Danger Mine: A Base Branch Novel (6 page)

“I don’t like easy. It’s boring.”

S
he gave
him the silent treatment, which he had to admit she did better at this time around. Two hours in and not a word. They’d managed to wrangle the emergency exit seats. It afforded them more leg room, but Khani hunched into a ball of rage. Too bad for her, he found her pouting pretty damn cute.

He might be sealing the nails on his coffin, but there were some things he needed to know before they landed. “Tell me about your brother.”

“Why? Did you run through the entirety of the female persuasion?” Her head snapped around so fast, her hair flipped out at the side. “Are you moving on to fresh territory?”

“Oh, I tried fucking you out of my system.” He
tsk
ed. “Didn’t work.”

“Lucky me.”

“Your brother?”

“Isn’t your concern.”

“You guys are close.” He confidently stated the fact. You didn’t shirk your job to trounce about the wilderness for someone you don’t care about.

She screwed up her mouth. Her savage gaze narrowed in challenge.

“I’ll find out one way or the other. I won’t go into a situation blind. I’d rather you tell me though.”

Khani didn’t say another word until she cursed into her phone while he procured them a rental at Anchorage International Airport.

“What?” he asked, though he didn’t expect anything more than a curse directed his way.

“The tour company is closed.”

“I’d guess as much. It’s what…9 p.m. They’ve probably been closed for four or more hours.”

“Thanks, smart-ass. I know that. I just expected them to have a recording with their hours of operation at least and a report about delays or weather bulletins at most.”

“Here are your keys, sir.” The woman slid keys and a slip of paper with a handwritten number scrawled across it. “If there’s anything you need. You know … if you have questions about the vehicle, need roadside assistance, or anything, here’s my number.”

“Thanks really, but I think I can manage.” He scooped up the keys and headed for the lot before Khani lit into another friendly woman. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy seeing her claws, but they had more important things to handle. Her lack of trust in him and all of non-brother mankind, for starters.

“You want to drive?” he asked over his shoulder.

“You’d let me drive?”

“You like control. I can appreciate that.”

Her lips pursed as though she had difficulty reconciling his meaning. “Wow,” she breathed. “You drive. I’ll navigate.”

“That works.” He popped the hatch and deposited the three large bags he carried inside. “You want your carry-on back here or up there with you?”

“Up here. I have some files and info I need.”

“And your gun.”

She hitched a brow, and then nodded.

He shut the gate and hopped into the SUV. “Where to?”

“The tour company. A left once we get out of the lot.”

Street pulled the vehicle out of the parking garage and swerved through the loop-d-loop of arrival and departure lanes. “You said they’re closed, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t need anyone working there to get in and find the information I need.”

“We.” He turned left onto the road and clicked on the heat and rear defrost. It was May, but May in Alaska frosted his man nipples.

“We what?”

“We are doing this together. You need to get that in your head. I know you can work with others. You wouldn’t have gotten this far in the Branch office without the skill. You need to engage it.”

“Yes, sir.” She tucked one foot into the seat and wedged it under her thigh. The longer they drove the taller the buildings grew. Soon they coursed through Anchorage’s pulmonary artery. “Can
we
take a left at the next road?”

“Now who’s the smart-ass?”

“Oh! Oh! I know! Oh! Pick me!” Khani raised her hand in the air and thrashed it about.

“You kill me.” His mouth quirked like it did most of the time he spent around her.

“Likewise, Street.”

“Call me King.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Not on your life.”

He anticipated that sort of response. No one called him King and that suited him fine. He never cared for the name, but it was in essence who he was. Not a ruler. For him the name meant the opposite. Street was a distinguished member of an elite group of warriors. King was nobody. Less than nobody. He was the tarnish on society’s silver service. And somehow his stigma was more intimate than his esteem.

“Why not?”

“Call me Queen.” As the words poured from her lips her hands flew into the air. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Like she was his? Not hardly. “Like what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“You know what I’m talking about. On all accounts.” She placed her hand over her mouth, refusing to speak.

“So, where am I going again?”

She slammed herself back onto the seat. “Turn around when you can. We missed the turn.”

He laughed so hard his abs cramped.

“Shut it, would you?”

“If you put something in my mouth and make me.” He grinned and wiggled his brow.

“Not going to happen.”

“Stranger things have.” He wheeled around at a gas station and headed back the way they’d come. “Just get your mind off my goods this time and let me know when to turn.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Never.”

“Take your next right.”

“Which would have been a left, had you not been distracted by how much you want my body. In the interest of our safety, I think I should go ahead and let you have your way with me.”

Street turned at the next road and spared Khani a long glance. She buried her pretty face in her hands and shook her head. To his eternal pleasure a smile balled her blushed cheeks. Her head popped up. “It’s three blocks up on the left.”

The city beat slowed here, turning from restaurants and retail businesses to insurance and lawyers’ offices. He pulled around the block, continued on to the opposite side of the square they needed, and then parked at the curb. “This should do. All of the other businesses looked deserted, but we’ll play it safe.”

Khani unfolded her legs and scooted forward. Her hand braced on the dash. She looked at something on the floorboard, and then lifted her gaze to him. Her hair curtained around the cliff of her jaw. “You don’t play anything safe, do you?”

The street light filtered in through the windshield. It amplified the halo of black defining her iris. Her pupils expanded, adding to her allure and the amount of blood rushing to his extremities.

“Not much.” He lifted his hand to her face. When she didn’t break his hand off at the wrist his fingers skimmed her cheek. Her hair gathered atop his hand. “I find safe is scared and scared isn’t secure.”

“Sometimes fear is the only thing that saves you.”

“Don’t fear me.” Street pulled his hand back slowly, savoring the silk of her hair across his knuckles.

“I should fear you most.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t.” She shoved him back into his seat.

Khani arched into the back seat and wrestled with her bag. Street’s gaze lit on the small strip of creamy white skin that peaked out from beneath her blouse. His fingers itched to trace the flat expanse, to push the edge higher, and chart her belly button. His grip doubled on the steering wheel.

“Motherfuuuuu.” Her expletive turned into a growl. The zipper of the small bag she fished out of the larger one caught on something. She stretched farther into the backseat.

He should have offered to help, but a bubble of pink skin scarred the now visible flesh at the side of her hip to the fringe of her shirt. Street had plenty of scars, a bullet wound on the shoulder, another on his chest, lashings over his bottom. Still he hadn’t expected Khani to have such gnarly scars. Even in her line of work. Curiosity snacked on his frontal lobe.

She retrieved a small bag of tools from the back, and then slipped from the car, not sparing him a look. Maybe that was part of the reason she hadn’t gotten naked with him. Before. But why wouldn’t she let him put his hands on her?

The hatch opened. “Come on. They’ll be open by the time you get a move on.”

Street shook himself into the present, got out, and walked to the back of the SUV. “What’s the plan?”

“Get in. Don’t get caught.” Her hand disappeared into a pocket. She pulled out a small digital decoder, and then stuffed it into her pocket. “Find Zeke’s itinerary.” With the push of a button the back hatch lowered. “Get out. Don’t get caught.” She turned away and tucked the pouch into the front of her trousers.

“I can handle that.” He offered her his hand. She looked at it as though it were a magic trick she needed to master. “It doesn't have teeth.”

“Ha.” Her dark brow arched high.

“We’re just a couple of co-workers doing some after-hours canoodling.”

“You wish.” She snatched his hand so hard she almost took it off.

He held it and spun her around. Amazingly, she went with the motion, twirling easily on the wet concrete. Their gazes locked. Street’s heartbeat slowed as it always did before battle—winning Khani’s affection would be the biggest of his life.

A second before he stepped forward, she shook off the trance. “Let’s go. We don’t have time for this.” She tugged him down the sidewalk, keeping a full step ahead of him until they turned up the block.

“If you like my arm that much, you can chop it off and take it with you.”

Her strides slowed and they fell into step together. “It’s on the fourth floor of the six-story up ahead. Do you want to go in the front or back door?”

“Do you really have to ask?” A pointy finger poked in between his ribs, sending something akin to an itch but much funnier skating across his middle. He danced from the tickle and barked a laugh that startled him.

“No way,” she gasped. “You’re ticklish?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” She swiveled, facing him, and walking backward.

“I’m not the kind of guy people tickle.”

“Of course you’re not, but what about when you were a kid?”

She’d just asked him about his past. He’d wanted her to just a few minutes ago. His tongue thickened. He could go all in or hash it up.

“Sorry.” Khani whirled around. “I didn’t mean to…never mind.”

“You’re the first person who’s ever tickled me.”

Her hand slipped through his fingers. Street let her go for now, feeling more raw than he ever expected. He wanted her to open up, but he never realized how much that asked, because he’d never disclosed things about himself people didn’t already know from circumstance.

Khani waltzed past the alley with her head high and aimed for the glass-front double doors. Hand on the pull she stopped and pivoted toward him. “Unfasten my top two buttons, but don’t make it obvious.”

He sure as hell hadn’t expected her to say that, but he’d be a Nancy not to seize the opportunity. Street lowered his mouth and sealed his lips over hers. Her gasp rolled across his tongue, eliciting a groan from the depths of his throat. His knuckles thrummed across her belly. He hit every button on his way to the top.

One finger slid beneath the thin fabric. His other hand followed the trail, ending on the cool front of the first clasped button. While his fingers worked the metal through the hole, Street worked his tongue across the edge of her mouth. Hers opened in invitation.

He held back. If he delved into the sweetness of her mouth, he’d lose all control and bonk her on the side of the building. His teeth raked her bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth. The chalky texture of her lipstick shielded her skin from the teasing strokes of his tongue. He longed to strip her mouth of the barrier just like he yearned to dismantle her other defenses. Street sucked her lip to a point, and then released it with a pop.

Seconds suspended between them. Piled atop one another. Khani blinked. “What the hell was that?”

“I made it obvious I was kissing you, not that I was unbuttoning your shirt. If you ask me though, the two go hand in hand.”

Her shoulder-length hair thrashed side to side. “I was going to put the moves on the security guard to get upstairs. You were supposed to be my brother.”

“You can’t ask me to partially strip you without suffering the consequences. Why didn’t you unfasten your own buttons?”

“The guard was looking at me. I didn’t want to be conspicuous.”

“Well, I definitely ruined your plan. But don’t worry, I have another. Just hang back.”

“
H
e just about
threw us into the elevator.” In case there were any cameras, Khani blocked the knob with her body. The place wasn’t high tech enough to need the decoder. She wiggled the J hook in the lock and glared at Street. “Did you threaten to castrate him?”

“Nah.” Street shook his head in that slow, sexy way that had her heart free falling into her stomach. Calculating amusement twinkled in his hazel eyes.

“Well, what did you say?”

The lock gave. Khani pushed through the door, grabbed Street’s arm and yanked him in behind her before she thought about the ramifications—just like she’d bloody done downstairs. He stepped so close static cracked between them. Literally, the material of her blouse clung to her torso. The wool blend of his pants charged the air—along with his smokin’ physique.

Though close enough to meld their lips again, he didn’t make the move. His gaze flitted about her face, searching for what, she hadn’t a clue. But what she found in his eyes made his body seem paltry by comparison.

The more time she spent around him the harder it became to maintain her distance. The issues that prohibited her from being with anyone—even wanting to be with anyone—faded to the background. Her carnal desire rushed forward.

Desire doesn’t change the facts.

“I told him you had a thing for roof sex, that you went wild for it. I said if he let us up no questions, he could watch.”

She’d never been amused by anyone she’d had sex with, but this man beguiled her…and damned if she knew what that meant.

Most of the time she never saw them after the interaction. Only the club submissives, the guys who frequented her haunt of choice, were safe to cross her path, but they could never ask for a repeat. Those were her rules. Rules she lived by. Rules she’d do well to remember.

“Too bad for him and you, roof sex isn’t my thing.” Khani freed him from her hold, skirted him, and closed the door. The room sank into darkness save for the twinkle of city lights coming through the row of windows in the back of the office.

“Ever tried it?” His hot breath penetrated her hair and accumulated at the back of her ear.

She’d let him at her back. How had that happened? That never happened. Not without major ramifications. She held perfectly still, steeping in the remarkable peace that settled over her. “No.”

“You on top of everyone, taking your pleasure. Dominating your lover. No holding back. Screaming your orgasm for the world to hear. I think you’d enjoy it.”

“I think you’d enjoy it,” she whispered. “You should find a nice girl, another roof, and try it out.”

“No.”

Khani turned and pushed past him, barely dodging a wastebasket in her haste. She wouldn’t ask why. It didn’t matter. Finding her brother mattered.

Two desks occupied the small space. A dry erase board with a re-usable calendar hung on the exterior wall opposite the windows. Filing cabinets lined the interior wall. She moved to the first and opened the top drawer. “I made the reservations under my name. Check that board. If you don’t find anything boot up the computer. Can you crack a firewall?”

“I can do lots of things,” he said, ghosting through the space.

She turned back to the cabinet. Files hung back to back and filled the drawer close to overflowing. Numbers polluted the tabs, not names. Her hands flew over the markers. They ended fruitlessly at the back of the drawer. “Blast. They’re coded, instead of organized by name.”

“Are they dates?” He already sat behind the far desk, his fingers flying over the keys.

“Well, no. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“You know, I like doing things the hard way too.”

“Really?” she scoffed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

The drawer closed with a thwack.

“Weren’t your directives don’t get caught and, uh, don't get caught?”

“The guard is on the roof waiting for his show. Who’s going to hear?”

“I’m just saying.” He held one hand out in an, ‘Okay, I told you so,’ kind of way.

Khani turned to the desk nearest her and plopped into its high-backed chair. She depressed the power button, and waited.

“What? Are you racing me now?” Street jeered.

“Maybe. You scared?”

“Not a triffle. I’m already in.”

“No way.” The rollers on the chair worked like a gem. She pushed off the floor and zipped across the vinyl.

He prattled off the information lighting the screen. “Khani and Zeke Slaughter. March 2nd thru 8th, rescheduled. May 11th thru 18th, discount. Hotel Seward reserved for arrival and departure days. Days 1-2, Kenai National Wildlife Refuge. Day 3, Kenai Fjords National Park. Days 4-6, Denali National Park. Day 7, Denali National Park. Guide, Izzy. Paid in full.”

“Will you…”

Before she could ask, Street pulled up another window and Googled Hotel Seward. While the Internet worked its magic, he opened the tour company’s payroll program and scrolled through the list of twenty some-odd employees.

“Isay Polzin, 23, 225 Second Avenue, Seward, AK.” He clicked to the search results, and then to a map. In fractions of a second he had their current location as well as the hotel's and guide’s address in a neat list of directions. “Seward is two hundred kilometers away. And the two are five blocks apart. Do you want to hit the hotel or the guide’s first?”

K
hani meandered about the lobby
, perusing pamphlets and the various long-dead animals stuffed and mounted for morbid viewing pleasure.

“Can I help you, miss?”

She turned to find the curvaceous mid-thirties woman she’d surveilled through the front glass step from the back office. “No thank you. I’m just waiting for my brother. You know how men are, always taking their sweet time.”

“Ooh, where are you from? I adore your accent. It’s so proper.”

“I’m on holiday from London.” Khani turned back to a multi-page brochure issued by the Wildlife Commission about bear safety for two reasons. One, she didn’t want to engage this woman in conversation. That was Street’s job. Two, half-ton carnivores with teeth and claws that ran up to 56 kilometers per hour made her palms sweat.

“Oh, how nice. If you need any tour recommendations, just let me know.”

“Thanks.”

They devoted the entire first two pages explaining how to save the
bear
from becoming mortality statistics since they were such a vital part of the ecosystem. She flipped to the middle. Rule one, don’t feed the bears.
No worries.
Rule two, don’t leave food, trash, pets, or small children unattended.
Did Street count as a child? Not a small one. So, they were okay
there. Rule three, if you encounter a bear, stay calm, break eye contact, and stand your ground. If the bear attacks, lie still on your belly, protecting your head and neck with your arms. Act passive.
Not bloody likely.
If the bear continues to maul you, then fight back using any available weapons: knife, rock, fist.

The door chimed and every nerve in Khani’s highly trained body jumped like she was no more than a twit.

Fucking bears
.

Street waltzed through the door and the woman’s jaw hit the counter top. “Good evening.” He smiled.

“H… Hi.” The registrar visibly shook herself. “You must be the brother. My name is Tildy.”

“A pleasure, Tildy.” Street winked.

“I was just telling your sister, if you need any tour recommendations on your stay, I’d be happy to help.” Tildy’s lips curved into a sweet smile.

“I’d love to hear all about it after you tell me there’s a room left in the inn with my name on it.”

“Two rooms. I don’t want to listen to you snore,” Khani interjected.

“Two rooms then,” Tildy nodded. “Since it’s early in the season I have two side-by-side interior rooms, those are less expensive with no view, but have a cozy fireplace. I also have two side-by-side exterior rooms with a view of Resurrection Bay.”

As the woman continued her spiel Khani roamed past the counter and Tildy’s field of vision. She dipped under the breakaway counter, and then slipped through the open office door.

A massive desktop consumed most of the cluttered desk. Lights kaleidoscoped across the computer screen. Khani cleared the two steps in a whisper.

One bump of the mouse revealed a sea of open windows. She clicked through the options. Tildy had a legion of potential suitors distributed across six dating sites on the first heap of tabs. The last revealed the hotel’s database. One click brought her to reservations. She chose the check-in, check-out log, and then scrolled to the last week.

Zeke Slaughter. Room 14, reserved May 10 and May 18. Second room canceled. Check-in, May 10. Check-out, May 11. No show, no cancelation for May 18.

Khani stood over the keyboard, stunned. When Zeke didn’t call she’d known something was wrong. Having her suspicions confirmed iced her veins. Zeke had been her purpose for so long. She didn’t need him near to function, but she needed him in the world. Without him the earth didn’t rotate. Without him everything faded to black. Without him she wouldn’t survive.

Street cleared his throat. The harsh noise jarred her out of the tailspin. With a few clicks she ordered the woman’s screen and rushed to the door. She slowed at the threshold and listened.

“I need your signature right here and here,” Tildy said.

She stole the opportunity, rounded the counter without incident, and leaned against the glass door, letting the chill exacerbate her misery.

“Ace.” He leaned across the end of Hotel Seward’s long counter. His shoulders bulged the fabric of his shirt. The older woman’s eyes locked onto his sculpted beauty. Her cheeks flushed bright red. His hand extended toward the pen sticking up from the registrar’s springy blonde bun. “Do you mind?” His voice took on a husk that could make any woman’s knees buckle.

“No,” she murmured.

Khani smiled at the exchange, her earlier jealousy over Street gone. Was it progress? She wished. It would simplify one problem.

“Cracking, Tildy. Thanks for your help.” Street handed over the woman’s pen and turned toward Khani. His gaze locked on her. The smile that had arched his mouth morphed into a hard line.

“Any time.” The registrar waved after Street.

He practically shoved Khani out the front door and into the cold. “What is it? You look like the end of days is upon us.”

“He stayed here the 10th, but didn’t come back or cancel his reservation on the 18th.”

“Looks like Mr. Polzin is due for some company.” Street opened the passenger door to the SUV. “In you go.”

“It’s only a few blocks.”

“And it’s only a few degrees from freezing my nuts off. We don't want to risk that, now do we?”

“I’ve heard castrated men are more docile.” She stepped onto the running boards, and then tucked into the vehicle. “Besides, it’s not freezing yet.”

“
You
want to make me docile, not have some wicked twist of fate do it.” His sexual undertone wasn’t lost on her. Nor was his beautiful mouth, strong and red from the cold.

He closed the door and hurried to his side. “You should probably go after Polzin. He’s a young guy. Unless he’s batting for the other team, you’re our best bet at getting information out of him.” Street pulled away from the curb and headed for the guide’s address. “And it has to be freezing. There’s bloody ice everywhere.”

“What if he is?”

“Is what?”

“Batting for the other team?”

“Then I’ll turn on the charm.” He constricted his pecks, wobbling them at her.

“It’s nice to see a man comfortable enough with his sexuality that a gay man hitting on him isn’t cause for a full scale attack.”

“Straight. Gay. A compliment is a compliment.” He popped his collar. “I haven’t heard you praise my new duds.”

“And you won’t.”

“You know,” he said, exacerbated, “they won’t let you wear jeans, a tee, and trabs to the office with the LTC title. What a bag of garbage.”

“What the hell are trabs?”

“Shoes. Tennies. Sport shoes.”

Though she’d made a concerted effort not to engage Street in talk about anything personal, she had to know what was with his accent. “I thought you were from London.”

“I am, but I spent some years—the formative ones, I guess—in Liverpool.”

“The accent comes and goes,” she conceded.

“I try to stow it completely, but old habits gob you.”

She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but agreed all the same.

Street wheeled them into a stubby driveway with a cabin at the end that looked like it had been tossed together by a drunk man. The south and west walls came together at an angle several degrees fewer than ninety. A naked bulb shined its dingy light on the two steps leading to the door. Five cars—prime candidates for junkyard scraps with their chipped paint and dents—crowded the front lawn.

Khani hadn’t eaten in hours, but her stomach churned as though she’d just binged on a triple bacon cheeseburger and chili fries. She’d never pussed out on an assignment before. Damned if she was about to start. Family or not, her personal shit had to take a backseat. Or she could gob up the one mission that mattered the most.