Collision Course (17 page)

They
raised a few eyebrows when they arrived at the Half ’n Half together, even
though they arrived in their own vehicles and came in through separate
entrances. Claire McIntyre gave her daughter a questioning look and she managed
to avoid the third degree from her father in the kitchen. Still, Casey being
Casey, she ignored him, just as she ignored her mother, and went about the
business of waiting on customers.

Following
his usual habit, T.J. scanned the faces of everyone already seated in the
restaurant and then in the booths on the coffee house side. He expected at any
minute someone would manage to trace what he’d been doing and have someone
waiting for him. He’d been careful not to go any deeper into the files than the
programs he downloaded were capable of. At last, he booted up his laptop and
went to work.

When
Casey brought him his mug of coffee and a bagel, he managed to wink at her and
squeeze her free hand. She smiled, a tentative curve of her lips, then hurried
back to her work. But it was enough to encourage him.

He had
dug everything he could from the Funda and Cimarron files so he focused on the
one labeled Charles Ruger Corporation. By now he’d figured out a pattern of how
they moved goods and money so he worked at a more rapid pace.

When he
took a bathroom break, he glanced into the restaurant area and saw Casey
standing by the sheriff’s table, frowning. His stomach clenched but he had to
trust her to handle this. Trust she knew the man and what would satisfy his
inquisitive mind.

Late in
the morning, before the lunch rush, Casey’s mother approached his booth
carrying two mugs of coffee. T.J. tipped the lid of his laptop down and pushed
it to the side.

“It’s
okay,” she laughed. “I promise I won’t try to read your book before you make it
public.” She set the mugs on the table. “Hope you don’t mind,” she said with a
breezy attitude. “I’m not one of those mothers who hover over their adult
daughter. I thought, however, since you seem to have taken up residence here
and Casey is… spending some time with you, we should introduce ourselves.” She
reached across the table. “Claire McIntyre.”

He shook
her hand, feeling the grip of a strong, self-assured woman. It was obvious her
daughter took after her.

“T.J.
Buck. Glad to meet you. You’ve got a great place here.”

“Thank
you. We’re pretty pleased with it ourselves. Of course, it’s our regulars who
keep us going.” She gave him a frank stare. “I don’t plan to give you the third
degree, Mr. Buck—”

“T.J.,”
he corrected.

“Alright.
T.J. Casey’s an adult, but one with a lot of baggage. I wanted to let you know
we do keep an eye on her.”

He
couldn’t help smiling. For a moment, he had a flashback of being in high school
again, being grilled by his date’s father.

“I
assure you, I have no intention of doing anything to hurt Casey. She’s become
very important to me in a short time.”

The
expression on Claire McIntyre’s face would have made a lab specimen shrivel but
he met it head on. She studied him through narrowed eyes for a long minute
before she nodded.

“Good
enough, then. Enjoy your stay with us.”

She
walked away and T.J. let out his breath. Casey’s mother might be a petite,
slender brunette but she had a core of steel. If he made a wrong turn with her,
Charles Bennett might be the least of his worries. It made him feel good to
know Casey had parents like Claire backing her. Someone had hurt her very
badly, and her family didn’t intend to let it happen again.

The rest
of the morning, his research took every bit of his attention. He’d managed to
find a couple of more sophisticated decryption programs and began digging
deeper and deeper into the Charles Ruger file. If the information he read
turned out to be correct, the number of illegal arms shipped to volatile
countries was massive. And equally massive amounts of money went into a number
of banks, moving in various denominations until tracing the journey became more
complicated than trying to unwind a cat’s cradle.

The file
he was dissecting had him so focused, he started when he heard Casey’s voice.

“Time
for lunch.” She placed two club sandwiches on the table and sat down across
from him. “Even fugitives have to eat.” When he scowled, she said, “I know.
Lame joke. Sorry.”

He moved
the computer to the side and reached for one of her hands. “It’s okay. I guess
joking about it is better than stressing, which seems to be all I’ve been
doing.”

“With
good reason, though. How’s it coming?”

“I found
a couple more programs to help me get under additional layers of information.”
He took a swallow of his coffee then leaned across the table so he could
whisper. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’m finding. It scares me everything
happened under my nose and I was too stupid or dumb or naïve or whatever to
catch a whiff of it.”

“I’d say
honest is more like it.” She fiddled with a triangle of her sandwich. “How much
more do you think you need before contacting your friend?”

“Enough
that it can’t be shrugged off as funny bookkeeping.”

Casey
bit of a piece of her sandwich and chewed, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“I know you said not to involve anyone else, but I have a friend who’s better
than anyone at this stuff.”

“No.”
Barely able to keep himself from shouting the word, he closed his fingers over
her slim wrist. “I’m serious, Casey. No one. Not anyone. Please.”

“Okay,
okay.”

He
glanced around to see if anyone had caught the little byplay but everyone
seemed to be engrossed in his or her own online activities. He stroked his
thumb over the pulse point on her wrist, feeling the accelerated beat.

“Sorry.”
He linked his fingers with hers. “I’m so damn jumpy about everything.”

“And
with good reason.” A small grin danced around her lips. “Did you have a nice
conversation with my mother?”

“I think
I passed the test.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Do I get your dad next?”

He had
to swallow a grin when she blushed.

“I’m
sorry. I guess it’s hard on all of us, me living at home now. And they’ve
always been fiercely protective of me.”

“Good. I
like that.” He gave her hand a squeeze and released it. “Will you have dinner
with me again tonight?”

“And
breakfast?” she teased.

“Yes.
And a few hours in between.”

“Why
don’t you pick up a pizza or Chinese, and I’ll meet you at your room. I have to
work until after the dinner shift tonight.”

“Okay.
Call me on my cell when you get ready to leave and I’ll run out and get it
then.” He tore off part of a page from his notebook, scribbled his cell number
on it and handed it to her.

“Okay.”
She slipped the paper into the pocket of her jeans. “Time for us both to get to
work again.”

By the
time he got to the motel, Trey’s eyes were burning and his shoulders stiff from
hunching over the keyboard. He’d been working on the files for the better part
of a week, the time made even more intense as he tried to scope out everyone
who came into the Half ’n Half. Or at least those he could see. Time had to be
running out for him Maybe if luck was with him, he’d have what he needed in one
or two more days.

Tossing
his things on the small table, he stripped, showered and shaved. He was dressed
in clean clothes and ready when Casey called to say she’d left her house.

*****

She’d
barely walked through the door to his room before they fell on each other like
starving natives, hungry for the touch and taste and smell of each other. All
day, she’d had to keep her game face on as she worked, calling herself an idiot
for lusting after a man she barely knew. At the speed of light, she’d gone from
building a wall around her emotions to shut out all men to opening her heart without
reservation to T.J. It seemed he was right. Danger, as he’d pointed out,
telescoped time and escalated feelings.

Maybe
she’d get hurt again, but with T.J. she’d be ready for it. She’d take her
pleasure and keep her shields in place when he walked away.

But now
she couldn’t think of anything but getting naked again with this man as fast as
possible. They tore each other’s clothes off and fell on each other with a
barely controlled hunger. His hands played her body like a musical instrument,
touching here, there, everywhere. His tongue traced circles around her nipples,
flicking over the pebbled surfaces then tugging on them with his lips. She felt
every tug straight to her womb, little moans whimpering from her mouth.

Her
hands reached for his cock, already thick and swollen, her thumb brushing back
and forth over the velvety head, smoothing the liquid beading at the slit. It
pulsed beneath her fingers, hot and turgid. She would have rolled him over and
taken him into her at once but he held her down, using his mouth on her
everywhere.

Strong
hands separated her thighs and his heated mouth closed over her clit, biting it
gently. Lightning zapped her at the contact. She arched up to him, and he
plunged two fingers inside her pussy. She felt them caressing her inner flesh,
stroking her while he worked her clit until she fell plunging over the edge,
shuddering with the strength of her release.

He gave
her no chance to rest, to regain her strength. Nor did she want to. The first
orgasm created a burning need for another. He moved his talented mouth down to
close over her opening, licking the rim of it with his tongue. She clutched his
shoulders, muscles rippling beneath the taut skin as he licked and sucked and
pushed her to a second release.

She was
still quivering when he suited up and drove into her, taking her with one swift
thrust. He rocked into her, in and out, thick shaft stretching her tissues.
Beneath her hands she could feel the fine tension running through his body as
he rode her, pushing, pushing, pushing.

This
time they came together, the inner walls of her cunt clamping down on him like
a wet fist, grasping the length of his pulsing cock. Their bodies shook with
the force of the orgasm. She could feel his heart beating against her chest,
hear the rasp of his breath mingling with hers. It was a long time before they
settled, lying limp and sweaty in each other’s arms.

“I think
the food might be a little cold,” he joked.

“It’s
okay. I’m told cold Chinese food is good for you.”

“I guess
we’re about to find out.” He stroked her cheek. “You were okay coming over
here? I can’t help but worry about, you know, stuff.”

“No
problems, but I think you’ve got
me
spooked by shadows now,” she told
him. “I kept checking in my rear view and side mirrors all the way over here.”

“You
can’t be too cautious,” he reminded her. “I don’t think they’ve locked onto me
yet. But I never know when I’ll trip something going through those files and
god, Casey. I don’t want to put you in danger. My brain must be scrambled to
even get you involved.”

“Hey.
I’m a big girl. It’s my choice, too.” She ran her fingertips through the hair
on his chest. “I’m sorry if my mother made you feel uncomfortable today.”

He
chuckled. “If that’s the worst thing I have to face these days, I welcome it.”

“Speaking
of which.” She threw the covers back and rose to her feet. “We should go over
what you found today. See how far you got. And decide how much more you have to
have before contacting your friend.”

T.J.
pulled on his boxers while Casey dragged his shirt over her head, the fabric
reaching halfway down her thighs. She took a moment to inhale the scent of him
still clinging to the material.

“I’ll
dish up the food,” he told her, “and then we can get to work.”

*****

The two
men waited in the shadows of the building, blending into the darkness of the
night. They would have to be careful about how they did the job. For the last
two nights, the man had a woman in the motel with him so they’d have to create
a way to get him alone. He was a cautious damn bastard, but they figured anyone
running from Serrano had to be.

They
waited in silence, not moving. Not even smoking. A cigarette would give them
away. Breathing too hard might do the same thing.

Lucky
for them, their quarry happened to be the sole occupant on the rear side of the
motel. No one else to worry about.

Bando
Abrego cupped his watch and pushed the button to check the time again. A few
more minutes and their plan would move into action. He counted off the time in
his head. When he heard the scrape of shoes on the pavement, he turned and saw
the whore they’d hired to put on her act. He nodded at her, she hurried to the
door he pointed out and started pounding on it.

“Help!”
she cried. “Please, someone, help me.
Madre di Dios,
open up. Please.”

Bando and
his companion, Leon Cervize, waited on either side of the entryway as the whore
played out her part. In what seemed like interminable seconds, the door cracked
open, the chain still on. The man appeared in the opening.

“What’s
the matter?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

The
whore, appropriately mussed, began pleading again for him to help her. Bando
and Leon made their move, using their combined weight to break the flimsy
chain. On the bed a naked woman held the sheet to her chin and screamed her
head off. Leon burst into the room, clamped his hand over her mouth and with a
single blow knocked her cold.

Bando
grabbed their prey and plunged a syringe into him, the one they’d been given to
quiet him down. They waited a few minutes to see if the screaming would draw
anyone to the room. When nothing happened, he and Leon lifted the man to his
feet and dragged him off to their truck. The whore, now paid, scurried away as
fast as she could.