Don’t Even Think About Running
DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT RUNNING
Glennon
The whipping sound of an X-ray film snapping in her ear drew her sight outward as Calder Stonewall slapped it onto the light box and flipped the switch. “Say hello to my little friend.”
“Really?” Cruz asked.
The medical examiner shrugged. “As you can see, Glennon, aside from possibly the best posture I’ve ever seen in a spine, you have an uninvited guest.” With his pen, he pointed to a small blip on the back of her shoulder, directly under the tattoo that she’d gotten several years ago.
A tattoo approved and paid for by Guillermo Colonel.
“Goddamn him,” she cursed. Hearing it was possible and seeing it was true were two completely different things. Why did this feel like so much more of a violation than everything else he’d done?
“Luckily, it’s up at the surface, so it’s easy to remove if you want. Some local anesthetic, a tiny incision, remove your hitchhiker, then two stitches to seal the deal.”
“Feeling a bit like a pincushion lately,” she groused.
“Yes, I saw. Whoever did your sutures has a good hand. You’ll scar because of the size of the wound, but it will be minimal.”
“I’ll make sure to leave him a great review online.”
Grinning, Calder turned to Cruz and Triumph. “I like her. She met Francesca yet? They’re gonna be hell on wheels together.”
“I think she’s overwhelmed enough right now,” the FBI agent said with a rueful chuckle. “Have mercy on her. Her first stop was supposed to be Hammerling, and we had to put him off to see you, or Triumph was going to go all MMA-fighter smackdown on me.”
“You know,” Triumph said, “has anyone ever told you that you can be an annoying sonofabitch?”
Cruz laughed. “My work is done. Hashtag life goals.”
“Fucker,” Triumph muttered. At a normal, if not clipped, volume, he asked, “Do you have a plan for once it’s out of her? We can’t just leave it here.”
“He’s got a point,” Calder agreed. “Just throwing it out puts my co-workers in danger. And we can’t destroy it. They’ll know we found it.”
Cruz told them, “I had thoughts of stealing an idea from The DaVinci Code and throwing it in a truck headed out of town.”
Triumph ran his hands through his already disheveled hair. “You two need a new hobby besides streaming movies.”
Calder ignored him. “That puts the truck driver at risk. You think this Guillermo bastard is going to stop him and politely ask to search his truck?”
Triumph rolled his eyes. “What do your tech guys do at the FBI, for fuck’s sake? Give it to me. I can jerry-rig its GPS system and make it look like it’s headed somewhere when it’s really in an evidence locker.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?” Cruz asked.
“Now that Hammerling is officially involved, I was trying to let the FBI do its thing without interfering.”
“It’s just the chief. No techs. Remember, this isn’t officially on the books yet.”
“Yet,” Triumph muttered. “When ‘yet’ comes, ya’ll better not leave her abandoned in the fray. She’s been collateral damage long enough. This wasn’t part of the original deal.”
Should she be upset they were talking about her like she wasn’t even there? Possibly. But her energy was flagging. Was it really something worth putting up a fight about?
Cruz tried to soothe his frustration. “I know. You’ve made your feelings on this abundantly clear. I promise you, Hammerling’s good. But Francesca and I will be there, even if he thinks about taking advantage.”
She reached out and touched Triumph’s arm. “It’s okay. Besides, you’ll be there as well, and we’ll be out in public.”
He turned his gaze on Cruz. “The FBI is not high on my list in recent months. They’re not immune to rats in high places.”
“Infestations are everywhere, Triumph,” Cruz reminded him. “Clearly, the CIA is not any better off if you suspect a culprit inside the agency as to why we’re in this mess to begin with.”
Triumph grunted. “Tonight, we get that piece of metal out of her. After I put the virus into the microchip, I’m taking her to the Elysium apartment, feeding her, and putting her to bed.
She’s not going anywhere until she’s had a solid eight hours of sleep.
I’ll let you know when she’s ready to see Hammerling. ”
Cruz and Calder looked at Glennon with dumbass grins on their faces. “Welcome to the overprotective family of the crazy cousins,” Cruz told her.
She rolled her eyes, hopped off the table, and pulled her shirt over her head. Turning her back to the men, she pulled her bra strap off her shoulder. “Just do what you need to do.”
It took longer to set up than it did to take the chip out and sew her back up.
When Calder was done, Triumph stood in front of her, helping her pull her shirt down and reset herself. “Can we stop sewing you back together, please?”
“Believe me, I’m on the same train of thought you are.”
“You want to have a little adventure tonight?”
She raised her eyebrow at him. “I haven’t had enough adventure, so you’re offering more?”
“This is a small one.” He squished his fingers together as he said it. “Tripoli brought my motorcycle, and he’s catching a ride back with Cruz. You wanna go for your first ride?”
“I thought I’d already been given my first ride,” she teased.
Grinning, he rolled his eyes. “That was hardly a ride. That was hardly a test drive.”
“Mmm. I look forward to the new experience.”
His hand around the nape of her neck, he turned her toward the door with just a glancing pressure, like he was leading her in a waltz.
She shook Cruz’s hand, then Calder’s, and said, “I appreciate you helping me.” She paused, looked at Triumph, and swallowed. Then she looked back at Calder. Both of her hands were white-knuckle-clasped around one of Calder’s. “Please let me know if I can ever return the favor.”
A gentle squeeze to the back of her neck was followed by the caress of his thumb against her skin.
He knew how much trust she had in him that those words came out. That she was welcoming the opportunity to owe a favor, even when he told her no one would ever expect one to be offered.
The doctor’s next words proved him correct. “Friends help friends. And we help friends of friends who we hope will eventually be part of the first group of friends.”
With a nod to the two men, he used gentle pressure to once again guide Glennon, but this time to lead her out of the morgue, then out the back entrance, where his cycle waited.
His excitement at seeing his bike exuded from every pore, and a spring infected his step as he moved to its side.
Tripoli had hung two helmets from the handgrips.
“Okay. First thing. You’re required to sit as close to the driver as you physically can, really snuggling that gorgeous pussy and those beautiful tits as tight to his back as possible. ”
She pursed her lips at him and smirked. “Uh-huh.”
She could tell he was trying really hard to keep from laughing. “Yes. You hang on with both hands and thighs. You should hold on so tight, he gets bruises of honor.”
“Right.”
He lost it then. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. But seriously, hang on to me as tight as you need. Keep your feet on the pegs so you don’t touch the exhaust and burn yourself. Lean with me when we go into a turn. Easy.”
“Promise to keep both wheels on the ground and below forty miles an hour?”
“I promise. No stunts or racing.”
He held out a hand to her, and she didn’t hesitate to take it. Fuck, that trust felt better than a kiss. Maybe. Possibly.
Probably not, but this moment was not one to push aside for what it represented.
He pulled her the last few steps to the bike and lowered a helmet over her head. He looked up at her once, twice, through where the shield would pull down as he worked to adjust the chinstrap. Her eyes never wavered from him, simply accepting that he was ensuring it fit properly.
Fingers gripping the chin of her helmet, he asked, “Ready?”
“Ready,” she said with a thumbs-up.
After flipping her shield down, he swung his leg over the bike.
Tossing his head to get some of his hair out of his face, he put his helmet on and secured it, flipped down his shield, pushed back the kickstand, and started the bike.
He then motioned behind him with a nod. “Come up alongside, grab my left arm with your left hand, and swing your right leg over.”
Wrapping her arms around his waist and sliding up tight against his back, she smiled at the vibration she felt go through him.
She couldn’t hear if it was a growl or something else, but by doing what he’d joked about, she affected him.
It was good to know that now they were home, things hadn’t changed.
As soon as he checked that her feet were on the pegs, he took off.
The loud purr of the engine jump-started her blood flow, and the vibrations she felt through the seat flooded into her core, teasing her into an odd state of arousal.
Not sexual, necessarily. Maybe a better word was awareness—of herself, of him, of what was around her.
She had a feeling she would like riding behind him on his bike.
Elysium was only a few minutes from their location, and before she knew it, the ride was over.
Since the parking lot was packed, he rode around back and pulled his bike into the loading dock.
After parking, she hopped off the seat and removed her helmet.
Every hair on her body felt electrified.
Every inch of her skin felt charged. If he touched her, she expected to jump from the contact.
He unfolded from his seat, pulling his helmet off. Smiling at her, he ran one hand through his shaggy locks. “What do you think?”
“I already feel a bit of a stretch in my thighs.” When she bent over slightly to massage the inside of her legs, she noticed his eyes seemed to spark. “Definitely think we need to work our way up to Route 66.”
“Fuck,” he murmured. “When we take that trip, I plan to bend you over that seat every stop we make. Hell, I’d do it right now if there weren’t four cameras pointed at this space.”