License to Thrill

best—I knew you would find me out."
    "So you shipped me here with a fake love letter."
    Tania sighed. "Very fake. You were supposed to be gone by the time the burglary took place—but you missed your damn plane." She frowned in Kat's direction. "I wonder what could have distracted you. Women have always been your weakness, James. I'm afraid this little dalliance will cost you your life."
    "You beat me to San Francisco, didn't you?" he asked. "It was you on the videotape, stealing the letter."
    She nodded, her eyes alight with drama. "Andy knew she was going to stumble across the forgeries when she inventoried the vault, so we came up with a way to get her out from underfoot." Her lip curled in disgust. "But your libido got in the way and messed up our entire plan."
    "But a bomb, Tania? I never figured you for a killer."
    "It's your fault—you forced our hand."
    "Surely you can't imagine you'll get away with this."
    "We have enough money now to buy new identities."
    His eyes flicked to the scrawny Wharton, whose arm was shaking from holding the gun. "And this is the man with whom you're going to spend your life as a fugitive?" He didn't attempt to keep the disdain from his voice.
    She smiled. "Let's just say there's more to him than meets the eye, James."
    James smirked, and scratched his rib cage. "Ah, so your well-endowed painter boyfriend knows how you convinced me to make this trip?"
    Her smile faltered, and Wharton’s brow crumpled. "What? You were on your back with him?"
    James shook his head. "Oh, no, Tania's positions were much more creative than that."
    "What?" Wharton screamed, swinging his gun forward and away from Kat's head. James jerked his gun out of his waistband and fired two shots in succession, hitting the man in the shoulder both times. Wharton fell back, firing his gun, and James heard Tenner grunt in pain. He looked back to see the detective lying on his back in a pool of blood, his eyes open and darting side to side.
    "Tenner!" Kat gasped and lunged for him.
    Tania grabbed the gun and yanked Wharton to his feet. She aimed at James and shot wildly. Two rounds ricocheted off the tiled floor. James dove for her legs and knocked her off her feet, the impact sending both weapons skittering across the floor. Tania fought like a wildcat, kicking, biting, and clawing. James knocked her out cold with a right jab. "Sorry, old gal," he whispered, then let her fall back to the floor.
    "James, look out!" Kat screamed.
    He rolled over and saw Wharton towering over him with the gun aimed at his chest. The man's face glistened with sweat, his shoulder oozing blood. His eyes were slightly glazed, and his lip curled back in a sneer. His finger started to squeeze the trigger. "Ugghh!" His eyes bulged in outraged pain as he froze for two seconds, then fell sideways, discharging the gun as he dropped.
    James ducked, feeling a zinging vibration between his legs as the bullet struck too close for comfort. When he lifted his head, Kat stood, still holding the glass canister she'd bashed into Wharton's head.
    "Varnish," she said with a shaky smile.
    "I'll add it to my arsenal. How's Tenner?"
    "He's conscious—I'll call nine one one."

Chapter Fifteen

    JAMES KNOCKED ON the open door and stuck his head into the hospital room. "Are you up to the task of talking?"
    "Well, if it isn't Agent Donovan." Tenner gave him a face-splitting grin from the hospital bed. "Sure, come on in. What did you bring me?"
    James handed him a greasy sack with a wry smile. "Italian sausage with mustard and onions, and cheese fries with chili on the side."
    Tenner beamed. "Thank you, Donovan, you really know how to make a man happy."
    He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I must say, that's the first time anyone has ever told me that. How are you feeling?"
    Tenner tore into the sack and stuffed a fry into his mouth. Then he patted his stomach, bulging under the thin hospital gown. "Just a flesh wound, and thank goodness I have plenty of that. I should be out in plenty of time for the trial. How's Beaman?"
    James frowned. "Not as cheerful as you, old chap, but he'll pull through. I've come to say good-bye."
    The detective's brow furrowed. "You're leaving?"
    He nodded.
    "Taking Ms. McKray with you, I hope."
    James lowered his gaze. He hadn't been able to shake the chest-tightening blahs since he rolled off Kat's couch this morning. Between her healing injuries and mutual wariness, they had silently agreed on separate sleeping arrangements for the last