Page 5 of Baby One Last Time
I didn’t get to ask any more questions because he pressed his lips to mine and his hands slid further up my thighs and I remembered I wasn’t wearing any panties. Maybe we could, after all. Maybe just one last time. He deepened the kiss and had me rethinking ever wearing underwear again when a noise came from the bedroom.
“Hold that thought,” he said for the second time that day, then stepped away from me.
He pulled a syringe and medicine bottle from the same leather bag where he’d stashed the flamingo repair kit. “Sounds like Santa needs another dose of Christmas joy.”
“There wasn’t enough tranquilizer in that dart to knock him out for more than an hour?”
Derek tapped the syringe to expel the air bubbles. “They have us using lower doses these days. Seems somebody triple-tranqued a foreign attaché and knocked him out for thirteen hours. Nearly caused an international incident, if memory serves.”
Geez, office gossip. For a clandestine operation, HEAT sure was chock full of chatty Cathys. “Don’t believe everything you hear. It was only two darts, he wasn’t out a minute over twelve hours, and HEAT should add a training course on the additive effect of multiple doses.”
He laughed as he disappeared into the bedroom. When he re-emerged less than a minute later, his smile was gone. “Cleanup crew texted. They just pulled into the garage. Time for us to go.”
I didn’t realize how much I’d enjoyed the afternoon until faced with the prospect of it ending. “Well, shit. I was just getting used to you again.” Damn me. Why did I say that out loud?
“Likewise. But we have to finish our mission.”
My heart fluttered. Stupid, shameless heart. The few hours with Derek had cracked it open. Not to worry. With a few days and a couple of bottles of tequila, I’d seal it shut again.
“Wait, finish our mission?” I asked. “Aren’t we done, with Cleanup here to pick up Santa?”
“Not quite. Now we need to take care of his accomplice. She’ll know we’re onto her by now, since her contact missed their daily meeting.”
I jolted to attention. “Wait, daily meeting? At 2 p.m.?”
“Yes, in fact, that’s right.”
“And their meeting place is a beauty parlor.”
“Get that smart lady a prize. So, you ready to slip back into something less revealing and take down a kingpin masquerading as a nice, little old lady?”
“Still, Mrs. Leary? She really is nice. A little lonely. Talks about her late husband all the time.”
“Before you get too sentimental, you should know Gladys Leary is a cover name, and she’s never been married.”
Thank God. A mission, complete with a bad guy and permission to take her down. There were many self-destructive ways to get over a dose of Derek. One-night-stands with pretty boys. Bottomless mimosas. Bar fights with bikers. But being on the job, even if it was only for a few more hours, was the only way I could think of to channel my pent-up lust and misguided sentimentality into something useful.
I scooped up the flamingos, those annoying damned birds. She’d made me feel sorry, not only for her, but also for a bunch of kitschy lawn ornaments. Gladys Leary had committed to playing the part of grieving widow, I’d give her that. But I hated method actors. “Oh, that old biddy is going down.”
The plan was simple.Lure her outside to look at the flamingos. That would give the backup team time to neutralize the bodyguards inside the house, and me the opportunity to stab her in the neck with a hand dart. Easy-peasy.
Yes, Derek had lied about not having a team. But the adrenaline rush—well, rushes—he’d given me were almost enough to make me forgive him for that. Not for the flood of memories he’d awoken in me back in the hotel room, but who was I kidding? Those were always barely below the surface of my consciousness and broke through into my dreams at least three nights a week. Okay, maybe more like six. But I’d get over him again. I’d done it before. Mostly. Kind of.
I had one hand on his truck’s door handle and the other wrapped around the flamingos’ repaired necks when something important occurred to me, almost too late. Once again, distracted! “What about the decorating crew? I don’t want them getting caught in any crossfire. I mean, the backup team should—”
Derek furrowed his brow as I spoke, as though willing me to understand something.
It hit me. “The crewisthe team. TJ and the other guys are HEAT.”
“The smart lady gets another prize.”
Only if I get to choose it. Wisely, I kept that thought to myself. No need to embarrass myself any further with a man who’d chosen his career over our affair. Not that I could blame him. Much. Today had brought back to me what a blast that way of life had been.
I slid out of the truck and walked the half a block to Leary’s—or what’s-her-name’s—house. I waved at TJ as I came up the drive.
“Good to see you Sandy. You get those birds fixed?”
“Yes sir. I’m about to inflate them right now and show them to Mrs. Leary.”
