The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Read online

  Marissa’s stomach turned. Her nice, neat world of numbers and tax returns had flipped off its axis, and now she was calmly discussing strippers and coke dealers and hookers as if they were everyday things for her. She’d taken such great pains to avoid all the unsavory things that her father had been involved in. Now there she was, splat in the middle of the seamiest, darkest, most dangerous scenario she could envision.

  It boggled her mind that people chose this way of life. Undoubtedly her brother had tried his best to shield her from it, but he was living with it every day. And Clint … he claimed to be walking the right side of the fence, but he was still part of that world.

  How could she be so drawn to a man who deliberately enmeshed himself in such things? Hell, she was more than simply drawn to him. She was falling for him faster than a loose pebble down a mine shaft. The thought of Eddie actually succeeding with his plan to get rid of Clint filled her with a fear so elemental, it actually made her tremble.

  And that was what kept her from simply walking away.

  Marissa and Sophia took plates of sandwiches outside to the porch, where they found the two men with their heads together, deep in conversation. The appearance of food put a temporary halt to the conference. Marissa had intended to simply leave the food and disappear again, but Clint insisted the women stay.

  Marissa found a sunny spot on the porch steps to sit and munch her sandwich. She tried not to look at Clint, because every time she saw him with that strong, unshaven jaw and those steely eyes, her stomach swooped, and she knew her brother wasn’t the only one in way, way over his head.

  “You ladies will be happy to know that Jimmy and I have reached an agreement,” Clint announced. “We’ll be working together until the arrests are made.”

  “Ooh, I like this already,” Sophia said. “I’ve always wanted to be part of a conspiracy. What do I get to do?”

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. “We’re not all working together. It’s dangerous, baby. That’s why you’re going to the airport this afternoon. You’re going to visit your mother in Yonkers, and you’ll stay there till this mess is over with.”

  Sophia opened her mouth to object, but she clamped it shut again when Jimmy shook his finger at her in warning. Instead she folded her arms and pouted.

  “What about me?” Marissa asked, afraid of the answer.

  “Is there someone you can stay with?” Clint asked. “I’d take you home, but I don’t know how safe you’ll be. I’m not sure who, at this point, is on Eddie’s endangered list.”

  So, that was the plan. She’d gotten Clint together with Jimmy, and now she’d outlived her usefulness. It occurred to her that if she complacently let Clint cut her out of the picture, she would probably never see him again.

  “There’s no one I can stay with,” she declared. “Besides, I figure you two macho men could use some help, whatever you’re planning.”

  Clint was already shaking his head. “No way. You’re staying firmly out of the line of fire.”

  She was on her feet, hands on hips. “You listen to me, Clint Nichols. I didn’t ask to be included in this house party. I was minding my own business when you broke into my brother’s boat, tied me up, and held me hostage. But I’m a part of it now. You may think you’re calling all the shots, but I have news for you. This is a cooperative effort—and all my idea, I might add. I have a stake in this thing, too, and I intend to see it through.”

  Clint tried to placate her. “We’re just going to do a little snooping at the Foxhunt tonight after hours,” he said. “No big deal. I don’t need an extra person to worry about.”

  “As if you’ve done such a sterling job of taking care of me so far?” Now she was really steamed. “Either I go with you, or I go straight to the FBI.”

  Clint’s eyes narrowed. “I could tie you up here and leave you.”

  The air crackled with tension. Jimmy and Sophia watched wide-eyed, but neither of them intervened.

  “Still solving your problems with brute force, I see.”

  He tried another tack. “Marissa, be reasonable. This is dangerous—”

  “You’ve already put me in danger. Need I remind you, you almost drowned me? Or I could have burned to death tied to that bunk on the Phen-Hu.”

  That silenced Clint. He looked down at his plate.

  “I’ve saved your bacon twice, Ace. You might just need me again.” She’d played all her cards now. The idea of Clint actually needing her was laughable—and intriguing as hell.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Marissa sat back down with a “hmmph.”

  Clint made several more calls on the cell phone, most of them while he paced up and down the driveway, out of earshot of the others. He made airline reservations for Sophia, then called her a taxi despite Jimmy’s objections that he could put his own wife on a plane.

  “It’s not inconceivable that someone could be looking for your car at the airport,” Clint said quietly. “Eddie didn’t sound too happy when you evaded his questions. He might get it into his head that you’re planning to skip town.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Jimmy finally said.

  Sophia was teary-eyed when the taxi arrived. She gave Jimmy at least a dozen warnings to be careful, then kissed him passionately in full view of everyone before sprinting to the cab and climbing inside.

  Marissa was tired, but the affectionate display moved her anyway. She’d always thought they made a cute couple. She hoped their marriage would survive whatever fate awaited them.

  “I’m beat,” Jimmy announced as the taxi pulled out of sight. “I was up all night, worrying about what you were doing to my sister.” He curled his lip at Clint, but the snarl turned into a yawn. “Are there any beds in this joint?”

  “Some pillows and blankets on the floor in one of the upstairs bedrooms,” Marissa answered.

  “Great. Sounds like a slumber party.” He scuffed his way inside and slammed the screen door.

  “That’s where I was planning to crash,” Clint said. “It’s going to be another long night. We all need to get some sleep.”

  “Shouldn’t someone stay awake? You know, to keep watch?”

  Clint shrugged. “No one knows we’re here. No one besides Eddie is even interested in where we are right now, and for sure he doesn’t know about this house.” “You’re sure no one followed us?”

  “Positive.”

  “And the FBI isn’t going to come crashing in here to arrest everyone?”

  “No.”

  He sounded pretty sure of himself. Then again, he’d been sure that Jimmy had kidnapped or killed Rachelle. “If we’re both going to sleep, I want it to be in the same room.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “That wasn’t a proposition. I simply want to be behind you if bullets start to fly.” That was something of a lie. Truthfully, with everything going on right now, she was just plain scared to be alone. She was utterly sure that Clint would protect her, even in sleep.

  “All right.” He didn’t sound entirely pleased. “I think there might be another couple of pillows in that linen cupboard. We can crash down here in the living room.”

  Clint climbed the stairs, his shoulders slightly bent, his head bowed. She wasn’t the only one suffering from exhaustion, she realized. He returned a moment later with one pillow, a long, king-sized one, then held it out to her with a shrug.

  “You can have it,” they both said at the same time.

  “Why don’t we share,” Marissa said. “It’s a big pillow. We’ll each take one end.”

  He shrugged again. “Sure.”

  In moments they’d both flopped onto the floor, their bodies pointing away from each other. Marissa wiggled against the carpeted floor, trying to get comfortable. She punched the pillow a couple of times until she got it shaped right.

  She’d thought herself a bit daring in suggesting they share a pillow, but this was pretty safe, she concluded. They couldn’t touch even if they wanted to. They couldn’t even see eac
h other.

  “Comfortable?” she asked.

  He answered her with a soft snore.

  She fell asleep almost instantly, and she slept like the proverbial log, despite the less-than-luxurious accommodations. When she woke some time later, she at least felt rested if a bit stiff. She yawned, stretched, then froze.

  Someone was playing with her hair.

  NINE

  “I sure hope that’s you, Clint.”

  Clint gave a low, deliberately sexy laugh. He’d slept hard and well and had awakened feeling halfway human. Unfortunately, human for him also meant male. He’d been achingly aware of Marissa lying a few feet away. He could hear her gentle breathing. He could smell her.

  He’d turned over and found her dark, silky hair spilled in luxuriant disarray all over the pillow. Without giving it too much thought, he’d started combing it with his fingers. It really did feel like silk. He’d pressed his face against it, inhaling the fresh scent of motel soap and Marissa.

  And then she’d caught him. Darn.

  She flipped over onto her stomach, whipping her hair out of his light grasp, then propped her chin on her hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Playing with your hair.” Their faces were only inches apart.

  “Why?”

  “Because I woke up with it in my face,” he fibbed. “You have really nice hair.”

  “Oh, please. My stylist would go into cardiac arrest if she could see me now.”

  “I like it. You know, before last night I’d never seen you. I’d seen pictures, and once I watched you through a telescope when you went to your brother’s house. But I was still surprised when I saw you up close. I didn’t realize how beautiful you were.”

  She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What are you doing? Why the come-on all of a sudden?”

  Man, his technique must have slipped all to hell. He couldn’t remember ever paying a woman such a compliment—an honest one at that—and having her throw it back in his face. “Guess it’s been a long time since I was with a woman.”

  Judging from her frown, she didn’t like that answer.

  “Maybe,” he tried again, “it’s because this is the first five minutes we’ve been together that we weren’t frantic about something or other. I find myself almost uncontrollably attracted to you, and I’m just doing what I naturally do when I’m in that state.”

  “Coming on.”

  “If you want to call it that. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too. I haven’t forgotten that kiss.”

  She blushed to the tips of her ears. “So, I kissed you.”

  “So, I played with your hair. You wanted an explanation. You got it.” He fell silent, crossing his forearms in front of him and resting his cheek against them, so he didn’t have to look at her. He was such a liar. He could only hope that he’d made her mad enough with his flip lines that she’d leave it alone. Because if she gave him even the slightest encouragement, he was a goner.

  He wasn’t supposed to touch her. To do so could bring disastrous results. Not only was it reprehensible of him to sleep with his hostage—his former hostage, he reminded himself—it was also dangerous. He didn’t need the distraction.

  Why had he touched her damn hair, anyway?

  “Clint?”

  “Yes?” He replied without even raising his head. If he looked into her eyes, he’d be lost.

  “Is what we’re doing tonight really dangerous? I mean, could we be killed?”

  “I haven’t decided whether to let you go or not. And yes, we could be shot down like stray dogs in a ghetto if Eddie finds us there. I do not underestimate the man’s ruthlessness, especially now that the net is closing in on him.”

  “Then maybe we should go to the authorities.”

  “I am the authorities.”

  “Oh, Clint, I’m not an idiot. Your superior has no idea what you’re doing, and he wouldn’t allow it if he knew.”

  “That’s why we can’t go to him. If Neil McCormick found out that I’d compromised this investigation, the best we could hope for is that he would order the arrests of everyone we have the goods on so far—including Jimmy. We’d get a search warrant for the Foxhunt. And the Big Boss, the one we really want, would slither out of sight. He’d find another pipeline onto the streets.”

  “So instead you’re going to risk your life.”

  “It’s a calculated risk. And it’s not illegal. Jimmy technically owns that club, and he can let in anybody he wants.”

  “What do you hope to find?”

  “A name, a phone number, a bank account—something that will lead me to the man I’m looking for.”

  Marissa paused, then declared, “I’m going with you.”

  “Marissa—”

  “Three of us can search faster than two. We’ll get in and out quicker that way. Please, Clint. I don’t think I could stand staying behind, waiting, not knowing if you’re okay.”

  “Gee, honey, I didn’t know you cared,” he quipped.

  “Well, I do, dammit. Don’t ask me why.”

  The catch in her voice moved him as nothing else could have. She was right, there was no reason for her to care. But she obviously did.

  Clint raised his head. She was looking at him, her dark eyes telltale shiny. Something lodged in his throat. He couldn’t stop looking at her, drinking in the emotion he saw reflected on her face. She seemed to have stopped breathing. So had he.

  To hell with it. He leaned forward, grabbed a handful of that magnificent, tangled hair, and kissed her.

  The first contact was explosive. The entirety of Clint’s consciousness focused on the feel of her soft, responsive lips against his—and his reaction, lower down in his body.

  Marissa suddenly broke the kiss and rolled over onto her back, off the pillow. She was almost gasping for air, her unbound breasts rising and falling beneath the cranberry shirt. Her nipples, which had barely shown through before, were straining against the soft cotton in rigid peaks. “Clint …”

  He tossed the pillow out of the way. His skin was on fire; his hands itched to touch those breasts. He moved in closer, ready to reclaim the embrace, ready to soothe away any objections she might have.

  He didn’t have to. Whatever she’d been about to say, she decided against it. In a move that took his breath away, she reached behind his neck and pulled him down to her. The next thing he knew he was lying on top of her, his hands buried in her hair, his legs tangled with hers.

  His arousal pressed against her belly. She had to feel it, had to know how little control he really had right now. But she showed no hesitation. Her hands were under his shirt, lightly raking the bare skin of his back with her nails. Her hips wiggled provocatively against him, driving him insane.

  Worried that he would crush her, he rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him. Other than to quickly move her hands to his chest, she didn’t even break rhythm. Though his own brain was in a fog of thick and murky desire, he was still aware enough to realize that if one of them didn’t do something, clothes were going to fly, and he would make love to Marissa Gabriole right there on the living room floor—with her brother sleeping upstairs.

  He tried to make himself stop kissing her, but he couldn’t.

  Finally it was Marissa who broke the kiss. She slumped against him, panting. “You son of a—”

  “Pardon?” What the hell had he done now?

  “How could you do this to me?”

  “I haven’t done anything … yet.”

  “You made me want you. You’re impossible. You represent everything I despise—violence and crime and things nice people don’t talk about.” There was no animosity in her voice, only frustration. “I haven’t rolled around on the floor with a boy since I was seventeen.”

  “I’m not a boy.” Even if he was acting like a hormone-driven teenager.

  “I noticed. And I’m not seventeen. But we can’t have sex right here with my brother sleeping upstairs.”

  Surprised by his own burs
t of energy, Clint was on his feet in seconds, dragging Marissa with him. “If that’s your only objection.…”

  “Where are we going?” But she didn’t balk as he led her through the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Off the kitchen there was a laundry room with a door. And a lock.

  Giving her little chance to object, he closed and locked the door. Light from one tiny window illuminated the closet-sized room, but barely. Marissa’s eyes grew wide as he backed her up against the wall and yanked the hem of her shirt from her jeans. “I’m going to make love to you. Now. I’m not usually this pushy, but I don’t know when or if we’ll ever get another chance. Things are going to move pretty quickly after tonight. I’ll either be in jail or in hiding.”

  As he made this speech—a cohesive collection of thoughts, considering the state he was in—he’d reached under her shirt to caress her breasts. They were incredibly warm and soft.

  She closed her eyes and threw her head back. An uninterpretable sound came from her throat.

  With his last bit of conscience, he said, “If you have any objections, make them now.”

  She shook her head.

  “Then please tell me you’re on the pill,” he said, almost desperate. “ ’Cause I sure as hell don’t have anything here.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t care.”

  Well, he did, dammit. He wanted to leave Marissa with memories, not a baby. Why did he suddenly have to develop scruples?

  She whipped her shirt over her head, revealing her creamy breasts to his hungry eyes.

  “Oh, Marissa.” She was pulling out all the stops. No fair.

  Next she shimmied out of her jeans and panties in one movement. “C’mon, Ace,” she taunted him. “You started this thing. Finish it.” She took his hand and guided it to the gently swelling mound at the apex of her thighs. She quivered at his first touch to the silky curls that shrouded her femininity, then whimpered as he slid his fingers between her warm folds.

  Clint closed his eyes and held on to the edge of the washing machine, afraid his knees would buckle, as he reveled in the intimate caress.

  She climaxed in seconds, muffling her cries of ecstasy against his shoulder. Then she slumped against him, crying in earnest. “I’m sorry, Clint.”