by Renee George
She whistled softly. “Wow,” she finally managed. Humble beginnings didn’t always lead to humble ends.
The floor plan was open. In one corner, a king-sized bed was mounted on a large platform surrounded by stainless steel uprights and large glass panels. A glass block wall was next to it, which Mina could only assume was the bathroom since she could see into every other part of the loft. And, except the black suede furniture, everything else was steel and glass.
Eric hugged his sister. “Charlie, why don’t you go on home?”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I’m fine.”
Charlie looked unconvinced. Eric put his hands on her shoulders.
“Honest.” He kissed her forehead.
She glanced at Mina then nodded. “Okay.”
“Good night, Sweet Sis.” He kissed her cheek. “Try not to worry. I’m a big boy now.”
He gave Mina a meaningful look that had her vibrating to her toes. She gulped. “I better get going too.”
An unexpected look of determination came over Eric’s face as he walked to Mina and took her hand, again making her weak and nearly breathless. “Thanks for tonight.”
He looked down and his bangs fell forward into his eyes. Mina resisted the temptation to reach out and brush them back. “They’ll get this figured out.” She forced a smile. “No worries.” She gave Eric’s hand a final squeeze, fighting the impulse to shove him onto the floor and do naughty-naughty things to his tall, leanly muscled body. Instead, she walked over to Charlie and put her arm around her. “You ready, babe?”
She nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Eric.” When they exited the loft, Charlie stopped in the hall.
“What’s up?” Mina asked.
“Semi,” she said, using her childhood nickname for Mina. “I know I’ve asked you for too much already, but could you help Eric? Look into this… problem… and all.”
“I’m not an investigator, Charlie.” Though she’d already planned to get to the bottom of the situation, she didn’t want to raise Charlie’s hopes.
“You have a private investigator license.”
“I guard bodies, Charlie. That’s what I do.” I used to kill people. I used to track them like animals and end their lives for money. Lots of it. But now she protected people, and she liked that job much better.
“Please,” Charlie said. “Could you just talk to him? Do a little digging? You know people and… What if something happens to him?”
“What do you think might happen?”
Charlie shook her head. “I don’t know. I just…” She hesitated, and then shook her head. “I couldn’t handle it if I lost him.”
What was Charlie not saying? Mina didn’t ask the questions on her mind. If Charlie thought it was important to helping her brother, she would have spilled her guts already. So, Mina simply nodded. “Of course.”
“Thank you!” Charlie hugged her hard.
“Don’t get too excited. I can’t make any promises.”
Charlie smiled like she didn’t believe her. “I have faith in you.”
Mina wished she shared her best friend’s confidence.
* * * *
After Charlie left, Mina decided it was a bad idea to go back in the loft and talk to Eric, but she turned around to the door anyhow. She knocked and waited for a moment—no answer. She knocked louder. A moment later the door slid open. Eric stood in the entry with his hair wet, body damp, and nearly naked with the exception of the black silk boxers that clung to his firm thighs. Her mind screamed run!
Eric looked surprised to see her. “Mina?”
“Uh… yeah. Charlie asked me to investigate the murder. She’s worried about you.”
He shrugged and walked back into the loft, leaving her in the open doorway. “I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t already know.”
Mina entered, sliding the door closed behind her. “Humor me.”
“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a damp towel that was lying on the back of his couch and rubbed it vigorously over his mop of dark blond hair. “Want some coffee?” He shook his head, water shaking onto the floor. It reminded Mina of a really chic Calvin Klein ad, which made her want to run out and buy underwear and perfume.
“Sure,” she told him, making her way to the kitchen area. “Why don’t you get some clothes on and…uh…I’ll get it ready for us.” He was making her uncomfortable with his mostly nakedness.
Now, normally, she would have been fine in this kind of situation. Mina had no qualms about sex, but Charlie was her best friend, her family, and the thoughts she was having for Charlie’s little brother felt almost like incest—almost.
He chuckled—soft, and sexy, and low—and it made her lower bits tighten. As her resolve to keep it strictly professional deteriorated, Mina refused to turn around and look at him. Instead, she made a beeline for the coffee maker.
The kitchen was like something out of the future with its stainless steel counters, polished white stone floor, and glass cabinet doors. Even the refrigerator was see-through. She’d thought the loft was artsy and beautiful before, but now it seemed oddly sterile. It reminded Mina of one of those “Kitchen and Bath” magazine cover shots. Eric had been a messy adolescent who lived on cereal and peanut butter sandwiches. She ran her fingers across the cabinets—they felt cold.
“You’re getting fingerprints on the glass,” Eric said.
Startled, Mina turned around. She’d have thought he would have gotten dressed, but no—he was still in his boxers, no shirt. Yippee skippy. “Where do you hide your Cap’n Crunch?”
Eric smiled, but it was tight-lipped, not like earlier when he’d been amused. Walking over to a long steel corner unit, he opened it up and pulled out a box. “Regardless of what you may think,” he said, “some things don’t change.” It was Cap’n Crunch’s Crunchberries.
Mina barked a laugh. “You’re blowing your new image. What would your fancy clients say?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think they’re hidden?” He looked over at his empty coffeepot. “I thought you were fixing the java?”
* * * *
Eric watched Mina sip her coffee. She’d picked the largest mug he owned. A brown, chunky cup his mom had given him for Christmas the previous year. It happened to be his personal favorite, so it gave him a secret thrill to watch Mina put her lips to the rim. He made note of the fact that she liked cream but no sugar, and filed it away in the part of his brain reserved just for her. He felt like he’d been collecting data since puberty. Oh, the wet dreams his younger self experienced over Semina Vail. He smiled.
Mina glanced at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” Since moving back to the city, he’d dreamed more than once of having Mina in his apartment. But in these fantasies, he’d never been the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Mina had told him not to talk until he had a lawyer, but he knew beyond any doubt he wasn’t the killer. Apparently knowing something is true isn’t the same thing as proving it. When his lawyer had arrived, he’d been relieved.
Mina set down her mug. “So, you wanna tell me what happened?”
“Not really, but I will.” He looked over his shoulder toward his living room area. “Let’s move to the couch. It’s certainly more comfortable than the stools in here.”
Mina stretched her neck to look past him to where he gestured. She nodded. “Okay.” She took off her shoes and looped a finger inside each. When Eric raised his brow, she said, “These are sitting heels, not walking heels, and my feet are telling me we’ve done too much walking in them tonight. If I’d have known someone was going to get murdered, I’d have worn more sensible shoes.”
She’d looked drop dead gorgeous in her red dress and dangerously high heels. Having her on his arm had made him proud. He sensed the desires of the other men in the room when they saw Mina, and it made him feel like the luckiest guy in the room.
They settled onto the couch. Eric sat near the center, but Mina positioned herself b
y the armrest, keeping a distance between them. Any other woman in her position would have been in his lap already, but she wasn’t just any other woman.
She brought her coffee with her, another buffer between them. She leaned back and crossed her legs. “Okay, so…”
Eric sighed. “To begin with, it was one of the most awful things I’ve ever seen.”
“You don’t get out much then.”
He remembered how cool and collected Mina had been at the crime scene. The death had not affected her. Eric wondered if she thought less of him because it had affected him. “I guess I don’t. Up until tonight, I’d never seen a dead body.”
Chapter 6
Mina closed her eyes and remembered her first dead body. No matter how much she tried to put the past behind her, it wouldn’t erase the blood on her hands. She shook the memories from her thoughts. “You’re lucky.”
The expensive black leather couch, plush and more comfortable than Mina expected. Eric’s hair, mostly dry now, hung haphazardly around his face. She couldn’t help but notice how sexy his hair looked, still damp and a little mussed. To stop her growing lust, she focused on the murder. “The fact you didn’t come out right away after finding Wilson looks bad, Eric.”
“I was freaked out, Semina.” He rubbed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I can’t alibi you. I can’t tell the police for sure that you didn’t do it. Do you understand that?”
“I wouldn’t ask you to lie for me.”
Her cell phone rang. Mina walked over to her purse and retrieved it. The display read 5:00 a.m. God! Had she really pulled another all-nighter? “Hello.”
“Hey, Mina.” It was John Stokes. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Hi, John. Nah, I was up. What’s going on?”
There was a pause. “They found Bishop’s fingerprints on the pen sticking out of Wilson’s neck,” John said. “They haven’t issued a warrant yet, but it’s just a matter of time.”
“What about the witness from the bathroom? The guy with the white streak in his hair.”
“No one at the party remembers seeing him.”
“He fought with Tobias Tolliver at the bar.”
“Tolliver denies having an altercation with anyone at the bar, and other than you and Bishop, the story can’t be corroborated by any other witnesses.”
“I understand, John.”
“One more thing,” he added. “The pen didn’t kill the victim. It was a blow to the back of the head.”
“Why would someone kill him that way and then stick a pen into his neck?”
“Maybe they tried with the pen first, and when that didn’t work, they cracked his skull.”
“Anything idea what the weapon might be?” she asked.
“Whatever it is, it has a strange crisscrossing pattern. It’s nothing you’d find in a bathroom.” He paused. “It might be enough to stall your boyfriend from being arrested.”
Not my boyfriend, she wanted to protest, but it would only make her look petty and unprofessional. “Interesting. So no murder weapon in the bathroom. And they searched Eric, so no weapon on him either.”
“That’s about the gist of it.” She could hear the smile in John’s tone. “Talk to you later, babe.”
“Bye.” Mina ended the call and looked at Eric, who sat quietly with a curious expression on his face.
“What is it?” he asked.
She told him about the fingerprints on the pen, how evidence was stacking against him. The missing murder weapon might be the only thing that could clear him.
“Shit. I feel like I’m in a nightmare.”
Mina couldn’t disagree—none of this felt real. He was being set up. At least, she was ninety-nine percent sure. But by who and why? “Do you have any enemies? Anyone who’d want to see you out of the way?”
“Sure.” He nodded.
“Who?”
He hesitated, and his reluctance to name names made her suspicious. She stood up and started to pace. Her bare feet slapped against his hardwood floors. “Look. Someone is trying awfully damned hard to make you look guilty.”
Eric sighed and leaned back. “About two weeks ago, right after my junior partnership was announced, the FBI approached me. They said the firm was under investigation and wanted me to be their eyes and ears.”
“What’d you tell them?”
“That I wouldn’t do it.”
“And?”
“They told me they’d make sure I went down when they got enough evidence to convict the partners.”
“Are you sure they were FBI?”
“I guess.” He shrugged. “Their IDs appeared legitimate.”
“Okay, but I don’t think the FBI would resort to murdering someone to get to you.”
“You’re right, of course.” He swiped his hands through his hair, his green eyes impossibly bright. “Well, there’s Tobias.”
“Tobias? You mean Tobias Tolliver, the guy who was talking with our missing witness?”
“Yes, that Tobias. I sorta… umm… slept with his wife.”
“Sorta slept with his wife? How does someone sorta sleep with someone else?”
“I just meant it wasn’t planned. It was only twice. The second time, he caught us.”
“So, Tolliver knew you had sex with his wife? A partner at the firm and you still made junior partner.”
“Apparently, he was outvoted at the meeting.”
“Who else?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m beginning to think you’ve burned a few more bridges than you’re telling me.”
Eric shrugged. “There’s Kathleen.”
“Kitty? Please don’t tell me you banged her as well.”
“No. But not because she didn’t want to. She’s been obsessed with me.”
“What about Albright? You think he could have picked up on any of that? Got jealous?”
Chuckling, Eric leaned forward and shook his head. “Albright’s a nice man. Clueless, but nice. Kathleen’s a pariah, but he thinks she’s a goddess.”
“Don’t underestimate a man’s ability to pick up on signals.” Mina rubbed her eyebrows, which had been tensing since the conversation began. Not only was Eric a suspect in a murder investigation, but he was also a womanizer and working for a shady tech firm. “Anyone else?”
“Wilson.”
“Did you sleep with his wife too?”
Eric didn’t answer, which in itself was all the answer Mina needed. “I think we can rule out the dead guy.”
Sunlight crept through the windows. She checked her watch—five-thirty, ugh. She walked over to the windows and realized her dress was starting to get damned uncomfortable. “Do you have some sweats or something I can change into? I can’t think in this dress.”
The side of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “Sure. I can’t think while you’re in that dress either.”
“Don’t get cute.” Too late. Damn, the man made her feel like a big, stimulated nerve end.
After Eric fetched her a black pair of jogging pants and an oversized top, she looked around the loft. There wasn’t a single wall that couldn’t be seen through. “I’m not changing in front of you.”
He pointed over to the wall of frosted glass bricks near the bedroom area. “You can change in the bathroom if you like.”
Scrutinizing the barely muted glass, she nodded. Not much privacy, but it would do.
She felt more than saw Eric’s gaze rake over her body before he asked, “Need help with your zipper?”
Mina shivered and fought the whim to say, Hell, yeah! But instead, she said, “I can handle it on my own. Thanks.”
Eric looked a bit confused. “Aren’t you attracted to me?”
“I told you…”
“I know. Rules. But that’s not what I’m asking. You don’t feel… compelled to have sex with me?”
“No, but yes.” She squeezed her thighs together. “You are pa
rt leiol, Eric. That makes you hard to resist, but not impossible.”
“Really?” Her answer seemed to relieve Eric, which both surprised and annoyed Mina all at the same time.
He shifted on the couch, silk boxers sliding up his thigh, revealing a strong curve of butt cheek. Holy smokes, he was one sexy-ass man.
Maybe changing clothes wasn’t the best idea. Getting naked anywhere near him was a bad idea. Her mouth went dry. “Uh, I should probably go home. We can talk tomorrow.”
“You could do that.” He leaned forward. “Or not.”
This was too much. Between Gav and Eric, her lust-o-meter was maxing out. The fact she was even considering having sex with her best friend’s brother rattled her cage. “Feast or famine,” she mumbled, taking an involuntary step toward him.
Eric started to stand and Mina held up a hand. “Don’t.” Her breath caught at the look in his startling clear eyes. “Don’t get up.”
Eric’s focus stayed on her as she rushed to the door, slid it open, and stepped out into the hallway. Once the door was closed between them, Mina slumped against the wall. It took five steps to the elevator to realize she’d forgotten her shoes.
“Looking for these?”
Mina pivoted on the ball of her foot. Eric stood in the doorway, dangling her stilettos like a carrot before a donkey. She closed the gap between them in a few short strides. When she reached for her heels, Eric pulled her into a rough embrace. His mouth met hers, pressing hard, lips and tongue feasting over each other. She breathed in the sweet scent of his freshly scrubbed body.
The muscles in his back shifted and bunched beneath her exploring fingertips. He pulled her closer until the swell of his erection pressed against her stomach. She gasped and pushed him back from her, all the while wanting so badly to finish what they’d started. “This isn’t right,” she whispered.
“Mina.”
“Don’t talk,” she said. “Don’t breathe. Don’t move.” She ignored the aching need gripping her entire body and grabbed her shoes from his hand. “This is so not going to happen.”
