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  “This hits the spot.” He took a sip, looking over his shoulder a second before two kids on bikes whipped around them, bumping him backwards. Ice-cold soda sprayed up in the cold air, soaking his shirt and the front of his jeans. He yelped and grabbed his crotch.

  “You little bastards.”

  Ali caught his arm and tried to see the area he was gripping. “Are you okay?”

  “Hell, no. I need to get out of the cold before my dick freezes solid.”

  “I suggest you go sit in the café until it thaws out.” Ali brushed soda off her shopping bags.

  “What? You mean you’re leaving me behind? You never leave a partner behind.”

  “Bullshit, Gun. I’ll call a cab if you want one.”

  “No.” He shivered and wheezed. “You go ahead. If I can’t go to your hotel, I’ll warm up somewhere.”

  “Great.” Snuggling deeper into the warmth of her coat, she gathered up the shopping bags and started walking toward her hotel.

  “I’ll remember this.”

  “Me, too.”

  He followed and hollered after her as she crossed the street. “I’m serious. I’ll remember this.”

  “Gun, shut up before you’re arrested for soliciting.”

  “Hey, that’s an idea. I don’t suppose you’d be ...”

  “Go to hell, Gun.”

  Chapter 5

  The wheels on her suitcase squeaked as Ali pulled it across the wet tarmac. Wind-whipped snow melted on her bare legs, and she gave Gun a quick glance. He didn’t offer to help her. Why would he? She’d told him she could take care of herself. He sauntered ahead of her in his Italian suit made up of black slacks and a long, charcoal, fine wool overcoat. He even wore one of those mobster-looking rolled-brim black homburgs.

  He finally looked at her when she walked up the steps ahead of him to board the plane. What a change. He looked dark, mean, and dangerous. That easy smile had vanished, and his chiseled mouth had set in a hard line.

  “Didn’t get enough sleep, Gun?”

  He took off his coat and followed her to the last row of double seats. “I can sleep after I’m dead.”

  She breathed in a gulp of air that held a mix of his exotic scent and her cheap perfume from the boutique. What a pair they made. Him with his Jack-the-Ripper attitude, and she with her hooker’s-delight wardrobe. Putting on the hooker clothes had seemed like a good idea back in the hotel. In case someone was tailing them, they would look the part of two people out for fun. Christ, what a pair.

  She caught a glimpse of his reflection beside her in the small window. He was sleek, dark evil planted next to her frizzy big hairdo, gaudy clothes, ton of makeup, and jewelry image. He obviously wanted to sit with her and stood aside to let her take the seat by the window.

  She had lain awake most of the night, running the assignment through her head over and over. Maybe he had, too. The thought made her snort. He looked at her briefly, then went back to whatever world he lived in. He spoke again, irritating her with his deep voice.

  “Donavon.”

  Ali steeled her shoulders against a shudder of expected trouble. “Gun?”

  “Do you speak Spanish?”

  “Some. How about you?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled the hat down over his face.

  He was apparently through with her for the time being, already breathing deeply and looking totally relaxed, using his fancy hat as a shield. Up front, Rance settled into the seat nearest the bar and refrigerator, not to mention the washroom. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Now, she’d have to crawl over Gun to go pee.

  She caught Rance’s little salute as he walked back to where she sat. He grinned at her and leaned over, purposely dragging his coat over Gun’s head. “You got any questions to run by me, Donavon?” He moved his coat and laughed. “Man, you need to start sleeping at night.”

  Gun brushed at Rance’s hand as he tried to take the hat from his face. “I have something you can kiss, Rance, and it’s not my foot.”

  The comment seemed to please Rance as he chuckled and winked at Ali. “He really likes me.” He grinned, gesturing toward her hair. “By the way, you look pretty damned good.” He ambled back to his seat.

  She nodded and leaned back in her seat, tormented by tremors of tension in her stomach. Anxiety, the doctor had told her. She had known plenty of that in her life, and it damned sure looked like there was plenty more on the way.

  The pilot called back to the cabin, telling them to fasten their seatbelts. After a stop to refuel in Miami, it would be ten hours to Colombia. That long with two males who seemed to butt heads at every turn. Plus, her partner was still pissed off because she was going with him. Lord.

  * * * *

  Her eyes, shuttered by long black lashes, didn’t assure Gun his partner was sleeping. Asleep or not, he checked out the wild, curly hairdo that made her look a lot like a Barbie doll. Man, how sexy was she? Her lips always looked good enough to suck on, but today they were super pouty and slick-looking under pink lip stuff.

  He let his gaze drift off her lips to play around with her breasts. Nice, round breasts that jumped up to perch high under her black sweater. She had crossed her legs, and the red suede mini crawled high up on her trim thighs. Damn. Donavon was hot.

  “If you want something, Gun, you’ll have to ask for it.”

  He enjoyed the throaty laugh that accompanied her comment.

  “Lady, I never have to ask for it.” Ali’s soft laugh of derision said she wasn’t impressed. He leaned closer to her. “You snore, Donavon?”

  Her lashes fluttered up, her steady gaze revealing a somber mood. She had something to say, and he would give her plenty of room to say her piece.

  “I’m not asking if you snore. It doesn’t matter.”

  He wondered briefly why he pursued the damned woman so hard. Hell, didn’t matter. She was a momentary diversion. “It does matter. I want to know what to expect.”

  The calm of her voice didn’t show in her narrowed eyes. “Nothing.” She pushed on his shoulder. “In case you have forgotten, we’re going to be killing a man. Nothing else.”

  “You worried?”

  Her expression was bland and cold. “I’m not looking forward to it. But don’t get your shorts in a twist, Gun. I’m tattooed.”

  Tattooed. He quieted, understood what she had said. Donavon had made kills. “Yeah.”

  He curled his fingers around her wrist for a second before getting up. Not really knowing what to say to a woman on the subject, he walked to the front of the plane to play a hand of poker with Rance.

  The game had just gotten interesting when Ali decided to join them. She nudged his elbow. He moved over to make room for her at the small table.

  “Five-card stud okay with you, Donavon?”

  “Deal.”

  Gun shuffled the cards and watched her drink from his cup of coffee. The pink stuff showed up on the rim in the shape of her full lower lip.

  She looked at the cards he dealt her and fanned them in her fingers. “Wonderful hand, Gun.”

  Ali handled her cards with some skill, but he palmed several face cards undetected. He grinned at her after his third extraordinary hand. She tossed the cards down and walked back to the small sidebar near their seats.

  That suited Gun. He could use a cold drink and a nap before they refueled in Miami.

  “I’ll have one of those.”

  She handed him a bottle of Coke and a glass. “How long is the layover in Miami?”

  He shrugged. “An hour or so. Long enough to stretch our legs.”

  She swallowed her Coke. “I want to pick up some cigarettes.”

  He didn’t comment, but followed her back to their seats, settling in for a little shut-eye. She took out a black leather-bound notebook and studied her scribbling. Before putting his seat into a reclining position, he glanced at her profile. Donavon’s lips moved when she read.

  He dropped off quickly, only to be punched awake by Ali’s elbow to his arm
. “Damn it, Donavon. It’s not like I don’t need the sleep.”

  Her gaze openly questioned his validity as a human.

  “Who usually wakes you from one of these nightmares?”

  “Whoever’s in bed with me.” He hadn’t figured on being visited by the bogeyman in a short snooze. That normally happened when he was in a deep sleep.

  “Did I get rough?”

  “Yeah, but you let go of my arm quick enough when I bent your thumb back.”

  He worked his aching thumb and gave her a wry smile. “You almost tore the damned thing off.”

  Ali laughed and looked away for a second before turning to level her sexy blue gaze on him.

  “I pity your wife. You’re dangerous.” She rubbed her wrist.

  “My ex-wife’s waking our ex-attorney these days.” He glanced at her unadorned left hand. “So, what’s your story? Got some nonviolent guy worrying about you in some sweet little nest?”

  “I evicted him, the nest, and the dirty sheets.” Her lips were set in a resentful pink line. “He didn’t come back for his clothes until I tossed them over the balcony into the street.”

  “Hell, Donavon. The bastard was probably pissing down his leg.”

  Their moment of sharing ended and she went back to her notes, moving her lush lips a little and narrowing her eyes in an intent gaze. Gun inhaled with a kind of contentment he rarely experienced. Not surprising. He was with a woman who didn’t require anything but backup, and he could give her that.

  His contentment led to sleep with no horrors to freeze his blood or paralyze his legs. Just the smudged whining sound of jet engines and voices under water.

  “Gunnison. We’re in Miami.”

  Donavon crawled over him and stood in the aisle to tug on the hem of her mini. She wiggled her hips inches from his face before speaking to him.

  “You sure you want to go out there armed, Gun? We have security clearance, but these airport security people would love to nab a big boy like you.” She arched her brows in a sort of dare, checking her PPK in her handbag.

  “Stop, Donavon. You’re scaring me.” He yawned and patted her ass. “Practicing, are you?” She had the scent of a sexy woman about her, and he considered the payoff of getting in her pants. She fluffed her awesome hair and walked a few feet away.

  “Gun. You coming?”

  Shit. “Not yet.” He grinned at her. “Later, for sure.”

  Chapter 6

  Ali opened the pack of cigarettes she’d bought from the bandit vending machine. She pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it taking a tiny drag.

  Damn it!

  She couldn’t give in now. After weeks of stinky chewing gum and gallons of orange juice, she wouldn’t give up now.

  Not wanting him to know she was interested, she sipped her virgin Mary before looking around the bar for Gun. She caught sight of her partner where he browsed the magazines at a small newsstand. His lean physique looked damned fine. The tailored black slacks he wore hardly disguised his admirable buns. He touched the front of his jacket several times in an absent manner.

  Ali read the tension in his body language. Out in the world without his weapon must be a nightmare for him. He probably slept with the thing between his thighs or cradled in his arms. He wore it like another appendage. He felt naked without the cold weight of steel. Several young women gawked at him, probably thinking he was way too cool. Sure, they were right. The guy was a babe. That impression lasted until you became acquainted with the devil.

  He took several magazines from the stand and smiled at the giggling girls. Son-of-a-bitch. Was nothing beneath him? The realization that he never flirted with her galled Ali. Not that it meant diddly to her.

  He walked to the bar and sidled up next to her. She stared at him as he tossed the magazines onto the counter and drank from her glass.

  “Got you Playgirl and Back Door Johnnie magazines.” He motioned for the bartender and ordered a bloody virgin. “I kind of favor Better Gardening.”

  Ali didn’t really see humor in his comment. “When do you get serious about our work?”

  “When it’s time.” He drained his glass and laid several bills on the bar. “The plane’s probably ready to go.”

  She took another whiff of the cigarettes before crumpling the pack in her fist. “Let’s go. I saw Rance heading out the door.”

  Gun picked up his magazines and grabbed her hand. She stopped cold and frowned at him.

  “What the hell is up with you, Gun?”

  He didn’t answer, only hugged her waist tight and walked her quickly through the terminal. “Listen, I just got serious about my work.”

  “Knock it off. You have my skirt up to my ass.”

  “Shut up. We’re being tailed.”

  Ali didn’t turn around. If he was telling the truth, she had to act the part of his bimbo. He practically carried her across the gleaming tile floor and out to the hot tarmac. He let her go and turned around to scan the faces still visible in the distance. She had stopped walking, but he motioned for her to get on the plane.

  “What’s up? I won’t be mad just because you felt me up in front of complete strangers.”

  He shrugged and followed her, boosting her up the steps with a hand on her ass.

  Her warning look drew a foxy smile from him. “Gotta get used to me touching you, Barbie doll.”

  He was almost cute in his mean-as-hell attitude. But not so cute she didn’t want to slap him silly. “Don’t do that again.”

  “What?” He took the magazines from her hand and handed her a fresh pack of cigarettes. “Lighten up.”

  While they fastened their safety belts, he leaned over to smile at her. “There were two thugs checking out your ass. I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “Stop blowing smoke, Gun. You’re a natural-born liar, like most men.” She grabbed one of the magazines and turned her back on him.

  “Hey.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I think you’re under the impression you’re irresistible.”

  She set her face in a cold mask and shook his arm from her shoulder. It was time the devil learned he was not the master of the game and she could tell fascinating lies, too.

  “You’re right, Gun.” She flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips. “I have been awfully tight-assed. Just had to be sure you were okay with everything about me. You know, the real me. My being tattooed puts a lot of guys off. Leary of me, I guess.”

  As she’d hoped, he seemed to be all ears, turning toward her.

  “So, what are we talking about here?” He opened the cigarettes and took two out, lighting them with an old-fashioned flint lighter. “You like killing?”

  He handed her one of the lit cigarettes and drew on his.

  “That and other things.” She gazed at the small stream of smoke rising from the cigarette, grateful they were allowed to smoke on the private jet. She was trying really hard to give them up, but Gun made her crave them.

  His ebony brows lifted slightly. “Larceny?”

  “That and some jewelry recoveries I couldn’t account for.”

  Gun blew smoke rings above her head and smiled at her. “Don’t tell me you got caught making it with a detainee.”

  “Made it with him and let him escape.”

  “Go on.” His dark gaze played over her face like a searchlight while he took a deep drag on his cigarette.

  “The bureau only kept me on to use in the bunko squad. I was given a second chance in St. Louis.”

  He stubbed his cigarette out and laughed. “That guy you let escape. Ever hear from him?”

  Ali took a puff of her cigarette. “Let’s forget about him. I want to get into my bimbo character after we’re in the air.” She leaned back and propped her heels on the armrests of the seat in front of her.

  Gun eyed her with a wry smile. “I can hardly wait.” He nodded and pressed his shoulder against hers. “You lie almost as good as me.”

  Ali held her laugh back, deeply amused by his che
ck and re-check of her legs. She wondered if he was more of a leg man than an ass man. All of the above, but more partial to ass, she decided.

  The plane lifted off the ground, and her fate was sealed, meshed with Gun’s until they were picked up by Black Bird agents at extraction point zero.

  The momentary concern evaporated, and her professional calm took over. Gum. She devoted a long time to unwrapping three sticks under Gun’s steady gaze. Licking her lips, she slowly folded the fragrant, fruity-smelling gum into her open mouth and began to chew. She looked at him through half-closed eyes and exhaled as if she had just reached climax.

  His midnight eyes were shuttered as he leaned close to her. “Is this your other personality?”

  “Are you crazy? That only happens during stakeouts or during a risky sweep, say, like, a drug dealer’s crib.” She snapped the gum in her back teeth several times. “No, this one is your lady friend from Miami. Out for a good time.”

  He grabbed his crotch as she released her seatbelt and crawled over him. “You wanna watch where you plant those knees?”

  “Okay, Gun.” She struck a pose fit for any gun moll and flounced her hair several times, turning her back to him. “Is this it?”

  Spreading her legs in a stiff stance, Ali leaned over to check her thigh-high stockings. She could see his dirty little mind churning as she looked at him between her legs. Straightening, she walked down the aisle toward the front section, swishing her hips from side to side.

  The stripper anthem played in the back of her mind as she walked back to him. She shimmied her shoulders and blew a bubble with her gum. “How’s that?”

  “How’s what? I wasn’t looking.”

  She grabbed the magazine from his hand and slapped the top of his head. “You didn’t miss anything.”

  “Let’s play tourist now.” He accidentally grazed the underside of her breasts, helping her climb back over him to her seat.

  She didn’t mind getting in some practice on her Spanish. “I’m game. You start.”

  He faced her and then touched a curl that moved around her earlobe. Her attention riveted on his mouth, and she loved his deep, foggy voice. “Hola, hermosa. ¿Cómo se llama?” Hello, beautiful. What is your name?