Katherine threw back the covers on her bed when she heard a pounding on the door of her room.
"Who is it?"
"Kat!" A muffled, yet very familiar voice called. "It's me, Leem!"
She hurried to the door and flipped the latch. When she swung it open, Leem stood out on the other side looking very serious and quite winded. His large chest heaved with breaths.
"Thank God," he muttered. "You're alright?"
She frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"
He gulped in a breath. "Can I come in?"
She stepped aside and swept her arm towards the room. Leem walked by her and spun around. Then he stalked towards the window and yanked the curtains closed. She had seen him irritated (usually with his brother), contemplative (always), amused (at times), in good spirits (mostly), confused (well, aghast really, as in when she threw herself at him) but she had not yet seen him . . . fazed by anything. In fact, it was one of the things she found so very . . . oh, she had to admit it then, HOT, about him. He never seemed afraid. So, she found herself very anxious all of a sudden.
"What's going on?"
His eyes searched around the room. He spied her small suitcase, picked it up and threw it on the bed.
"We've got ta go, I'm afraid," he mumbled. "I think we're found out. You aren't going to be able ta bring this so I need you to pick something comfortable to wear . . ."
His eyes finally came to rest on her dressed in her nightdress. His words died on his lips as he scanned down the length of her body.
Katherine felt heat flush through her face and then spread down her chest to the rest of her body. Actually, her nightdress was more of a long tank. It just barely skimmed the top of her thighs. She stood very upright. If she moved at all, he would probably get an eyeful of her polka dot patterned, lace trimmed knickers.
A slight frown creased his brow and a stormy look crossed his face. He dropped his chin as he came towards her and flicked the spaghetti strap of her nightwear.
"What the hell are you wearing?"
She crossed her arms. "My pajamas."
He glowered. "Pajamas is plural. This is singular. Nah, forget that. It's barely a fraction of clothing. "
She stuck out her bottom lip even as his numbers references made her a little flustered. "What does it matter what I wear to sleep?"
He stepped closer. "You're supposed to be ready to go at a moment's notice."
Kat tucked her bottom lip in. Suddenly, she couldn't resist antagonizing him. She didn't know where her boldness came from but her voice dropped an octave and she leaned towards him.
"Oh, I'm always ready to go."
He pushed a stream of air out and licked his lips. He squinted at her for a moment then took one last step into her space. He bumped into her.
"An' here I thought ya were a good girl, Kat," he muttered as he looked her face over, "but you're not. You're a minx."
She felt a wash of sensation through her abdomen. She lifted her chin. All she wanted him to do was . . . do something! She almost laughed at herself. When had she become so debauched? Like, apparently, they were in some sort of peril and here she was preoccupied with flirting with her bodyguard.
"Do you know many minxes, Leem?"
His nostrils enlarged. "Not one."
"Do you want to?"
"Kat," he said with an exhale as grabbed her upper arms."Aarg . . ."
Then his mouth was on hers and his hands slid up her backside over the curve of her bum under her nightdress. She felt him clutch her tightly against his frame. His fingers brushed along the lace at the waistband of her panties. She made a little sound against his mouth and clutched his shoulders.
"Yes, yes, yes . . ."
The door burst open behind them.
"Noooooo!"
They launched apart, each of them panting heavily. Katherine's face burned as she looked up to see both Fil and Sherlock Holmes enter her room. Mr. Holmes raised his brow towards the ceiling and rolled his eyes.
"Your two minutes are up, Leem," he drawled.
"Oh, crap," he rubbed the back of his head. "I'm sorry, My first thought was to come here."
"I see that."
Katherine watched Leem go red in the face.
Fil scoffed. "Is there really a problem with our ride or was this just an excuse ta come over here and bother the doctor?"
Leem scratched his forehead. "Nah, no! The car's been moved. It ain't in the same place and someone's been handling it. I'm also pretty damn sure they're out there watching things."
"Are you certain, Mr. Coley?" Sherlock asked with a furrowed brow.
Leem looked back at Katherine with a frown and jerked his head towards the bed. "Cover yourself, Kat. They don' need to see you like this . . ."
She sputtered a laugh. "And you do?"
"Kat!" He growled.
There was something a little thrilling about the way his eyes darkened and the corner of his mouth twitched. She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a very direct stare.
"Two kisses does not make me yours to order about, Leem," she thought.
"Mr. Coley!" Sherlock prodded impatiently.
He turned back towards the other men. "Yes, Mr. Holmes. The Felicia's been tampered with it. I'd bet my life on it. At best, we're talking cut brake lines or something, at worst, a bomb. I don' even advise touchin' it."
Katherine felt her heart speed up. A bomb! Dear Lord! She shook as she reached for her suitcase and hastily pulled out a pair of jeans.
"What do we do then?" Fil asked.
Sherlock waved his hand at them. "Everyone shut up for a moment and let me think."
While the great man was muttering and walking in circles, Katherine escaped to the bathroom to get dressed. She met eyes with Leem just before she shut the door. He looked very worried. She drew in a quivering breath and locked herself in the loo. She sat down on the toilet for a few moments with her head in her hands.
It was all so crazy. She wished, well, . . . she wished she wasn't the way she was sometimes. She could never just leave well enough alone. She always had something to prove which was why she was in her current situation.
She didn't understand her compulsion to figure things out down to their minutiae. It had served her well in her career, no doubt. She was the youngest female math professor ever to teach at Cambridge. She had excelled there and really connected with her students but it hadn't been enough. She'd gotten restless and issued a challenge to them.
"Entertain me," she'd dared, "find me something to relieve my boredom."
So, one of her students had challenged her to code break. He was an active member in a vigilante hacker group. He brought her some lines of computer code that a terrorist organization was using to send each other messages. She'd started with one message, then another and it had snowballed. She had gotten one of her mentors involved and even caught the attention of the British government as she sought to decipher all their communications.
Unfortunately, she had never really thought about protecting herself. She had blogged about her exploits, issued pay-it-forward type challenges to other institutions and basically done everything she could to paint a big, neon target on her back.
And they came for her and her mentor, Dr. Ross. A young man had turned up at his door with a gun and killed him, his brother and a cousin at a family function before killing himself. A different fellow fired a shot at her in the parking lot at school. Had it not been for a fast acting campus security guard, she'd probably be dead.
That hadn't been the end of it though. She was a woman who'd made enemies with long memories. It didn't matter that she lived. Her life was over. She hardly understood the point of this attempt to stow her among the Roma. Mycroft had thought he could disrupt the main terrorist cell that had made her their prime target but she wasn't a complete dullard. Her name was out there. She may as well be a satirical cartoonist. That might be a safer profession.
She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. She should just walk out into the parking lot, jump in the car and let it blow her up. Then, this would all be over with and everyone would be safe. Sherlock Holmes could return home to his new wife. Fil could go eat his crisps and watch his football and relax and Leem could go find a proper girlfriend, like someone who wouldn't get him fired because facing death made her inexplicably horny.