Yours In Black Lace

“How about, ‘Ooh, James’?”

A chuckle escaped her at his impression of the line spoken by every woman in every Bond movie. Great body, bad-boy attitude and a sense of humor. What more could she ask for?

As Emelio pushed open the level-three entrance, Stevie took a quick look around and then followed him toward the corner parking spaces. It was all very stealthy and exciting. She watched him walk to the passenger side of a silver sports car and pretend to check the tires. Then he reached inside the wheel well and pulled out a small metal box. Inside was a set of keys.

“Well, I’m disappointed. I thought I was finally going to learn how to hot-wire.”

“I’ll teach you some other time.” He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her.

She lowered herself onto the gray leather seat and swung her legs inside. “Mmm. Very nice. Whose car is this?”

“It’s registered to the corporation, so technically it belongs to the agency.” He shut her in and walked around the rear of the vehicle.

By the time he reached the other side, she was already in the driver’s seat. She rolled down the window when he tapped impatiently on the glass. “Since it’s the agency’s car, I get to drive. Hop in, handsome, and I’ll take you for a ride.”

At her choice of words frown lines appeared between his eyebrows, warring with a flash of sexual interest in his gaze. Then his expression cleared and she saw the corner of his mouth relax, though it wasn’t quite a smile.

Emelio nodded once in agreement. “Makes sense, since you know the way to your apartment.”

She started the engine and snuggled into the driver’s seat. “Sweet getaway car. Does it have a rocket launcher or remote-controlled steering?”

“You watch way too many movies.” He handed her the card key to get past the garage’s electronic gate.

As she turned her head to check for oncoming traffic, a beige sedan idling against the curb caught her eye. Looking at the man behind the wheel triggered alarms in her brain. “Emelio, I think that’s the messenger Tiffnee described.”

He swung his head to where she indicated. “Start driving and see if he follows.”

She eased out into traffic, trying to watch where she was going and peer into the rearview mirror at the same time. The presence of the messenger was unnerving, but she welcomed the challenge. She’d always wanted to drive a getaway car.

Emelio’s cell phone began to chime. “Hello? Angie. I can’t— Yes, I know—”

Didn’t those women ever stop calling him? The sudden stab of jealousy annoyed the hell out of her, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. “The beige sedan is pulling away from the curb, heading this way.”

“We’ll have to talk later, cari?a.” He disconnected the call and tossed the phone into the beverage holder.

Cari?a, again. He could at least show enough imagination to give his girlfriends different endearments. Envy had her growling as she glanced in the mirror again. “He’s only two cars behind us now.”

“Find someplace to pull over.”

“Forget it. We’ll be perfect targets.” Stevie waited until the traffic light turned yellow. Then she shifted down into second gear and hit the gas. The powerful V-6 engine roared in response and she peeled across the intersection, tires squealing.

“Are you crazy?” Emelio braced one arm against the door handle and tightened his seat belt. He held his breath until they shot past the delivery van barreling toward his side of the car. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Staring straight ahead, Stevie answered him through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to lose the bad guy.”

He rolled his eyes, unsure whether to laugh or pray. But a glance in the side-view mirror confirmed that the beige sedan had dodged the car in front of it and run the red light. Mierda! Thanks to Braga, and the wild woman beside him, he was going to end up a big smear on the pavement.

He turned his head to look at Stevie in case she was the last thing he ever saw. Her color was high and a daredevil grin split her face as she gripped the steering wheel in both hands and sped around a motorcycle. She was really loving this. And he was going to die.

“Hang a right onto First Street, then we’ll switch places so that I can drive.”

Stevie cut across to the far lane, downshifted and took the turn on two wheels. “I’m an expert at this, Emelio. I’ve been trained in high-speed, evasive and counterambush driving techniques.”

“Counter. Ambush. You’re kidding, right?” When he snickered, she shot him an offended glance.

She darted in and out between slower-moving cars. “No. I took a couple of classes with a former Secret Service agent. Graduated with honors, too.”

Of course she had. Out of nowhere, he wondered if she approached sex the same way. Just the thought of being on the receiving end of all that relentless enthusiasm got him hard. What the hell was going on? He’d never considered sleeping with her before. And he couldn’t consider it now.

Emelio checked the mirror again. “Damn, that beige sedan won’t let up.”

“No problem.” She slowed the car, as if stopping for another light, then whipped the steering wheel to the left and raced along East Flagler Street. “I’m serious about doing fieldwork, Emelio. I’m ready.”

“Can we talk about this later?” He closed his eyes and waited for the impact when she tried to pass the freight truck in front of them.

“I’ve studied martial arts, explosives recognition, tactical firearms and hostage survival skills.”

“We’re private investigators, Stevie, not the Navy SEALs.”

“Just know, I’m not giving up on this. I’m tired of sitting behind a desk designing alarm systems.”

“Later.” His heart leaped into his throat as she made a hard right around a minivan and careened onto Second Avenue.

“Listen, I’m more than qualified for the job—”

“Watch out!” He had to yell over the blare of honking horns. “Didn’t any of those classes teach you how to read a One Way sign?”

She managed to evade the oncoming cars and got off on Fourth Street. From behind them, Emelio heard the squeal of brakes followed by the crunch of metal against metal. He looked back to confirm the beige sedan was no longer behind them.

“Hoo yah!”

He turned at Stevie’s victory shout, not surprised to see her triumphant grin. Her cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes alive with excitement, and he imagined she’d wear that same expression after a few hours in bed. Looking at her, he wasn’t sure if the rush he felt was adrenaline or attraction. Either way he wanted to reach over and kiss her, long and hard.

Stevie finally slowed down to the posted speed limit, but his heart beat an unsteady tattoo and his right hand still had a death grip on the door handle. He ought to flay her alive for taking ten years off his life, then have her committed to the nearest asylum.

Instead, he answered her proud grin with a quirk of his eyebrow. “So. What other classes have you taken?”

THE DOOR WASN’T LOCKED.

Stevie stared at the entry to her apartment in numb confusion. Why wasn’t the door closed all the way? She was sure she’d yanked it shut this morning—the door always stuck and that was the only way to get the lock to engage.

“Stay here.”

Emelio nudged her aside and reached out to gently push the door wider. It swayed open enough to let him slip through. She watched him crouch down before moving along the hall to check the other rooms.

Stevie followed as far as the living room, then jerked to a sickened halt. Everything she owned was strewn across the floor.

The love seat and chairs had been upended; the cushions slashed open to spill fluffy white filling onto the carpet. Her framed prints had been knocked from the walls. Sunlight from the now bare windows reflected off the plastic CD cases scattered about, and her collection of romantic suspense novels and mysteries had been swept off the shelves.