Dirty Deeds (21 page)

"Back at ya." She kissed his neck. "Mmm, salty."

A growl sounded low in his throat, like the one she'd heard under the stars and it made her pulse roar. "You're dangerous." His words were muttered against her ear, his breath hot.

"Well, I do carry a gun."

"It's not your gun I'm worried about."

She leaned away from him and studied his face. "I worry you?"

She hadn't stopped to think about how she might be affecting him. So far she'd been focused on her own feelings, how strange it was to be hot and bothered for a man she knew little about, though she'd spent more than a few minutes googling him and the reading was quite interesting. That was just the press and she knew better than to use that as measuring stick for the real man.

He let her go, walking to the battered sofa where he sat and began to take off his skates. His eyes were focused on his feet. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not."

"Well, that's just about as clear as mud." She went over and sat next to him on the sofa. Maybe she'd gone too far, but he'd initiated the kiss. All she'd done was reciprocate. Right?

"What brought you here?" he asked.

She could lie and make up some excuse about needing more information on James. It would save face in many ways except it wasn't true. She wanted to be up front with Paul. Honesty was important.

"I came to see you."

"Why?" He dropped the skates to the floor with a loud thud. He turned to look at her, his brilliant green eyes focused on her face. She had absolutely no idea what was going through his mind at the moment.

Damn, but he was handsome. She was surprised some supermodel hadn't snapped him up years ago. What he saw in her was a mystery. Louie was a long way from supermodel and could never compete at that level. Not that she was ugly. She was confident in her own style and look; it worked for her without requiring too much effort on her part. She just wasn't a beautiful woman and never would be. Not to mention primping wasn't exactly her style. Way too much work when she could be doing something far more interesting.

She looked over at Paul now and wondered what she should tell him. She started with the truth so she might as well go for it—balls to the wall as Chris loved to say.

With a breath, she said quickly, "Because I was afraid you'd leave for Canada and I might never see you again."

He reached out and touched her hair. His eyes became soft, and Louie decided she'd never seen a more beautiful man. "You
will
see me again."

"Promise?" Her voice was a husky whisper.

He pulled her to him and kissed her. "Promise."

She was breathless a moment later when she came up for air. She laughed lightly. "You'd think we were both about seventeen."

He kissed her lips, her cheeks, her eyes. "I don't know about you but I feel like I'm seventeen again. Even with everything horrible that's happened, the second I touch you, nothing else matters. You make me feel hope."

She ran her hand against his cheek, liking the way fine stubble tickled her palm. "This is crazy, you know."

"Yup." He pressed his body against hers, and she could tell exactly how he was feeling. "Crazy."

She put both hands on his chest and pushed herself back. "I am not doing
that
here."

"You were game up there in the deep, dark forest." His eyes were sparkling.

She schooled her features into her I-mean-business expression. "Yes, well, I have a perfectly good bed at home and the next time you want to jump my bones, you can plan on doing it there."

"How does half an hour sound?" He winked.

She tingled from head to foot at his suggestion and hoped she didn't flush a telltale red all over. She didn't need to broadcast her willingness any more. She leaned into him and kissed him quick. "Make it an hour."

He groaned. "I don't think I can wait that long."

"All the better."

Louie jumped up and hurried to the office door. She blew him a kiss. "You have one hour."

* * * *

He had plenty of undisturbed time to go through her desk. The office was as empty as the parking lot had been when he let himself in. No one would be the wiser and he'd be all the better informed. He needed to know what Russell did. After he finished going through her records, he left everything as he found it. Gloves made certain he didn't leave fingerprints.

The search of her office and files didn't turn up much. Good for him and good for her. The less she knew, the longer she'd stay alive. Still, he had to be certain. There was far too much at stake to let anything slip at this point.

What he didn't like was the fact she not only had the files for James McDonald still on her desk, but she'd also pulled the files on her brother. Right next to those two were photocopies of the police reports on Kendall Stewart. She wasn't closing things out like she needed to do if she wanted to stay alive.

Not that he was all that surprised. Louie Russell rarely did what she was told. Rumor had it that while with the Spokane Police Department she caused more than a few ruffled feathers with her no-nonsense style and refusal to bend to pure politics. It was probably a good thing she'd switched careers. In the long run, she may not have made it within a system that clung to its politics with such feverish dedication. She was a rogue, an individual with a strong sense of right and wrong. It was all black and white for Russell. There was never any gray.

He understood that in the real world there was much gray. He was one who embraced that shadowy land falling somewhere between right and wrong where he felt most comfortable and most at home. She'd never be able to understand and it really was a shame. She could be valuable in his business if she'd open her mind to the possibilities it presented. The real world was far more gray than black or white. She refused to grasp that reality and wishing otherwise wasn't going to change her. That was why he was here now. She must be watched and possibly stopped at the same end of the barrel that had been pointed at her brother's head.

If she was to stay alive, somehow she'd have to be guided away from pursuing the McDonald issue any further. She didn't need to stick her nose in where it wasn't needed. Besides, plenty of police were on the case. The thought of everyone looking for him, the mysterious gunman, made him smile. Even with the ballistics matches that had been made, they'd never track it back to him. So beautiful and so entertaining.

He'd planned to use an untraceable rifle on McDonald and then decided
what the hell
. Much more fun to use Old Faithful on number three. The games were the best part of the chase for him, and he took his fun wherever he could find it. Everything he did had to have an element of entertainment or what was the point? A person only went around one time, and he had every intention of making his go-around enjoyable.

Then there was the urge to put holes in chests or the occasional forehead. Hey, once a trained killer, always a trained killer. That urge wasn't something a person took on and off like a jacket. Once that particular coat was on, it was on for life. Sorry if folks didn't like it, but they were the ones who'd made him this way, so they'd just have to find a way to live with it. He sure had.

Still, he liked Louie and didn't want to have to exercise his considerable skill on her tasty little body. Few women held a candle to her either in looks or brains. Such a waste if he was forced to put her down. She could handle a gun as well as any man he'd ever run into, and that meant a great deal to him. Guns were the most alluring lover he ever encountered. He'd been entranced as a young man, and they'd never lost their luster in his heart. Unlike most people, guns were dependable. They never argued, they never aged, they never failed.

Now that James McDonald was in cold storage, the immediate pressure was off. He'd been the last link to big trouble, and probably the most dangerous. Not because he was vicious or threatening; just the opposite. McDonald had been a threat because he'd been both honest and stupid at the same time. Rather odd considering his decision to join in a criminal endeavor. He'd been a naive drug runner whose heart wasn't in it. He wanted the easy money. They all wanted money. Who didn't?

What James hadn't wanted was the criminal persona and the violence that always lurked just beneath the surface. What he came to find out, as did all who put their toes into this particular pool, was that he couldn't have one without the other. When he tried, the price was very high. He wasn't able to swim. McDonald drowned.

He, on the other hand, found a way to reconcile the whole mess within his own heart. Sleep came quite easy and untroubled. Any doubts he had about the business and what he'd become had been managed a very long time ago.

When there was nothing left to read, he clicked off the reading lamp on the corner of Russell's desk and left her office. She'd never know he was there, never realize he'd been through every paper and file in her office. He was good. He was very, very good. If anyone harbored doubt, all they had to do was ask him.

The door closed with a quiet snap and the room was thrown into blackness. He turned in the hallway between the two offices and stopped short, halted by a presence he hadn't expected.

His heart lurched. A woman stood in the doorway, a tiny dark shadow against the golden glow filtering in from the parking lot lights. Then, as he got a good look at the other visitor, a smile crept up his face.

"Tsk, tsk." He moved slowly toward the old woman.

She backed away from him. "She'll know." Meg's voice trembled.

"Not if no one tells her," he said smugly.

Her small hand was on the handle of the outer door. "I'll tell her. I already left a message for her."

"Now that's a shame."

"I'm not scared of you." She stood tall and proud, her hand dropping away from the door. "I've faced worse than you."

He smiled and closed the distance between them with two steps. His hands circled her thin neck. "Oh, I doubt that."

* * * *

The thought she was going nutso flashed through Louie's mind more than once during the drive home from the arena. Talk about throwing herself at a man. She'd all but thrown Paul on the floor of his office and ripped his clothes off. The only thing that had held her back had been the thought of her nice, comfortable king-sized bed. After the night under the stars, she was ready for something a little more refined. Beautiful as the forest had been, bed covers and a mattress had such a nice ring.

At the same, she was also ready for more than the wildness they'd shared with nature as the backdrop. Her heart thumped and she clutched her steering wheel as she recalled the fever that seemed to have gripped both of them under the dark sky with the twinkling stars. She'd never felt that before. She'd never shimmied out of her clothes in the wide-open like that before, let alone even felt like doing it. But with Paul, she hadn't been able to get out of her clothes fast enough, even surrounded by pine trees and tiny forest dwellers.

She rushed home, jumped in the shower and then slipped into a flowing cotton dress. She smoothed it over her hips once, twice, three times. She was as nervous as if she were a virgin bride awaiting her brand new husband's arrival. Pacing in front of the window, she kept glancing out at the road, lights of the occasional car hitting the window and then passing by. What seemed like an eternity later, a pair of headlights pulled into the driveway and then switched off. She smoothed the dress once more before she went to the door and opened it.

Even in the twilight of the early evening, Paul looked good. The sun was low over the mountains to the west lighting up the sky in brilliant ruby and deep sapphire hues, Louie's favorite. The backdrop, combined with his red hair and green eyes, made him look like something out of an Allan Ramsay painting. His strong Scottish heritage showed in his face and body. Had he lived a few centuries earlier, Paul would have been a fine subject for Ramsay.

His eyes seemed to light up when he looked her over. Probably the dress. People didn't see her in one very often. She'd never been the girliest of girls, and dresses were more a necessary evil than a staple in her wardrobe. Right now, she was glad she'd slipped it on. She liked the look in his eyes, which sent a warm shiver through her whole body.

"Come in." She stood back and motioned him in. Lordy, he not only looked good, he smelled great.

"Hi."

Ah, a man of few words. Talking could be so overrated at times. Her body buzzed, and she was about ready to jump out of her skin if he didn't touch her soon. So much for cool, calm and collected Louie Russell, Bail Enforcement Agent extraordinaire. How about jumpy and more accurately, horny Louie Russell, woman.

He seemed to read her mind because he kicked the door shut with one foot and grabbed her at the same time. She was crushed against his chest in the blink of an eye. His mouth crushed hers and he thrust his tongue inside in a wonderfully erotic kiss that had her quivering inside. Oh, he'd so read her mind.

"Bedroom?" he asked, his lips still touching hers.

Louie pointed behind her without moving her mouth away while staying tight against his hard, lean body.

It happened so fast. One second they were in the entry and the next they were in her bedroom with clothes flying in all directions. So much for the pretty dress. Just the look on his face alone was worth the price of the lovely little thing. She'd have to remember that in the future. Presuming, of course, that there was a future in store for them.

That thought was the only blight on the frenzy that took hold of them. She didn't want anything to break the mood and pushed the disturbing thought away. It had no business in the here and now. All she wanted in this moment was the beautiful man who was about to make love to her. Sometimes all that was really important was the moment. She learned five years ago that a wise person seized the opportunity when it came because without warning it could all be gone.

His lips met hers once more and the thrill that raced through her body was exhilarating. In a flash, everything came roaring back: the passion that had begun beneath a star-lit sky, the emotions bottled inside her for so many years, and the need for a man's touch. No, that wasn't entirely correct. It was the need for his touch. For Paul McDonald's touch.