The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  He reached for the hem, lifted it slowly, waited until she worked her hands up above her head. From the way she moved, he knew she was hurting. Then he glanced down and forgot about everything else when he saw the bruises on her back.

  Cold fury filled him. The bastard kicked her.

  She’d said he’d knocked her down, but seeing all that purple marring her skin hit Joe a lot harder than just hearing the words had.

  He was a calm kind of guy, which was helpful for police work, according to the captain. But hot violence surged through his veins, pushing him to find the bastard right now—

  “Joe?”

  He’d stopped moving. He began again, slowly, gently, and swore that he was going to bring Keith Kline in and see to it that he spent his prime years in prison.

  Standing behind Wendy, he gently tugged the sweater over her head and off her arms, and tossed it on the small stool next to the tub. Then he reached up and unclasped her pink lace bra. He didn’t want her to have to twist her hands behind her back. “Let me help you.” He eased the straps down her arms.

  She didn’t say anything, so he pulled the lacy material away from her body and tossed it on the stool. As she folded her arms over her breasts, he reached to her waist and tugged down her pants, helped her step out of them.

  “Joe?” she whispered when he reached for her panties.

  Steam filled the room.

  “I’m not looking,” he lied. “And even if I was, I’ve seen you naked before. This is not a romantic thing. You’re a purple blob.”

  “I know.”

  “If it helps, think of it as an officer of the law assisting you in a professional capacity.”

  “Do cops strip women naked a lot in the course of the average workday?”

  He could hear the tentative smile in her voice. He liked it. “Not as much as we wish.”

  He felt none of the calm he was projecting, his heart rate kicking up as he tugged her pink lace panties down inch by inch, over the smooth curve of her incredibly fine ass. He helped her step out of the soft material. Bruises or not, she was perfect. She was the woman he had naughty dreams about. And she was standing in his bathroom naked.

  He was as hard as the cast iron tub.

  He scooped her up and set her into the water little by little, grateful that he’d had the foresight to add some of Max’s bubble bath. At least, the bubbles covered her up. Mostly.

  He turned off the water. Cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

  She smiled at him. “I don’t think I’ve been fussed over like this since I was a kid.”

  “Pregnant women should be pampered.”

  She looked away.

  He doubted she’d gotten any pampering from Keith when she’d been pregnant with Justin. Not that Joe was some knight in shining armor. He’d been pretty much a jackass, in fact. When she’d told him about the baby, he’d run away. And then he’d denied that the baby could be his.

  “Listen,” he said, feeling like a jerk. “About before. I’m sorry. The idea of having a kid. I needed a moment to absorb that.”

  She looked back at him. “It’s okay. I did kind of spring it on you. I’ve been trying to figure out for a while how to tell you.” She drew a deep breath. “The pregnancy was a pretty big surprise to me too.”

  He nodded, moved to leave, then hesitated. “I’m not sorry about the pregnancy.”

  “We’re not going to ruin your bachelor lifestyle. I promise.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know why I’m not scared out of my gourd. I should be.” The truth was, he hadn’t really taken advantage of being a bachelor in a while. “Maybe I’m maturing.”

  She laughed out loud, the best sound he’d heard in a long time. “Let me know if it hurts. I have some painkillers the hospital sent home with me.”

  And because he wanted to step back to the tub and kiss her senseless, he walked out, leaving the door open a crack behind him. “Holler if you need anything.”

  But what he was really hoping for was that she needed him. And he hoped he was at least half as good as the town thought him to be, so he could be the right guy for Wendy.

  * * *

  Wendy was tempted to call Joe to help her out of the tub when she was done. Moving around hurt. But in the end, she managed.

  Her nightgown wasn’t too difficult to get into. She kissed Justin, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed, then eased her tired body onto the mattress and thought about her son’s father.

  Keith was the type who impressed her right off the bat, but the more she’d gotten to know him, the less she thought of him. Joe was the opposite. When she’d first met Joe, she’d put him down as a superficial, womanizing jock. But the more time she spent with him, the more she had to admit that she’d been wrong.

  He was kind, caring, and brave. He stuck around. He took care of what needed to be taken care of. He seemed like a man a woman could depend on to be there but not take over. If she could ever trust a man, he’d have to be a lot like Joe.

  She could hear him coming up and taking a shower. Then he went back downstairs, and she could hear him moving around for a while before everything went silent. Was he sleeping on the couch?

  Maybe he wanted to be downstairs in case Keith came back and tried to get in.

  He wouldn’t. Keith wouldn’t come unless he thought Wendy was alone. He was a coward at heart. He was only tough enough to beat up a defenseless woman.

  She stared at the ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Keith grabbing her, the vicious hate on his face. She tossed and turned for a while, then decided to go downstairs before she woke Justin up. Maybe a glass of milk would help her settle down.

  “Hi,” Joe said from the couch as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He was lying on his back, snug under a blanket but, apparently, he wasn’t sleeping either. “Everything okay?”

  “Having trouble falling asleep. I thought I’d grab a glass of milk.”

  “Do you need some of that acetaminophen?”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t want to take any pills unless she absolutely needed them.

  She walked out into the kitchen without turning on any lights. Plenty of moonlight came in the windows and the sliding glass door. She poured her milk, drank it, rinsed the glass, and put it into the sink.

  Instead of walking back to the stairs, she went to Joe, dug her toes into the soft carpet as she stopped in front of the couch. “Thank you for having us here. If we were at the apartment when Keith came….” She swallowed. If Amber hadn’t come back….

  He shifted his muscular body all the way to the back of the couch and held the blanket open. “Why don’t you lie down here for a minute?”

  She shouldn’t. But it was, oh, so tempting. He wore nothing but sweatpants, moonlight glinting off his impressive pecs.

  “Women need comfort from men, not just sex,” he said.

  She tilted her head, amused. “Maybe you are maturing.”

  He flashed a sheepish smile. Definitely a new look for him. “Actually, Amber texted that to me before she went to bed. She wanted to make sure I was taking good care of you.”

  He paused, still holding up the blanket. “Maybe we both need comfort. I wasn’t here today when you needed me. If you’re right next to me, at least I’ll know in my sleep that you’re all right.”

  His words fluttered inside her chest as they went straight to her heart.

  He was right. They’d both had a rough day. They both needed comfort. What would be the point of denying that? The couch was wide enough for the both of them, so she lay down next to him, her back to his impressive front. He settled the blanket over her and left his arm around her.

  For a moment, she lay stiff, then his heat seeped into her, and she relaxed, settled against him.

  Three months ago, they’d had sex, but they’d never done this. Lying in his arms felt so incredibly good. This was what she’d missed the night she’d kicked him out of her bed. Sh
e’d kicked him out because of the power of their attraction. How she felt around him had scared her.

  And here they were now, nicely snuggled together. Expecting a baby.

  “It’s all messed up,” she said.

  “What is?” he asked quietly from behind her.

  “Us.”

  “We’re doing okay.”

  “I didn’t set out to trap you or anything.” Keith had accused her of that a hundred times.

  “I don’t feel trapped.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a simple guy. I have a beautiful woman in my arms. What’s there to complain about?”

  “I’m hardly beautiful. I look like an eggplant.”

  “Purple is my favorite color.”

  “There’s a really annoying dinosaur you might want to watch with Justin over breakfast.” But she smiled into the darkness.

  They lay silently. She didn’t feel any sleepier down here than she had upstairs. She couldn’t shut off her brain. “I turned your life upside down. We’re intruding here.”

  “You’re not intruding. I get to invite whoever I want to my home, and I’m entitled to enjoy their company.” He snuggled her in closer.

  And then she could feel just how much he was really enjoying it. “That better be the remote.”

  “You can think whatever makes you sleep easier.”

  “I’m not going to have sex with you.” Then she caught herself, winced. Joe wasn’t Keith. Joe didn’t push. He didn’t deserve all her crap baggage dumped on him. “Sorry. I have all these reflex defense mechanisms that have nothing to do with you. It’s not fair.”

  He gave a dramatic sigh. “Sex is never far from your mind, I have to say. Shocking from the mother of two, really. I can’t say I don’t like it.” But then he said, “Relax. This is nice. It doesn’t have to be more.”

  And, of course, as soon as he said that, as soon as he set her at ease, she wanted more. Which was really weird, today of all days—with her aching all over. Or maybe it wasn’t so strange. She’d been beaten up this morning. And she knew what Joe’s touch would be like. She could sink into his gentleness.

  Actually, she was already doing that, more relaxed than she’d been all day. She pondered that for a moment. “So the town Casanova is a snuggler?”

  “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to protect.”

  “Mum’s the word.”

  “I’m still hoping the word is hot sex, actually. I’m just saying I’m willing to wait for it.”

  “Technically, those are two words.” Again, she smiled into the night.

  She could get used to this, him, his easy, laid-back ways, his arms around her, the promise of passion in the future. “I don’t want to fall in love,” she blurted, then caught herself. Oh God. She really needed to shut up.

  “Okay.” He didn’t sound concerned. “Mind if I ask why?”

  “When Keith gets caught….” She paused, trying to pull her thoughts together. “I need time between that, dealing with that part of my life being finally over, and whatever I do next. I need to figure out what I’m doing. I need to grow into a person who will make good relationship decisions. I don’t ever want to be the way I’ve been with Keith. I want a balance of power.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while after she finished. Then: “How about this? Whatever happens between us, you’re in control.”

  She so wanted to believe that. But he was the wonder boy of Broslin. “How many women have you told that before?”

  “None. And I’m not a total dog. I don’t chase after every skirt.”

  “Just the short ones?”

  “I like short skirts.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “But since I met you, I haven’t been able to think of anyone else. I should see if there’s a pill for that.”

  Her heart lurched.

  “But you’re in charge,” he added. “I mean that.”

  He did, she could tell, and it stunned her. He wasn’t exactly a Type B personality. He’d been a professional athlete and now he was a cop. Why would he ever give up control like that?

  She had a difficult time accepting the only answer that came to her—that Joe Kessler, small-town hero, Officer Cop Casanova, really cared about her.

  Deathblow: Chapter Seventeen

  Joe carried her up to her bed before he left the next morning, covered her up, brushed a kiss over her lips when she sleepily murmured something unintelligible. He stood over the bed for a long second.

  Wendy and Justin were in his life. In his house. He didn’t want them to leave.

  For the first time, he could almost understand Keith Kline. Not the violence, never that. But the concept that if a man was lucky enough to have a woman like Wendy in his life, he would fight like hell to keep her. Although, he knew that wasn’t Keith’s motivation. What Keith had done was about control, not love.

  Joe paused by the bed for another second to watch Wendy sleeping peacefully. She would always be part of his life on one level, because they were going to have a baby together. But passing a kid back and forth between them wasn’t enough. For the first time ever, he wanted more.

  He could see them as a family.

  But could she?

  How many times had she told him that she wanted nothing to do with him?

  He went downstairs, bothered by that thought.

  Mike was waiting in his cruiser outside. He got out of his car, his face haggard as if he hadn’t slept much last night.

  “Door is open. Don’t forget to lock it behind you,” Joe told him.

  “I’m sorry, man. I was sitting out here like an idiot yesterday. I had no idea that freaking bastard got to her. I’m not going to let her out of my sight today, I swear.” Mike sounded as miserable as he looked, no jokes this morning.

  “I appreciate it.” Joe nodded. None of them had expected Keith to actually show up. Hell, if he’d known, he wouldn’t have gone to Philly.

  “Keep an eye out for a short Mexican guy. Paco,” he told Mike.

  “For what?”

  “He cut Wendy’s brake lines. I got tangled up with him in an unrelated case. If Keith could track down my house, so can Paco.”

  “Nobody’s getting through me,” Mike promised.

  As Mike lumbered up the driveway, Joe hopped into his shot-up Camaro and made a note to call Artie about scheduling some bodywork. As it was, it hurt to look at the car. And the bullet holes would draw attention too. But he didn’t dwell on that as he drove down the street. He thought about Wendy.

  He wanted her, he wanted their baby, raising the kids together as a family. He wanted it all, wanted everything. Shit. When had that happened? The thought should have made him feel trapped. Instead, the possibility of a future with her made him feel happy.

  He drove to the station where he had to fill out another injury report for Leila’s files.

  “How bad is it? No bullshit.” The captain watched him through narrowed eyes.

  “It’s nothing. My cell phone took most of the hit. I was stuck in a basement, had to shoot my way out. I shot down the first guy, clipped the second, ran out of bullets so the third one got me before I rushed him.”

  “How did you get out?”

  “Grabbed their guns and climbed the dead guy to push out a window. Then up to the roof, since there was a bloody war going on on the ground.” He’d used missing stones and window sills as stepping stones. “I picked off a few gangbangers from up above.”

  “You went missing.”

  “Might have blacked out up there for a spell. The wound bled a little.”

  The captain shook his head. “You lost enough blood to pass out.”

  “All replaced. A pushy nurse dripped a whole bag of IV fluids into me in the ER.”

  “Doesn’t mean you’re fit for duty.”

  They spent ten minutes arguing over whether or not Joe should go back on sick leave. He won on that, so after he was done at the station, he drove into Wilmington.

  The day before, Wilming
ton PD had searched the city for Keith while the captain and the rest of Broslin PD had combed Broslin, but Joe wanted to take a shot at it. He knew where Kline lived, where he worked, which country club he golfed at, what restaurants he liked for lunch. He was determined to find the bastard.

  He planned out his morning as he drove, where he wanted to go first. But then his thoughts returned to Wendy.

  The plain truth was, he wanted her. He wanted to keep her in his life. He needed to figure out how to accomplish that.

  He hadn’t come up with any brilliant ideas by the time he reached the insurance company where Keith Kline worked.

  “We had police here already,” the department director told him, an older guy who looked near retirement. He wore an impeccable three-piece suit, Italian leather loafers, and an old-fashioned gold signet ring. “Keith didn’t come in yesterday, and he hasn’t shown up yet today either.”

  “Does he have a personal relationship with anyone at the company?”

  “Sure. He’s a great guy. He goes out golfing with the other brokers all the time. Some people grab a beer after work now and then. He’s fun to be around. Outgoing. Good at sales.”

  “Any female friends? Maybe something that goes beyond friendship?”

  The director shook his head. “I don’t think so. But we do have a company policy against fraternizing with coworkers, so if people do date, they usually don’t flaunt it around the office. But I’ve never noticed Keith spending extra time with anyone like that.”

  “Any history of violence?”

  “Look, he’s a great guy.” But something in the man’s tone changed.

  Joe waited him out.

  “It wouldn’t be fair to besmirch his reputation because of one mistake.”

  “This is a police investigation,” Joe reminded him.

  The man pressed his lips together. “He had an argument over a project with a coworker six months ago. Keith threw a chair in the heat of the moment. A laptop got knocked off a desk and broke. He paid for damages, made apologies. He worked it out with HR.”

  Joe asked a few more questions, but none of the responses proved helpful toward figuring out where Keith might be, so he ended with, “Could you show me his office?”