Relentless Pursuit by Kathy Ivan Page B

no intention of letting Dubshenko win—again.  Marching down the hallway, he threw open the door to his grandmother's room, going straight for her closet.  Rummaging through the hangers, he found nothing he thought Jennifer could wear.  He turned to the dresser and paused.  Did he really want to be pawing through his maman's drawers?  He really didn't want to see any of her unmentionables.
    Right.  Suck it up, big man .
    He skipped the first two, starting with the third in the dresser.  T-shirts.  Those would work.  A huge grin split his face as he read a couple of the sayings.  Picking out two he knew would scandalize Jennifer, he put the rest back and went on searching.  Bingo!  The next drawer held yoga pants with drawstring waistbands.  His grandmother was a couple of sizes smaller than Jennifer, but they were stretch material—they'd have to do for now.
    Okay, there was no way on Earth Jennifer was wearing his maman's granny panties.  He shuddered at the thought.  She'd make do with the pair she wore now or go commando.
    Rein it in, big guy .  The thought of her bare from the waist down definitely got a rise out of him.  Literally.  Or maybe with her in those yoga pants with the string tied in an itty-bitty bow.  One good tug and they'd pool around her ankles and…
    “Detective?”  Jennifer's voice behind him had him slamming the drawer, holding the two pair of yoga pants in one hand, along with the t-shirts.
    “Here.”  He shoved a pair of the pants and a shirt at her in a jumbled mess, and she grabbed onto them before the hit the floor.  “Put these on and let's get out of here.  We've already wasted enough time.  Dubshenko's already looking for us.  You can change in here.”
    Stepping back into the hallway he closed the door, and strode back to his room shoving the extra shirt and pants into his backpack.  He added his backup piece, a .38 snub nose and extra ammo.  Grabbing up the pack and his keys, he headed for the living room.  He gave a quick knock on her door and mumbled, “I'll be in the living room, let's go.”
    In less than a minute Jennifer crept into the living room tugging at the T-shirt.  The clothes were tight on her as he'd suspected they would be, though the shirt was a halfway decent fit, especially across her full breasts.  She definitely had a gorgeous rack.  Luckily, the pants were Capri style, so they hit below the knee. Which was okay, nobody would look twice at that.  Her bare feet, on the other hand, might be a problem.
    “Crap.  I forgot about shoes.  Lemme see if maman has anything that might work.  Wish I could take you over to Max and Theresa's place.  Her stuff would probably fit you better.”  He kept talking while he rummaged through his gran's closet again.  Luckily, there was a pair of decorated flip-flops, beaded with the gaudiest rhinestones and fake flowers he'd ever seen.
    “Here you go.”  He tried to hide the smirk threatening to pull his lips upward, but it was a losing battle at the horrified look on her face.  She quickly masked it, and fluttered her eyelashes at him in a blatantly exaggerated mock flirt.
    “Why thank you so much, Prince Charming.  What lovely slippers.”  She slid them onto her feet wincing a bit when the cuts met the rubberized soles, but never said a word.  She'd been a real trooper about the whole thing, actually, Remy thought.  Battered, bruised and bleeding when she'd come into the station, she'd never once complained about her own plight. She was too worried about her brother, Carlo.  He spared a quick thought for him, knowing Captain Hilliard would do everything humanly possible to find him and keep him safe—if he was still alive—and that was a big if since Dubshenko was involved. 
    “I'm as ready as I'll ever be.”  She pulled her long hair back in one hand before adding, “Wait.  Have you got a piece of string, or something I can tie this back with?  If we're going to be on the