Angi Morgan - .38 Caliber Cover-Up

“Anything else?”

“Well, if you could let the Sergeant Major know I’m working undercover and haven’t been abducted.”

“Is that all?” Sean scrubbed his face with both hands, clearly exasperated.

“Time to go, Darby. Cop at ten o’clock.” Erren placed himself between Darby and the Sergeant Major, who was headed their way with a police officer.

“If they find you here, you won’t make it past the perimeter gate,” Sean warned.

Darby looked at Erren. “Quick. Into the basket.”

“We can’t hide in a basket.” Was she crazy? He wasn’t getting in that death trap. Not even to escape. His gut tightened, tying knots on top of the knots already there.

“We’ll go up,” Darby insisted. “Tell him Richard’s proposing.”

“You know he’ll never—”

“We’ll already be in the air. Tell him the guy paid you five hundred.”

Sean shook his head. “He’s going to be megapissed.”

Erren heard the conversation, but it didn’t register. The cop was closing in and the thought of going up had his blood pounding in his ears. “Nothing short of a gun to my head will make me get in that thing.”

“How about cuffs around your wrists? And this time, they won’t be mine.”

“Not happening.” He searched the crowd for another option.

“We’ve spent all night avoiding the police because you believed there’s a conspiracy. If we’re going to retrieve Pike’s package, we have to be free of the authorities.” With an exasperated huff, she grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. “Get in the basket. Now.”

She was right. The cop advanced. There was one way out. Up.

He hated…up.

“I’ve got it, Sean. Thanks. This should work.”

There wasn’t a step, so he hopped over the side, trying not to think about the consequences.

“Yeah, but you’ll have to deal with the Sergeant Major when you come down,” her brother said.

“I know.” Darby’s voice was softer, less authoritative than when she’d ordered him into the balloon.

Erren stayed on the floor of the basket. Maybe if he couldn’t see the dang thing floating in the air, he wouldn’t lose yesterday’s lunch. Maybe he wouldn’t shake right out of his shoes. Maybe. Just maybe.

Concentrate on the weave of the wicker. It was only a bigger version of the baskets his grandmother made. He could do this. They couldn’t get caught. It was the only way to avoid days of sorting out the truth or being thrown off the case entirely. Nothing to it.

Maybe.

Darby climbed in, opened a valve and the smell of propane filled the air. She immediately used a striker to spark a flame. The swoosh of the gas springing to life shot through him with an image of the stupid air sack going up in flames like the Hindenburg.

The balloon rose and Erren kept his butt firmly glued to the bottom of the basket.

“What are you doing down there? You need to stand up. It’s a real clear morning. You can see for several miles. Besides, you’re supposed to be proposing.”

“Proposing?” He tilted his head and watched the wind whip her hair from her face. She really was lovely. “Why would I be proposing?”

“You really weren’t paying attention, were you?” She quirked an eyebrow at him before returning her attention to the heater. “It’s the only reason the Sergeant Major lets the balloon go up without him. He can’t stand the mushy stuff.”

“Got it.” There was no way in hell he was standing up. “But I’m not the type of guy to go down on one knee.”

“Are you at least the kind who can stand up? It’s hard to sell a proposal if the Sergeant Major can’t see you do it.”

“Not really, Darby.”

“Are you kidding me? What’s wrong with you?” Her forehead scrunched up with her questions. “You’re as white as a sheet.”

“No descriptions necessary. I’m—”

“They’re here,” she whispered strongly. “Stand up.”

“Can’t do it.”

“This has happened before?”

“Every time.” Every rooftop. Every tree climbed on a dare. “As long as I can’t see where I am, I can still imagine we’re on the ground.” The basket swung back and forth like a swing. His body flinched, totally beyond his control. “Except when that happens.”

“Where’s the big Secret Agent Man saving my life when I need him?”

Not in this death trap.

“The Sergeant Major will bring us down immediately if he thinks something’s wrong. Sorry, tough guy, pull it together. Stand up.”

Her hands were under his arms, tugging, before he could fight it. So he was the big Secret Agent Man? He could play that role. Right? Just another cover. He inched his way to a standing position. His chest tightened to a not-breathing level. The basket swayed a little, but seemed steady enough. They were still tethered to the ground by ropes. He’d seen them before hopping inside.

“So what do couples do up here when the guy proposes?” His hands shook against the basket’s leather rail. His abdomen clenched, giving him more than his normal workout.

“They definitely look more excited than you do at the moment.” She took a step closer to him. The basket swayed more. “Erren, look at me.”

He did. Straight into dark green pools sparkling in the morning sun. It was easy to concentrate on them. To see nothing else as they grew closer and blocked out the treetops serving as their backdrop.

“Don’t freak out,” she whispered, dusting the top of his shoulders with her fingers. Letting her hands linger on his upper arms wasn’t his choice, but definitely kept her close enough so he couldn’t see his surroundings.

She drew closer and closer. Each second was imprinted in his mind like a frame of a film. Her actions ticked away like a silent movie. Then her lips touched his. Nature conquered fear.

His hands were on her slim, firm waist instead of the cool leather trimming the top of the basket. He couldn’t close his eyes completely. He watched her reaction, felt her body relax. She anchored them to the center brace in the basket, but arched her body toward him.

He’d wanted to kiss her since first straddling her strong body the night before. His fingers inched up under the windbreaker to feel bare skin. No shirt. Interesting. They inched farther, exploring her cool silk, feeling her jump slightly, feeling her body move into his, feeling one of her hands flutter up his back.

God, her lips were smooth and ideal. Her mouth was warm. A perfect fit. Everything was a perfect fit. They weren’t coming up for air. The kiss kept deepening. Her breasts pressed into his chest. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on them and find out if they were a perfect fit, too.

“Hey, d’Artagnan,” Sean shouted from below. “Come on down.”

Darby drew back, leaving inches between them. Her finger caressed the outline of his ear, trailing down his neck and tapped the dagger charm hanging there.

“You can sit now.” Did he imagine the huskiness in her voice? She broke away from his arms. “I need to open the parachute valve so we’ll descend.”

Tops of balloons were to his left and nothing but air to his right. Tree tops were in the distance across the field as he stumbled back to the edge of the basket.

His legs shook and his insides jumped, but was it from the height? Or a green-eyed witch who had taken him flying?

“Time to face the firing squad.”

Darby muttered under her breath, but Agent Rhodes shifted, letting her know he’d heard the sibling battle cry for facing their father.

Agent Rhodes… Or should she think of him as Erren after that erotic kiss? She hadn’t meant the distraction to go so far. A little shock therapy to take his mind off his obvious fear of heights. And judging by the raised voices below, everyone had seen her complete enjoyment of his marvelous kissing ability.