Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) (6 page)

9

G
ENEVA
LAY
ON
HER
SIDE
in bed, pressing her hot cheek against her pillowcase, cooling her skin as well as hiding her dorky grin. Which made her feel even sillier still since there was no one around to see it.

She sighed and rolled onto her back, her entire body seeming to vibrate.

Oh, how good it had felt to be kissed, touched, to the point where she no longer recognized herself. She liked, no loved, who she’d turned into. And she wanted to get to know her better.

Wanted to get to know Mace better. A lot better.

Of course, that was an improbability. But just having those few minutes with him earlier…

The power of her sigh seemed to bow the windows outward.

She found herself absently touching her belly in much the same way she had been in recent weeks, yet differently. There was life in her and life all around her. Rainbows bursting with color and light even in the dark of night. Bright passion reminding her she had needs beyond her usual day-to-day grind.

“Friends. We’re just friends.”

She grasped the extra pillow on her queen-size bed and hugged it close, breathing in deeply, imagining she could still smell his cologne, still smell him.

She rolled on to her side again and stared at the clock. It was after midnight. She needed to be up early to work the breakfast shift. Then she needed to finish the Johnson account, follow up on two important quotes and work on a new logo for Ames Green Technology.

Why did she have the feeling she wasn’t going to be able to sleep?

And why didn’t she care?

She moved the pillow to rest between her thighs.

Wow.

She restlessly licked her lips and then replaced the pillows with her hands.

Oh, yes. That was much more like it…

She imagined it was Mace’s hand there still, stroking her, probing her, bringing her pleasure.

Her cell phone chimed once and her hands froze. Who would be texting her so late?

She rolled over to retrieve her cell from the nightstand.

Mace.

She held the bit of plastic and electronic wizardry against her chest and smiled that dorky smile again before even reading it.

“Really enjoyed tonight. Sweet dreams…”

She read and reread his words, taking notice of the ellipsis at the end, as if leading into something else.

“Stop it,” she ordered herself.

She accessed the text again and responded.

“’Night night. Sleep tight.”

She hesitated, then pressed Send.

She lay for long moments just holding the phone against her chest, then forced herself to put it back on the nightstand.

This could be dangerous, a little voice whispered.

But it would be oh, so worth it…

* * *

M
ACE
CHECKED
HIS
WATCH
: one hour until transport.

The route from Norman’s hotel to the hall where he was scheduled to address a political rally was exactly 1.354 miles, and he was walking it one last time before being picked up and driven to the hotel.

Having spent a great deal of time in Colorado Springs, he’d always viewed Denver as the city’s older, bolder sister. Buildings were bigger, streets were wider and the citizens more nervy.

Having spent the majority of his career specializing in counter-terrorism, he knew a view from the street would help him note aspects he wouldn’t otherwise see; side entryways into commercial courtyards, parking garages that couldn’t be blocked, public buildings and private residences he couldn’t hope to cover. He’d walked it the day before; he was walking it again.

He’d gone over the intelligence the Lazarus team had gathered on possible suspects behind the threats made on General Stan “The Man” Norman’s life. The detail—including sheriff’s deputies and Norman’s private security—all had photos of the nine most likely, with special emphasis on the fact the threat could originate with more than one of them…or none.

The day was clear and seasonal for November, with temps around fifty degrees. Mace’s plain black suit, white shirt and nondescript tie were enough to identify him to fellow team members, but weren’t obvious enough that he stood out in the crowd. Of course, if someone looked close enough, his reflective sunglasses and earpiece could give him away.

He listened as final pre-event checks were made on those premises deemed the most vulnerable and okays issued, even as he noted additional weaknesses in the route and considered options to protect them.

He was seriously considering rerouting the rally drive, even though Norman himself had made it very clear this was the one he wanted to take, since there were at least two “support” gatherings along the way scheduled to watch his car go by. While Mace had never overseen nor participated in a similar occasion, he’d educated himself over the past two days enough to where he felt semi-comfortable.

And he didn’t care for the changing variables.

In addition to the support gatherings, he was assured there would also be anti-Norman assemblies, as well.

Midmorning pedestrians walked the streets alongside him, commuters drove on the streets, bike riders zoomed by and delivery trucks came and went. Nothing looked out of the ordinary and he had every reason to expect everything to go smoothly.

Still, he couldn’t help feeling he was missing something.

He acknowledged the sensation could stem from caution honed over his years in the service, time he’d spent stationed where anyone and everyone was a possible suspect, including women and children, in innocuous locations that appeared peaceful but could turn into hell within a blink.

Combine all that with natural instincts that had rarely steered him wrong and he wouldn’t be comfortable until this assignment was over.

He reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He didn’t realize what he was looking for until he didn’t see it: namely, any calls or texts from Geneva.

Merely thinking her name made him hot for her all over again.

He slid the cell back into his pocket and ordered himself to get back on point.

The memory of her mouth, her soft cries, were enough to keep him up longer than he’d have liked.

If only Reece had texted him a little later, he would have taken her back to her bedroom and found out just how far her responsiveness went.

“Sir, check complete.” Jonathon Reece’s voice came through his earpiece.

He moved to press the button to allow him to respond when a man wearing a gray hoodie walked from one of those courtyards that caused such concern and cut in front of him, catching his shoulder.

Mace stopped, watching as the man unapologetically continued walking across the street with barely a look at traffic.

Awareness ran through Mace as he tried to match the man to any of the nine guys they’d identified as threats and came away with a negative.

Which meant little. Yet it could mean everything.

“Sir?” Jon’s voice sounded again.

Mace pressed the button that was part of the earpiece. “Very good, Reece. Have everyone walk it again, this time from the opposite direction.”

Silence. Then, “Roger that.”

He released the button. He knew Reece disagreed with his orders. But he would do as requested, no questions asked.

The hooded man disappeared from view into another courtyard across the way.

Mace remained watching after him, then crossed the street to follow…

* * *

“S
O
…”

Geneva wiped down the counter after the lunch crowd had mostly dissipated and the instant she reached the end where Trudy was taking her usual, post rush coffee, her friend and employer decided some conversation was in order.

“So, what?” she asked.

Trudy stared at her over her reading glasses where she read the daily paper, words unneeded.

The diner had mostly emptied out aside from a couple of lingering regulars and the help, including her and Trudy, the day cook and a part-time busboy who even now cleared the last of the tables and was preparing to mop before the dinner shift took over.

“Sit,” Trudy ordered more than requested.

“I just wanted to finish—”

“Now.”

Geneva poured herself a cup of decaf and sat.

In the time she’d worked there, Trudy had proven to be just as much of a second mother as she was an employer to Geneva. She had her own family, but everyone who worked the diner was an extended family of sorts…unconditional until someone violated the terms.

Like Cindy, whom Trudy had fired the next time the blind-date opting brunette had showed up for her next shift and had forgotten to feign the illness from which she’d claimed to be suffering that had kept her from work. Unfortunately, that left them short another pair of hands every day until Trudy found a suitable replacement. Something experience told Geneva could be weeks.

“So, does he know?” Trudy asked.

Geneva pretended that adding sugar and creamer to her cup required her undivided attention. “Who?”

Another over-the-glasses look.

“About the baby? Yes. Yes, he does know.”

Trudy made a quiet sound. “And do you think he might stick around for a while?”

Geneva nearly choked on her coffee.

Trudy sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

Geneva felt inexplicably irritated. “I know you’re concerned about me, Trudy. Really…I do. But this…Mace…” Merely saying his name made the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach flutter faster. “He makes me feel good. The way he looks at me…makes me feel not like a waitress, or a friend, or an expectant mother, but like a…well, woman…I like it. What’s wrong with enjoying it while I can?”

“The problem is your hormones are running in circles…and it’s important you not forget you are an expectant mother.”

“Trust me, that’s not something I can exactly forget.”

“Oh? Because the way I see it, you’re trying pretty hard.”

Talk about pins and balloons.

Of course, what Geneva was leaving out of the equation was that despite last night’s unexpected turn of events, she and Mace weren’t truly dating, they were only pretending to date.

Not that she’d tell Trudy that. Aside from agreeing with Mace that they couldn’t tell anyone in order for this to fly, she knew the instant she breathed word one to the talkative diner owner, everyone would know. Then what value would their agreement have?

She shivered for reasons having nothing to do with the temperature.

“Uh-huh,” Trudy said, rustling her paper.

Geneva took a sip of her coffee. “We’re dating. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Pregnant women don’t date.”

“Why not? Last time I checked, we’re still human.”

“No, you’re not. You’re hormonal.”

“I’ll give you the hormonal part. At any rate, what does it matter? In a week he’ll be gone and everything will return to normal.”

“Depends on how you define normal.”

How did she define normal? What happened last night?

The mere thought…

She couldn’t help smiling.

Which earned her another Trudy frown.

She pushed her cup to the other side of the counter where she could collect it when she walked around.

“Are we done?” she asked.

“I am,” Trudy said. “I think I’ve made my point.”

With a fine-honed carving knife, Geneva wanted to add, “And I hope I’ve made mine.”

She rounded the counter, dumped the contents of her cup into the sink and put it in the bussing bin. She caught Trudy watching her and could have sworn she was hiding a grin behind the paper she pretended to read.

Geneva shook her head and grinned back, then hurried off into the kitchen.

10

M
ACE
RODE
in the trailing car in the passenger’s seat, keeping an eye out and listening to route reports as Norman’s limo drove under the speed limit ahead of them. That sense of wariness remained with him, even though everything was going like clockwork.

So far…

Ahead of the limo, Jonathon Reece rode in the lead sedan, and in the limo itself were two more security personnel, in addition to Norman’s personal assistant and event organizer, who had met him at the hotel.

He resisted rubbing the back of his neck to smooth the prickling there.

General Stan “The Man” Norman had been presentable enough, direct and to the point, an extension of what had likely made him a successful general. More importantly now, he was content to let them decide what he needed to do…beyond his predetermined routes.

Mace didn’t get it. While rumors surrounded the one-time general, now political talk show radio host’s future political plans, he couldn’t understand why the guy garnered so much attention.

“Have you listened to his show?” Dominic Falcone asked Mace from the driver’s seat.

“No.”

“If you had, then you’d know why. They don’t come any more confrontational than the general. Name one group he hasn’t manage to offend and I’ll point how he managed to do it.”

“Sticks and stones…”

“Yeah, well, we all know what words are capable of.”

Indeed, they all did, as history and armed conflict bore out.

In Norman’s case, it seemed many people were interested in stoning him simply for the words he chose.

Earlier that day, the man responsible for putting Mace in this position had called to consult with him. He’d reminded Darius of his mounting debt and assured him he had everything well under control. They’d talked a bit about the kidnapping case that had taken his friend away, and then Dari had asked about the girl he’d been spotted with at The Barracks.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think that had been the true reason behind Dari’s unnecessary call.

“Geneva?” His friend had sounded incredulous when he’d told him. “You do know…”

“Yes, I do.”

Dari’s silence had been louder than a car bomb. “Hey, far be it for me to suggest you don’t know what you’re doing, but, well, do you know what you’re doing?”

“I’m enjoying her company.”

Enjoying her company. Those words seemed to fall far short of the mark. Whatever he was doing, Geneva and her soft lips were there, along the fringes of his thoughts.

He’d texted her a short time ago to tell her he’d see her at the diner later.

She’d texted back with a smiley face and told him to be careful.

He’d nearly texted back saying he was always careful. But then he decided not to. Mainly because he wondered if careful entered anywhere into their situation.

Oh, he knew they were only pretending to date. That when she’d revealed her circumstances, a real relationship was out of the question.

But what had happened last night? There had been nothing fake about his actions…or her reaction.

He’d liked it.

More than liked it, he…

He set his teeth together.

He needed to keep his head in the game.

He and Dari had talked a little while longer, then his friend had signed off with a quiet, “If you need anything, call.”

Mace suspected that Dari had been talking about more than his assignment.

They were nearing the point where he’d run into the hooded man on the street earlier. He went on alert, actively scanning the areas he’d seen the guy. Unfortunately, he’d lost him in the crowd. That meant one of two things: he lived in the area or he was the one they needed to watch out for.

“Damn.”

“What is it?” Falcone asked.

He indicated the corner of the next block where a group of people with signs were gathered.

“Looks to be protesters,” Falcone noted.

That’s exactly what they were. Even at a distance, he could read the signs that ranged from, “Go Home and Be a Man, Norman!” to “Think Outside My Box!”

He’d allowed for the possibility of protestors. He just didn’t like that they were gathered so close to where he’d run into the suspicious character earlier.

“I’m getting out,” he said.

“What?”

“Slow down.”

He issued the command for the lead car to do the same, which would alert the limo driver to follow suit, allowing him to walk alongside the cars until he felt it was safe to move forward.

He climbed out, unfastened the protective strap of his shoulder holster and stepped up next to the limo, careful of traffic coming in the opposite direction.

He heard a woman’s scream from his left, then a shot rang out.

Damn!

He watched as a bullet hit the limo’s shockproof passenger’s window and ricocheted off.

“Move, move, move!” he ordered through his earpiece.

The lead car took off and the limo followed, as did Falcone, protocol dictating the target be protected first, leaving him behind.

He ran in the direction the gunshot had been fired from…

* * *

G
ENEVA
LOOKED
at the wall clock that hung above the jukebox for the fifth time in as many minutes. Seven o’clock had come and gone, and other than the brief text that morning she’d received from Mace saying he’d see her later, she hadn’t heard from him.

“What’s the matter? He stand you up?”

The words came from Tiffany, who appeared a little too smug for her liking, and were loud enough for everyone—including Mel in the back—to hear.

She caught Trudy’s gaze through the window from where she worked in the kitchen and tried not to make a face.

She wasn’t so much afraid of being stood up as she was worried about Mace’s safety.

Word of the attempt on General Norman’s life was all everyone was talking about. It dominated the news that played on the television in the upper corner of the diner that was usually set to a national news channel and muted so you had to read the scroll but it had been changed to a local station to keep up on developing reports on the event.

The goings-on had brought out more people than usual for a Wednesday night. Reactions ranged from “They shouldn’t have missed,” to “There are a lot of crazies out there.”

All Geneva could think about was Mace’s safety.

In the middle of refilling the coffee cups on Table 3, her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She nearly spilled the hot liquid as she hurried to get it out.

“Sorry,” she said, hurrying away.

Mace!

“Hey,” he said simply when she answered.

“Hey, yourself. You okay?”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. What happened today is all over the news.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he said, but she wasn’t convinced. “Sorry, I’m late.”

A thrill ran up her arms at the thought he was still coming. “It’s okay. The diner’s packed.”

But she had reserved a booth in the corner after the last occupants had vacated it at six-thirty.

“Will you be long?” she asked.

“I’m here.”

His words sounded both in her phone…and her free ear.

She turned to see him behind her.

She was sure people around her thought her insane as she ran toward him and hugged him hard…

* * *

M
ACE
HAD
SEEN
such welcomes over the years. At airports, on bases. He’d watched wives and girlfriends embrace their loved ones like they might never let them go.

But he had never been on the receiving end of one.

He couldn’t help chuckling, breathing in the sweet scent of Geneva’s hair. “If that’s your reaction to my being late, I’ll have to arrange to do it more often.”

She drew back and smiled up at him. “I’d advise against it. Trust me.”

Was it possible he missed her? Yes, it was. He’d missed her smile, her wit, her presence. It should have struck him as odd, but somehow it didn’t.

“Sorry I’m late. Something came up at work.”

She squinted. “I already figured that out.” She indicated the television. He looked to see the scene from today being played out via someone’s cell phone camera.

He frowned, watching the cars race off even as he ran after the gunman. But just as had happened earlier, he hadn’t found him. Or her, as the case may be.

But he’d bet a year’s salary the hooded man from earlier in the day was the one behind the shooting.

“Are you okay?” Geneva asked.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” At least he was now. Earlier, he’d been so worked up, he’d barely been able to speak without shouting. He couldn’t help thinking they should have been able to prevent the incident.

He
should have been able to prevent it.

“Come on. Let’s sit down,” Geneva said.

She led him to a corner booth and righted the coffee cup waiting there, filling it from the pot she’d put down before hugging him.

He watched the easy, fluid way she moved. Took in the concerned expression on her beautiful face. The way her hair curled around her head. The bow of her lips as she bit on the bottom one, caught herself, and then stopped.

“Hungry for anything in particular?” she asked.

You,
he wanted to say.

He hadn’t said it, but given the way her eyes darkened as she looked at him, he thought he might have.

“Surprise me,” he said instead.

She twisted those lips he seemed inordinately fascinated with. “Anything you’re allergic to? Dislike?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. But no complaints allowed if I bring you something you don’t like.”

He thought she could bring him liver and he’d not only eat it, but enjoy it.

And he hated liver.

“Will you be joining me?”

She looked around, then back at him. “I’m already supposed to be off, but the place is packed…”

“That’s okay. I understand.”

“But I haven’t eaten yet, so, yes, I will join you. At least for a meal.”

“Good.”

He sat back, watching as she filled a couple of coffee cups and delivered a check on her way toward the kitchen. She had the type of legs he’d love to run his hands over…but it was the memory of the tight wetness that lay between them that made him instantly hard.

He was glad he’d come to the diner. He’d seriously considered canceling, staying back at the motel to go over tomorrow’s schedule, continue consulting with the team to find the man responsible…and devise ways to make sure the guy wouldn’t get another chance to squeeze off a round. As it was, he’d merely planned to drop by, do his part as Geneva’s fake “boyfriend,” then leave.

Now he hoped she’d let him come home with her.

Someone sat down in the booth opposite him. He blinked to find it was Geneva’s friend, Dustin.

Damn.