Chasing Shadows (22 page)

The cuffs forced him to be patient, to find new, interesting ways to negotiate simple matters like stripping her clothes from her.  She cooperated by shrugging out of the jacket.  KC laughed as he tried and failed to open the vest's buttons with his teeth.

  "Allow me," she said.  

He leaned back to watch her fingers tease each button free until the vest hung open.  An involuntary groan escaped his lips as she ever so slowly slid it off her shoulders, then reached her arms behind her, allowing it to drop to the floor.

Chase could resist no longer.  He buried his face between her breasts, tasting the sweat that had pooled there.  She laughed, and he stretched to take one ripe nipple into his mouth.  He rolled his tongue over it, feeling a gasp of pleasure run through her.  

She fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him closer.  He opened his mouth wider, her heartbeat echoing through him as he quenched his thirst for her.  He felt her stiffen once more, a moan echoing through her, and he released her.

"Don't stop," she said, her voice raspy.

"Take your jeans off," he commanded, turning his head so his breath rippled over the wet flesh of her breast.  She shuddered once more, and her fingers fumbled for her chain link belt.  

Once the belt was unsnapped, Chase yanked it backwards, free of the loops that held it in place.  He had more freedom now but was still trapped by her—just as she was trapped between his arms.

She unzipped the jeans, and he pushed the denim and her panties down, the lengths of chain dancing against the back of her thighs, catching the light of the fire.  He knelt before her as she kicked free of first one pants leg then the other and he was finally able to appreciate her body art in its full glory.

And art it was.  Inked over the flesh of her abdomen was an astonishingly lifelike lizard, its scales rippling as her muscles moved, lying on its back, head and four legs juggling balls with the yin/yang symbol within them.  Chase traced the lizard's tail over KC's left hip where it wound down behind her thigh and back around to end just above her knee.

His tongue flicked out to tickle the tail's end.  He watched in fascination, it wiggled as her skin quivered.  He stroked his tongue higher, each time the effect was slightly different, more intense.  He halfway expected the tail to separate from her skin and curl around his neck.

He slid his fingers between her legs, felt her heat, she was wet, ready for him, her hips arching as his fingers stroked her.  He rocked back on his heels, watching the chameleon juggle the yin/yang balls as waves of pleasure washed over her, rippling the muscles of her belly.  Her hands gripped his shoulders, her body writhed under his attentions, and her knees began to buckle.

He gave her one last climax.  The chameleon seemed to wink at him in return as her body shuddered with her release.

"You must be very close to the tattoo artist," he said, surprised to hear jealousy in his voice.

Her head was bent down, touching his as she caught her breath.  "Friend of mine, used to be a counterfeiter, served three years at Lomloc.  He works for us now.  Loves doing my art before I go on assignment, says it lets him use his creativity."  

Chase stroked a finger along the back of her thigh, finding a ticklish area that made the lizard jump as she laughed.  

"It's temporary of course," she went on, "it'll be totally faded away in a month or so."

Too bad—he liked this karma juggling lizard.  Then he thought about the idea of another man staring at KC naked, painstakingly inking his creation onto her flesh.  

"Is that what you do, Special Agent?  Get involved with ex-cons?  You like dangerous men, don't you?"  

His vision darkened with anger and jealousy.  He might be the one restrained here, but she was his, belonged to him and him alone.  

Chase could not bear the thought of any other man touching her, looking at her with passion in his eyes.

"Raymond's not dangerous," she laughed, missing the edge in his voice.  "He just likes to use me as his canvas.  He calls this one Karma Chameleon, if that gives you any hint as to where his preferences lie."

Karma Chameleon?  KC—it suited her, the way she went so deep undercover that she fell into her characters, juggling fate and circumstances to suit her needs of the moment.  

Then the reference hit him, and Chase felt foolish for the irrational wave of jealousy that had overcome him.  "Like the old song by Boy George?"

"Yeah, he's Raymond's hero.  Believe me, you're more his type than I am."  

She wriggled within his grasp, delighting him as the chameleon began to tempt fate once more.  "Once I was under as a Catholic school girl, goody twoshoes fallen for the wrong guy, the school drug dealer.  He called his heroin 'Crouching Tiger', was really into kungfu and stuff, so Raymond inked a tiger around my arm as a sign of my devotion.  Really turned the kid on.  He wouldn't stop talking, gave up everything, trying to show off.  Raymond said it was because of the second, secret tattoo he drew—a small, hidden dragon, right here."  

Chase listened to her speech, her words came in a quick rush.  He looked up and saw that she was blushing.  Was KC nervous?  He grinned, rather liking the idea that he could fluster the unflappable Special Agent.  

Her finger traced a small circle just below her left breast, directly over her heart.  He raised his head, followed her hand with his mouth.  Her heart thumped beneath his touch.

"Dragonheart," he murmured, liking how the words fit her.  Hot, fierce, fiery.  He craved her touch, barely cared that he might get burned.  

KC had done more than earn his trust, Chase realized.  She had earned his respect.  And he was coming perilously close to losing his heart to her as well.

"All right, my turn," she said in a voice of command, pulling him to his feet.  "Show me yours."

CHAPTER 31

KC knew she was being cruel as she teased him with her hands, unsnapping his jeans and slowly pushing them down his long, muscled legs.  She didn't care.  If all they had was an hour, she was going to make it the most unforgettable hour of either of their lives. 

She'd never wanted a man the way she wanted Chase Westin.  No, this was more than want or desire.  This was primal need.

She hiked her hips onto the thin mattress of the bunk.  Perfect height, she thought, inching her bare feet up Chase's chest, watching the expression on his face as she opened herself up to him, hiding nothing.  

His hands were trapped by her weight and the handcuffs, so she was free to take control.  She reached between her legs, her fingers stroking the length of him as he moved his hips forward.  He made an animal sound, his fingers clenching her buttocks, tugging her nearer to him.

She traced her fingers back up to his belly button, watching as his chiseled muscles rippled with pleasure.  

"Condoms," she reminded him, reaching past him to her jacket.  She grabbed the foil pouch from one of the pockets and tore it open.  One good thing about "bad girl" KC—she was always prepared.

After he was covered, KC leaned back, her hand guiding Chase.  Chains jangling like Christmas bells, he lifted her hips and thrust into her.  She grabbed onto the edge of the cot, holding onto her sanity as another wave of pleasure overtook her.  

His eyes locked onto hers.  She was drowning in those indigo depths, all time and space collapsing with her as a roar of ecstasy overwhelmed her.  His cry mixed with hers, and she felt him break the chains that bound him.

Lucky decided that with his one arm still out of commission—
temporarily
, it wasn't like he'd had a stroke or something—his best move was to play possum.  

He heard a car pull up in front of the shed, the sound of one door slamming shut, and lay on the floor, his arms behind him, the shiv hidden out of sight.  He kept his eyes slitted shut as the door was unlocked and pushed open.  

Fergus entered, carrying a chain rattling with thick links.  Ballast, Lucky realized, the taste of bile etching his throat.  Enough to weight a body as it fell into a mine shaft.

Fergus didn't even glance in his direction, left the door wide open and dropped the chain to the floor with a clatter.  Lucky didn't see any weapons on the man.  He held his breath, feigned unconsciousness as Fergus finally approached.  

The bowlegged caricature of a man squatted down, reached to roll Lucky over onto his stomach.

Lucky kept his body a dead weight until Fergus had him halfway rolled over, exposing the side of Fergus' neck.  Then he aimed a knee into Fergus's abdomen and shoved his weight on top of him, the jagged edge of the shiv at the other man's jugular.

Fergus went white, and he shouted a curse.  "You were dead!" 

 "Think again," Lucky whispered as he leveraged his arm against the man's windpipe to shut him up before any of his partners heard his cries.  "Where's the Preacher?  Who else is here?"

The little man just kept shaking his head, muttering gibberish.  Typical bully.  Give them any show of resistance and they crumble.  Of course, seeming to return from the dead wasn't hurting his street cred any.

"Tell me, Fergus!"  He held the shiv in front of the man's face, one tip aiming at Fergus' eye.

"Go to hell!"  Fergus crashed his beefy fist into Lucky's throat.  

Lucky's vision darkened with pain as he gasped for breath.  He swiped his blade down, ripping through the flesh of Fergus' cheek, but Fergus deflected it before it could do any serious damage.  Fergus pushed Lucky off him and scrambled to retrieve the chain he'd dropped by the door.

Lucky caught his breath and rolled to his feet.  Fergus was swinging the chain before him, aiming to snag Lucky's knife hand with it.  Lucky feinted with his knife, then stepped forward, extending his left arm to take the blow from the chain.

The heavy chain wrapped around Lucky's forearm like a python strangling its prey.  Fergus howled with victory as he wrenched the chain tighter, pulling Lucky forward onto his knees.

"You're gonna stay dead this time!" he roared as he circled a length of chain around Lucky's neck and used both hands to tighten it.

Lucky leaned his weight back, forcing Fergus to step closer.  Just a little bit more, he thought as his vision darkened.  Fergus obliged, leaning forward to watch Lucky's suffering.

Giving Lucky the opening he had been hoping for.  Lucky rammed the homemade blade up, burying it into Fergus's groin.  Fergus jerked back in astonishment and Lucky yanked the knife out.  A spray of blood spurted from Fergus's femoral artery.  Fergus dropped the chain, clasped both hands over the wound and staggered backward.   Lucky uncoiled the chain from his neck and stumbled to his feet, aimed another stabbing blow under Fergus' ribcage.

This time Fergus dropped to the ground, one hand flailing for the shiv stuck in his chest, the other slipping in the blood streaming from his thigh.  Lucky dropped the chain onto the floor and crouched beside the dying man.

"Last chance, Fergus," he said.  "Where's the Preacher?  Who is he?  What does he have planned?"

The little man's color had grown ashen.  He twisted his lips into a grimace, and his hand tightened on the blade in his chest.

"The death of all of you."  Fergus's words were slurred by hatred and effort.  "I'll see you in hell, Cavanaugh."

Before Lucky could stop him, Fergus wrenched the shiv free.  A fresh blossom of blood streamed over his shirt.  Lucky put pressure on the wound, but knew that without the blade slowing the blood loss, it was a useless gesture.  He felt for a pulse.  There was none.

Lucky sat back on his heels, his body splattered with blood.  He dragged in a breath, let it out, his eyes never leaving the body of the man he had killed.  When he finally raised his gaze, he spotted a pickup truck waiting outside.  Lucky climbed to his feet, wavered for a moment, then staggered toward the door.

Time to blow this joint.

CHAPTER 32

Chase held her afterward as they lay together on the scratchy wool blanket that covered the cot.  KC played with the remnants of her belt, making the chains jangle and chime as she stroked his wrist.  He loved the feel of her hands on his body, anywhere on his body.  Her touch shot an electrical tingling straight to his heart.  She dropped the chain and ran her fingers up his arm to twirl his hair.

"My Samson," she said with a grin.

"Does that make you my Deliah?" he asked, kissing the side of her neck.  "Are you going to betray me, KC?"

A dark look crossed her face for a brief instant, then she returned her gaze to the broken length of chain.  "Too bad," she said with the same mischievous grin that she'd given him back in her bedroom—was that only a few hours ago?  It felt like a lifetime ago.  "I had plans for those handcuffs."

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, his fingers tracing the yin/yang symbols inked onto her belly.  "Karma, that's like fate, right?"

"Hmmm, something like that," she murmured as she stretched, her hands stroking his arms, her body relaxed, totally at ease with him.  He looked down at her, past the wild purple hair to those dark eyes, now heavy lidded and languid, and wished they never had to leave this place, this moment in time.

"If I never got that pass home for Christmas," he continued, "then my folks would still be alive, I would've stayed with my team, and they would still be alive, too?"

She straightened, her eyes opening wide, fixed on his.  Her hand slid up his arm to rest against his cheek.

"No.  That's not Karma," she told him in a serious voice.  "Those were circumstances you couldn't foresee, out of your control.  

"Karma is, I think, when you do have a choice and you know one choice is more painful, will cost you more than the other, but you make it anyway because it's the right thing to do.  Then sometime down the road, those choices add up to something wonderful happening, something you could never in your wildest dreams predict ever happening to you."  She leaned forward so that their foreheads touched and kissed him lightly.  "That's Karma."