Lethal Affair. Jean Pichon Thomas
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get his hands on those breasts. Breasts that, without a bra, enabled him to fully appreciate their lushness. Even that smattering of freckles across her nose—
“Watch!” she cried out. “You’re drifting across the center line!”
Sweet Jesus, what was he doing? Trying to get them into an accident?
Casey immediately corrected their position on the road. After that, he made a determined effort to keep his eyes off Brenna and on his driving.
They had reached Georgetown when he managed to think of his stomach and not his libido. “I just remembered we missed lunch. It’s not too late. There’s this little seafood place on the harbor. My treat.”
“Thanks, but I’ll just grab something up at the villa. I want to make use of what’s left of the day. I’ve been neglecting my work. I don’t need to be on location to finish the seascape in the corner of the guesthouse I’m using as a studio. The light is good there.”
Back to business, huh? Disappointed or not, he couldn’t argue with her. She’d only agreed to come with him this morning because she needed the transportation he offered and not his company.
“So, I’ll deliver you to the villa.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, please drop me at the bottom of the hill. It’s an easy walk up from there.”
He understood. She didn’t want to chance being seen with him by any of the staff and having one of them report it to Marcus Bradley. Bradley wouldn’t like it. It was a realization that soured him.
Casey concentrated on dealing with the traffic as they crossed to the other side of the city, not speaking again until he stopped to let her off where she indicated.
“What about tomorrow? The silver chariot here and I will be available to chauffeur you wherever you might want to go.”
“I appreciate that, but I plan to stick close to town here on foot. The cab driver who drove me out to the airport this morning mentioned it was market day in the center of the city tomorrow. The stalls should offer some rich subjects.”
“And you wouldn’t like an escort, either by car or on foot?”
“Afraid not. I’ll be careful. I hope you understand.”
“Oh, sure, I get it. You want to be alone.”
We’ll see about that tomorrow, he promised himself.
He watched her undo her seat belt, gather up her things and start to exit the car. But she hesitated with her hand on the door handle.
“Forget something?” he asked.
She didn’t answer him for a moment. Then, as if impulsively making up her mind, she twisted around to face him again. “I need to ask you something. It’s been bothering me ever since you landed on the island.”
“Fire away.”
Another pause from her. What was it this time? Summoning the courage for whatever it was she wanted to know? She must have found it, because she suddenly blurted out her question.
“Casey, did you ever manage to forgive me for breaking off our engagement? Completely forgive me?”
He could see in her face how important this was to her. And, unlike Brenna, he didn’t need to hesitate. He answered her, not with words, but with a swift, decisive action that allowed her no chance to resist.
It was an action that involved his arms reaching out and drawing her so tightly up against him she was unable to escape. An action that involved his mouth descending to angle across hers in a forceful kiss meant to leave her in no doubt about whether or not he’d ever forgiven her.
It was also a kiss he’d been longing to give her from the moment he had discovered her the other day on the beach. A kiss that he made certain permitted him to savor the faintly flowery scent of her he had been missing all these months. A kiss that he refused to make anything but lengthy and thorough.
Whether she intended it or not, her mouth opened to him. It was all the invitation Casey needed to slide his tongue inside where he experienced the familiar, heady taste of her. He captured her own tongue in a hot wetness that threatened to spiral both his emotions and his need in a lower area out of control before he managed the wisdom to release her.
His voice was as raspy as a file when he asked her, “Does that answer your question?”
She was breathing hard, unable to form a reply. Her purse and tote had slid back onto the floor. Collecting them again, she fumbled for the handle and opened the door. She couldn’t get out of the car and away from him fast enough. He watched her hurry up the hill toward the villa.
Nice performance, McBride. She’ll probably never let you get anywhere near her again.
After that episode, Casey wondered how he could still be hungry when he drove off in search of the little seafood joint on the harbor front. But, heck, if he couldn’t satisfy one appetite, he might as well satisfy another.
He found the place all right, but there was nowhere to park. The fishing boats had come in with their catches for the day, and the area was crowded with customers wanting fresh fish.
He had no choice but to park two blocks away and walk back to the restaurant.
The waterfront was a busy place. There were vessels everywhere at the docks loading and unloading. Mostly unloading. He knew that on islands like St. Sebastian much of what was consumed had to come in from elsewhere.
He paused to watch steel drums, the kind that contained chemicals and other liquids, being transferred from a freighter into a secure, fenced enclosure. The burly white guy directing the operation had a long ponytail and tattoos covering his bare arms. He also had an unpleasant disposition. Casey didn’t much care for the way he growled at the native workers under his command. But it wasn’t his business to interfere.
With anger simmering, Casey moved on. He was nearing the restaurant, working his way through the crowd, when he felt something hard pressed tight against his back.
This wasn’t the first time in his FBI career he’d experienced this kind of thing. Not a frequent occurrence but enough to identify the barrel of a gun.
Great. Just great. As if he hadn’t already had enough excitement over the past few hours, he was about to be mugged.
He had no weapon of his own. His Glock had been confiscated, along with his FBI identification folder, back in Chicago when he was placed on suspension. And although his training had taught him several tactics for defeating an opponent, even with a gun in his back, he didn’t dare use one of them. There were too many people here, kids as well, and he wasn’t going to risk one of them being shot.
All this went through Casey’s mind in no more than the span of several seconds before he muttered a resentful but resigned “All right, let’s not hurt anyone. My wallet is in my back pocket. Just take it and clear off.”
He could feel a breath stir near his ear as a rough voice informed him sharply, “Sorry, but this ain’t any robbery.”
No native dialect, but Casey did detect a slight foreign accent. Eastern European, he thought. He’d heard them before in his work. He figured the gun must be a small one and that the guy holding it had to be pressed against him so closely that no one seemed to be noticing.
“If it isn’t a robbery, then what do you want?”
“Just to warn you, that’s all.”
What in the— “Warn me about what?”
The voice that hissed back at him had the venom of a deadly snake in it. “Stay away from her, McBride. If you know what’s good for you, stay far away from her.”
And that was it. Casey could feel the barrel of the gun retreating from his back. He should have waited for a moment more than he did to be sure it was safe before he whirled around, but he was afraid of losing