Hitch

by Anne Conley

  Sparks fired through her, starting in her belly and spreading through her chest until she felt like she was on fire. If all that happened with just the brush of his lips …

  Oh, sweet Jesus …

  Amber looked over his shoulder to find the rookie on his phone and the arson investigator squatting down, both had their backs to her. She couldn’t do this with Dex. But his massive hands were still tangled in her bun—which was about to give up the fight—and his erection was pressing against her thigh. Her hormones took a step forward to remind her exactly how long it had been since a man had held her like this.

  Exactly never.

  Amber pressed up on her toes and flattened her mouth against his, willing him to do this and do it now. Quick. While no one was looking. Yes. She lost her damn mind for a moment and forgot all the reasons she wasn’t going to do this, and it felt—

  Fucking fantastic.

  His tongue did things to her mouth that should have been illegal.

  Amber pressed against him in a wanton display of lust. It had been so long since anybody had wanted her this way, had pursued her like Dex did, or had made any sort of moves on her, she was at a loss as to what the appropriate reactions were.

  So she wound her hands around his neck, tangled her fingers in his hair, and held on for the ride.

  Dex kept his hands in her hair while he plundered her mouth, but his pelvis pressed against hers. Deliciously. She felt his erection as he wedged it between her legs, right where she wanted it, notched as if they were made to go together. With a whimper, Amber pressed her legs together, trapping it between hers, which only made his attack more insistent.

  When he broke the kiss, she realized what she was doing and tried to take a step back, but the car was still there.

  He was breathing hard, but his words were clear. “Come back to my house with me.”

  Clarity dawned on Amber like being doused with a bucket of cold water. “I think it’s best if we meet up at the station.”

  “Over dinner,” he begged.

  “Coffee,” she capitulated.

  “Fine.” Dex kissed her again, a lingering yet way more chaste kiss than before. “Coffee this afternoon.”

  Wordless, she pulled out her phone and handed it to him. “Do you need someone to bring keys to your house?”

  “Yeah.” He punched in a bunch of things on her phone and handed it back to her. He was smirking at her, and the rookie assigned to the tape for another two hours was watching them. The young woman was practically drooling at Dex as if she’d never seen a hot guy before, and Amber felt an indescribable possessiveness that just pure pissed her off.

  She was so not in control of this situation. Part of her was terrified of what would happen if her boss or IA found out she was seeing Dex everywhere and kissing him and stuff. Another part of her loved every minute of it.

  As she watched him saunter across the street, still in his underwear, she murmured to herself, “I am in so much trouble.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dex got dressed—after Miriam brought him a spare key and an egg sandwich—and went into the office of Pierce Securities, which was now under construction. Simon and Quinten Pierce owned the entire building and were updating the floor of office suites the firm was in to expand it and put in some new offices. Dex wasn’t the one complaining. Even sharing an office with Quinten was still more space than he’d had at the station. But the private sector was a different animal, and security concerns had business booming.

  Simon had more work than he could take in, so he could afford to pick and choose. He’d gotten beyond the cheating spouses and stuff and was taking more interesting cases. But Dex couldn’t figure out what had possessed the guy to take the case he was working on.

  He knocked on Simon’s door, intent on asking. Maybe he knew something Dex didn’t, something that would shed some light on what he was looking for.

  “Hey, man. Got a minute?”

  Simon was a nice-looking guy, a few years older than himself, who was always dressed up in designer suits and more often than not smelled faintly of scotch. It had gotten better lately, but Dex knew this job stressed him out sometimes and a while back he’d been worried for his friend.

  “Sure, what’s up? I heard you had an interesting morning.” Miriam must have told Simon why he was late today, since she was the only one who knew. He’d texted her right after he’d input his number into Amber’s phone and called himself so he now had her number.

  The leather chair squeaked as Simon swiveled around to face Dex, who lowered himself into the chair across from him.

  “Tell me about this case. What makes you think it’s not a cheater?”

  Simon blinked at Dex, then shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess it was a hunch. Why? Is it turning out to be a cheater?”

  “Not necessarily. It’s just … at face value it doesn’t seem like anything more than that. I was just wondering.”

  “You doing all right, man? Settling in to retired life okay?”

  Dex looked out the open door, trying to decide if there were people listening in, or if they even cared. Deciding it didn’t really matter, he shrugged.

  “No. I hate it.” He felt the rueful smile on his face as he looked at the front of Simon’s desk. “I don’t hate this job, but I miss the guys at my old one, and some weird thing has them all treating me like a leper. I don’t know if it’s me taking this job, the fact I’m not in law enforcement anymore, or a combination of both.”

  Detective Chavez this morning hadn’t been bad, but there was a knowing smirk on his lips the entire time he’d been talking to him, like he wasn’t taking Dex seriously. As the former lead detective of the Vice department, the unspoken barbs were a low blow. Of course, it could have just been talking to Dex in his skivvies.

  Simon leaned back in his chair and propped his loafers up on the desk. “I got some of that, too, even though I needed to retire. Everyone expected it in my department. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when. But I still get it. I was treated like a traitor.” He reached into a bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of really expensive scotch. “You want some?”

  “It’s not even noon.” Simon shrugged as if to say, I offered, and put it back. “What happened with you?” Dex asked because he knew it had to be something. Everyone at the office hinted about Simon’s weird rules and his past, but Dex didn’t know if anyone actually knew why Simon was that way. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  Simon’s face shuttered, and Dex watched his friend shut down, but he didn’t move to leave him alone. Instead, Simon opened the drawer he had just closed and got out the bottle of scotch and a glass. Unstopping it, he poured himself two fingers and put it back in the drawer. Tossing back the golden liquid, he grimaced as it moved down his throat.

  “Four brothers died because I trusted the wrong woman. She almost killed me, and I had to kill her. Watching the life fade out of the woman’s eyes you just made love to, and promised to love for eternity, will do something to a man. It was worse than shell-shock. It broke me.”

  Dex figured the guy had fallen in love with a victim somehow, or an informant, and gotten too close. The rule about getting involved with clients was all but written into their contracts. But he had no idea it was this bad. When cops die because of another cop, it does something irreversible to a psyche. He got it now. Simon had been the cause of his brothers’ deaths. No wonder they were glad to see him go.

  He didn’t say anything for a while, and Simon, thankfully, didn’t drink more. But he looked like a maudlin mess, suddenly rumpled, as if the memory had made him shrink into himself.

  “I haven’t told many people that, so let’s keep it between us. Q knows, of course. He was there for most of it, and he put me back together and made me do this.” He waved the empty glass around the office. “But I told you so you’ll know I understand. Even if your brothers give you the cold shoulder because they feel some sort of misplaced sense of abandonment, I
get it. And you’ve got me.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “But to be honest, I have no idea what specifically made me take this case. I don’t think it’s cheating, though, so don’t be too quick to dismiss it. I read the reports, and I think you’re on the right track with the gun stores. Maybe there’s something to the hotels, too? Why don’t you make plans to check them out?”

  “Okay. There’s one hotel in Dallas he’s visited a couple of times. You want me to go there?”

  “Yeah. Can you go today?”

  Dex thought of Amber and their coffee date, and a warm flush stole over him. He felt like a child getting caught doing something and smiled at the reaction. “Yup. I have a meeting with the police about the incident across the street from my house this morning, but I can leave tonight.”

  Chapter Ten

  Amber had decided at the office that Dex knew something. He was up her ass as far as this investigation went, and the fact he didn’t seem to know it bothered her. He’d been sitting outside the gun store yesterday when she’d gone in to ask about Tannerite sales, and then he conveniently lived across the street from the latest explosion, where the gun setting the damn thing off had been fired from his carport. And he was there—outside, with a gun—when it happened.

  Granted, it was the wrong kind of gun, and granted, she didn’t know anyone who went shooting in their underwear, but it was still odd coincidence after odd coincidence.

  The coffee shop where he wanted to meet was called Grounds for Redemption, and when she got there, Dex was sitting at a booth in the corner, chatting with a young, black-haired beauty. His smile as he spoke told Amber he knew her well, and she couldn’t stop the shards of jealousy that splintered her. Sure, Dex was clearly older than the waitress, but there was no way he didn’t have a romantic history in this city at his age and with his looks. And it wasn’t like she was dating him, but Amber couldn’t stop her spine from stiffening at the idea he had invited her to drink coffee at a place where he flirted with the wait staff. Right after kissing the hell out of her.

  “Amber!” He was calling her and motioning her over, and the girl wasn’t leaving. With a sigh, she moved over to him. The woman was considerably younger than Amber, and as proud as Amber was of the way she’d taken care of herself over the years, thirty-five would never compete with twenty-five.

  “Hi,” she muttered to whoever was listening as she slid into the booth.

  “I wanted you to meet Misty. She and Mia run the place. They’re good girls.” He winked at Misty, who ducked her head and blushed.

  “Stop it, Hollerman. You’re a good guy, too, so shut up.” The young woman was clearly uncomfortable with the praise, and Amber softened her reaction. But still ….

  “I got you a regular coffee, but if you want something fancy, Misty can whip it up for you. My treat.” Dex’s grin was infectious, and Amber smiled back, in spite of herself.

  “Can I get some tea?” A good cup of tea would work wonders on her nerves at this point.

  “Sure thing. I’ll bring y’all some pastries in a bit. I’ve got a new recipe for you to try. On the house. They’re Chris’s favorite.” Misty tossed her hair as she grinned at them. Amber warmed a tad to the girl. The proprietary way she’d said the name Chris relaxed Amber more than she wanted to admit.

  “Thanks.” Amber smiled gratefully.

  “When Mia gets here, I know she’ll want to come say hi, but I’ll leave you two.” Misty stalked off like a woman on a mission for tea and pastries. Amber’s jealousy faded.

  “They like you here,” she mused.

  Dex stretched his long legs out under the table as he leaned back, bumping her lightly with his foot. She crossed her legs to get out of his way, not wanting to deal with lingering touches under the table. Or the way they warmed her. “Long story, and it’s not mine to tell, but they are good girls. And this shop is phenomenal. They give a portion of their proceeds to women who have been victims of violence.” His eyes narrowed on her. “You must be new in town if you don’t know.”

  “Well, I am relatively new in town.” Yeah, two weeks was pretty damn new.

  “Look up Mike Worthington when you get back to the station. There’s a file on him. These girls are the survivors. And that’s all I’m going to say about it.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking at her over the rim of the cup before setting it down on the table. “Okay, hit me.”

  She was still pretending not to feel the powerful legs under the table, trying to figure out how to avoid them. He kept bumping into her, his muscular calves rubbing along her leg. “What?”

  “I know you have questions about this morning. I’m here to answer them, remember?” His grin was wicked, as if he knew exactly what his proximity was doing to her. As if he was remembering the kiss every bit as much as she was. The way his hands had held her, the desperation, the impatience, the total mauling of her mouth.

  “Yeah. Right.” Amber flushed, deep heat flowing through her body. Pulling out her notebook, she turned to a fresh page and smoothed it down, clicking her pen open in a ritualistic manner that helped get her game face on. She grabbed her phone and set the voice recording on, speaking into the phone for the date and time of the recording, as well as who she was with. “Okay, tell me again what happened this morning.”

  As he explained, yet again, what had happened when he’d heard a prowler and gotten up to check, she got lost in the timbre of his voice—the timbre that called to her, speaking of tangled sheets and the smell of sex in the dark. Amber’s insides were downright hot, and she felt her forehead with the back of her hand, wondering if she had a fever. Dex ended with, “I guess I’m glad I don’t sleep naked,” and her attention snapped back to the actual words he was saying. There was a glint in his eyes, a dangerous one, a glint that spoke of way more than home invasions and neighborhood explosions. He knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

  Amber cleared her throat in an effort to get back on track. “Okay, how well do you know the Mims family?”

  “Not well enough to get invited to family picnics, but we share tools. He’s good about bringing them back in the same condition he borrowed them.”

  “Did you know he’s a city councilman?”

  “Of course. He’s the only real guy on the Council as far as I’m concerned. He doesn’t live in the ritzy neighborhoods and have his sights set on Senate seats or anything. He just wants to improve the roads in Austin, and I’m all for that. He’s been making a big deal of the traffic situation here for years.”

  “Who hasn’t?” You didn’t have to be an Austin local to know the traffic situation was a joke.

  Amber had honestly been thinking this target was a clue as to the motive of the explosions. But all Gabby could talk about was how Mims was a huge advocate for commuters of the city, trying to help the citizens of Austin by decreasing their driving time to and from work. His last platform had been something about working toward helping income providers spend more time with their family and less time on the road, saving money on daycare expenses, and all things related to traffic.

  Not really a reason to blow shit up.

  “Okay, tell me about the case you’re working on.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you seem to be everywhere I am in my investigation.” She left out the part where she wasn’t supposed to be doing any actual legwork before the incident this morning. He didn’t need to know that.

  “What’s your investigation?”

  “Nice try. Tell me.”

  “Okay. This guy’s wife hired us to figure out what he’s up to. She thinks it’s an affair, but my boss thinks it’s something different. We’re trying to catch him doing something to satisfy her curiosity.”

  “What makes y’all think he’s not cheating?”

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Simon thinks it’s not cheating. He’s making small purchases at gun stores and pawn shops around town.” Her ears perked up at that tidbit. “He’s been staying i
n Dallas at the downtown Hilton more than necessary since February of this year. In fact, he’s got a trip planned tonight, so I’ll be going to Dallas after this.”

  “So what do you think he’s up to?”

  “No idea. Can’t figure out what he’s buying. Credit card receipts just say ‘hunting accessories.’”

  “Which could be anything from ear plugs to …”

  “Exploding targets,” he finished for her, his eyes taking on a knowing gleam. Anticipation ratcheted in her belly, a familiar feeling. It was one she got when she knew she was getting close.

  “What’s his name?” He bit his lip in thought, and she panicked for a minute. “Oh, come on. You can’t keep that from me based on client confidentiality or whatever. You’re not a fucking shrink!”

  “Terry Perkins.”

  She wrote the name down and underlined it four times. Why four? Because that’s how many times it took before he took another sip of his coffee and stopped staring at her.

  Looked like she was driving to Dallas tonight. Amber couldn’t let Dex screw up her investigation, and some part of her was thrilled at the idea of catching the bomber on her own. That would certainly get her some positive attention, and maybe some validation.

  She’d suddenly forgotten Eileen’s warnings against Dex and the way he infuriated her. She would follow him up there, grab a room, and keep an eye on things. Make sure he didn’t fuck things up for her.

  Back at the station, as she filed legitimate paperwork on work she had done herself—major incident logs, evidence chain of command logs, measurement logs to plot trajectories—Amber felt an insane sense of satisfaction. Granted, she wasn’t any closer to figuring out who had done anything, but she felt like she was on the right track.

  Amber still had Dex’s pistol but wasn’t under any illusions he didn’t have more. Every fellow officer she knew had multiple firearms squirreled away in different parts of their house. He wouldn’t be hurting not having his .45. He probably had another one just like it.