Rather than falling onto his back as she’d hoped he’d do, he sat down, his tone solemn. “Miranda…”
“My turn, Ortega. You’ve called all the shots up till now. Can’t I have my way just once?”
He licked his lips, then nodded. “Sounds fair.”
Amused, she tugged her dress over her head and threw it onto the floor. Then she straddled him and pushed him again, and this time, he cooperated fully, laying back and watching as she unbuckled the utility belt that held his gun and holster, then went to work on the buttons of his khaki shirt.
She ran her fingertips across his chest again, this time connecting with bare, tanned skin. Then she took off her bra and waited, and Ortega obliged her by stroking her breasts appreciatively.
“Oo, that’s nice.” She smiled. “Finish getting undressed while I get a condom.” She crawled over to the nightstand and grabbed her purse, dumping it onto the comforter and rummaging through the multicolored packets.
“Expecting an army?” Ortega teased.
“I thought they were just props,” she confessed with a laugh. “This is so much better. Let’s try a blue one.”
“Wait.” He pulled her down alongside himself, then cupped her chin in his hand and gave her a long, lingering kiss.
Inspired, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, savoring the mint taste. His hands began to roam over her breasts, and her back, then inside her panties, tugging them down gently.
“It’s time,” she murmured, sitting up, then stretching and rolling the blue condom over him. Flashing a mischievous smile, she straddled him again, then slowly, luxuriantly, fit him into her.
The rush of sensation she felt was so intense, and so disorienting, she actually believed for the first time that the power pill was playing Cupid in this adventure. Forcing herself to exhale, she struggled to gain back a hint of spiritual balance in the midst of the heady physical pleasure.
“Miranda?” Ortega asked, his voice husky.
“I’m just trying to find my center,” she explained without opening her eyes.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he told her, rolling gently so that he was on top. “Why don’t I find it for you?”
She laughed with delight, then wrapped her arms around his neck again, murmuring words of appreciation and encouragement as Ortega proceeded to make good on his offer.
“Mmm, Ortega…” Miranda stretched, then snuggled into her pillow when they had finished. “I forgot how good you were at that.”
He propped himself up on his elbow and looked directly into her eyes. “Exactly how mad are you going to be at me when you finally sober up?”
She enjoyed the bronze glow for a moment before explaining, “It’s not the drug. It’s something else. Role- playing gone berserk, I think.”
“What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “I needed to be convincing in the role of your mistress, so I spent hours fantasizing about you before I got here. I guess I got myself all lathered up.”
“And I’ve been fantasizing about you for more than a year,” he admitted, adding hastily, “but not with that stupid alibi video. I swear.”
“Are you sure you want to bring that up now?” Miranda taunted him, then she sighed. “I was looking for an excuse to be disgusted with you that day. If it hadn’t been the tape it would have been something else. I just wasn’t quite ready to admit that you were an okay guy.”
“And now you are?”
She sat up, pulling the sheet along with her to cover her breasts. “I guess so. And you can thank Jonathan Kell for that. You’re such a hero in his eyes. So noble. Or at least-” she paused to glare “-you were until today. Did you have to be so rough on him?”
“I had to convince him-and you-that I was the Brigadier. A man with a ruthless agenda. And it worked, didn’t it?”
“It worked for me,” she agreed with a laugh. “But poor Jonathan is probably still shaking. We’d better get down there and reassure him a little. He’s very sensitive, Ortega.”
“Forget Kell. We’ve got to get out of here before he figures out the truth. He could get a communication from the real Brigadier at anytime. Then we’d be screwed.”
“I don’t think they communicate much. And the whole Brigade is scheduled to arrive this weekend, so I think we have some time.” She smiled reassuringly. “We can’t leave now. You’ve created a brilliant opportunity for us to get valuable intel. Dates, locations, names. We don’t need the Brigadier’s identity so much anymore. All we have to do is stake out the fortress this weekend and watch him arrive. But I get the impression their timetable is aggressive. The more we can find out, the better prepared the country can be when they make their move.”
She could see he was listening, so she explained, “He only talked to me in generalities. Political theory, that sort of thing. But he thinks you know the specifics already. If you’re clever-and we both know you are-you can get him talking. Really talking. Just get in touch with your inner spinner. I’ve seen what Kristie can do, and you trained her, so you might be even better.”
He shook his head, laughing. “My inner spinner? That’s a new one.”
“You’ve got to try, Ortega. There’s so much riding on this. More than we originally suspected, I think.”
He pursed his lips, then spoke carefully. “If I agree to stay tonight-to try to get as much information out of him as possible-will you agree to leave with me tomorrow morning? No arguments?”
“I almost think we have to,” she admitted. “I can’t take a chance on being here when Alexander Gresley arrives. He’ll recognize me, and he’d love to wring my neck.”
“Because?”
She outlined her adventure in London, adding solemnly, “See? Wild horses couldn’t keep me here any longer than absolutely necessary.”
“Unbelievable.” He rubbed his eyes. “Okay, we have a tentative deal. But if I sense the slightest hint of trouble, we leave right away. My call. Agreed?”
She nodded.
“Is there any chance we could turn Kell? Convince him to knowingly work with us against the Brigade?”
She shook her head. “He’s so sweet. But he’s obsessed with getting revenge against a system that abandoned him to torture and almost certain death. He hates America. Hates the establishment. And he craves being in a position of power, not for power’s sake, but just so he can finally feel safe.”
“I remember,” Ortega murmured. “Sometimes when they’d bring him back from a really rough session with Benito Carerra, Kell would be delirious. Ranting about his vision for a safer world.”
“Well, he found someone-or rather, a group of someones-that agree with him.” She slipped out of the bed and reached for her dress. “We’d better get back to him.”
“Don’t wear the same clothes. I want him to know what happened between us. Wear something sexy. Lots of leg. Something you’d wear for a lover afterwards.”
“Okay.” She smiled ruefully as she watched him dress in his Brigadier uniform. “Want to do me a favor?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“I had to overpower one of Kell’s guards so I could get his gun. He’s on the balcony, bound and gagged. And probably furious.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“His name is Carl. I had to act fast, or I never would have been so rough on him, even though he’s a pain in the ass. Tell him I’m sorry, okay?”
“I’m the Brigadier,” Ortega reminded her. “I’ll tell him to suck it up.”
“That works, too.” She watched with wistful admiration as he strode onto the balcony. He was just what Jonathan Kell claimed him to be-a flawed man with heroic potential. Of course, she had seen the other side of him firsthand, and knew he wasn’t perfect. Then again, who was?
Hurrying into the bathroom, she dressed in sexy pajamas consisting of white silk shorts and a matching sleeveless tank top. Bare feet. No jewelry. Just the glow from Ortega’s lovemaking to adorn her.
When she returned to the room, Ortega was standing there, and from the look in his eyes she could see he approved of her outfit. But still she asked, “Is this what you had in mind?”
