“Yes.” Shoot. She’d meant to message it to KA. That was the reason she’d taken the photo in the first place. Cripes, she was losing her mind. “Hold on, I’ll send it to TJ now.” She hit speaker, accessed the ginger’s number, then sent the photo. “Okay. Done,” she said, taking her boss off speaker.
“Good,” he replied. “Now, tell me how you’re doing.”
She stilled, her throat instantly heating.
Dammit.
She swallowed. “Okay.”
“Bullshit.”
She hiccupped a laugh. Damn guy was too astute. “I’m managing.”
“That’s better,” he said. “I gather you decided not to tell Cage the truth.”
She closed her eyes and nodded as if her boss could see. “Yes. I just can’t shake the feeling…”
A beat of silence met her ear. “Well, it’s your business. You know where I stand on it, but that’s your call.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She hung up after promising to keep him updated. He didn’t know about the letter Rojas had sent a few months back, and she wasn’t about to tell him. Nothing could be done, anyway, so why bother? She forced the monster from her mind, then called TJ. “Did you get my photo?”
“Sure did, pretty lady, and it is indeed a match to the symbol on the anthrax envelope.”
Damn. “I wish I had known.” She blew out a breath and switched gears. “Did you check out Mrs. Johnson?”
“Yes. The detective’s wife looks clean. No criminal record, strange calls, or activity on their bank account. Nothing,” he told her before ending the call.
Nikki hadn’t doubted Cage, just worried he was too close to see clearly. Apparently, he was fine. Not her. Cripes. She hated being stuck under the same roof with him. The situation had gone from bad to worse in one afternoon. Her screw up with not recognizing the symbol cost them their suspect.
Time to regain control.
She needed to expel some energy, and a nice long jog on the beach held infinite appeal. With her meager belongings unpacked into the empty dresser and closet, Nikki eyed the plastic bag Wilson had procured for her ocean-soaked outfit. This was Florida. In mid-July. It wouldn’t take long for mold to set in. Finding the washing machine just became a priority…after she changed.
Once she donned her navy bikini and pulled on a pair of matching running shorts, she grabbed the bag and left the room. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Alarm trickled down her spine. On the other side of the hall, both doors were opened and the rooms deserted.
“Cage?”
No response. She calmed her pulse, cocked her head, and listened. Nothing. Just the soft whirl of the air conditioner and hum of the fridge. In less than a second, she was down the hall, crossing the living room, scanning the kitchen and sitting room as she moved. No sign of Cage.
Did he get mad and leave? She turned and glanced out the front window. The Mustang still sat in the driveway. Her heart dropped.
Where was he?
She pivoted around and rushed through the kitchen, her bare feet making no sound on the cool tile floor as she passed the gleaming granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. A quick peek through the doorway on her right brought her into the laundry room. She tossed the bag of wet clothes onto the washer, turned around, then continued through the sitting room to the back door.
The instant she stepped outside, heat and humidity clung to her like a veil of steam. Wiping her brow, she surveyed the large patio, spotting Cage’s cell phone on a small table.
“Cage?”
Again, no response. She continued to scan the small yard surrounded by a high, white privacy fence. Magnolias scented the air from two trees lining the perimeter along with a nice assortment of palms and shrubs.
She inhaled the sweet fragrance, trying hard to remain composed. Her mind reeled. Where the hell was Cage? Her gaze shot past the outdoor shower to a gated door leading to the beach. Did he go for a swim? Surely he would’ve told her first.
Contemplating whether or not to go back inside for her gun, Nikki decided to proceed without the weapon and quickly headed for the gate. Randomly placed pavers were smooth but hot under her feet, heated from the day’s sun. She opened the gate to find more trees and brush lining another section of pavers that tapered onto the beach.
She scanned the area, unhappy to find it not as deserted as she would’ve liked. Despite the small crowd, it took less than a second to spot Cage’s fine form emerging from the ocean.
The man was like a god. He stood out with his dark good looks, light eyes, and ripped physique. He was broad and muscled, yet not over-pumped. Just lean, strong, and hard. Like his expression. He headed for her, his jaw tight and lips drawn in a straight line.
Relief shuddered through her body before a spark of anger set in. She marched toward him, hot sand stinging her feet until wet, packed sand brought some relief.
“Thanks for telling me you were out here,” she said, uncaring that it sounded harsh or who heard. He’d scared her half to death.
For a moment, she’d thought…
He stopped short and cocked his head. “I was unaware I needed your permission, Ms. Locke.”
If the air was as cold as his voice, she’d have goose bumps.
“Of course you don’t, but given what we’re working on, I would’ve appreciated the courtesy.”
Without waiting for his reply, or worrying about her wet clothes on the washer, she brushed past him and began her jog near the shore. Now, more than ever, she needed to expel energy, and she spent the next half hour putting heel to sand until she couldn’t take the heat. She slipped out of her shorts, rushed into the water, and enjoyed a rigorous swim.
At times, switching gears held merit. Like now. She’d needed the break.
Ten minutes later, shorts in hand, she made her way back to Cage’s place, noting the ocean was free of his sexy form. Good. No doubt he’d showered and dressed by now.
Figuring she’d given him enough time, and that it was safe to return, she entered his backyard and stopped dead. He wasn’t in the house. The gate slipped from her grasp and slammed shut, sealing her in the private outdoor oasis with a showering Cage.
Heat rushed to her core. Five minutes. Why couldn’t she have stayed in the ocean another five damn minutes? Okay, two minutes. His head was under the spray and water ran down every sexy ridge and ripple visible above his swim trunks. A path her tongue longed to follow. A path her tongue used to follow. And linger…
Two seconds later, he stiffened, opened his eyes, and promptly squashed her notion to run.
Chapter Six
If he had any sense, he’d run.
Cage’s body tightened and hardened the instant he’d felt Nikki’s presence. As usual, he always knew when she was near. His body sent out the alert. He opened his eyes, and sure enough, temptation wore a navy bikini.
Was she still as soft as he remembered?
With supreme effort, he stepped back instead of forward and politely motioned toward the shower. She stood there staring at him, her eyes darkening as they raked him up and down. Hell. There was only so much he could take. If she didn’t stop looking at him like she needed him inside her—now—he was going to oblige up against the damn fence.
Finally, she moved closer, holding his gaze until she stepped under the spray. To his relief—or disappointment—she turned her back, breaking eye contact.
But what a view.
His heart slammed hard in his chest. Temptation was now only mere inches away. Leave. Go inside the house, his mind urged. The woman was a liar and cheat. His gaze scoured her luscious curves, looking for a reason to retreat. He found none.
Not a single.
Damn.
One.
Only one hell of a hot motive to advance.
Before he knew it, his hand snaked out and he traced a line down her shoulder blade to the beauty mark haunting his dreams. She stilled, but didn’t step away. Taking her non-movement as approva
l, he continued to draw a line down the sweet line of her spine, his body reveling with each individual tremor he felt under his fingertip.
The woman wanted him. Him…the man she’d left for another.
Now was the perfect opportunity to leave her all hot and bothered and go into the house. But when she turned around and looked up at him through those whiskey-colored eyes so full of hunger and need, all rational thought evaporated, leaving him with an erection heavy and throbbing between them.
Stepping forward at the same time, he found himself under the shower again, but with a delectable difference. Her supple, wet curves were pressed against him, trembling on contact. Heat scorched his spine, and when her hands were suddenly in his hair, pulling his face closer to her open mouth, the last of his control crumbled. He grabbed her sweet ass in one hand and the back of her head with the other before capturing her hitched breath in a kiss he swore he’d never take again.
Over and over, he tasted and plundered, thrusting his tongue into her searing mouth, drinking in her eager acceptance. The woman was hot and ready. He could feel her nipples poking him through the thin material of her bikini, awakening memories and emotions long buried.
Her hold on his head tightened, and her tongue took over, sweeping the roof of his mouth, exploring, eager and hungry. Fire shot to his groin. Damn. He was going to burst.
A second later, he had her out from under the spray of water and against the fence, retaking control of the kiss. She moaned and curled her leg over his hip, drawing him closer, driving him mad. His hand left her ass to caress her thigh and eventually settle in the silky soft alcove behind her knee. A move that used to drive her crazy. She broke the kiss, grabbed the top of the fence, and arched into him with another moan.
God, she was so hot.
He’d had many similar dreams, but none had felt so good. So damn right. His hand ran up her wet skin to cup a gorgeous peaked breast. She trembled under his touch. This was real. She was real, and he needed no further evidence. Cage dipped his head and kissed a path down her throat, slipping the material aside to expose her luscious breast before sucking the tip into his mouth.
Her moan met his ears a moment before her hands fell to his shoulders and her nails dug into his skin with a needy squeeze. He’d forgotten how damn responsive she was…and how much he’d missed it.
There had been other women, but none of them, not even his ex-wife, affected him so deeply that when release came it liquefied every last bone in his body.
Not something one easily forgot.
Or got over.
He lifted his head and stared into her dark, desire-laden eyes. Her gaze burned into his while her hand blazed a wicked trail down his body, hovering at his waistband.
Ah hell, don’t stop there.
He was about to persuade her to continue when his cell phone jangled on the nearby table. Nikki stiffened and released him, blinking until desire no longer darkened her gaze.
Son-of-a-bitch.
He straightened, self-disgust slamming into him with the force of a battering ram, instantly crushing his libido.
What the hell was he thinking?
This woman had tossed him to the curb, and yet, he’d been about to take her without so much as an apology.
That isn’t true, his mind urged. She had apologized in his car, and again in her room.
And he hadn’t been thinking, at least, not with the head on his shoulders.
He grabbed his phone, his gaze never wavering from the sexy woman. “Burnett.”
She fixed her top, shut off the shower, and he watched her slick back her hair and squeeze out the excess water.
“Just wanted to update you. Prochaska’s gone missing,” Hutchins’ announcement doused what was left of Cage’s desire.
“Missing?” he repeated, his frown no doubt matching the one marring Nikki’s brow. “What do you mean missing?”
“He’s disappeared. Not even Homeland, with access to every damn camera imaginable, can find him.”
Cage cursed and ran a hand through his wet hair. “The bastard can try to hide, but no way in hell is he going to get away with killing Drew.”
“He won’t,” Hutchins agreed. “Wilson and I are sticking around Homeland. We’ll keep you informed. And Cage?”
“Yeah?”
“You might want to keep an eye on Ms. Locke.”
He fought back a snort. A minute earlier, he’d had more than his eye on the woman.
“If Prochaska puts two and two together, he may realize she had something to do with his detainment,” the senior detective stated.
His insides froze. The man was right. He watched the woman who only moments ago had that incredible body wrapped around him tight. Her frown deepened as she searched his face.
She was shrewd. He set his features to portray indifference, then twisted around and headed for the house, knowing she’d follow.
Just to be cautious, he wanted her inside.
“Will do,” he said before hanging up.
She stepped inside the house. “Prochaska’s missing?”
“Yes.” He shut and locked the door, then stiffened when her soft hand curved around his bicep. Heat worked its way down his spine to stir his groin.
“We’ll find him.” A warm gaze stared up at him, so positive, so sure. But he knew better than to trust anything she said.
He didn’t want to argue…or her touch.
“You’re dripping all over my floor.” He removed his arm from her grasp.
Pain shot through her eyes, but she blinked and it was gone. “Sorry.” She glanced at the wet floor then back at him. “I’ll clean it up after I get a proper shower.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll take care of it.”
With a nod, she turned and walked away. Cage knew he shouldn’t, but he watched the sexy woman saunter from view, his groin tightening with the sweet sway of her curvy hips.
Why the hell couldn’t he just stay mad at her?
Eight hours later, he was still contemplating that question as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing full well sleep would never come. Between Nikki’s arrival and Prochaska’s disappearance, sleep had bit the dust.
Cage clenched his jaw, breaking the night’s silence with an echoing crack. There wasn’t a rock big enough for the Czech to hide under. The man had gloated. He’d stared at Cage during questioning, a guilty gleam blatantly shining from his smug face. And he could do nothing, thanks to diplomatic immunity. Nothing.
Now, the bastard was gone.
Who the hell knew where—if ever—the guilty SOB would show up?
A sixth sense suddenly stilled his thoughts and heightened his awareness. Alarm coursed through his body.
Something was wrong.
In less than a second, he was crossing his room, Glock in hand. He scanned the hall and open doorways. Nothing amiss in Locke’s room or the bathroom. He focused on the rest of the house. Nothing. No movement, no sound except the steady hum of the central air. He made his way down the hall, doing a lock check on the front door and windows. They all passed.
Long, stealthy strides ate up the distance to the back of the house. The faint aroma of garlic and pepperoni hung in the air from their pizza supper as he checked the kitchen and laundry room. Both were empty. He continued through the sitting room, crossing the tiled floor where he’d wrestled a mop from Nikki earlier that evening. She’d insisted on cleaning up. He finally gave in after ten minutes of arguing.
Damn stubborn woman.
He tugged on the sliding door. It, too, was tight to the touch. He lowered his gun and slowly straightened. Yesterday’s crazy events were finally getting to him.
A muffled sound threw him back into stealth mode as he bolted through the house toward the bedrooms again.
“Cage!”
Fear shot down his spine. Nikki’s anguished cry propelled him down the hall with lightning speed. Shit! He’d just checked on her. Had he missed something? Was Prochaska there? Standing
outside her room, he listened for movement. Anticipation rumbled through him.
Nothing.
In one swift move, he stepped into the room, gun drawn. No one but a sleeping Nikki met his gaze. Relief slackened his body, and he leaned against the doorframe as adrenaline spiraled through his veins.
He must’ve just heard her having a nightmare.
“Cage…no,” she mumbled, her head thrashing from side to side.
He stood there staring at her, unsure what to do. But a moment later, she stilled, her brow cleared, and breathing returned to normal.
What the hell could she be dreaming? And why had she called his name…twice?
Lingering in the doorway, he studied the woman who had captured his heart and ripped it from his chest, dicing it into little pieces too small to be confetti. Her dark hair was tussled, a stray strand lying across her full, upturned, kissable lips. Long lashes cast shadows over her smooth olive skin that beckoned to be touched.
Clenching his jaw, Cage swallowed a curse and headed back to his room, wondering how someone who looked so damn sweet and innocent could be so deceitful.
The nightmares had returned.
Nikki wasn’t surprised. Not with her current assignment. Seeing Cage again, talking to him, touching him…kissing him, of course she’d dream of him getting shot while she watched. Rojas had held that threat over her for years now.
Giving herself a mental shake, she refocused on the coffee Delaney shoved in her hand. “Thank you,” she said as they stood near his desk at the precinct the next day.
“You’re welcome. It’s nice to have someone to drink with.” He motioned to his partner with his head. “Burnett doesn’t touch the stuff. You’d swear it was poison.”
“It is.” Emerald eyes stared directly at her, and although his gaze was unreadable, she knew Cage was recalling their past.
Sharing a fresh cup had occurred after some strenuous morning exercise when he’d come off graveyard and she’d been starting her day.
He looked upon that time as poison?
An invisible knife stabbed at her chest. Memories of their coffee breaks had become her lifeline. Those treasured moments were what had gotten her through hell. Kept her focused.
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