His bandages came loose in the shower and the wound burned like a hot brand. His injury was the least of his worries, but he'd have to take care of it all the same.
Lexi Stoltz was too smart for her own good, and too beautiful for his peace of mind. She'd seen the photograph he carried everywhere he went. When he was alone, he set it up beside his bed or sleeping bag or wherever he slept. He liked it to be the last thing he saw when he went to sleep and the first thing he saw when he woke. So he would never forget.
Pain helped him remember. It was his pain, his private pain. She had no business poking around in it. He didn’t want or need to share his grief or his guilt. Especially not with her. She'd invaded his most private place when she'd reached into that pain to put her hand on his shoulder.
An offer of comfort, sure, but he didn't want her damned comfort. When she'd almost touched the photo of Wendy and the boys….
It was wrong to let anyone touch it. Especially the first woman to stir a healthy lust in him since he’d lost them. And that was wrong, too. He had to keep her away from that sacred memory, that sacred pain.
He bit his lip against the swelling in his throat and the burning in his eyes. His little boys had been his world, and Wendy had been a big part of that world.
This job, this mission was for them. He was going to avenge their deaths. And Lexi Stoltz posed a threat to that. Somehow, he knew she could prevent him from exacting vengeance and bringing down the White. It didn’t make sense to think that, but he trusted his gut. He couldn't let her come between him and his goal.
He stepped out of the bathroom, wearing his shorts and nothing else. Let her be shocked. Let her throw a prissy little fit and he could despise her for being pretentious and phony.
But she didn't. She lay on the bed, curled up on one side with her back to him. Her long dark hair covered her shoulder, a few wavy tendrils reaching out over the pillow like vines in search of something to twist around. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.
She didn't move so he figured she’d managed to fall asleep after all. Good. About time.
He fished his first aid kit out of the bag and taped up his shoulder. Doing it one-handed was on the edge of impossible, but he did what he could. When she didn’t offer to help, he was sure she was sleeping. She was too softhearted to let him struggle.
He ate. But the whole time, the image of her, lying there in the bed wearing his T-shirt now, with her hair spread around her like dark chocolate satin, haunted his mind. She hadn't eaten. She should’ve. She’d need her energy for the trip ahead. Either she was too fussy to settle for the MREs in his pack or she seriously wasn’t hungry. Probably the latter.
He ought to wake her up and make her eat.
He didn't.
And when he'd cleaned his guns and loaded them and run out of things to do, he sat there on his own bed and looked at her.
Why did he have to end up saddled with a woman who could make a saint have impure thoughts? He far preferred the usual risks, bullets flying past his head, that sort of thing Why her?
Romano hadn't had sex with a woman since Wendy had died. And, frankly, he hadn't wanted to. That part of him had died with his family. He hadn't been aroused since the night when his life had gone up in smoke, and that was fine by him. He'd planned to just throw himself, body and soul, into the job, until one of these times the bad guys got the best of him and put an end to this joke that passed for a life.
But work hadn't made him forget. And with a cloud of suspicion still hanging over him at the Bureau, and Stryker always watching his every move, it had become impossible to stay on the job. His former partner was convinced of his guilt in the bombing that had killed his family. Stryker had never been able to back up his suspicions, but he’d never stopped trying. Eventually, work had become impossible.
Hell, he couldn't even blame Stryker. He’d been in love with Wendy himself. But a drunken night between Romano and Wendy had led to an unplanned pregnancy and they’d decided to get married. If that hadn't happened, she probably would have ended up married to Stryker.
And maybe she'd still be alive.
Though he never said it out loud, Stryker was a constant reminder of that fact. So Romano had chosen retirement. But that hadn't worked out, either.
He'd entered stage three now, he supposed. He was living for vengeance. That was all he cared about. There was no room for sympathy or even lust.
So what was it about Lexi that had him feeling... desire? The longer he looked at her, the more he felt it, even after almost a year without a sign of life from his libido.
Made no sense whatsoever. But he could resist temptation. If he could dodge bullets and battle terrorists, he could fight off a little coup attempt by his reborn sex drive. He wasn't going to be unfaithful to Wendy's memory. And he sure as hell wasn't going to get involved with Lexi. That would interfere with the job he had to do.
So he sat there arguing with his body until an hour before dawn. That was when she muttered something in her sleep and rolled over, bending one long leg, causing the T-shirt to bunch up around her waist. And he saw the little white cotton panties she wore, and he wanted to go over there and slide them off her.
He was undeniably turned on and disgusted with himself for it. Fresh air might help. He pulled on his jeans and T-shirt and headed out the door, paced in the parking lot, stared up at the fading night sky. But it didn’t give him any answers and did little to erase this sudden hunger for a woman he barely knew.
A vehicle pulled in, grabbing his attention. The black van moved slowly through the parking lot like a shark on the hunt.
He ducked into the shadows, pressing his back to wall and moving sideways until he could see the van again. There had been two vans at Lexi's log mansion. He'd blown one to hell, but not the other. This was not some weary traveler looking for a good parking spot. It was White, or more of his henchmen.
How the hell had they followed him here? Had they seen his car? Did they know what to look for?
Didn't matter. He'd left two alive back there, two who could describe him and Lexi. He should’ve killed them both.
The van came to a stop out front, and someone got out and headed toward the motel office, probably to ask the clerk if anyone matching their description had been here.
He quickly ducked back into their room, closed the door, and went to the bed where Lexi lay sleeping, her face illuminated only by the flickering orange glow of the neon vacancy sign outside. He leaned over her, touched her shoulder. “Wake up.”
Her eyes opened, slow and sleepy. She stared up at him, and whispered, “But I don't even know your real name.”
He swallowed hard, told himself not to dwell on the possible interpretations of that response. “We have to leave. They’re here.”
Her eyes rounded, and she lunged out of the bed almost knocking him over in the process. She quickly pulled on her jeans, stuffed her feet into her sneakers. “Where are they?”
“In the motel office. If we get out fast, they won’t hear us leave."
"How did they find us?” She ran around the room, gathering up their things, cramming them into her purse, his duffle, whatever was close. He saw the safe deposit box key tumble from her bag to the floor, then watched her snatch it up quick and shove it into her back pocket.
"Damned if I know.” He scanned the room to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind. As he checked the bathroom, he tried to figure it out, talking it through as he did. "Yeah, I do. I left that safe deposit box receipt in your father’s room like a damned rookie.”
He’d snatched up a few things, her watch and their motel-provided toothbrushes, his razor. “Once they knew where we were going and that we were in a hurry, all they had to do was take the most direct route and start checking motels along the highway. Amateur hour. My mistake. I know better."
Her brown eyes watched his. The way she looked at him made him shiver, and he was damned if he knew why. He shoved everything he’d found into the duffel, slung it over his shoulder and took her arm. He held his gun at the ready in his right hand and opened the door.
#
Lexi planted her feet when they got to the door. “I can't do this. I can't go out there." She whispered the words, but Romano pulled her through the door and outside, then quickly around the building to where he’d parked the car. She moved on legs as stiff as boards, which she figured was just as well. If her knees bent at all, they'd probably dissolve.
She tried to look around, tried to search the area for men with guns. It seemed at first that they were everywhere, but it was only that the parking lot was alive as headlights passed on the highway, making the shadows come to life. There could be twenty men in black lurking out here, and they'd be invisible.
From somewhere on the highway, music came faintly, then louder, then faded again. Motors purred and sputtered and roared. She could hear the tinny voices and canned laughter of a TV sitcom coming from one of the rooms nearby. And there was a throaty gurgle of rushing water from beneath the grate just under her feet. Nothing else. But that didn't mean they were alone.
Romano leaned close to her. "Give me that safe deposit key. But don't make it obvious."
His eyes were wide, alert, moving back and forth as he scanned the parking lot around the corner of the building.
Almost afraid to move, Lexi reached toward the back pocket of her jeans.
He turned to her all of the sudden, one arm snapping around her waist. Then he pulled her close, and his mouth covered hers. He pressed her back to the wall, nudging her mouth open, kissing her in a way she’d never been kissed before. His hand slid down over her back, and her eyes fell closed even as she realized that his remained open. And he still held a gun in his other hand.
Her legs dissolved, and she put her arms around his neck. She'd sink to the ground if she didn't. His mouth on hers was hungry as it invaded and devoured. When his hand clasped her buttocks, squeezed her there, held her hips to his, she felt her insides turn molten. She tilted her head, kissing him back as her mind spun into madness. Conscious thought fled. Feeling took over. Sensation. The blood in her veins grew lava-hot, and every nerve ending quivered. She slid her fingers into his long dark hair, even moved her hips against him. He was eliciting responses from her very soul as he kissed her. The way his hand moved, kneaded, slid...
Into her back pocket, and then out again, with the key.
He straightened away from her, the key now in his fist, his eyes just as alert and sharp as before. His breathing was normal. Hers was ragged. She pressed her hands to the wall behind her for support. Her heart hammered.
He turned, scanning the area again, unmoved by the chaos he'd just brought crashing down on her.
"Now be casual. Open the passenger door and get in."
She swallowed hard, lifting her chin. He was either a cold-hearted bastard or he was completely oblivious to the storm he’d just set loose inside her. She hoped for the latter, and walked along the passenger side of the car, toward the door. He kept pace on the driver's side.
She reached the door, put her hand on it.
"Not leaving so soon, are you, Romano? The party is only beginning."
The accent was British, and the shrill voice sent cold chills up Lexi's spine. She froze, moving only her eyes to find the source of that fingernails-on-chalkboard tone.
The man was so pale he almost glowed in the dark. He stood right behind Romano, a gun pressed tight to the base of his neck. His gaze met hers over the top of the car. There was rage in his eyes. But she sensed it wasn't directed at her.
"White." Romano’s voice dripped hatred when he said the name.
The name was probably meant to be ironic. An albino named White. He was the essence of white. He yanked the duffel from Romano's shoulder and slung it down onto the pavement. "Your gun, my friend. Drop it."
He did. Lexi heard the clatter of metal against blacktop. She tried not to sink into a well of panic, tried telling herself it was all right. There were other guns in that duffel. Lots of other guns.
White lifted his gaze, and when it met Lexi's, she shuddered in revulsion. Cold eyes. Colorless in the darkness, only igniting with neon fire when the sign flickered and buzzed. But evil, unspeakably evil. She felt its touch when he looked at her. The neon illuminated a scar across his cheek, making it seem fresh. Goose bumps rose on her arms, and she felt a crackle of static race over her nape. He had white hair and glowing reddish eyes.
"Put those lovely arms up high, Dr. Stoltz, and come around the car to stand beside your lover, won’t you?"
She opened her mouth to tell him she couldn’t, but no words came out. Seemed she was scared speechless as well as motionless. Her gaze jerked back to Romano’s, and he sent her a nearly imperceptible nod. Somehow, she managed to raise her hands above her head and put one foot in front of the other until she stood beside him, facing the car with that monster behind them.
"Turn around," the monster squeaked. His voice made her teeth hurt. Romano turned to face him. Lexi stood still until his hands touched her shoulders, turning her gently, telling her with his eyes that it would be okay.
The monster smiled. His eyes flashed red whenever the sign flickered His skin was alabaster. Shorter than Romano, though not by much, he was probably twenty pounds lighter. His long, narrow face ended in a pointed chin.
"I barely trusted my instincts when my men described the agent who'd run off with Dr. Stoltz and left them bound like calves at one of your American rodeos, on her living room floor. I almost convinced myself it was only wishful thinking. But it is you.”
"You shouldn't be so glad about that,” Romano said softly.
“I enjoy a worthy opponent. Makes the game more interesting."
"This is no game, White."
"Of course it is. Shall I tell you the rules?" He laughed softly, pressed his gun’s barrel to Romano’s forehead.
"You have something I want," he said. "The key to Elliot Stoltz's safe deposit box. Give it to me, and I'll kill you quickly. Otherwise..." He smiled again, a slow, meaningful smile that froze Lexi's heart. “…it will be slow and extremely painful."
"What safe deposit box?" Romano’s voice was low, dangerous.
The albino shook his head. "Lies will only earn your beautiful friend more pain, Romano."
“If there was a box somewhere, do you think I'd keep the key with me? You forget, White, I've dealt with you before."
"And you underestimated me then, too, as I recall. I did think it would take longer for you to take a lover, though. Is your dead wife a faded memory already?"
Lexi felt Romano stiffen beside her, and instantly thought of the woman in the photo. His wife was dead, then. And what about the little boys?
"I'm going to kill this one, too,” White went on. “Will you forget her as quickly?" His gun moved down over Romano’s face, his chin, his neck, finally stopping when it pressed to the center of his chest. Then White reached out with his free hand, ran it slowly over Lexi's hair. She cringed backward, pressed herself to the car, averted her face, but couldn’t cringe far enough to escape his touch. "I won't kill her fast like I did your wife, though. I'll take my time with this one.”
Her stomach heaved and she half turned, dropped to her knees, threw up on the asphalt. Then she knelt there until she was spent, and when she finally stopped heaving, she knew she couldn't stand up again if her life depended on it. She collapsed against the duffel, shaking all over.
White shook his head disdainfully at her before returning his attention to Romano. "I never thought weak women were your type." He sent her a last glance, then dismissed her with a shrug. "No matter. Where is the key?"
"Not here," he said calmly, levelly.
Lexi felt her heart trip over itself. Its beat stumbled, fluttered. It was often the first sign and she prayed it would stay in control. Her damned PSVT might get them both killed. She pawed the spilled contents of the duffel in search of her pills, as her heart switched into full-blown tachycardia. Within seconds she was sucking in breaths that didn’t seem enough to sustain her. She felt dizzy already.
"Where, Romano? My patience is running thin."
He only shook his head. "I can't believe you're here alone," he said. "I thought you never ventured out from under your rock without a half-dozen smaller snakes to do your dirty work."
“You bested my little snakes. And not for the first time. This is personal now. Just you and me."
Lexi put her hand into the bag, knocking other items out in her frantic search for her pill bottle, still panting. She closed her fist around something cold and metallic. A gun.
She blinked in stark disbelief. She couldn't do it. Could she? Bending over herself so her long hair concealed the weapon, she took it out of the bag, turned it so the grip was in her palm and slid her finger carefully over the trigger.
"This is getting tedious," White whined in his irritating voice. "I have methods for extracting information, you know."
She didn't know if the gun was loaded. She didn't know anything about guns, except that you were supposed to pull the hammer back before firing. Only this one didn't seem to have a hammer. They had a safety switch though, didn’t they? She felt around for such a switch and moved it. If she waited much longer, she'd pass out from lack of oxygen. This episode was the worst one yet. Her heart was beating so fast there was no space in between the beats.
"It's a shame. A waste of a good man. But you understand, I don't need you to lead me to the formula when I have Dr. Stoltz. And she'll be much more pleasant compan—"
She lifted the barrel toward White and squeezed the trigger.
#
Romano's first thought when the shot exploded in his ears was that White had shot him. It took only an instant to realize that wasn't the case. White swore aloud, jumped backward, and swung his gun barrel toward Lexi, who still knelt on the ground.
Romano brought his fists down on White's gun hand, and the weapon dropped to the ground. White never missed a beat. He lunged away, running for all he was worth, around the building and toward the black van at the other end of the parking lot.
He wanted to go after him. To kill him. He reached down to take the Ruger from Lexi’s trembling hands.
But he made the mistake of glancing at her as he did it, and then he paused. The red haze of his hatred faded enough that he could see her hunched on the cold pavement, holding her chest with one hand and gasping for breath. Her eyes were wide and swimming.
He heard the van door slide open. Damn. No doubt White had other weapons in there. He crouched, sticking his gun into the back of his jeans, and spotted the pill bottle, which had rolled out of the bag. He grabbed it, and pressed a pill between her lips, then gripped her under the arms and hauled her to her feet. Their supplies were scattered and there was no time to gather them all. He opened the car door, slung the duffle over into the back seat. "Get in, Lexi. Quick!"
She crouched and snatched something else off the ground, then scrambled across the front seat into the passenger side.
Romano dove behind the wheel. White’s van was already coming toward them. He jammed the car into gear, spun the tires and sped out of the parking lot and into traffic.
All the while, one hand was elbow deep in the console. He found what he wanted, a little cocktail for his pal, Mr. White. He anchored the bottle between his thighs, worked the lighter from his jeans pocket, flicked the flame to life and touched it to the cloth. Then he chucked the Molotov cocktail right out the back, through the missing rear windshield. It smashed onto the pavement and exploded. Cars skidded every which way, and traffic came to a complete halt.
“God, you’ll kill someone!”
“Just light and noise, and it served its purpose.” He nodded at the van, which was blocked by other vehicles, due to the chaos he’d caused.
Then he changed lanes and passed everything ahead of him. But even when the mess was far behind, he didn't let up. He wasn’t taking any more chances with White. He couldn't afford to make another mistake.
*****
Some miles later, finally confident of their escape, he glanced over at Lexi. She sat still, her pupils still dilated, her face flush with color. Her panting had eased, so apparently that pill had kicked in.
His photo was on her lap. Wendy and the boys, smiling and beautiful. All he had left of them, really.
A horn blew, and he jerked his attention back to the highway and swerved into his own lane, but his mind was going back over their escape. She’d grabbed something off the pavement before scrambling into the car. His photo. Why?
He looked at her again, keeping one eye on his driving this time. She was shaken up, that was for sure. “You okay?"
Her answer was a vague nod. She licked her lips. "Did... did I hurt him?"
"White?" The question surprised him.
“Did I hurt him?”
"You missed by a mile, Lexi. But you got our asses out of a tight spot, That was quick thinking. You did all right back there, for a rookie.”
She closed her eyes, lowered her head. “I went into arrhythmia and almost passed out."
"You kept your head and used your wits. Not too many people I know could have done that with a killer a foot away and a heart racing out of control.”
"I was looking for my pills. I found the gun by mistake."
Romano frowned, wondering why she was so determined not to take any credit. "Did you fire it by mistake, too?"
"No."
"No. You didn’t save my photo by mistake either, did you."
She said nothing for a long time.
“Thank you,” he said at length.
When she finally spoke again, her voice was almost normal. "What happens now?"
He sighed. “I’ve been thinking on that. They know where the safe deposit box is. But they don’t have the key. Unfortunately, neither do we.”
“We don’t?”
He shook his head. “I dropped it through the storm grate in the parking lot the second I felt his gun barrel against my neck.”
“On purpose?” He nodded and she frowned even harder, "Why? Why throw it away after you went to so much trouble to take it from me?"
He looked at her quickly, trying to read the emotion in her eyes. Her fear camouflaged everything else. He was impressed all over again that she’d managed to save their asses while being scared half out of her mind.
“I apologize for kissing you like that. White was watching. I could feel him, and I didn't want him to see me take the key from you. It... was the first thing that popped into my head."
Yeah, right. If he was honest, he’d admit kissing her like that had popped into his head several times since they’d been thrown together. But he'd never imagined her response would be pure, mind-blowing desire. Hell, he hadn't imagined what her response would be, because he’d had no intention of giving in to the urge.
She'd turned to liquid fire in his arms, and he'd almost forgotten all about White and vengeance and finding the formula and saving the world. When she'd moaned, and opened her mouth to him, and raked his hair with her fingers….
"Don't ever do it again," she said softly, her voice somehow strong as steel despite its underlying waver.
And for some reason, that offended him. “Yeah, I could tell you really hated it."
Her eyes widened and she stared at him as if he’d turned into a spitting cobra. Hell, he kind of had.
"All right, I won't lay a hand on you. Feel better?"
She looked away, staring straight ahead. "Why did you throw the key away?"
“To keep him from getting it. Not that it matters now. White knows where that box is, and hell itself won’t stop him. Even if we manage to get there first, he'll be there, waiting. They’ll take us out the second we step out of the building."
"Then... then it’s over? We've lost?"
"Not by a long shot. I'm good at what I do. One of the best. I’ve just gotta figure out how I can get to the safe deposit box first, and do it without getting my head blown off. Simple.”
He looked at her, and he knew the second he saw her face that there was more. Something she hadn't told him. Guilt clouded her brown eyes, and she gnawed her lower lip.
“What?”
She cleared her throat. "I can't let you risk getting shot when..."
"When...?"
"There is no safe deposit box in New York."