Suddenly holding her on his lap turned into a difficult, if not bad, idea. The friction between her oh-so-sweet ass shifting back and forth against his rock-hard cock could drive him right over the edge. It took a bit of maneuvering, but Coop managed to slide out from beneath Darcy. Now she alone sat in the chair, arms braced on each armrest. Coop stepped down two wide rungs. He grabbed her hips and pulled her to the edge of the seat. Now they lined up perfectly. His right hand kept molding her ass while his left did the same to her breast. The rhythm of his squeezes matched the slight bucking of her hips.
She used her hands to pull him close again. Chuckling, Coop teased his way down her stomach. He felt her diaphragm contract with every lick, every twitch he pulled out of her. All the blood pooling between his legs pulsed to the same beat. Darcy clawed his shirt up and over his head. Then she resumed stroking his back, nails digging in slightly as payback for every nip of his teeth against her flesh. Coop reveled in the cool night breeze against his overheated skin. Her response had driven him up so fast, so hard. Darcy seemed to be right there with him. This was the most fun he’d had in, well, a very long time. And Coop didn’t want to rush it, no matter how great the need to drive himself into her.
Christ. They couldn’t do this out in the open in a lifeguard chair. Darcy pushed him to the edge of reason, but Coop vowed to cling by his fingertips. He pulled her bikini top back into place. Resettled the jacket from where it had fallen to her waist back up at her shoulders. “Darcy, you have no idea how hard this is for me to say—”
“Oh, I think I know exactly how hard it is.” With a low, throaty chuckle, she palmed him through his shorts. The sensation almost catapulted him backward. God almighty, the woman knew how and where to touch to melt a man into a lava pool of need.
Twin headlights flicked on. A rumble and the scent of diesel signaled the approach of the late night beach patrol. Oversized rakes dragged behind their wide-tired ATV, combing the beach for morning.
“I guess that’s our cue to take it inside.” Darcy laughed.
Coop groaned. “Inside we’ve got an audience of my cousin and your friend. Do you think we can shake them?”
“No. Trina’s trying to keep a stiff upper lip, but she’s rattled from what happened with Ivan. We’ve probably been gone too long as it is.”
Lifting her down to the sand, Coop kept a tight grip on her waist. He hoped she could see the promise shining in his eyes like starlight. “I’ll find a way tomorrow to get you alone. Trina will feel absolutely safe, while I make you feel enough shivers to quake you straight into orgasm without taking off your panties.”
Darcy twined her fingers tightly through his. Then she nipped a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “I hope that’s a promise, and not idle bragging.”
“Wait and see.”
Chapter Nine
“If we don’t find anything, we’ll feel like idiots,” said Brad. He stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the giant martini glass.
“Which is why we haven’t called in the locals yet.” Coop angled his shoulder to bop his cousin’s. “Look, we both know OCPD is like every other smallish town in the state. They’ve got some good cops—”
“Captain Riggs,” Brad interrupted. “I worked with him on that human trafficking bust about a year ago. Solid guy who runs his squad with a tight fist.”
“—and an average amount of cops counting down the days till they’ve put in twenty years doing nothing more than foot patrols on the boardwalk. As soon as we walk in the precinct door, their hackles will go up.” Coop dropped into a squat to fiddle with his shoelace. Or at least, that’s what anyone watching would think. It gave Brad an excuse to turn in a circle, hands jammed in pockets, and make sure nobody was taking an interest in their slow progress toward the motel. “Why are we butting into their jurisdiction? Don’t we know they can handle their own problems without Staties sticking their noses where they don’t belong, etcetera. If we march in and demand to talk only to the captain?” Coop let that scenario hang in the air, as heavy and potentially rancid as a chili-cheese dog fart.
Brad jerked his chin forward. “We’d probably act the same way.”
“Of course we would. Protecting your own. It’s what cops do, whether it’s your precinct house, or your city. So until we’ve got more to go on than hearsay—”
“—and the slice out of Trina’s cheek,” Brad cut in again.
“The fact that Ivan feels comfortable using his hands on a random woman only proves one thing.”
“He’s an animal?”
“Okay, two things,” Coop corrected himself. “Tells me that his dick is smaller than a gummi worm, and just as useless. Makes himself feel like a big man by taking out his aggression on weaker targets. Except he didn’t realize how far from weak those two females are.”
Darcy in particular. He just hoped she’d be able to channel that inner strength into ignoring her parents’ egocentric plans for her. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Why should she try to make them happy with a career choice when they clearly didn’t give a rat’s ass about her own happiness? The selfishness of how they were trying to dictate her life to pad their own resumes boggled his mind. And made him thank his lucky stars for the support his own family gave. Even if it did come padded with generous helpings of fussing and daily status checks.
Brad snorted. “The spine in those women must’ve blindsided him.” He lowered his voice as they started up the motel’s cracked cement steps. “Kind of like we’re going to when we figure out what kind of an operation he’s running.”
“Whoa. As I was trying to say, we’ve got to do some serious footwork to come up with enough of a case to present to the locals. If we can’t lock down hard evidence, we can’t report him.”
“And that’s why you had us sneak off. In case this doesn’t pan out. You didn’t want Ms. Unpredictable along, causing trouble.”
Unpredictable? Calling Trina unpredictable was like calling the inside of a volcano a little sultry. “Her heart is in the right place. I’m just not convinced that her brain always tags along for the ride.”
“She’s fun, though. Kind of nice not knowing what’ll pop out of her mouth next.”
Alarm bells went off for Coop. “How nice? Just how much attention are you paying her mouth?”
“Worried I’ll mess things up with her, and that’ll mess up your chances with Darcy?”
Hell, yeah. At least, that was the first, knee-jerk reason. But since the family’d shipped Brad out here to get over a serious case of woe-is-me-itis, the deeper worry really was for his cousin. “A little. I mean, I’m all for you having a rebound fuck-a-thon to get over that bitch of an ex-fiancée. You’re about a month overdue for it, by my book. I just don’t think Trina’s the right girl for the job.”
“Cool your jets. Trina’s too sweet to make it onto my checklist.”
“What checklist?”
“The one Dad gave me when Dana picked her career over me.”
“Not her career,” Coop corrected. “I remember exactly what she said—the chance to earn money hand over fist.”
“Yeah. He said it’d help me get over having my heart yanked out through my scrotum. I’m supposed to go to Atlantic City, gamble a hundred dollars for every thousand I spent on her engagement ring, and go to a strip club. Then when I come back home, find a string of disposable one-night stands and do that for about a month.”
Coop zinged straight to the heart of the matter. “You went to AC without me?”
“Nah. Haven’t crossed anything off it yet. But I know that Trina is anything but disposable. She did manage to remind me that not all women are evil, soul-sucking corporate machines, though. So that’s good.”
Good in many ways. It meant a guaranteed guys’ weekend in AC in the near future. It also proved that Brad no longer whimpered when talking
about Dana, which was a huge step forward. Best of all, he and Trina could hang out together while Coop tried like hell to put more serious moves on Darcy. “Play nice. Look, but don’t touch.”
Brad yanked him to a stop with a quick tug on his arm. “We’re not here to just look through the windows, are we? You want us to case the joint.”
“If you keep up the bad Bogart impressions, I’ll do it alone.”
“Detective Hudson, you’re aware we can’t present evidence obtained less than lawfully.”
Although his cousin sounded as serious as an NSA polygraph tech, Coop didn’t doubt for a second that Brad would back him up. “Hey, if the maid doesn’t lock the door, it isn’t breaking and entering. We just accidentally wander into the wrong room. Anything we see is fair game.”
“If you’re willing to go to these lengths, you really must believe Ivan’s up to something.”
“I think he stinks worse than Nelson’s diaper last Thanksgiving.”
“Christ,” Brad muttered with a shake of his head. Coop’s sister had been all excited to give her son oyster stuffing for the first time. Turned out to be the first and last. The kid and oysters turned out to be incompatible. The combination of upchucking all over the table and the toxic gasses coming from his diaper drove them all away from the table. Whole family ended up going out for pizza.
“While you were running that search on Russian suspects at large, I called the hotel for a little info. The maid should be in the middle of doing the third floor right about now. She always starts at the top and works her way down.”
When they rounded the last set of stairs, the housekeeping cart was, indeed, parked in the center of the open hallway. Coop counted down the number of doors and identified Ivan’s. A stack of towels came flying into the hallway two doors further. Using hand signals, he and Brad moved at intervals toward the room. Sure enough, the door hung partway open. Coop put the Do Not Disturb sign on the knob, slipped inside, and closed the door behind them.
“What are we looking for?” Brad asked.
“Let’s start with the worst-case scenario.”
“Like what? A briefcase bomb?”
“In Ocean City? Not when all the politicians escape to St. Michaels. I meant weapons. Look for guns and ammo. I’ll start looking for paperwork.”
It didn’t take but a minute to figure out that this room couldn’t be Ivan’s center of operations. No clothes in the closet, no papers on the desk, nothing in the bathroom. Aside from a stack of take-out menus and a box of rubbers on the nightstand, it looked empty. Too empty to explain Ivan’s worry that Trina had heard or seen something.
“Help me flip the mattress.”
Moving his head side to side, Brad looked like a pitcher shaking off the catcher’s call. “You didn’t warn me I’d need haz-mat gear. This place looks like it rents by the condom. I’m not touching the bed.”
“Bed flip or belly-down on the carpet. Your pick.”
Brad still looked disgusted, but his quick grab for the mattress showed he knew what Coop hoped to find. Sure enough, as soon as they flipped the stale-smelling box spring, they saw the duct tape holding together a gash in the tacking. Using a sheet as a makeshift glove, Coop poked at the bulges between the springs. Then he palmed his wallet and pulled out a twenty. He held it up to a bulge, which it fit perfectly.
“Cash. Stacks and stacks, from the looks of it.” Coop’s pulse kicked up a couple of notches. He loved solving puzzles. This one had all the makings of a real doozy. Couple that with the beautiful woman tying him up in sweaty knots of lust, and this was turning into the best vacation ever.
“Damn.” Brad kicked at the yellowed dust ruffle. “That doesn’t get us anywhere.”
“Yeah. Not illegal to hide cash in the bed, but whatever earned it for him sure as hell is.”
Brad whipped out his phone and snapped a few pictures. “Still, it’s a start. We’ve got proof—enough for us, anyway—Ivan’s a bad guy. Now we put on our white hats and get to work.”
* * *
“He’s very fat,” Trina complained. She lowered the binoculars. “If I have to spend all day staring at a man, why couldn’t he be ripped and tan instead of round and pasty?”
“That’s why they call it work.” Darcy handed over Trina’s shades to shield her from the merciless sun. It beat down through the cloudless sky, glinting with blinding brightness off the glasslike sea. She’d already been in the water twice to cool off. Trina refused to leave her post, however, keeping a non-stop watch on Ivan from afar. “Did you see anything interesting while I was gone?”
“A woman walked by wearing a terry wrap embroidered with a sequined flamingo.”
“That’s tragic, not interesting.”
Trina slugged back half of a water bottle in one long pull. “It was interesting because she had obviously fake breasts, but Ivan didn’t give her a second look.”
“Disgusting pervert—was she too old for him? What, was she over twenty?” Why did some men believe they could turn back the clock by dating younger and younger women? News flash—it only made them look older by comparison.
“Yes, but not by much. I put her at thirty, tops. I don’t think it was her age that turned him off, though. She’s an American. Walked by me talking on her cell, and had a Philly accent strong enough I could almost smell cheesesteaks.”
“So?”
“So, in addition to having this pervy need to touch the asses of women barely old enough to be his granddaughters, they all have thick foreign accents. A lot like his.”
“Definitely interesting. What do you think that means?” Darcy had noticed the sea of accents surrounding them, like the mishmash of a chopped salad. The flat twang of the blue collar workers from along the coast, the crisp, professional city-types, and plenty of southern drawls. But now that Trina mentioned it, she’d also heard a surprising amount of thick Eastern European accents as well. Every time they went to a store or a restaurant, the cashiers spoke broken English.
“I don’t know.” Trina tossed her glasses on the towel. Scowling, she tilted her head up to watch a surprisingly noisy red biplane pulling yet another ad for all you can eat buffets and pizza. They sputtered by at least twice an hour.
“One step at a time. We’ll figure it out.” Resting the binoculars on her nose, Darcy took over the watch so Trina could take a break. “Hey, he’s on the move. But just down to the water to take a dip. His latest ‘friend’ is still hanging out under the umbrella.”
“Really? That’s perfect.”
Uh oh. Darcy worried that Trina had cooked up some sort of plan. She really hoped it didn’t involve a papier-mâché shark, or anything else crazy that might get them kicked off the beach. “Why? What’s so special about cooling off in the ocean?”
Trina put two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. A girl with SCOPES in large white letters across her shorts turned around and jogged over to them. She wore a tan dark enough to pay the college tuition for some lucky dermatologist’s kid in ten years, a fake lei, and a big camera around her neck. “Hi, Trina. Are you ready for me now?”
“Ready for what?” Yup, Darcy had a bad feeling about this. Trina’s brainstorms had a way of creating more problems than they solved. “How about you do a quick two-minute consult with your partner over here?”
Handing over a piece of paper wrapped in a twenty dollar bill, Trina winked. “Now is the perfect time. Thanks for helping.” The girl jogged away in Ivan’s direction, ponytail bobbing beneath her cap.
Almost scared to ask, Darcy poked Trina’s leg. “What just happened?”
She looked inordinately pleased with herself. “Let’s just say I rolled the dice.”
“Let’s not. Instead, how about you spit out every single detail on whatever scheme it is you’ve concocted? ’Cause I have to tell you,
yesterday’s little adventure didn’t turn out so well.”
Trina toyed with the adhesive butterfly strips on her cheek. “Don’t worry. That’s why we’re in a different spot today, so far away from Ivan. He has no idea we’re here. This is perfectly safe.”
“Uh huh.” Telling someone not to worry was like telling them a mosquito bite didn’t itch. It just didn’t work. Darcy raised the binoculars again, charting the girl’s progress through the maze of wide, yellow rental umbrellas, interspersed with the bright stripes, enormous tents and tropical fish patterns of those from the local chain of fun-in-the-sun suppliers.
“The Scopes girl runs around all day taking pictures. They can be picked up the next day in these cute little pastel holders that hang on your key chain,” Trina explained. “The Scopes kids swarm the beach like ants. I know you’ve seen them. The guys all have a stripe of purple zinc down their noses. Horrible summer job.”
“Well, I’m glad to know that’s one possible career you’ve crossed off your list. But your point would be?”
“Everyone out here is used to seeing them. So I figured it’d be totally safe if she approached one of Ivan’s mystery girls.”
“Safe in that Ivan won’t backhand her across the face, sure. But what good does it do us to get her picture snapped?”
Trina patronizingly patted her on the head. “Gotta think outside the box. All that college time’s made your brain rigid. The Scopes girl—oh, her name’s London, by the way. I promised if she helped me out with this, she could come back tomorrow and take real pictures of us. Or you and Coop. You should definitely have a memento of this week when you’re gone.”
“I think the scar down your cheek will be more than enough to remind me for years to come.” Plus, Darcy didn’t want to think about leaving. Well, she didn’t want to think about leaving for Africa at all, and she really didn’t want to think about leaving Coop.
“London is about to hand over a coupon for free dinner and drinks at the Red Terrapin. Ivan won’t suspect if he sees anything from the water.”
Love at High Tide Page 11
