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NCS Special Agent Randall was necessarily helpless on a normal day unless she'd
pulled a trick, a ruse, a set-up. Nah, probably not a set-up, not with the crash, the real bruises
around her neck, the real concussion. And the edge of fear in her eyes that she covered so
skillfully. He told her the unvarnished truth someone tried to kill her. He and Lucian
interrupted the hit.
Confusing emotions were roiling around in his brain, and he did not do
confusion well. Nor emotions. He had experienced, first hand, what living with a career
Marine could do to a beautiful, vibrant woman. Too young to remember the gorgeous
Rita Hayworth, Adam had checked out the actress on the Internet and immediately
realized why everyone referred to his mother, Eva, as Rita Hayworth. From the time he
was about ten, he remembered her as a silent, colorless woman who hung on his
father's every word and action. Young Adam had been sure that his father loved his
mother, but even then he had sensed his father's drive: Matt Stone had a job to do.
Adam learned that not every woman was cut out to be the wife of a career Marine. And
a Marine sniper, at that.
Everything in Adam's life marched in order, clear and concise, cut and dried. But
that woman, that Special Agent his body reacted to her, every time she spoke, every
time she moved. His heart pumped harder, his pulse quickened. She didn't even need
to be in the same room. He knew what she was doing, even when she was out of his
sight. The image of Lorelei stretched out in his bed, the thought of her being naked in
his shower, of soaping up her smooth skin . . . . His cock stiffened immediately. Maybe
he should bite the bullet and go to her. Make the first move for once. Take her in his
arms.
Shit. Why had Lucian come back now! Shit. Shit. Shit.
* * * * *
Lucian arrived bearing gifts in fancy bags. Loads of fancy bags, and even a
couple of boxes.
After appreciating Lucian's amazing taste in women's clothing he reminded her
that he had four sisters Lorelei added her vote to a simple late supper of
cheeseburgers and baked French fries.
"Luce, more evidence to support our hit man theory." Adam chugged down half
a bottle of birch beer. "The finger pad marks appear distinct, but they don't line up. I'm
not the techno-geek." He motioned to Lorelei. She stopped dragging a French fry
through a blob of ketchup. Wordlessly, she tied her hair back again, and stretched the
neckline of her shirt.
Lucian examined the bruises. "Hmm. I can give it a try. Lorelei, hon, are you up
for it?"
Staring at her plate, she shrugged. What else can they possibly find out?
Lucian scaled the stairs, two at a time. He returned in a few moments with his
tech kit and a laptop. He worked quickly and efficiently, the new scanning program
automatically sending the images. He repacked the kit, placed everything on a step,
then returned to the table. Ignoring his food, he appeared to be somewhere in Oz for a
few moments.
"Lorelei, would you stand up again? Let me try something."
Might as well. She stood, and pulled her hair aside.
Instead of approaching her head on, Lucian surprised her by moving to her back.
"Hoss, check out my finger placement."
"No shit." Adam retrieved the digital camera from the stairs. "Do it again."
Lucian placed his hands in a chokehold from behind Lorelei. "Well?"
"That's it." Adam took photos as Lucian pantomimed various chokeholds.
"Smaller fingers, probably smaller hands."
Lorelei returned to her seat. "Not for nothing, guys, but it's my neck. Care to
share before I get cranky?"
"Adam noticed inconsistencies in the finger pattern, but we couldn't figure out
what it meant. Well, we couldn't get you out of the vehicle by the normal route we
had to lay the seats down and pull you from behind. I'll bet someone tried to choke you
from the back seat, around the headrest. Much tougher to do unless one uses a garrote.
Bad angle, much more strength needed to either snap your neck or strangle you."
Lorelei stopped playing with her food. She felt her gut ramp up from calm to
highly annoyed. "Damn it, why can't I remember what happened? Who did this?"
"It's the concussion, hon. Everything will come back to you. Why don't you go on
to bed," Lucian said, his tone kind, soft. "There's nothing else to be done here. If any
news surfaces, I promise to wake you. Go to bed, get some sleep."
Adam leaned forward, with his elbows on the table. "Unless you happen to
miraculously remember something that might actually prove useful, Princess. Anything
constructive would help."
Adam's gruff voice and sarcastic words knocked Lorelei off her emotional pins.
She thought they had at least reached some sort of truce before Lucian's return. And why
the hell should I care? The issue clarified: she had an assignment, and they were
interfering. She needed to check in with Bellisario, her real boss. But how? He'll be
apoplectic by now. Her head pounded again. She didn't feel strong enough to take Adam
on in verbal combat.
"Look, I know I disrupted your lives, and I'm beyond grateful for everything you
guys did. I'd still be trapped in the wreck if you hadn't found me. Probably dead. There
are no words to thank you enough. I think it would be best if I contact Sheriff MacBride
in the morning to see if he can arrange alternate lodging until I can catch a ride to D.C."
Lorelei nodded good night to Lucian, included Adam and left the kitchen.
* * * * *
Lucian gave Lorelei enough time to reach the second floor, listened until he
heard the faint sound of her bedroom door close. His smile and his happy-go-lucky
surfer dude persona disappeared in half a heartbeat as he turned on Adam. "What the
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