The Seraphina Donavan Collection: Contemporary (6 page)

CHAPTER TWO

C
rossing the lobby of the hotel, he became acutely aware of the eyes of two of Mahoney
’
s goons on him. For the last week, they
’
d watched him like a hawk. He didn
’
t know if someone had tipped them off or if Mahoney was just that paranoid. Either way, it scared the hell out of him. Computers were his thing. The IT geeks weren
’
t supposed to get shot, or knee capped, or whatever the hell it was that the Mafioso thugs did in the modern era to narcs and rats.

World of Warcraft was as close as he got to violence in his daily life. Walking around with a gun strapped to his ankle, conveniently concealed by the bellbottoms of his jumpsuit, was not something he was used to. He hated his boss. Hated the smug bastard and his nasty ultimatums. Being undercover was not his job.

“You son of a bitch!”

The voice intruded more than the words. It took a second for them to register, not that he could blame her. Dread filled him and he sent up a silent prayer that he was wrong—he turned toward the sound of the expletive and spotted her immediately.

God, she looked good. No. Actually, she didn
’
t. She looked hot, tired, sweaty and mad as hell. Bearing down on her were her grandmother and her coo-coo for cocoa puffs aunt. She handed off the card keys, but kept her gaze glued to him as she strode across the lobby in his direction.

He moved forward as well, closing the distance between them until he met her halfway. Gripping her arms tighter than he should, the sense of danger, of urgency, was riding him hard. “Dixie, you can
’
t be here.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and shoved his hands away. “You don
’
t get to tell me where I can and cannot be. You don
’
t get to tell me anything, you asshole!”

Nick sighed.
“
I don’
t have time to explain everything right now. You can
’
t be here. It
’s dangerous.
”

“Why? Why is it dangerous?”

“Just get in your car and go, Dixie. Once things are back to normal, I
’
ll tell you everything. I swear!”

Apparently, his urgency penetrated the haze of anger and she stepped back from him. “What are you into, Nick?”

“It
’
s too much to go into...I
’
ll tell you everything later. I promise. Just get in your car and get the hell out of here.”

She blanched. “I can
’
t. Our car broke down. It
’
s been towed to a shop just south of here.”

Nick didn
’
t hesitate. He pulled his keys from his pocket and pressed them into her hand. “Take my car. Just go.”

“Mr. Jameson? The boss wants to see you...and your friend.”

Nick glanced over his shoulder to see one of Mahoney
’
s goons standing behind him, flanked by his larger silent partner. There was no way in hell to keep her out of it. It was already too late. His cover had been suspect from the beginning, but Mahoney
’
s paranoia over the last few days had gotten out of hand.

Turning toward them, he held up his hands. “Look, my psycho ex isn
’
t part of this...Let me send her on her way.”

The goon smiled, clearly not buying it. “Sorry, Elvis. Your Priscilla is coming along too.”

Nick cursed under his breath. There was no way out of it. A quick glance at Dixie
’
s face told him that things were going to get ugly really quickly. “Don
’
t do it,
” he urged, leaning to whisper in her ear. “Just play along for now.”

“Bastard,” she shot back.

“Trouble in Graceland?” the goon asked sarcastically. He placed his hands on his hips, the jacket he wore parting enough to reveal the butt of his pistol. “Let
’
s all play nice, huh?”

Nick gripped her arm, holding her tightly to his side as he followed Goon One to the elevator. Goon Two had fallen in step behind them. He wasn
’
t as bright as Goon One, but he was about six inches taller and looked like he bench pressed about a million pounds just for the fun of it. They were screwed. Royally screwed.

The ride up to the penthouse was tense and quiet, with Dixie alternately glaring daggers at him and the bodyguards. Goon One simply smirked at her. Goon Two kept his gaze trained on her breasts while he breathed through his mouth, audibly.

The elevator doors opened and two more goons were waiting, guarding the penthouse door.
Yep. Mahoney was losing it.
The feds had been closing in on him for a while and he was feeling it.

“Mr. Jameson, so good of you to join us...and your friend,” Mahoney said, never bothering to take the unlit cigar from his mouth. He just talked around it, uncaring of how ridiculously phallic it looked bobbing up and down in his mouth.

It would not help his cause to point that out, so Nick stayed quiet. “Mr. Mahoney, is there a problem?”

Mahoney shrugged his shoulders, still broad and impressively toned for a man his age, “Not that I
’
m aware of, Mr. Jameson. Unless there
’
s something you feel the need to tell me.”

Nick shook his head. “No, sir. I
’
m very happy to be employed at the Viva. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

Mahoney nodded. “You do a fair Elvis, son. Not up to par with those in Vegas or even in Memphis, but you do all right.”

He did better than all right. Quietly fuming, Nick accepted the backhand insult and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“But it appears you
’
ve got some lady troubles...I
’
m sure she
’
s a lovely young woman underneath all that dirt.”

Nick squeezed Dixie
’
s hand in warning. They couldn
’
t afford for her to go off halfcocked and say something that would result in both of them sinking to the bottom of the river.

She jerked her hand angrily from his grasp, crossing her arms over her already impressive bosom.

Goon Two
’
s eyes nearly popped right out of his skull.

“Dixie is my ex-girlfriend, and I owe her some money. Since they were passing through, she decided to stop and get it,” he lied. He could feel Dixie
’
s eyes boring holes into him.

“He
’
s a deadbeat. Can
’
t trust him as far as you can throw him,” she inserted. “I learned that the hard way.”

Nick grimaced, his jaw clenching and his lips drawing into a thin line. Yes, technically, she was playing along, but did she have to get that into the part? “I told you I
’
d get it to you when I could.”

“You also told me you
’
d pick me up at eight, and then I never heard from you again,” she fired back.

Mahoney cleared his throat. “If you two are done squabbling, I
’
d like to say something.”

“My apologies, Mr. Mahoney,” Nick said, shooting another warning look at Dixie.

“
Well, Mr. Jameson, I don
’
t trust you, either. I don
’
t actually care who you
’
re sleeping with as long as it isn
’
t the feds, but I have my doubts. An associate of mine from Biloxi, Mr. Danova, has run into a bit of trouble lately. Where was it that he got into trouble, Eric?”

“Gresham County, Mr. Mahoney,” Goon One replied smoothly.

Mahoney nodded. “That
’
s right. Little podunk place, but apparently, they have some sharp citizens who caught on to some things that have complicated my life significantly.”

“I
’
ve never been to or heard of Grissom County,” Nick said.

“Gresham,” Mahoney corrected.

“Right, Gresham. Never heard of it. Don
’
t know anyone there,” Nick replied, keeping his tone even but firm.

“Well, be that as it may, I
’
m keeping an eye on you, Mr. Jameson...and now I
’
ll be keeping one on your girlfriend, as well. She
’
ll be staying with you in your suite, I assume?”

Yes
. He wasn
’
t letting her out of his sight, but he knew better than to let Mahoney know that was just what he wanted. “
I don’
t think that
’
s a good idea, Mr. Mahoney. We can
’
t even have a conversation without screaming at one another.”

“It wasn
’
t a suggestion, Mr. Jameson. It was more of an order. I don
’
t trust you. Ergo, I don
’
t trust her. I want to know where she is in my hotel at all times. Understood?”

Nick didn
’
t answer. It wasn
’
t required anyway.

Goon One grabbed is arm and Dixie
’
s and led them to the elevator. The doors opened instantly and they were shoved inside none too gently, but at least they were sort of alone.

Before Dixie could say anything, Nick jumped in. “You didn
’
t have to come here. I was going to send you the damn money!”

When Dixie picked up his cue, he could have kissed her. But the fact that she was so damn smart was one of the things he
’
d always liked about her—and her boobs. Her boobs were amazing. Her butt was pretty impressive too. And all the parts in between were equally spectacular. In fact, she was pretty amazing from the top of her head all the way down to her perfectly pedicured toes.

“Wouldn
’
t be the first time you lied about something,” she shot back.

He could see that a lot of the heat had left her gaze. Unfortunately, it’d been replaced by fear. “Don
’
t be like that baby. I just ran into some bad luck is all.”

“So did I...The day I met you.”

Nick winced, but he didn
’
t bother to deny it. “
Look, let
’
s just not fight, okay? You
’
re tired. I know you hate being dirty. We
’
ll get you a shower and some dinner and try to be civil to one another.”

“Fine,” she agreed.

CHAPTER THREE

D
ixie allowed Nick to usher her into his suite, wondering what the hell kind of hotel put its entertainers up in such posh accommodations. Thinking of Mahoney and his too tight face and pencil thin mustache, she shuddered. With his cold, beady eyes, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine him having them both just disappear.

As if he’d read her mind, an annoying habit that he hadn’t kicked to the curb nearly as easily as he’d dropped her, Nick explained, “Since Mr. Mahoney is unsure whether or not I’m on the level, he decided I should remain a guest here at the hotel. Rather than go back to my own apartment which might or might not be bugged.”

Which meant that the room probably was.

“How about some music?” he asked. “The more we talk the more we fight.”

Definitely bugged, still she couldn’t resist another chance to take a dig at him. “Anything beats having to listen to you.”

His raised eyebrow was his only response as he placed his phone on the docking station beside the TV. The bluesy rock that had been one of their many common interests filled the room. Looking around, she noted that it was a really nice suite. Luxe, even. “Seems like the hotel is treating you pretty good. This is a hell of a lot nicer than your last place.”

He shrugged, removing the ornate aviator glasses and the scarf draped around his neck.

Watching the play of muscle, covered by black leather, was distracting. Turning, she moved toward the window and gazed out. It overlooked the pool area.

“It’s comped. Mr. Mahoney felt that, as the headlining act, I should be more accessible to fans and guests.”

Meaning, she interpreted, that Mahoney had wanted to keep an eye on him. Whatever was going on, they were paddling up shit creek in a sinking boat. She felt him move behind her, coming to stand close enough so she could feel the heat of his body. He reached up, and her gaze followed the movement of his hand. Where he grasped the curtain, there was a thin cable concealed in the folds of the fabric. She shuddered.

“The shower is a little tricky,” he offered. “I’ll show you.”

Dixie followed him into the bathroom and watched as he fiddled with the taps. Memories washed over her of the small shower in his tiny apartment, of soap slicked skin and intense heat.

When the water was going full blast, he turned to her. “Speak softly,” he whispered.

“What the hell have you gotten into?”

He sighed. “You know that office I work in?” At her nod, he continued, “It’s an FBI field office. We don’t advertise it. The less people who know the better.”

“You’re an IT guy,” she said.

“I’m also the only person they could get who can sing, play guitar and has the ‘look
,
” he said. “I wanted to tell you, Dixie, but it happened so fast. I didn’t even get to go back to my apartment. They dropped this bomb on me in the office and that night I was driving here.”

Oh, she wanted to believe it. It was impossibly farfetched, but so far, she hadn’t seen anything that made it seem like he wasn’t telling the truth. Mahoney. The listening devices in the hotel room. The fact that he was dressed like Elvis, for the love of Pete! “So, what happens now?”

“You’re stuck with me. We can keep up the pretense of me being your dead beat ex.”

“That’s not a pretense… the ex part anyway,” she said.

He shoved his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “I know you’re mad. You have every right to be, but as happy as I am to have a chance to explain things to you—Dixie, I wish you weren’t here. It’s dangerous.”

“Nana and Frankie are here,” she said, worry eating through her anger. “Are they safe?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Mahoney is so damn paranoid, that since I got here, he’s been watching me like a hawk. I’ve got some stuff but not much, and I have no way of getting it to my handlers.”

“So, what do you need to find on him?” If they could get the evidence and get out, then she wouldn’t have to look at him and she could get Irma and Frankie to safety.

“These are some bad guys, Dixie. Bad, in ways you can’t imagine. You don’t need to do anything but lay low until I can figure out how the hell to get you out of here.”

“Get out. I need a shower and I need to figure out what the hell to do about my grandmother and my aunt.” She also needed to not look at him. Those blue eyes and the dark hair, with the little bit of stubble that made him so damn sexy, not to mention his full lower lip and the fact that all she could think about was how she’d bite his lip while kissing him and his fingers would dig into her hips. Yeah. He needed to go. And she needed to get her head together.

~*~*~

Nick got the anger. He really did. Things had been going so good between them. Dating had always been hard for him. He couldn’t talk about his work, and most of the time he just felt awkward talking about himself anyway. But with Dixie it had been different. From the moment he’d met her, he’d known she was the one. Then he’d walked away. No phone call, no word. He’d left her sitting at home waiting for him to show up.

Looking at her, with her cheeks flushed and a worried frown creating that tiny little furrow between her brows, it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with her. It wasn’t something he’d let himself think about before. They’d only been dating for a few weeks and he shied away from it, not wanting to spook himself or her.

So, he’d played it cool. So cool that when he’d disappeared she just assumed he’d been playing her. It was probably a bad idea. Hell, he knew it was. But he wanted to show her it hadn’t been some kind of game, that everything that had passed between them was real.

Sliding his hands into her dark hair, he watched her eyes go wide for a second, then her lips parted. It might have been surprise or she might have been on the verge of calling him a bastard again. He didn’t give her the chance. Tugging her close, he slanted his mouth over hers, her soft lips crushed beneath his.

The burn was instant. The familiar taste, the softness of her body against him, it set him on fire. Tracing the curve of her lower lip with his tongue, he felt her breath shuddering against his lips. Unable to resist, he slipped his tongue past her lips, into the warm recesses of her mouth. A small sound escaped her, part whimper and part moan. Then she did that thing. Her teeth scraped over his bottom lip and all the blood in his body rushed straight to his dick.

It was the most natural thing in the world to back her against the wall, to pin her there with his body and let her feel just what she was doing to him. When she arched against him, lifting one leg and draping it over his hip, he immediately stepped closer, pressing against her. He cursed the clothes between them. He wanted to be inside her, to feel the damp heat of her flesh clutching at him. Dragging his hands from the rich, dark strands of her hair, he tugged at her shirt, buttons popping and skittering over the marble floor.

She exhaled sharply, the movement lifting her breasts against his chest. Trailing his hands down her arms, he grasped her wrists, lifting her hands above her head, pinning them to the wall. Clasping them in one hand, he freed his other hand to touch her, to savor the softness of her skin.

Never breaking the kiss, his tongue gliding sensually against hers, he cupped her breast, his thumb coasting over a hardened nipple. It was always like that between them. From the moment they’d met, they’d been like horny teenagers falling all over one another. Their first good night kiss had turned into a make out session in the front seat of his car. Their second had them dry humping against the stairwell of her apartment building. By the third date, he’d been in misery and when he’d shown up at her apartment and she’d greeted him in nothing but a silk robe, he’d been lost.

Two and a half weeks since he’d seen her, since he’d touched her. A week since he’d accepted the fact that he probably would never see her again, because even if he managed to survive his assignment, she would never speak to him again. Now, she was pressed against him, one long leg wrapped around his waist while she moaned into his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, he gasped for breath, but only for a second. Then he was kissing her neck, scraping his teeth over the tender skin there in the way that always drove her wild. He didn’t want to give her enough time to think about what was happening. It was shitty and underhanded, but he felt desperate, and they were probably going to die anyway.

“Nick!”

Typically, Dixie was not the name calling type. Moaning, yes. Oh, god, yes. She said that. She said that a lot when things were going really well, but she didn’t say his name. Which told him, that he’d lost her.

“Nick, stop!”

He sighed, heavily. Frustrated. Painfully aroused and wanting more than anything to just put her in his car, drive back to Biloxi and tell his boss to shove it all up his ass. He was not a field operative. He was a computer nerd with a little bit of musical talent and, at the moment, a raging erection in leather pants that were too damned tight to begin with. “Dixie, please,” he whispered. “Just for tonight, let’s pretend like nothing is wrong.”

She twisted her wrists in his grasp and he let her go. Both of her feet were now firmly on the floor and she placed her hands against his chest and pushed him back. “I can’t do that. But you lied to me…IT guys don’t go undercover,” she whispered. “And Mahoney, Mr. Plastic Surgery, he’s scary, Nick. I can’t just ignore the fact that he could make us disappear.”

“Isn’t that precisely why we should seize the moment? We might not got another chance.” It was an old line, a bad one. From the firming of her lips, he knew it. That hand had been overplayed like a drunk at a blackjack table. Reluctantly, he stepped back, wincing as his pants reminded him that Mahoney wasn’t the only source of danger.

“Out,” she said. “I can’t let you mess with my head like this. I need to think and you make that too damned hard.”

“Don’t even talk to me about things being hard,” he shot back through clenched teeth.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation. “Perpetual twelve year old!”

Moving carefully, he exited the bathroom. He couldn’t hear her moving around over the spray of the shower, but it wasn’t hard to picture. The image of her naked, wet, soap slicking her gorgeous skin—it was burned into his mind forever. Pants, he thought. The pants had to go or he’d be maimed for life.

Lowering the zipper, he began to peel the leather off his skin. Immediately, his body temperature dropped several degrees. Tugging the leather down over his hips, he was still painfully aroused. Stripped to his boxers, he mentally ticked off the rules of HTML code, anything to get his mind off her and to get his blood flowing in another direction.

He’d finally gotten himself under control when he heard a knock at the door. Glancing through the peephole, he saw Goon Number Two. The guy had a name, but damned if he knew what it was. Opening the door cautiously, he said, “What now?”

The goon didn’t answer, just thrust a leopard print suitcase at him. Recognizing that it must be Dixie’s, he took it. “The old ladies are down the hall,” the goon said. “Upgraded by Mr. Mahoney.”

“Thanks.”

The goon grunted, then turned and walked away.

Well, Dixie would be happy at least, he thought. She could check in on Irma and Frankie and make sure they were okay. Though, Frankie was truly never okay. Shaking his head, he brought the suitcase in and set it down outside the bathroom door. “Lurch brought your luggage up,” he called.

“Thank you,” she called back, sounding flustered and breathless.

And back to square one.
She probably wasn’t breathless for the very dirty reasons he was imagining. Regardless, he went and sat down on the bed, willing his body not to respond. Sleeping in a bed next to her, not being able to touch her, it would be torture. He was half wishing Mahoney would just kill him and end his misery.

The bathroom door opened and Dixie emerged wearing the hotel’s plush bathrobe. Fluffy, white terry cloth should not be sexy. Rising to his feet, he said, “I’m taking a shower.”

“I think I used all the hot water,” she protested.

As he pushed open the door to escape into the smaller room, he added, “Wasn’t planning on using any of it anyway.” Closing the door behind him, he banged his head against it a few times just for good measure. Maybe he could concuss himself enough to short out his libido. It was going to be a long night.