Hot Contract (5 page)

The drive paralleled the road before looping
back. Paradise done up as a hell of cold mud. Now there was a
thought. He blew into his cupped hands, gave up and jammed them
down in his pockets instead. If someone made him pull his hands
out, they deserved to die. On a pity scale of one to ten, he was a
freaking eleven. No wonder Corlis didn’t want anything to do with
him. He didn’t want anything to do with him. Two decades of heaven
and hellfire, and she’d been playing him the whole time.

“Padraic!”

He almost didn’t stop. “What,” he said
finally, not inviting a reply. Maybe she’d get a clue and go away.
But being Corlis, sure enough she just stood there, holding all her
weight on one leg. She’d been wounded a couple of missions back and
Fallon knew the physical therapy wasn’t going well. He’d rubbed the
knot out of her thigh often enough. She had to be cramping.

He hesitated, “Want me to—”

“No.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“We can’t go on like this,” she began,
starting the speech he’d never wanted to hear.

She wasn’t fooling him. He’d given her the
perfect excuse to go back to her old partner, Nick. Shit, he didn’t
want to hear it. “Not interested,” he told her.

Corlis snapped a hand out and caught his dog
tags. The thick, ball-link chain almost strangled him. He slipped
them up over his head and let her have them. He wanted to push her
against the nearest tree and kiss the hell out of her, but her
expression was far from welcoming.

She balled up his tags and flung them back.
“Get over it. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

“Corlis!”

He made her stop, although the way she stood
told him just how much she wanted to leave. She refused to turn and
kept her back to him, and in a way he was glad. God knew the odds
of him doing something spectacularly stupid had just gone down. He
didn’t want to lose her.

“This conversation is over,” she said.
“Finish your run and we’ll trade off.”

****

Fallon shoved through the looming tree-ferns.
He had his tags, but didn’t remember picking them up. The tarnished
rectangles cut into his palm, and the red haze to his vision looked
like blood.

Something moved in his peripheral vision.
Fallon spun violently, lips drawn back over his teeth. A wall of
brambles rose between him and the road. The branches were the only
things shielding him from...Deacon O’Malley? Wasn’t that a
bitch?

The big blond was almost a full head taller
than Fallon and outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Last time
they’d met, the ex-CIA agent had threatened to kick Fallon's teeth
in, which bothered him about—yeah, that much.

Deacon was down on the ground and there were
a bunch of somebodies kicking the shit out of him, which made
Fallon as happy as he’d been in a long time. He settled in against
a tree, arms folded down over his chest. It was better than an
Asian thriller because, no joke, Deacon rolled over on his knees,
got kicked in the ass, and hydroplaned through the mud, arms
flailing. Terminally stupid, with a strong emphasis on terminal.
His attackers were on him like flies on shit, buzzing in for the
kill.

Fallon scratched behind his ear.

It was obvious Deacon had run into a trap.
The barricade was classic warfare on a budget. He had gotten out of
his car, in the middle of nowhere; knowing trees didn’t just fall
over for no damned reason. He deserved an ass-kicking. His
attackers spread out behind him in a half-circle, herding him into
the trees. And there he went again—Deacon doing the maggot, up and
crawling straight at Fallon.

No reason for four guys to barricade the road
unless they were laying for him and Fallon could sympathize. He
hated the man, but dead wasn’t good enough. He stepped out into the
open, smiled at Deacon’s incredulous look and dropped him with a
quick kick to the jaw.

His attackers didn’t stop and Fallon was in
no mood to back off. He pulled his knife. If they weren’t in it for
Deacon, they were in it for Jen.

This was business.

****

Corlis backed out of the refrigerator with a
carved porcelain bowl. The elegant dish was rimmed with frost and
the eggs were frozen, which didn’t make sense since nothing else
was frozen.

She tipped one out and frowned. They weren’t
supposed to bounce.

“I have to go to the luau,” Jen was
saying.

Keegan’s deeper voice said something in
return, a low murmur that made the StallingCo heiress go off.

“My family—”

Her family?

You’d think people that freaking rich would
have a live-in servant or something. Someone who could cook.

A chunk of frozen egg white chipped off under
her nail. “Got any hot sauce?” she called.

Jen ducked into a cupboard and came out with
a skinny bottle. Verde. Right, it figured.

A pounding came from the front of the house.
Keegan made for the door with Corlis right behind him. The tiny
vestibule at the bottom of the stairs was barely big enough for
one, but Fallon shoved his prize in feet first and managed to fold
him in two.

“I'll grab his shoulders,” said Keegan. “You
grab his legs.”

Fallon moved around the man he’d dragged in
and slipped both arms under his knees. Enormous feet in big white
sneakers splayed out on either side of him. Fallon swore under his
breath and crabbed up the stairs backwards.

Keegan jerked his chin. “Remember this
guy?”

He held the other half, head and enormous
bull-like neck. The body in-between was familiar. Fallon reached
back to help him and between the two of them they managed to roll
their burden out into the middle of the room.

Deacon O'Malley. “I know him.” But not for
much longer. This time it was up close and personal. Corlis wanted
to kill the man whose stupid grandstanding had condemned Fallon to
months of torture in a Peruvian prison.

Jen shoved her aside, pushing in front of
everybody like a Christmas shopper. “
Deacon?
Oh my God!”

She grabbed Deacon and brought her hands away
bloody, staring at her fingers like she was going to faint. As
street theater, all that shaking and moaning left a lot to be
desired. Where was the screaming fit or projectile vomiting? That
wounded doe look made Corlis want to shoot her.

Keegan pulled Jen away and dragged her into
the kitchen.

“Hold your hands out,” he told her, loud and
urgent like Corlis rarely heard him. “Damn it, Jen. Listen to
me—”

Fallon looked up from where he was rummaging
through Deacon’s pockets. “Project security."

He tossed her an ID folder. Corlis flipped it
open and compared the handsome, laughing guy in the picture to the
man in front of her.

“From CIA to security guard. That’s got to
suck.”

Fallon got to his feet and started toward
her, a sick, angry look in his eyes that she wished she hadn’t
seen. He covered it up fast, almost too fast. Like he’d finally
come to the point where he expected nothing from her and didn’t
care if she knew it.

Keegan stopped Jen in the doorway, watching
them with an expression that suggested he was rethinking the
current team assignments.

Her fingers flashed a quick gesture.
Not
now—

Fallon shot her a sharp look.
When?

Corlis leaned forward, her body language
shifting to high tension.
Tonight.

Jen rolled the kitchen towel between her
palms. Thank God Keegan had got the blood off before she went
crazy. One witness to her madness was bad enough.

Keegan took the towel from her and tossed it
back down the hall. She stopped herself from rubbing her
knuckles.

“He’s unconscious,” she said.

Fallon nodded. “Damn straight. Good odds for
a beating. He was on the losing end. Big, slow and stupid.”

“He’s my friend!”

“Baby, we all got problems. Anything to eat
up in here?”

“Why didn’t you help him?”

“He’s alive, ain’t he? Considering the
history between us, I’d say he got off easy.” Fallon disappeared
down the hallway and came back with the eggs. He stripped the shell
from one with quick, efficient movements. “Salt?” he asked, looking
around like she carried a salt shaker in her pocket, disappointed
that she didn’t.

Deacon moaned to life, thrashing wildly. He
stilled after a second and sat up. “Damn,” he slurred, pushing a
tangle of bright yellow hair out of his eyes. “It’s fucking DalCon.
What are you doing here, sir?”

He was talking to Keegan. Jen’s eyes went
wide when she realized he was calling Keegan, sir. They widened
even more when she realized what he’d said.

Had he just swore? Deacon never swore.

“We’re on a job,” Fallon said. He crammed the
egg into his mouth and choked, spitting it back in the bowl. “What
the hell
is
that?”

Deacon rolled up on one elbow, feeling his
jaw and glaring at Fallon. “I mean, I thought I saw him but I
couldn’t be sure. It’s not every day that Pat Fallon comes charging
through the trees—”

“Padraic Fallon, asshole.” Fallon ran a
finger around the inside of his mouth and spat.

Corlis moved out of the shadows, her eyes
hard and flat. “O’Malley.”

“Liss?”

Deacon got his knees under him, expanding
upward like a big blond grizzly. His mop of sun-streaked hair hung
in his earnest blue eyes. He was the same Deacon he’d always been,
only the words were different.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, moving
toward her like he wanted a hug.

Corlis stopped him with a look. “We’re not
friends. Touch me now, and I’ll cut your balls off. Why here?”

“Why not? The money is good and I get to stay
in one place. Shitload of advantages. No down side. Until now—ah,
Jesus! Jen, I thought—I don’t know what I thought, but it was all
bad. I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

He pulled Jen to his incredibly broad chest
and squeezed hard. “Jenny-fleur....”

He released her but kept her hand, running
his fingers over the back of her knuckles. Looking for...comfort?
He’d been engaged to Terri and the knowledge was there in the look
they exchanged.

“I’m sorry...” she whispered around the lump
in her throat.

“Yeah,” he said thickly. “So am I. But that’s
not what I came for. I need a favor.”

She nodded and his fingers grew frantic,
rubbing her knuckles like he wanted her to grant him a wish.

“Do you remember last year?” he asked. “That
protest group, the Aina? They reappeared a month ago with a new
leader and a different agenda. They want the Project gone and their
methods are escalating. I’ve heard they’ll be at the Kualani luau.
Please, Jen...I need you to invite me.”

Jen tried to draw away, only to have him hang
on to her. “Who are the Aina? And why do you care if they’ll be at
Aunt Kate’s luau?” She pulled at her hand. “Deacon?”

Keegan pried him off. “You’re scaring
her.”

Deacon was painfully intense, his eyes
haunted. “Sir, I want to scare her. She has to understand—”

“Stay where you are,” said Corlis. She turned
her gun, flattening her wrist. “Move on my brother again, and I’ll
blow you away. I don’t care who you are.”

“I know Terri didn’t kill herself,” said
Deacon. He pulled a small box from his pocket and tossed it to
Keegan.

“An engagement ring?” Keegan gave him a sharp
look. “You were engaged to Terri Rodgers?”

“Yeah, the operative word is was. I wasn’t
fucking there. I was in Hilo getting the ring sized. It was too
small...God, I’d give anything to have that morning back. I’d...I
would have saved her.” Deacon spun on his heel, ignoring Corlis.
“I’m going after them, Jen. With you or without you, with your
invitation or not. I’m going to kill Kuipo.”

Jen caught his arm. “The Aina killed Terri?
And Kuipo is their leader?”

“You can’t change the past,” Keegan said.
“Let it go.”

“Fuck that. I’m not letting anything go. Try
again.” Deacon looked straight at Keegan. “Sir.”

“I don’t know what they look like,” said Jen.
“They could be out there right now, watching us. That’s who you
were fighting. Omigod, Deacon. You led the Aina to me.”

The thick sweater she’d changed into wasn’t
enough. Jen shivered, rubbing at her arms.

Keegan shook his head at her. “Don’t fall
apart now.”

“Info for backup,” Deacon said quickly.

“What do you have?”

He sat quietly for a few moments. “You know
how it is when a group gets so big they start throwing off splinter
cells? The Aina fragged about seven months ago. Their leader is a
woman who calls herself Kuipo. I know for a fact she’ll be at the
Kualani luau. She’s calling in her people, getting ready for some
kind of move. It’s solid, sir. All the way, solid. I was working it
myself.”

Keegan tossed the ring back.

Deacon caught it with both hands and Jen got
the impression he was holding on to his sanity in much the same
way. He didn’t look at anyone, eyes locked on the glittering
diamond.

“What can you do for me?” he asked.

Keegan shook his head. “We have a client, you
know where I stand.”

“Guess that’s it then.” Deacon shoved the
ring down in his pocket and started away.

Jen spoke up. “Deacon?”

For a second she thought he wouldn’t answer,
but their friendship must have still meant something to him,
because he stopped—although he kept his gaze firmly on the floor.
“Not now, Jen. Please?”

The tension in the room ran like invisible
wires. Corlis made a low sound, lips pulling up off her teeth.
Fallon blocked her, pointing the egg bowl at her like a gun. He was
clean from the wrists down, but blood caked the stiff fabric of his
sleeves.

“If I can handle it, you can too. Let it go,
Liss.”