Bernard DeLeo - Cold Blooded

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for today.” Suzan held up one of the throw away cell-phones Nick had Rachel buy. “I’ll call you if anything comes up. Thanks for the phone.”

“No problem.” Nick gave Kelly and Garth a little wave. “If Jean dreams up any adventures we think you two will be interested in, we’ll give you a call.”

“I think I’m getting my psycho on,” Rachel remarked as Suzan and her kids walked away. “I wanted to toast that Glenn kid.”

“Oh lady, when you stop being afraid, and start contemplating violence, it’s very habit forming.” Nick put his arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “Shall we go home and call the US Marshalls? I wonder what our canine interior decorator has been up to while we’ve been gone?”

“I left Deke a soup bone so big he’ll still be working on it when he’s too old to chew.”

“You don’t call. You don’t write…” Grace droned on. “Have we offended you in some way, my little stud muffin?”

“Am I on the FBI’s most wanted list next to the Al-Qaeda hierarchy?”

“Not yet, but there are people working on that very scenario. How are Rachel and Jean?”

“Real good so far, and we have a plan. It involves an item unknown to you before: a safety deposit box with flash drives Rachel talked her husband into making from Tanus Import/Export. The real story is Rick was caught and tortured by Tanus because Rachel had a little get rich quick scheme. The extra heat is because of those drives.”

“Oh…my…God…” Grace uttered in a hushed voice. “A ton of money’s being dropped on this problem, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. Have you and Tim decided on whether to move on with your lives, or step up?”

“I should have shot you that night at the restaurant, you smartass weasel.”

“Time is running short,” Nick said, watching the indicator on his phone, smiling to himself as he pictured Grace fuming at the other end of the line. “Any more additions I’ll have to save for my memoirs if you’re not interested.”

“Make it good, because you’re very close to starring on America’s Most Wanted.”

“We lucked into a corroborating witness who wants out of the Tanus operation. The wife believes her husband can decipher what’s on the flash drives. They want protection. I’m supposed to find out whether the US Marshalls can provide any.”

“Holy Guacamole, cowboy! You stepped in it this time, didn’t you?”

“It’s all yours, Grace, if you want it. Is the DOJ sealed yet?”

“They caught a deputy director and one of the bureau chiefs, all thanks to the tail you picked up on the way to Monterrey. The weird ass breaks in procedure, allowing a sniper suspect to have an accident in custody, cemented the deal. Tim and I were on the hot seat for a short period of time. We’ve been put in charge now.”

“Sweet,” Nick commented. “Here’s the plan then. Rachel and I will get the drives. We’ll get our witness to make sure of what’s on them. Then we’ll hand the drives and the witness over to the US Marshalls.”

“Instead, we meet up with you and Rachel, retrieve the drives, and take you all into federal custody,” Grace countered.

“No offense, Frumpy, but you heard the plan, and you ain’t in it until I say you’re in it. Time’s up. I’ll call in one hour.”

“Was she disappointed in me?” Rachel asked anxiously as they sat together out on the patio with Deke, having already put Jean to bed.

Nick laughed. “I think you have more pressing problems than whether Grace has a lower opinion of you or not. Hey, did you inhale that beer?”

“I was nervous.”

Nick watched Rachel shift in her lounge chair, crossing her legs. He reached over to run his hand along her thigh. “You don’t look nervous. You look edible.”

Rachel slapped Nick’s hand with a gasp of false indignation. A shiver streaked from the balls of her feet to the nape of her neck. Thoughts of US Marshalls and flash drives were fading faster than ice cream over a campfire. She had showered, joining him on the patio in only her blouse and shorts. Nick took her right hand in his left, turning it palm up. He used only the whisper of contact with his fingertips down Rachel’s bare arm and over her palm to the very tips of her fingers. He rotated the feather soft touch around and up her arm again. She leaned her head back with a moan, gripping the opposite arm of her chair with the other hand.

Her arm was on fire. The skin without Nick’s attention felt cold and bleak, awaiting the returning warmth of his fingertips. Nick undid her blouse, and she shrugged it off impatiently. Rachel lifted up from the lounger as Nick gripped the waistband of her shorts. He pulled them from her smoothly. Moving off his lounger, he settled onto the edge of hers, and began his fingertip message with both hands. Down from her cheeks, over shoulders, breasts, ribcage-ever so slowly-hips, thighs, ankles, feet, toes, and up again. Rachel tried to relax. She tried to absorb his soothing touch, but her breathing quickened, her blood raced, and her body tensed. Nick returned his attention finally to her palms and wrists, tracing gentle circles. She crumpled into the lounger, his fingertips on her palms calming the tingling firestorm.

“You drive me nuts,” she whispered.

“Why’s that? You mean the massage? I figured I’d relax you. Didn’t you like it?” He continued the circular stroking of her palms.

“It’s incredible, but why not just -”

“I haven’t been with a woman I liked in a long time…maybe ever.”

She sat up into his arms, their faces inches apart.

“You mean that?”

“Absolutely.”

Rachel’s lips touched Nick’s as lightly as his fingertips had explored her body. Neither moved to end the exquisite caress or probe more deeply. Her breasts brushed against his bare chest, causing his fingers to encircle and tighten on her wrists. She felt him tense everywhere except at the sensuous contact with her mouth. It was at this very moment Deke decided to make his presence known in the form of a cold wet nose on Rachel’s back. She lurched against Nick with a squeal of protest, arching against him as Deke poked and sniffed.

“Do somethinggggggggg!” Rachel writhed more deeply into Nick.

Nick reached around her with his left hand, grabbing Deke’s nose, and shaking it playfully as Rachel settled down.

“Deke, your timing could be better, pal.” Nick peered around Rachel, eyeballing the dog reproachfully as Deke sat and gave him a paw.

“Tell me you are not shaking that beast’s paw,” Rachel said through clenched teeth, clinging to Nick with her head against his right shoulder. He realized she could feel the movement of his arm at her side.

“You told me I can’t hurt him.”

She huffed. “I changed my mind.”

“Perhaps we should go up to my room and start over.”

“No, I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay,” Nick sighed, pushing up and away from Rachel. “I was going to do your back next.”

She sprung up from the lounge chair and into his arms. “What‘ll we do with the hellhound?”

“Give him a beer,” Nick whispered, trailing kisses along her neck, evoking a protesting shudder and moan. “Deke can drink it in Jean’s room.”

“You have to call Grace back,” Rachel reminded him reluctantly, at the same time moving side to side gently.

“Shit!” He thumped his forehead on her shoulder.

“I’ll go get Deke settled in Jean’s room. You call Grace. I’ll meet you in your room.”

“You better not be asleep when I get there.”

“Yeah, right.” She laughed. “C’mon Deke, let’s get you locked up for the night.”