Southern Spirits (14 page)

The man brought her to a shuddering climax, making Cat tighten her sweaty thighs around his head, refusing release, wanting to keep him there forever.

‘Mr Ames?'

Nathan had returned to the berth, changed his shirt, texted Gordy and waited for Cat to follow. And waited. He shouldn't have gone out looking for her, but he had, and searched the public portions of the train, trying not to interrupt anyone. There was no sign of her, and his concern grew, especially after finding Newholme and hearing about the incident with Donnie Kolchak.

Now he froze at the voice, heard over the raunchy blues music from the speakers above, and turned. ‘Where's Cat?'

A flushed-looking Wheeler drew up to him, looking thoroughly embarrassed. ‘I was hoping you might wish to collect her from the kitchens. I fear that, like me, she's somewhat in her cups.'

Nathan started to reply, but didn't trust himself to remain civil, forcing his anger down as he followed Wheeler out of the carriage, his ire returning however as he found Cat in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with her back against one of the chrome refrigerator doors, her clothes dishevelled. She looked up with a broad, silly grin. ‘Hound!
Oué tal, mi grande pajiero
?'

Nathan knelt and examined her, noting the buttons done up wrong on her blouse as he opened her eyes and checked her pupils. His voice was tight as he addressed Wheeler. ‘You make a habit of getting your female passengers drunk and vulnerable?'

‘I can assure you otherwise, Mr Ames. I had intended only one or two shots each, but Ms Montoya kept . . . provoking me.'

‘I know the feeling.' He leant back as Cat slapped his hands away. ‘You OK, darlin'?'

Cat focused on him – and shot him a killer smile that, coupled with the fact her blouse was revealing her bronzed, sweat-jewelled cleavage, made his cock throb awake. ‘Oh yes, Nate.' She drew closer as if to impart a confidence. ‘But I'm afraid I've given up some of my secrets.'

Nathan's heart leapt into his throat, but he affected a casual acknowledgement of the woman's obvious drunken state. ‘Now, now, Catalina –'

Then she grabbed his shirt and informed him gravely, ‘He knows I've taken it
por el culo
.' She slapped her rear for unnecessary emphasis, adding, ‘But I don't do it any more. Feels way too good.'

‘We'll all keep that in mind.' Nathan blushed over that revelation, helping her to her feet, glancing at Wheeler. ‘I'll ask you not to get my partner into such a state again, otherwise our next conversation won't be as civil. Understood?'

The man held up his hands in surrender. ‘Fully, sir. I apologise.'

Eager to get her out of there, Nathan turned back to Cat. ‘Come on, let's get you to bed.'

She grinned. ‘Horny bastard.'

The walk back to their berth took ages. Partly because Nathan had to steer Cat and himself around passengers more interested in making love than making way. Partly because Cat would sometimes grow alert enough to try to steer him here and there for a dance.

Mostly it was because since taking her in his arms, feeling the heat from her body, he had an erection that refused to die
down. It was distracting enough to swamp his anxiety that she might have unintentionally let slip anything about their mission onboard to their chief suspect.

The side of Cat's breast brushed against him again. Jesus . . .

He locked the berth door after setting her on the edge of the bed. It was hot, the air conditioner malfunctioning for no good reason. He pushed her back down as she started to rise again and retrieved her phone from its hiding place. There was a coded text message indicating their contact had information waiting.

He was in the process of calling Gordy back when Cat moaned, ‘Nathan.'

He dropped the phone to the bed and knelt before her, grateful for the give in his trousers. ‘What is it, Cat?'

Now she focused on him. ‘I told Jack I thought he was as sexy as hell.' She held his face. ‘But you're sexier, Hound. A hundred times sexier.'

Nathan wasn't sure how to respond, except with the regulation reply honed from nature and professionalism. ‘Cat, you're drunk, we're on a mission. I made a promise –'

‘
Dios
, I'm partnered with Dudley Do-Right.' She slumped forwards, burying his face in her hair. His nostrils flared as he caught the light fragrance of her shampoo, reminding him of when he saw her earlier stripping off for a shower, and the muscles clenched in his groin.

Just then, Gordy's voice manifested from the phone. ‘Nate, you there? Or is it the delightful Catalina?'

Cat pulled back. ‘It's both of us, studmuffin –' Nathan's finger on her lips cut her off.

‘Hello?'

‘It's just Nate.' He glared sternly at Cat, ignoring how she made a lick at his finger. It wouldn't do either of them any
good to stoke the fires of rumour back at the office further. ‘Cat's out having fun.'

Cat drew back, smiling wickedly and fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. Nathan looked away tactfully, hoping that fatigue and common sense would take over and she would stay silent, get herself undressed and go to bed. ‘Well? What have you got?'

‘Donnie Kolchak is the nephew of Leonid Kolchak, head of a splinter of the Russian Mob working out of Tampa, but intelligence suggests Donnie's little better than a delivery boy, has some minor convictions. Ben Oliver worked as a train driver with Atlanta South Rail, but got laid off a year ago. Hannah Oliver has a manager's job in a bar in Plainsboro. Neither have any record to speak of, and no obvious connections with Wheeler.'

‘Hound,' Cat whispered.

He looked to her. She seemed to be having trouble managing her buttons and appeared embarrassed about it. It was a vulnerability, coupled with her innate attractiveness, that made it harder for him – on many levels. He would help undress her – just down to her underwear – and put her to bed, and that was it. Nothing more. She'd thank him in the morning.

‘Nate, you still there?'

Nathan watched Cat now as he undid the buttons on her blouse. ‘Yeah, Gordy. Keep talking.'

‘Tara Gilbrand's family is one of the wealthier in Atlanta. Various local authorities have hired Tara as a psychic investigator and consultant, with some apparent success. Richard Newholme runs an antiques business in Boston, specialising in railroad memorabilia. Clean record, pays his taxes religiously, and the last return included the business dealings he had with Wheeler.'

Nathan nearly fully listened. He was focused on the way
Cat's breasts heaved within her black lace bra, ellipses of sweat framing the darker skin of her cleavage, and her nipples pursing behind the arabesque-patterned cups. And when he looked up, she fed his reaction further with a hungry gaze and a lick of those full lips of hers, as she slipped out of her blouse with a grace she hadn't displayed moments before, her hands clinging to the edge of the mattress as she cambered her back, pushing her breasts out.

Good Lord. ‘What about Faye Scott, Gordy?'

‘Oh yeah. String of petty fraud convictions, some civil suits from people swindled in fake exorcisms, all dropped. Nothing outstanding. I'll send you the full details on them all.'

‘Uh huh.' Nathan's head swam as Cat took his hands and moved them purposefully, undeniably, to the waistband of her skirt, smiling impishly.

He'd get her shoes and skirt off, and put her to bed. And that would be it. His fingers fumbled, as Cat kicked off her shoes and lifted her rear up, enough to let him slide her skirt down over her bronzed thighs and shins. Now his eyes fixed, unashamedly, on her panties, on their black lace caress of her sex. His hands moved over her warm thighs, relishing the smooth touch, and his head spun as his cock strained further inside his clothes.

No. He had to be the responsible one, had to pull back and put her to bed. Even as he acknowledged how much he was enjoying this.

He was rising to his knees when Cat pulled him into a kiss, swooping on him and pulling him so that he practically fell on top of her. They struggled, until he pinned her arms above her head. ‘Damn it, Cat, stop this right now or –'

‘Or what, you fucking
puta
?'

He kissed her, ostensibly just to shut her up, though still savouring the feel of his lips on hers and the heat of her mouth
as his tongue explored it. She moaned into his mouth, and ground her thigh against the lust-stiffened cock still restrained within his clothes. He tasted her desire, as strong as the alcohol on her breath.

It was that reminder that made him pull from her mouth, though he still kept her wrists pinned. ‘Ca– Cat, no.'

She looked up at him from under heavy lids, her dark hair spread out on the mattress like black flames. ‘Damn it Nathan, say
yes.
I am as horny as you. I think maybe we just need to fuck and get it out of our system. Otherwise we won't be able to do our jobs.'

‘Uh, you guys know I'm still on the line, don't you?'

Grimacing, Nathan reached out, lifted the phone long enough to say, ‘Call you in the morning,' before hanging up and tossing it to the nearby couch. ‘Awww, Lord.' He glared at her as she giggled. ‘Hey, at least you're drunk, you have an excuse.'

Her giggles blossomed into a smile. ‘Oh my, you know, I think I probably
am
a little drunk. Who knows what could happen next . . .'

‘What? Next?
No!
I couldn't do anything, Cat. I'd regret it in the morning.'

‘Hmm, such a dilemma.' The playfulness in her voice was obvious and hugely endearing ‘So, if you did do anything, you'd feel guilty for taking advantage . . . and yet if I let you waste this opportunity, you'll have nothing to remember on this trip of a lifetime. I can't let that happen, Nathan.' Her voice was like honey, kittenish and deliberately vulnerable. ‘So, really, you're gonna regret it either way,
hombre.
At least if you give in we'll both get some relief. Think about it. Either I'm so drunk that I won't remember any of this, or I'm not that drunk and I know precisely what I'm saying. It's the perfect opt out.' She smiled again. ‘What was it you told me during the Christmas
Incident? “The one thing you can know about me is that if I go to hell, it won't be for not trying . . .”'

He took in her words, then caught her as she swayed a little and fell forwards. She threw her arms around his neck and giggled playfully as Nathan lowered her onto the bed. She refused to let go of him and pulled him down on top of her. ‘OK, Cat, OK. How about we just lie here a while and get some much-needed rest, all right?'

She pouted. ‘OK. But get those trousers off. They're rough against my legs.'

He doubted that, but relented, kicking off his shoes and socks and removing his trousers, hoping that as soon as she relaxed and the rhythm of the train took over, she'd drift off with her dignity intact, and he could take care of himself while she slept.

It seemed to be going well; he stroked her hair and whispered encouragements to her. Cat closed her eyes, pulled him in close to her, nuzzled into his chest. Until lazily, half-dozing there, her soft fingers tracing small circles on his chest, she gently undid the buttons of his shirt and planted soft kisses on his shoulder.

Somehow, his hands wandered too, along the small of her back, feeling the soft downy skin and relishing her hips pushing closer to his as he cupped her sweet ass. An imperceptibly small shift left them face to face, Nathan acutely aware that his hard-on was pressing insistently against her tummy. Without a word, Cat reached behind and unclipped her bra, removing it with a minimum of effort, then gently slipped back resting against his bared chest. Her breasts felt soft, warm and heavenly against him . . .

Finally, the last reserves of his resistance melted away, and he embraced her, hungrily kissing her open mouth, the heat of her body penetrating him through his briefs. As if reading
his mind, Cat's hands were there, slipping under the band and rolling them down.

‘Wait. Cat, are you sure?' Nathan breathed.

She didn't answer, but took his hand and guided it under her own panties, letting his fingers dance over her wetness, giving him his answer and punctuating it with a wry smile as he gazed at her flushed face.

‘Mmm, I guess you are,' he whispered, removing his briefs and releasing his cock. Pulling him back next to her, Cat took his hands back to her sex, lifting her hips as his fingers grazed her moist folds. He felt her push against his fingers, squirming with delight as he left light, tantalising kisses on her neck and throat, and then her nipples, driving her wild. Relentlessly he brushed over her bush and continued working her pussy, his fingers slipping into the sensitive wet niche.

As Nathan caressed her, his lips still on her breasts, Cat moaned and throbbed to his attentions, grinding her sex shamelessly against his hand. He felt her building, building, then cascading over as she let out a sharp, ‘
Puta!
' She spasmed beneath him, then collapsed, trying to catch her breath. When she recovered, she looked wide-eyed up at him and asked breathlessly, ‘What are you waiting for, Nathan?'

He wondered that himself, and he watched as she made her way up to the head of the bed, even as he followed, moving like a predator cornering his prey.

Cat's eyes locked with his, strengthening his resolve that this was the right thing to do, as she parted her thighs and raised her knees up. Nathan held her legs and guided himself into her until he filled her up. Cat's mouth opened and she let out a groan of intense satisfaction, one he echoed as he rocked back and forth, withdrawing and then plunging back into her silky depths, repeatedly, fighting to control his need for release.

A fight he lost when Cat wrapped her arms and legs around him, biting his neck and swearing in full Cuban, and he rode her with a faster, harder pace. He was losing control, and for once didn't mind, pumping into her, in and out, as if racing the unending rhythm of the train.