Chapter 8

Cripes!

Some son-of-a-biscuit baker had dropped her like a rock, and Joelle was pissed. She'd thought the murder-intending duo had left the scene, but one clearly still had to be under Mike's truck.

Joe was going to make the person pay; wish like helium they'd taken off. Whoever it was had started her chin bleeding profusely again, so she wasn't about to go lightly on the perp, even if it meant cuffing them and calling in the authorities. Having to explain herself to the local PD—without giving them her real name, of course—would require some finesse, but Joe made up her mind, quickly. She was done playing games. If it came down to it, she'd instruct whatever law enforcement cadre that arrived to contact the DEA's Portland office if they wanted more information. Which they wouldn't get. The agent in charge there would back her up as an official with them, without blowing her undercover status. She was sure of it.

Rolling quickly to her back, Joelle made ready to kick her attacker the minute they came out from under the truck.

She waited, and waited, and waited…

Joe gave a huff. Whoever was under the truck was chicken-shift to emerge, probably waiting for Joe to either take off or make the first move. Well scrub them. She'd do neither. Slowly and quietly extracting her firearm from her waistband, she sat up and placed her back against the truck next to Mike's.

She could wait this out.

Minutes ticked by before?—

"You might as well give up." A male voice stated from underneath the chassis. "I have back-up coming."

Yeah. Right.Since she now knew it was Cameron talking, that meant back-up would be none other than the pouty Melanie.

Joe was petrified. Not.

"You think I'm budging?" she questioned with a snort. "Think again. My advice to you? Inch out slowly if you know what's good for you," she countered. "I have a weapon trained on your sorry self, and if you decide not to cooperate, I'd hate to have to explain a firearms discharge to the authorities when they arrive."

"Wait. What?" The response held a modicum of astonishment.

Right.Because she'd just told she had a gun.

"You're a…female?"

Not the response she'd imagined.

"Last time I looked," Joe chuckled darkly. "Now do you want to move out slowly, or do I have to come in there and drag you out of your hidey-hole."

"Seriously?" the voice righted itself and scoffed. "You and what tactical unit?"

Joelle's returning laugh was real. She had no idea that dimwit Cameron was so funny. "You really want to test me? Find out what I'm capable of?"

There was a grunt. "Well, to be fair, I guess if I decide to engage, I should tie one hand behind my back."

"I see. So, you're delusional as well as criminal," Joe scoffed with humor. "Good to know."

As much as she was oddly enjoying the exchange, she was tired of waiting, and Drambuie, she needed to get some antiseptic on her still stinging cut before it became infected. "I'm counting to three, then I'm coming in for you. One…two…" Of course, she moved before she got to three, and?—

Jeeebus!

She leaped low as her target rolled right, their bodies colliding at the edge of the truck's frame. Joe ended up underneath the guy, and instinct kicked in. She slammed her attacker's head up onto the metal edge of the undercarriage, getting a loud growl in return for her effort. She also saw the man's arm cock back to bash her in the head, which she readied to counter when?—

"Fucking hell. It's you." A deep voice hissed from above her.

Joe turned her focus from the poised fist to the face hovering over hers, and…

"Cripeson a cadaver. Get the hell off me, Mike." Joelle dropped the gun still clutched in her hand, ramping her danger level down from nuclear retaliation, to Defcon four.

Mike narrowed his eyes at the tossed weapon, then lowered his fighting arm, but otherwise didn't move.

"How do you know my name?" he countered suspiciously, then inadvertently snorted. "And who moves on the count of two?"

Joelle relaxed, beginning to enjoy herself. Not only was the body she'd been dreaming about for two nights pinning her to the ground, she absolutely adored a man who could tease in the middle of a fight.

"You also went on two, apse-scroll," she pointed out.

He grinned, and all his lovely white teeth showed. "Apse-scroll?"

"It's a long story," Joe dismissed. "Now ‘fess up. why did you go on two?"

"Because that's what I've been taught to do," he replied, his tone reasonable.

"Me, too," Joelle confirmed, getting comfortable beneath the large, warm body, pinning her to the dirt. Wiggling a little as she settled in.

And…

Should she waste a perfectly good opportunity? There was only one answer.

Helix,no. She raised her hips where they were lodged under Mike's, and…bingo. Houston, we have interest. The man began launching an impressive stiffy.

"Shit. You're not playing fair," Mike rasped, but didn't move away.

"Don't let that worry you," Joelle replied, rolling her pelvis again. "I'm about to up the ante." Without wasting a moment thinking about whether it was right or wrong, Joe raised her head toward his and slammed her lips onto Mike's, moaning deep in her throat as he not only didn't back off, but leaned in and gave her as good as he was getting.

Yummm….

A first-class kisser.

His mouth wasn't too dry, it wasn't too wet, he tasted like candy and he worked his lips like a pro. He knew just when to nip, when to feint, and when to go in for the kill, using his tongue in a way that stole Joe's breath.

Yes.This was what she'd been fantasizing about from the moment she'd seen the man all hot and almost-sweaty at the gym. And speaking of sweaty, the man was currently emitting some…decidedly manly odors that meant he'd been working out. Hard. But instead of being repulsed, Joe was drawn to his au naturale musk, and once she disengaged from his mouth, her nose went questing to his neckline where she took a good long sniff.

"Mmm."

"You did not just smell me," Mike chortled, shaking his head.

Joelle lifted from her throat-hollow-heaven and stared up into his compelling, but slightly dazed chocolate brown eyes. "Seriously? I kiss you like a pro, and you want to talk about my inhalation habits?"

Mike laughed again. "Well… Come to think of it, I might need a second lip-lock to see if what I was feeling was a one and done, or not." Mike's eyes slowly uncrossed, and this time when his gaze dropped to her mouth, he scowled.

"Hey. You're chin's bleeding."

Joe blinked. She was…? Oh spit. She'd forgotten all about her chin.

Mike glowered and hauled himself off her, rising to his feet. "Did I do that?"

Sighing, Joe immediately missed his weight, but… She could always wrap a foot around his ankle to bring him back down…

No. He'd asked her a question and was demanding a response if his drawn brows were any indication. Without another word, he held a hand purposefully down toward her. She sighed, took it, and was easily brought vertical.

"It's nothing you did," she assured him, amazed that at five foot ten, she still had to look up a good four inches to meet his gaze.

"Oh really? You were fighting someone else this morning?"

"A tree root. But that's a boring story."

Mike let her go, then leaned back against his truck, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "I have time for boring."

Since Joe had previously decided to come semi-clean with any cops who might have shown up when she thought she was confronting Cameron, she decided to give Mike more info than just the earlier hiking travails she'd suffered. She could be equally as honest with Mike as she was going to be with the cops…without divulging her real name or who she worked for.

Joelle purposely cleared her throat. "Shall we start again, civilly?" she asked, sticking out her hand. "Hi. I'm…"

Dangblast-it. Her alias had gotten lost somewhere on her kiss-sated tongue. Joe grumbled to herself and began again. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Elle Picket."

Mike's eyes narrowed. "You're going with that?"

"I am," she told him succinctly, not making any pretense that the name wasn't real.

"Fine. Elle," he stressed her alias. "How about you answer a few other questions using a little more effort."

"I'll try to keep my creativity to a minimum," she told him with as straight a face as she could manage.

"Right." He also looked to be tamping back his amusement. "Here are my salient inquiries. For now." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Who the hell are you? How do you know me? Have you been stalking me? And are you responsible for the tracker on my truck and/or the cut brakes I just discovered?"

His face soured as he asked the last.

"Is that it?" Joe asked sassily.

"For a start," he clarified. "We'll get to the cut and the kiss if you answer to my satisfaction."

Joe couldn't help it. Her eyes traveled down his flak-jacketed chest, to the front of his SWAT issued pants where a significant bulge was still evident. "I'd say you're already pretty satisfied," she answered cheekily.

Mike shifted his stance and grunted. "We'll add my current condition to the second list if you behave. Right now, how about you throw me a few honest answers."

Yup.The man was astute. And that just added to his hotness.

Joe sighed. It was time to break the happy little bubble that had formed around them. "If you must know, you're in danger," she said.

Mike shook his head as if disappointed. "You want to try again?"

"Nope," Joelle was equally as stubborn as Mike was appearing to be, and decided he wasn't going to get another word in edgewise until she'd spit out an answer to all his initial concerns.

"I'm a server at the Local Moose, just west of Orono." And shpluck. She hadn't remembered to use the southern accent that went along with her fake persona. Joe gave an internal shrug. It probably wouldn't matter.

Mike went to say something, but Joe held up her hand and continued.

"Two nights ago…" Had it really been less than forty-eight hours since Joe had uncovered the plot to kill Mike? It seemed impossible. Since then, she'd tagged and stalked a bunch of people, and formed a crush on the man in front of her.

"…I was waiting tables when I overheard a man and a woman plotting to kill someone."

"Don't tell me." This time Mike blew out a disbelieving breath. "I was named as the target."

Joe hissed. "Listen buster. Do you want me to tell this, or do you want to continue being a jerk?" Dang-a-lang, the man could be tenacious, but Joelle found she actually liked the challenge he presented.

Instead of speaking, Mike acquiesced, making a "continue speaking" motion with his hand.

Smart man.

"I didn't know much about the pair doing the scheming, at first, but at the end of the night the woman gave me her credit card." Now Joelle got smug. "Does the name Melanie Carlese ring a bell?"

For a moment Mike looked shocked, then?—

"Fucking hell," he growled.

"Exactly," Joe concurred. "It turns out your ex-wife and her new boy-toy are making plans to put you ten feet under."

"For what purpose?" Mike snapped, clearly no longer in a teasing frame of mind. Still, she couldn't help but needle him.

"Because you, Mr. Dumb-asp, haven't changed your will or your life insurance policy since she walked out on your tushy over a year ago."

That finally shut the man up. He looked sheepish, then incredulous, and finally, once again, pissed off as all get out.

"Their planning murder because of…money?" he barked.

"Isn't that the motive of most every criminal these days? Money or passion? And Melanie clearly dried up regarding the second, where you're concerned." Joe wasn't sure how anyone in their right mind would choose Cameron over Mike. It didn't say much for the state of Melanie's gray matter.

Joe launched right into answering the rest of Mike's queries before he went totally ballistic. "After IDing our perps, I did a little research into who you are, found your pertinent info, then, yes, I tagged your vehicle and put the cameras up at your house in order to keep an eye on your safety. I also stuck a little go-bot on your ex's vehicle, and today, when I saw your position and theirs converging, I booked it here to hopefully derail your immediate demise."

"The brakes," Mike muttered.

"Yeah." She'd guessed right at what infrastructure would be messed with. "I figured it had to be your brakes they were targeting. Cameron didn't look bright enough to come up with anything more creative." Joe had to ask a question that had been eating at her. "But seriously dude? Why haven't you changed your paperwork yet?"

If Mike's anger was adorable as heck, his spiral into uncertainty had Joe wanting to wrap her arms around the man and comfort him. Clearly, he was floundering.

"I… I guess it just slipped my mind," he eventually ground out, then scrubbed a hand down his face, clearly thinking better of his answer. "Ah, hell. Truthfully?" He looked butt-hurt, but he persevered. "I've been avoiding anything that makes me think of her; of the divorce, and how easily I was betrayed by a woman I thought I knew so well."

Joelle understood. Sometimes it was easier to scoop uncomfortable poop into a locked litter-box in your brain instead of taking the fetid turds out and examining them.

Regardless, she gave Mike a mental noogie. "And now that you know? Will you see your lawyer ASAP and get things fixed?"

"Damn straight I will," Mike glowered before he focused on her again, his eyes narrowing.

Joelle wasn't stupid. It was clear Mike had finally deduced that she had, against all reason, been acting on her own to mitigate his possible murder instead of coming to him or going to the police. He was about to grill her on her motives…and who she really was.

"So Miss Smarty-pants, why didn't you?—"

"Hey, Mike. Is everything okay?" One of four men who were fast approaching, barked out.

Perfect timing.She and Mike were no longer alone; the quartet interrupting the would-be interrogation.

"Everything's fine, Cisco," Mike groused.

Joe knew the reprieve was only temporary. But she'd take it.

The man named Cisco blinked, then blinked again as he got his first real look at her. "Hey. Aren't you the woman from the gym yesterday?"

Great.Another Sherlock.

Before she could answer, Mike opened his mouth. "Yeah. She is. And she's the one who's been tailing me."

The four amigos all grinned like it was a good thing.

"No shit?" the second of the men intoned drolly.

Mike gave a groan. "Fine. Meet the woman who's got me under surveillance. Cisco Andera, Doug Lumous, Kyle Sothard, Welker Vestore, this is Elle Picket."

Yeah.He emphasized her name to let the foursome know he didn't for a minute believe that was her true identity.

"And why is this pretty lady dogging your ugly ass?" the one introduced as Kyle asked.

"We'll get into that." Mike's dark eyes stabbed into hers as if daring her to rebuke him. "But first, the lady is bleeding." He keyed up the mic on his shoulder and snarled into it to the team medic. "Deluthe. We need you in the parking lot. Stat. With your kit."

"On my way," a male responded immediately.

Mason's voice crackled to life over the comm. "Everything okay, Carlese?"

"Fine. I'm clear. But we have a minor injury to a…bystander."

"Roger that. Call if you need any additional help."

"Will do, Chief," Mike replied, signing off to stare at Joe again. Which was fine with her. Despite the new eye-candy who'd arrived, she still couldn't get enough of Mike, and she was happy he seemed to be experiencing the same.

There was a clearing throat when the silence seemed to go on for too long.

"Mike? Are you sure you don't need the medic, too?" the one named Kyle snickered as he addressed his buddy, getting answering elbow nudges from the other of his companions.

"No," Mike answered succinctly. "Why?"

"Because, um…" Kyle broke into a laughing fit that had him coughing to recover.

"Just spit it out, asshole," Mike huffed. It was obvious the bunch loved joshing around. It made Joelle a little jealous. That's what she'd been missing in her office. Fun. Of any kind.

Joe waited for the reply, knowing when it came, it would be a doozy.

Kyle wheezed, then got back in the game.

"Because LT," he raised a finger and pointed between Mike and Joe, "you, uh, might have a little blood in your beard."