Without looking around, she said, “I’m coming.”

She had changed out of the pants suit into a pair of black jeans, a button-up white shirt, and sneakers. She was bent over the bed, zipping up a duffel. When done, she turned around and, seeing Shaw, drew up tall, her eyes narrowing with animosity. She pulled the duffel off the bed and walked to where he stood against the door.

“Get out of my way.”

“I had to make you believe it, Jordie.”

“I said, get out of my way.”

“There were times I hated myself for—”

“Then that makes two of us.”

“Other times I hated you for making objectivity impossible.”

“Oh, that’s pretty. Be sure to write it down so you don’t forget it. You can use it to manipulate your next hostage. That is, after you run out of cute innuendos, half truths, flat-out lies, and assorted other scare tactics.” She made to go around him, but he sidestepped and blocked her.

“Not all of it was manipulation and lies.”

She huffed a laugh. “Nothing you say will ever make me believe that.”

“Good. I’m tired of talking.”

He cupped her face between his hands, pushed his fingers up into her hair, and held her head in place as he turned them so that her back was to the door.

She went rigid. “If you don’t get your hands off me, I’ll yell this bloody place down.”

He lowered his face close to hers. “When I was lying there with that propeller sticking out of my gut, you didn’t run. You didn’t escape. Why not?”

“If I had it to do over—”

“You do. Here. Right now. You can yell this bloody place down. But I think that if you wanted to, you would have already.” His whisked his mouth across hers.

“Don’t.”

She tried to turn her head aside, but he held it fast between his hands and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Stop it. I mean it, Shaw. I don’t want this.”

“No, you don’t want to want it. Big difference.”

Then he angled her head and kissed her the way he’d imagined, the way his drugged mind had fantasized it, the way he’d craved to from the first time he got a good look at her face.

He didn’t care how many ethics codes he was violating, or how many federal agents were in the next room, or—God forgive him—if Billy Panella himself was on the other side of this door, unless she put words into action and stopped him, he was going to get carnal with her mouth. He was going to mate with it for as long as she and time allowed.

She didn’t stop him. When he pressed his tongue into her mouth, it met with no resistence. After a slow dance with hers, he withdrew it just far enough to touch the tip of it to the center of her upper lip, just inside, just barely a flick. It was so blatantly erotic that her breaths started coming as hard and fast as his. Wanting more, he sent his tongue deep again.

She let go of the duffel bag. It dropped softly onto the toe of his boot. He pushed it aside, inched closer to Jordie and leaned into her, making adjustments in alignment that fit them together like puzzle pieces and caused her breath to catch. He hated the damn bulletproof vest that shielded her breasts from the pressure of his chest.

Her hand came up between them. She ran her thumb across the scar on his chin, then scraped it lightly with her teeth. He took a love bite of her wet, plump lower lip. Then they were kissing again, frantically. Maybe it was the mad recklessness of this whole thing that made it so goddamn good.

But he thought it was more the woman than the circumstances that had him about to combust.

He slid one hand down her front, pausing to grind the heel of it against where he approximated her nipple would be, before moving it lower, pushing it between her thighs and caressing her there. She gasped and arched into his gently massaging hand.

Lifting his face away from hers, he whispered roughly, “I’m going to have you, Jordie.”

Her eyes were still angry, but now also lambent with arousal as she stared into his.

“You know it as well as I do, don’t you?”

Slowly, she nodded.

A knock sounded on the door. “Ms. Bennett?” Hickam said.

Shaw squeezed her lightly before withdrawing his hand. He backed away from her then nudged her aside and opened the door. “She’s ready.”

Before Hick left the suite, Joe reviewed some last-minute details with him. “Got your earpiece in?”

Hick tapped his ear.

“Keep it open. I’ll advise when we get on the elevator.”

“The spare car is parked across the street and about half a block down from the entrance to the garage.” Hick held up the key fob that another agent had delivered to the hotel earlier. “Soon as the SUVs clear the garage, I’ll wheel in there.” He looked over at Shaw Kinnard, who was munching an apple. “When you sent me to fetch Ms. Bennett, he was in the bedroom with her. He opened the door. Steam escaped.”

Before Joe could remark on that, Kinnard approached them. “Sure you don’t want my help?”

“We got it.” Hick lifted the maroon hoodie from off a chair and passed it to him. “Don’t forget this. You don’t want to be recognized and apprehended as you roam the streets tonight.”

Kinnard made his opinion of the blankety-blank fleece furnace clear, but, anchoring the apple between his teeth, he pulled it on.

Hick left, taking the ladies’ bags to stow in the trunk. The marshals went with him to take up their positions in the parking garage.

Kinnard finished his apple and tossed the core into a trash can. “Guess I should shove off.”

“Transportation?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

Joe had no doubt of that.

Kinnard didn’t say good-bye to Jordie but paused at the door of the suite and shot her a telling look before going out. Joe pretended not to notice and walked over to her. “All set, Ms. Bennett?”

“Did you tell him about Costa Rica?”

“Who, Kinnard?”

“Did you?”

“He needed to know, especially now that it appears Panella isn’t in a distant land after all.” He paused, then asked, “Are you afraid he’ll retaliate?”

“He can’t. He’s a federal agent.”

Joe waited a second then said drily, “I was referring to Panella.”

“Oh.”

While the egg was still congealing on Jordie’s face, Gwen, who’d been on her cell phone, quickly clicked off. “They’re ready downstairs.”

The three of them left the suite and walked along the corridor to the elevator that provided hotel guests direct access to the parking garage. Joe, speaking into the mike on his lapel, communicated to all officers involved that they were on their way.

No one said anything as they rode the elevator down, but Joe covertly studied Jordie’s reflection in the brass door. Her expression was thoughtful, her brow slightly furrowed. He wondered what, exactly, had made her so contemplative.

Maybe it was concern over Kinnard knowing about her romantic getaway with Panella, whom he had sworn to either put away or blow away. Meanwhile, she and Kinnard were steaming up bedrooms. Strange dynamics for a budding romance.