No Strings Attached: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eight by Julie Moffett Page B

word until you prove to be a worthy opponent.”
    He took my mug from my hand and backed me farther against the counter, pinning me between him and the cold marble at my back. “It’s not intimidation,” he growled. “I’m a trained interrogator. I can make you tell me.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty talented at evasion tactics, if I do say so myself.”
    “Shall we see?” Keeping me trapped with the weight of his body and his eyes never leaving mine, he slid his hands down my shoulders and arms. He rested one hand on my hip while the other slid across the flat of my stomach and stopped just at the lower part of my abdomen. I could feel the heat of his hand through my shirt.
    My breath caught in my throat. Holy cow.
    “I’m going to venture a guess I have successfully exercised sexual innuendo,” I said.
    He leaned in and whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my cheek. “I think we need to play right now.”
    Yep. All indications were that I’d been effective. Hooray!
    He nibbled on the sensitive spot just below my ear before whispering, “And, just so we’re clear, cara , tease or not, I will beat you.”
    “Don’t get cocky,” I warned. “If you lose focus, you won’t have a prayer.”
    “Don’t make me crush you.” He pulled me hard against him. “Game. Now .”
    Gripping my hand, he pulled me toward the couch where my laptop sat. “Open it.”
    “You know, Slash, this teasing thing is kind of...empowering,” I said, dutifully retrieving my laptop. “And sexy. I may need to practice more.”
    “All these epiphanies are putting me at a disadvantage,” he grumbled, but I could hear a hint of humor in his voice.
    He sat down beside me, opening his briefcase and pulling out his laptop. He balanced it on his lap as he logged on. A few taps later, it was game time.
    “Ready?” he asked, fingers poised over the keyboard.
    “Ready.” I positioned my fingers, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”
    “No worries. I am sufficiently motivated. I intend to win.”
    One hour and a fierce battle later, he did. Barely.
    Later, lying in his arms, it didn’t feel at all like I’d lost.

Chapter Eighteen
    It seemed like I’d just fallen asleep when my phone rang. I fumbled for it on the bedside table, but when I picked it up, there was no one there. At that point, I realized Slash was already talking to someone and I was holding my hairbrush.
    I set the brush down and rolled over. I must have been sleeping like the dead. Slash had been coding. His laptop sat open and glowing on the bed. It was two twenty-seven in the morning. Who the heck called at two twenty-seven in the morning?
    Slash snapped on the light and I blinked in the harsh glare.
    “Give me the address. I’ll be there in twenty.” He snatched a pen and scribbled something on a scrap of paper.
    Slash hung up and sat on the side of the bed, hanging his head and pushing his hand through his hair.
    “Who was that?” I rolled over, shielding my eyes from the light.
    He didn’t speak for a moment, and when he did, his voice was unusually serious and something else. Anguished. “We’ve got a problem.”
    I snapped awake. Frowning, I sat up, clutching the blanket in my fingers against my chest. “What happened?”
    He didn’t answer right away or turn in my direction, so I crawled across the bed and rested a hand on his bare shoulder. “What’s happened? Slash? Talk to me.”
    The muscles in his shoulders were taut beneath my fingers. “I’m beginning to think this whole thing hasn’t been about a hack.”
    I leaned closer, resting my chin on his shoulder. “I don’t understand. It’s not? Then what is it?”
    “A hit.”
    I blinked in shock. “A what ?”
    “A hit. An IAD employee has just been shot and killed.”
    “Oh, God.” My mind tried to process his words, but it was having a hard time. “Who?”
    “Grant Durham.”
    “Grant Durham?