On Fire(47)

"I don't think so." "A free room and a willing woman. Life could be worse."

She punched his arm.

"St. Joe, you've been waiting for years for me to walk back into your  life. You need a man who doesn't tiptoe around that big mouth of yours."

"You didn't walk back in, Straker. You barreled in."

He squeezed her hand.

"Sexier that way."

When they reached her apartment, he made no pretenses, just scooped her  up and carried her back to her bedroom caveman style, smothered her  laughter with a breathtaking, spine-melting kiss. He was indeed, she  thought, an intensely physical man, with an enthusiasm for sex that was  staggering, that made her feel as if he would never get enough of her.

They had a cycle going. The more he wanted her, the more she wanted him;  the more she wanted him, the more he wanted her. On and on it went,  until the cycle fell in on itself and they couldn't stop, couldn't  breathe, couldn't imagine release.

And when it happened, when release came, it wasn't gentle, or slow, or  easy, but soul penetrating, washing over them in great, searing waves,  as if it had a logic and a will of its own, one that bypassed all  careful reasoning, all knowledge, all common sense.

"I can't fall in love with you," she whispered, drawing the blankets up over them as she settled against his shoulder.

He slid his hand over the curve of her hip, moved lower, eased his fingers between her legs.

"Of course you can't. Falling's not your style."

And his mouth found hers, his tongue probing with the same erotic rhythm as his fingers, beginning the cycle again.

"What's your style?" she asked as he kissed her throat, took a nipple between his lips.

"I'm better at action than words."

He raised up off her and eased his fingers away, then entered with a  deep, hard thrust that made her cry out with its intensity. He didn't  follow with another, but stayed in her, caught up her hand in his and  locked eyes with her. A man of action. A man of great physical needs.

He was asking her not to fall, but to take control, to choose.

"Again," she breathed.

"Don't stop."

"As if I could," he said, thrusting harder, deeper.

Much later, she slipped out of bed, pulled on a bathrobe and went into  the living room. She turned on a light and sat on the futon with a  clipboard and a pencil, drew a line down the middle of a yellow pad.

On the left, she jotted everything she knew to be a fact. On the right, she jotted everything else.

When she finished, her hands were shaking and she was fighting tears.

There was more under the 'everything else" column. None of it looked good for Emile.                       
       
           



       

Straker came and sat beside her. He'd put on jeans, nothing else. He took her clipboard, examined it.

"Not bad. You'd make it through Quantico."

"I'm afraid for Emile," she said.

"He's always believed in destiny, fate. That's how he could take on so  much for so many years, without fear. He's never been able to look over  his shoulder and see his enemies coming. And Matt" -She gulped for air.

"I'm afraid for him, too. He's in over his head, isn't he?"

Straker was expressionless. "He should tell the police what he knows.

Bow out and let them do their job."

"Sig couldn't stand to lose him. Straker, she's pregnant, she can't"

"She knows all the risks." He laid Riley's clipboard on top of a stack of magazines.

"Sig might be a free spirit instead of a scientist, but she's no one's fool."

Riley stared at her columns of facts, rumors, musings, suppositions.

"Bennett Granger came aboard the Encounter at the last minute. I wrote  that down under facts. I don't know if it makes any difference--I just  jotted down stuff as it came to mind."

"Why the last minute?"

"Spur of the moment, he said. He did that sort of thing from time to  time. This wasn't one of Emile's big research expeditions--we were just  going out for a few days to test an experimental submersible. My own  reasons for being aboard were tangential." She swallowed, barely able to  continue. "Do you suppose whoever sabotaged the Encounter would have  done it if they'd realized Bennett was aboard?"

"It's something to consider." Straker's tone was professional, unemotional.

She shivered, suddenly cold.

"I don't know how you do this kind of work for a living."

"Because it's necessary."

She nodded. "If this was your case" -- "It's not my case. I haven't been  treating it as my case. I'm Emile's friend. I'm your friend. I told you  right from the beginning I'm not acting in a professional capacity." He  managed a quick smile.

"Which is a good thing. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to sleep with you, and that wouldn't be any fun."

She smiled, feeling less cold.

"Thank you."

"It's easy to be reassuring in the middle of the night. In the cold light of day..." He got to his feet, touched her hair.

"We'll take another look at your list in the morning."

Fifteen -^ @^~

Otraker listened to Riley explain her plan of action-or, more  accurately, inaction--as he drove her into Boston in the morning. With  her leather tote on her lap and wearing a crisp white shirt and black  pants, she was ready to spend the day as director of recovery and  rehabilitation for the Boston Center for Oceanographic Research. Henry  Armistead, she said, would just have to put up with her.

"I'm going to try to sit tight," she said.

"I think it's important to give the authorities a chance to pick apart  Sam's movements in the past few weeks and get on with finding out how he  died, who's framing Emile and setting fires."

Straker had his doubts about Riley St. Joe ever sitting tight, but he kept silent.

"I suppose answers would be easier to come by if my damned grandfather  and brother-in-law quit their cloak-and-dagger games and talked to  investigators." She inhaled, her frustration with them palpable.

"But I understand. I was aboard the Encounter, Straker. If I were in  Matt's or Emile's place, I'd probably do what they're doing.

"

"You haven't been much better," he pointed out.

"It's going to be a close call whether they end up with charges against them."

Her arms tensed, and her eyes darkened a fraction. A week ago he might  not have noticed. Now he noticed everything she did. Which, he knew,  would be of no comfort to her whatsoever. She said, "Emile won't care.

Matt. " She inhaled.

"He's probably never even had a parking ticket.

But he can afford a good lawyer. "

Straker shook his head.

"Yep. You're going to sit tight." His tone was laced with sarcasm and amusement at how un self-aware she could be.

"You'll start to twitch the minute someone hands you a report on the  skin problems of a moray eel and you realize this is it, no bad guys to  root out."

"I like my work."                       
       
           



       

"So?"

She shot him a stubborn look.

"So what?"

"So I give you thirty minutes before you start climbing the walls."

"You're not going to give me anything. You're going to leave me alone.

Got it, Straker? I mean it. Henry still has you down as a stalker, you know. "

He smiled.

"Is that a threat?"

"It's bad enough I'm showing up today. If you show up, too, he'll have a  fit. And I don't blame him. Caroline's round of parties on Mount Desert  was supposed to signal a new beginning for the center--the end of our  year of mourning the Encounter and the five lost."

"Then Sam turns up dead."

She winced, staring out the open window. It was a cool, beautiful morning.

"I didn't mean to sound hard-hearted. Sam had his down side, but he  didn't deserve" -She stopped, and Straker knew she was seeing the body  on the rocks.

"He didn't deserve to be murdered."

Straker negotiated the maze of Big Dig detours and the city traffic, and  was struck by the normalcy of something as simple as dropping Riley St.  Joe off at work.

"I need to let everything simmer," she went on, almost absently.

"Sig does that. She's convinced that abandoning a problem for a while is the best way to solve it."

"I thought you were giving the authorities a chance."

"I am. But if I come up with any answers, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing if you call them first and don't go off halfcocked."

She scowled.

"Typical FBI agent. You don't trust anyone."

"I don't trust you. You get a lead on Emile, you'll be out of there."

"Well, fine. What are your plans for the day?"

"I thought I'd pay your sister a visit."

Riley nodded, obviously concurring with the idea.

"I plan to call her after I get in. She's so unhappy. Are you shifting your focus from Emile to Matt?"