Flash of Death (11 page)

He let her go as abruptly as he’d kissed her. “No. You don’t,” he declared quietly.

Huh? Her fuddled mind reached back for the thread of conversation he’d scorched clean out of her mind. Oh. She’d said she wished that night had never happened.
Okay, fine,
she told herself bitterly. She didn’t wish that. But she was never, ever, going to admit it to him.

Trent resumed walking, and she stumbled, trying to keep up with his long stride. “Slow down,” she finally panted.

“Sorry. Can’t. We’re being followed. Hold my arm if that’ll help.”

She grabbed his elbow and let him half drag her along at a near run. She didn’t see anyone behind them, and Trent muttered an order at her to quit looking.

Scared and desperately trying to distract herself, she picked up the thread of the conversation. “Sunny said you’re from a—I believe her word was stupidly—
wealthy
family.” His jaw tightened but he made no comment. She continued. “So tell me this. Why do you hate money so much?”

He stopped briefly at the first busy intersection they came to and made a production of adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. She noticed him surreptitiously watching behind her while he was at it.

“Is he still there?” she asked between her teeth.

“Yup.”

“Now what?” she asked nervously.

“We’re going to run. Now.”

“Huh?”

“Run.”

Chapter 6

C
hloe did her best to keep pace with Trent as he took off running, but it was a stretch. They careened around a corner and Trent darted out into the street, dragging her along, to hail a cab. He shoved her inside and bit out instructions to the cabbie. She was stunned when he slammed the door shut on her and took off running back the way they’d just come.

The cab started to move.

“Wait!” she cried out.

“The guy said to take care of you, lady.”

“But he’s in danger. We can’t leave him behind!”

“He told me to get you out of here.”

She looked out the rearview window and there was no sign of Trent. She had no clue where he’d darted off to. “Somebody was following us. I can’t just abandon my friend. Would you at least circle the block once so we can check on him? You don’t have to stop.
Please.
”

The cabbie relented, and the taxi turned the corner. She stared in shock at the sight that met her. A man was fleeing from Trent. But what dropped her jaw was how
fast
Trent was catching up. He looked like a track star. On steroids. In fast-forward video. The guy Trent was chasing looked like he was running in slow motion by comparison.

“Whoa. That guy can move. He a professional athlete or something?” the driver exclaimed.

“Or something. Follow him, will you?” Chloe directed the driver.

The cabbie had to punch the gas pretty hard to catch up with Trent. The guy he was chasing veered around a corner and Trent disappeared as he darted around the corner, too. By the time the cab got to the intersection, both the fleeing tail and Trent were gone. The cabbie circled the block again, but Chloe didn’t glimpse Trent or the man he was chasing.

“They must’ve ducked inside a building,” the driver announced.

She leaned back against the cracked vinyl cushions, perplexed. How did Trent move so fast? If he was that amazing an athlete, why wasn’t he a professional sports star? “Thanks for trying,” she told the cabbie in defeat.

“Okey dokey, miss. I’m taking you home, now.”

She fretted the entire ride back to her place. Was Trent all right? Why on earth was he chasing after that guy? What if Trent’s quarry turned out to be one of the bad guys and he turned on Trent? She realized with a start that she’d wrung her hands until they were bright red. She jammed them under her thighs to keep them still.

She paid the cabbie, tipped him generously for his help, and hurried up to her apartment. Funny how exposed she felt without Trent around to look out for her. How had he managed to worm his way into her life in one lousy day? Although she supposed it was a day-and-a-half if she counted Denver.

She double-checked the locks on her apartment and wielded an umbrella like a sword as she searched her place for intruders. Satisfied that she was home alone, she took the unusual step of closing the blinds. Distracted, she called the office to let them know she’d be working from home this afternoon. She tried to look at Barry’s financial files, but she had the focus of a gnat.

Where was Trent? Should she call the police? She didn’t even have his cell phone number to call him and check on him. But Jeff Winston would have it. She raced to her phone and called Winston Ops.

“Novak here. Go.”

“Hi. It’s Chloe Jordan. I need to get in touch with Trent Hollings.”

“Turn around and talk to him,” Novak replied jokingly. Then more seriously, “Isn’t he with you, ma’am?”

“No. He chased after some guy who was following us and sent me home alone. I don’t know if he’s all right. It’s been nearly an hour since I last saw him.”

“Stand by.” Abruptly the operations man was all business.

She waited in an agony of impatience. Trent had to be okay. He just
had
to.

“I’m tracking his cell phone and it is on the move. That doesn’t mean he’s with the device, however. He’s not answering at the moment. Protocol is to give him thirty minutes to respond before we call the police.”

“Oh, God.” Something had happened to him. She knew she shouldn’t have left him!

“Don’t worry, Miss Jordan. Trent’s one of our most experienced operatives. He can take care of himself. I’m sure he’s fine. I’ll call you back as soon as I know something.”

And in the meantime, the clock was ticking down on something being very, very wrong.

* * *

Trent leaned back, badly rattled, in the cab as it lurched in fits and starts across San Francisco’s crowded, construction-filled streets. Now why would that guy kill himself rather than let Trent question him? He’d only shouted out one question—the obvious one—to the tail as the guy ran out of room in the warehouse and crouched defensively in the corner.
Who are you?

The guy had shaken his head, muttered back at him in Spanish and then reached inside his jacket.

Trent had tensed and coiled his body to jump at full speed to avoid being shot, but instead the poor bastard had jammed the barrel of the gun in his mouth and blown his own brains out. Shock had, for once, literally frozen Trent into immobility. And the mess had been incredible. His guts twisted into an awful knot. Had he not chased the guy, he’d still be alive. But the dude had definitely been following him and Chloe. He seriously hadn’t been planning to hurt the guy. He’d just wanted to know whom the tail worked for.

Trent had snapped pictures of the body from across the warehouse and hoped the resolution was high enough that the wizards at Winston Ops could do something with the images. Maybe they could identify the poor kid.

If he was lucky, he’d left no forensic evidence behind for the police to find. It wasn’t that he minded talking to the authorities, but right now he really had to get back to Chloe to check on her. If he knew her, she was losing her mind.

What kind of organization put its employees under orders to kill themselves before allowing themselves to be questioned?

He hopped out of the cab a few blocks from Chloe’s place and hoofed it the rest of the way back. No sense leaving an easy trail for anyone to follow. He paused for a moment in front of her apartment door to mentally gird himself for the next looming crisis. He’d glimpsed her cab following him earlier as he ran at full speed. He hoped the angle had been such that Chloe didn’t get a good look at just how fast he was moving, but he feared that hadn’t been the case.

He never showed civilians his true abilities. It raised too many questions with highly classified and controversial answers. The dead man’s incredulous last words echoed in his mind... “What are you? Some kind of monster?”

That was him. A twenty-first century Frankenstein monster. And on that grim note, he knocked on Chloe’s door.

“Who’s there?” a quavering voice asked through the panel.

“It’s me. Trent.”

The door flew open and a blonde, fast-moving object launched itself at him. He grunted as Chloe’s weight slammed into him, and he used her momentum to spin them through the door. He kicked it shut with his foot while Chloe wrapped her arms around his neck and all but choked him. Damn, but he was glad to see her, too. He’d hated being away from her, even for that short time.

“Miss me?” he asked wryly.

“I was so scared. And you disappeared and we couldn’t find you and I called Winston Ops and they couldn’t get a hold of you and—”

He cut her off gently. “I was worried about you, too.” He showed her how much by kissing her. And hoo baby, did she kiss him back. Recognition exploded across his brain.
Here she was.
The passionate, unrestrained, expressive woman had finally broken through.

Her hands moved across his chest frantically as if she were checking to make sure each and every rib was intact. Her fingers passed across his neck, his jaw, his cheekbones and through his hair.

“Really. I’m fine,” he murmured against her mouth. Warmth unfolded inside him at the depth of her concern.

“Don’t leave me again,” she begged.

“Well, okay then.” He laughed against her lips. Her hands went under his sweatshirt and she groaned in what sounded suspiciously like unbridled lust. She shoved the soft garment over his head as he guided her toward the sofa. He let her push him down onto it, amused at her urgency. She tugged at his waist, and his belt slithered free of its loops. Then her hands were on his zipper.

As much as he wanted this, he was an honorable man. He didn’t take advantage of scared, vulnerable women. He caught her wrists and asked, “Are you sure about this?”

Her answer was to yank down his jeans and throw a leg across his hips. He’d take that as a yes.

It took every bit of his nimble hand speed to divest her of her clothes while she literally crawled all over him, kissing him and nipping at his flesh until he was nearly as frantic as she. What was it about this woman that drove him completely out of his mind? Was it the contrast between the conservative, uptight accountant persona she showed the world and this private, passionate part of herself she only shared with him? Whatever it was, she lit a fire in him like no other woman had.

She impaled herself on him eagerly, and rational thought fled in a groan as pleasure ripped from his throat. He surged up into her tight heat, gripping her hips and pulling her down to meet him. She leaned back as if she were a wild creature riding an untamed bronco. And he bucked beneath her just like one as she drove him completely out of his mind.

They rolled off the couch and crashed to the floor laughing, never breaking the furious rhythm of their lovemaking, pushing each other into oblivion and beyond. Her lust unleashed was a sight to behold as her entire body flushed, straining toward him. She keened her pleasure, throbbing around him so sweetly that she flung him over the edge, as well. He rolled over, pinning her beneath him, and continued to drive into her as his body recovered without pause and demanded yet more of her.

Chloe’s eyes glazed over as she lost herself in him, shuddering again and again against him and around him until, with a shout, he joined her in spasms that rocked his entire body again.

They collapsed together in a boneless heap and let the floor’s cold slate gradually quench the fire between them. Finally, with a groan, he rolled over onto his back and drew her on top of him. With his metabolism, he was rarely cold, but she’d begun to shiver. “Better?” he asked.

“Mmm. Much.”

“Convinced I’m unharmed?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She sounded like a contented kitten on the verge of passing out. He smiled into her hair. She did have a knack for making a man feel like the king of the world.

A faint buzzing sound from nearby interrupted their lazy relaxation, and he reached for his wadded trousers. He dug out his cell phone. “Yes?”

“There you are,” Novak said in relief. “I was about to send the cavalry after you. Chloe’s frantic.”

“I’m with her now. It’s all good. But the guy I was chasing blew his brains out rather than tell me who he worked for.”

Chloe tensed against him abruptly. He sat up dismayed as she climbed to her feet, snatched up her discarded clothes and fled for her bedroom.

“I’ve got a picture of the guy,” he told Novak. “Not sure how good it is, but I’ll send it to you. Maybe you can I.D. him and figure out who he worked for.” They ended the call and he duly sent the image from his phone to Winston Ops.

And now for damage control. He sighed, climbed to his feet and headed for Chloe’s room. He had no doubt she would retreat into her cold, cautious persona the same way she did after the first time they’d made love. How could he convince her she had nothing to be ashamed of? That her wild passion was something to be proud of?

As he stepped into her bedroom, she yanked an oversize pillow sham off her bed and held it in front of herself. He skipped mentioning that he had a great view of her entire naked backside in the mirror behind her.

“For God’s sake, put on some clothes!” she screeched.

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen me in all my glory a few times, now.”

“It’s embarrassing!”

He grinned. “After the things we’ve done together? We just had hot monkey sex on your living room floor.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” she snapped. She did, in fact, look completely mortified.

Yup. The prude was back. He perched a hip on her dresser and crossed his arms as she scurried around grabbing clothes and yanking them on. “Tell me something, Chloe. Why do you pull this hot-and-cold routine?”

She whirled to glare at him. “I’m never hot. At least whenever you’re not around.”

She spat the last bit at him as if it were a dire accusation. He grinned unrepentantly. “Good thing I’m going to be around for a while then, eh?”

“No! This sucks!”