Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (19 page)

C
URT’S HANDS DROPPED,
and he stepped backward, releasing Mara from the cinder-block wall. “Sm—”

She lunged forward and covered his mouth. “Not here. We’ll talk about this on the jet. I’ll tell you everything.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’d better.” His hazel eyes were colder than she’d ever imagined they could be, which was saying something for The Shark. Heading toward the elevator, she wanted to tuck her hand in his, but all the walls between them were back, with no sign of the man who’d held her while she’d slept on the plane.

“I’m sorry, Curt.”

“Save it for the jury.”

She supposed she had that coming, but still, it hurt. “Cut me some slack here. I have my reasons.”

He stopped and fixed her with a cold glare. “I’ve heard that a thousand times, from a thousand different defendants. You’re no different from criminals who say they wouldn’t have shot their dealer if their father hadn’t beat them when they crapped their pants in first grade.”

She almost choked on the fury that surged up her esophagus. Refusing to tell him about a top-secret biological weapon hardly compared. “Screw you,” she rasped. “Go back to DC by yourself.”

His jaw tightened while his eyes flashed fire. “I’m done playing games.”

“And I was
never
playing games. I was under no obligation to tell you anything. You were the envoy, nothing more. Fly back to DC alone. I’m
not
your prisoner.”

“I’m a helluva lot more than the envoy. I’ve given up precious days to save your sorry ass. Every attempt on your life also endangered mine, and you still kept that little tidbit to yourself. And you did it to protect your goddamned lying, cheating uncle.”

“I didn’t—” But she had. She’d worried from the moment she realized Curt was the envoy that if she told him about the bomb, he’d find a way to use it against Uncle Andrew.

“And, Mara, you have to return to DC with me. You’ve been subpoenaed.”

“The subpoena blew up on Oahu.”

His eyes narrowed again. “You were served.”

“I never had a chance to read it. For all I know, it was a recipe for huli huli chicken.”

He grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the elevator. “You’re coming back with me. I will get a US Marshal, so help me God.”

She pulled away from him, but those damn muscles that had impressed her yesterday now prevented her from breaking his iron grip. “I am done being a prisoner!”

The lights went out, enveloping them in utter darkness. Mara let out a squeal of surprise, then berated herself for being a damn baby.

Curt’s arms came around her, protectively, as he cursed the darkness. Shouts sounded down the hall.

She gripped his shoulders. “The killer is still here,” she whispered.

She felt his nod. “I don’t believe in coincidences.” He pulled her a few steps down the hall. “The stairs are next to the elevator.”

“He could be hiding in the stairwell.” He. Eric Fuller’s murderer. Her ex-fiancé.
Evan
.

Curt stopped. “Shit. We can’t move until the power comes back on.” He pressed her against the wall and covered her with his body. Even pissed off, he protected her.

Her heart cracked wide open. Did he have to be so damn…amazing? Of course he did. He was a hero through and through. And she deserved every ounce of his hostility. She pressed her forehead against his chest and said, “I’m sorry,” again.

“We’ll talk about it later.” But his voice was softer now, less angry.

“I trust you, Curt.”

“It’s about damn time.”

The lights flickered, then turned on. She sighed in relief. “Elevator or stairs?”

“If the power goes off again and we’re in the elevator, we’re screwed.”

“Stairs, then.”

He gripped her hand, and they headed toward the green exit sign. The door slammed open, hitting the wall with enough force to bounce. Two MPs charged through the opening. Seeing Curt and Mara, they stopped short. “Mr. Dominick, our orders are to escort you and Ms. Garrett off the base.”

“To the jet?” Mara asked.

“No. To protect military personnel and property, Colonel Norris has ordered your jet to take off. And he wants you off the base. Now.”

L
ESS THAN TEN
minutes later, they were cut loose on the streets of Tucson in a sedan provided by the base. The moment they were alone, Mara cursed Norris’s command for the jet to take off and leave them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Curt said. “We weren’t going back to the jet anyway.”

She sputtered. “But—”

“The jet would have been too dangerous. The power outage proved Fuller’s killer was still there. Evan—if it’s Evan—could have been trying to buy time to sabotage the jet.”

“So you don’t think Colonel Norris was trying to help Raptor by tossing us?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t going back to the jet. At least this way we have a vehicle. We can’t stay in it, though. Any number of people could know we have this car—and all government vehicles are fixed with tracking devices.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I can call the Arizona US Attorney for help, but it’s one in the morning. Do you know Tucson?”

“No. I’ve never been here.”

Neither had he. Ahead, he saw a blue sign with an airplane symbol and thought maybe, just maybe, luck was on his side for a change.

“We’re going to the airport?” she asked.

“We’re getting rid of this car.”

“But we can’t rent—not without a credit card transaction, and I’m pretty sure rental cars have tracking devices. Child’s play for Raptor.”

He shook his head. “We’ll take a taxi.”

“All the way to DC?”

“No. To a strip club.”

“Wow. That was
so
not what I expected you to say.”

He smiled grimly. “Me neither, but from there we can find a motel that won’t care about credit cards or IDs, and I can make arrangements.” He glanced at his passenger. “Tonight we’ll pretend we’re a couple looking to take a walk on the wild side.”

A dangerous heat suffused him. They’d be alone in a room built for sex, for hours. Neon and fireworks marked this hazardous path, yet this was the only possible move.

For some unfathomable reason, even though she’d withheld vital information from him, he wanted her. His vaunted control was about to be tested like never before.

An hour later, Curt shoved three twenties into the hand of a taxi driver as they idled in front of a Miracle Mile strip club. The man wore a knowing smirk, and Curt could only hope he didn’t recognize either of them.

On the sidewalk, Curt pulled Mara tightly to his side as they headed down the street, seeking a seedy motel.

“Lose the tie,” she said. “You look too proper for this part of town.”

“That’s the point. We’re tourists on the wild side.”

“But we don’t want to be noticed.”

She had a point. He gripped the knot. He should keep it on. He’d need all his armor where they were headed. He had to face a cold, hard fact: outside of military or government channels, arranging for another jet would be impossible.

That should be foremost in his mind, yet he was sweating the coming sleeping arrangements more than the knowledge he was likely to miss not only jury selection but also opening arguments and the first witnesses.

Evan Beck wasn’t fooling around. He’d killed two men and nearly blown Mara’s head off at Hickam. The thought of how close she’d come to dying was a sucker punch to the gut every time it crossed his mind. Which was constantly. Even when he should be thinking about the case he’d been building for the last year—the one that would cinch his place on the attorney general short list, which he’d only been working toward since he was sixteen.

But he was in Arizona—thousands of miles away from the courtroom—with the niece of the man he was prosecuting, and instead of coming up with ways to use her against her uncle in the trial, he was plagued with thoughts of other ways he wanted to use her.

If he could survive the night with his control intact, then they’d hit the road in the morning and drive without stopping—allowing for no more temptation.

And if his control failed? He’d have to decide between dropping her testimony or stepping down from the prosecution. His case or his career. If he slept with her, he couldn’t have both. And the fallout could mean he’d have neither.

She’d been holding out on him.

That knowledge was a better shield than a silk tie—which he’d removed as he walked. Damn. He was already undressing and they hadn’t even reached the motel.

A smallpox bomb, a dead operative, and a dead airman. Focus, dammit.

Mara shivered beside him, and he realized she didn’t have a coat. The temperature must have dropped below fifty degrees. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“Ever the hero.” She smiled and inhaled his scent from the cloth. The glimmer of pleasure on her face sent heat right to his cock.

They passed two motels, seeking to distance themselves from where the taxi had dropped them, in case the driver was questioned. At last they found one that looked perfectly disreputable. When he would have paused to rehearse their roles, she flashed a wicked look, squared her shoulders in the oversized coat, and marched toward the door. “Time for US Attorney Dominick to meet his wild side.”

He was in deep shit.

M
ARA PLASTERED HERSELF
to Curt’s side as he slid cash through the slot in the bulletproof window. She blew in his ear and nibbled on his jaw. The display wasn’t necessary—the guy behind the thick pane didn’t look like he kept up with the news—but dammit, Curt clung to control like a man dangling by fingertips over an abyss. And with each press of her breasts against his arm, another finger slipped from the ledge.

After everything that had happened—
don’t think about Jeannie, and definitely don’t think about her brother Eric
—she needed tenderness, affirmation. And if she couldn’t get that, she’d take the oblivion of mindless sex. Either way, she wanted him. Now.

The clerk dropped a metal key in the trough—no plastic key cards here—along with a ribbon of condoms. Mara let out a throaty laugh and said, “For a first-time john, you sure do know the place to go.”

Curt cut her a sideways glance that said he was both amused and annoyed at the role in which she’d cast him. He collected key and condoms and, fingers entwined with hers, tugged her out the door and to the stairs that led to their second floor room. On the landing, he pulled her against him. His mouth found her neck, and he said, “I thought we were a couple. Why did you make me a john?”

Because she knew it would fluster the upright attorney. She couldn’t imagine the man doing anything wicked, let alone illegal. “A real couple would go to a classier place than this dump.”

“We could be having an affair.”

She gripped his shirt. “A man wearing clothes as expensive as yours would take his mistress to a hotel. A place that gives out condoms on check-in is for whores and johns.”

His eyes narrowed in the sexiest, hottest way. The amused glare went straight to her center. “You’re blowing smoke. You’ve never been to a place like this before.”

She nibbled on his jaw and worked her way toward his ear. “This is my first time on the wild side—but I like it.”