Hidden

by Laura Griffin

  Finally, the door swung open and Bailey stood there in a short black dress.

  “Sorry about Eli’s,” she said.

  His gaze went from her cleavage to her legs to her bare feet and that silver toe ring.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “I stepped on some glass in a parking garage.” She turned and limped into the kitchen, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “You want a drink?”

  “No.”

  Jacob shut the door and followed her. A shoebox crammed with first-aid supplies sat on her breakfast table alongside a bottle of rubbing alcohol. She sank into a chair and bent over her injured foot. She dabbed at the cut with a cotton ball, and he noticed the tremor in her hands.

  “I left you a message,” she said, not looking up.

  “I got it.”

  “I would have called earlier, but I didn’t have my phone.”

  Jacob pulled out the other chair and sat down, watching her. “Where were you?”

  “I left the gala to go to meet a source at a local tech company.”

  “Granite Tech.”

  She glanced up, startled. “How did—”

  “You mentioned them the other day.” And the fact that she didn’t remember told him just how rattled she was. He looked her over. Several curls clung to her sweaty neck. No other injuries that he could see besides the cut on the arch of her foot.

  “Hold that, will you?” She rested her heel on his thigh. Jacob held the cotton ball in place as she rummaged through the shoebox. She unwrapped a big Band-Aid and sealed it over the cut, then she pulled her foot away and stood up.

  “How about a bourbon?” she asked.

  “I’m good.”

  She crouched beside a cabinet and fished a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from behind a row of margarita glasses. She plunked it on the counter and blew a layer of dust off it. Looked like she hadn’t dragged it out since her last party.

  “What did you learn at Granite Tech?” he asked.

  “A lot.” She took a glass down from an upper cabinet and opened the fridge to get a can of Coke. “I can’t talk about it yet. I’m still nailing things down.”

  Jacob gritted his teeth as she poured bourbon into the glass and followed it with a splash of Coke. She took a sip. Then she set the drink on the counter and watched him.

  “You’re pissed that I stood you up,” she said.

  “No.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on.”

  “That’s not why I’m pissed.”

  “At least you admit it.” She lifted her arms to twist her wild curls into a knot, and her dress rode up a few more inches, revealing those strong thighs she used for rowing.

  He walked over to the counter and leaned against it, watching her.

  She secured her hair and rested her hands on her hips, regarding him with a suspicious look. “Why are you pissed?” she asked.

  “You didn’t listen to a word I said last night. You’re still nosing around a murder case that we both know has an organized-crime connection. And you snuck into some company after hours to dig up dirt they don’t want you to have—”

  “I didn’t sneak anywhere. I was escorted by a source. It was perfectly fine.”

  “Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms. “Who’d you say that source was again?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “If everything was fine, how come you’re still shaking? And how did you end up in a parking garage barefoot?”

  She blew out a breath. “It’s a long story.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I’ll tell you later. I can’t yet.”

  Jacob’s chest tightened. He gazed down at her gray eyes and her flushed skin, and he hated that she was hiding shit from him. He hated even more that she was stubborn as hell, and he couldn’t make her tell him a damn thing.

  “I will, Jacob. Trust me.”

  * * *

  * * *

  BAILEY FULLY INTENDED to tell him. Soon. As soon as she had the rest of the info she needed from Seth, and she could present the facts to Jacob in a cohesive way that didn’t make her sound like some wacky conspiracy theorist. Hopefully, it would only be a few more hours.

  Jacob glared down at her, and she could feel that pent-up emotion he was trying not to show. He was trying to be low key, like getting stood up didn’t matter and he hadn’t been worried about where she was.

  How long had he waited at Eli’s? She didn’t know, but it pained her to think of him sitting there wondering what had happened. She could see he’d gone home at some point because instead of his detective clothes, he now wore jeans and a black T-shirt, along with scarred leather work boots with tiny flecks of paint that matched the color of his house.

  He shook his head and looked away.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re frustrating, you know that?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I get that a lot.”

  He stepped closer, and her nerves fluttered at the dangerous gleam in those dark brown eyes.

  He dipped his head down and kissed her. It was hot and intense, and she went up on tiptoes and kissed him back the same way. He was angry. She got that. But somehow that made the kiss even better, and she combed her fingers into his hair and dug her nails into his scalp.

  He tasted sharp and musky, and she realized she’d missed him, which didn’t make any sense, really, but there it was. She kissed him harder, nipping his lip and eliciting a low groan. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She felt edgy and anxious, and she was spoiling for a fight. Or some good sex.

  He clutched her hips, and she felt the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of the dress. She pressed her breasts against him, and next thing she knew he’d lifted her off her feet and was walking her backward toward the living room. The backs of her thighs bumped against the sofa arm.

  She pulled back and rested her palm on his chest. “Where’s your gun?”

  “Ankle holster.”

  “Take it off.”

  He gazed down at her for a moment and then crouched down, hitching up the cuff of his jeans to pull a compact black pistol from his boot. He crossed the room to lock her front door and set the pistol on the counter. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and tossed it beside the gun, then dug out his phone and keys and added them to the pile. Bailey sat on the sofa arm, watching him with a warm tingle in the pit of her stomach.

  He came to stand in front of her. She was eye-level with his chest, and he brushed a curl out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He bent down and kissed her again. Her fingers traced over the stubble along his jaw, then slid around his neck and pulled him close. He lowered her back onto the sofa and hovered over her, and the intent look in his eyes made her heart skitter. She scooted back on the cushions to make room for him.

  He rested his knee between her legs and gazed down at her. “You said you wanted to put the brakes on.”

  God, had she said that? She had. Yesterday. Or the day before. When she’d been leaving his house feeling snubbed after that phone call.

  Jacob looked at her with those solemn brown eyes. He was asking her what she wanted, giving her one more chance to change her mind.

  “Come here.” She dragged his head down and kissed him, and soon his weight was on her, and she felt a flood of relief because this was finally happening after way too many false starts.

  His hand slid up her thigh and under her dress, and he made a low noise in his throat. She tipped her head back, and he kissed his way down her neck and lingered over the swell of her breasts.

  “Damn, you smell good,” he murmured.

  “I smell like sweat.”

  “No.” He trailed his lips over her neckline, and
she arched into him. She slipped her hands under his T-shirt, loving all that smooth, hard skin. She felt good with him. Safe. And the anxious, acidy feeling in her stomach was giving way to something much, much better.

  She loved the feel of his body. She loved the taste of his mouth and the warmth of his hands sliding over her, gently squeezing her curves as though he wanted to learn them. He pulled the strap off her shoulder, and heat flared in his eyes when he discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra. His mouth closed over her nipple and he gave a hard pull. She propped on her elbows and tipped her head back, arching against him as he teased her with his tongue.

  He slid his hand behind her. “Where’s the zipper?”

  “Side.”

  He stopped what he was doing to examine the dress. She turned onto her side, and his gaze met hers as he gave the zipper a slow tug. Then his hand slid inside to cup her breast as he kissed her shoulder.

  She closed her eyes and savored the warm feel of his hands moving over her. They were strong and callused, but the brush of his fingers was just light enough to set off hot little ripples throughout her body. He rolled her onto her back and she felt the straps easing off her shoulders as he slid the dress down her body and over her hips. And then she was lying there in only a sheer black thong, and her bare skin tingled as he dropped her dress to the floor.

  He gazed down at her with a look so intense it made her stomach tighten. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it away and leaned over her, resting his palm on the arm of the sofa. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he dipped his head down and kissed her again. She stroked her fingers over his muscular shoulders, down the valley of his spine, then rested them on his hips.

  She absolutely loved his body, but she didn’t want to tell him so. Instead, she stroked her hands over his shoulders, squeezing the muscles as she kissed him. She dipped her hands into his back pockets, pulling him tight against her as she wrapped her legs around him. They moved against each other, creating a rhythm as the heat built and the tension coiled so tightly inside her that she didn’t want to wait. He seemed to know what she was thinking because he pulled back and gazed down at her, breathing hard.

  “Bedroom,” she whispered.

  He pushed off the sofa and scooped her up, and she let out a yelp.

  “I can walk.”

  “I know.”

  He carried her down the dim hallway and pushed open the door with his shoulder. The bedroom was dark except for the closet light, and she scanned the room, relieved to see Boba Fett curled up on the armchair instead of the bed.

  Jacob set her down amid a pile of pillows. “Are you hurt anywhere else I don’t know about?”

  “No.”

  She got to her knees and started unbuckling his belt. He combed his fingers into her hair and kissed her, and she felt his sharp intake of breath as she closed her hand around him. He took her wrist.

  “Wait.”

  She released him reluctantly, and he disappeared down the hallway before coming back and tossing a condom packet on the nightstand. She sat back on her heels and watched as he stripped off the rest of his clothes and came to stand beside the bed. She stroked her hands over him, tracing his wide shoulders and running her fingers over his sculpted chest, brushing her fingertips over the coarse hair. She still didn’t know what he did to stay in shape, but he invested some serious time into it.

  She tilted her head back to see him, and the simmering look in his eyes set off a flurry of nerves. He seemed so intense. Not just now, but always, and she shivered with anticipation of how they’d be together. She lay back on the bed, pulling him with her, and the delicious weight of him between her thighs made her moan as she hooked her leg around him and kissed him.

  He moved down her, lingering over her neck and then her breasts and then her navel before sliding the last scrap of clothing from her body, and by the time it whispered to the floor, she could hardly breathe because her heart was racing. She reached for the condom and handed it to him, and he tore it open with his teeth and got it on quickly. He shifted her legs apart and rested his palm behind her head.

  Holding her gaze, he pushed inside her, making her gasp. She closed her eyes and wrapped her legs around him as he pushed again. And again. They fit together perfectly, and she clutched his hips as he surged into her over and over, until every cell in her body burned and glowed. She wanted more. Him. She moved against him, straining to keep up with the pace as he moved faster and faster, until she felt mindless with need.

  “Bailey, hold on.”

  She closed her eyes and dug her nails into him, and he drove into her so hard, the bed jumped.

  “Jesus, sorry.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  He kept going until she felt so hot, she could hardly breathe.

  “Bailey . . .”

  She heard the edge in his voice, and she pulled him closer, as close as she could until they were fused together.

  “Now,” she gasped. “Please.”

  Another mind-blowing thrust, and she came apart. He held her through the tremors, and then collapsed on top of her.

  She couldn’t breathe or move with his weight on her. But she didn’t care. She was too blissed out to care about anything.

  He pushed up on his arms and stared down at her, breathing hard. Then he got out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

  She closed her eyes. Oh. My. God. All this time she’d suspected. And now she knew.

  The bed creaked as he stretched out beside her. She rolled toward him but didn’t open her eyes. Her heart hammered inside her chest. She rested her fingers against his sternum and felt his hammering, too. His skin was warm and slick, and she loved that they’d worked up a sweat together.

  She had so many questions. Was it always this intense for him? Or was there something special with her? She looked up at him, and his eyes were closed, but his thudding heart told her he was wide awake.

  She wondered if he had to leave soon. Or if he was on call tonight. If he was, she didn’t want to know about it. She didn’t want to think about work or crime or violence. She didn’t want to talk or argue or analyze anything. She just wanted to float along on a cloud of perfect, soul-searing sex.

  He slung his arm over her waist and pulled her closer, and Bailey’s heart melted at the possessiveness of the gesture. Nestling her head against him, she sighed deeply and let herself drift.

  * * *

  * * *

  TABITHA CUT THROUGH the kitchen and stopped at Theo’s office. Empty again, damn it.

  A bitter lump of frustration clogged her throat. He’d blown her off Thursday after the wake, and tonight he hadn’t been into work at all yet. She needed her money, and she couldn’t wait around anymore.

  Someone had followed her home yesterday—she could have sworn to it. She’d ducked into a grocery store and sneaked out the back, walking right through the refrigerated stockroom before slipping into an alley. She’d taken a back route home, glancing over her shoulder the whole time, and when she finally reached her door her clothes had reeked of sweat and panic.

  Was she being paranoid? Maybe.

  But Robin hadn’t been paranoid enough. Instead she’d been trusting and look where that had gotten her. She’d trusted the government, not just once but twice, and it had cost her everything.

  Tabitha stared at Theo’s cluttered desk, and tears burned her eyes. She needed that money, and it was hers. She’d earned it. She spied the little brass key beside his computer. It probably opened the top desk drawer where he kept a black zipper pouch, which held a thick stack of cash. She eyed the key, and her fingers itched to grab it.

  Four hundred dollars. That was what stood between her and her escape. That amount used to mean nothing. It was a big weekend out. A pair of nice boots. And four hundred dollars paled in comparison to the checks that used
to cross her desk when she worked at McKinney Steel. That kind of money was staggering, which made it even more surreal that she was nearly losing her mind now over four hundred bucks.

  “Red!”

  She jumped and turned around. Layla walked toward her.

  “Table ten needs a check. What are you doing back here?”

  “Nothing. Have you seen Theo?”

  “He’s right there.” Layla nodded, and Tabitha turned to see Theo walking through the kitchen and reading his cell phone.

  Relief flooded her. Thank God she hadn’t gone for that key.

  Theo glanced up as he stepped into the corridor. His face instantly turned wary.

  “I’m busy, Red.”

  “I know, me too.”

  He brushed past her into his office.

  “I need to talk to you again about—”

  “Where’s your car?” he demanded.

  Her car. Her car. The made-up car she’d told him about earlier.

  “Still in the shop,” she said.

  “Which shop?” He sank into his desk chair.

  “Riley’s Automotive.” It was the first thing that popped into her head. She’d seen the sign somewhere.

  Theo dropped his phone on the desk. “Buncha crooks over there. They’re probably bilking you.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “How much do I owe you?”

  She cleared her throat. “Four hundred and ten.”

  He sighed, and Tabitha’s pulse picked up. Her palms started to sweat. He watched her eyes closely, as though gauging her truthfulness.

  “I can give you two hundred now and the rest next Friday.”

  Her stomach clenched. She bit her tongue and nodded. “Thank you.”

  He dug a key chain from his pocket and flipped out a bronze key like the one on his desk. He opened the drawer and pulled out the black zipper pouch, and she held her breath as he took out four crisp fifties and handed them over.

  “Thanks,” she said again, and this time she meant it. She folded the bills and tucked them into her apron.

  His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re closing tonight, right?”