CHAPTER 9—THE LITTLE THINGS
Donovan stood stark naked in the living room staring down at the cell phone as if it were some exotic animal. Lomax was his friend, and he would have trusted him with his life, but he had difficulty accepting his accusations. He dropped the phone back into his jacket pocket. He reentered the bedroom and saw that Remy hadn't moved half an inch. He opened a dresser drawer and dug around until he found a pair of tattered pajama bottoms. He slipped into them before climbing onto the bed.
"Remy, wake up," he called to her, touching her arm at the same time.
She rose up slowly, stretching and yawning at the same time. She opened her eyes and immediately settled them on Donovan's face. His expression unsettled her. Not again, she thought with a great deal of sadness. "Frank? Please don't say you're sorry again," she said softly.
He shook his head. "I'm not sorry, Remy, but we need to talk."
Feeling vulnerable and exposed, she absently began searching for something to put on.
Donovan took hold of her forearm. "Don't."
"What is it?"
He wasn't sure how to approach this without sounding like a jealous prick. A thought entered his mind: Am I a jealous prick? In his usual bulldozer fashion, he plunged ahead: "Have you been making passes at the last two agents sent to protect you?"
She gaped at him. "You bastard. I'm not a whore, no matter what the press has written about me." She would have gotten off the bed if it hadn't been for his vise-like grip on her arm.
Where is my tact, he thought. "Would you listen," he asked. She said nothing, only stared at him. He continued, "I don't like playing games, Remy. Neither of us has time for them. Do you understand?"
"I understand," she said. "I'm not playing any kind of game. If I were, wouldn't you be dead now? How can you take me to bed, make love to me three times, and then give me this kind of shit?" She wrenched her arm out of his grasp, but he grabbed her again.
"Listen to me," he demanded. He drew her tightly up against his body. His face was mere inches from hers. "I'm not giving you shit. If I hadn't wanted you, do you think you would be here at all? Now more than ever, you have to be straight with me. If you're hiding any secrets now, or in the past, I want you to tell me. If I find out about them later, I'll make your life hell."
His words would seem a bit harsh to the average person, but his tone of voice was the exact opposite. It was strange, but it seemed as if he was taking her word over the FBI. It was odd. She had never had anyone to believe in her like that.
"Too late," she whispered against his lips. "You've done that already."
He kissed her very softly, his lips almost making no contact at all. "I mean it," he said, his voice low and gentle.
Remy's arm slid around his waist, encircling it. "There's nothing you don't know about me, Frank," she whispered, her voice husky with renewed desire. "I couldn't hold anything back from you, especially not now."
Donovan pressed his mouth fully against hers, slipping his tongue inside, touching hers, teasing her. He brought her body back down on the bed and came down on top of her. Her other arm joined the first and came around him. Together, her hands traveled downward and slipped inside his pajama bottoms. Her fingers gripped his buttocks and her nails dug into them.
He broke the kiss and drew in a sharp hiss of breath. "Damn, Remy," he sighed. "What do you have, nails or claws?"
"Both," she said with a grin.
He kissed her again, but this time briefly. "We have to get you out of here," he said with great difficulty. He wanted nothing more than to make love to her again, but it just wasn't safe enough.
"Right now," she asked as her hands continued to squeeze and knead.
"Mmmm," he moaned, "yes. But you must stop this."
She slowly slid her hands up his back. "Okay," she said, sighing in resignation. "Let me up."
Donovan brought his body up and left the bed. Remy remained where she was, and kept her body sprawled seductively across the bed. She couldn't do this to him. She didn't understand how close she would be to death if they remained here together. Her situation was more than precarious, and she wasn't aware that her protection had ended. It was something she needed know, but he couldn't tell her. He had sworn himself to protect her at all costs, and by God, that was what he was going to do.
* * *
Alex, Cody, Monica, and Jake listened to the message a dozen times or more. Donovan had said few words: I'm leaving town, I'm not sure when I'll be back. It was simple, to the point, and annoyingly Donovan. Their boss had lost his mind. As they stood crowded around in a small huddle discussing Donovan's pending nervous breakdown, they heard a bustle of activity going on just outside the office door. Jake grew annoyed by the racket and flung the door open in a huff. He was faced with three or four G-men with identical scowls on their faces. Among the group was Donovan's buddy, Ed Lomax.
"What the hell are you doing," Jake asked gruffly.
"FBI, my man," Lomax said smugly. "We have search warrants. Oh, and by the way, we also have a federal arrest warrant for Frank. It appears he has taken our witness hostage."
* * *
Donovan had been driving almost six hours, and he couldn't take it anymore. They weren't even close to a town with a hotel. He did the only thing he could; he pulled the car over on a gravel road out in the country. Remy sat opposite him, watching him closely. He seemed troubled, but he wouldn't tell her what was on his mind. She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid down the seat toward him. He put his arm around her and drew her body close to his. He placed a kiss atop her head before resting his cheek against her silky hair.
"You could always let me drive," she whispered.
"Not my car," he said with a grin, trying his damn best to lighten the moment.
"Frank? What is it? I know there is something you're not telling me."
He closed his eyes and embraced her tightly against his body. In all his years with the FBI, he had never allowed himself to lose his composure, had never become emotional no matter how difficult the situation. However, now it was different. He knew he would have to tell her that they were basically on their own. He wasn't sure how she would take it. For once, Donovan was afraid and entirely unsure as to what he should do. He didn't have long to ponder. His cell phone began to ring, and he was startled there was even service way out here. At first, he didn't want to answer it, because he was almost certain that it would not be good news.
He dug the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. "What is it," he asked tiredly.
"Boss, what's going on," Jake demanded from six hours away. "We've been invaded by the goddamn FBI."
Donovan's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? The FBI?"
"They had search warrants, and your buddy says they're arresting you. What's going on," he spat.
Shit. The whole world had gone insane. There was an arrest warrant for him? He refused to say anything over the cell phone. If he knew his buddy as well as he thought, the frequency was probably being monitored. "Goodbye Jake." Without another word, he shut off the phone and threw it carelessly in the backseat.
Remy pulled back from him. "Frank?"
He gazed deeply into her stunning eyes. "We're on our own," he said, finally telling her. He had no choice, not now.
Stunned, she stared at him, her mouth gaping open. "What do you mean?"
"You've been taken off protection. I'm the only one here for you right now. The FBI has backed off."
Remy was too horrified to speak or cry. She couldn't comprehend his words. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. She suddenly felt as if she had been sucked into a vacuous void without a beginning or end. "Are you saying what I think you're saying," she spat. "The FBI is after you now?"
He didn't say a word; he didn't have to. It was all over him, especially in his eyes.
"Frank, take me back, right now, this instant. All I have to do is go back to my old place and wait this out. Let them have me. I don't want you to face the end of your career because of me. I won't have it. Take me back. Now."
"No," he said viciously, nearly spitting the word at her. "You're not to sacrifice your life for me." He took her by her forearms and pulled her body toward his. "Say it, Remy. Say it back to me, or I'll fucking cuff you to my wrist for the rest of your life. Say it."
"I won't, Frank, I won't," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You won't what," he demanded, his eyes literally burning straight through her.
"I won't-won't sacrifice my-my life," she cried.
Satisfied for the moment, he drew her to him and kissed her hungrily
* * *
After a short break, Remy finally convinced Donovan to allow her to drive until they at least found a hotel. He relented, but only because he was exhausted. When Remy pulled the car into the parking lot of a small motor lodge, she saw that Donovan was asleep. The instant the car stopped moving, he snapped himself awake. He wanted to make sure that she didn't take off again. He was worried that she would run. He couldn't believe the relief he felt when he saw her still beside him in the car.
"You need some serious bed time, Frank, you look bad," she said. "You stay here, and I'll get the rooms."
Curiously, he studied her. "We're not getting separate rooms," he said. He could clearly read her plan in her eyes. He had played this game before.
"We don't have to," she said innocently, a little too innocently for his taste.
"I meant it about the cuffs, Remy," he said.
"I know, Frank," she said softly. "I don't intend to run, I told you. What will it take for you to trust me?"
"I trust you," he said, and he meant it. "But I'm concerned. Don't make me lose that trust."
Without a word, the two of them got out of the car and retrieved their bags. Tiredly, they walked up to the manager's office and paid for a room. The instant they went inside, Remy immediately went into the bathroom and started the shower. By the time she climbed beneath the near scalding water, Donovan drew back the curtain and stepped inside.
"Can't you leave me alone long enough to shower," she asked, feigning hurt.
He ran his hands along her wet flesh. "Nope," he said nonchalantly.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around his waist. She halfway hoped he didn't want to make love to her in the shower. A Suburban, she didn't mind; up against the wall, she could tolerate; but in a slippery tiled shower, that was a new thing altogether. His large hands were hotter than the water pouring from the rusty spigot. She figured they were both headed for concussions. His lips broke away from hers and traveled down her throat as his hands moved down to her breasts. His long fingers kneaded them, teased her nipples.
"Frank?"
"Remy," he said against her throat, his teeth nipping her flesh, his goatee tickling her incredibly.
His thumbs and forefingers were tweaking each nipple gently. The sensation was horrible, terrible, but excruciatingly wonderful at the same time. "I-I don't want to fall," she said. Her voice was shaky, filled with passion.
Donovan drew away from her and drank her in with his eyes, which were darkened more by his lust. "No?"
Never had one word meant so many different things at once. What did he mean? What did he want? There were so many questions inside her that would never be answered. "Not here," she whispered.
He smiled a little. He had thrown her way off guard, but that was okay. "Very well, then."
He drew away from her, shut off the water, and took hold of her hand. He gently pulled her along with him. Both of them were wet, and they were grateful that there were two beds in the room. One could be soaked from the water on their bodies, and there would still be another awaiting them when they decided to go to sleep. Donovan lifted her body up into his arms and laid her on the bed. He came down to lean over her and his lips began to follow a trail of water droplets from her neck, to her breasts, and down onto her flat stomach. By then, Remy was shaking, and it wasn't from a chill. He moved up to kiss her again, and her hands slid down his arms, stopping at his hands where her fingers entwined with his. When the kiss was broken, they switched positions, and Remy took the liberty to touch him, to caress his taut flesh, to run her hands over his smooth muscle. He entered her while she was atop him and she met every thrust; every fiber of her being was in tune with his. She couldn't explain it, she didn't want to. She had told him she didn't want to fall, but she wasn't sure that was exactly true, and she knew it wouldn't be a hard task at all.
* * *
Donovan was asleep when Remy freed herself from his embrace. She dressed in the dark, facing him the entire time. Once fully clothed, she slung her bag over her shoulder and crept toward the door. She turned and glanced longingly at Donovan one last time. Without a sound, she opened the door and walked away.
