Running Off Radar, page 10
When she came back out of the bedroom with the comforter and a pillow in her arms, Maji was standing exactly where she’d left her by the little dining table with the champagne. “May I give you a hand?”
Rose warmed to the half-octave drop of Maji’s voice. “You certainly will,” Rose assured her. “Here, take an end.” They folded the comforter in thirds, and laid it over the plush carpet.
“Softer than the dojo mats,” Maji murmured.
Rose’s pulse sped up in response. The realization she might come undone tonight the way she had in the dojo only made her more determined to take her time. She would lose herself to Maji’s touch soon enough. Right now she wanted to savor her with as much awareness as she could maintain. She crossed over to the makeshift bed on the floor and lifted Maji’s pullover up. Maji helped her slip it off and tossed it into the corner. Rose couldn’t resist kissing her then.
The kiss alone almost derailed her plans, as Maji’s hands found their way under Rose’s top and along the length of her back, drawing their bodies nearly as close together as their mouths. The feel of her bra giving way brought Rose back enough to turn her head. “Stop,” she whispered.
Maji froze.
The knowledge that her lover, who could disarm multiple attackers twice her size, would heed her desires at a mere word from her delighted Rose. So this is being in charge. Taking the lead required more restraint than she’d anticipated.
Helpfully, Maji let her arms slip away from Rose’s skin. She stepped back a fraction, the tiny distance between their bodies shimmering with heat, and raised both hands in front of her bare biceps. And smiled enticingly.
Rose found her words again at last. “That’s it. T-shirt off.” Maji let her remove it as she bit her lower lip, watching Rose admire her arms and torso. She stood still while Rose slipped behind her and circled her arms around Maji’s waist, unsnapping her new jeans.
“Um,” Maji said, her voice still low but a little hoarse now, “I could probably use another shower.”
Rose brushed Maji’s french braid to one side, inhaling the skin at the back of her neck, then her shoulder. “You’ll need one soon enough,” she replied, sliding Maji’s jeans down to the floor. She hadn’t put on any of the underwear purchased this afternoon, and the warm scent of her arousal reached Rose. Rose felt herself dampen everywhere, a light sweat breaking out under her silk camisole in addition to the usual spots. Thirst hit her as she ran her hands over Maji’s thighs, and Rose straightened back up behind her. She nipped at Maji’s firm, round runner’s ass, and smiled at the little noise in response. Rose pressed herself close behind Maji, only her clothing between them, and ran one hand down Maji’s front, the other up to her breasts. Maji moaned as she leaned back into Rose. “God, I want you,” Rose breathed into her ear before sucking on the salty skin of her neck.
“You’ve got me,” Maji rasped back at her. “What now?”
“Water,” Rose declared.
She let Maji drink first, then asked, “Grab two large towels from the bath, please.”
“Uh-huh.” Maji handed her the glass and disappeared briefly. Rose filled the glass, drank it down, and refilled it. She tossed her own top aside, along with her slacks and bra. The silk camisole and ridiculously wet panties she kept on—for now. She still had plans, after all.
Rose kissed Maji slowly, deeply, with their hands clasped together behind Maji’s back. Touching the slight tack of Maji’s abrasion, she paused. Maji opened her eyes and focused, looking a little glazed from passion. “I’m healed enough. Don’t worry.”
That enticing smile returned, and Rose didn’t ask any more permission. Gently she pushed Maji down onto the comforter and carefully poured a trail of champagne down her etched belly. Rose kneeled by her side and licked and sucked the bubbly off Maji’s skin, listening to her breathing change in response. “Want some?”
Maji eyed the bottle. “To drink? Just a little.”
Rose chuckled. “I would never get you drunk and take advantage of you.”
Maji propped herself up on her elbows. “Already have. You’re the best drug ever.”
Wishing for a glass but not wanting to move either of them, Rose tipped the bottle back, taking a mouthful. She tilted Maji’s head back and gave her a drink that ended in a kiss. A contraction, sudden and fierce, surprised Rose, and she moaned, tearing her mouth away. Maji sat taller, sliding a hand into the curls at the back of Rose’s head, and kissed her deeply, not releasing her until the aftershocks of the ambushing orgasm had rolled through and subsided.
“How do you know…” Rose asked, trying to catch her breath and some remnant of dignity.
Maji smiled a lopsided smile, wonder in her eyes. “You radiate pleasure. It’s impossible not to ride that wave. You’re incredible.”
Rose felt tears starting and blinked hard. To hell with dignity. “We haven’t gotten to dessert yet.”
“Bring it.” The dare in Maji’s eyes inspired Rose to rise up off her knees, strip off the last bits of clothing, and grab the cake off the table.
“Bite?” Rose asked.
Maji looked her over. “Where?”
“Wherever I want,” Rose said. She placed a dollop of ganache on each of Maji’s pert little nipples, more than covering them.
“So not vanilla,” Maji murmured, leaning back on her elbows again.
Rose swiped her left index finger through the thick icing and offered it to Maji, who opened her mouth, her eyes never leaving Rose’s face. They both hummed as Maji sucked the ganache off Rose’s finger, eyes locked. Rose pushed Maji back onto the comforter, swinging a leg over her to straddle her hips. Then she wove her fingers between Maji’s, lowering herself until Maji was pinned and Rose’s tongue could lick the ganache away.
Maji made little sounds as her breath grew ragged again, and Rose paused just long enough to peek at her face. Finding Maji watching her, eyes open and tuned to Rose’s every touch, gave her a surge of pleasure. She levered herself up to kiss Maji, the taste of dark chocolate with cream rich between them. “Stay here,” Rose said when she could pull away at last.
Maji just watched her drink down the glass of water, a mix of happiness and hunger in her expression. When Rose offered her some, Maji shook her head slowly. Apparently, all she wanted was within sight.
Rose sank down by Maji’s feet. “Pillow. Please.”
Maji took it from under her head and handed it over, putting her hands behind her head as if to start a set of sit-ups. Rose motioned for her to lift her hips and slid the pillow underneath. Then she stretched herself out, feeling the soft carpet against every inch of her skin on the front of her body. She peeked over Maji’s hips before dipping into the glory of her glistening, swollen flesh, ripe as a fresh peach in July. And just as sweet. As Rose explored with her tongue, she heard a soft thud, and hoped it meant Maji had let her head drop, her eyes closed to release all sensations other than the ones Rose was creating.
Rose wanted to reach up and stroke Maji’s taut muscles just above her tiny curls, or find her hand and grasp it tightly. But she needed one arm to prop herself up, and the other…well, she’d kept it free of chocolate for a reason. With the fingers of her right hand, she teased at Maji’s opening. Maji lifted her hips in response, a soft keening sound reaching Rose’s ears at the same time. Oh yes.
Rose focused her tongue and lips on Maji’s clit, feeling her tense and then relax in response. Good—she was paying attention. Rose held back from pushing her too hard too quickly. Tonight was about savoring. And that teasing touch was about to change. Rose pressed two fingers smoothly inside, just a little.
“Yes. Please,” Maji breathed. “Yes.”
Rose slid deeper inside, reveling in the feel of silken heat and slipperiness. But Maji was so open to her, Rose curled those fingers out, slowly, and added one to their return. Maji hummed, and Rose nearly laughed with joy. Rose kept teasing Maji’s clit and caressing the marvelous skin wrapped around her hand until the rhythmic moans grew nearly to a howl and Maji rose up from the comforter, shouting.
Rose kept her right hand snugly in place, but let Maji drag her up to lie half on top of her, half beside her. They kissed softly, Rose surprised to taste tears. So it wasn’t just her body that responded that way to the rising tides of pleasure. “I love you,” she managed between kisses.
“I know,” Maji replied after a moment, stilling to look at Rose directly with bright, soft eyes. In the half-light, they looked darker than their daylight green. “Te adoro.”
Rose smiled and kissed her softly. “Te amo, mi corazón.”
Maji murmured back in what sounded to Rose like Russian.
“Je t’aime,” Rose whispered.
Maji gave her a dose of what Rose recognized as Hebrew in reply. “I love you,” Maji said. “You’ve heard it in Farsi.” Her next words sounded like the dinnertime poetry but stirred an older, more visceral memory. “Sound familiar?”
Rose rested her head on Maji’s shoulder and traced the lines of her face with her fingers. “I thought that’s what you said before.” The words had ripped out of Maji that night last summer as if they hurt her. Everything that followed had been a surrender to the truth. “It’s good to know, though.”
“It seemed like you knew.”
“I did. But you seemed so unhappy about it. Like you didn’t want to.”
“I didn’t.” Maji’s hand trailed up from Rose’s shoulder to her ear, where it tickled. “I wanted to protect you.”
The self-mockery in Maji’s tone took some of the sting from the memory. “You’re a lovable idiot.”
Maji repeated I know in several languages.
Rose sighed. “I don’t want you to protect me from you.”
“Even if I disappear in the middle of our week together?”
“Even if you have to go, yes. And whenever I get to see you again after this.”
Maji glanced away and inhaled deeply. “Damn, we smell good. You want more champagne?”
“No. I want our bed. Would you like a shower first?”
“If you come with me.”
“Sold.”
Chapter Nine
The sky was overcast but beautiful in its own way. And Maji found the low sixties, with just a hint of a breeze, nearly ideal for running. After six or seven sound hours of sleep, she’d woken at a quarter to six and slipped out of bed. Rose needed more sleep, and Maji needed her running fix. One of the conditions of her Reserve status was that she maintain her level of fitness however she could. On Long Island, Hannah helped her keep a well-rounded regimen. But on missions she often had to sneak in exercise, as weight training and martial arts rarely fit her cover. Today she could seriously use a workout too, but the town’s trails and quiet streets called to her in a way the gym never did. No matter how brief her assignment in Sitka might be, it never hurt to get the lay of the land.
The retail shops Maji passed were all closed, and no cars stopped at the traffic light locals referred to as The Light. Did they really only have one? Even the Highliner coffee shop and the fire station next to it looked asleep, no sign of the staff she knew must be inside. She reveled in the magic hour—that still time when a runner felt like she owned the whole world. Looking toward Crescent Harbor, Maji noted a few souls on the docks and a lot of empty slips. Magic hour for commercial fishing boats must be predawn here, as it was in most ports. She wondered how Heather’s sister was doing today. Would she wake at her usual oh dark thirty even in the hospital, pulled by the water as Maji was by the pavement and trails? Maybe she’d even be on her vessel by now.
With that idea in mind, Maji turned west, passing the cathedral and the Community House. As she approached ANB Harbor she slowed. Maybe for once she should stick to her own lane. Problem was, all signs pointed to yesterday’s shenanigans tying in to all the other weird bits of intel and intuition. In a few hours her orders might put her right back here. Why not do a little advance recon?
Down on the dock where Heather had gone in search of her sister yesterday, a small figure in a blue uniform pounded on the stern of a fishing boat, waited a beat, and headed back up toward the parking lot. A cop? No, wrong uniform.
The short, pretty woman with glossy black hair pulled back into a bun looked at her suspiciously. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe.” Maji read Taira embroidered in white over one pocket, US Coast Guard over the other. “I was looking for the captain of a boat. Female, about my height, got hurt here yesterday. Do you know which boat is hers?”
“Who’s asking?”
“A friend of the family.”
Taira shook her head. “I’ve never seen you around. Want to try that one again?”
“A rider on Heather’s tour bus who pitched in yesterday.” Maji respected the woman’s protectiveness. “Not a reporter, not a friend of the two jackasses who got arrested. I’m just here for a conference, tried to take a tour yesterday. That better?”
Taira sighed. “Yeah. But she’s not down there. Might still be in the hospital. Heather will know.”
“I’ll check in with her later then. Thanks,” Maji said, and headed farther out Katlian Street, past ANB Hall and more fishing-related businesses. The sight of Ludvig’s brought back memories and kicked in Maji’s appetite. Just a few miles, and then she’d enjoy a hot shower and a large breakfast. Possibly the last of either for a while.
On Halibut Point Road, the sight of a McDonald’s surprised her. But the laundromat and apartment buildings reminded her that even in a place this spectacularly beautiful, not everyone was living their dream vacation. And it probably didn’t feel so refreshing when short dark days brought cold rain and high winds. She wondered what it was like to be Tlingit here, surrounded by people who had come from other places to make a living on your land and didn’t even recognize you. And the tourists who came looking for Russian America. Maybe when she saw Rose in California she’d get to hear her thoughts on that.
At the big grocery store that advertised twenty-four-hour shopping, fresh fish, and fresh produce, Maji popped in to use the restroom. The view from the parking lot included fishing boats, open water, and Mount Edgecumbe. She was tempted to call Rose just to tell her she was eating an apple at the grocery store with the most beautiful view in the US. Instead she pitched the core to a seagull and headed back toward town, past a large pond with eccentric moose sculptures, somewhat overreachingly named Swan Lake. Rush hour appeared to have started, because the compact cars and four-wheel-drive trucks had to yield as they navigated the traffic circle. Could do with a second light. But then what would they call them?
Using the map she’d locked in her mind, Maji followed Sawmill Creek Road past the cemetery. Eagles and ravens both perched in the trees, reminding her of their visit to the Raptor Center and Rose’s remarks. Would Rose have such a high opinion of her when she had been briefed on all the sorts of tasks Delta took on? Not that anyone would tell her mission specifics, but even just from stories and jokes the guys did tell, her work couldn’t possibly seem so simple and clean as Rose made it sound when she’d asked, Did you help someone?
As Maji passed the turnoff for Indian River Road, a group of mostly men in gray T-shirts and dark gym shorts passed her, heading toward the buildings visible beyond the Public Safety Training Academy sign. On the far side of the road another group headed in the same direction, led by a man in a red shirt. Spotting her, he waved and hollered something she didn’t catch. Maji waved and kept going, still not used to how casually friendly the locals were. She’d lost count of the number of times a driver had lifted one hand off the wheel in greeting. As she crossed over Indian River mulling the oddity of small town life, the sound of feet slapping pavement behind her made her turn. The cadet’s shirt clung darkly to his torso, and Maji hoped he wouldn’t throw up on her.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Sucking wind, he managed to get out, “Corporal Duncan wants to see you, ma’am. He’s coming to pick you up.”
Before Maji could place the name, a pickup slowed and pulled off just ahead of them. She walked up to the cab and recognized the driver as Trooper Stu. He’d been quite courteous the day before, so she just said, “Morning.”
“Hey, glad I caught you. Been a weird night.”
“Is the fisherwoman okay?
“Dee—yeah. Going home today. But that’s the good news. Can I borrow you for a few minutes?”
Maji hesitated, fighting a reluctance to be caught by any law officer, a holdover from years of evading them as a teen. “Sure,” she said at last. When he leaned over and pushed the door open, she climbed in.
“Dee will pull through fine,” Stu said as he drove the short stretch back to the Academy. “You don’t run a fishing boat around here if you’re not tough as hell—and that goes double for women. But how are we going to protect her if we can’t arrest those guys? Really fucking cheeses me off, pardon my French.”
“Are you telling me they aren’t in custody?”
“No. That’s the bad news. Some guy came with diplomatic passports, insisted the SPD let them out. I guess they called somebody, who called somebody, who said yeah, diplomatic immunity.”
“How long ago?”
“Twenty, maybe thirty minutes ago. Thought you’d want to know, being in Diplomatic Security and all. And if you could, maybe help us keep an eye out for them too.”
Maji nodded. “Sure. Thanks. How far’s the police station? I’d like to see the booking reports, photos if possible.”
“I can do you one better. Come in—I’ll hook you in via my desktop.”
Maji followed him inside and accepted both water and coffee while he got the Sitka Police Department on his desk phone and computer screen. The officer on speakerphone was no happier about the situation and was willing to share the photos of the men’s passports, as well as security footage of the man who had brought them to the station to expedite his friends’ release.
Tom. Maji made sure her face betrayed no sign that she recognized her Delta teammate on the grainy video. She had heard he was attempting to infiltrate what was left of Sirko’s network but had hoped for his sake that some other operative beat him to it. Not that she’d wish that on any of the guys in Delta. To prove himself worthy of Sirko’s trust, who knew what kind of pain he’d had to inflict? Her nightmares might be hellish, but she could still face herself while awake. If Tom was here springing those two thugs, two things were clear: Sirko was the man behind this curtain, and Tom wasn’t about to give up his cover and head home. She wondered if JSOC had any way for her to connect with him, without putting him at risk.
