Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,28

her to a stop and then sidled out.

An instant later, he returned. “We’re headed for the Bedroom Furniture Emporium at the far end, across the way. We’ll move independently, in stages. I’ll watch your back, you watch mine. Stay low and close to the wall.”

Relief trickled through her. He was back to normal. When his composure had fractured, she’d wondered if he would recover. Or if shock and pain would send him hurtling into a suicide mission. His evaluation report again appeared in her mind’s eye. Maintains emotional control. Con’s CO knew him better than she did. However, she was learning more by the second. And the more she discovered about Con’s true character, the more she admired him. The more she trusted him. The more she loved him. The more bewildered she felt. After tonight’s events, would she still be able to walk away from him? Did she want to?

“Go!” His whisper mobilized her, and she crept into the oppressive silence. Confusion churned inside her as quickly and quietly, they took turns scuttling toward their goal. She hurried past the import store. The security gate had lowered all the way down there and at Harry’s Cigars next door. More had randomly lowered at this end of the mall.

Bedroom Furniture Emporium was open, and she ducked inside, followed by Con.

Darkness shrouded the store. She studied the spooky space, filled with towering silhouettes. Odd how everyday objects like dressers and beds looked menacing in the dark. Amber security lights broke the gloom toward the back, by the sales counter.

Con nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Lots of heavy cover.”

They rearranged the sturdy furniture until a maze of barricades led to the mall opening. That way, they wouldn’t get trapped inside. Con then taught her basic hand signals so they could communicate across distances or without speaking. He showed the same qualities as a teacher she suspected he would exhibit as a lover—focused, patient and extremely thorough.

Though he didn’t say so, she realized he was also equipping her to communicate with the SWAT team in case something happened to him. At the thought of him hurt, or worse, a giant fist squeezed her heart. She shoved the horrible image aside. Focus on the task at hand.

Every instinct screamed to hurry. Get the SWAT team on site fast. “How much time do we have? Shouldn’t we go upstairs?”

He rolled his wrist to consult his watch. “We’re okay. Breaching the vault door is gonna take a while.”

“How many white sheets do you want?” Tamping down her apprehension, she headed for the shelves on the back wall. Con had experience and training. He wouldn’t put the hostages in danger.

He carried their knapsacks to the open floor space in the rear of the store. “Two should do it.”

Amongst the rainbow of patterns and colors, plain white cotton was as rare as a missionary in a brothel. But she finally located some. She ripped open packages, unfolded the linens and shook them out, then knelt on the oak parquet floor beside Con.

He extracted the markers and passed her a red one. “Glad you picked these up. Make the letters and numbers as big as possible.”

He outlined his sign with a black marker. She knelt and logged the bedding’s cost in her notebook. That done, she wrote 10-23, code 2 on her bedsheet, and then began to fill in the spaces.

His warm butterscotch voice broke her concentration. “What kind of sheets do you have on your bed, darlin’?”

Startled, she glanced up and met his speculative gaze. He’d never been in her bedroom, nor she in his. She wanted commitment before investing her body, heart and soul in a physical relationship. He’d respected her wishes and hadn’t pushed. Resisting temptation hadn’t been easy, however. Their sexual appetites were well matched, each ravenous for the other.

“Mauve satin with cream lace.” A bewitching picture shimmered into her mind. Con, naked in her bed, his hard-muscled body tantalizingly draped in satin sheets. Warmth tingled over her skin.

A slow, lazy smile slid over his mouth, and the warmth blossomed into heat. “Ah, my girl is a sensualist. No surprise.”

Jeez, his killer smile should definitely be a felony. She swallowed hard, struggling to formulate a coherent sentence. “What about you? What kind of sheets are on your bed?”

“Dark green cotton jersey. It’s like sleeping on a favorite T-shirt.” His gaze darkened, grew intense. Desire smoldered in the rich brown depths. She read his thoughts as clearly as her own. Obviously, he had no trouble picturing her