Bouncer (Bad Boys in Big Trouble Book 2) (5 page)

But she felt braver in light of her recent accomplishment. Maybe losing her virginity had strengthened her backbone. Her mind slipped easily down memory lane as poignant moments of her time with Jones seeped in.

A pang of regret—not the first—crossed her mind, but she batted it down. Jones would forever live in a special place in her heart as her fabulous first lover. She left her place and started for her car. More flashes of their erotic night intruded and her stride hitched at the intensity of the remembered sensation of his hands and mouth on her, stroking her heated flesh.

The explosion of her climax reverberated through her memory. The regret accumulated as she wondered how she would find another man who was as good a lover as Jones. Strictly speaking, she didn’t have to search very hard. She had some contacts in her line of work, and she
did
have his address. If she ever decided to pursue him, she could find out exactly who Mr. Jones really was.

She shook off her heated reverie to examine later and slid into her car. A mental voice noted that the coffee shop where she was meeting Kelli was near the bar
and
the apartment of one delicious Mr. Jones. Stop it. No driving by his street. She was the one who insisted on anonymity. Besides, she’d slipped away without saying goodbye or thank you or “do me Jonesy one more time.”
Nothing
.

If a guy had done that, he’d be vilified. She rolled her eyes at her clichéd double-standard behavior. In retrospect, Jessica should have at the very least left a note of sincere thanks, or indulged in one last kiss before slinking out of his apartment at dawn like she’d done something wrong. When in fact there had been four amazing rounds of right that had taken place there.

If she hadn’t been afraid he’d wake up and seduce her into round five, she might have taken one last taste of his luscious lips. Which was how round four had come about in the wee hours of the morning. She’d rolled out from under his arm, sat up and been ready to go when the compulsion to kiss his mouth one last time came over her.

His wonderful lips had teased and tortured, licked and kissed and she’d nearly begged him to take her by the time he got around to entering her tender body that last time. But she’d been wet and ready for him. She clung to him, reveled in the sensations he evoked, caressed his muscular form as he slowly made love to her, sweetly touching her soul with that final shuddering, unexpectedly soul-wrenching climax.
Sigh.

She parked her car in the coffee shop’s small lot, got out and walked around the rear bumper. Her eye fell on the donut spare tire. It spurred a flashback of round three, when she’d been on top, and she almost stumbled in her tracks. This was ridiculous. All that from seeing a tire? She had to get a grip. It was time to focus on her Monday morning. She noticed Kelli’s neon yellow Volkswagen bug already in the parking lot.

Jessica couldn’t wait to share her great news.

Shaking off her sexy memories with difficulty, Jessica marched toward the entry. An uneasy sensation stirred in her stomach as she approached. This coffee shop was a little off the beaten path, but it seemed too quiet for a Monday morning. Her bad feeling didn’t abate as she advanced on the glass front door. Her steps slowed.

Through the glass, she could see the six-foot divider topped by fake foliage that separated the tiny entryway from the rest of the shop. She couldn’t see inside, but neither could anyone inside see out the door.

The closed sign was flipped outward, but the door was slightly ajar. Her professional instincts screaming, Jessica pushed it open silently. The deadbolt lock protruded out of the metal side, as if the door hadn’t closed completely before the lock was snapped. Why would the door be locked? Something was wrong.

She opened the door just wide enough to slip inside, then closed it quietly behind her and waited. She thought she heard the stifled sound of crying. Moving as softly as she could, she walked along the divider toward the main area of the coffee shop.

The hair on the back of her neck that had been prickling stood straight on end when she heard several screams. The sounds of chairs scraping came next.

“Anyone makes a move, and I blow her head off!” said an unseen angry male voice.

Jessica reached under her jacket and fingered the shoulder holster of her service weapon. She should exit and call for backup, but the unseen gunman drifted into her vision before she could leave. He wore a black ski mask and had his arm slung around Kelli’s neck. He waved a gun towards the rest of the room, then put it back at Kelli’s temple.

If he turned to look at the front door, he would see her. Jessica drew her weapon slowly and flipped off the safety as she focused on Kelli. She crouched next to the divider. The look of pure terror on Kelli’s face made Jessica’s rash intent more palpable.

In an instant, the gunman turned toward the door. She had only a second to react before he registered her crouched there.

“FBI! Drop your weapon!” she shouted.

The gunman automatically turned his gun towards Jessica, inadvertently twisting Kelli out of the way as he did so. He raised his arm, took quick aim and leveled his pistol as if ready to fire. So Jessica shot him in the leg. He cried out and dropped to the floor. Released, Kelli stumbled clear. Jessica leapt up and kept her gun on him. She ducked her head past the divider and back, praying there was only one gunman. Her quick survey registered a blur of non-threatening faces, no ski masks. Seeing Kelli was safely out of reach, Jessica quickly stepped to the man writhing on the floor screaming and kicked his pistol away from his body.

She took another step to the left and into the main area of the coffee shop to assess further threat potential. The 9mm Beretta clutched in her hands was pointed slightly down at the floor. No need to accidentally shoot a patron. She noted only a few customers with hands in the air. She relaxed and turned back to a tearful Kelli.

Kelli tried to speak, but couldn’t. Something still wasn’t right. Jessica realized, too late, the gunman she’d shot was not alone.

The second man came up from behind the counter where the register was. As though in slow motion, she saw the sinister expression in his eyes through the slit in the black ski mask as he leveled a gun in her direction.

He pulled the trigger. She’d failed to secure the area before relaxing her guard and now she’d pay for her incompetence with her life. This would teach her to charge in unprepared without backup.

She froze, tensing in anticipation of getting shot. The strong-armed shove to her shoulder probably saved her life. She sucked in a surprised breath at the contact and fell to one knee in an unbalanced heap. The bullet whizzed past her head but she brought her gun up, aimed at the scumbag who’d just shot at her.

“Drop it!”

“Fuck off, bitch,” he responded.

She shot him in the hand before he could take another shot at her. The money the shooter had been grabbing from the cash register flew into the air as he dropped his gun to hold his wounded, bleeding hand. Jessica heard the wail of sirens approaching faintly as if from a long distance.

The guy she’d shot in the leg wasn’t going anywhere. Jessica stood and approached the man behind the counter, pulling handcuffs out of her purse one-handed. It still miraculously hung on her shoulder.

“You shot me, you fucking bitch!” The gunman held his bleeding wound as if he couldn’t believe she’d defended herself.

“Yeah? Well, you shot at me first.” She forced him to lie facedown on the floor and kept her gun pointed at his head until she could get his good hand cuffed to a metal rack behind the counter. It held neat little rows of coffee packages, but if he tried to get away it would make a lot of noise and slow him down.

She moved to the end of the counter, where she could keep an eye on both ski-masked men. The police arrived and entered, guns drawn.

“Drop your weapon!”

“I’m an FBI special agent,” she said non-threateningly. She placed her weapon on the floor at her feet, knowing she’d have to surrender it to an evidence bag. She stuck her hands in the air and backed up a step. She now had her back to all the other patrons. “There’s the guy by the door and one secured behind the counter here with my handcuffs.”

Kelli stood over the whimpering first gunman. A police officer squatted over him, checked him and used his com to call for an ambulance. All Jessica could think of was the mountains of paperwork she’d have to fill out for this escapade today. And she hadn’t even had any caffeine yet.

“Where’s your ID?” the officer asked as he kicked her gun to the side.

“In my front pocket.”

“Got any other weapons on your person?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “I have an ankle holster, and a knife.” This was not the way to start out a Monday morning, especially not after such a memorable Saturday night with Mr. Delicious. She still had to tell Kelli about the fabulous sex she’d shared with an anonymous stranger.
After
she got a cup of coffee.

The officer kept his gun on her. “Reach slowly into your pocket and get your ID.”

Jessica pulled out her badge with two fingers. She palmed it and flipped it open one-handed.

The officer studied it a moment and then lowered his weapon. “Sorry. We have to check everyone out.”

“I know.”

The officer glanced down at her weapon on the floor. “Also, you’ll have to surrender the weapon you fired for evidence.”

“I know that, too.” She wasn’t upset. That was protocol. At least another gun would be brought to her before she left the scene. She gave him a small smile of assurance and turned as Kelli approached with a slightly shell-shocked expression.

“Are you okay?” Jessica hugged Kelli to her a moment. The police were milling around, checking things out and talking to the scared and relieved patrons.

“You sure do know how to make an entrance, Jessica.”

“I try.”

“Now that you’ve finished shooting all the bad guys, I have good news for you.”

“I have news too—”

“I found someone to help you with your problem.” Her gaze shifted over Jessica’s left shoulder. Jessica felt someone approach from behind and a recently familiar scent wafted around her. Sex. Man. Mr. Delicious. Jones?

Kelli’s words didn’t register. Problem? What problem? She turned to see the person Kelli was staring at.

Oh no. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The only man in the world with intimate carnal knowledge of her body stared back at her. Jones stood a pace away, a slightly sardonic smile on his face.

“Mark Reece, this is Jessica Hayes. She’s the one I told you about,” Kelli said in a voice Jessica considered very loud.

No. No. No.
This could not be happening. Kelli had told Mr. Delicious she needed to be deflowered?

Kill me. Kill me now.

“Hi, Jessica Hayes,” he said in a sultry, sexy, now-I-know-your-name tone of voice. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

He extended his hand. A hand she remembered vividly had brought her to repeated climaxes less than thirty-six hours ago. She reflexively placed her hand in his and he held it longer than he should have for a casual first-time greeting.

The mental image of his large, warm hand snug between her legs, stroking her, intruded and she let go as if he’d burned her. She knew without a doubt as the heat blazed a path across her cheeks that her color was way up.

“Jessica is the one who needs to get laid,” Kelli said in a conspiratorial whisper. “And she’s never done it before.”

“Hasn’t she?” Mark winked at Jessica.

“Yes. So don’t forget to be gentle with her.”

More blood rushed to Jessica’s cheeks in mortification. The pressure of her embarrassment was about to start leaking right out of her face.

She tried to keep from shouting in frustration when she said, “Kelli, it’s Monday morning and I haven’t had coffee yet. You just watched me shoot two people. I had to surrender my weapon, but I have a backup. Say another word on this topic and you’re my third target.”

Kelli, in her zeal to “help” out, hurriedly said, “Don’t worry. Mark’s a good guy. He’ll treat you right. I promise.”

“Great.” Jessica put a hand over her eyes and hung her head, wondering what to do. She didn’t know what to say to either of them. Kelli, who always ran at the mouth, needed to stop talking. Jones, who in the light of day was even more delicious than she remembered, probably thought she was pathetic.

“Could you give us a minute, Kelli?” the very delicious Jones asked. He took Jessica’s arm lightly yet firmly and led her a few feet away to relative peace and quiet in an alcove near the restroom hallway.

“You,
Miss Smith
, have some explaining to do.”

“I do not!” she whispered hotly. She tugged her arm away from his hand.

His eyebrows rose. “Those stains on my sheets have a whole new meaning this morning.”

“Oh my good heavens. Please stop talking!” She put both of her hands to her face, certain it was about to burst from humiliation with all the blood rushing there.

“Why? Are you going to shoot me, too?”

She dropped her hands and looked at him. His expression was slightly contrite.

“No,” she said on a sigh. “It’s too much damn paperwork.” She gestured to the room at the police officers, paramedics dealing with the wounded suspects and the scared patrons. “And you can see I have a full day’s worth ahead of me.”