Taking the Heat(11)

“Sex with you is invigorating. You keep me going.”

“Don’t remind me.”

For all her complaints, when he pulled the sheet back and trailed his lips along the curve of her back, she moaned with pleasure and arched into the contact. The bruises on her elbows were darker than they’d been the day before, reminding him of how fragile she was.

“Be a good girl,” he whispered against her skin, “and I’ll reward you later.”

One bloodshot eye opened and glared at him. “You owe me.”

“I’ll pay. Gladly.” Brian straightened and backed away from the temptation her sleep-soft naked body presented. He’d fucked her for hours, finally managing to pull away from her when sunlight peeked around the edges of the blackout drapes. But he still had so many nights to make up for. He’d had little appetite for sex since she left him and it felt as if every hunger that had been dammed up behind his heartache was breaking loose. “Don’t forget to pack the lube.”

She held up a hand, revealing the bottle clutched in her fist.

The smile on his face fled the moment he left the room. Before he walked away, he made certain the latch was firmly engaged. The morning was cool and gray, with a slight nip in the air. With a baseball cap pulled down low over his forehead, he kept a careful surveillance of his surroundings. He took a weed-riddled path through a copse of trees to the strip mall up the road, where he’d parked the Bronco. There, he bought a newspaper from a coin-operated stand in front of a grocery store and looked for any signs that the vehicle had been staked out. Digging one of the disposable cell phones out of his pocket, he called Jim.

“Hey,” the deputy answered. “You all right?”

“So far. How are things on your end?”

“They’re not looking at me for anything, so you’re still clean with the car. But you’re the lead person of interest, of course. Your mug has been sent to every law enforcement agency across the country. The heat is on, my man.”

“I can take it.” He’d expected it. He had survived the blast and taken off with the witness. To call that suspicious would be an understatement. “Thanks, Jim.”

“Take care. I won’t breathe easy until you get to San Diego.”

“You and me both.”

Brian ended the call and dismantled the phone. Then he pulled out another one and called the assistant U.S. attorney in San Diego to assure her that Layla Creed would appear on the witness stand as scheduled. He made the call short and to the point, despite the groggy AUSA’s valiant efforts to get more details out of him. He took that phone apart, too, and as he passed a parked pickup truck, he tossed the pieces in the bed. Then he drove the Bronco to a gas station and back to the motel, where he grabbed some foil-wrapped breakfast burritos and coffee from the adjacent diner.

When he returned to the room, he found Layla packed up, bathed and dressed, and falling asleep at the small table under the window. He loaded the suitcases into the truck, then came back for her.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep.” She pushed to her feet, slapped a hat on her head, and set her hand in his. She’d pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail, showing off the slender neck he loved to run his lips over. She wore jeans and a T-shirt with body armor over the shirt, and his flannel from the day before over that. Call him a caveman, but he loved the idea of her wearing his scent. Loved that she’d always wanted to and still did.

He’d backed into the parking spot in front of the motel room and left the passenger door open. Keeping Layla between the vehicle and himself, he escorted her to the car, then rounded the back end of the Bronco and climbed behind the wheel. He headed straight for the highway.

“Thanks for this,” she said, referring to the unzipped sleeping bag he’d set on the floorboard. She dragged it up to her neck and snuggled into it.

“Recline the seat. Take a nap. If you’re hungry, there are egg, bacon, and salsa burritos in the bag. Coffee with way too much cream and sugar—just the way you like it—is right here.”

Instead of looking at the cup he pointed to, Layla kept on looking at him. “Are you okay?”

He took a sip of his overly hot black coffee. “After last night? I’m better than okay. I haven’t felt this good in years.”

“Liar.” Her exhale was audible. “What is this going to do to your career, Bri? How much trouble are you going to get into for this?”

“I’m not worried about it.” Not absolutely true, but mostly so. He’d invested a lot in his job. Shit, he had lost her over it. But that old argument between them had been about his life being on the line. Now, they were talking about hers. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t sacrifice to keep her safe.

“I am.”

“Don’t be.” He glanced at her. “The only thing you need to be concerned with is following my directions.”

She nodded, but still looked troubled. He wasn’t worried about her making his job harder. She knew the drill and she was an intelligent woman. She might give him a hard time about everything else, but when it came to his job and her safety, she’d do what needed to be done.

Silence followed, but when he looked at her, she was still watching him.

“Tell me about your dream last night,” he said.