Strong, Sleek and Sinful

by Lorie O'Clare

  “And I can’t stay,” he added.

  “What do you have to do?” The scratchiness in her voice was gone and she moved around her door, pulling it open farther so he could enter.

  Her curiosity didn’t surprise him. He knew he’d pegged her right when he’d listened to her question his nieces. Possibly she was working on a thesis. But there was another side of her, a side that craved action, adventure, and even a mystery. More than likely when she had picked up on teenage girls being abducted and showing up dead she decided to become a private detective.

  His protective instincts kicked into overdrive as he stepped inside and let his gaze drop to the swell of her breasts, accentuated by how her oversized T-shirt draped over them. The fact that she didn’t wear a bra and if she had shorts on underneath the large shirt they weren’t visible made it damn hard to keep his cock from getting hard as a rock. Her long bare, slender legs and no shoes or socks somehow made her even sexier.

  “Work,” he said, knowing not elaborating bugged the crap out of her.

  “What are you working on?” She combed her blonde hair with her fingers and pulled her attention from him, looking into her home.

  Her living room looked exactly like it did the last time he was here. Not as much as a cup on the coffee table, pillows in the corner on each end of the couch, and no media on anywhere. She spent all of her time back in her bedroom, and probably in that middle room she kept locked. He took a moment to glance toward her hallway, betting that room probably held the equipment for those cameras outside. No wonder she kept it locked.

  “I get to go talk to the family of the young girl we found earlier today.”

  “Oh.” Pain registered on Kylie’s face as if she actually knew what it was like to talk to parents of a child who’d just died. “Do you want something to drink before you go?”

  “No time right now.” He looked down the hall. Both bedroom doors were open. “I stopped by for this.”

  Kylie fascinated him, sexually and otherwise. There really wasn’t room in his life for any kind of serious, long-term relationship, but he was compelled to pull her in close, tighten the reins he decided needed to be put on her, and keep a close eye on her.

  “What?” she started to ask, returning her attention to him.

  He didn’t let her ask anything else. Grabbing her arms, he pulled her to him and then attacked her mouth with savage need that unleashed the moment his fingers moved over her flesh.

  She cried out into his mouth, which brought out even more of a craving to possess her, have her, taste every inch of her warm, sensual body.

  Perry cupped her ass, enjoying the soft curve and smooth, round shape of it, and lifted her against him, deepening the kiss. Kylie dragged her nails down his chest, not holding on but definitely not pushing him away, either.

  But when she opened to him, parting her lips and tilting her head to give him full access to the moist heat surrounding her feisty little tongue, a growl tore through him that he didn’t anticipate.

  Kylie didn’t do anything special to try to lure him in, which was part of her appeal. Her oversized T-shirt and bare legs and feet made just about the sexiest picture he’d ever seen. He pictured her coming home, stripping down, and then crashing without a care in the world about her appearance. Along with that, as he moved his hands over her rear it became apparent that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. And she knew he would be coming over.

  Damn.

  “You can’t,” Kylie whimpered, turning her head but leaving it tilted perfectly with an arch that was an open invitation to feast.

  “Can’t what?” he growled, raking his teeth over her skin and feeling her shiver against him. Lifting her shirt, he ran his hands over her bare ass and then enjoyed the way her curves ended at her slender waist.

  “What can’t I do, Kylie?” he asked again, and nipped her flesh at her collarbone.

  Her breath caught, stifling a small cry as she dug in with fingernails that pinched his skin through his shirt. “This,” she hissed.

  Perry dragged his fingers up the sides of her body, feeling her ribs as she arched farther against him. If she was trying to tell him no, she was doing a damn lousy job of it. And although it crossed his mind to lift her into his arms, head down the hallway to her room, he wouldn’t push matters. One, she was trying to tell him to stop even though she didn’t want him to any more than he did. And two, he would wait to fuck her when he had time to enjoy everything he knew she had to offer him. He lifted his head and caught her with her head tilted, her eyes closed, and soft strands of blonde hair draping over the side of her face. Cupping her breasts, he ran his thumbs over her nipples, which were hard like pebbles. His cock fought against the constraints of his jeans while all blood drained from his brain.

  Damn it. She’d told him no.

  “I have a feeling you’re going to be a lot better at making love than you are at saying no.”

  Her eyes snapped open and those bright blue eyes flashed with emotions that made them glow. A mixture of lust and defiance created the perfect shade. Something else he put to memory as he reluctantly let his hands slide down her shirt.

  “I was trying to be nice,” she said, and pressed those moist, pouty lips of hers into a firm line.

  “To you, or to me?” he asked, and tapped her nose before she could swat his hand away and turn from him.

  She let out a loud sigh. “Perry.”

  He didn’t want to listen to her lie to him and tell him she wasn’t interested. “What did I tell you about lying?” he growled, and decided he knew how to change the subject.

  With her back still to him, he headed down her hallway.

  “No!” she yelled, and shocked the shit out of him when she raced faster than he thought she would.

  Kylie flew around him, pushing him hard, so that he almost fell against the wall. Grabbing the door to the middle room, she yanked it closed with enough force to shake the house.

  “You need to leave,” she said with enough conviction that if she’d spoken like that when he’d kissed her his dick would have gone limp.

  “I know,” he said, not fazed by the sudden hard, almost cold look she gave him. The sensual creature he’d caressed a moment before was now all business. Possibly she protected her work, but more than that, he now believed she didn’t want him seeing the elaborate camera system she’d rigged around her house. And if she was digging deep into the case of the teenage girls being abducted, it didn’t surprise him if that created a bit of paranoia in her. “But I’m coming back.”

  He turned before she could say anything, or tell him no, and headed toward the door. “It will be a couple hours possibly, but when I do, I’d love for you to show me that surveillance equipment you’ve got set up around your house.”

  Perry opened the door and let himself out quickly, closing it behind him, and regretted that he couldn’t have enjoyed the expression that he knew was on her face right now.

  Kylie pressed her hand against her hallway wall. The coolness of it did little to soothe the fire burning inside her, not just from that damn kiss but also from his parting words.

  “Fuck you, Perry,” she snapped, hitting the wall and pulling her hand away when her palm stung from the frustrated slap.

  Heading to the front door, she locked it and turned around, staring at her living room. Perry’s interest was physical. Damn, was it physical. If he came back later tonight she would be in trouble. Her interest and desire were as strong as his.

  And if he was her killer?

  “He’s coming back,” she said, knowing it was true. Just the thought of it created a heat inside her that swelled quickly until the moist flesh between her legs pulsed feverishly. “Shit,” she hissed, and combed her hair out of her face with her fingers.

  Returning to the middle bedroom, she pushed open the door, chastising herself for forgetting to lock it. She’d only put her head on her pillow for a minute and had been out like a light in no time. But she was
awake now.

  Paul had told her Perry had a good track record as a cop. From what she’d seen when she watched several officers from his force working that crime scene, they were all well trained. It was time to dig deeper, learn more about every police officer, and every other employee, who worked at the station.

  “It’s going to be a night at the computer,” she conceded, still talking to herself as she moved the mouse across the mouse pad and cleared the screen. Then plopping down in her chair, she stared at the chat box that had appeared since she’d taken her nap.

  You there? The message was from PeteTakesU.

  The message came in half an hour ago. If Perry had made it into this room and to her computer, out of curiosity about her thesis and research, he would have seen this message. Also, this was the second time he’d shown up at her house when a message had appeared on her computer, which meant he couldn’t have sent them, not unless he was incredibly good at sending messages from his phone while walking. The chat program she was using would have told her if the message came from a phone though, and it didn’t. Wherever PeteTakesU was, he was on a home computer. If he was even her guy. If he was her guy, then Perry was innocent.

  “It’s time to find out,” she said out loud, and then pulled up the buddy list that showed PeteTakesU was online but idle. She typed a message: I’m here now, and clicked “send.”

  She scrubbed her head furiously with her fingernails, scratching her scalp and glaring at her knees as she pressed them together. Teenage girls were dying, another one earlier today, and it was Kylie’s job to stop the perpetrator before someone else’s daughter lost her life. It was more than Kylie’s job, it was her responsibility, no one else’s, to put an end to this monster’s madness.

  The pressure of her job didn’t bother her. Taking the heat for another death was something she would live with. But slipping because a cop was too damn sexy for his own good wasn’t something she could live with. Jumping up from her desk, she moved through her home, making sure all lights were out, doors and windows securely locked, and the alarm was turned on. She flipped on the light that would shine outside the front door and make it easier to see anyone approaching her home through the cameras.

  Cameras that obviously Perry had noticed. She blew out a breath, wondering whether a shower would do her any good or if running soap over her body and touching herself would only increase the fire smoldering deep inside her that refused to go out.

  She paused in her hallway, torn between showering and returning to the computer to work. “You know you want to shower for when he returns.” Which was argument enough not to shower. There was work to do, and she’d be damned if she wasted time primping for a man just because he created sensations inside her that she hadn’t felt in years, if ever.

  Her computer chimed and she hurried into the computer room, sliding into her chair. PeteTakesU had answered her. She stared at the bold, black font, pursing her lips together while her heart started beating quickly.

  I know who you are.

  The thin-line cursor blinked eagerly in the response box while she focused on the words until her eyes burned. Blinking several times, she sucked in a breath. Her fingers posed over the keyboards. Her heart raced in her chest while adrenaline pumped through her and made her palms wet. This was what she did, what she was known for. Now was the time to narrow down her list of suspects, starting with PeteTakesU.

  She needed the perfect, saucy, no-cares-in-the-world response. It was time to clear her head of everything in her world and think like a teenager. It was time to find out if PeteTakesU was her killer.

  Who are you? she typed, and clicked “send.”

  Pete Rubble.

  As in the Flintstones? she typed.

  You know old cartoons, too?

  She smiled. “If you’re my guy, you’re quick.” Well, she was quick, too.

  Kylie clicked on the large smiley-face emoticon and then clicked “send.” This was how it was done. This was how the perp snared his victims. Pick a comfortable topic, start chatting, and the unsuspecting victim would relax until she didn’t feel like she was talking to a stranger anymore. Kylie entered into the mind of her killer, thinking like he would, directing the conversation the way he would. She could make him relax and unsuspecting, too.

  You are prettier than any girl in my school.

  She stared at the next message, contemplating her best response so he would ask her to meet him. The sooner she knew whether he was a teenager or not, the better.

  Thank you. What do you look like? She clicked “send” but then quickly typed: What school do you go to?

  I’m not in Mission Hills. There was a brief pause and then the next message appeared in the box: Doesn’t it scare you that I know who you are?

  He wanted her to ask how he knew who she was. She decided to take the bait. Give him what he wanted and get him to ask her to meet him. Teenage girls these days were forward. They knew what they wanted and didn’t hesitate. An image of Kathleen Long, her gray, dead body lying straight on the cold table at the morgue where Kylie had gone earlier, was the ruthless truth as to what happened to girls who thought they knew what they were doing and acted without parental consent. Kathleen Long had been forbidden to meet the boy she’d been talking to online. Kylie read the faxed report that had been typed up by Perry after he interviewed the parents before coming to see her. His report was inconclusive and he stated follow-ups were pending, which was probably where he headed after leaving her house, to interview Kathleen’s friends and learn more about who she went to meet.

  Kylie typed and sent her next message, guessing that waiting a minute before sending it would feed her perp, if she was indeed talking to the killer, and make him believe she was wary. How do you know who I am?

  I’ve been watching you.

  Oh yeah? You don’t live here. LOL.

  Is the green hybrid yours?

  She frowned, her heart thumping hard in her chest while she fidgeted in her chair. He had been watching her.

  He sent a large smiley face and then followed it with a kissing face. My grandmother lives in Mission Hills, he offered. When can I meet you?

  “Bingo.” Kylie grabbed her earpiece to her cell phone and quickly scrolled to the saved number for the FBI field office. Listening to it ring, she decided to go for broke. “You’re going down, buddy,” she said, feeling the adrenaline charge to life inside her. Unfortunately, it accentuated the pulsing that still throbbed between her legs. She rubbed herself against the chair, which only made the craving worse, and posed her fingers, deciding on her response.

  “FBI. How may I direct your call?” a man’s voice said in her ear.

  I can probably get out tonight for a few, but I can’t leave town. She clicked “send” at the same time as she spoke. “Paul Hernandez, please,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. He’s not in the office right now. Can someone else help you?”

  “This is Special Agent Kylie Donovan.” She quickly rattled off her ID number. “It’s very important that I speak with him now.”

  “I can have him call you.”

  “That works.” She stared at the message that appeared in the box.

  It will take me half an hour to get to the bowling-alley parking lot in Mission Hills. Be there and don’t be late.

  “It’s imperative I speak to him right now. I’m going to need backup.”

  “Roger that. Return the call to this number?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll have a callback in five minutes.” The dispatcher said goodbye and the line went dead.

  Kylie started to type: What car do you drive? PeteTakesU signed off before she could click “send.”

  “Crap,” she hissed, her heart still thudding in her chest. She wiped her damp palms against her shirt that partially covered her thighs and then quickly saved the chat to her personal file, where she could access it later. Then jumping out of her chair, she hurried to change clothes.

  Her cell
rang as she was pulling jeans up her thighs. Fidgeting with the zipper and button, she pressed the button on her earpiece and answered on the third ring.

  “This is Paul. What’s up?”

  “We’ve got a meet.”

  Chapter 10

  One of the worst parts of Perry’s job was talking to parents who’d lost a child. It was just as hard stopping in at the victim’s friends’ homes and interviewing terrified teenage girls while their parents paced nervously behind them. The circumstances around Kathleen Long’s death were heinous. He didn’t bother with e-mail, knowing there was no way he could focus on answering any of it, let alone standing on the delete button to get rid of junk mail. Instead, he went straight to his saved Web sites.

  “Son of a bitch,” he hissed, staring at the Web site page he’d shown Rad last week. “It could be her.”

  The young girl who pouted at the camera, her hands resting on her knees as she sat on a bare hardwood floor naked, looked a hell of a lot like Kathleen. He printed the page, slipped it into his file, and reached for his cell. Rad’s phone went straight to voice mail.

  “Damn it.” Waiting until morning seemed an eternity. Every minute that ticked by could mean another teenage girl might be facing the same terrifying death Kathleen had endured.

  Perry paced his den for a few minutes, realizing there wasn’t anything that linked Kathleen to the Peter girls. The Longs had told him they’d forbidden their daughter to meet a boy she’d been talking to online and wanted to meet. When their daughter disappeared, apparently leaving home without their consent, they’d immediately feared the worst. Perry hoped they would be willing to let him search Kathleen’s computer. If he confirmed Kathleen spoke with Peter and had snuck out to meet him, they would have a definite pattern. But Mr. Long had asked Perry to leave when Mrs. Long grew hysterical. They’d been through so much, and now Perry needed to push them to allow him to search into Kathleen’s personal life.

  Yet something else he’d have to wait until tomorrow to accomplish.

  Hyped up and frustrated, Perry dropped his file on his desk and headed back out his door. He didn’t make a habit of using sex to release adrenaline, but he wanted to see Kylie again. Somehow he needed to convince her to quit trying to play private detective. Kylie wasn’t a teenager, but she was young. He wouldn’t have her sniffing around crime scenes any longer out of mere curiosity.