“Where is it?” he demanded.
“Where is what?” she snapped back.
He twisted her hand behind her back and drew her up tight against him. Their bodies sealed together from breast to thigh and Talia gasped at the suggestive contact. She tried to sidestep away but he took that last small step that scrunched her body between him and the couch. “You know what,” he said, “The spyglass you took from Edward Jones’ house tonight.”
She fought to breathe. His thighs were rock hard against hers and his chest was wide. She began to feel claustrophobic as he blocked out everything else in the room. “I don’t know anything about a spyglass,” she said, struggling to keep control.
He let out a harsh laugh that rubbed his chest against her tight nipples. “Nah, you probably only know the year it was made, the battle it was used in and its value down to the precise penny. Jones said it was a valuable part of his Civil War collection.”
Talia bit her lip as reactions rocked her system. Could he feel what he was doing to her? Was that why he was so close? To break her down?
Of course, it was.
“I’m sorry for Edward but I don’t know what that has to do with me,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. Jones hadn’t seen her. She hadn’t left any traces behind. She knew it. She’d been very, very careful. They could test that leash all they wanted; they wouldn’t find any prints.
Kinkade caught her by the chin and looked at her with those penetrating brown eyes. “It has everything to do with you. You’re the New Covington Cat Burglar.”
Her heart stopped.
When it kick-started a full minute later, it was in hyperdrive. “You are crazy.”
“Am I?”
“Yes,” she spat.
His hand slid silkily down to her throat. He watched her with hooded eyes as he measured her racing pulse. “If I am, I’m crazy like a fox.”
Talia felt lightheaded. Make that a hungry fox. He’d been hunting her for weeks but, for the first time, she felt as if he might have her by the throat. Literally. She fought back the only way she could.
“That’s right, Detective,” she whispered hoarsely, “Leave a mark. It will only strengthen my case when I charge you and the NCPD with harassment and slander.”
One side of his hard mouth curled upward. “It’s not slander when it’s the truth—and we both know it is.
“Just look at you, baby. You’re the ideal candidate. You’ve got the brain for it and you know the art field inside and out.” His voice dropped to an intimate tone. “Our little kitty cat only takes the best of the best.”
Talia swallowed hard. His disconcerting touch was sending dangerous flares across her sensitive skin. “That proves nothing. I’m in the art business.”
His thumb brushed the line of her jaw. “As much as I hate to admit it, Harrington was right about one thing—you run in the same crowd. You know all the victims.”
She licked her lips. “That’s purely coincidence.”
“Yeah, right.” His gaze swept over her and he reached out to touch her wet hair. “That’s why you were a guest at two of the crime scenes.”
“I told you. It’s coinci—”
“Dence,” he completed for her. “So you say. Rumor is that you’ve been asking people a lot of questions about their collections.”
For a moment, she couldn’t respond. Had she been more obvious than she’d thought? Had she given herself away? Wait a minute. “I’ve been asking for donations for a fundraiser for the after-school arts program. That’s the reason I’m talking to people. Nothing more, nothing less.”
He looked at her so hard, she got the feeling he was trying to look right into her very soul.
“Where is it?” he asked again. His voice had an element of steel to it that hadn’t been there ten seconds ago. “Give me the damn spyglass.”
She looked up at him bravely and refused to cave in. “I don’t have it. I didn’t take it.”
His unwavering gaze dropped and she suddenly realized how little she was wearing. She hadn’t had time to grab more than her robe when she’d heard the pounding on her door.
“I’m only going to give you one more chance,” he said softly. “Where is it?”
“How many times do I have to—Kinkade!”
He’d warned her. In the flash of a split second, he’d reached out and caught the sash of her robe. With a quick tug, it came undone. She tried to cover herself but he was already pulling the material open, baring her.
“Tell me where it is,” he demanded.
His eyes were hot on her naked flesh. Talia hardly heard the question as she struggled to pull the flaps of the robe together. Her breasts heaved as she pushed at him but he was like the Rock of Gibraltar. Hard and unmoving. She couldn’t fight against his strength. She squirmed against the couch, unable to hide from his raking look.
“All right,” he said on a note hardly louder than a whisper. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to look myself. Assume the position.”
His hard hands settled on her waist, turned her around and bent her over so she was braced on the back of the couch. Her fingers sunk into the cushions as her mind raced. He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this!
He flipped her robe up so it lay on her lower back and astonishment froze her. She wasn’t wearing any panties. He could see everything!
Her entire body lurched when he suddenly shoved his cold hand between her legs.
“Kinkade!”
“This was your choice,” he said. He held her still and began determinedly probing her pussy. “All you had to do was be honest with me.”
“Don’t!” she gasped. She was staggered by his aggressiveness. Her breath worked hard as she shifted, trying to get away from that shockingly intimate touch. “You can’t.”
“I can,” he said gruffly. He pressed his leg between hers and widened her stance. “I’ve got a search warrant.”
“Not for this, you don’t!” His fingertips were probing all her crevices and valleys. Two fingers rimmed her opening and she cried aloud. No, this wasn’t right! She couldn’t let him do this. Those thick fingers suddenly penetrated her and her hips rolled. Oh, God! Unwanted pleasure raced through her. “I’ll have you fired,” she panted.
“I’d like to hear you tell the judge about this.” He was breathing hard, too. His air rasped in and out of his lungs as he bent over her, holding her down with his weight. Talia shuddered. She’d pushed him too far and now there was no pulling him back. He was angry, betrayed and out of control. She’d known she’d have to face the consequences but she’d never dreamed they’d be like this.
“Have you got it hiding in a safe place?” he growled. “I always wondered if this was how you got away with the Thorton bracelet.”
She tried to twist her hips away but those insidious fingers lodged deeper inside her. The pressure increased as they began stretching her, searching and seeking. The arousal she’d felt stepping out of the shower came back with a vengeance and, to her horror, her juices started flowing. She could feel the wetness dripping onto her thighs.
He groaned into her ear. “Tell me where you stashed it, baby.”
She bit her lip to hold back a moan. “I can’t,” she said. “I didn’t stash anything anywhere.”
Her last word turned into a squeal when he used his other hand to flick her clit.
“Where?” he demanded.
“I won’t talk to you like this. Get your fingers out of me!”
“Out of your pussy?”
“Yesssss.”
“All right,” he said with a rasp. “Maybe you’ve got it somewhere else.”
His fingers left her abruptly but she went stock-still when she felt his touch move further upward between her legs. Her head whipped around and she looked at him helplessly. His face was like granite but a dark fire burned in his gaze.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he grunted.
His fingers trailed fire across her perin
eum and settled against the bud of her anus.
She frantically reached back and caught his arm but there was no escaping his scandalous touch. His free hand spread wide on her lower back, keeping her firmly in place. The pressure on her sphincter increased and she whimpered. Her body fought him momentarily before conceding to his strength.
Two fingers sunk knuckle-deep into her most private spot but it was too much. She let out a sharp cry and her fingernails bit into his forearm. He pulled one finger out but wiggled the other one deeper. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
“Christ Almighty,” Kinkade swore. He bent over her again, cocooning her body with his. “Where is it?” he growled into her ear.
Talia’s eyes pressed tightly together. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t move. His free hand slid up her thigh and grasped her buttock hard. He kneed her legs open wider and spread her cheeks so he had better access. She felt his finger push harder against her resistance. He wanted her to submit.
Her legs gave out and she sagged onto the couch.
“Tell me the truth,” he ordered. “Tell me everything.”
“Stop,” she begged.
“You don’t want me to. Your pussy is dripping all over the floor.”
She cried out. Her excitement was undeniable. Nobody had ever touched her there—and he wasn’t just touching. He was burrowing. It felt absolutely wicked.
“Where is the spyglass, sweetness?” he asked. “It will be easier for you if you just tell me. You know I’m going to find it.”
“Not there, you’re not!”
“No, but I’m finding something else,” he grunted as he inserted that second, insistent finger again.
Talia’s neck arched. She felt positively overwhelmed. Any second now, she was going to break into a million pieces. “Oh, please.”
His thumb slipped into her pussy and the double penetration sent her entire body shaking.
“Where…is…it?” he grunted.
His cock was grinding hard against her hip and she suddenly realized that he was in just as much torment as she was. “Riley,” she moaned.
“That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”
“Ri-ley!”
A sharp tap made both their heads snap toward the door.
“Detective,” a voice called. “We haven’t found anything down here. Do you need help searching the apartment?”
“Fuck,” Kinkade muttered.
“Ahhh,” Talia cried. Not now!
“Hold on a second,” he called.
She looked over her shoulder, fraught with incompletion. His smoldering gaze captured hers. It was full of lust and something else she couldn’t quite interpret. She had to look away when he began pulling his fingers out of her. He moved so slowly, she could feel the friction along every millimeter of her internal flesh. She winced when she was finally left empty.
Kinkade recovered first. He quickly wiped his hand on his coat and reached for her. She was still too stunned to move. He peeled her off the couch and pulled the flaps of her robe together. She had to hold onto his shoulders for support as he tightened her belt.
He let out another soft curse and wiped the sweat off his brow as he moved to the door. Talia walked unsteadily around the couch and sat on it stiffly as he let his men into her apartment.
“Did you make any progress, sir?” Hendricks asked as he stepped inside.
Riley didn’t answer. “Search every inch of this place with a fine-toothed comb.”
Talia felt ready to shatter. She’d nearly given in to him.
And, unbelievably, she still wanted to.
She heard the men spread out but her internal radar kept Kinkade on-screen. He hadn’t moved from the doorway and he was watching her like a hawk. She could feel it. She looked straight at her lap. At last, she heard his distinctive footsteps head to the kitchen. The sounds of water running and paper towels being torn soon followed. When he returned, he furtively wiped away the puddle of wetness she’d left on the floor.
Talia bit her lip. She was horribly embarrassed but that little display of intimacy was nearly her undoing.
She didn’t dare look at him. With the way he’d left her, so close to the finish, she just couldn’t. She was in too much distress. She’d thought it had been bad when Roger had left her on the edge of orgasm. That was nothing compared to this.
She wanted to roll her hips against the couch so badly, she could almost cry. Instead, she sat staring at her clenched fingers, waiting in agony for the men to finish their search.
It took hours—or so it seemed. Time had a way of standing still with Kinkade scrutinizing her every move and emotion.
At last, he had to walk away empty-handed.
His men came up with nothing.
Without a word, Talia ushered the policemen out of her apartment and away from her place of business. Kinkade stopped in the doorway as if to say something but she caught his arm and pushed him outside.
He wasn’t one to be pushed. He caught her by the nape of the neck. She went still when he began gently massaging the tense muscles in her neck. Her heart thudded when she finally looked up into his eyes. They were dark and dangerous.
“I’ll get you yet,” he whispered.
Her muscles began to quake. “Good-bye, Kinkade.”
“I thought we’d gotten to ‘Riley’.”
“Get out.”
“Sweet dreams, baby.”
She shut the door firmly behind him but a whimper escaped her as she locked it. He’d figured out what her weakness was. Him.
He’d be back to test that vulnerability again.
Gingerly, she turned and mounted the steps. Her pussy throbbed with every move she made and her anus felt disturbingly tender. By the time she made it to her bathroom, she was in agony.
The steam from the shower had disappeared long ago but she was heated from the inside out. Slowly, she bent over and opened a drawer.
“The one place a man would refuse to look,” she said without humor as she pulled out a box of tampons. Digging deep, she found an Alvin Clark and Sons spyglass, circa 1860. She set it carefully on the vanity.
Hands shaking, she undid her robe and let it slide to the floor. Tentatively, she spread her legs. She stared at the spyglass and pictured Kinkade. Memories of how he’d touched her pulsed throughout her body. She let herself feel how his fingers had stroked her…how his breath had brushed her neck…how his palm had cupped her ass. Her pussy throbbed as it begged for penetration.
She gave it what it needed.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her fingers deep. They slid home and her groan echoed off the walls.
It just wasn’t quite enough.
She took a deep breath.
“Riley,” she groaned.
With one soft brush of her thumb against her clit, she finished what he’d started.
Chapter Eleven
A week later, Riley sat in a box seat of the New Covington Community Theater. A crowd of people mingled below, oblivious to his scrutiny. Hiding in plain sight was sometimes a good strategy. People rarely looked up but he could look down on them all he wanted. And he watched them closely, every single one of them. He was on guard for anything out of place, anything suspicious.
Something was brewing tonight. He could feel it. The hair on the back of his neck had been standing on end all day.
The Sizemore Foundation Charity Auction was the place to be on this unseasonably mild winter night. He knew how hard Sadie had worked on promoting the event and it looked as if her tireless efforts were paying off. The turnout was good. The upper crust was certainly all here.
The red carpet theme made the community theater look upscale and classy. People were wearing their Sunday best, although a few of the women looked as if they hadn’t attended church for a while. The men were doing their best James Bond impersonations but some pulled it off better than others. Riley knew which group he fell into. He couldn’t wait to get out of the monkey suit he’d rented.
&nbs
p; A shiny silver head caught his attention in the first row and he felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten. Roger Thorton looked as if he’d been born in a tuxedo. The old fart looked comfortable and pleased as punch. Why shouldn’t he? He was Lydia-less and probably thought he might get lucky again tonight.
Fat chance of that.
Riley forced himself to look away. He was here to work tonight, damn it. He needed to remember that. Everyone from the media to the mayor had come down on him and his captain for the “slowness” of the NCPD’s response to the Cat Burglar robberies.
Slowness, hell. He’d been working his butt off for nearly two months.
He pulled at the tight collar of the tuxedo and forced himself to concentrate. Working fast wasn’t going to solve anything. That was the way details got missed. The only way he was going to crack this case was the old-fashioned way—with hard work. If he had to suffer through old fools and dress like a penguin, so be it. He was more than ready for the payoff.
He let his gaze sweep the crowd one more time. Edward Jones and Ramona Gellar sat halfway back in the sea of seats. He’d come to the conclusion that those two were just hangers-on. No big threat there, although one of them had already been a victim.
The doors at the back of the theater swung open and his gaze shifted to catch the latest arrivals. Acid started burning in his stomach when he spotted Brent Harrington.
Now there was a threat.
“Son of a bitch,” Riley muttered. His hands clenched into fists. He wished Talia hadn’t stopped him from pounding the guy’s face. Just one punch would have messed up that cocky smirk. Just one.
Heads turned as Harrington and his wife walked into the theater like the King and Queen of New Covington but Riley couldn’t stand the sight. He glared down at the stage instead. He knew he was getting too personally involved in the case but he couldn’t help it.
When it came to anything involving Talia Sizemore, he felt possessive. And why shouldn’t he? Thoughts of her filled his working days and dreams of her consumed his nights.
On the Prowl Page 17
