NOBODY DOES IT BETTER...


      by Lori Beatty



      Templeton Peck, a cheerful smirk upon his face, stepped off the ironwork elevator and sauntered down the hallway to his left. His well-trained eye gazed appreciatively at the subdued opulence in the old Monte Carlo Hotel. This was living--this was true class. This was the life he was born to inhabit. So why was he playing messenger boy while Murdock got to be the suave and debonair secret agent? Life was a bitch. "And then you die," he muttered aloud.

      As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of the impeccably clad "spy." "Ah, there you are, Monsieur Ross," Face drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I have come to summon you for a debriefing."

      Murdock stared stoically at the fair-haired member of the A-Team, the only sign of recognition being a slightly raised eyebrow. "Indeed. Surely the hotel has bellhops for that purpose."

      Face frowned at Murdock's continued use of the Scottish brogue. "Come on, Murdock," he hissed. "Hannibal wants to see you."

      Murdock's mouth twitched briefly, then he turned the key in the lock and stepped into the Presidential Suite. Face followed close at his heels.

      The pair were barely two steps into the room when they both noticed the various bits of feminine attire scattered tantalizingly around the room. It seemed Monsieur Logan Ross had a visitor.

      "Well," Murdock commented. "Well, well."

      Face was impressed and intrigued. He glanced at Murdock and smiled knowingly.

      Murdock looked askance at Face and continued across the room following the trail of lingerie and silk, stopping briefly to pick up a fine lace hankie.

      The sound of the bedroom door opening sent both men hurrying for cover. Face nearly tripped as Murdock shoved him roughly out the French doors and onto the balcony. The door had barely been pulled to when Face heard the seductive voice of Dominique. Touching his ear receiver lightly, he had little trouble hearing either Murdock or Dominique.

      "Nice fit, don't you think?" Dominique said softly.

      "Well, it never looked that good on me," he replied. "Tell me, do you always walk into a strange man's room and try on his clothes?"

      "I thought you'd be happy to see me. I thought you'd be very happy to see me."

      Face tried to peek through the curtains, but at that moment the lady slipped to the door and pulled it tightly shut. "Damn," he muttered softly, then went back to concentrating on the conversation taking place in the next room.

      "I was under the impression that Charles kept you on a rather tight leash."

      Poor Murdock, Face lamented. This woman was way out of his league. He'll never get anything out of her. He'll not know the first thing about handling her type.

      "Are you paid by the hour? Tell me, how far did Charles tell you you could go to get your information?"

      Geez, Murdock, Face thought. Don't antagonize her. Man, Hannibal, you should have let me do this.

      "Please don't make me go."

      Face tapped his earpiece, convinced he'd not heard Dominique correctly. She couldn't beŠshe wasn'tŠbegging Murdock to take her to bed? Well, he'd put a stop to that. "Uh, Murdock? Murdock, not here. Take her somewhere else. Murdock, can you hear me? Murdock? I know you can hear me!"

      A loud, ominous clap of thunder vibrated through Face, and he turned and grimaced at the rain that began to pelt him. "Murdock. Murdock! If you think I'm going to stand out here in the rain while youŠdisport yourselfŠ! Murdock, I know you can hear me!"

      He knew absolutely, positively, unequivocally, that Murdock was no longer listening to him. "Oh, no." He looked up into the cold, heartless rain, resigned to his fate.



      H.M. Murdock shoved Face out the door and looked at the doorway to his bedroom. He knew who waited on the other side. Face had seemed pleasantly surprised. Murdock would have been more surprised if Dominique hadn't been waiting to seduce him. He schooled his features into indifference as he looked at her standing in the doorway clad only in his silk shirt.

      She made some inane comment in her best throaty voice, and he answered with the appropriate nonentity.

      As she undulated toward him, he kept his amusement well hidden. She was good. Practiced. Bet if he had a dollar for each time she'd played this game in her life he'd make Mr. Khashoggi look like a pauper.

      Dominique sidled up to the French door and pulled it tightly closed, her eyes sending messages that even a blind man could read.

      Murdock decided that two could play this game. He saw no reason to make this easy on her. Besides, by closing the door she had unwittingly made Face the spy who looked in from the cold. The implications amused him.

      Murdock turned away from Dominique and strolled casually across the room. "I was under the impression that Charles kept you on a rather tight leash."

      "Now where would you get that idea? Charles wouldn't put any demands on me. He's not that way at all."

      "Yes, I'm sure he's quite a catch. Tell me, what's the purpose of your little expedition?"

      "You do go on, don't you? Charles wouldn't stoop to such tricks. He happens to be a wonderful man, and he treats me splendidly."

      Murdock wasn't impressed. "Well, then you should go back to him, by all means. But do leave the shirt."

      Dominique followed, determined to work her wiles on Monsieur Logan Ross. "Logan, please. I thought there was an attraction between us. Let me stay for a little while."

      Too bad Dominique was such an opportunist. She was very attractive, very seductive, and she was having a very definite effect on him. But he was determined to keep the upper hand in this little tete-a-tete.

      "Are you paid by the hour?" he quipped. "Tell me, how far did Charles tell you you could go to get your information?" Dominique didn't flinch. She merely changed tactics.

      "Logan, please." She sighed. "Ever since you arrived in Monte Carlo, he's been a changed man. He's almost obsessed with your presence. I've never seen this side of him before. It scares me."

      "Hmm. Well, you've got good instincts."

      "Please don't make me go. I don't know what he might do to me in his frame of mind."

      "All right," he conceded, setting his drink on the end table. "You can stayŠfor a bit."

      "Thank you, Logan."

      A wave of amused satisfaction washed through him. Face was probably suffering from shock about now. Dominique was actually begging to go to bed with him. Face's ego must be irrevocably scarred at that!

      From somewhere an impish, wicked streak appeared and Murdock allowed it full rein. "On one condition," Murdock qualified. "That you tell me everything that Charles wants to know."

      "Anything I can find out."

      The light of triumph in Dominique's eyes was blinding. Masterfully, Murdock took her in his arms and kissed her, vaguely aware of Face's voice in his ear.

      Dominique's passionate nature was even more intense than he'd anticipated. But she was kissing him with too much detachment. Her response might have fooled anyone else, but Murdock held a doctorate in psychology, and he knew the truth.

      Like a bothersome gnat, Face's voice continued to whine in Murdock's ear. Reaching up, Murdock removed the small receiver and dropped it casually into his drink. He then turned his attention fully on Dominique.

      She came to him willingly, her lips parting to allow him access--playing the submissive, eager partner.

      Murdock knew her game and was determined to keep her off guard. His tongue darted teasingly between her teeth as his hand slid languidly down her back. He felt warm, smooth flesh beneath his palm and reversed directions, sliding his fingers up under the shirt she wore. Dominique responded as his hand moved over the wisp of panties and along her side. He stopped his hand just under her breast and abruptly pulled away. If Dominique was surprised, she didn't show it. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable in the other room," he said softly, his eyes holding hers.

      Dominique reached up and laced her fingers behind his neck. "I'm comfortable in any position with you, Logan." Firmly she pulled his head down to hers, capturing his mouth in a kiss designed to arouse his basic instincts.

      It almost worked. In one fluid movement, Murdock rose from the couch, pulling Dominique with him. "There's a draft in this room. I wouldn't want you to come down with something," Murdock said gallantly.

      Dominique pressed herself against him, her lips brushing against his neck as she nestled close. "I wouldn't mind coming down anywhere with you."

      Murdock raised an eyebrow. She was better than he'd expected. The consummate seductress. This sexual tete-a-tete would be a battle of skills. Dominique would try every trick in her little book. But he had a few tricks too. "In any event," he said smoothly, "I'd feel responsible if you should turn up ill tomorrow." Firmly he guided her toward the bedroom, breaking eye contact only briefly to cast a quick, amused glance at the balcony doors.

      Dominique left his side in the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it. As she undulated her way to the bed, she glanced over her shoulder. "It's such a nice, big, firm bed, Logan. We should sleep satisfied."

      "Firmness is always a factor in these matters," he quipped as he pulled casually at his bow tie. He was in no hurry to undress. Dominique, he was certain, had some elaborate, seductive ritual she would perform before they climbed between the sheets. She didn't disappoint him.

      With the skill of a courtesan, she began to pull the covers down on the bed. Each movement was calculated to afford him the most tantalizing glimpse of her exquisite form. Murdock automatically began to undress, fascinated by the performance Dominique gave.

      With one hand she pulled back the shimmering bedspread, slowly peeling it along the length of the bed until it reached the foot, then leaning over from the waist in a mock attempt at placing it carefully on the floor. The position afforded Murdock an unobstructed view of her creamy breast.

      Satisfied that he couldn't take his eyes from her, Dominique moved to the head of the bed again, this time making an elaborate ruse of straightening pillows. The soft curves of her thighs and derriere peeked out from beneath the shirt, and Murdock grinned inwardly. The little scamp had it all figured. She was going to play the sweet, innocent young thing looking to him for comfort and aid and, in doing so, reduce Logan Ross to a helpless slave to her sexual favors. Well, Logan Ross had other plans.

      Murdock had discarded his coat and tie and was working on his shirt studs when Dominique came to him again.

      "Let me help you," she whispered. Slowly she fondled the small diamond fasteners, making certain her fingers came into contact with his chest as she removed each one.

      Murdock had allowed Dominique complete freedom with his undressing, but when she tugged at the pleated shirt to remove the last stud, he suddenly grabbed both her wrists in his hands. The unexpected action made Dominique catch her breath.

      Murdock stared down at her, his features an unreadable mask. Just as suddenly he released her and walked to the switch, dropping the room into semi-darkness. The only illumination came from a small lamp in the corner.

      With deliberate slowness, Murdock removed the last stud and shrugged out of his shirt, coming to stand in front of Dominique.

      "Logan?" Her eyes were questioning. Her hands rested against his chest, slowly easing upward.

      Murdock skillfully removed her hands from his chest and unfastened her shirt, holding her eyes with his as he maneuvered each button. Gently he parted the garment, taking a long appreciative look at the luscious curves beneath. He heard Dominique sigh and captured her gaze again. With tormenting slowness he slid the garment from her shoulders, allowing it to fall with a soft whish to the floor.

      Dominique was breathtakingly beautiful. Her body was exquisite. Long slender legs, gently rounded hips, small waist. Delicate arms, full, firm breasts, screaming to be touched and fondled. She had the body every man dreams of, lusts after.

      Murdock gripped her shoulders and pulled her against him, his mouth covering hers masterfully. Dominique's hands, trapped between them, splayed out across his chest. He gave her no time to react, to breathe. His lips and tongue devoured every crevice of her mouth until she strained against him, desperate for air. Murdock could feel her nipples harden against his chest, her body filling every curve of his own. Her nearness excited him, infused him with wanton desire, and he gave it free rein.

      Finally, but with deliberate slowness, he released her, a faint smile touching his lips. Dominique gulped in breaths of air, her chest heaving violently. Murdock could see the uncertainty in her eyes, though she made an admirable attempt to disguise it as longing.

      Logan Ross returned the invitation he read in the black pools of her eyes and lifted her in his arms. The distance to the large bed was covered in a few steps, and Murdock gently laid her upon the covers.

      "Oh, Logan, I've wanted this moment to happen ever since you helped me out of the pool," Dominique said softly.

      "As I recall the incident, you were in rather a rush to dismiss me."

      Dominique shook her head, her arms snaking up around his neck. "I was frightened of you," she replied.

      "Of me?" Murdock asked, cocking an eyebrow.

      Dominique nodded. "The attraction was so strong, so overwhelming. I didn't know what to do."

      Like a bitch in heat doesn't know what to do, Murdock thought. "Do you know what to do now, Dominique? Or should IŠinstruct you?"

      If evil were a solid substance, Murdock could have sliced up the amount oozing from Dominique's eyes.

      "Yes, please," she rasped, her head thrown back seductively. "Teach me, Logan." Her arms pulled him toward her, ready to reel him in, but Murdock wasn't quite ready to capitulate.

      Oh, he'd teach her, all right. Probably not the lesson she was counting on, but he'd definitely teach her. "The first rule, my dear, is to move slowly. Take your time and enjoy life'sŠpleasures."

      With a half grin, he broke from her embrace and stood up. Nonchalantly he removed the rest of his clothes, watching her face intently. The light was behind him, allowing him a clear view of Dominique's delicate features, but the same light kept his face and form in near shadow. He was amused to see her pout, straining to see him more clearly in the dim light.

      Murdock walked toward the bed, feeling like a lion stalking his prey. Dominique, too, was reminiscent of a feline--sleek, treacherous, and deadly. It was going to be an interesting encounter, one he'd have to keep complete control over if he were going to survive.

      Dominique waited eagerly as Logan Ross joined her. Her arms reached for him as he stretched out beside her, pulling his mouth hungrily to her now. He allowed her to explore, to taste, to devour, while he began to familiarize himself with the soft curves of her body. A slender leg draped over his thigh as Dominique pressed herself even closer.

      "Oh, Logan, I knew it would be like this," she breathed in his ear, her lips nibbling at his earlobe.

      "So did I," he replied, thankful that the shadow kept the smirk on his face obscured to Dominique.

      Dominique's ersatz passion was mounting. Her delicate hands roamed frantically over his shoulders and back, her hips ground into his in her need. "Take me now, Logan. Please," she pleaded, her nails digging into his shoulder.

      No man on earth could have held Dominique in his arms and not desired her, and Murdock was no exception. But Murdock was a man of very particular preference where women were concerned. This foray into the delight of carnal knowledge was nothing more than two people having sex. Murdock preferred to make love. But when a luscious, passionate, beautiful woman was in his arms, he could make the most of the situation.

      "Take me now."

      Far be it from Logan Ross to refuse a lady's earnest request. With a swiftness born of long years living on the edge, Murdock granted her wish.



      Quickly, unexpectedly, he rolled over, parting her thighs with his knee and entering her with a hard, sure thrust. The penetration caught Dominique off guard. She stared up at Murdock, wide-eyed for a brief moment, then quickly exhaled with the appropriate moan of satisfaction.

      H.M. grinned mentally. So far so good. He was still on top of things. Uh, both literally and figuratively. Now it was time to get down to details. Miss Conre needed a few lessons on lovemaking.

      Slowly Murdock pulled back. His hands had grasped her wrists and held them now, pinned to the pillow on either side of her head. He started at her forehead, kissing the soft curls around her face, the throbbing softness of her temples, the sensitive jawline and ears. His lips explored every inch, moving relentlessly downward.

      Trapped beneath the weight of him, with her hands held in his viselike grip, all she could do was submit to the warm lips and wet tongue that explored every throbbing inch of her.

      Murdock continued his journey along her neck, drawing the silken skin into his mouth with a gentle tug. Dominique jerked beneath him, and he smiled.

      Sliding his body down the warm, soft length of Dominique, his mouth discovered new territory and he began to examine it leisurely. First the hollows and ridges of the collar bone, then beyond. Dominique tensed. He could feel the heat of her body increasing.

      Deliberately, he kissed the soft, firm skin above, around and below her breast, carefully avoiding the rosy tip. With slowness designed to torment, he turned his attention to the other firm mound, licking, nuzzling, toying with the nerve endings like some demonic surgeon.

      Murdock knew the exact moment when Dominique stopped pretending passion and gave herself over to the sensations he was creating.

      He slid down further now, tasting the delights there, savoring both the physical pleasure it afforded him and the mental rush of knowing that he had broken through Dominique's wall of stone.

      She was writhing beneath him, growing more desperate for release. She had opened herself to him. She was his to take. But he wanted to prolong this moment, wanted to keep Dominique off guard.

      As his mouth moved even lower, he heard her cry out. Her hands tried to pull free from his grasp, but he only tightened his hold. Her body strained up against him, eager, ready. He ignored her desperation and reversed his direction.

      He nibbled at the underside of her breast causing her to arch herself toward him. Finally he allowed himself to taste the rosy tip that he'd avoided before. Dominique moaned as he drew the sensitive nipple into his mouth.

      He knew the effect it would have on Dominique. What he wasn't prepared for was his own response. She tasted sweet, unexpectedly fresh, and the combination proved to be overwhelming. He flicked his tongue over the end, feeling the nipple harden against it. His blood caught fire, and the world vanished. There was no mission, no game, no victor. Only two people whose bodies craved each other.

      His lips released their prize and tasted the delights of its companion. Dominique whimpered, her desperation evident. His own could no longer be ignored, and he abandoned the tasty mounds for more practical matters.

      Penetration was swift and searing. Though he still held her wrists pinned in his hands, Dominique's thrusts were as forceful as his own. He rode with her on the waves, driving in deeper and deeper, soaring on the exquisite feeling of her softness and heat surrounding him. The heat peaked, exploded, and flooded over them both.

      Spent and exhausted, Murdock collapsed, his body pressing Dominique into the firm bed. They lay quietly, until their breathing slowed. Dominique was first to speak.

      "Logan, I think I underestimated you," she breathed softly, her fingers moving slowly in circles on his shoulder.

      Shifting his weight onto his elbows, Murdock raised his head and gazed down at her, his mouth held in a half smile. "Don't feel too badly. Most people do."

      Dominique held his gaze, uncertain how to proceed now. "I thought at first you were like all the others, a man with time on his hands and money to spend, looking for a carefree frolic with any pretty trinket that caught your eye."

      Murdock grinned. "And now?"

      Dominique laced her fingers around his neck and pulled him toward her, her tongue flicking over her lips enticingly. She tasted fully of him again, then, "Now I think I've found someone I can truly respect, admire, andŠsomeone I can trust."

      It was all Murdock could do to keep from laughing out loud. The bitch. The impish little bitch. She no more trusted him than he did her. In fact, so far she'd told him nothing of value at all, and he felt reasonably certain she never would. "Trust is a rare commodity, my dear. When one finally grasps it, it should be treated with respect." He bent forward and kissed her cheek gently. He would rather have shaken her teeth loose.

      "Oh, Logan, I feel so secure, so protected here with you."

      Murdock rolled onto his side, cradling the luscious form beside him. Sure you do, lady. With a sigh, he rested his head on her soft dark curls. Well, he'd learned absolutely nothing yet about Operation Undertow from the lovely Dominique. But had had discovered quite a few other valuable bits of information. Nothing he could pass on to Hannibal and the guys, but...He grinned inwardly. "Relax, my sweet, for tonight I will be your shield against reality," he whispered, his lips seeking hers once more. Eat your heart out, Faceman.

      Murdock hovered on the edge of sleep. His body found the idea irresistibly inviting. His mind, however, remained sharply aware of the need to stay awake and, more importantly, mentally alert. This was no carefree roll in the hay with some willing partner. This was hand-to-hand combat with a deadly, cunning enemy. Well, he mused, a smile lighting his eyes, maybe it was more like mouth-to-mouth combat.

      Slowly he rolled over onto his side and gazed at the sleeping woman lying beside him. He'd lost count of how many times he and Dominique had made love, lost track of how many ploys he'd countered, how many surprises he'd received.

      Dominique was an incredible woman in bed. The quintessential Madonna/whore combination. She knew every way to please a man, and she had used them all tonight. There had been several times when the great Logan Ross had come close to giving himself over totally to her. Murdock had known many women in his time, but none more accomplished in the art of love than Dominique. She used every weapon at her disposal-- lips, arms, hands, tongue. All in turn explored every erogenous zone, leaving no stone unturned.

      Dominique stirred beside him, and Murdock gazed appreciatively at the luscious form. The face and figure of Botticelli's Venus. The mind and soul of Cruella deVil.

      So far Dominique had proved to be a disappointment in the information area, though. She'd told him a great deal about Charles Jourdan, but none of it pertained to Operation Undertow. She had, however, revealed much more to Murdock than she was aware of.

      Ten years in a mental ward had given Murdock an insight into human nature that few people, even shrinks, ever acquired. Dominique may not have given him much verbally, but he knew unquestionably that she was more in this little scenario than a pampered plaything for Jourdan.

      Murdock's first task after this night was over was to share his suspicions with Hannibal. If Murdock's intuition was right, Dominique might be a bigger player in this game than anyone figured.

      Dominique snuggled against his side, and Murdock grinned wickedly. Maybe it was time to awaken the lady again. It was only two a.m. The night was still young.

      Reaching out, he rested his hand on her thigh and caressed it, slowly trailing his hand upward to the curve of her hip and along her side. She quivered in her sleep, responding to his touch. Briefly he thought perhaps he should allow her to sleep but quickly discarded the idea. This was no lady. The role of considerate lover was not an option here.

      With a smile worthy of James Bond at his most lecherous, Murdock aroused Dominique.



      The first faint rays of morning were touching the large room when Dominique awoke. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. It wasn't her normal behavior in situations like these, but then this wasn't a normal situation. And Logan Ross was not a normal man.

      What he was, she'd decided, was a very skilled lover, a very passionate man, and a very good secret agent. He'd told her nothing, and she knew little more now about his reasons for being here than she had earlier.

      However, she smiled sweetly, she had learned one very important thing about Monsieur Logan Ross. He was the most exciting lover she'd ever encountered.

      Rolling onto her back, she stretched languidly, awakening each muscle and remembering in vivid detail the events of the night. She could close her eyes and feel again the weight of his body on hers, the scorching moment when their bodies first joined, and the explosion of fulfillment that followed.

      Logan Ross. Who was he? Was that his real name? Last night it mattered a great deal. This morning Dominique didn't give a damn.

      Logan was sleeping peacefully beside her, and she positioned herself to get a better view of his long form.

      He wasn't the most handsome lover she'd ever had, nor the most muscular. But he had given her back something she thought she'd lost forever: the ability to become fully aroused, to enjoy lovemaking. Over the years she had come to view sex as a tool, a means of getting and keeping what she wanted. But last night Logan had touched and brought to life a part of her she thought had died.

      Her eyes caressed his bare shoulders and chest, creating shock waves of longing in her veins. She wanted the night to go on forever. She longed to lie in Logan's arms and forget the rest of life's sordid problems.

      And to think, upon their first meeting she had dismissed him as insignificant. Oh, he was attractive enough to receive an appreciative glance, but Dominique had more important things on her mind. Her association with Charles these last six years had kept her mind and body too busy to dally with some worldly playboy.

      Dominique smiled now at the absurd first impression. Logan was no playboy, though he played the part of one to perfection. No, Monsieur Ross had a harder edge to him, one he'd honed to a razor sharpness. The fact that he concealed it under the languid guise of a wealthy ne'er-do-well attested to his consummate skill.

      Consummate seemed to describe every aspect of Logan Ross, Dominique decided. The consummate actor, the consummate agent and, dear God, the consummate lover. She thought of those long legs wrapped around her and squirmed with longing.

      He'd been so masterful, so dominating. Each time she thought she had him in her power, he'd turn the tables and wrest control away. He toyed with her, teased her, allowing her just so much leeway then suddenly, unexpectedly, yanking her back into his control.

      Logan had played with her, tormented her unmercifully, until she could no longer resist the exquisite demands of his lips and hands. Throwing caution to the wind, she had surrendered to his passion, gifting him with her body and soul.

      His early advances had been designed to shock her, to keep her off guard. Dominique was experienced enough to recognize the ploy. But what she hadn't anticipated was the profound undercurrent of tenderness and gentleness she had found in Logan Ross.

      It was a combination she'd never encountered before, and it proved to be her undoing.

      Arms pinned to the bed, Dominique had briefly feared a rough, painful encounter with the mysterious Logan. But instead, she found consideration and caring. While he held her in a viselike grip, every touch, every kiss, was designed to arouse, to pleasure, to excite, but never to harm. It was that fact, coupled with the incredible skill of her lover, that caught her blood and emotions on fire.

      The rest of the night had passed in a hot, steamy haze. She could feel him touching her still, those gentle, coaxing hands, the lips that seemed to draw the long-buried parts of Dominique to the surface and breathe life into them again.

      She could still feel him deep inside, hot, hard, and oh, so satisfying.

      Daylight filled the room as Dominique continued to gaze at Logan Ross. Her body craved fulfillment at his hands again, but it was Dominique's mind that ruled her, not her emotions. Charles would be awaiting a report, and he wouldn't be pleased by her all-night visit with Logan.

      Quietly and with as little movement as possible, Dominique eased out of bed and picked up a terry robe. As she moved to the door, she glanced back at Logan and her body reacted violently to him.

      With any luck, Charles wouldn't kill him for several days. But then, Logan had not given her any new information and that meant that Charles might just kill him on general principles. Just as long as he didn't ask her to pull the trigger. After last night, she didn't relish the idea of killing Logan. At least, not until they had another chance to spend the night together.

      The living room was silent as Dominique crept across the rug, gathering up her scattered belongings and replaying yet again the sweet discoveries of last night. "Goodbye, Logan," she whispered as she reached the front door. Silently, like a shadow in the night, Dominique disappeared.



      The faint tick of the front door being pulled to reached Murdock's ears, and he let out a sigh of relief. Thank God she was gone. Thank God he was still alive! You never knew with these evil, wicked, mean and bad and nasty types.

      He had no doubts that the fair Dominique had enjoyed their night of passion as much as he had. He also knew that Dominique could not be trusted for an instant and, like a spider, could easily have killed her mate after their intimate encounter.

      Rising from the rumpled bed, Murdock went directly to the shower, his mind focused on the upcoming day's events.

      He'd have to tell Hannibal about Dominique. She was a bigger part of this than they'd imagined. It bothered him, though, that he hadn't been able to coax the needed information from between Dominique's lips. His reflection in the mirror smiled back at him. Though he had coaxed other stimulating and satisfying things from her lips. And her hands and herŠ

      Forcing his thoughts back to matters at hand, he turned on the shower and explored their options for today. Hannibal probably had a lead from the raid on Jourdan's office last night. Face would probablyŠFace! Oh boy, oh boy. He'd nearly forgotten about the lieutenant locked out there on the balcony. Faceyman was going to be some kind of upset too. This would scar his psyche for life.

      Who would have thought it? There sat Face, wet and cold, locked on a porch all night while Howling Mad Murdock wrestled between the sheets with the luscious Dominique. The thought was too amusing, and Murdock burst into giggles that echoed loudly in the shower stall.

      His amusement lingered while he shaved and dressed, ending only when he heard Frankie knock on the bedroom door. With a wicked grin in the mirror, he winked then moved his features into an expression of innocence. He slipped out the door to see a shivering, livid Templeton Peck glaring at him.

      "YouŠyou left me outŠthereŠto be rained onŠwhile you were in thereŠwithŠherŠ"

      Stretching lazily, Murdock quipped, "What are you complaining about? At least you got some sleep. I was up all night!"

      Face attacked.

      
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