Most Eligible Spy (15 page)

She ate, but without true appreciation. Were her eyes glistening?

Looked as if all the stress was really getting to her. He felt guilty as hell. She’d lost her brother, her only support, had some financial issues at the ranch, was accused of being involved in smuggling and had been interrogated. And then he’d taken her to that damn cabin.

Which might not have been the best decision he’d ever made. She clearly needed something to hang on to, and some false ideal of Dylan had been it. Now that he’d taken that away from her, she had nothing.

He was wired differently. He needed the truth. He would take any truth, no matter how harsh, and then he could deal with it. He liked to know where he stood. He didn’t believe in clinging to fantasies.

“You’re a strong woman. You will work through this,” he told her, reaching for her hand across the table.

She pulled away. “I’m not strong. Not like you are,” she said miserably.

“You might not be jumping in front of bullets on a daily basis, but what you do day after day, running the ranch, raising your son, takes strength.”

The sight of a tear rolling down her face twisted his gut.

“Hey.” He reached across the table again and brushed away the tear with his thumb.

She pushed her seat back so fast she nearly knocked it over. “Better get started on the dishes.”

He stood. “I’ll do that.”

But she was already standing by the sink.

“How about you wash, I dry,” he said, offering a compromise. She accepted.

They worked in silence for a while, their movements strangely harmonized as if they’d done this often. She looked at him a couple of times, as if on the verge of saying something, but each time she changed her mind and turned away.

“How about some TV?” he suggested when they were done. She looked as if she could use some distraction.

She looked toward her bedroom, then nodded. “Sure.”

He flipped through the channels, found a sappy romantic comedy. Supposedly women liked that kind of thing. He tried to think what else he could do to cheer her up. Flowers. Women usually found flowers comforting. He glanced around the apartment. She’d brought him some sort of potted herb. The pot stood behind them on the sofa table. He put his arm over the back of the sofa as unobtrusively as he could and pushed the plant closer to her.

She looked up at him, a moment of confusion on her face.

Right. Because it looked as if he had his arm up there to kind of drop it over her shoulders. As if he was making a move.

He acted as though he was just stretching, then pulled back and stared straight ahead at the TV, where a pair of rambunctious dogs were wrapping their owners together with their leashes.

Max padded in, barked at the screen, then, after Molly patted him, he went back out to the kitchen. He liked lying on the tile floor. It was probably colder.

The movie went on. Minutes ticked by.

She looked straight ahead, but he wasn’t sure she was really watching. Her shoulders were still tight, the look on her face still unhappy.

He hated that he couldn’t help her, watched the movie without registering much of it, thinking mostly about Molly beside him. Truth was, he wanted to pull her into his arms and distract her from her troubles in the most ancient way. By making love to her.

He wasn’t proud of himself for the thought. What kind of man would use a woman’s temporary distress to seduce her?

In the movie, the heroine was going through her troubles alone, consoling herself with copious amounts of ice cream. He wished he had some of that in the freezer. Or chocolate. He tried to think what he had in his half-empty cabinets. Then cheered up a little when he thought of something.

“How about some beef jerky?”

She drew her eyebrows together. “Are you hungry? We just ate.”

“I meant for...” He almost said
female upset
but finished lamely with “dessert.”

A dubious look flashed across her face. “We have cookies,” she reminded him. “Maybe later. But thank you,” she said politely, then went back to watching the movie.

He tried to think of something that might work to relax her. Maybe a bubble bath. Women liked that, didn’t they?

The image of her naked in his tub resulted in a predictable response from his body. He shifted in his seat. But his condition only worsened when the star-crossed couple on the screen finally made up and had their hot-and-heavy love scene.

Molly didn’t seem to enjoy it. Her eyes glistened, in fact, almost as if she were close to tears. Definitely not the same response that the scene was getting from him.

Women were complicated.

Men were simple. They saw a woman they liked, they wanted sex. They watched sex, they wanted sex.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye again.

She was beautiful and strong—no matter what she thought—and a great mother, honest, hardworking, sexy. He was mostly focused on the sexy part at the moment. Every cell of his body wanted her.

He couldn’t take any more of the writhing bodies and throaty moaning on the TV. He got to his feet and retreated to the kitchen. He needed something cold. “Want a drink?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He stood in front of the open fridge door for a while, letting the frigid air hit him, then grabbed the sweet-tea pitcher, poured two glasses and added ice. He also turned up the air-conditioning while he was walking by the thermostat.

She stood as she took the glass from him. “I think I’ll go to bed early if you don’t mind. I’m a little tired today.”

Upset, she meant. He wished she would confide in him. She tried so damned hard to be strong. Too hard.

He set his glass on the sofa table and slowly pulled her into his arms. “What is it?”

“Just having a rough day.” She put the glass down.

“I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“Mo...” She hesitated. “I should...”

“What?” He held her loosely, not wanting to scare her, not wanting to seem too pushy.

“Logan and I should probably move back home tomorrow.”

Not what he wanted to hear. “Not yet. I like it when you’re here,” he admitted.

And that softened her face a little.

He reached up to brush the hair back from her eyes. Then rested his lips against her forehead, just savoring the feel of her in his arms. He wanted to keep her there forever, keep her safe from her troubles. “You know if there’s anything I can help you with, I would, right? Whatever it is.”

* * *

S
HE
WAS
SO
TEMPTED
to tell him. But Kenny had said if she told anyone, her son would die. And that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

If she told Mo, he would tell his team. His team would set up some kind of op. Her only experience with those was what she’d seen on TV shows. There’d be a shoot-out, probably.

There had been a shoot-out the night Dylan had died.

Her heart constricted.

She could deal with Kenny. Kenny wanted the drugs. She wanted Logan back. It would be a simple exchange. No fancy team of outsiders needed. The more people involved, the better chance that something could go wrong, someone could make a mistake.

She trusted Mo. She really did. To a point. She wanted to trust him all the way, but when her son was involved...she just couldn’t make that final leap.

So she let him comfort her and kept quiet.

She leaned against him and soaked up his calm, self-assured energy. His steady heartbeat against her palm felt incredibly reassuring. He was a solid wall of strength.

“If you were in any kind of trouble, you would tell me, right?”

She nodded, unable to say the lie out loud.

He gathered her closer. Kissed her eyebrow.

She let him. Because when Mo found out that she had lied to him, that she helped Kenny, he would hate her.

The thought broke her heart. Because she’d been falling for him.

Starting tomorrow, she would be the enemy again, an accomplice in smuggling, for real this time. Back in the interrogation room without a doubt. But Logan would be safe from Kenny. Even if she got arrested, Grace would take care of her son. Logan would be safe. And that was worth whatever sacrifice Molly had to make.

So she said goodbye to Mo, silently, as he lowered his head and gently kissed her lips.

So unfair.
They could have had something, she realized too late. He was different from all the other men she’d met. Images of what could have been flashed across her mind and took her breath away. Except, tomorrow he would hate her.

But she could have something, a little, tonight, a small voice said in her head. So she leaned into the kiss.

A low rumble sounded in his throat, a primal sound of passion that sent heat through her. He lifted her into his arms and headed straight to his bedroom with her. She didn’t protest, just let him keep on kissing her.

He lay her on top of the covers as softly as if he thought she might break. Then he pulled his shirt over his head.

She sucked in a breath.

He was incredibly built. Action-movie stars had to paint on muscles to look like him. While he was fairly large, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body, reminding her that she had curves sticking out every which way that she wished were much smaller.

She was a farm girl and she ate farm food, not designer protein shakes.

He stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m rethinking some of those pancake breakfasts.”

“Don’t,” he said with a slow grin. “I’m pretty much crazy about your body.”

That was news to her. “You are?”

He gave a strangled laugh as he lowered himself onto the giant bed next to her. “I can barely think every time I look at you. I wanted you while I was interrogating you.” He covered his face with a hand as he lay on his back next to her. “How professional is that?”

Maybe not professional, but it was incredibly flattering.

“You never said anything.”

He turned to his side and came up on one elbow. “You’re a good woman. A mother. That needs to be respected.”

A man who wanted her
and
respected her. And she was going to lose him tomorrow. She looked at the wall across from the bed and considered getting up to bang her head against it.

Instead, she reached up and pulled him down, fitting her mouth against his with a boldness she didn’t know she possessed.

That was all the hint he needed.

He kissed her gently at first, tasting her lips. Then she opened for him and he accepted the invitation with enthusiasm. Hot need flooded her in an instant, pleasure surging through her.

The way he kissed her...almost reverently, but with so much heat and restrained passion. The sensations spreading through her made her head spin.

She was nearing thirty and she’d never truly been kissed. Not like this. The realization stunned her. And even scared her a little. Because she knew she was never again going to meet anyone like Mo.

She lifted her hands to his bare chest, her fingers gliding over the smooth skin that covered all those muscles.

His hand ran down her arm and up her belly, tugging her shirt upward. She wanted to feel his fingers on her bare skin. And then she did. His large hand covered half her abdomen, his heat burning through her skin. He caressed her gently, moving up inch by slow inch, stopping just under her breast.

Then his hand cupped her at last, and she arched into his touch. When he pulled his hand back, she almost protested before she realized he only pulled back to undo her shirt buttons so he could bare her to his gaze.

“I wish I knew just what to say,” he said in a raspy whisper. “But you take my breath away.”

Which was exactly the right thing to say.

Her shirt opened at last. She wished she owned something fancier than her simple white cotton bra. But he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed mesmerized by it.

She lifted away from the bed a little so he could remove the shirt, then held herself still while he fumbled with her bra clasp in the back.

“Not too good at this. Fingers too big,” he said apologetically.

But she loved that he wasn’t some skilled seducer, loved it that he wanted her so much it made his fingers tremble. He was Mo, exactly the man she wanted, needed.

Then she was naked to the waist and his eyes narrowed. Her nipples pebbled under his burning gaze. His head moved toward them as if drawn by a string.

The first touch of his lips against her hard nipple sent a hot flash of desire slicing through her. When he laved that nipple, heat pooled at the V of her thighs. Suddenly, she wanted things she didn’t even know existed until now.

He was a steady man, one who liked to think things through, pay close attention to every step of the process. He brought those same skills to his lovemaking, leaving not a square inch of skin untouched, unkissed, driving her out of her mind with need.

She wished she’d met him before, not when everything was falling apart. She wished Dylan hadn’t done what he’d done. She wished her life wasn’t this complicated, that they could hold on to what they had here, that she didn’t have to lie to him.

Then she pushed those thoughts away. If they were given only this night, she wasn’t going to borrow trouble from tomorrow and poison what little time they had together.

Chapter Eleven

She was perfect. And for this moment, she was his.

What she made him feel...

He was old enough to know this kind of thing didn’t come around all the time. Never before for him, in fact. And now that he had it, he didn’t want to let her go. The only solution was to make her his forever. Starting right now, right here.

“A man could get used to this.” Her soft skin felt like silk under his fingertips. She had enough curves to fill even his large hands, making him senseless with want. She fitted to him perfectly, as if she had been made for him.

She was passionate, responding to his every touch, arching her back, her eyes fluttering closed when he kissed her, then flying wide open when he touched her in her most intimate places. He reveled in that responsiveness, in the fact that he could make her feel that way.

He grinned at her. “You’re good for me, you know that?”

For a second, her eyes cleared and something he couldn’t identify flashed across them. Then she pulled his head down and kissed him silly again.

He had condoms in the nightstand drawer this time. He’d learned his lesson from the other day. He hadn’t expected this to happen, but he’d been hoping.

He removed the rest of his clothing, and for a moment they lay against each other, skin to skin. If that moment lasted a year, it wouldn’t have been enough.

Then she parted her legs and drew her knee up over his hip, and the moment gained a sense of urgency.

He reached back, tore open a foil wrapper and sheathed himself then rolled her under him. “What have I done to deserve this?”

She tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

He moved to her opening, waited, for a moment finding it hard to believe this was happening, that she was giving herself to him like this. Then she lifted herself, welcoming him inside her body.

His eyes about rolled back in his head from the sharp pleasure. She was tight and wet for him. Moving.

Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Molly.” Her name came out in a strangled whisper.

And then he pushed, inch by slow inch, until he filled her to the hilt.

He could run twenty miles in full battle gear, but he was breathing hard now from that last little push. His heart beat against his ribs. He drew back, pushed in again, the friction increasing, his world spiraling out of control pretty damned rapidly.

He supported himself on his elbows as he dipped his head to kiss her, claiming those glorious lips again and again, their bodies rocking against each other, heat and pleasure building.

Then her body went taut and she gave a small cry, and the next thing he knew her muscles were contracting around him, pulsating, squeezing, sending him over the edge.

She blew his mind just absolutely, completely. When they lay side by side later, panting, all he could think was that he wanted to do this again as soon as possible.

He almost told her that, but somehow he wasn’t sure if it would be romantic or just plain selfish, so he said nothing.

* * *

H
ER
BONES
MELTED
. She’d never known sex could be like this. Wow. “Did that just happen?”

“And then some.” He chuckled, sounding sated.

She’d always thought romantic movies and romance novels exaggerated. They had a product to sell, right?

But no. What they’d shared here, in Mo’s bedroom, was all that and more, way beyond her wildest fantasies. He was a great guy. Her son liked him and looked up to him. And sex with him was out-of-this-world phenomenal.

And this was the end. She pressed closer.

Tomorrow he would hate her for lying to him.

The thought about killed her.

He drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

His gentleness brought tears to her eyes. She hated lying to him. She had to press her lips together so the truth about Logan wouldn’t burst out. So she stayed quiet and stayed close to him, soaking up the feeling while she could.

When he finally slept, she pulled away so she wouldn’t disturb him with her tossing and turning and worrying about her son. She tried to remember the few times she’d been out to the mines. Could she find the right place?

Her grandfather had taken her out a few times, on horseback, to talk about the family’s glory days. His grandfather and grand uncle had come to the area as poor miners. Between the two of them, they somehow scrimped together enough to buy partial stake in a small mine, eventually. They were successful for a while. Then they found out that the deposits weren’t nearly as vast as advertised. They lost most of their money, bought land with what they had left and started ranching.

She thought about those old mine shafts, getting Logan back, losing Mo.

She passed out from sheer exhaustion toward dawn, but woke again a little while later. She slipped from the bed at first light, grabbed her clothes and dressed in the bathroom. She shut down all emotion, left a note for Mo on the kitchen counter, then sneaked away.

Couldn’t sleep. Went out to the ranch. I’ll ask Grace to come over with me.

* * *

M
O
READ
THE
NOTE
over for the second time.

Grace Cordero, an army vet, was definitely good enough for bodyguard duty. But he would have liked to spend the morning with Molly.

Did she have second thoughts about what had happened last night? He hoped not. He’d liked every minute and wanted more. And not just the sex. He wanted more of her. All of her.

But it seemed she wanted space.

Okay. Fine. Whatever she needed. He was in this for the long haul. So he drank his coffee, got dressed and went into the office.

* * *

S
HE
DIDN
’
T
CALL
G
RACE
.
She didn’t want anyone else involved in her lies. She didn’t need a bodyguard. She knew now who sent the men who’d searched her ranch: Kenny. And he was waiting for word from her on the whereabouts of the drugs. She took care of her animals in record time. They seemed agitated.

The horizon was a threatening shade of purplish-gray when she came out of the barn with her milk pails. Looked as if a storm was coming, she thought as she finished up.

A bad storm could wipe out half her gardens. She couldn’t worry about that now. She only cared about Logan today and his well-being. “I’m coming, baby,” she muttered under her breath, trying not to let desperation get the better of her.

She hurried to her pickup and rode out on the dirt road that wound its way through the fields.

She knew the mine openings were to the east of the house. She sort of knew where they were in relation to each other. Once she found one, she was pretty sure she could find the rest.

Heat shimmered over the land, the vegetation dry, dust blowing from the bare patches. A dust devil rose up on the road right in front of her. She drove around it and scanned the land, followed her memories and, after some false starts, found the first opening.

She pulled up next to the pile of rocks that had some old two-by-fours and rebar sticking out. Rubble covered the ground, some scraggly weeds growing in the dirt the winds had deposited between the rocks over the years. Didn’t look as if anybody had been here since the shaft had been blown in.

At least she was in the general area. “Hang in there, Logan,” she whispered into the wind. “I’m coming.”

She drove around in expanding circles, looking for another entry. She found one half an hour later, looking the same as the first. Then another one that obviously hadn’t been disturbed in ages, either. Doubt began to fill her, cold panic spreading through her limbs.

The mines
had
to be the answer. This had to be it, because she had no other ideas, and her son’s life depended on her locating the stupid drugs Kenny wanted.

She had trouble finding the next shaft, maybe because she was becoming more and more frazzled. She was praying out loud as she drove and almost missed the spot. The opening was covered with dry brush. She only recognized the place because of the car-size rocks by a nearby mesquite grove. She recalled trips with her grandfather, sitting on those rocks in the shade and drinking water out of his canteen, eating homemade beef jerky.

The dry brush, carried here from someplace else, gave her hope. It certainly looked as if someone had tried to camouflage the spot.

She jumped out of her pickup and began dragging those dead bushes away. Under the brush, a faded brown tarp covered a rusty set of metal doors, the kind people used for outside basement entries. She zeroed in on the padlock. New.

Every instinct she had screamed that this was it.

A small voice inside said it wasn’t too late to call Mo. She almost did. But no, she shoved her cell phone back into her pocket.

She was so close. She could do it. Her son’s safety was the most important thing here, and if Kenny thought she brought anyone in, who knew what he would do. She would have never thought he could hurt a kid, but then again, she would have never thought he could be involved in smuggling, either.

She kicked the padlock in frustration. A lock cutter would have been nice. She didn’t have that, but she did have a tire iron in the back of the pickup. So she ran to get that and used it to bust the lock, grunting and sweating in the heat, but refusing to give up until the metal gave.

Then she threw open the rusty doors and looked into the darkness. A makeshift wooden ramp led down, a flashlight conveniently sitting on the top step. She left it there. She had no idea how good the battery was. She had a newly charged flashlight in her glove compartment and she went to get that.

She turned on the flashlight then followed the ramp.

Fist-size spiders hung on the walls and above her head. She could hear something scurrying up ahead, then nearly stepped on a rattlesnake.

“Easy. I’m not here to hurt you.” She backed around it carefully, grateful that it had sounded its rattle to warn her.

She wiped her forehead with her free hand, moving forward even more carefully, especially when she remembered how fond Dylan had been of booby traps. She felt as if she was in an Indiana Jones movie, half expected poisoned darts to shoot out of the walls, or the ceiling to start pressing down on her. She really hated dark, ominous places.

She moved forward anyway. She found no traps, just discarded beer cans here and there. Budweiser. Her brother’s favorite. Disappointment choked her.

“Dammit, Dylan.” She kicked a can that bounced far ahead, the sound echoing off the walls. She followed after it.

She only had to go in a few hundred feet before she saw the two crates, the wood slats new, unlike the blackened supports of the old mine shaft. These crates had been a recent addition to the place, and she knew what they held without having to pry one open. She’d let Kenny do that.

She walked back out of the mine shaft so she could get reception for her phone, then called him, giving him directions on how to find her.

“I knew you could do this, darling. You just stay where you are, now. I’m bringing the boy,” he promised.

* * *

M
O
SPENT
HIS
MORNING
on the border, but when he had to head into Hullett to check on something and had to drive close by the Rogers ranch on his way into town, he decided to stop in. He was willing to give Molly the space she needed to think, but he wanted to make sure she was okay.

Her pickup wasn’t in the driveway, but he got out and checked around the buildings anyway. The chickens were out, all the animals fed and watered. She’d gotten an early start and had probably finished early. Made sense. She was most likely back in Hullett by now.

He drove into town and decided to swing by his place, but only the dogs greeted him.

“Hey, are you here?” He walked through the empty living room and kitchen, back to her room. Knocked on her door. “Are you in there?”

No answer.

He knocked again then pushed the door in. Her room stood empty. Maybe she’d gone to pick up Logan from his sleepover. He grabbed a cookie and a cold drink then headed over to the sheriff’s office.

Ryder called just as Mo pulled out of the underground parking garage. “Hey, I caught up with the informant we have on the other side of the border.”

“Yeah?” he asked absentmindedly, weaving through traffic, thinking about Molly.

“He says the Pebble Creek sheriff is over there a lot. He likes cockfights.”

That had Mo sitting up and paying attention. “If he has a gambling problem—if some criminal has him in his debt—”

“They might be able to call in some favors,” Ryder finished for him. “At the very least, get him to turn a blind eye.”

Mo rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like the guy. I can see him being up to no good. He’s shifty.”

“Maybe. Don’t go convicting the sheriff yet just because the man is sweet on Molly Rogers.”

Mo coughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the jealous type.”

“Sure. That’s why your head turned blue the other day when Keith told you the sheriff’s car was in her driveway.”

He didn’t want to go there. But talking about Molly...He hesitated for a second before he asked, “Have you seen Grace today yet?”

“Sure.”

“She didn’t mention anything about Molly being upset this morning, did she?”

“Why would Molly Rogers be upset?”

He didn’t want to go there, either. “Just thought, you know, since Grace helped her at the ranch this morning, she might have mentioned something to you.”

“Grace didn’t go to the Rogers ranch this morning.”

“Early. Maybe before you stopped by her place. Around six.”

A moment of silence passed. “Grace was with me at six. And before six, too.”

Meaning that he’d spent the night with Grace. Unease skittered down Mo’s spine.

“Is something wrong?” Ryder asked.

“I don’t think so. Just got our wires crossed, probably.”