Blaze of Glory (8 page)

Still,
he
felt
compelled
to
apologize
for
his
foul
language.

“Sorry.
Just
worried
about
this
mess,”
he
bluffed
rather
than
acknowledge
his
raging
hardon
begging
for release
from
his
khakis.

Felicia’s
hands
moved
along
his
neck,
one
long
fingernail
gently
scratching.
Deliberately?
“The
alarm should
hush
up
soon.”

“Probably
just
a
test.
If
so,
we
shouldn’t
be
in
here
much
longer
now.”

“Uhhuh,”
she
answered
with
a
little
wriggle
of
her
hips
as
if
trying
to
find
space
away,
which
made
it blatantly
apparent
she
must
be
aware
of
his
discomfort.
Now
he
had
his
chin
resting
on
the
top
of
her
head, her
abundant
black
curls
teasing
his
skin.

Discomfort?
Uhuh.
His
outright
mindexploding,
agonizing
need
to
be
inside
this
woman.

Talk.Discuss
normal,
bland
subjects
so
no
one
else
would
guess.
“Do
you
know
of
any
tests
scheduled
for tonight?”

“No.
But
that
doesn’t
mean
anything,
right?
There
are
always
things
going
on
around
here
that
nobody
else knows
about,
especially
at
night
when
there
are
fewer
people
around.” He
tensed
in
a
totally
different
but
no
less
uncomfortable
way.
Was
she
probing
him
for
information?
And speaking
of
probing.

“Hell.”

Her
lips
pursed
and
she
crossed
herself
a
second
time.

All
right
then.
What
kind
of
spy
crossed
herself
when
a
man
cursed?
Just
to
test
her—and
maybe
for
a
little fun
because
there
hadn’t
been
any
fun
in
his
life
for…well…pretty
much
never—here
went
the
test.
“Shit, it’s
hot
as
hell
in
here.”

Her
eyes
narrowed,
although
still
she
crossed
herself
twice,
which
rubbed
her
elbow
mighty
close
to
his source
of
discomfort,
damn
it
all.

Alarms
still
blaring
in
the
compound
and
his
body,
he
gripped
her
shoulders.
“Be
still.”

“Uh,
I
am.
I
mean,
I’m
trying,
but
these
high
heels
hurt
so
I
can’t
stand
in
one
position
very
long.” He
understood
well
the
concept
of
pain
and
the
need
to
fidget
and
smell
her
hair
with
its
floral
scent.
“Keep trying,
unless
you
want
to
embarrass
us
both
a
lot
more.”

Her
voice
lowered
to
a
husky
whisper,
her
hair
tickling
his
shoulders
as
she
brought
her
lips
close
to
his
ear and
out
of
hearing
of
the
two
data
programmers
beside
them.
“Can
you
imagine
how
many
students
are making
out
right
now?”

“You’re
not
helping
my
current
situation.”

“Sorry.”
She
eased
back.
“Sorta.”
She
grinned.
“Okay,
not
at
all.
It’s
just
that
while,
well,
this
may
be
a
bit weird
and
so
embarrassing,
it’s
also
a
lovely
compliment.”

“Lovely?”
He
leaned
to
whisper
in
her
ear,
making
sure
to
brush
his
fiveo’clock
shadow
across
her
cheek in
what
he
hoped
was
a
mimicking
torture.
“I’m
not
so
sure
I
like
you
calling
my
d—” Her
hand
reached
for
her
forehead
in
the
start
of
a
cross—

“Catholic
schools?”
he
said.

She
nodded.

“Then
could
you
think
of
another
word
for
my
manhood?”

“How
about
if
I
admit
it’s
ahuge
temptation?”

Huge?
“Better.”
Much.

Although
he
couldn’t
believe
they
were
having
this
conversation.
Sheesh.
How
old
was
she
again?
His photographic
memory
cited
her
at
thirtyeight
but
she
could
easily
pass
for
thirty.
What
was
she
doing
flirting with
a
balding
old
dog
like
him?

And
that
brought
his
suspicions
to
the
fore
again.
There
were
many
around
here
he
couldn’t
trust.
For
now, he
could
do
nothing
more
than
play
along.
“So
should
I
start
reciting
the
periodic
table?” She
grinned
with
those
kissable
red
lips.
“I
don’t
think
that
will
help.”

“Do
you
have
lots
of
highschool
memories
of
under
the
bleachers?
Or
locked
in
a
broom
closet
with
your boyfriend?”

“Do
you?”

Not
hardly.
“Considering
I
graduated
high
school
at
twelve
it
would
be
pretty
perverted
if
I
did.”

“Your
parents
must
have
been
proud
of
your
graduation
day,
taking
rolls
of
capandgown
photos.” He
didn’t
want
to
think
about
those
days
of
freakdom.
At
least
now
as
an
adult
people
didn’t
see
him
as quite
an
oddity.
“What
about
your
graduation
day?
I’m
guessing
your
parents
were
just
as
proud
of
you
at eighteen.”

“They
were
proud—”
her
smile
went
slightly
sad
“—but
I
was,
uh,
sick
on
graduation
day.”

“That’s
a
shame.”
He
skimmed
her
hair
back
behind
her
ears
as
if
to
clear
it
from
his
face,
while
actually enjoying
the
silken,
soft
texture
of
those
curls
twining
around
his
fingers.
“You
deserved
to
celebrate.”

“I
did,
in
my
own
way.”
She
let
her
arms
linger
on
his
shoulders.
“What
about
you?
How
does
somebody celebrate
graduating
high
school
at
twelve?”

“My
dad
took
me
to
drive
gokarts
and
then
we
went
shopping
for
my
first
skateboard.”
His
parents
had done
their
best
to
let
him
be
a
kid,
but
then
he’d
left
for
college
and
they
weren’t
there
to
suggest
carnival rides
any
longer.
Vacations
were
packed
with
more
of
the
kid
fun,
but
by
then
it
was
almost
painful
in comparison
to
his
daily
routine
of
freakshow
Matthias
in
college.

And
damn
it,
he
didn’t
do
this
selfpity
routine.
What
was
it
with
this
woman?

She
continued
to
scratch
her
nail
ever
so
lightly
against
his
neck.
“Sounds
like
the
perfect
way
for
a
twelveyearold
to
cheer
on
a
landmark.” Yeah,
except
there
hadn’t
been
any
friends
to
take
along.
Everyone
his
age
thought
he
was
a
dorky
geek—

which
he
was.
And
their
conversation
bored
the
sh—uh,
dickens
out
of
him.

This
lady,
however,
with
her
hot
body
and
quick
mind,
was
anything
but
boring.

Suddenly
the
loudspeaker
crackled.
“Everyone
return
to
your
daily
business.
Only
a
small
explosion
in
one of
the
labs,
no
toxicity.”

Relief
swept
away
concerns
in
a
heartbeat,
leaving
him
with
nothing
to
think
about
but
the
woman
in
his arms.

Maybe
it
was
time
he
found
out
if
Felicia
Fratarcangelo
enjoyed
gokart
rides,
or
was
she
one
of
those
otherside
spies
in
hiding?

THROUGH
THEHumvee
windshield,
Bobby
scoured
the
surrounding
undergrowth,
mangrove
trees
and limestone
outcroppings
for
possible
danger
in
hiding,
while
keeping
Gracie
damn
close
to
his
side.

He
knew
she
wouldn’t
go
for
the
heman
“cover
her
body
with
his”
gig.
She’d
likely
flip
him
on
his
ass.
He kinda
enjoyed
that
about
her,
all
spunk
and
softness
at
once.
And
speaking
of
that
spunk,
they
could
well need
it
if
any
real
hazard
lurked
out
there.

Flames
lit
the
dark
in
the
distance,
but
so
far
he
hadn’t
noticed
anything
imminently
threatening
other
than
an exceptionally
odd
but
cute
rodent
the
size
of
a
large
house
cat,
with
long,
flowing,
silky
black
hair,
known
as the
Luzon
bushytailed
cloud
rat.
Since
the
beast
wouldn’t
hesitate
to
sink
its
teeth
into
anything
that
looked like
dinner—especially
hairyashell
legs—he
would
have
to
let
fly
with
his
knife
if
it
didn’t
scurry
off
once they
left
the
Humvee.

Still,
his
street
days
instincts
blared:
Danger.

The
spikes
that
had
punctured
their
tires
could
be
new
or
old.
This
area
had
been
in
battle
mode
for centuries.
The
metal
stakes
poking
from
the
ground
now
could
be
a
mere
coincidence
if
perhaps
this
wasn’t the
main
path
to
the
university.

But
hell’s
bells,
he
didn’t
believe
in
coincidences.

Why
such
stringent
security
around
a
simple
university
retreat?
Reasonable
protection
for
their
students
was nice
and
all
but
this
went
beyond
the
campus
cop
in
his
little
cart
cruising
the
grounds.

He
had
a
bad
feeling,
and
knowing
that
Gracie’s
old
man
was
at
the
end
of
this
boobytrapped
road
made his
pulse
slow
to
the
predator
level.

Protector.

“Are
you
all
right?”
he
asked.

Gracie
stretched
each
part
of
her
body
slowly,
with
a
sensualist’s
grace
that
fit
her
name
in
spite
of
her uptight
attitude.
“I
think
so.
Yeah.
I’m
all
right.
And
you?”

“Nothing
rattles
me,
remember?”

The
canvas
seat
rustled
with
the
shift
and
shuffle
of
Gracie
moving.
Movement
was
good.
Alive.
God,
he didn’t
even
want
to
think
about
Gracie
dead.
She
and
he
may
not
be
a
couple,
but
she
was
still…well…

Gracie.
She
would
always
tickle
at
the
corner
of
his
brain
and
make
him
think
about
what
if
he’d
been
a different
sort
of
man….

Whatifs
were
a
waste
of
time
and
he
considered
“waste”
an
eighth
deadly
sin.
“Seems
a
strong
possibility that
somebody
doesn’t
want
us
inside
that
place.”

She
swept
stray
strands
of
hair
back
with
hands
as
steady
as
his
pulse.
Maybe
they
had
something
in common
after
all.
“Jesus,
Bobby,
thank
goodness
whoever
it
was
sucks
at
putting
together
booby
traps
or we
would
both
be
dead.”
Her
face
tilted
toward
the
puffs
of
smoke
rising
skyward
in
the
distance.
“I
just hope…”

He
covered
her
hand
with
his.
“I
know.
Hang
in
there.
It’s
probably
just
a
routine
test
around
here.” She
nodded
without
answering,
the
worry
still
staining
her
skyblue
eyes,
so
pretty
he
could
swim
right
in.

But
they
had
more
pressing
matters
first.
Focus.

Actually,
now
that
he
stopped
to
consider,
his
thoughts
had
been
clear
and
steady
all
evening.
No
working to
juggle
all
the
sensory
bombs
heading
his
way.
Must
be
because
of
the
dark
and
not
because
the
woman beside
him
had
a
crazy
way
of
stirring
his
libido
while
soothing
his
mind.
No
way
was
any
woman
having that
much
control
over
him.

Period.

“Guess
it’s
time
to
assess
the
damage.”
He
slid
his
knife
from
his
boot
while
she
unholstered
her
9mm.
He kept
his
eyes
on
that
semicharming
rat
animal.
Yet
Bobby
couldn’t
resist
thinking
if
he
could
cage
the
thing it
would
make
a
helluva
fun
house
pet.

Bobby
swung
open
the
door
with
caution,
on
the
lookout
for
snakes.
His
boots
hit
soft
ground
of
decaying undergrowth.

Circling
the
vehicle,
he
found
four
very
flat
tires.

They
were
in
a
shitload
of
trouble
if
help
didn’t
arrive
soon
since
they’d
already
been
cutting
the
timetable close
as
it
was.
Of
course
there
was
always
the
possibility
that
the
owners
of
these
particular
spikes
might not
be
too
happy
to
see
them.

“I
guess
retrieving
your
dear
old
dad
is
on
hold.”

Grace
slipped
into
the
Humvee,
slammed
her
door
and
reached
for
the
twoway
radio
controls.
“I’ll
call
for someone
to
come
pick
us
up.”

Bobby
launched
back
into
his
side
as
well,
closing
the
door,
while
Gracie
finished
her
SOS
call.
He
slung his
arm
along
the
back
of
the
seat.

“So,
Gracie—”
he
eyed
her
hot
bod,
slipping
into
far
safer
territory
than
wondering
why
she
calmed
him
“—

what
do
you
suggest
we
do
to
keep
ourselves
occupied
while
we
wait?” CHAPTER
SIX

HOW
EMBARRASSING.

Gracie
shifted
in
the
driver’s
seat
of
the
crippled
Humvee,
sweat
sealing
her
uniform
to
her
body
after
two hours
of
waiting.
Her
great
plan
to
liberate
her
father
was
seriously
kaput.
Here
she
sat
with
four
flats
in
a hot,
buginfested
jungle
waiting
for
the
equivalent
of
an
Air
Force
tow
truck.

All
of
which
was
nothing
in
comparison
to
how
wretched
things
could
be
if
her
father
ditched
his
lithium.

The
fear
built
the
longer
she
waited
to
lay
eyes
on
her
dad
and
look
deep
in
his
eyes
to
see
ifhe
was
really still
there.
Would
the
university
facility
lock
him
up
in
some
institution
where
she
couldn’t
even
locate
him?

Or
would
they
pick
up
his
impaired
brain?
Her
chest
tightened
at
the
horrific
possibilities
even
as
she
tried
to think
positively.

Bobby
seemed
more
concerned
about
her
getting
in
trouble.
But
the
Humvee
was
a
part
of
her
equipment and
therefore
she
had
every
right
to
sign
it
out.
She
should
be
fine.
Not
that
it
would
have
mattered
to
her either
way
with
her
father’s
life
at
stake.

Her
breathing
grew
faster
until
she
realized
she
was
beginning
to
let
that
fear
conquer
her,
something
she refused
to
allow.
Ten
slow,
deep
breaths
later,
she
was
under
control
and
determined
to
keep
her
mind
on the
here
and
now
with
Bobby
and
their
SOS.

That
had
been
a
mortifying
call
to
make
on
the
radio.
Now
everyone
in
the
camp
would
think
she
and Bobby
had
slipped
off
for
sex,
which
beat
having
to
explain
the
truth.
But
still.
She
hadn’t
been
that embarrassed
since
her
father
caught
her
in
the
driveway
making
out
with
her
seniorprom
date,
his
hand
up her
dress.

Of
course,
in
hindsight,
most
of
her
acting
out
her
senior
year
in
high
school
had
been
to
catch
her
father’s attention,
or
somehow
pay
him
back
for
having
to
be
his
caregiver
every
time
he
went
through
a
depression cycle.
She
was
lucky
she
hadn’t
actually
hurt
herself,
physically
anyway.
Emotionally,
she
still
had
her
fair share
of
baggage.

Staring
through
the
broken
windshield,
she
watched
the
fractured
image
of
Bobby
climbing
a
tree
to
find their
midnight
snack—mangos.
Food
hung
and
flowered
lower
to
the
ground,
but
when
she’d
accidentally given
a
simple
soulful
look
up
at
the
mangos,
which
seemed
so
much
more
appealing
than
bugs
or
roots…

Wham.

There
went
Bobby
up
the
tree.
His
whipcord
athleticism
was
a
total
turnon,
as
much
as
his
consideration.

He
had
charm
down
pat.
For
a
second
she
decided
not
to
think
about
the
“Postal”
side
of
him,
because,
hey, she
had
her
issues,
too.

She
inched
to
the
edge
of
her
seat.
Please
Lord,
don’t
let
any
of
those
snakes
languishing
on
the
branches decide
to
wake
up
and
make
a
snack
of
him.
He
was
so
fearless.
And
what
about
other
“surprise”
security measures?
Were
there
cameras?
Trip
wires?
Pits
with
thinner
spikes
to
spear
trespassers?
The
possibilities were
endless.
She
was
willing
to
bet
his
pulse
wasn’t
even
up
a
notch.
Which
made
her
memory
swell
with just
whatdid
make
his
pulse
ratchet.
Her
fists
clenched
to
will
away
the
phantom
memory
of
touching
him.

Or
was
she
trying
to
capture
the
sensation
that
lingered
after
nine
months?

Lingered?

Hell.
Loitered.
An
unwelcome,
wrong,
wrong,
wrong
feeling.

He
didn’t
need
someone
like
her,
either.
If
he
ever
decided
to
commit,
he
should
have
a
free
spirit
who
could fly
through
life
as
he
did.
Sure,
she’d
been
wild
in
high
school,
which
scared
her
badly
enough
that
now
she was
wrapped
tight
for
fear
she
would
unravel
like
her
father.

Although
holy
guacamole,
what
a
month
it
would
be.

His
muscles
bulged
as
he
scaled
down
the
tree,
mangos
and
bananas
stuffed
in
the
pockets
of
his
BDU
pants and
one
piece
of
fruit
between
his
teeth.
He
straddled
the
last
limb.
Other
branches
had
broken
on
his
way up,
which
left
him
with
a
much
higher
perch.

Yet,
he
simply
flung
himself
forward
airborne
as
if
his
plane
would
carry
him
safely
to
the
ground
even
if
he happened
to
not
be
inside
it
at
the
moment.
With
the
grace
of
a
panther,
he
hit
the
ground
in
a
low
crouch.

The
only
sign
the
landing
may
have
been
at
all
teethjarring
was
that
the
mango
fell
from
his
mouth
into
his hand,
a
large
bite
chunked
out.