It Happens in Threes Page 7

  He penetrated inch by inch, stretching her. Her eyes widened at every thrust. She couldn’t believe Michael pushed her toward the brink again.

  Every stroke, long and hot, followed by a hard thrust and an excruciatingly slow withdrawal. She could take no more. Raising herself up on her elbows, a major feat when all her muscles felt like soft silk flowing over bones, she demanded, “In—now—finish!”

  He slammed into her, gave her every inch, hard and urgent. She careened over the peak with his name pouring from her lips. The rainstorm of liquid heat streamed from her once again. Her muscles contracted, squeezed, and gripped around him as he thrust into her until she felt him stiffen, arch, and convulse with his own climax.

  Michael rested his head on her breasts. The feel of his warm shallow breath flowing over her sweat slicked skin caused her to shiver and smile with fulfillment.

  His head pillowed against Ruby, her fingers stroked up and down his back. Raising his head to see her, he saw the satisfied gleam in her eyes. She grinned, the cat that ate a cage of canaries. He felt the rumbling of her purring.

  “I must be squishing you.” Keeping an arm around her waist, Michael rolled onto his back, pulled her snug to his side.

  Her leg stretched across his hips, shifting her closer. “I thought you were going to kill me and you’re worried about squishing me.”

  Turning to his side, he provided her a wolfish grin. “No, but I might eat you alive.”

  Her breath caught. He watched the red flush her cheeks and expand to her chest. She was damn cute when she blushed.

  “You have such an appetite and...and...”

  “Yes?”

  “Uh. Brother Jonathan, I think he would be more aptly named ‘Big John’.”

  Leaning down, he took the closest nipple in his lips and chuckled. Removing the fingers twining in his chest hair, he slid it lower filling her hand with him. “You mean that?”

  When she pulled her hand back as if it brushed against a flame, he laughed.

  “You can’t be...I mean it’s too soon...we just...” she trailed off as curiosity got the best of her. Her slender fingers wrapped around him, taking his full weight and length, stroking it slow and repeated.

  A low lusty growl erupted from his chest. “It’s your fault. You do this to me. You’re small and tight and fit just perfect.” Perfect, he thought, for him.

  Searing need blazed in his belly, a need to brand her as his.

  His hands cupped the bare, rounded flesh of her bottom. When his fingers found the narrow strip of golden hair between her legs, he sank one then two fingers inside her, explored her. Ruby gasped. He found her ready. “And wet.”

  With the pad of his thumb, he massaged the sensitive spot between Ruby’s thighs creating friction that had her squirming.

  Ruby spread her legs wide and tipped her hips to receive him. He accepted the invitation with a swift powerful motion, burying himself in her depths, extracting a startled shriek from her.

  Her head thrown back, her neck arched. She wrapped silky legs around his hips. Unable to hold back, he pounded into her with savage thrusts, wringing every last sigh from her ravaged lips. Bucking beneath him as he unleashed her screaming orgasm, she bit his shoulder. The violent act had him following, his climax tearing a guttural wail from his ecstasy, as he surged into her one last time.

  Depleted and panting, his chest heaved looking for air.

  “Ruby,” he whispered before they succumbed to exhaustion.

  * * * *

  In the darkness of night, Michael stirred and moved. As his weight shifted, Ruby grumbled, and he pulled the covers over her. The moon reflected off the soft, elegant curve of her shoulder, beckoning him, the beacon of a lighthouse guiding a sailor home.

  Lying in bed with her curled up next to him, his fingers traced the outline of the sensuous shape of her naked body. He watched the woman who was a combination of brains, beauty, and stubbornness. A challenge to him. Always had been.

  It was the word ‘challenge’ that triggered his gray matter. Ruby was in search of a job with a challenge that offered her more and he needed a computer expert to catch a thief. The idea pierced his thoughts as the woman spooned next to him had his heart.

  After mulling over his brainstorm, he grazed her shoulder with a goodbye kiss, and with reluctance dragged himself from the warm bed, pulled on his shorts, and left the room.

  As he walked out, he turned to take one last peak. “A man would have to be crazy not to want you for his own.”

  He had been one of the crazy men who hadn’t wanted her, but that was a long time ago. They had been too young. He was saner now. Things were different. He wouldn’t let her go, he would protect her. That’s why before he left he made a phone call.

  NINE

  Michael knew he was sitting in George’s house because no one else would drink morning coffee in quart-size cappuccino mugs at an oval, 16th century, dark cherry kitchen table. It was the only way his supervisor could get kick started. Sunlight streamed in through the windows on the East side producing a warm glow against the pale yellow paint and the mint green ruffle curtains, the handiwork of George’s late wife.

  George Trent had worked for the government in some capacity for more than half his life. Michael trusted him. He’d been a Director for ten years, his supervisor and longtime mentor. One of his first acts was to appoint a team of special operatives. Michael had been his first selection and George was grooming him to take the reins when his time for retirement came.

  “Mickey, you just returned, you’re still waiting for your next post to be assigned. Why are you sitting in my kitchen in the wee hours of the morning?” he grumbled. “Not that I mind the company, but you agreed to take some ‘R and R’.”

  “I am,” Michael groaned with irritation, staring into his coffee. George threatened him into taking a vacation. Told him if he didn’t take it, he was on mandatory leave.

  “Let’s discuss the French pain in the ass.” Referring to Nicolas La Rue, an international businessman, humanitarian, philanthropist and exceptional thief. Michael hadn’t learned anything concrete. He was operating on speculation and assumptions. Fortunately, he believed in his instincts and so did George.

  “I know someone that may be able to help us. She’s been in the software industry for as long as you’ve been my supervisor and is a subject matter expert. She’s written hacking prevention software for companies, including financial institutions in the past. Even in elementary school she played with computers.”

  “She?” George arched a brow, rubbed his all-knowing chin. “Is she an operative? Does she have any experience working with government teams?”

  “No, she’s not an operative, and don’t give me that look.” The guy was way too insightful for Michael’s comfort. “Yes, she’s worked as a government contractor to the Department of Defense. Currently she’s independent and at the moment looking to find something else. I believe my proposal would be perfect for her, not to mention beneficial for us.”

  Leaning back in the chair, his legs extended, fingers entwined across his stomach, George eyed him. “I’m all ears. What do you think she can do?”

  “My strategy is to have her develop an application to trap the Frenchman at his own game. The program will trace where the money is transferred giving us all the evidence we need to nab him and put him away. She can confirm the possibility much more than I.”

  “Have you spoken with her about this yet? Does she know what your profession is? Does she have an interest in working with us, with the government?”

  “I thought it best to run the idea past you in person so you knew I was serious before I approached her.” He hadn’t discussed the plan with Ruby. She had been sleeping when the inspiration hit him and he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. The lady deserved some rest after he wore her out.

  As his mind wandered to Ruby, a sly smile crossed his lips. For a minute, he relived the velvet heat of her kiss, the way she surrendered and bu
rned under his masterful seduction. She radiated in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

  Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present.

  “Since Alex disappeared, we don’t have another team member with her skills.”

  “Is that what this is about? I thought you were going to leave the matter to others who were more neutral and dispassionate.”

  “This has nothing to do with him,” Michael declared. “I only mentioned his name to make a point. Our team is lacking in its members. I’m not talking a full-time gig for her, just a contract opportunity to help us on this one job. It’s a totally behind the scenes type of involvement. So what do you think?”

  “If your assessment of her capabilities is on target it would be worth pursuing further discussion with her in person. How soon can you get her here?”

  Michael practically bounded out of his chair. “I’ll make a call.”

  Before Michael exited the kitchen, George asked him, “Does our new contract agent have a name?”

  “What? Oh, her name’s Ruby Goodman.”

  * * * *

  Stirring from a peaceful sleep, eyes still closed to the world, her body felt the effects from last night. Ruby stretched, expecting to find a warm, hard body next to her. Instead, her hands made contact with a very cool sheet. Startled full awake, she turned over in the bed and blinked at the empty space.

  No. He wouldn’t do this to her, again. He couldn’t.

  He must be in the shower. Vulnerable and exposed, she wrapped the sheet around herself, checked the bathroom and saw no sign of him.

  She called out his name. No response. Frustrated, she ran her fingers through her hair as she stared stunned out the front window. Michael’s rental car was gone and so was her heart.

  Ruby shook her head in disbelief. “No way. This can’t be happening. He wouldn’t do this. He promised.” But his absence substantiated her suspicion.

  Stomping around the house, her hands in tight little balls, she launched into an exhaustive tirade of Michael’s virtues. “The spineless, no-good, controlling, reprehensible, lower-than-pond-scum, secret agent man, Brother Jonathan seducer, who can’t even say ‘it was fantastic’, or ‘I’ll call you’, or ‘goodbye’, or leave a lousy note.”

  Halting in front of the bed, Ruby saw the remnants of their lovemaking. Deflated and beat, she picked up the swimsuit that lay in a pool on the floor, coiling it around itself and her hands.

  “Just wait. When I get a hold of him, I’ll teach him to mess with my body and my emotions. I’ll wring his neck with my bare hands. Better yet, I’ll twist other body parts. It’ll be the last time he coerces me into bed, controls me with sex, and then abandons me without a word.”

  * * * *

  Careful no one observed him, he got out of the car, and made his way to the perimeter of the house. To be safe, he checked the potential entrances of the home. One could never be too cautious in his line of work. He wanted no surprises. After validating all areas were secure, he moved back to the front door, reaching it at the same time as a delivery guy. It was a perfect opportunity for an easy entry. Taking the long white box, careful not to crush it, he tipped him, and then knocked on the door.

  No one answered.

  Trying the knob, he found it locked. “So much for the simple approach,” he mumbled. Tucking the box under his arm, he pulled out his tools, and let himself in.

  “Knock, knock. Anybody home?” Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Hello? Delivery.”

  No answer.

  He stepped further into the house. Shutting the door behind him, he listened. A shower was running. He started toward its source then heard a thunderous thud, some swearing, and a scream.

  His heart raced. His weapon unholstered, he gripped the black Glock and the white box. Without pausing to knock, he burst into the bathroom with enough force and intensity to splinter the door.

  The scream rent the air with its shrillness.

  His weapon in the ready position, he was unprepared for the vision in front of him, almost tripping over the figure that lay in a heap on the floor. Frozen in his tracks, he saw the cause for the entire racket. A naked blonde, with arms and legs flailing, a towel twisted around her feet. She swore like a sailor.

  Her heart was going to burst from her chest and shatter like the door. The man dressed in black that came through it brought up a hand, exposing a gun. A big one. Holy shit! What should she do? Frantic, she looked around, searched for a weapon. Anything.

  She tried to get to her feet. Tangled in the towel, she kept slipping on the wet tile floor. Her fear interfered with her efforts and attempt at modesty.

  “Who...who are you? What do you want?”

  The gigantic guy started toward her. When he bent down, she gave a swift kick in his gut. The cowboy’s hat went flying. Grunting in pain, his eyes drew together in an agonized expression. Good, she thought. Then she scrambled away, like a crab on her hands and feet.

  “It’s okay,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I’m not…”

  “Stay away from me! Don’t come any closer or I’ll really hurt you.”

  Amusement flickered in the pale green eyes that met hers. Shaking, she got to her feet, and stumbled against the counter. Making contact with her hip, she yelped in pain.

  “Ruby, please…”

  He knew her name. She whirled around to face him. A curling iron in one hand, blow dryer in the other, Ruby backed away from the danger that threatened her.

  “Move one inch and you’ll be singing soprano.” Her voice shakier than she wanted, Ruby thought she pulled off the threat.

  “Little lady, if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. See.” He raised his shiny black gun for her view then placed it in his shoulder holster. A wave of relief swept through her, although questions still remained.

  “My philosophy is, never bring a hair appliance to a gun fight.”

  His sarcastic southern drawl both annoyed and comforted.

  “I’m not the enemy. I even come bearing gifts.” He extended the semi-crushed, white box with the big red bow to her. “He must be a really special guy to send long stem roses. You want it?”

  Michael? Would he send flowers after sneaking out in the middle of the night? “No. You open it.”

  The green-eyed giant shrugged in mock resignation, then tugged at the red bow. She watched him warily as he untied the ribbon with his big hands. Lifting the lid from the package, he opened it, revealing its contents to her.

  Ruby took one glimpse, terror seized her like a vice gripping at her heart.

  “Ruby?”

  Reaching for the box with trembling hands, she managed to pull the blue note out. It read, ‘Dying flowers for a dying love.’

  She choked back a cry, the paper drifted to the floor. Looking up at the pale green eyes on the tall chestnut haired man, shock and fear, like she’d never known, coursed through her. Something clicked in her mind.

  Not Michael. Thomas, she thought with fearful clarity. Did Thomas send this guy for her? And what was he going to do? She shivered in her skin.

  Determined to find a way out, she imposed an iron control on her panic, and gathered the courage of a condemned man.

  * * * *

  His gaze darted from the paper in her hand to her flushed face. He hissed sharply when he noticed the color drain from her cheeks, leaving a ghostly pale in its wake. Looking as though she was going to faint, he dropped the box and reached for her.

  His hands on her bare shoulders, she looked up at him with intense gold topaz eyes and a quirk of her lips. Just as he wondered why she was grinning, the next instant he found out.

  She yelled, “Hiya!” as her knee made intimate and harsh contact with his groin.

  “What the hell?” he growled in pain as he grabbed his family jewels seeking to prevent further damage. “Are you crazy? Why would…”

  His question was cutoff as her head rammed into his chin. Teeth rattled, and eyes rolled back in his head. He lost
his balance, slipped on the wet floor, collided with the shower door, and plopped down on the hard ceramic with a thud.

  It happened in slow motion. He couldn’t believe it. The little blonde thing nailed him, but good, and left him as she ran out of the room. Naked. She wasn’t going very far.

  While getting to his feet, feeling downright embarrassed being knocked down by a woman, he glimpsed dried petals next to the white glossy box. Yanking off the lid, he saw the dead flower bouquet and scowled.

  “Jeezy peters.” Rubbing hands on his face, he stared at the floor in amazement. Then he saw the piece of paper. Snatching it up, he read. His fist clenched, crushed the note in his hand, and sent it sailing across the room, then went in search of Ruby.

  Just as he figured. Ruby hadn’t gone very far. She was in the kitchen trying to punch numbers into the phone when he moved in behind her. He grabbed hold of her arms, held her tight, and snatched the receiver from her hands.

  Struggling against his hold, she screeched at him. “Let me go. You won’t get away with this.”

  “Ruby, cut it out,” he ground out through gritted teeth. The woman was grinding her ass into his front side.

  The next thing he knew she was still as stone and absolutely quiet.

  “Thank you. Now, I was trying to…”

  She cut off his words when she stomped her heel onto his foot. “Damn!” Releasing her, he grabbed his foot and wheezed out, “What’d you do that for?”

  She snatched a butcher’s knife from its wooden holder and shook it at him. “Stay away from me. My fiancé will be back any minute. He just stepped out to run an errand.”

  He raised a brow and grinned. “Really? Let’s call him and see how long he’ll be gone, shall we?” When he reached for his cellular phone on his belt clip she surged forward with the knife. With the ease of a professional, he pulled his gun.

  “Don’t you learn? A gun beats rock, paper, scissors, and knife. Now stand there and shut up while I make a phone call.”

  She stood still, absolutely still, her hazel gaze on his weapon. A stiff wind couldn’t have blown her over.