Lethal (44 page)

Then she forcibly composed herself. She wiped her face and took several deep breaths, and when she felt more in control, she stood up and walked toward the door. She left the room, saying, “Let yourselves out. I need to check on my son.”

D
id you?”

“Did I what?

“Like the way I…” Honor let the unfinished question hang.

Coburn turned his head and looked at her. “No. I was faking it. Couldn’t you tell?”

She smiled shyly and burrowed her face into his chest.

He gathered her close. “I liked it.”

“Better than a sneeze or a cough?”

“Can I think about that and get back to you?”

She laughed softly.

They had moved from the floor to the bed and were lying with their legs entwined. Lightly she blew on the chest hair tickling her nose. “What was its name?”

“What?”

“The horse you had to shoot. You’d named it. What was its name?”

He glanced down at her, then away. “I forgot.”

“No you didn’t,” she said softly.

He lay perfectly still and said nothing for the longest time, then, “Dusty.”

She propped her fist on his breastbone and rested her chin on her fist, and looked into his face. He held out for several moments, then lowered his gaze to her. “Every day when I got home from school, he’d amble over to the fence like he was glad to see me. He liked me, I think. But only because I fed him.”

She reached up and ran her thumb along the line of his chin. “I doubt that was the only reason he liked you.”

He made an indifferent motion with his shoulder. “He was a horse. What did he know?” Then he turned to face her and said, “Dumb thing to be talking about.” He tugged on a strand of her hair, then studied it thoughtfully as he rubbed it between his fingers. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you. It’s seen better days.”

“You’re pretty.”

“Thanks again.”

He took in all the features of her face, but eventually his eyes rested on hers. “You hadn’t been with anybody since Eddie.”

“No.”

“It felt good to me. But I think it might have hurt you.”

“A little at first. Then it didn’t.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

In a husky whisper, she said, “Neither did I.”

It was a difficult admission to make, but it was the truth. She was glad that thoughts of Eddie hadn’t intruded upon the moment, although even if they had, they wouldn’t have stopped her from being with Coburn.

Two men, two entirely different experiences. Eddie had been a wonderful and ardent lover, and she would cherish
forever sweet memories of him. But Coburn had a distinct advantage. He was alive, warm, virile, and inclining toward her now.

His kiss was languid and sexy. Their hands explored. She discovered scars on him that she kissed in spite of his mild protests. He called her depraved when she brushed her tongue across his nipple, but also claimed to be a big fan of depravity. Her hand glided over the hard muscles of his abdomen and followed the tapering shape of his body down to his sex.

“Do that thing with your thumb,” he whispered. She did as requested, and when she picked up moisture, he groaned a litany of swear words.

His fingertips went unerringly to her most sensitive places that, when he stroked them, left her breathless. She became hot and achy in her center again and moved against him in shameless appeal. He lowered his head to her breasts, where he took his time, loving them with his mouth.

He raised her arm above her head and kissed the sensitive underside, then down her rib cage, gradually turning her until she was on her stomach. He moved her hair aside and softly bit the back of her neck, then started pecking kisses down her spine.

His breath was warm against her skin when he released a short laugh. “My oh my. Who would have guessed?”

Knowing what he had discovered, she said primly, “You didn’t corner the market on tats.” She had spent several minutes admiring the barbed wire encircling his biceps.

“No, but a tramp stamp? On a second-grade schoolteacher? I can remember my second-grade teacher, and I seriously doubt she had one.” He leaned down and took her earlobe between his teeth. “But it makes me hot as hell to think about it. What inspired you?”

“Two Hurricanes at Pat O’Brien’s. Eddie and I spent a three-day weekend in New Orleans while Stan kept Emily.”

“You got drunk?”

“Tipsy. I was easily persuaded.”

Coburn had kissed his way down and now his tongue was drawing tantalizing circles around her tattoo. “What is it?”

“A Chinese symbol. Maybe Japanese. I can’t remember.” She moaned with pleasure. “In fact, with you doing that, I can’t even think.”

“No? What happens when I do this?” He worked his hand between her and the mattress and began massaging her from the front, while he settled heavily upon her back. “That day in your bathroom…” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “When I had you up against the door.”

“Um-hum.”

“This is what I wanted to be doing. Touching you… here.”

What he was doing caused her breathing to turn choppy, but she managed to say, “I was very afraid.”

“Of me?”

“Of what you would do.”

“To hurt you?”

“No, to make me feel like I do now.”

He stilled. “Is that the truth?”

“Shamefully, yes.”

“Turn over,” he growled.

He helped her onto her back, then knelt between her legs and rubbed his lips over her belly. He planted soft kisses on her hipbone and the hollow beneath it. Then nuzzled lower.

“Coburn?”

“Shh.”

His palm settled between her hipbones, and his fingertips caressed her belly while his thumb dipped down to separate and stoke. Then he deep-kissed her. The dual caress of mouth and thumb soon had her gasping his name and begging him with her arching body not to stop.

He didn’t. But he was inside her when she climaxed, inside her when she felt his own release, and when she finally regained the strength to open her eyes, he was still there, cupping her face between his hands and stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs.

The intensity of his expression caused her to tentatively ask, “What?”

“I’ve never been a big fan of the missionary position.”

Not quite sure how to respond to that, she said simply, “Oh.”

“I preferred making it any other way.”

“Why?”

“Because it didn’t have anything to do with getting off.”

“What didn’t?”

“Looking into the woman’s face.” He murmured the statement as though puzzled by it.

Her throat grew tight. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “You wanted to look into mine?”

He continued to stare into her eyes for several moments, then pulled away from her so abruptly that the emotional withdrawal was as definitive as the physical separation.

Reluctant to let that happen, she followed him, turning onto her side toward him. He lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, suddenly but completely detached.

She spoke his name.

He turned only his head toward her.

Quietly she said, “When this is over, I’ll never see you again, will I?”

He waited for a beat or two, then gave an abrupt negative shake of his head.

“Right,” she whispered, smiling ruefully. “I didn’t think so.”

He returned to his study of the ceiling, and she thought that would be the end of it. Then he said, “I guess that changes your mind about this.”

“This?”

“Fucking me. But you knew what you were getting,” he said as though she’d disputed him. “Or you should have known. I haven’t made a secret of who I am, what I’m like. And, yeah, I’ve wanted you naked from the minute I saw you, and I made no secret of that either.

“But I’m not a hearts and flowers guy. I’m not even an all-night guy. I don’t hold hands. I don’t cuddle…” He paused, swore. “I don’t do any of that stuff.”

“No, all you’ve done is risk your life to save mine. More than once.”

He turned his head and looked at her.

“You repeatedly asked me why I left the garage,” she said. “Now I want to ask you something. Why were you coming back to it?”

“Huh?”

“You had told me that if you didn’t return within a few minutes of ten o’clock, I was to drive away and get as far from Tambour as possible. So, for all you knew, that’s what I had done. After nearly dying in that explosion, with a burn on your shoulder, and your hair singed, you could have run in any given direction in order to get away, but you didn’t. When you found me on the railroad tracks, you were racing back to the garage. To me.”

He didn’t say anything, but his jaw tensed.

She smiled and moved closer to him, aligning her body along his. “You don’t have to give me flowers, Coburn. You don’t even have to hold me.” She laid her head on his chest just below his chin. Her hand curved around his neck. “Let me hold you.”

D
iego held the edge of his razor to Bonnell Wallace’s Adam’s apple.

Wallace was proving to be a stubborn son of a bitch.

Getting into the house had been easier than Diego had anticipated. The alarm hadn’t been set, so he hadn’t had to strike immediately and then run like hell to get away before the cops showed up. Instead, he’d been able to sneak in and get the layout of the house before Wallace knew he was there.

He thought he’d caught every break, until he realized that Wallace was in the study in the front of the house where he’d seen him the night before, in plain view of anyone who happened by on the street.

The soundtrack of a television show had covered his footsteps as he’d climbed the curved staircase. The second floor had bedrooms along both sides of a long hallway, but Diego soon discovered the one that belonged to the master of the house. The gray pinstripe suit that Wallace had worn
to the bank that day had been slung over the back of an easy chair. His dress shoes were in the center of the floor, his necktie lying on the foot of his giant bed.

Diego had made himself at home inside the walk-in closet. A long hour and a half had elapsed before Wallace came upstairs.

From inside the closet Diego had heard the chirps of the security system as Wallace punched in the code numbers to set it for the night. Which posed a problem, of course. It meant that Diego couldn’t get out of the house without tripping the alarm. But he’d decided not to worry about that until the time came. First he’d had to figure out how to overpower a man who was twice his size.

Wallace had obliged him. As soon as he’d entered the bedroom, he’d headed for the adjacent bathroom and unzipped. He’d used both hands to aim.

Diego had come up behind him, placed one hand on his forehead and jerked it back at the same time he pressed his razor to the banker’s exposed throat. Wallace had cried out, not so much in fear as from shock. Reflexively he’d reached behind him with both hands and tried to twist around to ward off his attacker. Pee had sprayed the wall behind the commode.