Ultimate Weapon (McClouds & Friends #6)(36)

“Holy freaking shit. What the—Jesus, Tam!”

Tam turned her head. Davy and Nick stared down at her, mouths agape, guns pointed at Janos. Janos looked at her, and silently raised his eyebrow. He did not let go of her hands.

Tam licked her lips. “Ah…um,” she said, inanely.

Davy slowly lifted his gun. “Help me out here, Tam,” he said carefully. “You hit the panic button, right? So what’s the deal?”

Panic button? Oh. Yes. The button. Tam’s gaze dropped to her thigh where the band with the panic button was strapped. In the throes of heaving on the floor with her legs clamped around Janos’s thighs, the button had tripped itself. Against the floor most likely. Very funny.

It took effort, under Janos’s weight, to suck in enough breath to speak. “M-must have gotten pushed by accident. Sorry for the adrenaline rush, boys. Thanks for the speedy response. Nice to know you care.”

“So, uh, I assume then that everything’s cool then?” Davy’s voice was wary. “We can, er…leave you to it?”

She smiled coolly. “Yes, gentlemen. Thank you for your concern, but I have the matter completely in hand.”

Davy’s eyes flicked to her wrists, still clamped in Janos’s unwavering grip, and cleared his throat. He was trying not to grin without much success. “Yeah. We’ll just disappear. Right? Bye.”

He slunk out the door, but Nick lingered, a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. “Man, I take my hat off to you,” he said to Janos. “You must have monster cojones to tangle with this hellcat. I suggest you watch out for ’em.”

“Oh, but I will,” Janos said.

“Piss off, Nick,” Tam snapped.

Nick ducked out the door, still chortling. The door swung shut.

Tam forced herself to meet Janos’s gaze, and realized, with intense discomfort, that she could think of nothing to say. That earthshaking orgasm had wiped her brain clean.

“A panic button?” He smiled. “No microphones? I’m glad to know that our conversation was private, at least.”

“You can let go of my hands.” She felt, oh God, almost shy.

“You’re wearing sixteen different kinds of death draped over your body,” he pointed out.

“I won’t cut, spray, scratch, or stick you with any of them,” she said. “At least, not without fresh provocation.”

He gave her a cautious smile. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“You don’t,” she said. “You have to risk it. Didn’t you just strip me bare, read my mind, make me come? Don’t you trust your instincts?”

He grunted. “No. I do not trust anything. But I will trust you, Tamara…this once. Just because I want to. No other reason.”

Tears stung her. Ridiculous. She was going soft. This was probably just a deeper level of his clever games, but if so, it was subtler than she was. “That’s dangerous,” she whispered.

“I know.” His words sounded heartfelt. He let go the steely grip he had on her wrists and rolled off her body.

Tam rubbed her sore wrists as she sat up. Heat lingered in her face and glowed in her body. She felt so light, without him on top of her. Like she might float away. A silly, frivolous girl. Insubstantial.

And vulnerable. She hated feeling vulnerable.

He got to his feet. She hastened to follow. No way was she staying crumpled on the floor, huddled in his shadow.

She stumbled, and Janos caught her instantly. His move was so slick, so graceful, it felt inevitable that she should end up in his arms, kissing him again. His lips were so pleading and soft and hot, his body throbbing magnetic male energy at her, through her.

Panic cramped the sweet swell of longing, and she fought free of the kiss. “No,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t push your luck.”

“My luck?” He grinned, and she was dazzled by the devastating white teeth, the deep dimples. “The luck was yours, bella. I want to push your luck. As far as it will go, and I think it can go very far.”

She pushed at his chest. “No. Stop,” she said shakily. “Enough.”

“Let me.” He sank to his knees, sliding his hands under the loose black silk of her blouse. “Let me please you. For hours.”

She shuddered as the warm, rough rasp of his calluses scraped over the sensitive skin of her belly, and pushed at his face, feeling the strong bones, the hot velvety skin of him. “You are not going to get lucky tonight, you oversexed son of a bitch, so back off!”

He rose gracefully to his feet, looking resigned.

“Tell me your real name, who sent you, and what the hell you want from me,” she demanded. “That’s all I ever wanted from this meeting. I’m not leaving until I get it. And neither are you.”

All the playfulness went out in his face. The energy of the room changed. It felt colder. Darker.

Oh, no. Oh, shit. Whatever it was that he had to tell her, it was something she would not enjoy hearing, she realized with a sickening flash of insight. Her belly began to hurt.

He tried to smile, but the effort was hollow. “Promise me you won’t kill me,” he said.

She did not smile back. “I make no promises.”

He stared down at the remainder of their meal. “I don’t have any name other than Val Janos to give you,” he said. “The name I was born with means nothing to anyone, so you might as well stick with Janos. It’s one of several identities that I use. In my work.”