by Freya Barker
Luna shakes her head. “No. He said lots, but nothing about that investigation. We were in the interview room from eleven this morning on. We never even took a break, just ate a sandwich in front of the suspect. I came here right after. Blackfoot disappeared into his office.”
I run my fingers through my hair and lean my head back. Fuck. The son of a bitch had been out of reach all day and hadn’t returned any of my messages. Last call I made was ten minutes ago, right before Bella called, and the dispatcher said he’d just left the office. He’s avoiding me.
“What’s going on?” Luna wants to know.
“Blackfoot’s doing his maverick routine again. Last night we found out from Kerry that her last order from The Gilded Feather was in the back of her car when she was run off the road. Something she’d mentioned to Keith last week already, but he misinterpreted and failed to mention it to us.” Luna rolls her eyes at that, but I can’t quite catch what she mutters under her breath. It sounds like typical. Ignoring it, I continue, “It’s clear he didn’t mention anything to Ella about the box. She ended up contacting James after the bastard hung up on her. Made it very clear she wants to be there before they start messing with Kerry’s car. Wants to make sure proper protocol is followed in gathering any evidence. She has a point, too,” I admit.
“You think this is the package referred to in the messages?” Luna points out what has been on my mind.
“It’s possible. In any event, it makes it all the more important to make sure we dot the i’s and cross the t’s. These kinds of cases can stand or fall on the most minute detail. Dealing with a task force, working within overlapping jurisdictions, it can cloud the waters. I’m afraid I don’t know what bug crawled up Blackfoot’s ass, but I can guess he’s gonna claim there is no evidence to support anything other than the hit-and-run at this point in time.” I slam my fist on the table in frustration. “Killer is, he’s got a point, too.” I push myself up and pick up my phone. The food order at Rice Monkeys should be ready. “Heading out. I’ve gotta pick up some dinner and check on Kerry. I haven’t had sleep since two nights ago, I’m beat.”
“What can I do?” Luna asks, standing up as well.
“Well, this case just made it to the top of the priority list, and I’ve got Jasper going back over the financials, phone records, and credit card bills of everyone potentially involved: Kerry, White Rabbit Books, and Bruce Willoughs. I want him to look for anything that might be connected. Whatever he can find floating around the Internet. He’s gonna have to be creative. I’d like for you to head over to the forensics lab and see if Blackfoot is there with the Crime Investigations Unit. If he is, stick close to him. I at least want our asses covered.”
Luna’s lips tighten in a straight line. “You’re gonna owe me big, boss. First you stick me in a room with that man for almost an entire day, and when I can finally get away from him, you shove me right back at him.”
For some reason, Luna’s never been able to stand Blackfoot. Not from the very first time they met. Of course, Keith had been his usual cocky self, instantly alienating my agent with his taunts about her small size. It’s just what he does—tease. Luna’s just not very good at being the subject. I tried telling him once to lay off, but that only seemed to encourage him.
I have to admit, he’s starting to really get on my nerves, too.
“Don’t worry.” She stops me with her hand up when I open my mouth. “You get some sleep. I’ll get on it.” I snap my mouth shut and nod in affirmation.
As much as I feel like an ass for putting her in his line of fire again, I’ve got to get some food and some sleep. In that order.
ARMED WITH TWO BAGS of food, I take the cutoff up to Kerry’s place, pulling the Expedition up beside Bella’s car.
“You’re here. Finally,” Bella says, waiting in the front door.
“Miss me?” I tease, walking up to her.
“More like starving. I heard you pull up,” she explains, as she takes the bags from my hands and leads the way inside, my tired ass is dragging behind.
Kerry is nowhere to be seen, but I hear the faint sound of her voice coming from the back of the house. “Who’s with her?” I ask, as I start moving in the direction of her voice.
“Jesus, chill, Damian,” Bella warns, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the small kitchen. “You look like you’re about to storm into her bedroom and make yourself look like an idiot. No one’s with her—she’s on the damn phone.”
I let out a deep sigh, releasing the tension in my muscles. Long fucking forty-eight hours. I sit my ass down on a kitchen stool and watch Bella pull down plates and take out silverware. “Thanks for hanging around with her, sweetie.” Bella throws me a little smile.
“Wasn’t a hardship. She’s a nice girl, but you may wanna tone down the whole caveman spiel, brother. This is not some insipid, helpless female. She ditched the last guy who tried to put a tight leash on her. Pulled herself up by the bootstraps and built herself a good business, a good life.”
“I know she did, Bella,” I bite off irritated. “I also know in the past two days she almost got run over once and not twenty-four hours later got run off the road. The difference is I wasn’t there to protect her the second time, and look what happened.” With my elbows on the counter, I drop my head and press the heels of my hands into my eyes. What I would give for some sleep.
“I just don’t want her hurt,” Bella says in a soothing voice, her hand ruffling my hair.
I let out a dry chuckle. “Believe me—I don’t either.” I lift my head and look at my sister. “Not by me...” I confirm before adding, “...and not by anyone else.”
I can hear Kerry’s soft, padding footsteps coming down the hall and am on my feet when she walks into the kitchen. No pajamas this time, but stretchy black pants and an oversized shirt with a wide neck that slipped off her shoulder.
“Hey.” Her voice is soft as she steps up to me, putting a hand on my chest and tilting her head back a little to look me in the eye. “You look tired.”
“I am,” I admit, holding her hand firmly to my chest when she tries to pull it away. “Nothing a little food and a few hours with my eyes closed won’t cure.” And you tucked safely in my arms, I add in my head. “Did you get any sleep?”
She shrugs her shoulders, causing her shirt to slip down a little farther, showing more skin and confirming my suspicion she is not wearing a bra. Despite my fatigue, my body instantly snaps alert, and I want badly to put my hands on her. The clearing of a throat behind us reminds me my sister is in the room. So instead of wrapping Kerry close—like I want to—I lift her hand off my chest and press a kiss in her palm. The soft tilt of her lips, and the touch of heat shimmering in her eyes when my mouth touches her, prompts me to sneak a little taste of her skin with the tip of my tongue. I almost forget about Bella again as I watch those silvery gray eyes flare and turn dark.
“Come and get it, guys.”
Reluctantly, I let Kerry go as she pulls away and turns to my sister, who’s already got a head start on dinner.
ODDLY ENOUGH, AFTER dinner and the dishes are cleared, Kerry doesn’t object when Bella heads back to my place, and I stay right where I am. Doesn’t even question it.
“Why don’t you go lie down,” she says with a hesitant smile. “You look like you’re about to fall over. Take my bed. I’ll make myself comfortable here.” She waves her hand at the couch.
Like hell.
“I’m not gonna spend time arguing with you, Gypsy, but the only way I’m taking your bed is if you’re in it with me. I’m grabbing a quick shower.” I don’t wait for an answer. I simply grab my bag from the hallway, where Bella dropped it earlier, and head to the bathroom.
I make the shower really quick, grabbing a towel from the shelf and pulling on a clean pair of boxer briefs, thank you, Bella, and a shirt. I stuff the rest of my things back in the bag and tote it into the bedroom, where I stop in my tracks at the sight of Kerry standing beside the bed, back in her r
atty old pajamas.
“Thank Christ,” slips out of my mouth, and I watch the corner of her mouth twitch. “Get in, Kerry,” I tell her, moving to the other side of the bed and she does as instructed—but with an eyebrow raised in protest.
She rolls on her side facing the edge of the mattress, and I curve myself around her from behind, wrapping one arm around her middle and slipping the other under her head. I don’t miss the deep sigh she blows out as she relaxes against me.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I mumble with my face buried in her messy hair. “But despite what my body tells you...” I slightly press my erection in her backside. “...I just need to keep you close so I can sleep.”
Kerry’s hands come up to cover my arm, pulling it tighter against her. “That’s okay,” she mumbles, fading fast. “I need you close so I can feel safe.”
CHAPTER 15
Kerry
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake up and find myself alone in bed. Judging by the bright light coming in, I’d say a fair guess would be sometime after eight. I lift my head to glance at my alarm clock but find it facedown on my nightstand. Instinctively, I reach out to set it straight, but my hand stills somewhere midair, only to retreat back under the covers with the rest of me. I quickly dismiss the nagging pang of guilt and snuggle deeper in the warmth and scent Damian’s body left behind.
I’m slowly sinking back to sleep when angry voices shoot me wide-awake again. Two men’s voices. Throwing my covers back, I quickly swing my legs out of bed, only to catch myself with a hand on the nightstand before I fall face-first on the floor. Dizzy. I take a few deep breaths to clear my head and this time proceed to move through the room a little more cautiously. By the sound of it, things are quickly escalating as I pad down the hallway.
“Fuck you, Gomez. Don’t you talk to me about not following protocol. You’re standing half-naked in the house of a damn suspect in this investigation. At the very least a witness. Get off your high horse.” I recognize the voice of Detective Blackfoot, and the moment I round the corner, I see him; toe-to-toe with indeed a half-naked Damian. Gee gawds...somewhere along the line, he donned his jeans but lost his shirt. I’m not sure which view I enjoy more, the muscular legs and high, tight rear end or the broad, solid-looking back. Mesmerized by the sight of a tattoo curving along his spine before spreading wide to span his shoulders, I slowly walk up behind him.
“Nothing’s going on here, man.” I watch as Damian runs his hand through his hair, still sounding tired. Obviously not buying into it, Blackfoot rolls his eyes, catching sight of me standing behind Damian. But before he can say anything, Damian speaks again, “I’m just looking after her. As a friend.”
I’m not sure what the heck is going on, or why he is saying that, but I can’t hold back the incredulous snort at his blatant lie. I mean, a friend doesn’t play tonsil hockey with his tongue down your throat or rub his cock against your ass as he cuddles in bed with you, right? Blackfoot sports a smirk as he lowers his eyes, but Damian looks downright miserable as he slowly turns to find me behind him.
I choose to ignore him and focus on the detective instead. “I’m a suspect? When the hell did that happen? When someone drove me off the road?” Blackfoot’s guilty eyes flit to Damian before meeting mine.
“For what it’s worth, I happen to think you’re an innocent bystander, but until we have evidence to clear you—”
“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?” I cut him off sharply. “Innocent until proven guilty? Seems to me you’re doing the opposite.”
“In a court of law that stands,” Blackfoot explains patiently, only serving to piss me off more. “But in an investigation, it works the other way around.”
I wave his explanations away. “Whatever—I’ve done nothing wrong. Investigate away.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Cut the crap, Keith,” Damian pipes up for the first time. “You’re full of shit. First of all, you’re pissed because I sent Luna to keep an eye on you, and secondly, you came here to try and draw her into playing your game. Play all you want, but leave her out of it.”
“Hold on a minute. First of all, as my friend...” I emphasize the word with air quotation marks as I throw a dirty look Damian’s way, “...you have absolutely no right to speak for me. What game?” I demand to know. Blackfoot quickly looks to Damian—who glares back with a barely perceptible shake of his head—before apologetically shrugging his shoulders.
“Talk to the man,” Keith says, before backing out of the door. “I’m sure he’ll explain.”
“So explain.” I turn to Damian, who is shutting the door, my hands planted on my hips. His face, when he looks at me, is lined with worry and fatigue. Without saying a word, he walks past me to the kitchen. When I follow him in, he’s pouring coffee in two mugs, handing one to me and taking a sip from the other.
“The box is gone,” he finally says, taking me completely by surprise. I had obviously mentioned the box Kim had put in my trunk when Keith Blackfoot came to the hospital to get my statement. Now it was gone? “As soon as Keith left the hospital, he radioed the officer left at the scene to stay put until the flatbed truck arrived. Apparently, it took them half the night to haul the wreckage up and tow it off to the lab for the forensics team to go over. He got hung up on another case, and by the time he managed to get to your car last night, the box was missing.”
“Maybe someone took it after they towed it there?” I offer, wondering what might’ve happened.
“Not likely,” Damian answers immediately. “Twenty-four-hour camera surveillance, guard dogs, and a twelve-foot-high electric security fence make that doubtful. He thinks it fell out of the wreck. The back end is crumpled and the rear hatch was folded open.”
“So why didn’t they go look?” I point out, finding it rather obvious, but once again he counters me.
“It’s a fifty foot, or thereabouts, drop in total from the road to the valley below. Your car got hung up on an outcrop about thirty feet down, which means there’s at least another twenty below. It’s steep, you can’t just send a guy down there on a rope. It’ll take some preparation. I’m sure they’ll start searching at some point today. But that brings me to the next part,” he says, cupping my shoulders with his large hands. A shiver runs down my arms and back at his touch. “Keith wants you to act as if the box is recovered and back in your possession. He wants to have you bring in a dummy box and place it in your storage room.”
“He wants me to be bait. Or at least my store,” I recognize accurately, gathering from Damian’s nod.
“Exactly, which is why I told him to go to hell. His reasoning is that if somehow, whoever ran you off the road recovered the box, they would have no interest in the decoy in your storage room. But if they haven’t, they would more than likely make an attempt to reclaim it. That might put you and your girl, Marya, in danger...again,” he adds adamantly.
I see his point, I really do, but part of me just wants this mess to be over. Cowering in the shadows until these guys are caught is not sitting right with me. It’s not my style anymore. I’d rather actively make things happen.
“I guess we’ll have to hope the police find the box soon then,” I conclude. “It would save me from making a decision.”
Damian’s nostrils flare when I use the word me as the decision maker, but I want to get my point across.
“Yes, we will.”
DAMIAN
I’m counting on them finding the damn box. I don’t buy into the possibility the guy came back, slid his ass down the cliff in one piece, only to climb back up, a heavy box under one arm, and all that under the watchful eye of a police officer. And I don’t want to even consider Kerry putting herself out there, so I’m just pleased with the prospect of a slowly progressing search due to an interdepartmental tug-of-war. I don’t bother telling her about the political and jurisdictional positioning that only serves to slow down the investigation at this point. I pr
efer to give myself some time to deter her from letting Keith set her up as bait.
“Look,” I softly implore and wait for her to look at me before I continue. “I didn’t mean that.” What I say and what I do are usually well thought through and calculated, but this woman is getting me all twisted up. The knowledge I probably hurt her makes me feel bad. Guilty.
“Didn’t mean what?” Her look of feigned confusion is in stark contrast to the stiffening of her shoulders under my touch.
“What you heard me say to Keith. That you’re nothing more than a friend. It was a knee-jerk reaction and it’s not true. You know it’s not true.” I don’t stop her when she turns out of my grip and walks over to the sink, sets her cup down, and turns back to me.
“Truthfully?” she says, her chin lifted up and a deep blush high on her cheeks. “I believe you didn’t mean it, but it confused me. Just like everything else in my life is confusing right now. So if you don’t mind,” she drops her gaze and prepares to move past me, “I’m just going to have a shower and sort out my head.”
As she passes, I manage to grab her hand and pull her toward me, locking her in my arms. I ignore her stiff body and bend my head down to her shoulder, turning my face into her hair. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. “I’m confused myself. At odds. Between trying to get to the bottom of this investigation with my eyes wide-open and not able to think about anything but losing myself in you...Fuck, yeah, I feel completely conflicted.”
Kerry reacts by softening in my arms and slipping hers around my waist. “I understand,” I feel more than hear her say; her breath stroking the skin on my chest.
I understand.
I had no idea how powerful two simple words could be. And the kicker is, I believe she does. Emotions...feelings...they’ve always come second to me. Easily pushed aside by the job: logic, duty, and protocol. This is new territory—uncharted. The inability to control these feelings, to set them aside, is a completely alien experience.
