Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(46)
Author: Catherine Mann

“Police,” a male voice shouted from outside. The fist pounded again. “Open up.”

Biting back a curse, Liam buttoned his pants and reached for his .45 caliber on the table.

“Sir, ma’am?” the voice shouted again. “Open this door now or I’m going to be forced to kick it down.”

Liam tucked his hand behind him, silver handgun in his fist, and opened the door. A burly dude in uniform blocked the doorjamb with his foot and flashed his badge. It looked legit.

Carefully, Liam tucked the gun into his waistband at the small of his back, hidden in the hem of his shirt Rachel had tugged loose seconds earlier. They really didn’t need this kind of attention. But like it or not, this guy wasn’t going to disappear.

The faster they settled this, the better. “Is there a problem, officer?”

Liam heard a clink, sort of like ice cubes, until he realized. Shit. The officer held up handcuffs.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for soliciting a prostitute.”

Chapter 12

Rachel held the shirt to her bare chest, twenty-dollar bills on the floor around her feet. In a seedy motel room. This so didn’t look good.

Neither did the gun in the back waistband of Liam’s jeans. The cop really wasn’t going to like that. Or the arsenal stowed away in the duffel bag. And oh God, was the television camera crew still filming? She peeked over the officer’s shoulder and they didn’t seem to be interested in the little drama unfolding in her life. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

Liam nudged his loose T-shirt over the gun and brought his empty hands around for the policeman to view. “What do you mean, under arrest for soliciting a prostitute?”

The cop pushed the door open wider, his backup now visible a few steps behind. The partner—a fresh-faced kid straight out of the academy, most likely—had his hand on his gun and looked entirely too twitchy.

The senior officer hitched a thumb in his belt. “Don’t bother denying it, sir. I saw your whole little exchange of cash outside the room—not wise, by the way. Especially in an establishment well-known for easy hooker traffic.” The police officer shook his head wearily. “I have heard more bullshit stories than you can imagine, trying to crack down on this place. So don’t even attempt to play on my sympathy by bringing in stories about your sick wife or your kids or your mama. Look me in the eyes. I do not care.”

Once the cops found the weapons, they were screwed. Road trip over. Right back in with the OSI and whatever made Liam haul her out of there in the first place.

She had to fix this for him. Now.

Rachel forced a blush up her face. “But Officer”—she glanced at his name tag—“Vogel, I’m not a hooker. I am his wife.”

Liam’s head whipped around.

Officer Vogel didn’t look impressed or convinced. Apparently he had heard it all.

“Hold on there, sister, I’m about to get around to your arrest. You may want to keep your mouth closed in the meantime, because consider this your official notice of you rights being read.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m guessing you’ve had them read to you before.”

Now that just wasn’t very nice.

If only she could put this scene on pause and pull her shirt back over her head, she would feel more comfortable telling him so.

“But I really am his wife.” The lie rolled too easily off her tongue. She stepped up behind Liam, which served the double duty of shielding that gun of his and giving her the chance to pull on her T-shirt.

She spoke over Liam’s shoulder. “We were playacting here. Marital bed sex has been getting rather, well, routine. We decided to spice things up, be spontaneous, role-play…” She shook her head, willing another blush up her cheeks. “God, this is embarrassing.”

“But entertaining.” Officer Vogel folded his arms over his chest, bulletproof vest under his shirt giving him extra bulk. “Whatever he paid you, sounds like he got his money’s worth.”

“Now you’re going to be sorry you said that when you realize I really am his legal bride, till death do us part.” She leaned toward the chair for her backpack.

“Halt!” The cop leveled his gun at her in a move so fast, Liam’s hand shot behind his back toward his weapon.

“Wait!” Rachel raised her hands fast.

God help them if Liam pulled his big-ass gun.

Damn it all, she knew better than to reach into her backpack that way. She was just rattled. Her skin still steamed from Liam’s touch and now she was facing down a cop. “Sorry, sir, I should have warned you first. I apologize. May I please get my identification out of my backpack?”

She could see the alarm in Liam’s face, see how badly he wanted to shout no, no, and hell no. He thought she was about to make them completely traceable to here. But she couldn’t explain.

He might have a plan A, B, and C, but she actually had a plan Z.

Holding her backpack, she thrust her hands out. “If you would prefer, you can go through it yourself.”

Please, please, she hoped he wouldn’t accept her bluff, since she had the chick gun Liam gave her after they left the Rocha’s home. With some luck, Officer Vogel would prefer to keep his hands free for his own weapon.

“Ma’am, you may get your ID, but go very slowly. No sudden moves or we’re finishing this at the station.”

She set the bag back on the table and pulled out the leather pouch. Only a flicker of surprise flashed through Liam’s eyes before he shielded his expression again.

Rachel plucked free the fake identifications that Sunny had given her, ones for a husband and wife. She prayed the grainy photos would pass muster. The dim lighting was in their favor.

“Here’s my driver’s license from our home state of Oregon. And here’s my husband’s identification as well. Phil and Audrey Franklin. On the bed over there are our family pets, Disco and Fang.”

Liam glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

She babbled on nervously, while Officer Vogel flipped the IDs over. “Phil didn’t have gray hairs yet in this photo, but he had the picture made back when he was using that Grecian Formula because he was worried about losing his masculinity.”

Choking on a cough, Liam scratched the back of his neck.

She forged ahead. “And what do you know? All we really needed was a vacation in Florida and some naughty fantasies.”

Frowning, Vogel passed the pair of IDs back to her. “These actually appear to be in order. You two should really be more careful. Places like this aren’t the safest. People usually come here to find something bad or hide from something even worse. Understand, ma’am?”