Under Pressure (Body Armor #1)(93)

Leese seemed tireless, determined to make her scream. She needed more.

So much more.

Like everything he had to give.

Just as she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, as the rough whimper rose from her throat, he repositioned himself flat on the bed, nuzzled against her, then softly sucked on her clitoris while rasping with his tongue.

Cat held him close, her fingers in his hair, her thighs clasped around his ears as the climax exploded. Leese kept her there, on that sharp edge of pleasure, until she whimpered again.

He kissed his way up her limp body, then settled them both beneath the covers.

Cat could barely breathe, much less think. Lassitude stole her worries, and when Leese whispered, “Much better,” she figured that might have been his purpose.

He drew her into his arms and held her close. Just before sleep claimed her, he vowed, “You’re mine, Cat.”

She smiled...and faded away.

*

TESH IGNORED THE code beeping on his phone. It had been going off for hours now. Over and over and fucking over until he wanted to crush it in his fist. Instead, utilizing tight control, he turned off the phone, dismantled it, then dumped the pieces, one by one, on his drive to a secure location.

It was past midnight, the sky black, the air so cold it hurt his lungs to breathe. Exhaustion tried to drag him down, but he ignored it. In his assignments for Platt, he’d spent many sleepless nights doing what needed to be done.

What he’d enjoyed doing.

From here on out, he’d be on his own—and hell, that suited him just fine.

Not that Platt realized it yet. Once he’d been picked up near the Body Armor agency, the senator had expected him to show. He wanted an accounting, maybe retribution.

Tesh snorted. Not bloody likely.

Platt could rot for all he cared. Did the delusional prick really think he still called the shots? Was he arrogant enough, stupid enough, to think Tesh would answer a summons at this point? Hell no.

Things had gone wrong. Horribly wrong.

The bodyguard was still alive, but Johnson and Miller were both in the hospital. By now the cops would be all over them, and no doubt Catalina had been moved.

If they recovered, Tesh wasn’t worried about either of his men talking, not when they understood the consequences. But if anyone started backtracking, they could find a vague trail that led to him.

Or Platt.

Better Platt, Tesh decided. Let him take the heat.

All Tesh wanted was his kitten.

Once he got her, he’d seed the trail with information that would lead authorities straight to Platt’s door. As Platt’s most trusted cleanup man, Tesh had it all, every detail, dates and times and names, reservations and itineraries, everything needed to show the world what a sick, cruel, perverted bastard their favorite senator really was. He’d bury Platt so deep, there wouldn’t be money enough or influence enough for him to dig himself out.

Then Tesh could live out his life in peace...with little Catalina.

Pacing in the dim interior of the bankrupt shop, a property he’d acquired on his own so Platt would know nothing about it, Tesh thought out his plan.

The easiest course now would be to shadow Platt. Eventually the senator would come after him, or he’d go after Catalina. Either way, when he moved, Tesh would have him.

Platt might suspect, and might attempt to cover himself. But Tesh had trained every man who worked for him. He knew their habits, their strengths and their weaknesses.

As an added advantage, Tesh had used the years of burying the senator’s secrets and sweeping up his messes to build his own alliances, contacts that rivaled those of the senator’s.

With a grim smile, Tesh anticipated the coming conflict. He knew he’d come out on top. Didn’t he always?

But that was for tomorrow; tonight he had to figure out the ramifications of the massive fuck-up perpetrated at the agency. Far as he could tell there was only one loose end.

The secretary had survived.

Unlike Johnson and Miller, that diminutive man would tell everything he could. Tesh admired his guts even as he plotted ways to finish him off.

If they hadn’t been in such a congested area with work crews a mere block away, Tesh would have put a bullet in Enoch’s brain. But gunshot had a way of drawing attention. At the very least, he should have cut Enoch’s throat and let him bleed out.

But the need for violence had gotten the better of him, and so he’d gotten sloppy, using his hands instead of a weapon.

Regret was a son of a bitch.

Maybe he should just bomb the hospital? Kill them all... No. That would bring out far too much scrutiny. He wouldn’t even be able to move in the shadows without someone spotting him.

As he paced, Tesh considered his options.

The police had no doubt already talked to Webb, alerting him to his daughter’s whereabouts. The fighter would be sticking to her closer than ever. And Ms. Silver would have hidden her someplace very secure.

Where are you, kitten?

He jammed his hands in his pockets and found the papers he’d taken from Enoch’s briefcase. Moving to a window where the light from streetlamps penetrated, Tesh skimmed the notes, looking for something useful—

Ah, the itinerary.

Given all that happened, the schedule had probably changed, but just in case... Tesh smiled as he began to read in detail.

*

THE SUN CAME out with a vengeance, as if it hoped to lift the spirits of the glum group gathered around Sahara’s kitchen table, imbibing massive amounts of coffee. Leese didn’t always like to use the artificial adrenaline of caffeine to get his day going, but this wasn’t just any day.