The Edge of Courage (Red Team) (25 page)

Fee glared at Kelan. “That gun hasn’t been fired in a hundred years. I doubt it still works. And I didn’t realize what trouble Alan was in—I thought you were common burglars that I could bluff into getting out of the apartment. What about my phone?”

“Max has it. He’ll give it to you after breakfast.” He moved away, but Fee stopped him.

“Kelan?” He looked at her over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

He gave her a lopsided grin of brilliant, white teeth. His eyes crinkled, easing his stoic mask. He nodded. “I’m glad you’re here instead of with Buchanan.”

The other guys started to congregate as she and Mandy set food out. One of them introduced himself to her. He was even taller than Kelan. He had reddish-brown-blond hair, almost the color of a malt whiskey. It was longer on top and lay in waves of rich color. His eyes were the azure blue of a Caribbean shoreline. He had dimples when he smiled, which he did as he held out his hand to her.

“I’m Valentino Parker. Mandy says you’ll be staying with us awhile.”

She took his hand and felt it swallow hers. “Valentino? Seriously?”

“I know, right? I begged my mom to rename me Sue or Jodeen. Hell, I could even have pulled off a Rachel. But no, she had to be a romantic.”

“Well, you certainly fit your name.”

His smiled widened. It was electrifying. She realized she was still holding his hand. Their palms were becoming warm—all of her was warming up.

“Don’t talk to him,” Kelan said, interrupting her embarrassing stare.

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away. “Why?”

“Because he’s bad news. He has about twelve concurrent relationships in flight at the moment, some of them even monogamous. You don’t want to be the thirteenth. And you won’t like his definition of monogamy.”

Fee looked over her shoulder at Valentino. He didn’t seem inclined to refute what Kelan said.

“He’s jealous,” Val explained with a shrug. “He can’t grasp that his frown is not his friend when it comes to women.”

“She’s not a woman. She’s a girl. Don’t talk to her.”

“Leave poor Fee alone, you two. She has enough stress in her life as it is.” Mandy interrupted them. “Kelan, why don’t you introduce the guys before we all sit down?”

A muscle bunched in his jaw. He looked like he was going to refuse, but took one glance at Owen and relented. He called out their names in quick succession. Val pulled out Fee’s chair for her, grinning at Kelan as he stood behind it.

The guys filled the dining room with noisy chatter while they loaded their plates. No one spoke about their plans for the day other than innocuous things like exercise rotations, which they planned to do in groups of two or three at various times during the day.

“Fiona, we’ll make the call to Buchanan after breakfast. We’ll do it downstairs. I want to record it,” Owen told her.

Fee pushed the fruit around on her plate, too nervous to eat after hearing that news. She was dreading that call. She didn’t know what Alan had gotten himself into, but it couldn’t be good if a team like this had come in to investigate him.

She looked up and noticed that Kelan was watching her poke at her food. She stabbed a strawberry and shoved it in her mouth, then followed it with a piece of biscuit. He continued to glare at her until her plate was empty.

After breakfast, the men ushered her to the stairs, half in front of her, half behind her. She felt like an enemy of the state being escorted to an interrogation. When she descended the last step, she moved into a different world. Two sofas had been pushed into the middle of the room and now sat back to back to make space for tables that, loaded with computers and equipment, surrounded most of the outer perimeter.

This was no simple investigative team. They had a war room here in Mandy’s basement. It was looking more and more as if these guys were a pseudo-military operation.

The man the others called Max hooked her phone up to the one of the computers, then gave it back to her and told her to dial Alan. “Keep it casual. You’re here to work for Mandy—simple change of plans, that’s all,” he coached her.

Fee looked around the room, nervous at having an audience. Her gaze stopped at Kelan, who stood the furthest away in the stance of a warrior, with legs braced and arms folded across his chest as he had done last night when Mandy’s brother and the one named Owen had questioned her. He met and held her gaze. For some reason, she took courage from his strength.

She dialed Alan.

“Fee? Where are you?” he answered the phone.

“Hi, Alan. I’m at Mandy’s.”

“What the hell are you doing there?” he asked.

She looked at Max. He was broadcasting their call to the room. He nodded at her and mouthed the word “Focus.” She pressed a finger to her other ear so that the echo wouldn’t distract her.

“I ran into her yesterday. She’s desperate for help up here. I hate to disappoint you, but I’ve decided to work for her this summer instead of at the shop. If you like, I can arrange for a temp to come in.”

“What I’d like is for you to get the hell out of there.”

“Why?”

There was a brief pause before he answered. “I want you to come home, goddamn it. Why do I have to explain myself?”

“I don’t understand. That’s all.”

“You know what? I made a promise to your mom and I’ve kept that promise.”

“You did, and I’m grateful for that.”

“Now you come home. Before it’s too late.”

“Why would it be too late, Alan? What’s happening?”

He sighed. “Just do what you’re told, or I wash my hands of you.”

“I’m going to stay here for a little while.”

“Then we’re through. We’re done. We are not family. You’re on your own.” Alan hung up.

Fee’s hand was shaking as she set the phone back on the table. She held no great fondness for Alan, but he’d kept his word to put her through college—a promise he’d honored even after her mother’s death. He was her very last connection to her mom. The room was deathly silent. She looked up at the men who watched her so solemnly. She would not cry, she told herself. Not in front of them, not in front of anyone.

Her glance moved to Kelan. He uncrossed his arms. More than anything, she wished she could go to him, have him hold her, hear him tell her everything would be okay.

But it wouldn’t. Not ever again. Alan was right. She was on her own. She walked across the room, her head up, her gaze on the stairs. She needed air, and lots of it.

Kelan broke the silence once the sound of Fee’s footsteps faded upstairs. “He’s up to something. Want me to go keep an eye on him?”

“Yes,” Owen said. “And, Max, I want to know about any out-going phone calls, emails, Tweets, or any other communication the bastard makes. Angel, there’s a connection between our plumber and Mr. Akbar. Find it. Get me some dirt on what they’re up to.”

* * *

A few hours after supper, the guys were fighting over a Nerf football and driving Max crazy. They’d been trolling their Internet sources, examining data, playing with different scenarios for the last fifteen hours.

When the football hit Max in the back of the head for the third time, he spun his chair around and winged it at Val. “Get out of here. All of you. Leave me in peace. You’re like a herd of buffalo down here.”

Val grinned at him. “Okay. You sure you don’t need us?”

“I need you to get outta my hair,” Max growled.

“I’ll keep him company,” Owen told the group. “If we discover anything interesting, I’ll phone you.”

The guys took the steps two at a time. “I’ll be D.D.,” Blade offered when they reached the living room. “Rocco, you comin’?” he asked.

“Not me.” Rocco grinned at Kit, who still hadn’t warmed to the fact that he and Mandy had a relationship. “I’ve got other plans for the evening.”

Kit glared at him but accepted Blade’s invite. “I’m in.”

“Where are you going?” Fee asked.

“Out,” Kelan said.

“Hey, can she go?” Val asked the group.

“Don’t think she’s legal,” Angel wondered aloud. “Unless they lowered the drinking age to, like, twelve?”

Fee made a face. “I’m twenty.” She was blushing.

Val watched the color rise on her skin. “Damn, she’s cute in pink. You sure she can’t come? Take a minute to make a fake I.D.”

Kelan stepped in front of her. “She’s not going. Guys night out,” he said to Val. When the last of the team had filed out the door, he faced Fee and bent close to her ear. “He’s right,” he whispered. “You are pretty in pink.”

Rocco led Mandy through the dining room and into the living. “We’re calling it a night, Fee. Max and Owen are downstairs if you need anything. Don’t leave the house. It isn’t safe yet.”

Fee glared at him. “I’m going to bed to read.” She started down the hall, mumbling as she went, “I’ve gone from a terrorist step-father to nine surrogate fathers.”

“Brothers,” Rocco corrected. “We’re not old enough to be your fathers.”

Mandy laughed. “We’ll be just down the hall, too, if you need something.”

“Right. But don’t need anything for a while, ‘kay?”

“Rocco! You embarrassed Fee,” Mandy scolded as he closed the bedroom door behind them.

“I’m not talking about Fee. I’m not thinking about anyone or anything that doesn’t involve you in my arms, right here, right now.” He took her hand and led her to the bathroom. Her favorite candles glowed by the sink and in the far corners of the tub, washing the room in a muted, flickering light.

Mandy looked at Rocco, her eyes tearing up. “When did you do this?”

He started to help her out of her clothes, unfastening her jeans so that she could step out of them. She was already barefoot. “While you were getting the dogs settled for the night.” He pulled her tank top over her head. She stood before him in only her bra and panties. Desire filled him with heat. He forced himself to keep his hunger under control as he popped her bra open. While she stepped out of her panties, he flipped on the water in the stall, letting it warm up. He shucked his clothes, then drew her into the shower stall.

The water was on the hot side of warm. He held her hand and pulled her into the shower. She dropped her head back and let the water stream through her hair. Blocking it from her face with her hands, she arched her back in a slow, delicious stretch that brought his gaze to all the sleek curves of her body. He stepped into the water in front of her. She looked at him through the sheeting water.

He took her hands and lowered them to her sides, twining his fingers with hers. She was so beautiful. He smiled at her, committing every second to memory. He leaned forward, looking at her through the water, letting it splash from her face to his as he kissed her. Her mouth opened to his. Water rushed in, and then his tongue. Softly stroking. He kissed her nose, between her brows.

He poured shampoo into his palm. She covered his palm with hers, rubbing it back and forth until he cupped lather. She took some and rubbed it into his hair. He did the same, drawing her long, copper mane up into the lather. It felt like he was creating her even as she made him, from suds and dreams. But she was real. Flesh and blood. And he was so goddamned blessed he could barely breathe.

They rinsed the shampoo from their hair, then he took up a bar of soap and started to wash her. She stopped him. She handed him a pink scrubby and poured a body wash on it. He lifted it to his nose. Jasmine. God, he would never in his life forget that scent. He rubbed her with the pink mesh ball, lathering every inch of her body.

He knelt to wash her feet. He leaned forward to kiss her belly, low, between her navel and her mound. He went lower still, pressing his face into her coppery curls. “Open for me, Em.” She rested a foot on his thigh. He licked her soft folds, rubbing his tongue over her clit. She gasped and grabbed his hair, holding him to her.

His fingers stroked where his tongue had just passed. When he slipped inside her, she cried out, frowning down at him with stormy, green eyes. He smiled up at her.

“Rocco, I’ll fall. I can’t do this.”

“Lean against the wall. I’ve got you.” He kissed her thigh, sucking on her skin as he worked his way back up to her core. He ran a hand up her thigh, over her hip and belly, to cup a breast. Mandy gripped his hand with hers. His tongue circled the swollen nub at the top of her core, then slipped along her folds as he entered her with a finger, two fingers. And then her body was writhing against his face, her channel tightening around his fingers. Fire shot along his cock as he imagined being joined with her for her orgasm.

When she grew still, he kissed her hip, her belly. He dipped his tongue into her navel, then licked along her ribs as he rose to her breasts. He kissed her collarbone, ran his tongue over the center of her throat, captured her chin between his teeth, and grinned at her.

Mandy laughed. He looked pleased with himself. His black eyes, so often sad or tormented, looked happy. She switched places with him.

“Your turn.” She pressed his hands against the tile wall, flattening his arms. “Don’t move.” She drew her hands down the muscles roping his arms. The dark hair of his chest and underarms streamed with water down his torso and abdomen. His penis stood upright from its nest of black hair, like turgid iron. His muscular thighs were spaced apart, bracing him against the wall.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, his eyes becoming hooded and intense. Mandy smiled. She leaned forward and kissed his pec, then his shoulder, then his other pec. “That’s not what I meant.” He breathed heavily through flared nostrils, his gaze held hers, his hands sticking to the wall as if shackled.

She stepped up on her tippy toes and kissed his neck, his jaw, slowly, working her way up to his mouth. He groaned as she pressed her lips to his. Mandy tilted her head, fitting her mouth against his. Her tongue did not penetrate his lips. She licked the circumference of his mouth. He growled, a low, rumbling sound when she reversed her direction and started kissing a long line down to his navel.

Water rained on her back as she knelt before him. She looked up to see the way desire tightened the features of his face. Without touching him, she flicked her tongue against the head of his penis. He spread his legs wider. She licked the sensitive underside of him.