Cherry Adair - T-flac 09 (12 page)

His hips jerked as they came together. Hard. In shuddering, paroxysmal spasms of blinding pleasure.

She collapsed against his chest, her limp body hot as a furnace and damp with perspiration. “Oh. My.

God.”

“Yeah,” he managed, too spent to move, barely capable of breathing. “That.”

They dozed, still joined, their bodies glued together with sweat, his penis softening inside her.

More than spent lust had his heart beating like a sledgehammer. He’d never come like that before. So lost to his surroundings, so out of control. So totally unaware of the world around him. That kind of inattention could get a man killed. That kind of inattention made him sharply aware of just how dangerous this woman was to him.

The state of relaxation lasted all of ten minutes before Caleb felt himself grow hard again. Jesus. He wasn’t a kid anymore. Normally it took him longer than ten minutes to be ready to go again.

“Hmm?” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest as he started moving.

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“There’s a lot to be said for taking it slow.”

She sat up slowly. “I was having a lovely dream.”

“Let’s see if we can make that a reality.” Holding her hips, he set the rhythm, then let go and ran both hands over her breasts, enjoying the curves and valleys of her body as she moved.

“This-is-hard-work-you-know.”

And she was clearly enjoying every stroke of it as much as he was. “Uh-uh. Lean down a bit. More.

There. Hmm.” He closed his teeth gently around her nipple. Her back arched, which sent him in deeper.

He gave the hard tip a small bite. In retaliation she started to move faster and faster. Caleb had to settle his hands back on her hips to keep her on target before she achieved lift-off without him.

A tremor shivered over his skin, and his heart did calisthenics as her sheath tightened around him, milking him dry. Sweat oiled his skin and blurred his vision as she moved.

This time was no less intense than the last. While her body was still clenching around him, he brought her down to the mattress beside him, then stroked a hand along her thigh, pulling her knee over his.

She lifted her face. “Kiss me,” she demanded. Caleb complied, crushing her mouth beneath his. She made a soft, desperate sound low in her throat, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Despite hours of lovemaking, Heather still felt an electric thrill sparking across her nerves as he took possession of her mouth. Who needed air, she though fuzzily. She never wanted him to stop.

They broke apart, both panting, bodies damp, hearts racing. “Wow!” she managed, eyes closed.

Caleb groaned theatrically as he rolled onto his back. Heather laughed, not moving. “Water,” she begged.

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After the few minutes he needed to get his breath back, he got up to dispose of the condom, bringing back a glass of water and a warm damp cloth from the bathroom.

Climbing back into bed, he waited for her to drink, then took the glass and set it aside. “Lie back.” His voice was husky.

Complying, Heather smiled, brushing his hair off his forehead when he leaned over her. “And think of England?”

He stroked the warm cloth down her tummy, following its path with his mouth. “Let’s see if I can give you something more interesting to think about.”

What followed drove every scrap of rational thought from her mind.

“I’m a noodle,” she laughed breathlessly when he eventually lifted his head.

He tightened his arms around her. “Take a little snooze then.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head.

“Build up your strength.”

He fell asleep instantly. Heather’s lips twitched with amusement even as her gaze followed the contour of his face. No softening there. Not even in repose. A hard man. But tender with her. God. She wasn’t sorry. She’d needed this. The sexual release—releases—had been phenomenal. Fantastic. But more, she’d needed the intimate interaction. Needed someone to
see
her.
Want
her. Give a damn whether she was alive or dead. If only for a few hours.

Caleb Edge had made Hannah Smith…
real.

She looked at her pale hand splayed on his tanned, hair-roughened chest. That hand was becoming familiar to her now. The short, unpolished nails. The ringless fingers. All her jewelry had either been melted down or soon would be. Unadorned, her hands were a symbol of her new life. She liked them this way just fine. She loved them touching Caleb.

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But the fantasy was over now.

Moving carefully, she slid out of his hold, pausing as he made a disgruntled sound as her body left the shelter of his. She stayed dead still, watching his face for signs that he was about to wake up.

Fortunately, he slept on.

Watching him the entire time, she picked up her scattered clothes, pulling on jeans and sweatshirt over bare skin. Tucking her panties, bra, and socks into her purse.

She paused with her hand on the door handle. Tempted, oh so tempted to go back to the big rumpled bed and the big rumpled man in it. Not just her body ached to return to him, her heart ached with the separation.

Appreciate it and move on,she told herself firmly, opening the door quietly. She snuck out of his room carrying her shoes and purse like a thief in the night.

The moment the door snicked closed behind her, Caleb opened his eyes and sat up. He ran both hands through his hair in disgust. “Asshole.”

He’d used her, plain and simple. And while that wasn’t unheard-of in his line of work, he hated to exploit a woman who wasn’t directly involved—

What in God’s name was he thinking? Heather Shaw
was
directly involved. She was her father’s daughter. Thank God she was worldly enough, sophisticated enough to understand a one-night stand.

And while their love-making had been incendiary, that was all it was. A one-night stand to extract intel.

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She’d given him zilch. Zilch intel, that is. She’d given him her body in ways that made his mouth water even now, and had made his body respond as he’d never responded before. There was some level to their lovemaking that he’d never before imagined. Having experienced it with Heather Shaw scared the living shit out of him.

Not just because she was the daughter of the man he sought, but because that kind of emotional entanglement wasn’t for an Edge. Ever.

Sex was only sex.

Thank God, he thought wryly, getting out of bed to head to a cold shower. One more time and they’d have burned to ashes on the sheets. He absently rubbed a fist against the ache in his chest as he cranked on the shower, wondering at the strange unfamiliar feeling. Heavy and hollow. Heartsick?

Bullshit. Heart
burn.
By the time he walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later he knew that he could never see her again. They’d just have to find another way to track down her father.

Out of sight, out of mind, Caleb thought, strapping on his watch after he’d dressed. His phone rang seconds before he was about to teleport to Germany. And if he hadn’t delayed because he suddenly wasn’t sure if seeing Kris-Alice was the answer to what ailed him, he’d have missed Lark’s call.

“It was a nonstarter. She doesn’t know where he is, or she’s not telling. Either way, we do this without her,” he said by way of greeting.

“So much for your legendary persuasive techniques,” Lark told him, sounding annoyingly cheerful. “Not enough time? Not enough charm? What?”

Time enough to make love with Shaw’s daughter. Time enough to—Damn it to hell. “I can’t squeeze blood from a stone,” he told her, his voice tight. He pressed a fist to his chest.

She made a noncommittal sound. “You have before.”

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“Move on.”

She waited three beats before saying, “We found him.”

God damn it.“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“Just wanted to see how it went with Heather.”

“Her name”—Caleb’s jaw hurt—“is
Hannah.
”

“Is it now?”

She knew it was. Damn woman was just jerking his chain. His gut already felt like a freaking pretzel.

“Give me a break, Lark.”

“My, don’t you sound cranky.”

“Just tell me where the fuck he is,” Caleb snarled. “I’ll bring him in and get this over with.”

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MATERA, ITALY

FRIDAY, APRIL14

0200

Shaw had chosen brilliantly.

The sonuvabitch was holed up at a UNESCO heritage site in the
sassi
district of Matera in the southern region of Basilicata, Italy.

The area had been a slum up until a few years before. Shaw had covered his tracks well by choosing to hide out in a site that was in the process of renovation, over one of his normal jet-setting, well-documented vacation spots. Damn smart, Caleb admitted again as he peered through the night. Not that anyone would deny that Brian Shaw, international banker to some of the biggest tango groups in the world, had a highly functional brain.

Originally, the billion-dollar question was why, just over a year ago, he’d suddenly put a giant target on his forehead by going underground. Then T-FLAC had uncovered some interesting intel. Billions of American dollars’ worth of tangos’ funds were missing. Shaw had absconded with his clients’ money.

Bad idea. Bad,
bad
idea.

Now the question was: why? Why risk certain death by stealing from groups that lived and breathed murder? Considering Shaw’s clientele, it was a stupid move.
Damn
stupid. Especially for a guy as savvy as Shaw. Caleb narrowed his eyes, ignoring the itch in the center of his back in favor of focusing on his hidden prey.

Everyone was looking for Shaw and the money. The good guys. The bad guys. Even the ugly ones.

Why? Why had he thrown his carefully constructed, cushy life away? Criminal minds rarely acted on impulse, because when they did, they frequently made mistakes.

Like the one that had gotten T-FLAC here, first on the scene. But Caleb knew the various terrorist groups were highly motivated by both revenge and the need to get their cash back. Shaw had given them billions of excellent reasons to want to hunt him. And when they did, they’d keep the sonuvabitch alive
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just long enough to find out where their money was. Then they’d kill him. Slowly and painfully.

And while that was certainly no loss, and would certainly save the American taxpayers a chunk of change for his day in court, T-FLAC couldn’t allow that money to get back in the tangos’ hands. And soon the place would be crawling with bad guys. Everyone determined to catch the prize.

The good guys
had
to win.

The
sassi
was a fantastic version of a human anthill, an entire city of cave-houses dug out of soft tufa stone, rising out of an ancient river channel. The area was steeped in history, and the most outstanding, intact example of a troglodyte settlement in the Mediterranean region. Perfectly adapted to its terrain and ecosystem. The first inhabited zone dated from the Paleolithic period. The half-abandoned
sassi
was a popular stomping ground for filmmakers searching for a biblical landscape. Not that Caleb and his men gave a flying fuck about the area’s history, or the fact that Mel Gibson had made a movie here.

What that all boiled down to was that it was a brilliant hiding place for Shaw.

Come out, come out wherever you are. There was no moon, and the star-filled sky was covered with thick banks of slowly drifting clouds. An excellent night to nab themselves an embezzling terrorist banker.

Caleb, Rook, Farris, and Dekker maintained their invisibility, keeping conversation to a minimum as they stood five hundred feet from the house. So far there hadn’t been a sign of either Shaw or his men, but T-FLAC’s intel placed the enemy within those walls. A dog ran down the cobbled path in their direction. Stopped on a dime, sniffed the air, and with a yip bolted back the way he’d come.

Dekker snorted. “Smart mutt.”

Caleb allowed himself a small smile. It was common knowledge that animals could scent a wizard, invisible or not, and they usually stayed clear.

Three men and a woman passed within feet of the four wizards, talking in German about the dinner they’d just eaten at the nearby restaurant. Caleb could have reached out to touch them, yet they continued on their way, oblivious.

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He wondered if that made the animals smarter.

The city of Matera had been built on a rocky plateau, which had then been sliced in two by the
Gravina
ravine. Shaw’s house was in the middle of the steepest part of it. Surrounded by similar houses, fronting the original caves carved out of the cream-colored tufa stone.