Killing Time Read online

  The only satisfaction he’d been able to gain was in locating her links and taking them, making sure she couldn’t return. Finding them hadn’t been particularly difficult; the book said to bury them at the transition point so the agent would know exactly where they were, and Stover went by the book. All he’d had to do was locate the disturbed area of leaves and dirt, and dig them up.

  “I can’t wait to see her again,” Ruth said. “I’ve been going over and over in my head what I’ll say to her, to make her go to the doctor and have those tests run. She’s so—she could be so stubborn sometimes. She was busy, with the wedding coming up and trying to get everything ready. She won’t want to go. I’ll have to make her listen.”

  “You’ll think of something.” He smiled a little. “You might have to demonstrate the links before she’ll believe you.”

  “You’ll show me how to do that?”

  “Yes, but you have to be very careful and do exactly as I demonstrate.”

  “I will.” She hesitated. “When will I go back?”

  “When Stover’s dead.”

  Pain flashed across Ruth’s face. “I wish she didn’t have to die.”

  “She has to for my mission to succeed. I don’t want to kill her, I have to kill her. And if I don’t succeed, if she manages to kill me, remember that she’ll be hunting for those links and she’s a highly skilled agent. She has to suspect I have them. She’ll reconstruct my movements, discover where I’ve been, and then she’ll come after you. If I don’t kill her, Ruth, you’ll have to. It’s the only way you’ll be able to save Rebecca.”

  31

  “He’ll be waiting when we go home,” Nikita said. “He’ll prefer darkness, but if he has a clear shot at me, he’ll take it, regardless of the time of day.”

  “Then I’ll have to take someone home with me besides you.”

  She knew what he meant. He needed a woman, but someone who, when she got out of the car, was recognizably not Nikita. Hugh would be in his rental car; Knox would call Nikita’s cell phone and give her the location of the car. In the meantime, she would be approaching on foot. While Hugh was watching Knox’s house, she would be slipping up behind him. She and Knox would have him caught between them.

  The plan wasn’t without risk, to both of them. There was no armor invented, in either this time or hers, that could withstand a laser weapon. But she had a laser, too, and come to that, a bullet could kill someone just as dead. They would have Hugh outnumbered. The odds were in their favor, but nothing was certain.

  After their adventure at Howard Easley’s old house, they were both sweaty and filthy. Knox called his father and asked if they could shower and wash their clothes at his house while he and Lynnette were at work. Kelvin, as usual, asked no questions.

  Knox knew where the extra key was, so they drove straight out there. “You know how to work the laundry machine,” Nikita said as they got out of the car. She pulled her T-shirt off over her head and tossed it to him. “You do that while I get in the shower.”

  Women in her time wore breast bands instead of bras, as they provided better support and were far more comfortable. They fastened by pressing the two overlapping ends of fabric together, so they were completely adjustable. Since her sojourn in the weeds and bushes, however, she felt as if tiny bugs were crawling all over her, and she was dreadfully afraid she had contracted a severe case of chiggers. The breast band came off, and she tossed that to Knox, too.

  He fumbled for the key, not taking his gaze from her as she bent to take off her shoes. “Are you going to completely undress out here?” he asked with considerable interest.

  “If it takes you much longer to get that door open, then—yes.” She threw her socks at him and unfastened her jeans, pushing them down her legs and stepping out of them. Grit scraped at her tender bare feet and made her toes curl. He’d finally found the key but was having a difficult time getting it to fit into the lock. She tossed her jeans over his shoulder and pushed her underpants down. “Hurry!”

  “I can’t,” he said.

  “You could if you’d look at what you’re doing instead of at me!”

  “I can’t,” he said again. “Jesus God!”

  She tossed her underpants into his arms and shouldered him aside, unlocking the door herself. He dropped everything and reached for her just as the door opened. She burst through, skidded to a stop in the kitchen, and said, “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “Straight ahead, turn right, second door on the left.”

  The crawling sensation was so horrible she jumped into the shower before the running water had a chance to get hot. She yelped at the cold water, but even if it had been freezing cold, that was preferable to bugs.

  She had already soaped down and rinsed off when the shower curtain was jerked aside and a tall, naked man got into the tub with her.

  “You’re getting the floor wet,” she said.

  “I’ll mop the water up later.” He moved closer, crowding her, pressing her against the cold tile. His penis was so stiff it was curving upward, poking her in the belly.

  She put her hands against his shoulders and pushed, moving him back. “I’m nice and clean, but you’re all grimy and buggy. Just stand there and I’ll take care of the problem.”

  His eyes were hot and narrow, but he did as she told him. His head was lowered and his gaze locked on her as she squirted a huge amount of liquid soap into her hands and started at his chest and shoulders, working up a great deal of lather. She washed his arms and back, his belly, then started at his feet and worked up. She darted a quick glance at him and saw that his jaw was locked and rigid, his throat working as he made himself stand there. She didn’t look up after that, concentrating on what she was doing, smoothing her soapy hands over and between his buttocks. He made a choked sound, then was silent except for the harsh rush of his breathing.

  She took a long time to wash his penis. By the time she finished his head was bowed and his entire body was quivering, one arm braced against the wall while his other hand was knotted in her wet hair. She simply leaned forward and took him in her mouth, holding him with her right hand and with her left gripping his ass and pulling him to her. A ragged sound tore out of his throat and his hips bucked; when she sensed he was on the verge of climax, she pulled away and stood.

  Before she could wipe the water out of her face, he had her pinned against the wall, one thigh hooked around his waist, and he shoved himself into her so hard she couldn’t stop the small scream that escaped. He didn’t apologize, just pulled back and shoved again, and again. She had known that she was pushing him so far she likely wouldn’t have time to climax but thought his response was well worth having to wait for her own pleasure; to her surprise, that hard, rolling rhythm pushed her into a fierce climax that left her weak and clinging to him for support. He lifted her completely off her feet and hammered into her, too far gone for even the pretense of consideration or sophistication, left with nothing but the blind, single-minded drive to orgasm.

  Gradually she noticed that the water had gone cold. She fumbled for the control and turned off the shower. He remained collapsed against her, his chest heaving, his head resting heavily on her shoulder. If she hadn’t been pinned against the wall, she couldn’t have remained upright herself. She had wanted to play with him, tease him, but somewhere along the way they had both been sucked into a powerful whirlpool that had been too strong to deny or control.

  “It’s too soon to say I love you,” he muttered against her shoulder. “We’ve known each other three days. So I’m not saying it.”

  “I’m not saying it, either,” she whispered, as if by her silence she could deny the storm winds of emotion that were already swirling.

  “I have an idea,” Ruth said. Since Byron had given her the links, she had grown increasingly anxious. She could feel them burning into her skin, even though she wasn’t wearing them. In her mind the links were snapped around her wrists and ankles; in her mind, she was seconds away from seeing