by AJ Nuest
Yes. She placed her hand on his forearm. “Thank you.” She tightened her grip on the hard muscle. “I mean it.”
“Yeah, well, don’t thank me yet. You and me still need to get a few things straight.” He shot a shrewd glance her way. “So, where are we going?”
She gave him the address and settled back in the seat. Thank God. Thank God, thank God, he’d finally listened.
Silence filled the car, and she dropped her forehead into her palm. Shit, where did she even start to unravel this mess? The storage unit would be her best bet. All her back-ups were there, clothes, money. She’d have to search the files, start at the beginning and see if anything sparked her memory. Any case where the mark might’ve been able to figure out her identity.
“I’m hoping I already know the answer to this, but I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with Ruby’s death?”
She lifted her head and turned. His jaw was clenched so tight a shallow dip rode the side of his face, offset by the high ridge of his cheekbone. A corded tendon bunched along his throat, so thick and delicious she wondered for a second what it would be like lick it, nip it with her teeth so she could savor the taste. “No.”
His shoulders fell, and he peeked at her through the fringe of his dark lashes. “I didn’t think so. What about your enemies? Do you know anyone who might be angry enough with you to take things this far?”
A sputter blurted past her lips. She chuckled, her amusement growing as he shot a perplexed scowl across the car. Laughter wound up from deep inside her, and she placed a hand on her throat to brace her sore neck, her stomach clenching so hard it ached. God, he was funny.
“Why yes, Detective. I know a few people who would love to see me dead.” In fact, she had the names and detailed information of over eight hundred possible candidates. She wiped a laughter tear off her cheek, chuckling as she shook her head. Oh, that was good.
He squinted. “I don’t suppose you care to tell me what you do for a living?”
“I get even.” She waved off his question. The cat was out of the bag now that he had her name. All he’d have to do was ask around and, eventually, someone would talk. “I make people pay for their actions, their sense of entitlement. For hurting people who don’t deserve their cruelty.”
“And who decides what punishment fits the crime? You?” He aimed a cynical brow at her. “Anyone can just write a check to Dirty Deeds and you’ll go about destroying the people who supposedly done them wrong?”
Honest to God, the man rode her very last nerve. “Spare me the criticisms, Detective. If the justice system worked the way it should, I’d be out of a job. And so would you, by the way.”
As if he knew the anything about her, about the way she ran her business. As if she agreed to help people based on nothing other than the number of dollars they had in the bank. “I have not taken on one case where the mark didn’t deserve everything he or she had coming. Not one. You wanna lecture me about destroying people’s lives? About doling out punishment? Take a look at my case files. I do my research and I can tell you those people are the victims. Decent folks who got the shaft and had no one to turn to for help.”
He pulled over in front of the apartment building and jammed the lever in park. “All I’m saying is there’s a right way and wrong way to go about convicting someone.”
Exactly. “Problem is, you think yours is the only right way.”
She shoved open the door and slammed it behind her, striding quickly through the small courtyard for the front door. Sliding aside the loose brick near the door buzzers and list of tenant names, she retrieved the key and then glanced over her shoulder as the detective came up behind her. “What are you doing?”
“My job.” He nodded toward the door. “I want to make sure you get in safe.”
She twisted the key in the lock and whirled in the threshold. “I’m in.” She shrugged his jacket off her shoulders and handed it through the opening. “Now please leave.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m either escorting you to the apartment or I’m planting my ass right here.”
She slumped, but she was too damn tired to argue, and after sitting in his car, every muscle in her body was screaming. Besides, trying to have a conversation with him was like beating a dead horse. He’d already decided she was a criminal and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do or say change his mind.
She swung the door wide and opened a flat hand toward the stairwell. “Third floor. Lucky number seven.”
He climbed the steps at her side, checking the windows at each landing, his focus darting up and down the stairs. As they approached the apartment, she studied her feet, jingling the keys in her hand. It really was a drag they couldn’t get along, and why that even mattered made absolutely no sense. Maybe her frustration when it came to Kelly Riordan was just an off-shoot of the attack. She was usually much more level-headed when it came to dealing with people, and God knew if anyone understood how life could twist perception that person was her. There was just something about the man that spun her off-kilter, scrambled everything around inside her head.
Deep down, though, she wasn’t angry with him. Not really. The choices she’d made were her own, and what had happened tonight hadn’t been his fault. Hell, if anything, she should be grateful for his persistence in tracking her down. He’d shown up in the nick of time and then broken a ton of rules by bringing her here. She had to give him props for that.
Peeking at him out of the corner of her eye, she shook her head. They simply had opposing ideologies, went about helping folks in two vastly different ways.
She unlocked the door and turned in the hallway, offering him his jacket a second time. He hooked the collar onto his finger and swung it over his shoulder.
Regardless of their differences, she owed him her thanks. After that was done, they would never have to fight with one another again. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just been a hell of a night and I’m exhausted and sore and really confus—”
“Hey.”
She met his pretty blue eyes.
“Don’t apologize.” The sleeve of his shirt strained around his bicep as he reached forward and tugged a lock of her hair. “What happened back there was my fault. I know you got your cage rattled in that alley and I should’ve never started in on you.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, his index finger skimming the edge of her chin, and every inch of her body tingled like he’d just tapped into her pleasure center. “I’m sorry.”
Oh, God. Maybe it was better for them to butt heads. One touch from those large, warm hands, and the only she could think about was grabbing his shirt and yanking him inside the apartment. Cracking open the Kama Sutra as a reference guide. “Thanks. I’m usually not such a bitch, I swear.”
His lips turned down in a shrewd frown. “Oh, I’m sure you are, but that’s okay. I’ve heard once or twice I can be a real prick.”
Ha, ha. “Wow. You’d better be careful. That charm of yours could really sweep a girl off her feet.”
They shared a quiet laugh as he searched her face. “Really, though, you handled yourself like a champ tonight. I can appreciate how scared you must’ve been.” Fumbling inside his jacket, he removed a business card. “If you feel dizzy or need a ride anywhere, just call me. I’ll be here in two seconds flat.”
Yep, dizzy. That’s what he made her, all right. She slipped the card from his hand, chewing the inside of her lip. So, so much better when they were fighting. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Clearing his throat, he jerked his chin toward the apartment. “You want me to check inside? Make sure it’s clear?”
Oh God, no. Being in such close quarters with him was a terrible, terrible idea. She shook her head. “The super put guards on the windows. No one’s getting in or out.”
“Good.” He smiled and she went all wobbly around the knees. The man was just too damn attractive for his own good. Or maybe hers. Geesh, she couldn’t think straight with him
standing there rocking that whole Sexy McHotness he had going on. “Go ahead and get some sleep, Dirty Deeds. We’ll start fresh in the morning.”
She hesitated and then nodded. Stepping inside the apartment, she slowly closed the door. Yeah, a fresh start with Kelly Riordan wasn’t happening. She patted the door in goodbye.
The way his eyes had peered at her, the soft tug they caused on her heart… He didn’t just look at her, he looked at her. There was no hiding inside one of her personas when he did that. He wasn’t about to buy some cheap knock-off she’d adopted for an hour or two.
Those were dangerous signs things between them could quickly spiral out of control, and the better choice was for her to stay as far, far away from him as possible.
Filling her lungs, she fished her cell from her pocket and checked the time. After midnight, but she really couldn’t wait. She dialed Malcolm’s number and headed down the hall, nodding as his voice mail clicked on. “Hey, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this message. I need to get lost.”
Chapter 6
The insides of his lids scraped liked they’d been lined with sandpaper, and Kelly dug his thumb and index finger into his eye sockets to give them a good, hard scrub. He was glad he’d stayed, though. Even if the way he’d stood outside her apartment all night long made Eden madder than hell, he wouldn’t have had it any other way.
He wouldn’t have slept regardless of how tired he was. Not at home and not in his car parked in front of the building. Not after leaving her locked in that apartment, no one aware of her location but him, some creep out there waiting for the opportunity to slit her throat. The second he’d spotted her jacked up in that alley, the bastard’s hand twisted in her hair, his knife closing in, Kelly had known leaving her unguarded wasn’t an option.
The only thing that remained sorta fuzzy around the edges was how much of his decision rested on the investigation, and how much was balanced on something more—like the full body cramp he experienced whenever he envisioned her lying inside DeFranco’s morgue.
He’d had plenty of time to consider the options. Other than a few tenants leaving for work around five a.m., followed by a short visit from the building manager a couple minutes later, everything had remained quiet, and he’d had nothing to occupy the time but his thoughts.
The analytical left half of his brain told him the only reason he cared about Eden’s safety was because Dirty Deeds was the strongest link he had to solving Ruby’s murder. Even if Eden wasn’t sure how the two were connected, no one could deny, after last night’s attempt on her life, she held the missing piece. But, in order to figure out what that was, he had to somehow get her to trust him. To open up about her life so he could solve the case, lock the asshole away for the rest of his life and make sure no one else ever hurt her.
It was right around that spot in his thought process, his emotional prefrontal cortex cried bullshit. First off, if he planned on standing watch outside her apartment, why not just tell her? Even if she’d shredded him with that sharp tongue of hers, she wouldn’t have changed his mind.
The hard truth was, he hadn’t wanted to make her more upset. He’d already done a fine job of that by pressing her for information so soon after the attack, and the last thing she’d needed was for him to stack another layer of stress on her shoulders. She’d earned a good night’s sleep, some quiet time to decompress and try to put the whole incident behind her.
She wouldn’t have been able to do that if she’d known he was close. Over everything else, Eden valued her privacy. She’d made that damn well clear enough during the car ride here.
A yawn cracked his jaw, and he pushed up from the wall, strolled down the hall and drew the curtain aside to check the street. If only that had been the whole of it. If only his decision to stay had started and ended with making sure she caught some well-deserved sleep.
The gray drizzle of a cold Friday morning coated the window, the sidewalks and street. Down below, a young woman hurried two kids through the courtyard, juggling an umbrella and briefcase in one hand, two backpacks in the other.
It was the misery in Eden’s voice that had planted his feet outside her door. The sadness in her eyes when she’d mentioned being adopted. After what she’d been through, he couldn’t imagine going off someplace unfamiliar to spend the night alone.
Anyone else in her situation would’ve run to family or friends so they could be comforted by people they trusted. Hell, even he’d been known to head home so he could soak in the rough-and-tumble Riordan family brand of togetherness after a hard stretch. Since she hadn’t, he could only assume she didn’t have anyone to turn to, and once he’d figured that out, there was no way he could leave her. No way in hell.
His phone chirped, and he dropped the curtain, rushing back toward his jacket. Dammit, he should’ve silenced the ringer. The smallest sound coming from the hall was liable to send her into a panic.
He dug his cell from his pocket and slapped it to his ear. “Riordan.”
“Yeah, I’m heading in and just wanted to touch base.”
Archer. Kelly nodded. “Got anything for me?”
“APBs have been sent out to all the precincts. State has road blocks in place.” The blare of a horn vibrated the line, and Archer cursed. “I’ve got troopers monitoring the train stations and airports. The fucker’s not going anywhere without us hearing about it.”
“Good. Make sure Molly knows. Tell her to drop what she’s doing and work the perp’s description. See if she can get a hit on the database.” Kelly camped one shoulder against the wall. “Any word yet from DeFranco on the DNA he found under Ruby’s nails?”
“Not that I’ve heard, but I’ll check with him as soon as I hit the precinct.” Archer paused. “Where are you?”
The deadbolt snapped behind him, and Kelly shoved up from the wall, turning as the door to Eden’s apartment swung open. She stepped into the hall, her jaw unhinged, and every muscle in his body slammed into lockdown mode in three seconds flat.
Sweet Jesus.
Her cheeks were flushed, the auburn ringlets sprouting from her head tousled and sexy from sleep. A white silk bathrobe brushed her mid-thigh, the belt cinched around her waist, and based on those two rosy nipples pebbling the material, she was bare-ass naked underneath.
He swallowed at the dryness in his throat, his gaze locked on hers. A waft of steam rose from the white cup in her hand, and something inside his chest cracked.
Well, son of a bitch. The bright shine in her eyes wasn’t filled with anger. It was more a combination of surprise mixed with a heavy dose of appreciation. Shit, hadn’t she ever had someone watch her back before?
Kelly cleared his throat. “I’m protecting my witness.”
Her mouth clamped shut, and she narrowed her eyes. Yep. There was the Eden he’d expected. By the set of her jaw and the way those red toenails tapped the floor, she was prepping to chew up his ass and spit it to the curb.
“Aw, shit, Riordan. I hope to God by protecting your witness, you don’t mean what I think you mean. Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?”
“I gotta go.” Kelly thumbed the screen and stashed his cell in his front pocket. “Now before you get totally bent out of shape, just let me—”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” She wrapped one arm around her waist, gritting her teeth. “You just had to stay out here all night and make me like you.”
He froze. Wait, what?
“I was perfectly fine fighting with you last night, but no-o-o. You just had to go and do something nice.” She pivoted and strode into the apartment. “Big dumb jerk.”
Kelly stared at the open doorway. A second passed before his slow grin spread, and he followed her inside and closed the door.
The main room was empty. Not surprising, considering she used the location as a safe house. The slam of a cupboard echoed off the hardwood floor, and he rounded the wall to find three empty stools lined along a lamin
ate breakfast counter on his left.
She glanced over her shoulder at him from inside the kitchen, filling a cup with coffee, then turned with the java in hand and slid it across the counter. “You look like shit, by the way. When’s the last time you slept?”
“Night before last.” Or had that been two nights ago? Shit, he’d lost track. Slumping onto one of the stools, he twisted the handle away and brought the mug to his lips.
Eden picked up her cell and tapped the screen, then frowned.
“Waiting on a call?”
She set the phone aside, and the way she chewed the inside of her cheek triggered the wincing bleat of a siren in his head. Whoever she was waiting to hear from was important. In fact, it was imperative she get a call. “Anyone I know?”
She refocused on him and shook her head. “What happens to an unclaimed body at the morgue?”
He rocked back from the counter. What in the hell was she talking about? Ruby? And why would she concern herself with a dead hooker? Their sole connection was her business card, and there was no way Eden could’ve heard about that. The only people who knew were—
Weaver. Kelly dropped his chin to his chest. Howard Weaver had told her. Of course, he had. Out of loyalty to INR, Ltd. compliments of Dirty Deeds.
Well, shit. It didn’t take a cop with Kelly’s experience to figure out where that had led her. “Ruby’s death wasn’t your fault, Eden.”
“So we should just forget about her? Leave her to be another lost soul who…what? What do they do with them, Detective? All those broken hearts nobody wants?”
Christ, the woman made him ache. Way down deep in his bones. He sighed. “They keep them for a while. Until the body count gets high enough the county pays for a mass burial.”
“Well.” She crossed her arms, chin trembling. “That sounds lovely, doesn’t it?”
Why was this so important to her? Hell, maybe he’d pegged her wrong. Kelly scrubbed a hand over his face, shoring up every ounce of willpower not to round the counter and pull her into his arms. Someone who would consider paying the funeral expenses of a complete stranger had a generous heart. More generous and compassionate than pretty much anyone he could name.
