Cold Snap, page 22
Brynn snorted. “I’m more of a death-by-chocolate person willing to sell my soul for a piece of three-layer chocolate ganache cake.” She bit her lip. “But I am willing to share.”
Grady dragged his eyes away from Brynn’s lush bottom lip. Cleared the lust from his throat. “You heard the lady,” he told the server. “And better bring a couple of spoons—in case I get lucky.”
36
“Want to get out of that dress, first?” Ryan didn’t know where Donnelly had come up with the little black number she was wearing at such short notice, but the sooner she climbed into tactical pants and a shirt the better.
“Yeah, but we need to be fast. We might not have that much time.”
He gripped her hand as she pushed through the door into the hotel. He carried their bag of food in the other. Waste not, want not. After all, steak was steak.
They hurried up the stairs like two people on a mission to bang as fast and hard as possible.
Heat poured off him even though he knew this was theater. Playacting for the public.
They reached their room, and he quickly opened the door. Once inside and hidden from view, he released her hand and placed the food on the side.
She shut the door as he reached into his pocket, grabbed the electronic surveillance detector that TacOps had recently come up with, and turned it on.
It identified even those energetically inert devices that only transmitted intermittently. Novak wanted to be certain no one was spying on their operation.
“Anything?” Donnelly had kicked off the dainty heels and stood with her hands on her hips, which unfortunately drew his attention to her figure.
“Nothing.” He went into the bathroom as much to get away from her as to check for more bugs. “All clear. What about our stuff. Anyone mess with it?”
They’d unpacked some casual clothes and toiletries into the wardrobe and bathroom to look like real tourists. They’d also placed some of their gear—couple of burner phones, their fake passports, in the hotel safe that a three-year-old could crack. Their government issue tactical gear, electronics, and weaponry, they left inside specially designed suitcases.
He watched Donnelly run a wand over the hotel safe panel and then over the lock on the cases. It scanned for fingerprints and would alert the user if the pattern differed from the last time it had been checked.
“All good.”
His eyes almost bugged out of his head when she put the wand down and turned away from him, whipping off her dress and pulling on a black, long-sleeved shirt and then black pants.
His mouth went so dry it fused into one solid block. She had long lines and sleek muscles, and a tattoo peeked out from a pair of black sheer panties that were barely bigger than a handkerchief.
He ignored his little brain, threw off his hat and shirt, and tossed them on the nearest chair. He opened the drawer and dragged out a plain black shirt like the one Donnelly wore. His and hers. They were on a mission and not a vacation, so that was okay.
He turned around quickly and caught Donnelly staring.
He raised a brow. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Ready?”
She placed her weapon in a pancake holster at the small of her back. “Ready.”
He tossed her a ski mask. “In case they set up a camera inside their room.”
They pulled on nitrile gloves before heading out. When he was sure it was clear, he opened the door for Donnelly, and she stepped out. They moved in unison down the corridor. The Russians were down a floor and on the other side of the hotel.
It was early in the evening, and the hotel was quiet with a lot of people leaving early ahead of this storm and others cancelling, presumably for the same reason.
The hotelier was not happy about the fact, bemoaning the economy and the weather with equal ferocity. Ryan had regaled him with tales of ranching cattle when it was minus thirty outside and the price of beef kept dropping. The guy had finally stopped complaining, but Ryan figured not for long. Harry Butler was a whiner by nature, but would be easy to bribe if the need arose. Always good to know.
They reached the room, and Donnelly blocked the view from one side as he made short work of the lock.
“Misspent youth?” she asked.
He raised his eyes to her dark brown ones. “Misspent life.”
They both pulled the ski masks over their faces before they slipped inside.
He held up his hand to signal a halt. He wanted to get a feel for the room first. There were clothes strewn over the back of a chair. A laptop and a few paperback guidebooks on the side.
He pulled out his bug detector as his cell buzzed. Checked it. “They just left the golf club.”
Donnelly’s brows knitted.
Did the Russians know they were in their room, or was it a coincidence they’d left the restaurant the exact same moment he and Donnelly stepped inside?
The gadget didn’t show any surveillance devices in play.
Donnelly began to carefully go through the drawers. Ryan stopped her before she opened the bottom drawer. Pointed to the hair draped over one of the knobs. He picked it up and held it while she carefully looked through the contents, a couple of T-shirts. She felt beneath. Nothing.
She replaced the drawers, and he gently draped the hair back over the knob. Rudimentary and old-fashioned, but definite tradecraft.
These weren’t a couple of tourists on a sightseeing vacation, but that didn’t explain who they were or what they were really doing here.
He and Donnelly searched for another five minutes but found nothing out of the ordinary.
Donnelly tugged his shirt. “We need to go.”
“We’re missing something.” He stared around the room and then spotted something under the window frame and crossed the floor.
He peered outside.
The occupants had hung a plastic bag out of the window. He hooked the bag with a gloved finger and lifted the sash.
He and Donnelly peered inside at a small perfume bottle. Donnelly frowned and went to pick it up. Ryan caught her hand.
“Remember what happened to Sergei Skripel and his daughter.”
“You think that’s Novichok?” Donnelly looked shocked.
Ryan shrugged. “Who the hell hangs perfume out the window?”
Her brown eyes assessed his. “What do we do?”
As much as he wanted to take it. Neutralize it. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not without running it by his boss first.
“Photograph it. Quickly.”
Donnelly took shots from as many angles as she was safely able with her cell.
Then, with extreme care, Ryan hung the bag back outside the window while Donnelly drew the sash down. “Let’s get out of here.”
His heart hammered as they strode back to their room. Sweat slicked down his spine.
Once inside, he called Novak. “You need to get the team together. We have a situation.”
37
Brynn was stuffed and having more fun than she could remember in a long time. Grady was amusing, attentive, seductive. And he’d been out looking for a stray dog last night, not getting into some other woman’s panties.
She sighed contentedly.
The chocolate cake she’d consumed was the closest she’d come to sex in the past couple of years, and that was a very sad state of affairs indeed.
She’d missed this, she realized.
She’d missed the excitement and thrill of a growing attraction. The slip and slide of anticipation. The anxious rollercoaster of emotions.
She thought she’d lost the capacity to enjoy it.
She thought she’d lost it for good.
He held her coat as she slipped her arms inside, and she felt a quiver of arousal licking at her senses.
She wasn’t sure what would happen next—and that was okay.
For once it was okay not to have her life planned out minute by minute, second by boring second.
He opened the car door for her, and then they stood there staring at each other with what felt a lot like wonder. The noise of more customers leaving the restaurant broke the spell, and he moved away and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Once inside, he cleared his throat. “Thanks for tonight, it was—”
She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her for a kiss that was anything but polite.
And this time he kissed her back. Dragged her against his chest and let his tongue tangle with hers.
He tasted like chocolate-flavored sin.
She was draped across the console, his one hand under her coat, gripping her ass, and his other hand sinking into her hair and tugging her head back so he had better access to her mouth.
He devoured her.
She groaned, and he growled right back.
It was ferocious.
It was ravenous.
It was divine.
He kissed her with the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. No sloppiness. No amateur groping. Just pure lustful sensation. She was desperate for more. Desperate to lose herself in the now rather than worry about the future or the past.
Her lips cruised his mouth, his neck. She felt him, hard and ready against her.
He swore and pulled away. “Not here.”
She drew back and blew out a shuddering breath.
“Not here,” she agreed.
He put the Jeep into gear as she drew her seatbelt around her.
She didn’t feel cold now. Not even close. Desire coiled inside her. Insistent. Demanding. Greedy.
Tension stretched taut.
Grady’s jaw clenched. His knuckles shone white as they held the steering wheel in a death grip. She half expected him to pull over in the woods somewhere so they could fuck like monkeys.
As if reading her mind he said, “I want you in a bed.”
She shivered at his words. She wanted him anywhere.
They passed a vehicle as they hit the town limits. Grady pumped the brakes. He looked pissed at the need to slow down.
She knew exactly how he felt. A shiver ran down her spine. Her skin felt like brushed velvet. Her nerves like live wires.
They passed the veterinarian clinic, and Brynn briefly glanced toward the building and wondered if the dog was okay with his enforced confinement.
A flicker of orange had her sitting up. “Stop.”
“What?” Grady turned to her in surprise with not a little disappointment in his voice.
“Stop. Go back. Go back to the animal clinic.”
He braked hard. “It’s closed.”
“I thought I saw something.” Dread wound through her, obliterating lust.
Grady didn’t argue, which she appreciated. He did a smooth U-turn and headed back to the clinic. “What did you see?”
“I don’t know.” Her mouth went dry. “I thought I saw a flicker of something inside.”
“A flicker?” he asked sharply.
She met his gaze. “A flame.”
He pressed his foot harder on the accelerator and floored it. They were at the clinic in seconds. Grady drove around the building and pulled up at the back. They both jumped out.
At first, she thought she’d made a stupid error. Maybe her subconscious was giving her an excuse to put a halt to the passion that had leapt between them. Then the scent of smoke had her taking a step forward.
“Call 911.” Grady was already jogging around the corner.
She grabbed her cell and stabbed in the numbers.
The operator answered as Grady reappeared, and she gave the woman the address and nature of the emergency. She watched Grady remove a weapon from an ankle holster and use the butt to smash the glass, before reaching through and unlocking the back door. She blinked in surprise at the fact he was armed, although she should have expected it.
Smoke billowed out of the doorway as he wedged the entryway open with a large planter.
He took off his coat, then ripped his shirt over his head and wrapped it around his lower face before pulling the leather jacket back on.
“Stay outside,” he warned. “I don’t want to have to go searching for you, too.”
Brynn stood there watching in horror as he disappeared into the burning building.
38
Flames licked the floor and walls of the reception area, the stench of gasoline prevalent even over the noxious fumes that filled the room. A smoke alarm started its high-pitched wail which, in turn, triggered the animals to cry out in distress.
Son of a fucking bitch.
The cacophony was ear numbing.
Coughing, he grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and opened it up to tackle the blaze. The blinds had ignited and the chairs, even the reception desk and papers that lined it and the walls.
The extinguisher quickly ran out but the flames kept leaping higher, into the roof tiles.
Shit.
He looked outside for signs of a fire truck but there was nothing.
“Fuck.”
He threw down the empty extinguisher and dashed back along the corridor, opening doors as he went. Kicking in those that were locked.
Most were empty. He finally reached the area where the animals were locked in cages. Some were obviously recovering from operations or procedures. Many were scratching at the metal bars of their cages in agitation.
Grady felt someone beside him.
“There are some carriers and leashes over here.” Brynn ran to the corner and tossed a small carrier at him.
Dammit. He didn’t want her in here.
“Let’s deal with the smaller animals first.” She’d found some gloves and was already reaching for a Siamese cat that meowed pitifully.
Grady pulled on a pair of full-length leather gloves that were resting on top of the cage. He reached inside and grabbed a hostile cat, placed it in the carrier, and slammed the door closed. They worked side-by-side, one animal at a time, trying not to traumatize them further but unable to wait for them to calm down as the smoke grew thicker. Both he and Brynn were coughing now.
“Take the cats outside.” He shouted. “I’ll start on the dogs. Stay outside.”
Most people were killed by smoke inhalation and not the fire itself. He didn’t want to put Brynn in more danger than necessary.
He couldn’t see the gray dog—his dog—anywhere but tried to ignore the panic.
Panic killed.
Brynn nodded and started lifting as many carriers as she was able to grip and headed outside the burning building.
Grady grabbed a leash and eyed a large German shepherd who was eyeing him back distrustfully. He spied a jar of what looked like cooked, cubed liver, and picked it up. Scooping out a handful of treats, he opened the cage and wrapped the leash around the dog’s neck to form a loop. None of the animals were wearing collars.
“I’ll take him.” Brynn was back and ready to help.
He pressed his lips together. No time to argue.
He handed her the leash. She coaxed the dog through the door and into the fresh air. She was back twenty seconds later with the leash.
He didn’t have time to ask questions. They quickly got all the dogs out of the one room, and he opened another door. In this area, many of the dogs looked to be sedated.
And there, in the corner, was his friend, sporting a brand-new haircut and anxious eyes.
“Grab our friend there. I’ll lift the others.”
The first was an old chocolate lab who was sleeping so heavily Grady at first worried she was dead until he touched her warm flank.
As he gently shifted his hands under her, she opened liquid brown eyes to stare at him.
He hurried into the cold, fresh air and laid the lab on the blanket Brynn had pulled out of his Jeep.
He looked around for the dogs and realized they were all inside the Jeep, sitting in seats and staring out like they were going on an adventure.
His lips quirked.
“Stay here with them,” he said. “I’ll fetch the others out.”
But she tied the gray dog to the rear bumper of the Jeep and followed him anyway.
The distant sound of a siren finally pierced the night, but the firefighters were too far away to help. The flames were spearing out of the roof now.
The heat was intense as they went back inside.
They ran into the last room again, crouching low to keep out of the smoke. Brynn wet a towel in the sink and wrapped it around her lower face as he lifted a three-legged dog that had a fresh incision on its rear end.
He was gentle, but it snarled at him and snapped. Grady ignored the teeth and the trembling fear and cradled it gently in his arms. Brynn held another. A puppy.
They hurried outside and laid the dogs down on the blanket. “Stay with them.” He rested a heavy arm on her shoulder and squeezed. “There’s only one left. I can handle him.”
“He’s big.” Brynn wanted to fight him.
“Stay here, or neither of us is going in.” He gentled his touch as the fire roared behind them. “These guys are going to need you when the fire truck pulls up and scares the shit out of them.”
“Hurry,” she said reluctantly.
He didn’t wait for more. He sprinted back into the building, felt the heat sear his flesh. Saw a beam fall in the reception area.
He skidded into the room and eyed the biggest dog he had ever seen in his life.
He opened the cage door and wrangled a leash around the mastiff’s neck, but the dog refused to budge.
Grady spied another jar of treats and fed the dog one. The dog ate it up, then another. Grady poured a small pile on the ground just outside the confines of the cage. The dog stood shakily.
“Come on, boy.” Grady didn’t know what the hell sex the mastiff was, but it didn’t matter. “Come on. I’ve got you.”
A squawk grabbed his attention. A parakeet flew around its cage. “Fuck.” This was the last run. The flames were too intense to come back after this. He saw a towel on the side. Opened the cage and used the towel to catch the bird. Grady wrapped it up and trapped the wriggling pecking scrapper under his arm.
