Blaze of Glory (4 page)

Hmm.
She
needed
a
prop.
Bustling
out
the
door
to
the
vending
machine,
she
reached
into
her
purse
for change,
rattling
around
in
the
bottom
of
her
jingly
bag,
shoving
aside
a
pack
of
gum,
a
miniature
Rubik’s Cube
key
chain,
a
tube
of
ChaCha
Red
lipstick.

Pay
dirt.
Change.
She
pumped
the
machine
full
and—oh
yeah—java.
No
workaholic
could
resist
coffee, even
the
crummy
vendingmachine
beverage.

Juggling
her
notebook,
purse
and
two
foam
cups,
she
made
her
way
back
to
the
lab
room.
The
second
cup would
make
her
staying
put
seem
natural.

Felicia
edged
closer
to
his
desk,
hitching
a
hip
up
on
one
corner,
toppling
a
pile
of
his
files
with
her notebook
and
sequined
bag.
And
still
no
reaction.

Holy
Sister
Mary
Discipline,
how
easy
it
would
be
to
utilize
her
hightech
training
and
kill
this
man.
He wouldn’t
be
the
wiser
until
the
bullet
popped
behind
his
ear
or
a
blade
slipped
between
his
ribs.
He
was
so damn
vulnerable
and
seemed
completely
oblivious.

Felicia
placed
the
steaming
coffee
beside
his
screen
while
bringing
her
own
cup
to
her
face
and
simply savoring
the
smell.
His
nose
twitched.
His
hand
eased
over
and
around
the
cup.

“Thanks,”
he
said
without
once
glancing
her
way.

Had
he
known
she
was
there
after
all?
That
threw
her
for
three
clicks
of
the
wall
clock’s
second
hand.

“I
wasn’t
sure
how
you
prefer
your
coffee.”
She
reached
into
her
purse
to
pull
out
a
small
creamer
and
two packs
of
sugar
she’d
shoved
inside.
She
placed
them
by
his
hand.

Long
fingers
completely
encircled
the
cup,
skin
dusted
with
light
brown
hair,
a
masculineasallgetout
hand with
callused
fingertips,
scrapes
and
a
suntan.
Her
eyes
trekked
up
his
arms
under
his
lab
coat,
bulky,
so
she couldn’t
determine
much.
But
for
someone
she’d
seen
as
sedentary,
those
calluses
and
his
time
in
the
sun implied
perhaps
he
had
a
physical
side
no
one
knew
about.

Apparently
she
wasn’t
the
only
one
with
secrets.

He
jarred
from
his
stupor
long
enough
to
glance
at
her
latest
offering.
“I,
uh,
take
it
black.
Too
much
trouble to
keep
up
with
froufrou
extras.”

“Of
course.”
A
huge
fan
of
froufrou
herself,
she
pinched
up
one
of
the
sugar
packs,
teasing
it
between
two fingers.

Popping
the
lid
free,
he
drank
down
a
swallow
while
clicking
along
the
keyboard
onehanded.
Another drink,
and
still
he
ignored
her.

She
waited.
And
waited.

His
fingers
on
the
keys
slowed…stopped.

He
glanced
over
at
her.
“Did
you
need
something,
Ms.,
uh…” Great.
She’d
been
working
her
slightly
oversize
tail
off
to
get
close
to
this
man
for
over
a
month
and
he didn’t
even
know
her
flipping
name.
“Fratarcangelo.”

“Oh.
Hell.
Fratarcangelo,
huh?”
He
grinned.
“No
wonder
I
couldn’t
remember.
Your
name’s
got
like
eleven or
so
vowels
in
it.”

A
sense
of
humor
to
go
with
that
brain
and
those
workroughened
hands?
A
dangerous
combo,
especially when
he
hadn’t
once
glanced
at
the
skintight
sparkle
tank
she’d
put
on
with
her
favorite
martiniglass
stretch pants.
“Try
spelling
Fratarcangelo
in
kindergarten.
I
was
already
taxed
to
the
max
with
Felicia
Belladonna.”

“I
can
see
where
that
might
be
challenging
for
a
fiveyearold.” His
eyes
never
once
slid
down,
which
should
be
a
compliment,
but
dag
nab
it,
she
needed
to
distract
him and
men
tended
to
babble
when
breasts
were
in
sight.
She
inched
closer
on
the
edge
of
the
table
so
she
could arch
her
back
just
a
smidge.
Patience.
Wait
for
it…

Blink.

Blink.

Still
his
gaze
stayed
locked
on
her
eyes.
Was
this
guy
gay,
after
all?
Just
because
his
file
said
he
had
an
adult daughter
didn’t
necessarily
rule
out
anything.
Or
was
he
genuinely
that
nice
and
sensitive?
The
most dangerous
option
of
all.

She
sipped
her
coffee
then
with
one
finger
traced
the
ChaCha
Red
stain
left
on
the
rim.

His
eyebrows
lifted
as
he
nudged
aside
the
halfempty
cup.
“So?
Why
are
you
here?” To
form
a
bond
that
will
hopefully
eventually
lead
you
to
spill
the
secrets
stored
in
your
billiondollar
brain and
make
me
look
good
to
my
boss.

She
straightened
from
the
table.
“Okay,
I
guess
I
should
confess
my
real
reason
for
coming
to
see
you
this late
when
nobody
else
would
be
around.”

“That
would
be
helpful,
Ms.
Fratarcangelo.”

“I
wanted
to
hear
more
about
your
theories
on
maximizing
production
of
lightwater
nuclear
reactors.”
She tossed
a
wideeyed
look
of
curiosity
his
way,
even
though
she
had
that
subject
whipped.
She
figured
it
was better
to
ease
her
way
into
the
info
she
needed
from
him
than
alert
him
by
going
straight
for
the
punch.

“Oh.
Well,
why
didn’t
you
say
so
right
away?”
His
green
eyes
lit
up.

She
pivoted
on
her
spiky
heels
to
snag
a
second
metal
stool
to
pull
up
to
the
raised
counter.
Scooching backward,
she
tugged
the
seat
across
the
floor,
the
screech
bouncing
around
the
otherwise
silent
room.
She stopped,
glanced
over
her
shoulder
at
the
doctor
to
find—

No
way.

No
freaking
way.

He
was
staring
at
her
slightly
abundant
bottom
in
a
most
ungay
way.

Dr.
Lanier
jolted,
then
his
face
cleared,
the
professional
professor
firmly
back
in
place.
But
she
wasn’t forgetting
what
she
saw.
He
wasn’t
as
immune
to
her
as
he
pretended.
She
had
to
admire
his
restraint
and professionalism.

But
she
also
had
to
remember
this
man
could
be
just
like
her—fake,
secretive.

Dangerous.

STANDING
IN
THEoutdoor
shower,
Grace
Marie
shivered
in
disgust
and
maybe
even
a
little
fear,
which was
so
totally
not
her
style.
Lord.
She
was
a
profiler
for
the
police
as
well
as
an
Army
Reservist,
damn
it.

She
could
kick
a
linebacker’s
butt
seven
ways
to
Sunday.

However,
even
the
strongest
of
hearts
would
falter
at
taking
a
nighttime
shower
in
a
polesandtarp
stall
with geckos
and
heaven
only
knows
what
else
running
over
her
feet
while
she
soaped
her
ohsobare
nether regions.
She
slathered
up
fast,
hopping
from
one
foot
to
the
other
on
the
small
wooden
platform,
which probably
had
at
least
seven
species
of
gross
bug
life
beneath.

And
Lordy,
how
she
missed
her
Victoria’s
Secret
scented
bath
products,
but
they
simply
weren’t
prudent
in the
field
and
maneuvers
when
stealth
counted.
Besides,
the
scents
attracted
insects
as
well
as
men.
Backing to
the
corner,
she
could
see
the
whole
cubicle
while
she
shampooed
her
hair.

Ick.

She’d
accidentally
stomped
a
frog
while
her
eyes
were
cloaked
with
lather.
Why
oh
why
had
she
forgotten her
flipflops
back
in
the
Army
TEMPER
tent?

Duh.
She
wasn’t
concentrating
because
ofhim.

She
was
as
tough
as
the
next
Army
grunt
and
had
the
PT
scores
to
prove
it.
But
the
whole
showeringinthejungle
gig
was
never
cool.
Call
it
her
weak
spot.
At
least
for
here,
she
had
her
bathing
time
down
to
ninety seconds
flat.
Of
course
that
meant
she
might
have
to
skip
shaving
her
legs
tonight.

No.
She
refused
to
face
an
old
boyfriend
with
hairy
legs.
Some
things
even
a
warrior
woman
simply couldn’t
bear.
She
stretched
her
right
calf
out,
used
soap
to
cream
it
up
and
raked
that
razor
across
so
fast
she knew
she’d
pay
later,
but
some
prices
were
worth
the
pain.

She
shifted
to
hike
up
her
left
leg
and—

“Ahhh!”
She
swallowed
a
scream
that
would
bring
a
stallful
of
soldiers.

Not
in
this
lifetime,
gentlemen.

Damn,
damn,
damn!Something
thick
inched
over
the
top
pole
holding
the
tarp
sheet.
A
thick
reptile
grew longer
and
longer
by
the
slithering
second,
his
slit
pupil
eyes
glistening
in
the
moonlight.
And
not
enough illumination
to
ID
Sergio
the
Snake.

To
hell
with
babysmooth
legs.

Her
left
could
just
be
hairy.
Her
BDUs
would
cover
it
anyhow,
so
no
one
would
know
since
she
wouldn’t be
getting
naked
with
any
man
here.

Grace
Marie
snagged
her
fluffy
robe
from
the
hook
and
made
tracks
far
away
from
Sergio
the
pervert
snake slinking
his
way
for
a
closer
peek—or
worse
yet,
a
taste.
She
edged
along
the
tarp
stall
toward
the
door, shoving
her
arms
in
the
robe,
achieving
as
much
modesty
as
she
could
before
she
reached
the
door
and bolted
out.

And
slammed
into
a
rockhard
body.

She
didn’t
even
have
to
open
her
eyes
to
know.
Bobby.
She
could
smell
him.

“Snake,”
she
said.

“Gee,
thanks,”
his
voice
rumbled
all
the
way
through
her
terry
cloth.
“But
you
already
made
my
reptile status
clear
nine
months
ago.”

“No.
Really.”
She
inched
back,
guilt
pinching,
because
God,
she
hadn’t
meant
for
Bobby
to
think
poorly
of himself.
The
guy
was
great.
Offkilter.
But
great.
“There’s
a
snake
hanging
over
the
shower
stall
all—” His
hand
whipped
downward,
smooth,
fast,
into
his
boot.
His
fist
swept
upward
with
a—

Knife.

He
held
a
huntingstyle
knife
with
a
big
butt
blade,
serrated
and
glinting
in
the
starlit
night.
He
launched
into the
stall
and
sliced
off
Sergio’s
head
before
Grace
Marie
could
complete
her
sentence,
much
less
her thought.

The
reptile—probably
about
six
feet
long—well,
five
and
a
half
now—thudded
to
the
ground.
The
tail flopped
around
with
afterdeath
muscle
contractions
while
the
head
lay
limp
and
useless
and
horrifyingly ugly
at
her
feet.
She
wasn’t
a
wimp,
but
now
she
could
see
the
damn
thing
had
been
a
brown
tree
snake.

Strong
and
poisonous.

With
a
swipe
of
his
boot,
Bobby
kicked
the
remains
off
to
the
side
into
the
undergrowth.
He
sheathed
his knife
in
his
boot
without
missing
a
beat.

Okay,
she
knew
the
surges
of
arousal
going
through
her
were
adrenalinebased
because
of
his
show
of testosterone.
She
refused
to
be
so
hormone
driven.
Thoughts
of
searching
for
athinking
man
shimmied
over to
a
corner
of
her
brain
and
let
all
the
tingly
want
swell
and
fill
her
mind,
her
whole
doggone
body.

She
clutched
her
robe
close
and
wished
again
for
hips
slim
enough
that
she
didn’t
have
to
worry
about
the least
wind
whipping
open
what
little
robe
stretched
across
her
thighs.

“Hey,
Gracie.”

Keeping
one
hand
between
her
breasts
to
squeeze
the
robe
together,
she
eased
the
other
down
so
her
arm anchored
the
lower
slit
of
fabric.
“You
know
you
really
scared
the
crap
out
of
me
when
I
ran
into
you.
I could
have
hurt
you.”

“You
sure
could.”

Even
if
she
could
down
a
linebacker
in
workouts,
a
naked
lady
wearing
only
a
robe
was
at
a
distinct disadvantage
against
a
fully
armed
man
in
a
flight
suit.

A
hot
man,
with
long
lean
legs
and
the
grittiest
dark
fiveo’clock
shadow
that
howled
testosterone.
Bobby was
just
sweaty
enough
to
smell
sexy
and
manly,
and
now
she
looked
closer
and
saw
his
shaving
kit
gripped in
his
hand.
He’d
been
on
his
way
to
the
showers.

He
finished
securing
his
knife
and
straightened.
“You
could
have
choked
me
with
your
robe
tie.
Or
given me
heart
failure
just
by
showing
up
naked
in
front
of
me—wait.”
He
closed
his
eyes,
shook
his
head.
“Nope, I
don’t
think
even
my
imagination
could
do
that
image
justice,
so
I’ll
have
to
live
in
ignorance.” His
wicked
grin
lit
the
night
as
he
continued,
“Unless
you
want
to
thank
me
for
saving
your
life.” A
laugh
burst
free.
How
could
she
not?
They
both
knew
he
wasn’t
serious.
“I’d
forgotten
how
funny
you are.”

“You
think
I’m
joking?”

Her
laugh
fizzled
while
her
skin
tingled.
“Thank
you
for
saving
my
life.
Tell
me
your
favorite
sports
team and
I’ll
order
you
a
jersey.”

“Whoa,
those
suckers
are
pricey.”
He
leaned
one
shoulder
against
a
towering
tree.

“Well,
I’m
not
much
good
in
the
kitchen,
so
baking
you
a
cake
is
out
of
the
question.”

“I
don’t
have
much
of
a
sweet
tooth
anyway.
Sugar
makes
me
go
all
ADHD
and
God
knows
I
suspectmore Bobby
Ruznick
is
the
last
thing
this
world
needs.”

“A
little
Bobby
certainly
does
go
a
long
way.”

Was
he
serious
now
or
not?
Before
she
could
reason
out
the
notion,
he’d
reached
to
wrap
his
hands
around the
clump
of
her
wet
hair
and
wring
water
free.

Her
nipples
tightened
and
goose
bumps
prickled
over
her
skin
in
spite
of
the
heat.
Ohmigod,
this
had
to
be the
sexiest
moment
of
her
entire
freaking
life
and
she
wasn’t
even
naked.
How
could
that
be,
and
why
didn’t she
stop
him?
Or
breathe?
He
was
stepping
over
the
line,
but
the
way
he
had
of
just
being
outrageous somehow
made
the
action
seem
natural.

She
shook
herself
out
of
the
sensual
haze
before
he
squeezed
all
reason
from
her
waning
selfcontrol
along with
water
from
her
hair.
She
stepped
back,
spine
Armyrigid,
with
her
best
policeofficer
face
in
place.
“If any
other
man
had
done
that
I
would
have
flipped
him.”

“Even
that
big
fella,
Rodeo?”
he
asked,
his
voice
a
hint
too
calm.

Jealous?
Not
territory
she
wanted
to
investigate
while
her
nerves
were
on
fire
from
a
simple
touch
to
her hair.
Time
to
divert
the
subject
off
Derek
Washington.
“I
am
a
trained
Army
soldier,
as
well
as
a
police profiler.”

“And
I’m
a
ChairForce
Puke.
Yeah,
I
get
the
picture.”

“A
ChairForce
Puke
with
street
smarts,”
she
conceded,
managing
to
relax
at
least
a
little
since
the
moment had
passed
without
either
of
them
slamming
the
other
against
the
tree
for
a
quickie.
“Maybe
you
Air
Force fellas
could
win
in
handtohand
combat,
but
I
sure
as
hell
would
have
maimed
you
on
the
way
down.
So it’s
best
we
don’t
tangle
or
someone
could
break
something.” Like
her
heart.
She
backed
farther
away
from
temptation
even
if
it
placed
her
closer
to
the
dead
snake.
She nodded
toward
the
hacked
carcass
in
the
brush.
“Thank
you
for
taking
care
of
Sergio
in
the
shower
stall.

And
about
the
other,
thanks,
too.”

“Sergio?”
He
chuckled.
“Only
you
would
name
your
enemy.”

Her
training
led
her
to
say,
“It’s
easier
for
you
if
you
don’t,
isn’t
it?” His
face
blanked.
“Don’t
pull
that
pyschobabble
shit
on
me
as
an
excuse
to
ignore
this.” He
palmed
her
back
and
pulled
her
close.
Closer
still
until
even
humid
air
couldn’t
slide
between
them.
Any concerns
about
PDAs
were
taken
care
of
by
their
shadowy
corner
secluding
them
from
any
nighttime
camp activity.
And
she
wasn’t
in
uniform
so
technically
this
wasn’t
a
PDA….
Hey
wait?
Why
was
she
justifying this
moment?

Nose
to
nose,
minty
breath
to
breath,
she
admitted,
“I
didn’t
mean
the
thanks
for
the
snake
incident.
I
was talking
about
earlier.”

His
grip
gentled.
“Earlier?”

“On
the
flight
line
when
we
first
saw
each
other
again.
You
didn’t
have
to
tell
everyone
what
I
said
in
the bus.
You
could
have
let
them
believe
you
did
the
walking
away
and
saved
yourself
an
ego
hit.”
Her
hand flattened
to
his
chest,
but
she
couldn’t
bring
herself
to
push
him
away.
“To
be
clear,
my
ego’s
not
so
fragile that
it
matters
to
me
if
every
one
of
those
crew
members
thinks
you
dumped
me.” Ah,
his
smile.
“They’re
not
crazy
enough
to
believe
a
guy
like
me
would
make
it
longterm
with
you.
They know
me.”
His
hands
inched
higher
up
her
back,
his
thumbs
on
her
sides,
a
flinch
away
from
grazing
her breasts.
“It
may
have
escaped
your
notice,
but
I
come
by
my
call
sign
honestly.
Of
course
you
dumped
a crazyass
bastard
like
me.”