Cold Comfort (31 page)

She pulled off the mask and breathed deeply, shook out her hair. "I was afraid you were both hurt."

He put his arm around her shoulders, steered her into the house. "The vests protected us, but a bullet still makes a hell of an impact. Fred'll be out of commission for a couple of days
—
it knocked the wind out of him. Let's hope they think it was you."

Fred sat on the kitchen table with the dress around his hips and the wig on the counter behind him, lifting one arm and then the other as Jordan wound tape around his chest, covering a cloth bandage. Two oranges sat beside the wig. "Hey, Claire. Glad you got here. I've had enough of this dress
—
let's swap."

"I'll get my bag and change. I'm so glad you weren't hurt any worse." She leaned past Jordan and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Riley's phone rang. "Yes?"

Ray whispered to her, "It's probably the rest of the guys Riley called for. They'll stay at the house until Fred and I get back. One of them will run an alarm system around the fence."

The phone at his ear, Riley listened, shook his head. "No. Alarm only." He covered the mouthpiece and said to Claire, "He wants to put a charge along the fence."

He focused on the phone again. "I know, but the cat might hit it."

Jordan, standing back from Fred to assess her handiwork, shook her head at Riley over the top of her glasses. "That's Riley
—
Rambo with a marshmallow heart." A faint smile touched her lips. It faded so quickly Claire almost missed it, but it transformed the harsh lines of the woman's face.

Ray and Fred nodded and shared wry grins. Claire guessed they were all close. There was so much about Riley she didn't know. He and these other people shared so much, so many things she could never be a part of. She'd led such a sheltered life. This was her first brush with danger, and if it weren't for Riley, she'd already be dead.

"Here's your bag. We'll go on to Washington tonight." Riley took her mask and hat, laid them on a chair, and pointed to the bathroom. "Change and I'll give Fred his clothes back."

Claire returned in her own clothes as Riley closed his cell phone. He stood in the kitchen with the others, but he held out a hand and drew her in. "Will booked us a room near his apartment tonight."

Fred, holding himself stiffly, reached for his clothes. "Let's trade."

She passed him the jeans and jacket and held up the black dress splashed with red and orange flowers. "Thanks, but you can keep the dress."

"Hey, I picked it out specially," Fred said.

"I'm touched."

"Ray," Riley said, ignoring the banter, "will you watch our backs for a few miles? I don't think any of us were followed, but I want to be sure."

"You got it, man. Sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"No, you stay with Mary. Will's got us covered in Washington. But keep in touch. The minute we start asking questions up there, they'll realize we're closing in."

"You'd better take my car. Yours has a few distinctive marks." Jordan handed him her keys. "You can park it at Will's and pick up another rental in the morning."

"Try Hertz next time. Avis probably has a BOLO on you," Fred said.

"What's a bolo?"

"Be On the Look Out." Riley started for the door.

* * *

They entered Alexandria. Riley tried to keep his mind off Claire, concentrating instead on the increasing traffic. He knew things were coming to a head. She knew it too. Her bright eyes and the color in her cheeks, combined with her constant fidgeting, left her wide open. They should identify her father here, and find out why someone wanted her out of the way.

It would all be over soon, and Claire could return to her life and friends, maybe that lawyer, Littlejohn. The thought of her with someone else was like a punch in the gut, but he had to accept it and go on. For starters, he intended to keep his hands off her. Her whole life turned upside down in the last few weeks, and she'd needed someone to lean on, even if briefly
—
she was so much stronger than she looked.

He swore he wouldn't touch her again.

Chapter 21

They checked into the motel where Will made the reservation, and Riley carried their bags to the room. Claire stood to the side and watched when he put his bag on one bed and hers on the other. Bad sign.

"I thought you might like to be closer to the window," he said. "Why don't you go on to bed? I'm going down to the lobby to make some calls. I'll try not to wake you when I come in."

"Do whatever you need to. I'll be fine." So he thought he could avoid her, did he? Well, she'd made a few plans of her own. With only a short time left, she meant to use it
—
it might have to last her a lifetime. She knew there'd never be another Riley in her life. Someone might come along she could love, but no one would ever replace him. She didn't know what tomorrow might bring, but she had a definite goal for tonight.

"Take your time." She was betting he'd be back before long to check on her. Smiling, she closed the door behind him. "Silly man. Being noble, making my choices for me." Oh, she understood him. He considered her too fragile emotionally—something she damn well wasn't—so she'd take him by surprise, rid him of that notion once and for all. She wanted to make him lose his iron control, give all of himself, even if only once. The afternoon in McClellanville
—
only two days ago?
Impossible. He'd been holding back even then. She could feel it.

Her smile lasted through her shower. She dried her hair, then rubbed lotion into her skin. Assessing herself in the mirror, imagining how she'd look to Riley, she touched a little perfume behind her ears. Uncertain, she reached for her mascara. Her hand trembled. Not a good time to poke herself in the eye. She put it back. Thoughtfully, she took a lacy nightgown from her case and held it up. An impulsive purchase, the diaphanous blue caught her eye at a sale, but she'd never worn it. No, it would be wasted tonight, she thought, and folded it back in the bag. Maybe tomorrow night—hope springs eternal.
Oh, Claire, you are bad. Here's poor Riley, doing his best to keep his hands off you, and you're plotting all the dirty tricks you can think of.

She carefully shaped the pillows on her bed and pulled the covers over them, then turned out the lights and examined her handiwork. The room was dark, and Riley would be coming in from the lighted hall. She arranged the heavy drapes so that a sliver of moonlight penetrated the room, outlining the shape in the bed.
Perfect
.

Taking a fortifying breath, Claire slid under the covers in Riley's bed, on the side closest to the wall. He wouldn't see her, and he'd almost certainly take the other side by the night table and the phone. She settled down to wait. Butterflies flitted through her stomach.

She was almost asleep when she heard the door. Her eyes flew open, and, heart pounding, she watched the dark silhouette creep into the room. He stopped and glanced at the faint shape on the other bed, then slipped out of his clothes and turned to his bed, facing her. Claire's pulse kicked up, and she made an effort to control her breathing.
What if he refused? Laughed? Too late to back out now.
Committed, she licked her lips, took a deep breath.

He lifted the covers and silently climbed in. The mattress sank under his weight, and Claire rolled over onto him. "Hi, sailor. Looking for a little action?"

Riley sprang from the bed as if he'd been fired from a cannon. "Claire?"

Oh, god, was he mad? Her nerves jangled. She giggled.

He snapped on the light and yanked back the covers. "What the hell are you—" He choked off the rest of the sentence when his gaze fell on her bare body.

Gathering her courage, she drew up one knee, pushed herself up on her elbows, and cocked her head. "Come on, big boy. Live a little." That her seductive voice held a quaver didn't seem to bother him.

Momentarily speechless, he blinked. Then a slow smile spread over his face and a dangerous spark lit his eyes. His enthusiasm grew as his gaze played over her, returned to her eyes. "You're sure?"

Watching him took her breath. She lay back and opened her arms, no longer playing.

Lowering himself onto the bed, he gathered her into his side and leaned over her, nuzzling her head back and kissing the soft underside of her chin.

"Riley, I..." She bit her lip. Liquid heat pooled in her. Riley remained in control. If he touched her again, she'd be lost. Some distant part of her brain got through. While those clever hands of his remained free, she didn't have a chance. Calling on all her willpower, she wriggled out from under him. "No. Tonight it's my turn."

Riley pulled away. "What? Have you changed your mind?"

His voice, hoarse with effort, thrilled her.

"No way." She wished she'd brought something to tie his hands. "Put your hands behind your head, and keep them there. This is a matter of honor. I'm trusting you."

Slowly he raised his arms and tucked his hands under his head. Despite his wary expression, a grin spread over his face.

"Don't move." She stood and turned off the bedside lamp, scooted across the other bed and opened the drapes. Moonlight glowed on bright snow, casting a mantle of pale light over the room. She could feel Riley's eyes tracking her every move. Returning to him, she stood and admired the long body stretched out before her.

She smiled down at his face, seeing the muscles in his arms bunch. He kept his hands behind his head. She made love to him, teasing, taunting until he grabbed her.

"You win," he said.

She bit back the words that filled her heart. Then she grinned. She'd done it. Her eyes closed as she drifted toward sleep.

"Oh, no you don't." He lifted her arms above her head and caught both wrists in one hand, holding them there. "My turn."

* * *

Snow fell in large flakes, swirling in the glow of lights surrounding the motel. In the parking lot below, cars clustered near the entrance like a herd of white buffalo. Claire sat by the window, watching the few headlights pass on the road. She held her wrist toward the light to check the time
—
again. Riley turned restlessly. He'd be up soon in spite of getting little sleep. For a moment, she savored the memory of the long night. It already seemed like a dream, but it was one she'd always have.

A car turned into the parking lot, drawing her back. Washington. Maybe today they'd find the answers. They arranged to meet Will for breakfast at six, a concession to her impatience. Burley or Jennings? She believed one of them was Caroline's mysterious lover. Ergo
—
she took a deep breath
—
her father. She'd read through the files on Riley's laptop last night. Neither of the men had children, at least from their marriages. Both still had political ambitions. Would that be a reason to get rid of her? Both had ties to a crime family though Carmine Bellante, which could account for Joey Fortunato's presence. She wondered if Carmine had been the one to see Caroline in the halls of Congress, if he'd been the one who'd frightened her so
—
protecting his daughter's interests? Gina or Marianna?

She wished Will would get here. Anxiety burned a hole in her stomach. He apparently shared Ray's reluctance to talk on the phone. Riley called last night when they got in, and Will said he'd bring the information this morning. She checked her watch again, decided she could shower and get ready.

* * *

When Claire entered the restaurant with Riley, she recognized Will, sitting at a corner table, immediately. She spotted several surreptitious looks cast his way by the females in the room. A waitress stood in front of him, her pencil poised above a pad, flustered by his dark, chiseled face. Claire smiled at Riley. He wasn't as conventionally handsome, but his solid, capable manner appealed to her. They reached the table and sat down, and the waitress asked for their order.

"Could you give us a few minutes?" Riley picked up the menu.

"Of course," the woman said, still standing there.

Will stood, gently excluding her, and held out his hand to Claire, who struggled to contain her smile. Riley introduced them. The waitress finally took the hint and moved on.

They talked for a minute and signaled the vigilant waitress to take their orders. When she left, Will took a manila envelope from his briefcase and laid a couple of pens on the table with a pad. "I know you're anxious to see this." He handed the envelope to Claire. "This is the print material I've come up with."

Will's slight drawl surprised her. She'd have guessed Latino in spite of his name, but he was definitely from the South.

"Good." Riley sat down beside Claire so all three of them faced the door and windows. "What have you heard? Any rumors? Insights? Because of Joey Fortunato and the connection with the Geminellis, Carmine Bellante interests me."

"Me, too. Ray called last night after I talked to you. From the pictures you sent, Mary identified the man in the shop. He's Frank Stahl, another Geminelli associate. He's a few steps up the ladder from Fortunato
—
in more ways than one." Will glanced at Claire. "He likes knives. His father was a butcher."