Arabella flattened the bulletproof vest over her chest with her palms. It was not as thick as the standard-issue police department vests, but it would still be noticeable under her shirt, which was why she was going to wear a jacket to this little party.
“I don’t think this is going to work.” She shook her head in Felix’s direction. He’d been the one insisting on the extra protection.
She checked out his shirt—she could barely tell he had a vest on, although he was big, broad, and assuming already, so another couple of inches weren’t that noticeable on him.
He stepped behind her, reached to her waist, and undid the Velcro. Her belly fluttered at his touch and the overall raw sexual energy that constantly buzzed around him. Or passed between them naturally. Or that she always felt with him because he was her husband.
“There.” He shimmied the vest down toward her hips, apparently satisfied from his rear view.
Since their afternoon fun at the bank, she hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes. It hurt too much. The guy calling her Mrs. Ibarra had made her cringe. Felix nosing his way into finding the ring had made her mad. Then the exchange in the truck had made it all worse. Or better. If you were Felix. This is what he wanted.
The ring remained in her pocket. She had nowhere else to put it. And what would she do with it once the ink was dry on the divorce decree—sell it on eBay, bedazzle a shirt with the stones, melt it into a paperweight?
They’d gone back to the Wyn Security office to run through the plans again and get loaded up. Five o’clock could not come fast enough. Anxiety riddled her limbs and started to get into her head. She’d been on a hundred missions, some by herself and some surrounded by a team. She’d lived through each one. She’d get through this one, too. And if she didn’t, she could certainly rest in peace knowing that Felix would make sure Darek and anyone else responsible died a very painful death.
Unless, of course, Felix turned her over to Darek for real. In that case, not even angels with harps floating on fluffy clouds could keep her from tearing three layers of skin off Felix’s body with hot pinchers. The incident with Safar hadn’t been Felix’s fault. It had been easier to blame him though. Now she’d see once and for all where she stood with Felix.
“You got your knives?” he asked, still behind her. She could practically feel his warm breath on her neck.
Goose bumps prickled the back of her neck and shoulders. What if he hugged her tight and told her he was in love with her and wanted to live happily ever after? She scoffed. Never going to happen. He might hug her, but then he’d tell her to aim for center mass.
“I want to know what you’re fucking armed with.” His gruff tone was loud.
She slowly turned to face him, eyebrows raised. What the hell was his problem?
“You can balk at my questions all you want, but answer them.”
Whoops, he’d thought she’d thrown him attitude about the knives. Well, making him mad was fine by her. She didn’t exactly need him in a good mood when they dealt with Darek anyway.
“Two in each boot.” Her favorite set of knives hadn’t left her side since this whole thing started. Even when she was with Felix. A girl had to be able to protect herself.
“Your gun?” he persisted.
“I didn’t bring the Walther. I don’t want it getting taken away if he’s got bodyguards there to frisk us.” I love that gun.
“Here.” Felix reached into a closet that had been made into an armory of sorts in Winter’s office and pulled out a small black Beretta like the one he carried. “Take this one.”
“If I would have worn a skirt, I would’ve had a chance at keeping it.” She winked at him. “But you’re just basically throwing this piece away.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
She touched her ear again. They’d all put their comms back in, and she didn’t know if Eddie was already monitoring conversations. She didn’t even want to think of the possibility that Eddie had heard everything through Felix’s that afternoon.
She gazed into his stern, light blue eyes and shimmied the gun under the vest and in between her breasts. “Happy?” She wiggled around a little to settle to new contents on her chest. It was a good thing he picked the smallest 9mm Beretta made.
“Extremely.” His hot gaze smoked a hole right through her. Was he going to kiss her or yell at her? She couldn’t tell. “You keep touching your ear.”
“It feels weird.” She wiggled her nose in a poor attempt to move the comm around in her ear.
Felix stepped closer—the man had already been close enough to touch, and now he was practically close enough to feel. Heat radiated from his arms to hers. If she cocked a hip, her inner thigh would rub his leg. Just one easy, perfectly normal action could put them in an intimate position. The temptation was real. How was she ever going to excise him from her life, her memories? Alcohol. After she was discharged, she might just spend a week on a beach or in the mountains somewhere drinking Felix away with a hardy tequila.
“Let me see.” He moved a couple of stray hairs behind her ear, and a tingle shot straight from his fingertips to southern parts of her that yearned for him. She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. The rest of her buzzed, anticipation for his next move mounting. Would he touch her cheek, neck, hips? Would he kiss her? It was almost too much.
She titled her head to the left, her bare neck feeling overly exposed. His big fingers felt light against her skin as he checked the placement of her earbud then trailed them down her neck before pulling away and leaving her with a line of prickling desire.
“Looks good.” His voice was husky. “You’ll get used to it.”
She doubted it, but she only had to deal with it for a couple more hours.
“What about you?” She righted her neck, but he didn’t back away. Her chest pushed against the blasted vest, and she felt claustrophobic as her breathing picked up. She wanted to press her lips against his and break the hard barrier they’d formed after the bank. It was official—she was a glutton for punishment. “How armed are you?”
“I have more weapons on me than you’d know what to do with.”
That was one hell of a statement.
“Try me.” She arched a brow.
“Four guns, multiple knives, tactical pen, and these.” He raised his palms toward her. “They might not be as good as your right hook though.” He petted his jaw.
The ends of her lips curved up. “Few things are.” She searched his eyes, not wanting this moment, their closeness to end. This was it for them. She could feel it. “You have your own tell, too, you know.”
Felix raised his eyebrows.
“A certain muscle jump in your jaw.”
His gaze danced with amusement. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“Maybe nobody studied you like I have before.”
Felix’s gaze dropped to her lips. And her lungs deflated right along with his glance. One kiss. She just wanted one more kiss.
“I suppose not.” The humor in his eyes disappeared. “We want to get in and out.”
She nodded once. There’d be no kiss. His serious, strategic face had hard lines and a piercing stare. Work Felix was so remarkably sexy she could barely focus on the situation they were about to walk into.
“Nothing funny or fancy, and it’ll work out.” His low words meant business. She had the feeling if he could’ve sat her on the sidelines of the hoopla tonight, he would’ve. But he couldn’t do this job alone. Right now he needed her. They needed to be the team they used to be, the team they were when they were ambushed yesterday.
“My goal is not to rock the boat tonight.” She kept her gaze steady, daring him to blink.
Sure, she’d thought of other plans as the Wyn Security crew discussed contingencies. And she’d pictured shooting Darek in the face more than once.
His gaze roamed over her hair, down her chest, and then back to her eyes. “Our approach is solid. We’ll have backup everywhere. No trigger fingers.”
Damn him.
“I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder anymore. Four months is long enough. I want this to be over, too.” She winced inside at the double meaning but didn’t let it show. He could suck on that jab. Served him right.
She didn’t care why Darek stopped hunting her—dead or imprisoned, either would do.
“It’s go time.” Eddie stuck his head into Winter’s office.
It was indeed go time. She was about to be free of a four-month nightmare. She should be amped and ready to kick some ass. Instead, she wished she had more time. Time with Felix. This was it, after all. There’d be no excuses to see him, talk to him, or kiss him in a couple of hours.
Stop whining.
She grabbed the tan leather jacket that was part of her look-normal-in-public outfit, put it on, zipped it up, and shoved her hands in the pockets. Fuck him if he doesn’t want me forever.