Hot Soldier Spy Page 12

  The cart stopped in front of the service elevator, waiting for a ride to the basement and safety. A male voice from off to the left asked the maid to stop. Dammit! She mumbled in Spanish that she spoke no English. The guy tried again, in louder English. Not a Spanish speaker, apparently.

  Stay cool, Maria. Keep your head. He willed the girl to hear his thoughts. The elevator dinged. The guy raised his voice even more, and the maid, bless her heart, burst out in a spate of rapid, upset Spanish.

  Dutch registered vaguely that her outburst had to do with this guy slowing her down and how much work she had to do and that he was going to get her fired. But what really held his attention was that she pushed the cart on to the elevator as she railed.

  The elevator door closed, shutting out the sound of the maid, still protesting the man’s interference vociferously. Whew, that had been a close call. What a gutsy girl. As slick a move as he’d ever seen.

  He held his position in the cart when the elevator doors opened again. In a few seconds, someone came to investigate, and a hushed female voice asked, “Are you there, señor?”

  “Yeah,” he murmured back.

  “Where is Maria?”

  “A man is questioning her upstairs. But she managed to get the cart on the elevator before they could stop her. Does she need help?” Dutch asked urgently.

  “I’ll go up and check on her.”

  “Thanks.” The last thing he needed was that girl on his conscience.

  Thankfully, the cart lurched into motion again. His hamstrings were starting to cramp up, and it was getting damned stuffy. The doors opened abruptly and he squinted at the flood of bright light.

  “Quickly, señor,” said a male voice. “Into this crate.”

  Dutch rolled out of the cleaning cart and eyed the wooden box before him. It was substantially larger than his previous hiding spot, at any rate. His limbs only half cooperating, he snatched his computer and climbed into the box. A lid clamped down, and darkness wrapped around him. The crate tilted onto a dolly and someone grunted as they pushed him into motion. A minute later a male voice counted to three and he was heaved up into the air. He braced himself as best he could, but rolled wildly in the box as it tumbled to a soft landing.

  And then an overpowering stench hit him. Rotting trash. Ye gods. He was definitely in a dumpster.

  A man’s voice nearby. “The garbage truck will be here in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight until then.”

  He might die of asphyxiation before then. And Julia. How was she standing the hideous smell? He waited several seconds and heard nothing at all.

  “Julia?” he whispered.

  Nothing. He tried again. Panic surged in his chest. What had they done with her? So far, the hotel staff had done exactly as they’d said they would. Should he trust them?

  Should he blow this escape and break out to go look for her? Eduardo’s goon would still be patrolling the parking lot. He would have to take that guy out, which would probably draw the attention of his buddies. And then the bastards would know Julia was still nearby. At least she’d better still be nearby. If she had cut and run on him…

  He didn’t know if he would be more terrified or disappointed. He’d been relieved beyond belief when she’d agreed not to bolt on him yesterday. Made his job a hell of a lot easier. Right. That was why he’d nearly puked in relief when she had agreed to stick with him. It had nothing to do with the feelings that were tearing him apart, no sirree. He was a fucked up mess.

  He stayed put for ten minutes and then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to go find her. It was a royal pain twisting around in the box until he could plant both feet on the top of his crate. But he managed to make like a pretzel and position himself. He drew a deep breath and prepared to kick out the lid when, suddenly, he heard two male voices approaching.

  He froze, straining with all his might to listen. His heart started beating normally again when they came close enough for him to hear them speaking in Spanish. He jostled as they carefully set something in the dumpster.

  “Dutch?” a husky female voice whispered.

  Julia. His relief was so intense he momentarily felt light-headed. “I’m here.”

  “Thank God.”

  On that, they could both agree. He was grateful that the men who’d helped them had spared her the long wait in the fetid pile of trash. A pick-up must be imminent.

  Sure enough, the men’s voices had barely faded when the loud rumble of a truck approached. “You ready to move, honey?” he murmured.

  He heard a sob in her voice. “I’m so scared. Thank God you’re here.”

  “Everything’s going according to plan. And I promised I wouldn’t leave you,” he chided gently.

  The dumpster lurched just then and her only answer was a soft cry of surprise.

  “Hang on,” he instructed. “Brace yourself as best you can.” He did the same as they slowly tipped over. His crate tumbled over twice and came to a rest. If possible, the stench was even worse in here. The truck drove away and proceeded for about five minutes. And then, thankfully, it stopped. A man’s voice called out low to them, instructing them to keep talking until he found them. Julia spoke a steady stream of thanks for this man’s assistance. Her voice retreated as she climbed out of the truck.

  “Your turn, señor,” the man said.

  In a matter of seconds, the lid cracked open and he climbed out onto a soggy, disgusting mound of filth. And then he was over the side, crushing Julia in a spontaneous hug of relief. If she smelled any worse than him, he couldn’t tell, but he didn’t care in the least. Her smile was the sweetest sight he’d seen in years.

  She wrapped her slender, strong arms around his waist and held him every bit as tightly as he was holding her.

  “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again,” she murmured fervently against his chest.

  “Me neither.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he’d said. Me neither? Sweet Mother of God, what had he gone and done?

  Chapter Nine

  The only thing in the world Julia wanted worse than a shower was for Dutch never to let go of her. But she felt him tense abruptly. Now what crisis threatened? She eased her grip on him reluctantly so he could do his job. But oddly, he didn’t pull away. Rather, he stared down at her for a long time. She could swear that was fear lurking behind his hooded gaze. What in the world did he have to fear from her?

  He sighed and looked away. Practical as always, he asked the truck driver for directions to a motel where they would be safe. Where they’d be anonymous. He also arranged with the guy for the driver’s brother to pick up his SUV after her pursuers left and deliver it to them.

  Dutch paid for the new motel room with cash. The clerk asked for no ID but did leer knowingly at them. Julia didn’t care as long as she could get this smell off her skin and out of her hair.

  Profound relief washed over her as they stepped into the tiny room and its narrow bed. Lord, it felt good to be off the street and safe from prying eyes. For the moment. But this, too, wouldn’t last. She tried not to think ahead, to stay firmly focused on the present. After all, it might be all she had.

  A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

  Dutch was there immediately, his arms wrapping reassuringly around her. “It’s okay to let go now. You’re safe.”

  “For how long?” she mumbled against his chest.

  His arms tightened around her. “I said I would keep you safe until Eduardo’s put away, and I will.”

  He made it sound so simple. But there was a big bad world out there, full of her father’s men. And then there was Dutch. He was merely biding his time, waiting for his turn to kill her. For all she knew, he would kill Carina, too, if he got the chance to even the score for his brother.

  “I wish it all was that easy,” she sighed.

  “Aw, baby. It is. Just trust me. I’ll take care of the rest.” His cheek came to rest against the top of her head and his heart beat strong a
nd steady beneath her ear.

  Then his hand slid under her hair to massage the back of her neck, and—for now—it all suddenly was that easy. The tension melted from her body, taking every last ounce of her resistance with it. He’d laid his neck on the line for her yet again today. How many times was he going to have to save her before she accepted the fact that Jim Dutcher was the real deal? He would keep his word and not hurt her. At least not until this was all over. Here he was, patiently taking care of her, steadfastly upholding his end of their bargain. Again. Maybe she’d spent so long living in the shadow of a monster that she couldn’t see a good man when he was standing right in front of her.

  And with that thought came comfort. Security. Her feelings for him, tightly held in check until this moment, unfolded as naturally as breathing. A warm, peaceful sense of inevitability came over her that loving him was meant to be. She blinked. Loving him? She was not—

  Her thoughts completely derailed as his mouth found hers. She didn’t stand a chance against the warm union of their mouths. She exhaled on a sigh and lost herself in the kiss. He surrounded her in his heat and strength, overwhelming her without suffocating her. It reminded her of being caught up in warm ocean surf, carried away from the safety of shore but cradled in its soothing embrace. Except this time she was lost already. There was no need to fight her way back to land. She allowed the current of his hands and mouth to sweep her away.

  He lifted her off the ground and spun her around slowly as he kissed her half senseless. Her head spun twice as fast and she wrapped her arms around the immovable column of his neck. She sought the heat of his mouth, tasting the warm musk of his smooth lips, and then she sought even more. Her tongue slid inside his mouth, and he opened for her, giving himself up with a groan. She slanted her head, gorging herself on the hardness of his body and the wet, devouring heat of his mouth.

  And then she was bent backward over his arm, his mouth tearing away from hers to travel down her throat and toward the cleft of her aching breasts. She pulled his golden head closer, desperate for the fire. His free hand came up to cup her throbbing flesh, and she groaned with the exquisite torture to sensitized nerves.

  With a quick flex of his biceps, he righted her, backing her up against the wall as his kisses turned voracious. She wrapped her right leg around his hips, and he rocked against her core. Wet heat flooded her and her left leg practically collapsed from the drowning pleasure of it. Her nipples felt tight and swollen, and his clever fingers plucked at them until she threw her head back, banging it against the wall. Dutch winced and she laughed, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down for more. Straining upward, she met him halfway, consumed by a blaze that all but incinerated her soul.

  The room spun around her, and she had no idea if Dutch had lifted her again or not. Everything fell away but her driving need to reach inside his very soul, to feast upon every cell of his being, to have this man. And then her clothes started to fall off, drifting away like smoke. She tore at his shirt, surprised that his buttons survived the attack as she ripped at the fabric in her haste to get to naked male skin. And then her palms encountered the raw silk of his flesh, sliding over slabs of rock-hard muscle. Pure animal need to feel him thrusting deep inside her drove her onward, clumsily peeling away the rest of his clothes.

  A hum started somewhere behind him, and cool air from overhead struck her skin, not even putting a dent in the inferno consuming her. And then his arms were under her legs, scooping her up. He strode swiftly into the bathroom and deposited her on her feet in the shower. A quick flick of his wrists turning on the water, and then he was kissing her again, his hands and mouth roaming all over her body as he claimed every inch of her for his own.

  His onslaught might be gentle but it was merciless, leaving no quarter, nowhere to hide. She opened herself to him as water sluiced across her skin. Hot or cold, she couldn’t tell and didn’t care. Steam rose around them and then he was washing her, his hands soapy and slippery on her body, driving her out of her mind with the exquisite sensation of it.

  His hand slid down her front, down the smooth slope of her belly and into the silky softness between her legs. He nudged her legs apart as his fingers slid lower, invading her most private flesh. How her knees managed not to buckle at the slick slide of flesh on flesh, she had no idea. And then his big, blunt finger was inside, testing her response. Her knees did collapse then. But his arm was there to catch her, pulling her against him, holding her close as the slow torture stretched into forever.

  She threw her head back on a sharp cry of pleasure. He turned them both around, and hot water pulsed against her back as pleasure pounded her mercilessly from within. His fingers stroked and teased her until the walls disappeared and the skies opened above them. Rolling pleasure roared toward her like a towering, black wall of water, a tidal wave that crashed through her until every nerve in her body screamed with pleasure.

  Delirious in her abandon, she keened her release. Water sliced across her face like wild rain, drenching her in the slashing glory of the present.

  Practically drunk with pleasure, it took her a moment to realize that it was, in fact, the shower spraying across her heated cheeks. And that she was standing on her own two feet, under her own power. Dutch’s arms had fallen away from her. In fact, he’d taken a step back from her to the far end of the tub.

  And then she looked into his eyes. They were pools of darkest, midnight black, staring at her as if looking into the past. No blank-stared blackout was this. Horror flickered in his eyes as they looked at and through her.

  “Dutch, come back,” she begged, afraid. She reached for him, but he shrank away. Her hands fell to her sides. The water grew chilly against her skin. She tried again. “Dutch, the water’s getting cold. It’s time to get out of the shower.”

  * * *

  Swirling images of Julia’s face raced through Dutch’s head. A younger Julia with wavier hair. The same little-girl-grown-up beauty. Frightened eyes. A black night, with rain making little rivers across her upturned face--

  An overpowering urge ripped through him, to hurt her. To wrap his hands around her throat and choke her. To kill her.

  He staggered back, his hands shaking violently. The need rode him so hard, he could barely breathe. Get a grip! This was Julia. Sweet, innocent Julia who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  But something buried deep within him slavered, lusting for her blood. The jungle called, and the beast surged forward, tearing at its restraints. His head felt as if it was going to explode. He pressed his palms against his temples, trying physically to hold his skull together, stop it from bursting into a thousand pieces. He groaned in agony.

  Her voice floated toward him from a long ways away. Saying his name. Coming closer.

  “Get away from me,” he snarled. Please God, just make the ice picks in his eyeballs stop.

  Strong, slender arms wrapped around him. Urged him out of the shower. He stumbled. Fell. Cold floor, but no pain. Then something rubbed all over his body. Warmer. The arms again, helping him to his feet, guiding him into a dark, cool place. Cushioning softness as he lay down, and blankets piled on top of him. Muffling the monster. Containing the claws of the beast.

  He began to shiver. God, he was cold all the way to his bones. His teeth were even chattering. Eventually, sensation began to return to his skin. Awareness of a room around him. A flea-trap motel. Someone sitting beside him. Stroking his face gently. Taming the beast.

  He squinted up at the shadowed figure. For a moment the flashback wavered into view like a mirage, but then it retreated. And only Julia remained.

  “Hi, stranger,” she murmured down at him.

  “Hey,” he mumbled back. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d just made a colossal fool of himself.

  “Feeling better?” she asked simply.

  “Feeling human.” And he would bet she had no idea how monumental an achievement that was, either. He frowned up at her. “Are you okay?” He had a vague memory of te
rror blossoming on her face, of her fleeing from the beast.

  “Me? I’m fine,” she answered lightly. But something else vibrated in her voice.

  He freed a hand from the blankets to run it through his short hair. “God, I’m sorry. I scared you, didn’t I? Look, if you want to leave me, I’ll call in someone else from the Blackjacks. I have a buddy on the team who would help you, no questions asked in return for your father’s arrest.”

  She looked long and hard at him, unfathomable thoughts flitting through her dark gaze. Finally she whispered, “I don’t want anybody else. Just you.”

  He met her gaze candidly. And something passed between them. An understanding. An agreement of sorts. Recognition that there was something powerful between them, and if they both lived long enough they might explore it someday.

  “Some pair we make,” he remarked ruefully.

  “You’ve got that right.” She grinned briefly. “Hungry?” she asked.

  In his line of work, a guy never turned down a meal. Some ops got so hot or so covert that he might go for days at a time without eating. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Pizza? There’s a delivery joint across the street.” She smiled and that damned mirage swam forward again. Something about seeing that water running over Julia’s face had triggered the memory. But the harder he reached beyond that one image, the more he felt it slipping away.

  Enough was enough. He threw back the mound of covers and swung his feet to the floor. And realized he was naked. He swore under his breath. He glanced up to see if he’d shocked Julia, but she was smiling at him, and…sonofagun…that was unabashed appreciation he saw in her eyes.

  He yanked on his shorts, which reeked to high heaven, but they were all he had until his SUV got delivered. He felt more in control now. Somehow, he had managed to fight off the beast one more time. Barely.