Stolen Heat Part 15

"I'm outta here."

Panic set in. "Wait. Pete, let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. You just told me everything I need to know." He jerked the door open and left.

Kat stood in the middle of her living room as his receding footsteps pounded on the steps in the hall. A sick feeling settled in her stomach as her heart hammered against her ribs.

What had she just done? She'd let her aggravation over the scene with Marty, her fear over where her relationship with Pete was headed and her worries over everything happening at the tomb sway what she knew about Pete deep in her heart.

The hundreds of ways he'd loved her over the past six months flashed before her eyes, the whispered promises late at night and the tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her. Her heart cracked wide open.

She loved him. If she hadn't known it before, she knew it now. She loved him, and she was losing him.

She tore out of the apartment and down the stairs. Her hands shook as she pushed the heavy front door to the building open and paused on the top step, breathing heavily, searching up and down the sweltering street for him. Please don't let him be gone yet. Please don't let him be gone yet.

She couldn't see him. A Muslim family crossed in front of her building. A garbage truck burped out exhaust as it ambled down the street. A man sped by on a bike.

Where was he? Please G.o.d... Please G.o.d...

Then she spotted him, a block up with his bag over his shoulder and his head down, striding away from her.

"Pete!"

He turned sharply at the sound of her voice, and she didn't even hesitate. She threw herself into his arms, wrapped herself around him and held on tight.

"Don't go. Not like this. Please." A sob caught in her throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave."

He hesitated, and for a frightening moment she thought he was going to push her away. Then his bag hit the concrete, and his arms wrapped tight around her until his embrace squeezed the air out of her lungs.

"Dammit, Kit-Kat."

A tear slipped down her cheek as his mouth crushed over hers, hard and possessive and bruising in its demand. She returned the kiss with everything she had in her.

Somehow they made it back to her flat where they made love with an urgency that bordered on the violent. When it was over, they lay sweaty and breathless in the bed they'd shared so many times she'd lost track. But this time was different. Though they were skin to skin and his arms were around her, Kat felt the distance between them as wide as the ocean that normally separated their continents.

She closed her eyes and snuggled closer, trying to bridge the gap. "What are you thinking?"

Silence. Then, "I have to go soon."

Her heart pinched at the emptiness of his words. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she knew now wasn't the time. He wouldn't believe her. Not after what had happened earlier. She'd have to wait. But in the meantime, she'd show him.

She eased up on her elbows and looked down. He was staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. Slowly his gray eyes shifted her way, clouded with the same turmoil she felt.

"Not yet," she whispered as she leaned down and kissed him. Once. Twice. Drawing him into her mouth and deeper into her soul. Hoping he could feel what he meant to her with every beat of her heart.

His hands came up to frame her face, and his fingers slipped into her hair. "Not yet," he repeated against her mouth.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Present day Philadelphia

Pete's instincts went on high alert the closer they got to Philadelphia. He couldn't shake the feeling something about this meeting Slade had set up was wrong.

During the last few hours, Kat had sat stoically in the pa.s.senger seat of the midsized sedan he'd rented, staring out at the scenery as if she were a thousand miles away. Considering their last conversation at the rental lot, he figured maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. It gave him time to think about what was really important, like what the heck was about to go down next.

All he knew for certain was she was meeting with one of Slade's contacts. He a.s.sumed that meant CIA, though she hadn't said for certain. Most definitely it wasn't Slade, and he wasn't entirely sure if he should be ticked or relieved by that fact.

Questions about Slade lit off in his brain as he pulled to a stop in the Lincoln parking area of Fairmount Park and killed the engine. The sprawling 1400-acre park was full of leafless trees and dense underbrush. Ahead, abandoned play equipment sat like dinosaur bones in the brisk November breeze. Though no snow covered the ground here, the temperatures were near freezing, keeping even the most active kids indoors.

He glanced over his shoulder at the trees on the opposite end of the parking lot. They framed a pathway running up a gentle slope. He thought he could hear the rush of water over rock somewhere close. There were no other cars in the lot. No signs of life anywhere in the park.

That didn't exactly put him at ease.

Kat sat still, staring out at the play equipment. He took in her tense features and hard eyes and knew without even asking something was definitely off here. "What now?"

She checked her watch, and then her eyes swept the landscape. "He should be here anytime. He said to meet him near the bridge."

He caught her hand before she could open the door. "We'll go together."

For a second he thought he saw something like relief flash in her dark irises. "Okay."

He steeled himself against the stab of tenderness he felt for her, reminded himself what she'd done to him and refocused on the here and now. "Just stay close."

She nodded, and when he let go, she slid out of the car and reached for the parka she'd stuffed into the backseat.

They headed toward the path in silence. Pete scanned the trees for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing but branches swaying in the wind and the slight echo of traffic rushing by on the street two blocks over.

As they came over the rise, Kat's feet stilled. He looked toward the bridge that held her attention and noticed a figure standing deep enough in the shadows to prevent anyone from seeing his face.

Not Slade. Even Pete could tell that from this distance, and he hadn't seen the guy in six years. This man was built like a linebacker.

Kat took a step forward, but he caught her arm again, stopping her momentum. "How do you know you can trust this guy?"

The muscles in her upper arm tensed beneath his hand. "I...Marty knows him. He trusts him. That tells me he's secure."

That didn't rea.s.sure Pete any. "And what if Marty's Marty's wrong? Take a good look. Do you recognize this guy at all?" wrong? Take a good look. Do you recognize this guy at all?"

Her eyes narrowed on the man pacing slowly across the footbridge. His hair was slightly gray, but his face was hidden in the shadows. He stopped and looked in their direction.

So much for blending. They'd been spotted.

"No," she said warily. "But I don't think I would. He's retired."

"Retired what?"

"CIA."

"You're sure?"

She hesitated just long enough to tell him she wasn't entirely sure of anything. And that little piece of news kicked his nerves up a level. He reached back with his free hand to adjust the gun at the small of his back. "Stay close to me."

"I thought this was what you wanted. In a few minutes you'll be rid of me for good." Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, and a muscle in her cheek twitched like her nerves were in high gear.

Well, that made two of them. His had been on overload since he'd awoken in Slade's garage and found her alive. And the last few hours with her in the car had been enough. He'd remembered too much, been aware of too much, and the way his body still heated up in reaction to hers p.i.s.sed him off to no end. The smartest thing he could do was get the h.e.l.l away from her before he did something really stupid. Like shook her until she screamed.

Or kissed her until he did.

He beat back a temper that seemed to be building from nowhere. "That is is what I want. I'm just hoping like h.e.l.l we don't get caught in a crossfire because your boyfriend set us up." what I want. I'm just hoping like h.e.l.l we don't get caught in a crossfire because your boyfriend set us up."

He let go of her arm and took a step around her.

"He's not my boyfriend," she said behind him.

"Yeah, you said that once before," he mumbled. When he'd been stupid enough to believe everything she told him.

Her shoes shuffled along the path at his back. "And I was telling you the truth. Then and now."

"You'll understand if I don't jump for joy at that news." Jesus, how the h.e.l.l had he let the conversation take this side trip into insanity? They should both be focused on the meet-and-greet that was about to take place.

"Marty's not my boyfriend," she said again as if saying it enough would prove a point he knew was a lie. "He hasn't been since before you and I were together."

"You said a lot of things, Kat. And look how many of those turned out to be true."

"If I lied to you, it was for a very good reason. Someday, maybe, you'll understand."

That did it. He stopped, wheeled around and faced her. She nearly ran into him before slamming on her own brakes and stopping mere inches from his chest.

"Lay it on me. Gimme your good reasons for f.u.c.king my life up, not only once but twice. I'm all ears."

"I did it for..." Her eyes drifted from his face to his chest, her expression one of utter regret and extreme hurt.

And oh, yeah. His chest tightened as he stood there watching her. He could kiss her senseless. Dive right in, not bother to come up for air. Overwhelm the both of them so neither remembered what the h.e.l.l they were arguing about in the first place.

But then he'd be in an even worse place than he was now. He was smart enough to know getting away from her here was the only way he was going to save himself.

"You know what?" he said, trying to get a handle on the conflicting emotions racing through him. "Everyone's got reasons for what they do. You got yours and they make sense? Good for you. Everything you did got you here, didn't it? So you tell me, Kat. Isn't this where you want to be?"

She stared at him. Long and hard, battling some internal war she'd never share with him. He waited for her answer, felt she was on the verge of telling him something he might need to hear, but then her eyes dropped from his, and she nodded slowly. "Yeah. Everyone's got reasons. And you're right, Pete. This is the only place I can be."

He felt like she'd just sucker punched him in the stomach. But he wasn't surprised. It wasn't like he expected her to confide in him after everything that had gone down between them.

And it wasn't like he'd even know what to do if she did.

She started walking, and with no other choice, he followed.

As they approached the bridge, the man stepped out of the shadows. "Katherine Meyer?"

They stopped at the end of the bridge. Pete shoved his emotions into a lockbox and turned the key so he could focus. He kept his arms at his sides in case he needed to grab his gun. Kat glanced his way briefly, then looked back toward the man. "Yes."

The man stepped into the light. He was easily fifty years old, but in superb physical shape for his age. "David Halloway. You probably don't remember me, but we met briefly once. In Cairo."

Her brow dropped as she thought back, but Pete could tell no recognition flared in her eyes. "No, I don't remember you."

He shrugged a little. "Not a surprise. I have one of those faces that tends to get lost in a crowd."

"Good feature for a spook to have," Pete interjected.

Halloway looked his way. "And you are?"

"Peter Kauffman."

Halloway studied him, and like wheels clicking into motion, recognition dawned in his eyes. "I thought you looked familiar. Your dossier came across my desk more than once."

He had a dossier? Fabulous. Fabulous. His day was just getting better by the minute. His day was just getting better by the minute.

"And for the record," he continued, "I'm not a spook."

Pete glanced at Kat and back again. "You're not CIA?"

Halloway shook his head. "Retired FBI. I worked with the Art Theft Crime Team near the end of my career."

"So how do you know Marty?" Kat asked.

"We worked together on a few cases. Interagency cooperation. Art theft and antiquities smuggling tend to be international affairs. I spent my fair share of time overseas."

"What do you know about Busir?" she asked. "And this man Minyawi you said was with him."

He focused in on her, and his expression went from conversational to serious in the s.p.a.ce of a nanosecond. "More than you want to know. Busir's small time, really. A middleman, nothing more. Does what he's told for a price. The fact he's working with Minyawi is more interesting.

"Now Minyawi," he went on, "he's a catch, that one. Is on the wanted list in several countries because of what could be described as less than humanitarian methods of obtaining information. Man's been on a killing spree for nearly five years. Rose in the ranks of his group like wildfire spreads across a dry valley. He's careful, goal-oriented and smart. And I've never heard of a single person who's given him the slip. Which makes me wonder what's so important about you that he would take the time to track you down. Either you're the smartest hit he's ever had, or you've got the luck of the Irish on your side, girlie."

Kat tensed.

"You know something about someone Minyawi's indebted to," Halloway added. "Or afraid of. That makes you priority number one for him. Enough to get him to risk coming into the U.S., which is something he's steered clear of until now."

Kat didn't answer, but her expression confirmed Halloway's words. Pete's eyes narrowed as he watched her. Just what did she know? And how high did this run to have both CIA and FBI involved with her case? He wasn't naive enough to think she was anything more to the government than a p.a.w.n in a very large chess match.

"Of course," Halloway said when it was clear she wasn't going to answer, "doesn't really matter to me. All I care about is bringing him in."

"Why you?" Pete asked Halloway. "If you're retired, why did Slade call you?"