For a moment the world stopped. When it came back it was distant, shadowy, muffled, a dim shadow beyond the vivid touch and scent of their coupled bodies.
Scott threw back his head and sucked in a breath. He felt as if he’d run a marathon—no, a hundred-meter sprint—and won the race.
Finally he looked down at her, still wrapped tightly around him by her arms and legs. Her forehead had fallen forward against his chest. Her shoulders were quivering and he thought he heard little sobs. He lifted her face up to his. Her cheeks gleamed with tears.
“No, now. Tears? Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She looked up into his shadowed face, a smile quivering on her kiss-swollen lips. “You’re just so … intense.”
He grinned. “You’re the one. Damn, Cole.” With his thumbs he swiped the tears from her cheeks. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I—” She shook her head. Even now, trembling from the backwash of desire, she hesitated to admit her weakness for him. “I’m okay.”
He took her by the waist as she slid off his body and then held her against him a moment, as if to absorb the last of her ecstasy.
Finally he leaned a little away from her, but not enough so that she felt in any way abandoned.
She saw him check the street again, ever the police officer, as he hoisted his jeans back up over his hips and quickly fastened them. He didn’t bother to button his shirt. He helped her pull her top down from where it had rolled up her torso as they coupled and smoothed her skirt back over her hips.
Cole let him do most of the work. She was too spent to do more than sag against the wall.
The sudden roar of motorcycles into the alley from the opposite side they had entered sounded like a helicopter landing overhead.
Two riders rolled to a stop just yards away from them, their headlights throwing a glare that blinded them.
Fear, bright and icy cold, splashed through Cole. It was as if her skin had suddenly been ripped off.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God.”
Even as Scott moved in against her to shield her, she was already backing into the wall, flattening herself as if she might be able to slide between the bricks. The police officer in her had fled, leaving behind a trembling and vulnerable woman.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Don’t move.”
Scott’s whisper wasn’t necessary. Cole was too frightened to do more than shake. She heard the motors die and then sounds of jackboots scrape the pavement.
“What have we here?”
“Pussy on the half shell. Served up and waiting.” The second man dismounted.
Scott made a move with his hand, an action that was hidden by his body. “Don’t move, I’ve got this.”
“Come on, bitch, let’s see what you’re giving out in the alley.”
Cole felt him work to free his weapon but the holster tucked into the small of his back had been dislodged by their lovemaking. She heard him swear softly as the men neared them, two chilling silhouettes backlit by their headlights.
“Cole.” His breath feathered across her face as his hand slid up and gripped her shoulder hard. “When I turn around, get my weapon free.”
Before she could answer he turned toward the men and took a step, completely blocking her from view, and raised his hands. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Shit. He thinks we want trouble.”
The second man chuckled, spacing himself in case they needed to tackle Scott. “Don’t try to be a hero, friend. It’s just a bitch. Back off and it’ll be like you were never here.”
“You don’t need a knife. And I’m telling you, you don’t want to start anything.” Scott’s voice was calm, his words a signal to her that this wasn’t going to go well unless she did something. Fast.
Heart pounding so hard she could scarcely breathe, Cole slid a hand under the tail of Scott’s shirt and slowly moved it up until her fingers closed over the butt of his gun. The holster had gotten twisted. She needed both hands to free his weapon, and she was going to get only one opportunity.
“Let’s see her, junior. We want to play, too.”
“Sure.” Scott took a step forward as she jerked hard. His gun came free.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
The sound of more male voices was the last thing Cole thought she wanted until she heard them say, “Stop. Police.”
“Fuck that.” The bikers moved back to their bikes, gunned their motors, then burned rubber as they swung their motorcycles around and roared out of the alley in the opposite direction.
Scott turned his head toward Cole, a ghost of a smile on his features. “Reholster my weapon, and then don’t move or speak.”
He turned, arms raised, toward the police officers coming their way with drawn guns and flashlights. He remained so that his body almost completely shielded her.
“Step away, slowly, sir.”
“I’d rather not.” He turned his hand slowly to show he held his badge in his right hand. “DEA law enforcement.”
One of the officers shone his light on the badge.
“Who do you have with you, sir?”
“My wife.”