by Debra Webb
She went toe-to-toe with the cop. “So, tell me, why are you here?”
Burton glowered at her, his face red with the frustration and anger he’d readily shown in his tone since his arrival.
“Good point,” Rocky said, adding insult to injury. “Working the Sayar case makes sense. The breaking and entering at the hotel, not so much so. This,” he shook his head, “surely you have homicides to work. This is D.C. after all.”
The glower Burton had reserved thus far for Kendra shifted to Rocky. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
Loaded question. Rocky resisted the urge to say yes.
Burton’s fury swung back to the woman glaring up at him. “Do either of you think for one second that I don’t know what’s going on here?”
“You have the floor, Lieutenant,” Kendra shot back. “Why don’t you tell us what you believe is going on. Clearly you have all the insight.”
“You,” he growled, “are trying to turn Sayar’s case into something it’s not. We have no evidence of anything other than a random act of violence carried out during the execution of a robbery.”
“Except the robber wasn’t too bright since he forgot the MP3 player and flat-panel television in the victim’s bedroom,” Rocky pointed out. “And the forty bucks lying on the bedside table.”
Burton’s gaze sharpened. “Stay out of the Sayar case,” he warned. “What happened at your hotel room and here tonight should be warning enough that you’re barging into territory that…could have serious consequences. You do not want to push this.”
“Is that a threat?” Kendra demanded.
Burton heaved a sigh. “That’s all I can tell you for now.” He hitched a thumb toward the door. “I’ll have one of the officers take you to your hotel.”
“Not necessary.” Rocky stood. “The rental agency is bringing another car.” He gave the man a nod. “But I appreciate the offer.”
Burton started for the door then hesitated. “If you’re smart,” he said to Kendra, “first thing in the morning you’ll get on that fancy jet that brought you here and go back to Chicago. Don’t let the past drag you down with it, Kendra.”
When he’d gone, Rocky closed the door behind him. “Your friend has a point.”
Kendra closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she fought the receding adrenaline. “I understand that nothing we do will bring Yoni back, but his family deserves the truth.”
There was nothing left to give them…except the truth.
Friday, 1:00 a.m.
ROCKY OPENED THE DOOR to his hotel room.
Kendra hesitated before going in. “They gave me a new room.”
He shook his head. “I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
“I need clothes…” She exhaled a weary breath. “I need sleep.”
“I can’t help you with the kind of clothes you’re accustomed to.” Rocky ushered her into the room and closed the door. “But the sleep” he gestured to his bed “I can take care of.”
“I’m not putting you out of your bed again.” She stood her ground near the door.
Rocky crossed the room and picked up her bag with its few salvageable contents. “Your toiletries are here.” He picked up his own bag and poked through it until he found a clean shirt. “This’ll have to do until we can do some shopping tomorrow.”
She hesitated, every thought going through her head playing out on her face. Uncertainty. Temptation. Exhaustion.
Surrender.
One uneven step disappeared behind her. “Only if you’re sure you can manage some sleep, as well. We’re both exhausted.”
“Don’t worry about me.” She closed the distance between them, her steps halting with the missing shoe heel, and tugged the shirt from his hand. “I can sleep anywhere, anytime.”
“Okay, partner.”
Rocky watched her walk across the room. How could a woman look that good with a broken shoe heel and in a rumpled skirt and torn blouse? Her jacket had been trashed, blood on the sleeve where she’d wiped her cheek. She’d taken it off in the manager’s office and hadn’t bothered to pick it up when they left.
The spraying of water in the shower had him conjuring mental pictures of her releasing one button after the other on that torn blouse…allowing the silky material to slide off her shoulders. Then she would reach behind her to lower the zipper of her conservative skirt. It would fall to the floor, circling her bare feet. More of those lacy panties he hadn’t expected from her would drag down her thighs.
“Knock it off, man,” he muttered.
He sat down on the end of the bed and pulled off his boots, rolled off the socks and tossed them aside. His wallet, cell phone and change went on the desk. The belt was next. Unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it free of his waistband was as far as he went with removing clothes. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
Grabbing a pillow, he pulled the upholstered chair closer to the bed and settled in. When he closed his eyes, those tempting images of her naked in the shower invaded his brain once more.
Banishing the arousing pictures, he concentrated on relaxing each muscle. One at a time. Slowly, thoroughly. His heart rate decelerated. His breathing became deeper, slower.
He’d almost succeeded in drifting off when the bathroom door opened and the clean steam, spiced with the sweet smell of her and generic hotel soap, permeated the room, awakening his senses and resurrecting those forbidden images.
He cracked one eye open just enough to watch her pad to the bed. His shirt fell to mid-thigh. This was the first time he’d seen that much of her legs. Gorgeous. The other eye opened. She climbed onto the bed and burrowed beneath the covers.
By the time she’d snuggled in, his heart rate had jumped back into overdrive. No use denying it. He was seriously attracted to the woman. Not just the way she looked, and her refreshing ladylike manners. This went way deeper than that. He liked the way she talked, the way she moved. Her way of thinking…her compassion.
“I thought you were asleep.”
Her voice lugged him out of the lust-arousing thoughts. “Almost,” he admitted. Until you came into the room and made me sit up and take notice, mentally and physically.
“I tried to be quiet.”
He smiled. Wouldn’t have mattered if she’d floated on the air…he would have felt her presence…smelled her sweet scent. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Why didn’t you ever get married?”
If she’d asked if he’d actually been born a girl he wouldn’t have been more surprised. “Busy, I guess.” He wasn’t about to go into the psychology of his choices. His mother had a whole book of theories on his reasoning for remaining single. Rocky felt relatively certain her analysis was part of the reason he’d recently started feeling some urgency on the subject.
“No siblings?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm.”
He considered the “hmm” for a moment. “What does hmm mean?”
“Nothing.”
Yeah, right. “You think because I’m barreling toward forty that I should be or have been married?”
“No…I…yes. How long have your parents been married?”
“Forty years.”
“You’re a nice guy. Good job. You bought a house last year, didn’t you?”
“Sure did.”
“Seems like you’ve got the whole nesting thing going on.”
He lifted his head and stared pointedly at her. “Have you been talking to my mother?” The remark sounded exactly like one his mother would make. Had made, recently as a matter of fact.
Kendra laughed. “I don’t know your mother.”
“The two of you would hit it off.” In a heartbeat.
Silence lapsed around them, doing nothing at all to slow Rocky’s anticipation of hearing her voice again. It soothed him…made him want to hear her crying out his name.
Far enough, pal.
“What about you?” he ventured.
“What about me?”
“You grew up in Virginia?”
“Roanoake.”
“Sisters? Brothers?”
“One brother. He was killed in Iraq in 2003.”
“Damn. Sorry.” Rocky didn’t recall hearing about that. And it wasn’t exactly something a guy forgot.
“It was a bad time for my family.”
“I can only imagine.” His family hadn’t faced that kind of tragedy. They were damned lucky.
“My mother sends me those same vibes you get from yours.”
He met her gaze again. “The marriage-grandkids thing?”
She nodded. “My brother was older than me. He’d gotten married six months before he deployed. My parents had high hopes for grandchildren. Now all that pressure is on me.”
Rocky didn’t hesitate to give her as good as she’d given him. “So no close encounters of the marriage kind for you, either?” ’Course she wasn’t thirty yet. And she was a career woman. No reason there should have been any already.
“Only once.”
Aha. He’d known it. “Your friend Burton?”
“We talked about it, but never quite reached the doing something about it step.”
Man. “Is he the real reason you left D.C.?” Seemed a reasonable hypothesis.
“No. I left D.C. because I couldn’t work with Senator Castille any longer.”
“You want to tell me about it?” If she didn’t want to discuss her falling-out with the senator he understood. They didn’t know each other that well beyond the work environment.
“He was into amassing power and wealth rather than representing the best for his constituents. I got to the point where I disagreed with him more than I agreed. Not a good trait in a personal aide.”
“Sounds like the usual fare for politicians.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he regretted them. Kendra’s education and career had been in politics until three years ago. “For most of them, I mean.”
“Reaching a position that high within the government is about power and wealth to some degree. That’s true.” She paused a moment. “But when that desire overrides all else, it’s wrong. I called him on one particular action he’d been persuaded to take and he blackballed me. At first, I was determined to prove my case…but I realized pretty fast that I was wasting my time. It was time for me to go. I realized I wasn’t cut out for that world.”
“Good for you. Too many people waste a lot of time and energy butting a brick wall. It’s better to turn to something more constructive.”
She sat up, pushed the hair out of her eyes. “That’s exactly right.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t change the system but there were other ways I could make a difference. That was what I really wanted to do.”
“What about you and Burton? Were you already over at that point?”
Kendra pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin there. She hadn’t talked to anyone—not even her mother—about the break-up with Burton. “I couldn’t stay. He couldn’t go.” Was that really the reason the relationship died? No. “He was too wired in to things here. Too by the book rather than by the heart. I had known for a while that we weren’t a good fit.”
“Wow.”
Yeah. She couldn’t believe she’d said the words out loud. “He’s a good cop.” Was that still true? Maybe, maybe not. “At least he was three years ago.” Didn’t seem that way now. He was ignoring valid points regarding Yoni’s murder. She didn’t understand that. Had someone named his price? Did he belong to that exclusive, elusive boys’ club now? She hoped not.
“A lady like you shouldn’t have any trouble finding someone new. What’s the holdup?”
She raised her eyebrows at that one. “A lady like me? What exactly does that mean?”
Rocky closed his arms over his chest and ducked his head toward one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Pretty. Smart. You know what I mean.”
If only it were that easy. “I’m afraid those particular skills are vastly underrated by the male species, Mr. Rockford.” She adopted a knowing look. “When was the last time you dated a woman because she met the criteria?”
The sheepish look that claimed his expression answered the question without him saying a word. He hadn’t.
“I didn’t think so.”
“It’s a defect of the species,” he offered with over-the-top humility.
“Yeah. Among others.”
“So you’ve sworn off men,” he suggested.
Kendra shook her head. “No, not consciously.”
“What’s your dating criteria?”
“Good-natured. Considerate of others. Financially stable. Sound judgment.” She couldn’t be sure but it looked as if his eyes had glazed over. “All that’s presuming I’m dating.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t date?”
“Not in three years, two weeks and a couple of days.” She shouldn’t still remember the exact date, but she did. Down to the hour, in fact, but she wouldn’t mention that part.
“Not one single date?” he pressed.
“Sheesh, Rocky, don’t go out of your way to depress me.”
“Seriously. Not one?”
She moved her head side to side. It was pathetic now that she confessed it out loud to another human being. “No dates. Nothing. I haven’t been kissed in three years, two weeks—”
“And a couple of days,” he finished for her.
“Right.”
“Wow.”
He used that word a lot. “I would choose a number of words to describe the condition, but wow isn’t one of them.”
“Just haven’t met a good-natured, considerate-of-others guy who’s financially stable and of good judgement, is that it?”
“Guess so.” She leaned back against the pillows. “Your mother would say I have issues.”
“Join the crowd,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve been made aware of my many issues my whole life.” His lips curved into a smile. “My father would tell you that life is an issue.”
Rocky was right. She would hit it off with his mother. His father, too, from the sound of it.
“Thanks,” she felt compelled to say.
“For?”
“Taking my mind off exploding glass and panicked screams.”
He dropped his feet to the floor and stood.
Before she could guess if he’d decided a pot of coffee was in order or a bathroom break, he walked around to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, careful not to crowd her.
“That was my mistake.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have left you. I feel really bad about that.”
This big guy never ceased to surprise her. “You did what I told you. It was my decision.” She shrugged. “I lived through it. And we learned something significant.”
“Castille’s wife and/or an accomplice killed Aleesha Ferguson.”
She’d told him what she’d learned from the girl who called herself Delilah. “And that we’re on to something. Otherwise no one would care to watch or to interfere with our efforts.”
He traced the small bandage on her cheek. “They’re getting nervous and that makes you a target.”
“Makes us both targets,” she amended.
He nodded. “They don’t like that we’re getting so close.”
Close. Yes. Too close. This close she could see the tiny gray specks that gave his deep blue eyes such depth and vividness. She liked his lips…the cut of his jaw and the impact of his high cheekbones. She wondered vaguely if there was Native American blood in his heritage. The blue eyes appeared even more profound framed by that coal-black hair.
“You keep looking at me that way and we’re going to have a problem.”
She’d made some statement to that effect on the elevator this morning. She didn’t let his statement or the idea that she’d given him the same prevent her from continuing to look into his eyes. Really look. The soft admiration and respect for her that she saw there fueled the warmth his nearness ha
d ignited.
“What kind of problem?” she prompted. Did she have to spell it out?
“The kind where I end that long dry spell of no kisses.”
She moistened her lips. “I wouldn’t categorize that as a problem.”
He leaned closer. “In that case” he brushed his lips against hers “let’s bring on the rain.”
His lips settled on hers…softly…softly…a little more pressure…a little more intensity…until the heat that had been simmering inside her exploded into flames. She wrapped her arms around him and lost herself in his kiss.
His arms went around her and he leaned her into the pillows. She moaned softly. Loved the feel of his weight on her…the strength of his arms.
Her hands found their way beneath his open shirt. The feel of his warm skin lit a frenzy in her veins. Made her want to become one with all that heat searing every place his skin touched hers.
He drew his lips from hers. “Close your eyes,” he murmured. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right here.” Her heart launched into her throat. She wasn’t ready for this incredible feeling to end…
He moved around to the other side of the bed. An argument tightened her throat. The mattress shifted. Relief slid through her as he climbed into the bed next to her. He pulled her close to his chest.
“Sleep.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’ve got a lot to figure out when dawn comes.”
She relaxed into the protective heat he offered. Closed her eyes and allowed the worries and tensions of the case to drain away.
For the first time in more than three years she felt connected—really connected—to something besides work.
To someone.
Chapter Ten
7:01 a.m.
He was a United States senator. This lack of control over the situation was unacceptable.
Completely unacceptable.
His wife had gone to her sister’s.
Controlling his own wife had become an impossible task. She refused to cooperate. Instead, she had run away.
At the moment her theatrics were the least of his worries.
Judd stamped to the mirror and checked his reflection. He straightened his tie and squared his shoulders. Generally Sharon picked out his tie. A small thing she’d always handled for him. This would do.
