The Better Part of Darkness by Kelly Gay Page A

wood. My legs were so weak now, I had to kneel down. Hank didn’t listen. I felt his presence above me and looked up to see him lean over me and put his ear on the door. I gave him a sharp look, but he wasn’t paying attention. If I turned my head, my nose would be inches from his crotch.
    I jabbed him in the thigh, and he glanced down at me with an irritated expression. Move over, I mouthed, jerking my thumb to the left. His eyes lit with laughter as he realized my position—on my knees in front of his sarong-encased manhood. I wasn’t laughing. He mouthed back, Sorry .
    Voices came from beyond the door.
    “It’s all over the news.”
    “Why contain it? I say we use it to our advantage. It’s perfect timing.”
    “It could backfire, make us look like opportunists.”
    Three voices. One vaguely familiar. I closed my eyes, thinking it would somehow allow me to hear better, but all I saw were flashes of my dream. Those terrible images. I gasped and lost my balance, catching myself with both hands on the soft carpet.
    “What? What it is?” Hank whispered.
    “Nothing.” I shook it off, reaching for my weapon. It wasn’t there. Shit. “We need to get into that room.”
    “We don’t have backup. Or weapons.”
    I pushed to my feet and stepped back, biting my lip. We could break the door down, but that would tip off whoever was inside that we were the law. We could wait for them to come out, but that could take hours and there might be another exit from the room.
    I turned to Hank. “Put your arms around me.”
    He blinked. “What?”
    “Our plan. We embrace, fall into the door. It bursts open. We get a good look at them and then act like we were just looking for a place to …”
    “Get it on.” His face split into a blinding, deep-dimpled grin. “I like the way you think, Madigan.”
    “Focus, Hank.”
    We backed away from the door. All business, I wrapped my arms lightly around him, hesitant to touch his smooth, bare skin. My hands settled against his warm back, and I tried not to dwell on the hard muscle under my palms. Hank took my cue, but in his usual all-consuming way. He enveloped me, holding me tightly, one big hand between my shoulder blades and the other splayed way too low on my back. He really didn’t need to press so hard or make sure my hips were that snug against him. I had a feeling if I looked up, it’d be to see him grinning like a damn fool and enjoying this immensely. And the last thing I wanted was to make eye contact lest he see how truly uncomfortable this position had become.
    I tried to ignore the scent of his skin mixed with faint traces of the herby stuff that perfumed the baths. And just for a moment, the urge was there to snuggle into him and enjoy the protection and the instant warmth that vanquished the cold.
    “Let my shoulder hit the door,” he said, practically lifting me off my feet. “Ready?”
    Tensing, I nodded without looking at him.
    We rushed the door, twisting before impact so that his shoulder hit the wood, and rammed the door hard enough to fly through.
    The breath whooshed out of me as my back connected with hardwood floor and Hank landed on my stomach and chest. So much for chivalry. I’d taken the brunt of the fall, cushioning his landing. He lay sprawled halfway on top of me, our legs intertwined and my gown riding high on my hips. His body shook, and I realized he was laughing, his face buried in my hair and against my neck. I wasn’t sure if it was for real or for the benefit of the room’s occupants.
    Recovering my breath, I decided to follow his lead, laughed, and then brushed the hair from my face to see two startled males standing in front of a large desk, staring down at us with a mix of outrage and shock.
    “Who the hell are you? Who let you in here?” A thin, dark-haired male stared down at us, his narrow face pinched and red and very familiar
    Hank untangled himself from me and helped me stand. My hand was in his when I recognized the accent