Soldier For Hire. Kimberly Meter Van

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СКАЧАТЬ enough. So let’s just get to brass tacks... Why would someone want to frame you for McQuarry’s death?”

      Xander wished he knew. Unfortunately, the list of people who might hate him was probably longer than the list of people who would throw some water on him if he were on fire. A sergeant had once told him, You got a way of pissing people off, and he hadn’t been wrong.

      “I don’t know,” he answered, navigating downtown Tulsa traffic. “But I aim to find out and when I find the bastard, I’m going to show him the error of his ways.”

      “What makes you think it was a man?” Scarlett retorted and Xander had to admit, it could be a woman screwing him over. “Got any disgruntled lovers?”

      “Do I know of any woman pissed off enough to kill innocent people just so I would take the fall? No. Contrary to what you may think... I’m not an asshole to everyone I come into contact with.”

      Scarlett chuckled. “Okay, well, someone wants you to take the fall and we better find out who and fast. So what’s the plan?”

      “First, I need to find out who hated McQuarry enough to want him dead. That’ll give me a direction to head in. I figure the best way to find out the skinny on a politician is to ask the press.”

      “You can’t talk to the press,” Scarlett protested, flabbergasted at his idea. “Word has probably already spread that you’re on the run and you’d make a juicy story. No, forget it. No press.”

      “Look, everything you just said is probably true but journalists have a way of sniffing out the dirt faster than anyone can. I don’t have the luxury of asking around myself. I need a shortcut to information—which means asking a reporter who was familiar with McQuarry and his work.”

      Xander knew he’d made his point when Scarlett buttoned her lip, even though she still wasn’t happy. “Fine,” she bit out, her scowl darkening. “But we’re not just going to walk into the Tulsa World office, bold as you please, and start asking questions. We should meet somewhere private and you should wear a disguise.”

      He barked a short laugh. “A disguise? Like a hat or something? Or maybe a Rastafarian wig?”

      “I’m being serious, Xander. My ass is on the line, too. You shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.”

      Xander knew she was probably right but he didn’t want to wear a disguise. “I’ll swap my ball cap for a cowboy hat,” he said. “Does that work for you?”

      “How have you lived this long?” Scarlett grumbled in irritation. “You’re just bound and determined to do things all your way, aren’t you?”

      “Sorry, darlin’, that’s just how I roll.”

      “Oh, shut up and don’t call me darlin’. I might not be your TL right now but I’m not your sugar-tits, either.”

      His brow climbed and there was no mistaking where both their minds went.

       That night.

      Did she have to bring up her breasts? Like it wasn’t hard enough already to forget how it felt to have those dusky rose nipples pearled in his mouth. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell her that. She was likely to turn him from a rooster to a hen just for bringing up the subject they’d both agreed to forget ever happened.

      But funny thing about that... He couldn’t seem to honor his end of the deal.

      That night with Scarlett was all he thought about in private moments.

      Judging by the warning in her expression, Scarlett wasn’t interested in a repeat of that night. More’s the pity. He could use the tension relief of a good orgasm, and so could Scarlett if that pucker between her brows was any indication of her stress level.

      “Since I can’t stop you from being completely reckless, why don’t we just book a hotel at the Ritz and see if we can get our mugs on the evening news for fun?”

      “Now you’re just being sarcastic, which I can appreciate, but I’ve already got lodgings figured out. You’ll be happy to hear that I already had a motel picked out that’s off the beaten path, as you suggested.”

      Scarlett nodded with silent relief. He wasn’t a complete idiot nor was he trying to take unnecessary risks, as she put it, but he knew in his gut that talking to a journalist was the right way to get fast answers.

      If nothing else, it would give them a direction to go in.

      He knew Scarlett was probably grinding her teeth at taking marching orders from him but that was too bad.

      This was his rodeo, not hers, and they were going to do things his way.

      There was something hot about the way Xander took control but being the TL was too ingrained in her blood to take a back seat without chafing.

      She still thought he was being stupid talking to the press but that could pan out with a lead so she stopped raising a ruckus about it. He was right in that they needed leads—fast—and sometimes big gains required bigger risks.

      True to his word, they drove to a motel in an older part of the city, not quite as maintained and definitely not on anybody’s radar.

      In short, it was a roach motel.

      “This meet with your satisfaction?” Xander asked, smiling as he shouldered his duffel bag. “I don’t even think they have Wi-Fi in the room.”

      Scarlett chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t gloat. It’s not attractive.”

      “Is that where I’ve been going wrong all these years?”

      “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure.”

      “Dating tips from my TL. I’m sure there’s a cautionary tale in there somewhere.”

      They checked in under assumed names, Xander paid cash and they found their room. Xander did a perimeter check, they mapped exits and set up an escape plan in case they were spotted by anyone feeling adventurous enough to turn Xander in.

      The room wasn’t winning any awards anytime soon.

      One big bed covered in a 1970s-era-paisley-printed comforter dominated the small room and a small round table with two rickety chairs was pushed against the grimy window. Cobwebs dressed the corners—housekeeping could use a pointer or two—and the floor was stained with various spots of dubious nature.

      Oh, yeah, this was a shithole.

      Perfect.

      “This is the place where dreams go to die,” Scarlett said, the corner of her mouth lifting. “How’d you find it?”

      “I just Googled one-star hotels in Tulsa. This gem popped up. I have to be honest, it was between the Nesting Hen Motel and The Flycatcher Inn. Naturally, I went with The Flycatcher Inn because the flycatcher is the Oklahoma state bird. Seemed appropriate.”

      She didn’t want to laugh. Nothing about their situation was remotely funny but her insides tickled at the absurdity of Xander’s СКАЧАТЬ