Ice Cold (9 page)

Honey figured that if she could resist sugar, she could resist something as bad for her as Rafael Navarro. With determination, hard work, and focus, she’d stamp out the ember while it was small and manageable.

“What’s the common denominator between banks in London, Germany, Greece, and Mexico?” she asked, returning to what they’d discussed during the hour-long flight.

The planes and angles of his face were starkly masculine, and women passing gave him interested looks that he either didn’t notice or chose to ignore.

He talked quietly, barely moving his lips, and his voice was right in her ear. Right in her head. She’d be extremely grateful to be in a secure location so they could talk safely and securely from a
distance
. Honey prided herself on being impervious to charming men. Been there, done that, a couple of times. It had taken a time or two to drum the lesson into her head. The T-FLAC shrink had told her she had abandonment issues. She was over those now.

“Safes left unopened.” He glanced at her, and for a moment, their eyes seemed to catch and cause sparks. Ridiculous, of course. Static electricity from the carpet, Honey was sure.

He was still talking; thank God, she hadn’t lost her mind for more than a few seconds. Seconds that at any other time might mean life or death. She really had to pull herself together.

“Big impact, reducing ground zero to rubble.”

Yes. He was big, and he was reducing her dormant sexuality to rubble. He was solid, broad, hard, and mouthwatering all wrapped in one irritatingly appealing package. Only his silky dark hair looked soft as it brushed the collar of his coat. Honey wanted to touch it to see if it was as silky as it looked. She touched her ear to anchor the Bluetooth instead, and damn it, even her own touch made her shiver. She could imagine only too well what his touch would do to her.

“Since the safes weren’t opened in Dresden or Mexico City, and I suspect we’ll find the same here, we can pretty much rule out physical theft.”

She wasn’t one to gloat, so she didn’t remind him that this was now her ballgame almost more than it was his, and that he’d wanted to send her home barely before they arrived in Germany. The playing field had gotten much larger, and while the physical evidence from the bombs–Navarro’s bailiwick–would surely be important, her expertise was far more likely to provide the solution to the greater puzzle. If he’d sent her back to Montana, he’d be regretting it now, and they both knew it.

There was no need to state the obvious. “We’ll rule out the motives, see what we’re left with.”

“Electronic funds transfer?” he muttered in her ear, his focus on moving through the people, not on their conversation. Her shoulder brushed his arm as the herds of passengers going in the opposite direction like migrating bison on the plains of Africa squeezed them together. Their stride was in sync as they walked, as if they’d forged through crowds side by side before. It was strangely intimate walking with Navarro and being invisible among all these hordes of people.

“Seen no indications,” she told him. She’d already gone through several layers to see if large EFTs had occurred. “But still checking.”

“Greed?” he suggested. “Power? Publicity? Revenge?”

All great motivations. “Adventure? Someone with a destructive mindset doing it because they
can
? There are hundreds of possible reasons why.” She just cared about
how
they had done it, because she was sure that someone was stealing a mysterious something.

He glanced at her as they walked. “I don’t give a fuck why, just
who
.”

His words were so close to what she was thinking that Honey almost corrected the verbiage in her head then realized he was the one saying it. That’s what made them polar opposites. Honey couldn’t care less
who,
she just had to know
how
. “Both are key to the investigation. The
why
may lead us to the
who,
and that will inevitably lead us to the
how
. But the
how
could get us all the answers a lot faster; it’s the most direct route.”

Maybe being aware of that basic difference in their natures would keep them farther apart physically. She hoped so. For some reason, whenever she was in close proximity to Navarro, she couldn’t seem to drag enough air into her lungs and it was aggravating as all hell.

There was something captivating about his face when just his eyes smiled. His lips remained immobile and stern, but lights danced in the dark chocolate of his irises. It was as disconcerting as it was maddening. Smile or don’t smile. None of this subliminal crap. The eye contact was fleeting as he faced forward and quickened his steps. “There’s our ride.”

Sleet, driven sideways by high winds, stung their faces as they strode outside, crossing to the curb where the local operative waited in a large, black SUV. Square, black taxis and other vehicles swarmed around it, honking their horns impatiently.

Navarro introduced the man as Hildebrand as the guy opened the rear cargo door and took Navarro’s duffel from him. “This it?” he asked Honey, slinging it into the back. “You travel light.”

She squinted against the stinging sleet. “That’s Navarro’s. This is mine.” Honey indicated the tote she hugged between her arm and body as he opened the passenger door. Everything she needed was in the bag with her laptop and weapon. She rarely required much more than she could carry, and if she did, she’d buy it.

To her surprise and discomfort, Navarro slid in beside her in the front seat. There was plenty of room, but she wasn’t fond of being squeezed in when there was no need. It would be childish to insist he move, so she bit her cheek.

Hildebrand used a bare hand to wipe the fog from the front window as Honey tried not to press her right foot down to break on what was supposed be the driver’s side. She automatically looked in front of her for the steering wheel and caught Navarro’s lips twitching.

“You have the First Responder app layered over Dresden, Mexico, and Greece.” Hildebrand eased into traffic as Honey and Navarro bumped elbows taking their comms out of their coat pockets. “As you can see, we’re already getting reports of the casualties and damage here.” Navarro leaned his elbow on the window ledge as he scrolled through text-dense data. “All the charges were similar in size.”

“They were. The site’s a mess, and this weather isn’t helping. Would you like to set up shop at the safe house or go to ground zero first?”

“Ground zero,” Navarro said at the same time as Honey said, “Safe house.”

The sleety snow pelted the vehicle, sounding like tossed gravel as it
pinged
and
clattered
against glass and metal. The sky hung so low Honey imagined if she stuck her hand out the window, she’d be able to touch it. Of course, that would mean putting her arm across Navarro, which wasn’t going to happen. They were already so close they were breathing the same cold air.

“Drop Winston on the way.” Navarro didn’t look up as he gave the order.

“Will do.”

Like she was a bag of laundry. On the other hand, having a warm, quiet place to set up her computer, with no outside interference, without him as a distraction, would be awesome.

They pulled up in front of a high-rise office building on a busy street in the city center. Here, with its mix of businesses, retail shops, and high-rise flats, the streets would always be busy, allowing an operative to come and go unnoticed. A good, practical location for a safehouse.

Honey took note of a dress shop’s gleaming windows near the glass doors to the building, the ABC chemist shop across the street, and the closed newspaper kiosk on the corner. A few people braved the weather, bundled from nose to toes, leaning into the wind, and moving as quickly as the slick pavement allowed.

“Thirteenth floor. Walk up from twelve, they’re expecting you.”

While Navarro scooted over, opened the door, and climbed out, a woman striding in the opposite direction snagged Honey’s attention. Ankle length, black coat, head covered by a black wool hat, and practically dragging a small, tan and black dog beside her. The dog barked, straining on his leash, while the elegantly dressed woman hauled it along willy-nilly. Something about the woman reminded Honey of the grandmother and little boy in Dresden the day before.

“You getting out?” Navarro asked, arm braced on the car’s roof as he leaned in to talk to her, bringing with him a blast of frigid air.

“Out. Thanks.” Honey buttoned her coat all the way to her throat before sliding across the seat. She swung her booted feet out onto the street. Navarro didn’t step back, and when she straightened, they were nose to nose, his arms bracketing her body. He knew with parallax that the driver couldn’t see what they were doing, damn him. His breath was warm on her upturned face. After giving him a nanosecond to back up, she spread her hand on his chest and gave a little shove.

Immovable object.

“Stop messing with me, Navarro.” She gave him a slightly harder push. “I’m cold and hungry, and we both have work to do.”

“Hmm. But first—” He dipped his head, settling his mouth on hers.

His lips, firm and warm, glided over hers. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t invade, oh, no; he was much too calculating and sneaky for that. He just took. He waited until she had to part her lips to drag in a ragged breath, then his tongue slipped inside, shocking her with his heated boldness.

He tasted of the coffee he’d drunk on the flight, dark and rich, addictive and so bad for her. Too much caffeine stripped the bones of calcium. Gave her the shakes. Just like what kissing him was doing to her. She had to bring this foolishness to a stop. Right away. Now… In a second.

Navarro slid a warm hand around her nape, drawing her closer still, making her shudder in response. His fingers lightly combed through her neatly coiled hair, and Honey felt the cool brush as he unerringly found the hidden pins and loosened them so her hair tumbled in what felt like slo-mo around her shoulders.

The pressure of his mouth on hers was addictive. Her body craved more, and when she found herself pressing closer, wrapping her arm around his waist to hold him—Honey ripped her mouth from his.

“Step back,” she said quietly and coolly, heart racing and skin clammy despite the Arctic weather. The driver was just a couple feet away, and there were people on the street. The man would screw anything not nailed down. Everything Catherine told her was true. “Need a hearing aid, Navarro? Out of my way.”

“I would.” His eyes gleamed hot black and hard as stone. “But you’re wrapped around me like a Persian cat, Winston. Let go. I have a bomb site to look at.”

She jerked away from him—as far away as she could get, cornered between the open car door and his body. “Pull this shit again, and I’ll lodge a complaint with Control while I request a differ—”

“Oy! Oy! Stop ’er! The bitch stole my dog! ‘Scuse me. ‘Scuse me—Get the fuck outta my way! Oy! You there!
Stop
‘er—!”

Navarro pulled Honey tightly against him again as a red-faced guy, holding a newspaper over his head to deflect the sleet, shoved by them as he ran down the sidewalk. Waving his free arm and yelling, he disappeared around the corner of the building at a dead run.

“Oh, well, if you
insist
—” Navarro kissed her again while her attention was on the man and his stolen dog. It was brief and tasty and filled her with dread. Then he stepped aside, giving her an impatient look. “What are you waiting for? Get inside and out of the cold, Winston.”

As if she’d been the one hanging on to him, for God’s sake. Honey shook her head then strode across the sidewalk to enter the building without looking back.

Elevator to the twelfth floor, stairs to thirteen. She should’ve walked the entire thirteen flights to get rid of her simmering anger. The son of a bitch. Yes. He
was
good. Very, very good. But he had no business laying his lips—or any other body part for that matter—on
her
. None.

They were coworkers. She did not fraternize with coworkers. Damn it to hell, Honey thought furiously, she didn’t fraternize with
anyone
. And that was exactly how she liked it.

She was a professional, top of her game, the best of the best. Rafael Navarro better damn well remember
that
the next time he tried to kiss her.

Not that he’d had to
try,
damn it.

A plain, gray door with a MAINTENANCE AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY sign cut off her mental monologue. She’d made her position clear. Navarro wasn’t a fool. He’d tried and failed. He wouldn’t try again.

She scrutinized the door in front of her blankly for a moment. No optical scan? No fingerprint ID? Just a discreet buzzer and a grid. She buzzed, and when no one responded, she said, “Honey Winston. Seven. Zero. Zero. Zero. Eight. Nine. Five. Two.”

The door swung open soundlessly. Three inches of bullet-resistant steel. The grubby, innocuous-looking buzzer
was
the fingerprint scanner. Voice recognition added another layer of security.