Transference (6 page)

"You really think she somehow set you up?"

"I know she did. Whoever's running the op has a lot of leeway, but there are limits. My kill order had to come straight from her."

"Oh. So you were just in charge of the minor things, like framing innocent men for murder?"

"Something like that." He grinned over at her. "Of course, now that I've told you that, I'll have to kill you."

"Bring it on, Markenson." Allison flicked her tongue over her dry lips. "I'd love to wrap my shoelaces around your throat again."

His voice finally relaxed the rest of the way. "If we're going to get all nostalgic then I can try to find another room with...were those gnomes?"

"No way. I still have nightmares about that fucking wallpaper."

* * *

After that, the remnants of the sexual tension simmering between them dissipated and they managed to maintain a companionable banter for the remaining hours of the road trip. It reminded Brad of the time he'd spent befriending her in AA. Despite playing a role that was his polar opposite, he hadn't felt as comfortable with anyone else in quite a while.
 

Certainly, he'd never felt as at ease with Stafford, even after they got on a chummy first name basis while she set him up.

Nina Stafford. He still couldn't quite believe how thoroughly she'd played him. If there was a history of secret rendezvous with Waverly, what else had she hidden from him? Too bad he didn't know this new bit of news sooner. Just thinking about how he might've been able to stop his fall from grace and subsequent exile made him a little ill.

In fact, he could hardly concentrate on driving, missing the turn he'd planned when mapping out their route. That wasn't like him. This shouldn't affect him. If they were going to make it to Costa Rica then he was going to have to get back on his game.

Sleep. That's what the problem was. He hadn't gotten much the night before. Maybe a few extra hours today would help sharpen his focus again.

Rattled, Brad pulled into the lot of the first motel he ran across after that. Before Allison could comment on the time, he hopped out of the car to get a room for the day. This time, it was a room with two double beds.
 

No repeated mistakes this time.

As they had the previous night, Allison showered while he secured the room. She exited the bathroom – in a robe and t-shirt this time – and he quickly made his way into the shower – alone this time. Within what must have only been an hour, they were both tucked away into their respective beds.
 

Brad closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Only to be gradually pulled back to consciousness by the feel of warm lips grazing their way down his torso. "Allison..." His voice trailed off when her hands freed him from his boxers. He let his fingers tangle into her hair while her hands stroked him. When her mouth closed over him, scorching and wet, he let a guttural sound escape his throat just before yanking sharply on her hair.

"Yow." Allison swatted at his thigh. "That fucking hurt."

"Me more than you." Brad spared a glance down to his raging hard-on. "Trust me."

She slid her body slowly up his, leading with lips and tongue. "So let go of my hair and let me take care of that for you."

Her voice was so raw with need that he nearly pushed her head back to where it would do the most good. "We can't do this. Not again."

"I know." She tugged at his shirt until he released her hair so that she could pull his shirt over his head.

Brad followed suit and her shirt joined his on the floor. "You know we shouldn't do this."

"I don't care, Markenson." She moved to straddle him. "Just stop talking and touch me."

"Not so fast." He flipped her over and pinned her wrists at either side of her head. "My bed, my rules, Waverly."

She let out a sharp breath. "You have an awful lot of rules."

"Having rules keeps things clear."

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you planning to talk me senseless?"

He hovered his lips over hers and then moved them just out of her reach when she craned her neck to kiss him. "So you want senseless then?"

"Please..." Allison arched against him; tilting her hips up to more readily accommodate him. "Markenson..."

Brad pressed into her a fraction of an inch and stopped, still restraining her wrists. "What do you want? Say it, Allison."

"I want you." Her voice was hoarse and her legs tightened around him. "Now. Please."

"I'll bet you do, babe."

Rather than listen to any more pleading, Brad attacked her mouth with lips and teeth, eliciting primal sounds from her long before he made another move inside her. He released her wrists to obtain the leverage he'd need for a better angle and her arms instantly circled him, her nails forming tiny crescents on the skin of his back. She was wild with want and already teetering on the edge when he finally took her.

But Brad was as clear-minded as he'd ever been.

Just as he had been their first night together.

He'd known the moment he opened his eyes to find her in his bed that he was getting laid again. Hell, he'd had an idea this would happen from the way she kept checking him out in the car when she didn't think he could see her. Even as he told her they needed to stop, he knew they weren't going to. It was a simple trade really. She needed a fix and he wanted to fuck. So long as she was the one to start things, his guilt was absolved.
 

Later, when they were both hoarse and fighting for breath from their exploits, Allison shoved away from him – just as he knew she would – and returned to her bed, clutching her shirt against her chest. "I hate you...
so much
."

The way her voice quivered, he almost felt guilty. Not really though. She was the one who'd woken him up with her mouth. Don't toss food in front of the lion if you don't want it to eat.

Brad locked his fingers behind his head and let the smug smile spread across his face. In a voice quiet enough that he could be talking to himself yet loud enough for Allison to hear, he said, "I know you do."

CHAPTER 8

THAT WAS HOW the next three weeks went for them. They maintained a playful banter each night as they drove, almost like that of friends. Each time they stopped at a motel for the day, Allison would wait until the lights were out and then crawl into bed with Brad, keeping them both awake until the sun had arched its way high in the sky.
 

Of course, they were no more friends than they were lovers. Once their romp in the sack was complete and she was able to move, she would retreat to her own bed and tell him she hated him. But she didn't hate him; not really. She hated herself for wanting him the way she did and she hated not being able to stop herself from bedding him every day.

Allison would only hate him if she knew he wasn't as out of control as she was.

Brad unlocked the car as they crossed the parking lot to it from the all-night diner where they'd just eaten. After three weeks of living on fast food, they'd finally treated themselves to a real meal. It wasn't as though they had to be as careful now as they had in the beginning. There'd been no sign of assassins or cops.

"That was good pie," he said.

"Yours was better."

He gave her a funny look over the top of the car. "Well, I won't be baking any pies for a while so that'll have to do."

Allison mumbled something about having better things to do at the motel than bake a pie, but since she was getting into the car, he didn't really catch it. Good thing, too. They'd been able to keep those two aspects – car and motel – completely separate. They didn't discuss what went on in the hotel while driving and they didn't have any witty banter in bed.

He slipped his drink into the cup holder and started the engine. After a few miles of driving, something caught his eye in the rearview mirror. "Can you find something on the radio? I'm sick of road noise."

"Oh, so I'm not interesting company any more? I get it," she teased as she ran through the stations.

While her attention was occupied, Brad glanced in his mirrors again and silently removed his gun, sliding it onto the seat at his hip. Perhaps he was being paranoid, he thought while gently easing off the accelerator. Perhaps not.

Who drove in the dead of night with their lights off?

"There. That's a good song. Go back."

Allison glared over at him and put on the song he'd just heard. "Figures you would like this one."

"What?" He grinned over at her, letting his eyes scan the scene out the back window in the process. "
Getting Away With Murder
is sort of my theme song."

It was definitely a tail; Brad was certain of it. But was it the government or just the cops? One of those would be much trickier than the other.

They were still too far back, but it had to be a government operative. A cop would have turned on the lights and sirens by now. He completely removed his foot from the accelerator and let the car's speed drop to under thirty miles per hour, forcing the tail to slow way down or run into them.

They slowed, maintaining the distance.

"You didn't forget to fill up the tank, did you, Markenson?"

"No." He checked the rearview mirror a final time. "Waverly, you'd better make sure your seatbelt is fastened."

"What's going on? You're scaring me."

Brad didn't respond, waiting instead for the metallic clink of compliance.

He mashed the gas pedal to the floor and the car leapt into action. It may be a plain-jane car, but it had more than enough get up and go, specifically selected for this very situation. "Hold on."

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a drive."

The tail flipped their lights on and began to close the distance. Allison's eyes widened in response. "Oh, God. They're here."

"Yeah." Brad reached for his cup and took a calm sip from his straw before replacing it.

"You're fucking kidding me with this!" Allison's knuckles were white from their death grip on the sides of her seat.

"What? I was thirsty."

The black sedan rammed them from behind and Allison let out an ear-piercing scream.

"You've got to stop that, princess, or you're going to make me wreck. That scenario doesn't work out so well for you."

The sedan rammed them again and Brad cut the wheel to the left and hit the brake, bringing them next to their assailant before cutting the wheel back to the right, slamming into them with enough force to break off the sedan's window.

Allison went pale as a corpse. "We're going to die."

"Not on my watch." He cut the wheel to the right again tried to force the sedan into a tree. Instead, they went around the tree and met them back on the road with a jolt. "Be a pal and get my spare gun from the glove box."

She did as she was told, holding it out for him on shaking hands. "Here. Now what?"

"Now shoot them, Allison."

"I can't shoot them. You do it."

Brad rolled his eyes. "I'm a little busy driving at the moment."

"Well, I can't do it."

"Oh for fuck's sake." He pulled the emergency brake and the car spun around. He released it and hit the gas, propelling them back the way they'd come. "You have really got to stop being such a woman about all this if you don't want to get yourself killed."

"I am a woman, jackass."

"Acting like one isn't going to keep you alive right now. Where's the bitch who got the drop on me with her shoelaces? I could actually use her right now."

Glancing in the mirror to ensure they had already turned to follow them, Brad flipped another U-turn and sped straight for them. He pressed the button to slide his window down and ordered, "Take the wheel."

"What?"

"I said take the motherfucking wheel, Waverly. If you won't shoot then you'll drive. Do it!"

The moment her hands reached for the wheel and her foot nudged his on the gas pedal, Brad climbed halfway out his window, gun drawn, ready. Yelling back to her, "Keep your foot on the gas and pay attention."

He fired off five shots the moment the sedan came into range and it erratically swerved towards them. "Look alive, Waverly!"

Allison pulled the wheel to the right, narrowly missing the collision. Brad kept his aim until the car careened off the road and smashed into a massive oak tree. "Move," he yelled to her an instant before he slid back to his seat. "Here we go."

Once more, he spun the car around and moved within firing range of the disabled car. Brad pressed the button to roll down Allison's window. Grinning and throwing the car into park, he asked, "Any chance the bitch is back?"

In unison, they leaned out their windows and began to fire at the car. If there was anyone left alive in there, they wouldn't be for long. Especially not when one of their bullets hit the fuel tank, ending the chase in a fiery finale.

Brad threw the car into gear and sped away before the heat of the explosion could reach them. The gun fell uselessly from Allison's hands to the floorboard. Flipping off the radio, he looked at her in concern. "We're okay, Allison. You're safe now."

"Am I?"

He took another sip from his drink and offered it to her. "Thirsty?"

"Stop the car." She ripped the cup from his fingers and threw it out her still opened window.

"Guess not."

"Stop the fucking car, Brad."

This was bad. She had the same look in her eye she'd had right before jumping from the motel room's back window once she realized she hadn't strangled him thoroughly enough to make it out the front door and get down a flight of stairs before he got to her. Allison ripped off her safety belt and made a move as though to leave the car. Reflexively, Brad grabbed her wrist to stop her.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you aren't going out on your own."

"No." She climbed over the center console to him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Brad claimed her mouth the moment she was close enough to him, forcing his tongue past her lips to duel for supremacy with hers. She unfastened her shorts and pushed them from her hips with her panties while he unzipped his jeans. There was no need to remove any additional articles of clothing; no need for foreplay.