Tempt Me (21 page)

He wound his way through the maze back to the main hallway, the heels of his heavy boots banging against the carpeted floor. The vibrations radiated up his legs. When he reached Lukas’s office, he shoved the door open. “Lukas, damn you. I—”

Empty. He was talking to thin air.

About-facing, he stalked back into the hallway. Next door in the break room, he heard the murmur of Antonia’s voice, and Lukas and Jack laughing in response to whatever she’d said. How dare they amuse themselves, relaxing and having fun, when Bailey was running herself ragged?

He strode to the break room, stood in the doorway and stared. Antonia, still cuddling her tablet, saw him first. “Uh oh. Someone’s pissed.”

“Gee, ya think?” He glared at all of them, but pointed at his brother. “Your office. Now.” He went back to Lukas’s office, clenching and unclenching his fists. Though he was a pacifist by nature, he knew how to throw a decent punch—and one of his fists just might connect with his brother’s face pretty soon, gallery show be damned.

He paced the small space as he waited. So many computers, so many blinking lights. Lukas’s office was pretty much an Emergency Command Center, with the largest of the monitors on his desk displaying the Hot Sheet. Yellow and green rows scrolled by, each one representing a call received by their police force. The minute a Code Red hit the Hot Sheet, Lukas went to the crime scene. His brother’s ability to tie a taste to an emotional signature, courtesy of his genetic glitch, sometimes supplied a key clue or a lead that Gideon and his team could then follow up.

Lukas walked into the office, closing the door behind him with a snap. “What’s your problem?”

Blood pulsed in his temples. “What’s the problem? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lukas eyed him carefully, his nostrils flaring. “Throttle back so we can talk.” He gestured to his visitor’s chair.

Fuck that. “I’ll stand. Have you seen Bailey lately?”

“Please, sit down.” Lukas walked to the other side of his desk. “I think she’s in The Bunker, taking a nap.”

“She’s practically passed out!” He paced, purposely knocking into Lukas with his shoulder as he passed. His brother’s lips tightened, but he didn’t reciprocate, damn it. “She’s exhausted.”

“Aren’t we all.” Lukas dropped into his oversized desk chair. “Will you sit, damn it?”

He threw himself into the chair Lukas had indicated. “What the hell is going on here? Have you all lost your bloody minds?”

Lukas’s eyes flicked to the Hot Sheet.

Did he even realize he’d done it? His brother was always on duty, but that didn’t mean Bailey had to be, or that she should even try. Her little body just couldn’t handle it.

“Blame Wyatt Cooper,” Lukas said wearily.

Having worked for nearly three days straight, Rafe was operating on next to no sleep, catching catnaps in snatches and food on the fly. Even hearing Cooper’s name on Lukas’s lips worked his last frayed nerve.

“Bailey and Cheyenne are getting pinged around the clock.” Lukas reached for the large plastic bottle of antacids that sat on his desk, shook three tablets out with a clatter, and popped them in his mouth. “She was woken up again last night, and got pulled out of a meeting a couple of hours ago.” He crunched on the tablets and swallowed them. “I swear he’s toying with her, but Bailey says not. According to her, Cooper and his hired guns are in a reconnaissance phase, poking around the edges of the network but not actually making a serious attempt to penetrate.”

“If they’re not trying to penetrate, why does she need to respond so urgently?”

“She says she can learn about how to fight them by watching what they poke, and how. But so far she hasn’t gotten a handle on them—other than to confirm that Cooper can’t possibly be working alone.”

So she hadn’t gotten any decent sleep in days, since she’d left his bed. Well, she’d damn well be back there, and sleeping, before the moon rose tonight if he had to carry her out of there himself.

Lukas leaned back and stared at the ceiling, the big leather desk chair creaking alarmingly. “If he’s using human accomplices, building the case against him is going to be tricky.”

His brother was already looking ahead to Cooper’s arrest and eventual prosecution, and humans were out of their justice system’s jurisdiction. The thought of Wyatt Cooper doing some serious time, and finally paying for what he’d done to Bailey so many years ago, was satisfying, but he had more immediate concerns. Bailey simply couldn’t keep up this pace; she was burning out before their eyes. “Lukas, how would you manage all this work if Bailey wasn’t here?”

“I don’t want to even think about it.”

Yeah, there was more than a whiff of panic there. “If she doesn’t get some rest soon, you’re going to have to,” he said. “Haven’t you noticed that she’s about to drop? Working around the clock isn’t a long-term solution—for anyone.”

Lukas looked at him. “Life must be pretty comfortable over on that side of the desk.”

The comment hit him like a grenade. He absorbed the shrapnel, felt it slice deep. Growing up in Lukas’s shadow had been a challenge and a half, but he’d honed his own skills and talents, forged his own path, outside the so-called family business. This was the first time Lukas had ever—

“Strike that.” Lukas held up a weary hand. “I didn’t mean—”

“I think you did, and fair enough.”

“No, it’s not. And I’m sorry.” Lukas raked his hands through his hair.

Rafe nodded, accepting his apology. The edgy defensiveness was gone, replaced by guilt and true remorse. Lukas’s emotions were whip-sawing all over the place.

“I owe you a free shot.”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth tugged up in a grin. When they were young and shared a bedroom, they’d play a game where they’d trade punches, with the first to make an audible sound of pain losing. It hadn’t mattered that the winner didn’t actually win anything. “I’ll bank it, thanks.” His smile slowly disappeared. “When I leave here today, I’m taking Bailey with me.”

Lukas snorted a laugh. “Like she’d actually get any sleep.”

Rafe shot to his feet. “Do you really think I’d disregard her exhaustion just to get laid?” He slapped his hands on the desk, leaning over and glaring down at Lukas. “If great sex was all I wanted, I could get it anywhere, have it with anyone, and you know it.”

“Rafe—”

“Do you really think that I’m incapable of deeper feelings? That I don’t want the type of lasting relationship, the happiness, you have with Scarlett? That Dad has with Claudette?” He straightened. “That I couldn’t find it with her?”

The door suddenly opened. “Half the floor can hear you yelling,” Jack said.

About how he could have great sex with anyone he wanted. Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “Sorry. We—I’m out of here.” He felt the weight of Jack’s hard stare as he walked to the door. When he reached it, he glanced back at Lukas. “You do us both a disservice.”

He closed the door behind him, leaving Lukas to deal with Jack.

Antonia stood in the hallway, watching. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Can you get me back into The Bunker?”

“I can do better than that.” She indicated the tablet she still held cradled in her arms. “Follow me.”

When they arrived at the fortified security door, she gestured to the matte black palm pad. “Hold your hand there until I say drop.” He did as she asked, holding his hand against the pad while she swiped and tapped. Finally, the tablet chimed, the door clicked, and the tiny light switched from red to green. “And
voila
!” she crowed. “Access is yours.”

He stared at her. The little twerp had given him access to a secured area with a couple of taps on a tablet, and without asking anyone for permission.

“Let’s test it out.”

Stepping back, Rafe waited for the door lock to engage again, for the light to turn back to red, and repeated the sequence. The door clicked, the light turned green.

“After palming in, you have a seven second window before the locks re-engage.”

“Okay.”

“Rafe...” She hesitated. “Cut Lukas some slack. He’s wrong, and he knows it. He’s under a lot of stress right now.”

And so was she. “Come here.” He hugged her, scrubbing his knuckles against her head, kissing the tip of her nose. Lukas was right about one thing. He and Sasha were able to pursue their own interests because of Lukas’s and Antonia’s skills, interests, and abilities. Hell, he’d likely be sitting in the Incubus Second chair right now if not for his little sister, the diabolical genius. “Thank you,” he said.

“No problem.” She grinned. “It was really easy.”

He’d let her think he was thanking her for getting him into The Bunker for now. “Okay. Bailey is officially off the clock until 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. If you call her, ping her, text her, email her, instant message her, or attempt to contact her using any mechanism currently known to man or beast, I’ll shave you bald.”

“You’d have to catch me first.”

“Try me.”

Nostrils flaring, she assessed him. Her right eyebrow rose, Spock-like, before she nodded.

He kissed her nose again. “Now scoot.”

She turned and walked away with an emphatic flip of her long hair, but her approval followed him through the door to The Bunker.

***

“M
mm.” Bailey didn’t have to open her eyes to know exactly who brushed snowflake-soft kisses against her lips, barely a touch before melting away.

Rafe. He’d awakened her with a kiss, but unlike those chaste Disney princesses, she didn’t have to wake up, marry the prince, and rule the kingdom. She could simply enjoy. “Come back here,” she murmured, threading her fingers into drifts of hair to pull him closer.

The moments stretched and pulled as their lips clung and separated. He tasted like exotic tropical fruit, or coconut-spiked rum. Sunny, sunny Rafe, her wicked, cheerful sunbeam, warming her in winter, the sunlight to her shade. She reluctantly opened her eyes and focused. Rafe was smiling down at her, his hair curtaining their faces. “How did you get in?”

“Antonia.”

He was kneeling beside the futon, his upper body leaning over hers. She wanted to feel his weight, have him press her back into the plush fabric. When she lifted a hand to cup his cheekbone, he leaned into her touch like a sleek desert cat, voluptuous pleasure tightening his features.

She glanced at the door, willing it to stay closed. How much weight would the futon hold? Maybe she could talk him into staying for a while, taking a break.

She’d barely finished the thought when Rafe gave her a pursed-lipped smooch. Pushing to his feet, he took her hands in a gentle grasp and tugged her to a seated position. The bundle of blankets dropped to her waist, revealing her threadbare New Kids on the Block T-shirt. “Come on,” he said, jerking the blanket away. “This is a jail break.”

“What?” she squawked. “I can’t leave.” She looked, wild-eyed, at the piles of work sitting on tables and chairs around the room. She had so much to do. A draft of the proposal that Elliott had requested they fast-track lay on the floor at Rafe’s feet; she’d been fleshing out the technology infrastructure section when tiredness had overtaken her. She and Wyland had narrowed the location to three specific sites, and a very unhappy Chico was leaving next week to check them out in person. In a little less than five months, she’d probably be in Alaska, living in a trailer. Alone, for months on end.

Screw her work. Thoughts of Alaska’s midnight sun were no match for Rafe’s liquid sunshine gaze. “Okay, let’s go.”

Rafe looked surprised.

Clearly he’d expected her to put up a fight.
Nope. Not this time
. “Your place?”

“Sure.” His eyes searched hers as he pulled her to her feet, probably waiting for the ‘gotcha’.

It was all she could do to not step closer to his heat, to hold on tightly to his lean, muscled frame. She stepped back, ignoring the pinch in her heart. “Give me a few minutes to tie up some loose ends.” Tonight, she’d follow Elliott’s delegation advice with a vengeance.

Rafe sat on the futon she’d just vacated, suspiciously eyeing the piles of paper. “You can follow me home in your car.” He picked up her reading glasses. “Will you put these on for me? Please?” He wiggled his brows lecherously.

“You’re nuts.” She snatched them from his hand, folded the bows, and set them next to the computer she was about to use. By the time she dropped onto her rolling stool, she was already deep in thought. After a quick email to Cheyenne, she’d be ready to go.

Cheyenne would have to handle Wyatt’s shenanigans without her help tonight. 

––––––––

W
hen he’d called Cheyenne to ask if she wanted to go out, Wyatt had envisioned a night at Underbelly or First Avenue, or maybe sharing some wine and appetizers at an intimately-lit downtown restaurant. He
hadn’t
envisioned holding a flashlight for Cheyenne as she knelt in a mound of snow, digging at the base of a tree with a gardening trowel in the dark. “People actually find this enjoyable? Worth $10,000?”

Cheyenne didn’t look up. “Yeah. Look around.”

Even though it was after eight p.m. on a weeknight, they were far from alone. Apparently hundreds of other people thought that today’s Winter Carnival Medallion hunt clue, when added to the clues that had already been published, added up to Como Park. The park had a festive tailgate feel, crowded with singletons, couples, families and groups laden down with blankets, backpacks and Thermoses. Everyone was digging in the snow, using implements varying from bare hands to the biggest snow shovel Wyatt had ever seen.

The bank thermometer across the street read an ungodly -5 F., and the scent of cheerful competition hovered like visible breath.

This was nuts.

Cheyenne threw a side-eye at two nearby men, and started digging harder. “It’s here. I can smell it. Look at all the media trucks, all the cameras.” She indicated the local news station vans parked along the street with a jerk of her head.

“I hope you’re right,” he said, teeth chattering. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I’ll warm you up later.”