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Bernard backed away, clutching the briefcase. “We have honored our agreement,” he babbled. “There is no need to panic.”
“I’m not panicking,” Swain said calmly. “But your car isn’t backing up, either, so a panic attack could be coming on.”
“Idiot!” Bernard said fiercely, whether to his driver or Swain was a toss-up. “Back up to the corner, slowly. Do not shoot!” He was probably imagining a hot bullet plowing into his crotch.
“Lily,” Swain hissed. “Get out from under the car, now!”
“I already am,” she said from the other side of the car as she opened the door and slid inside.
Shit, she hadn’t waited to see if Bernard did what he was told, but then how many men would ignore that particular threat? Swain tossed the duffel bag into her lap, then swiftly got in and slammed the transmission in reverse, spinning the car around with a sharp turn of the wheel, then accelerating with a squeal of rubber. Behind them, a car door slammed; there was a high-pitched whine as the Fiat’s engine was revved up and it took off in pursuit. Swain thought it sounded like a sewing machine. Then a sharp crack sounded behind them.
“The fucker’s shooting at us,” Swain said grimly. If he had to change cars again, he was going to be seriously pissed.
“That’s okay,” Lily said, lowering the window and rising to her knees. “I’m shooting back.” Shooting from a moving platform at a moving target was more along the line of asking for a miracle than using any real skill, but she levered herself half out of the window, steadied herself as best she was able, and squeezed off a carefully aimed shot. Behind them, the Fiat swerved wildly before once more straightening out, telling them that she’d scored at least a windshield.
Swain put the gas pedal to the floorboard and let all the horses run. The Fiat rapidly fell behind, and Swain snickered as he imagined them all pedaling frantically, knees working up and down.
“What’s so funny?” Lily asked.
“If I’d still been driving the sewing machine, we’d never have made it.”
30
“You scare the hell out of me,” Swain said crossly, stripping off his leather coat and tossing it across the bed, then shrugging out of his shoulder holster.
“Why is that?” Lily asked mildly, succumbing to an impulse she had every time she saw his coat. She picked it up and stroked the butter-soft leather, then slipped it on. The garment was too large, of course, hanging off her shoulders, and the sleeves reached way past her hands, but it was warm from his body and the feel of the leather was so scrumptious she almost purred.
“What are you doing?” he asked, diverted.
“Trying on your coat,” she replied, giving him
a look that said Duh. What did it look like she was doing?
“Like there was any way it was going to fit?”
“No, I just wanted to feel it.” She pulled the edges together and stepped in front of the mirror, then had to laugh at her reflection. She was still wearing the mustache and black street clothes, and the knit cap pulled down over her hair. She looked like a cross between a street punk and Charlie Chaplin.
Gingerly she peeled off the mustache and latex, then removed the knit cap and ran her hands through her hair to fluff it. She still looked like a clown, so she removed the coat and tossed it back on the bed, then sat down and began removing her boots.
“Why do I scare you?” she asked, returning to his previous statement.
“You don’t scare me; I’m scared for you. Though my balls did draw up when you told Bernard where you were going to shoot him, but I guess any man would have that reaction. Scared the hell out of him, anyway. Jesus, Lily, what if the Fiat had rammed the car while you were under it? Do you know how—What are you doing?”
“Taking off my clothes,” she said with that Duh look again. She was down to her underwear and she unhooked her bra and dropped it on the bed, then skimmed out of her panties. Totally naked, she picked up his coat again and slipped it on, then walked back to the mirror.
There, that was more like it. The coat still swallowed her, but now it looked sexy, with her tousled hair and bare legs. She put her hands into the pockets and hunched her shoulders, then rolled her neck. She turned around to get a back view. “I love this coat,” she crooned, lifting the hem just enough to show the beginning curve of her ass. She felt breathless and a little too hot, as if someone had raised the thermostat setting in the room. She lifted the hem higher.
“You can have it,” he said hoarsely. His eyes were glazed. He came up behind her and gripped her buttocks in both hands. “You just can’t ever wear it when you have other clothes on.”
“That’s awfully limiting.” She had all she could do not to pant. Her nipples were so hard they ached, and he hadn’t even touched them. Where had this intense sexual need come from? She didn’t know, but she felt as if she would die if he didn’t enter her.
“Take it or leave it.” His palms were hot as he kneaded the rounded cheeks.
“Well, okay, I’ll take it.” She took her hands out of the pockets and stroked the sleeves. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“That’s not all I drive that’s hard,” he muttered, reaching between them to unzip his fly. “Bend over.”
Because she was all but melting, her inner muscles clenched tight against the surging lust that gripped her, she bent over and braced her hands against the wall, going up on her tiptoes while he bent his knees. She caught her breath as he worked the broad head of his penis into her, then with a long, steady push sank to the hilt. He gripped her hips, anchoring her as he pulled back and thrust again.
