Texan Undercover (Romantic Suspense) (20 page)

"Okay. What is it you want?" Dillon eyed the
gun and Winslowe's slack grip on it. Maybe the man wasn't
accustomed to guns. That could work in Dillon's favor. Or not.

"I want to make you sorry. Make you suffer,
that's what I want," Frank said. "You've ruined everything. I had a
good setup going at e*Claire's--working on my dissertation was an
excellent cover. I actually made progress on it as I planted
viruses and caused mayhem in those God-forsaken tech companies. And
no one suspected me until
you
came along. You've destroyed
all that I've worked so hard to accomplish."

"You've been breaking the law, Winslowe."

"I'm trying to save the world, you idiot." He
pointed the gun straight at Dillon's heart.

Claire gasped and Natalie shrieked.

Dillon risked a glance in Claire's direction.
God, how he loved her. Nothing else mattered. Only Claire. He
wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, but first he had
to get them out of this mess.

He turned to Winslowe again. "How are you
going to save the world? By killing me? You don't want to do this,
man. Think. Use that genius brain of yours. Don't do this."

"Perhaps you have a point. Killing you won't
solve anything. But the game is over. I've failed to accomplish my
objective. Failed in my crusade against rampant technology. I'll
never finish my dissertation now. I have nothing left to live for.
Nothing." He pointed the gun to his temple.

"Frank, don't!" Natalie jumped up and ran to
him, grabbing his arm. He shook her off, the gun waving wildly in
his hand. The disruption was all Dillon had been waiting for. He
dove toward Winslowe, pushing Natalie out of the way. He knocked
the gun out of his hand and crashed with him to the floor. They
wrestled and rolled, toppling a floor lamp and knocking against the
coffee table. Dillon felt his own gun dislodge from behind his
back, where he'd stuck it in his waistband.

Frank managed to get to his feet. Dillon
plowed into him, but Frank maneuvered him into a stranglehold.
Damn, how had he managed that? Using his elbow, Dillon jabbed Frank
in the stomach and twisted away. He punched him in the jaw and
Frank went down again. Too late, Dillon saw the gun on the floor
within Frank's reach.

The professor made a grab for it, but Claire
shot up off the couch and kicked it across the room. Frank
encircled her ankle with his fingers, but Dillon stomped on his
wrist until he released her.

"Move and stay back!" Dillon shouted at her.
He hoped Claire listened because Winslowe tripped him and Dillon
crashed to the floor before he could make sure.

Frank scrambled to his feet. He crouched low,
signaling with his hands a come-and-get-me motion. "Come on, Mr.
Private Investigator. What are you going to do now?" Behind his
bent and crooked glasses, his eyes glowed feverishly.

Dillon slowly rose. The man had gone berserk
and that was lending him unusual strength and confidence. "I'm just
warming up, Winslowe. This isn't over by a long shot."

With a forward lunge, Dillon butted Frank
with his head. Frank kneed Dillon in the chest, then took him down
again and straddled him.

Damn, the nutty professor was turning out to
be one hell of a fighter. He was pummeling the living crap out of
Dillon. Winslowe must outweigh him by forty pounds, at least. This
was getting downright embarrassing. And where the hell was
Brozek?

Reaching upward, he buried his fingers in
Frank's face, knocking his glasses off. Frank tried to shake him
loose as he wrapped his hands around Dillon's neck.

Dillon increased the pressure and so did
Frank. Heart pounding in his throat and lungs straining with the
effort to breathe, Dillon heard Claire make distressful noises in
the background. She stood behind Frank and he wanted to warn her to
stay out of the way, but couldn't force the words out.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of glass
shattering and Natalie screaming. Shards of glass cascaded down
around him, and for a couple of seconds he couldn't register what
had happened until Frank collapsed and slid sideways onto the
floor.

Struggling to his feet, Dillon climbed over
the fallen man and pulled Claire into his arms. "I told you to stay
out of the way. You don't listen very well."

"No, I don't, do I?" She looked up into his
face and smiled.

The shifting sensation in his chest nearly
blindsided him. Dillon hugged her tight. He never wanted to let
Claire out of his sight again. Never wanted to be that scared and
unsure about anything ever again. "You could have been hurt, damn
it." "You were the one getting hurt." She wiped blood away from a
cut on his cheek.

He winced. "
Ouch.
"

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?"
Claire wrapped her arms around his waist and tenderly administered
first aid, spreading kisses over one cheek, then the other, then
the corners of his mouth.

When Dillon couldn't stand it any longer, he
captured her lips in a searing kiss. God, she felt good. And tasted
even better. His body reacted immediately and with embarrassing
force. A sudden and urgent need to possess Claire, body and soul,
assailed him.

Bed. He had to get them in bed as soon as
possible. He wanted to reassure himself she was unharmed. Needed to
see her naked. Needed to be inside her.
Just plain needed
her.

Claire pulled away and looked up into his
eyes. "I was so frightened."

"You weren't the only one, babe. When
Winslowe answered your phone, I nearly lost it." The thought of
Claire in danger, that she might die and he'd never get the chance
to tell her he loved her or make love to her again had made him
crazy with fear. To never see her smile or raise that haughty
little chin again was unthinkable.

"Frank fooled us all," Claire said. "I still
can't believe he's the hacker. And where did he learn to fight like
that?"

"I don't know. He had me going there for a
minute. Nice move with the vase, by the way." Dillon pressed his
lips to her forehead, inhaling the soft, subtle scent of her.
"Thanks for saving my butt."

"No problem. It's a butt worth saving."
Claire pulled him closer for another kiss.

The front door crashed open and Brozek rushed
in, gun drawn.

"Hey Polack! What took you so damn long?"
Dillon asked, keeping Claire snug by his side. "Where the hell have
you been?"

Brozek shoved his gun back in the holster and
strode into the room, surveying the damage. "I lost contact right
after you went in. Decided to give you a little time. Sorry about
that."

"Now that you're here, you can wrap things
up. I'm taking Claire home."

Brozek quirked a brow. "Sure thing, buddy.
I'll take care of everything." He looked at Frank. "Looks like I
missed a hell of a fight."

"It was one for the books," Dillon said.

Claire pushed out of his arms and frowned. "I
can't go home now. What about Natalie?" She walked over to where
her friend stood looking down at Frank lying on the floor. "Nat?
Are you okay?"

Natalie nodded. "I couldn't let him shoot
himself. I cared for him. Or thought I did. How could I have been
so mistaken in him? That isn't like me, is it?"

"Everyone makes mistakes," Claire said. "None
of us suspected him. Try to shake it off, Nat. Remember your motto?
So many men; so little time.
"

Natalie straightened her shoulders. "Right.
And it's time to move on. After all, there are more fish in the
ocean."

Claire hugged her. "That's the Natalie I know
and love."

Natalie hugged her back, then shook a finger
at her. "I have a bone to pick with you. What's all this about Mr.
Macho being a private eye? Why didn't you tell me what was going
on?"

Dillon came to stand by Claire and put his
arm around her. "She was sworn to secrecy and couldn't tell anyone.
We were undercover. The less people who knew, the more likely we
were to succeed."

Natalie narrowed her eyes at Brozek. "So he's
a private eye, too? I thought he was casing the joint."

Brozek squatted beside Frank, but looked up
and grinned. "I
was
casing the joint, only in a good way."
He winked, then turned back to feel for a pulse on Frank's
neck.

Natalie frowned. "Do you think he's in a
coma? Shouldn't we take him to the hospital or something?"

"I'm on it." Brozek rose to his feet and
slipped his cell phone from his belt. "I'm calling the cops.
They'll take it from here."

"Excellent." Dillon kissed Claire's hair.
"Let's get going. I'm driving you home." He crossed the room,
snagged her purse from the coffee table and began stuffing things
inside. He couldn't wait to get her alone so he could reassure
himself that she was indeed safe and unharmed.

"I can't leave Natalie," Claire said.

"Brozek will be here. He'll keep her company.
Won't you, buddy?"

"Sure thing," Brozek said, smiling at
Natalie.

Natalie hugged Claire. "Go on. I'll be fine.
Looks like I've already found another fish."

****

In the car, Claire's adrenaline rush faded
fast, leaving her spent and numb. She stared unseeingly out the
passenger window as Dillon sped along the freeway to her condo. She
must be in shock, because nothing registered; everything passed in
a blur.

The extraordinary events of the past few
hours played over and over in her mind. She could still see Frank
pointing the gun at Dillon. Fear glued her throat tight and she
clenched her hands into fists to keep them from trembling. She'd
died a thousand deaths witnessing his fight with Frank. A quick
glance at Dillon, his strong profile illuminated from the soft glow
of lights on the dashboard, and Claire knew she was hopelessly in
love with him. Maybe that's why she felt numb. The case was over.
Dillon would be leaving soon.

"We're home," Dillon said as he pulled into
her garage.

Home. If only . . .

He helped her from the car and into her
condo. He eased her coat from her shoulders and tossed it over the
back of the sofa. Then he took her in his arms and held her against
his chest. The steady beat of his heart thumped beneath her
ear.

He was alive and so was she. They'd survived
the ordeal. And somehow, she'd survive after Dillon was gone. She
wouldn't think about it. For now, they were together. She would
live for the moment.

Claire felt Dillon's lips on her hair. She
breathed in his musky scent. The icy numbness melted away, leaving
a molten hunger rampaging through her veins. "Make love to me,
Dillon."
Make me forget. Make me feel alive.

He didn't say anything. Only brushed her
cheek with his finger, gently tracing the line of her jaw, tilting
her chin up until she met his gaze.

Claire's heart lurched and her knees sagged
when he lowered his mouth, swiping her lips with his tongue before
plunging in. Dillon kept a tight hold on her, cupping and squeezing
her bottom with his hand, pulling her close to nestle snugly
against his hardness.

The kiss was tender, almost reverent--as if
he were savoring the taste of her. She felt his body shake with the
fine tremors of desire. Something was different, but she couldn't
get a handle on it. Couldn't think. Only feel.

Intense yearning pooled in her stomach and
lower; her nipples grew taut, straining against her sweater. Claire
wanted to jerk the woolen fabric away. She wanted no barriers
between Dillon and herself. She wanted to feel naked skin rub naked
skin.

"Take me to bed." She kissed the faint dimple
in his strong chin. "Please."

"Yes, ma'am." Dillon scooped her into his
arms, his lips never leaving hers as he carried her down the
hall.

When they reached the bedroom, he let her
slide down the length of his body. He backed her against the door,
lifted the hem of her sweater and swept it up over her head and
flung it aside. With deft fingers, Dillon unhooked the front clasp
of her bra and tossed it aside, too.

Tenderness gave way to urgent, needy passion.
He covered her mouth and plundered with his tongue, kneading her
breasts, touching her aching nipples, all the while grinding his
arousal into her belly.

Claire felt her body instantly respond--her
panties dampened in readiness to receive him. She clutched Dillon's
arms, his muscled biceps steel beneath her fingers.

"Bed, Dillon. Let's get in bed."

"In a minute, babe." He knelt before her and
stripped her skirt down around her ankles. Kissed her through her
panties before removing them. Ran his hands over her thighs,
caressed the sensitive skin behind her knees. He inched his way
back up, mouthing her intimate flesh, sliding two fingers
inside.

Claire arched her back and spread her legs,
lunging forward, seeking more. Dillon didn't disappoint her. He
began the magic rhythm--thrusting deeply, withdrawing slowly.
Thrusting, withdrawing. He kissed her breasts, teased the nipples.
Suckled one, then the other. Whispered encouragement as she
moaned.

Digging her fingers in his hair, Claire held
him close. Her body throbbed and vibrated. She moved with him,
matching the rhythm. When he rubbed her with his thumb in
counter-time, Claire exploded. Floating on clouds of pleasure,
riding the aftershocks of orgasm, she cried out Dillon's name.

She needed him inside her! Now!

In tune with her needs, Dillon lifted her
limp body and crossed the room in two long strides. He pulled the
covers back from the bed and laid Claire on the clean white sheets.
She watched as he quickly shucked his clothes and put on
protection. Her heart swelled with love.

"Hurry," she said, lifting her arms in
invitation.

The bed shifted under Dillon's weight. He
pulled her beneath him and entered. She closed her eyes on a
sigh.