Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(83)

The woman gulped back tears, audibly. “But Richie, I can’t—”

“What do you mean, can’t? We have Edeline Metgers scheduled for two days from now!” The violence in his voice punched against Becca’s jangled nerves like the blows of a fist. “Along with four other recipients. You made the arrangements yourself!”

“You don’t understand,” the woman whispered brokenly. “Y-you have to come with me to do this, Richie. It’s too hard to do alone. You’re the one who makes me strong. I can’t—”

“Bullshit. We’re miles deep in this, you stupid bitch. We can’t go back now,” Mathes snarled. “God knows, I would prefer to do it myself, but I’m stuck here and you know it. I’m giving a fawning speech for that pompous old dickwad in exactly…ah, great. Yes. Exactly nine minutes and counting. Great timing, Diana. You show up here, uninvited, in a trench coat and diva sunglasses at nine o’clock at night, and make a f*cking spectacle of yourself at Harrison’s party—Jesus Christ, did you think my wife wouldn’t notice? Everyone noticed!”

“But I—”

“Go, and do as we agreed.” The steely note of menace in the man’s voice sent a shudder up Becca’s spine. “It has to be you and it has to be now. Tonight. No other options. Do we understand each other?”

“But Richie, I’m telling you—”

Crack, the sound of a vicious slap to the face. Followed by the sound a dog made when its tail was stepped on. Then muffled sniveling. “You are such a prick, Richie,” the woman whimpered.

“I know. That’s why we get along so well. Now get out, and do your job. The time to have a breakdown has passed. Understood?”

There was a muffled sob, then a whimper and a guttural moan. Becca leaned forward just long enough to see that the man was kissing her. His hand gripped her crotch, working it. The woman writhed, clutching him around the neck as if she were drowning.

Becca jerked back, feeling slimed and fouled for having witnessed it.

The woman stumbled back with a sob and bumped into Marla’s desk. Mathes had evidently shoved her away from himself.

“Be good, Diana,” he warned. The door snapped shut behind him.

Diana blubbered noisily for so long, Becca actually started to get bored. Her legs went to sleep from being folded up so tightly. She was intensely grateful when the woman pulled herself together and stumbled out the door, still sniffling.

Becca fell forward onto her face and struggled up onto numb legs. Stomping and staggering until the pins and needles subsided enough so that she could actually walk, she flung her purse over her shoulder, and peered out the door in time to catch the flash of Diana’s beige raincoat, disappearing down the staircase that led to the back parking lot. Where Becca’s own rental car was parked.

She didn’t dare to examine the impulse, or she’d lose her nerve. It has to be you, and it has to be now. Tonight, the man had said.

Funny. Go figure. The exact same thing held true for her, too.

She took a deep breath and followed.



“Um, excuse me? May I ask you a technical question?” the soft, faintly accented female voice asked.

Josh Cattrell readjusted the fan inside the computer’s hard case, and groaned inwardly at this hundred and fifty thousandth interruption. He would never get this damn computer assembled before closing time unless he could get people to leave him the hell alone. “Miss, why don’t you talk to one of the other guys out on the floor?” He looked up. “One of them can answer your…uh…”

The distracted words disintegrated in his mind, like a smoke ring coming softly apart in the air until it vanished completely. Leaving the slate of his mind wiped clean. And his mouth dangling wide open.

This girl was beautiful. So outlandishly beautiful, it was like she was from another planet. Long, swinging white blond hair, huge, dark blue eyes, bee-stung lips, flower-petal-smooth skin.

And it only got more outrageous from there. He rose to his feet so that he could send his peripheral vision downward and catalog the rest of her supernatural perfection. Double D’s that defied gravity beneath a tight white tee, tiny waist with a bare midriff, pierced navel. Super lowrise jeans, clinging for dear life to the curve of a world-class ass.

He forced himself to look at her face again. He had no idea how long he’d been gawking. She was smiling at him. That mouth was amazing, full and perfect and sexily shaped. Angelina-eat-your-heart-out lips. She glowed. She shone. She was a miracle of nature, right here in Eric’s Electronics Barn.

“I am so very sorry,” she said, those long dark lashes sweeping down, casting fan-shaped shadows over her cheeks. “I disturbed you, from your work. Please excuse me, I will simply go and ask that other man, no? The red-haired man standing by the counter? Perhaps he can—”

“Oh, no! It’s no trouble at all!” Josh said. “Ask away. Anything you like. Anything.” Aw, shit. He was babbling, like an idiot. He hated himself when he did that.

But she was still smiling, amazingly. A tender, radiant smile, like he’d just offered her the moon.

It took all his brainpower to actually listen and understand her computer problem, with the combined difficulty of her accent and her unbelievable, insane gorgeousness, but eventually he started to get a vague clue: a desktop publishing program which went into conflict with other stuff on her computer and froze her system.