Look what the wave dragged in...

Look what the wave dragged in…
By AAnitaB
Chapter two: Cowardice is the better part of Valor

//Delegation and retreat are not the same thing.// She did try to believe herself as the hallway floor clicked and clacked under her heels. It made logical sense. Two people, two tasks to be done.

But the damn voice in the back of her brain was laughing at her softly. It didn’t believe her at all. It missed the scent of his cologne and the soft drawl in his voice.

“AFIS, Calleigh. Focus on the case and find a damn guest list.” Sitting before the computer, she went about the task of scanning each and every print into the system. Calm, logical, methodical. //Atta girl, Calleigh,// She just ignored the also logical section of her mind that had spent that same time calculating the average speed of the book procedure.

//It shouldn’t be taking this long… should it? Damnit, stop.// Forcibly dragging her eyes off the door, Calleigh made her fingers work the keyboard. Local databases first, then California for associates of the known suspects, then national just to be safe.

Sadly, until the computer found a match, there was nothing else she was supposed to be doing and the colors on the screen were somehow not enough of a distraction to her thoughts.

Hurricane Anthony. That was the last time her mind had simply refused to focus this much. And for the same damn reason. Detective Francis Tripp. He’d touched her then. Big hands warm on her back. Strong fingers nearly hiding her own. He’d hovered around her, warmth and protection in tailored wool lines.

And with this wave coming, Frank was hovering again, bending that tall frame into her space with the scent of his cologne. But no touch yet.

So far, those hands hadn’t reached out to cross the invisible barrier they kept up so easily on normal days.

Damn him. If he’d touched her already, maybe, just maybe she’d be able to concentrate now. Just get it over with, bottle it back up and move on. Then she’d be able to concentrate past the scent of his cologne and the imagined weight of his eyes.

“How’s our guest list coming?”

Or the low rumble of his voice. Cursing the sudden willingness of her muscles to turn, Calleigh slapped her trademark smile on and forced the cheeriness into her voice. The first line of defense. “Nothing yet. I was just about to try California, homeland of one of our known guests.”

Those long muscular limbs moved closer, crossing the room to press heat against the back of her chair. And up and down her spine. “Try Texas first. Somethin’ he said in booking reminded me of home.” Leaning in, Frank reached for the keyboard. “May I?”

She couldn’t help smiling… or breathing in a whiff of his cologne. “Of course,”

It was usually her leaning across him at the keyboard. But Calleigh would bet Frank didn’t have this hard a time keeping his hands on the arm rests of the chair.

He couldn’t possibly want to reach out and touch her as much as her fingers itched to trace the muscles of his shoulders, the strong lines of his arms. He just… couldn’t.

Calleigh dragged her eyes off the line of his shirt against his throat and forced them to the screen. Not looking at his fingers on the keyboard either.

Yup, Calleigh Duquesne was a professional. Completely focused on the case at hand. Not her partner’s hands.

The pit of her stomach didn’t believe her. Especially when that low voice rumbled. “When the big metal bars clanged shut, he started yellin’ insults. One o’ which my mama washed outta my mouth when I was 16.”

He smiled at her over his shoulder and Calleigh searched desperately for a response other than leaning up to touch his lips with her own. //Come on, girl, think.// “Mama Tripp didn’t take to that kind of language, did she?”

“No, no she didn’t.” That smile wasn’t making life any easier on Calleigh, about to ruin her manicure on the arms of her chair. “And you didn’t argue with my mama ‘less you wanted a whoopin’”

//Distraction, Calleigh.// “Tough lady?” She watched him set the search parameters before he turned to lean on the edge of the desk, arms folded over a broad chest.

“Sure is. Shorter ‘n you in bare feet, looks like a tiny porcelain doll.” Tripp smiled fondly, almost shaking his head. “Would and did take on a whole herd o’ steers for her kids.”

“No wonder her little boy grew up to be such a great guy.” //Whoa, girl, dangerous territory, back pedaling now.// “So our dinner guest has been hanging out with some Longhorn fans?”

“Yeah, I think he did. Let’s hope he met those friends at the big house.”

The computer’s beeping finally succeeded in dragging Calleigh’s eyes away. “Looks like he did,” Scooting forward, she felt Tripp lean in over her shoulder. “Last known’s right here in Miami.”

Those strong fingers finally, finally crossed the invisible space between them and flattened on her shoulder. The heat made her eyes fall closed and her breath almost catch in her throat. Calleigh barely heard his next words.

“We better take ‘im his invitation, then. ‘Fore the wave beats us there.”

Nodding, she forced a smile and let the detective lead her out to the car. That strong hand felt like it never left her back the whole way.

He’d finally touched her and she still couldn’t concentrate. //Damnit, Frank. And damn the wave.//

000


Tripp leaned in and felt his stomach sink before she even started to speak. “Last known’s right here in Miami.”

Of course it was. Halfway to the coast and right in the path of the wave. And Calleigh was going to insist on leaving the safety of the lab to go check it out. Even his mama Tripp couldn’t talk her out of putting herself in harm’s way. He didn’t have a chance.

Fingers uncurled themselves from his fists and reach for her before his brain caught up. By then his hand was under her hair, warming the line of her shoulder. And Tripp couldn’t make himself pull it away. “We better take ‘im his invitation, then. ‘Fore the wave beats us there.”

If she was going, and he damn well knew she would, he was going with her. It might as well sound like his idea.

And he might as well keep his hand on her back on the way to the car. Not that Tripp could stop now if he wanted to try. Once he touched her, it took days to get his hands back in control. It was hard enough to keep the touches light and subtle. And appropriate.

“How much time do we have?” Calleigh looked across the seat at him as she buckled in. He followed her eyes to the dashboard clock, trying not to notice the chill in his fingers.

“Should be enough to get there and back. If we believe the weather channel.” Damn, he loved that smile, the one that said “I love to play with guns.”

“Guess we should hurry, shouldn’t we, Frank?”

//Don’t react, don’t react to her voice.// “Yes, ma’am.” Finding a gap in traffic, Tripp worked the gas pedal aggressively. The faster this was done, the sooner Calleigh would be back in the lab, inland, third floor… safe.

The road and traffic required all his attention. Simply wouldn’t do to get them both killed in a car wreck trying to protect her from the damn wave. Even Calleigh’s voice took two tries to get his attention. Her hand on his arm made the car swerve just a little. “Uh, Frank, we shouldn’t have trusted the weather channel, I think.”

His eyes landed on her fingers on his wrist and followed her eyes out the side window. The horizon wasn’t supposed to be that high. “Goddamnit all to hell.”

“What would mama Tripp say?” Her fingers tightened on his arm and the door handle as he floored the gas.

“She’d say get your asses off the road and to higher ground, you damn idiots. “ The shoulder of the road had just enough clearance. The curb jounced Calleigh’s hand off his wrist. The building ahead had at least four floors. It would have to do. A combo of gas and brake screeched the car to a halt as close to the door as possible. “And she’d say hurry. Come on, Cal.”

Her hand was held tight in his before he’d thought about reaching for her. A well-placed shoulder had the door open and Calleigh led the way across the room.

“Stairs, this way.”

Once again, he cursed her shoes as his hand planted itself in the middle of her back to steady her up the stairs. “Faster, Calleigh,” Tripp was trying not to hear the growing rushing sound of the wave as they cleared the second flight of stairs. //We’re not high enough.// The wave could be 30 or 40 feet high.

Ahead of him, Calleigh cleared the corner. She was not only keeping up with him, near a foot shorter and in heels. Calleigh was holding back a hand to him. “Almost there, Frank, come on.”

Fingers clinging, they hit the top of the stairs. As high as they could get, but it might not be enough. The roof would be fatal to be washed off. //Something to brace us.//

For safety, the stairs had high metal railings built into the cement. That should hold. Threading one arm through the bars, Tripp reached out for Calleigh with the other. “Come here and hold on tight, Cal.”

Not a flicker of hesitation crossed her face as she stepped right into his arms and buried herself against his chest. He pulled her closer and tightened his two-handed grip on the railing at her back. The feel of her in his arms was trying to melt his brain. The smell of her hair and every curve of her body pressing closer along his could almost drown out the sound of the wave coming. //Damnit, Detective, stay focused.//

Some of what he was feeling holding her like this had to be on her face. Tripp bent his head down to hide his eyes against her hair. Her arms slid up his chest to wrap around his neck, pressing herself closer. “Frank,”

“I go ya, Calleigh, I’m here.” The sound was getting closer.

“Just… hold on tight, Frank. No getting washed away on my here.” Her breath shuddered a little past his ear, her ribs moving against his as her arms tightened. “It’s almost here.” She shifted in his arms, making him bite his lips to hold back a groan. She just felt so impossibly good. Tripp obeyed the little push of her hands, raising his head just enough to see her eyes. “Frank?”

Helplessly, he watched her eyes drop to his mouth and her teeth sink into her lip. She couldn’t possibly be thinking what it looked like … could she? “Yeah, Cal,”

She did. //Yes, Calleigh,// Before he could have hoped to react, she’d lifted up on her toes and pressed eager lips to his. Calleigh… Calleigh was kissing him and it was … simply amazin’. Tripp’s brain left his body in control. And he wanted more. Hands fisting in the back of her shirt, he pressed her closer, lips opening against the soft heat of hers. So warm, so sweet. //Calleigh,//

Her hands cupped his jaw, her lips parting in an invitation he was helpless to resist. //Oh, Calleigh,// She tasted like heaven, felt like smooth satin, responded like fire in his arms. Frank needed her, needed more.

“Frank, please,” The low groan on her lips made his hands clench. Calleigh wanted this, her fingers clinging to his neck as she tried to get his lips back. //Oh, yes, Darlin’//

Too short by far. He smiled, leaning down to lift her against his chest. Now it was Frank’s turn to groan as Calleigh braced herself with a leg around his waist and invaded his mouth with an agile tongue. She was gonna have this railing imprinted on her back if he kept pressing her closer. But her nails digging in through his shirt simply wouldn’t let him pull back.

He could never give up the fire and sweetness of her so close, her hips rubbing and shifting against his. “Oh, god, sweet Cal.” His body responded on its own, hips moving in kind as her ankles crossed behind his back. He buried his face against her throat, groaning into her skin as her arms pulled him closer.

“Frank,” The breathless sound of her voice made his fingers clench around the bars. He’d dreamed about hearing that sound, fantasized about feeling her legs around his waist and her breasts against his chest. He’d imagined her kiss, but the reality of it all blew everything else out of the water. The feel of her, the taste and heat and touch of her were… “You feel… incredible.”

//So do you,// Raising his head, Frank reached for her lips with his own, “Calleigh, please.”

Suddenly the roaring sound broke through his one track thoughts with a crash. The entire building shook and shuddered under the impact, sending every muscle in Frank’s body a simple message—hold on tight. Calleigh seemed to get the same idea, nearly cutting off his breathing with the strength of her grip. “Frank,”

“Hold on, Cal, I got ya.” The shaking slowed, then stopped. Frank slowly loosened his grip and lifted his head. The wet sheen reached more than halfway up the top flight of stairs. So close to disaster. So close to Calleigh.

000