"You're a fast learner," he breathed into her ear, gently nipping the sensitive lobe. "You've got this treatment thing down." She gasped when he lifted her shirt and trailed his callused fingers over her belly.
He traced each of her ribs as he moved upward, until she was writhing against him, her tongue dancing with his. When he reached her running bra, he tried to slip his hand beneath the thick elastic that held it in place. But it was too tight. He could only get one finger beneath the elastic.
"Jesus, Marini. Is this some kind of chastity bra?" He pulled out his finger, let the band snap back into place and danced his fingers over the slick material instead. He cupped her breasts, testing the weight of them in his hands. Crept close to her nipples, but never touched them.
She ground her mouth into his, tangled their tongues. "Take it off," she panted. "Now. Get rid of it."
Ryan lifted her tee shirt. He'd begun to draw it over her head when the buzzer rang. Stopped. Rang again.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. His eyes were completely dark, his face taut with arousal. "The pizza," she whispered.
"Not interested in pizza," he murmured, tugging at her lobe.
The doorbell rang again, and he slid his thumbs over her nipples. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Pressed into his hands for a long moment.
Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tried to steady herself. Couldn't quite manage.
Tugging her shirt down with a trembling hand, she clambered off his lap, stumbling when she tried to stand up. Ryan stood, as well, shifting from side to side as if to relieve the pressure at his groin. "I'll get it," he said, reaching for his wallet.
"You can't go to the door like that," she said, running her hand lightly over the hard ridge of his penis, hidden beneath the denim.
"God, Livvy," he groaned. "Not helping."
"I'll get it," she said, pressing the button to unlock the door downstairs. She shoved her hands through her hopelessly tangled hair, afraid the delivery guy would know exactly what they'd been doing.
Fumbling in her bag as she heard the guy climbing the stairs, she found her wallet and extracted some bills with shaking hands. It was far too much, but maybe he'd be so awed by his tip that he wouldn't notice the sex vibes swirling through her living room.
When he knocked on the door, she opened it and shoved the money at him. "Thanks, Teddy," she said, grabbing the box from his hands. "See you next time."
"You got it, Livvy," the kid said, widening his eyes at the amount of money she'd given him. "Wow! Thanks, Liv."
"You're welcome," she said as she closed the door.
Leaning against it, she watched the pizza box wobble in her shaky hands. Damn it! Had Teddy and the pizza been an unwelcome interruption?
Or had he rung her doorbell in the nick of time?
Unwelcome. And just in the nick of time.
Swallowing hard, she tottered over to the couch and dropped the box on the coffee table. "You want a beer? A glass of wine?"
"Neither," he said, his eyes locked on hers. "Pizza can wait. It'll reheat."
She dropped onto the arm of the couch. "Yeah. It will." She stared at her visibly trembling hands. Arousal swirled through her, sharp and insistent. "But maybe we need to think about this a little more."
"I've been thinking about it since the moment I saw you at the conservatory." He wrapped an arm around her waist and bounced her onto the cushion beside him. Tucked her against him. "Believe me, I've studied it from every angle. Don't see a downside here."
He caressed her upper arm as if it was normal for them to be sitting so close together. As if they made out on her couch all the time.
She didn't move away. "Teddy ringing my bell was kind of a mood killer," she finally said.
"I thought I was ringing your bell." His fingertips shivered over her ear, and she sucked in a breath. Quivered.
"You were," she said, sitting up reluctantly. This was a mistake. They were working together. She couldn't get involved with him. "Until Teddy showed up and I came to my senses."
You want him. You know you do. Who would find out? The devil sat on her shoulder, whispering temptation into her ear. Her breath sawed in and out.
"This wasn't a good idea," she finally said.
"Really? I think it was one of the all-time great ideas." He took her hand and angled to face her. "Why don't you think so?"
She swallowed. Stood up. "We're working together, Ryan. What if Bates' defense attorney found out we were sleeping together? He might try to get all the evidence we collect thrown out of court."
"You think we're going to be talking about Bates' case in bed?" He stood, as well. "Believe me, Livvy, I won't be thinking about anything but you. And I'll make sure you're not thinking of anything else when we're…"
She slapped her palm over his mouth. "God. Don't say it. It's hard enough when you're not talking about it."
He pressed a kiss to her palm. "You're gonna be the responsible adult?"
"Someone has to be," she muttered as she let her hand drop away from his mouth. Breathed in. Out. "Beer or wine?"
He held her gaze for a long moment. Longing swirled through his eyes. His whole body canted toward her, as if an invisible cord already bound them together. "Beer's good," he finally said.
She fled to the kitchen, where she opened two bottles of Blue Moon and carried them back to the living room, along with plates and napkins. The bottles clinked together in her right hand as she walked, the rhythmic noise beating out a tattoo of do it. Do it. Do it.
She sat next to him on the couch, their thighs touching. Neither of them said much while they ate. Heat leached through his jeans and her running tights, making her ache for more. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She wanted to tangle her foot around his. Press her calf against his.
She wanted to say 'the hell with the job'.
Instead, she took another bite of pizza. She didn't taste it. All she could taste was Ryan's mouth on hers.
After Ryan ate the last piece of pizza, he stood up. "I'm going to go. Give you a chance to think without being distracted."
"You think you're a distraction, Ward?" she tossed back before she thought.
"Possibly." A tiny grin played at the corners of his mouth. "You tell me, Livvy." He leaned closer, until she could see the golden flecks glittering in his eyes. "I don't want to pressure you. I want you to come to me because you can't stay away. I want you to want me as much as I want you."
I already do, she wanted to say.
Instead, she said, "Thank you." She tugged at the front of his sweatshirt to bring him closer. "See you tomorrow."
"You will." He backed her toward the door, pressed her hard against it. "Just in case you've forgotten…" He took her mouth, sweeping his tongue along hers, tangling them together. He tasted of beer and pizza and Ryan.
She was melting into him when he broke away. "I'll see you tomorrow. Don't forget about," he touched her lips, "this."
He slipped out the door, waited on the landing until he heard her lock engage. As she listened to his footsteps getting fainter, she slid to the floor, her fingers touching her mouth.
"I won't forget."
Chapter 8
It was still dark when Livvy woke to the insistent buzzing of her phone. Fumbling on her night table, she finally closed her fingers around it and flopped onto her back. Stabbed the 'call' button.
"This better be good," she said, her voice sharp with irritation.
"Good morning to you, too, Liv. This is Brendan. Your future brother-in-law."
"Hey, Bren," Livvy said, struggling to sit up. "Sorry. I thought it was someone from work."
"No worries. I'm used to cranky in the morning. Your sister is even worse than you."
"You, on the other hand, sound disgustingly chipper for this ungodly hour." Livvy glanced at the clock. Six-thirty a.m.
"You'd sound chipper too, if you woke up to a gorgeous woman kiss…"
"You're tal
king to my sister, you jerk." Cilla's voice in the background. "Watch what you're saying, or you won't be waking up like that again anytime soon."
"Right. Anyway, Liv, the reason I'm calling so early is that I have to be in court all afternoon. My testimony got bumped forward. So I'm going to round up Philby as soon as I'm showered and dressed. Want to meet me at the station in about an hour?"
"Sounds great, Brendan. Thanks."
"See you later," he said and hung up.
She was heading out the door forty-five minutes later when her phone rang again. Brendan. Pressing the call button, she said, "I was just walking out the door. Fifteen minutes, tops."
"You don't have to hurry," Brendan said. The murmur of several different voices hummed in the background. "Philby's dead. Best time of death estimate is four hours ago."
Livvy dropped her bag onto the floor and stumbled into a chair. "From the number of people I hear in the background, I'm guessing it wasn't a suicide. Or an accident."
"No," Brendan said, his voice grim. "It was an execution. I found him on the floor near the front door. My theory? Someone woke him up, Philby opened the door, the guy stepped inside and put the gun to his head. Two shots. Between the eyes."
Nausea roiled Livvy's stomach. She'd sent Brendan there. She was the one who'd gone to Freddie Sampson's house. Orchestrated Jerry Williams visit to Connor's station.
Was she responsible for Philby's death? Yes. She was.
"Oh, my God," she said, her voice muted with shock. "What should I…what do you do now?"
"The first thing I want you to do is go to my station. Stay there. I don't know how long I'll be at the scene, but I want to make sure you're safe. You understand?"
She'd never heard Brendan's cop voice. The one that issued orders instead of asking. She swallowed. "Yes. I'll go straight to your station."
"Don't stop for coffee or breakfast," he ordered. "In fact, I'll send a squad car to follow you in."
"Don't do that," she said. "I'll get there safely. I'll be really careful."
"You want Cilla to come over?"
"No. My car's in the garage. I can walk down the rear stairs and get right in. I'll be fine. Go do your job, Bren. And thanks for the heads-up." She ended the call before Brendan could reply.
Her hand shook as she picked up her briefcase and headed toward the rear of her house. Ryan. She stumbled to a stop. He needed to know. He'd given her Philby's name.
She sank into a chair at her tiny kitchen table and pulled up his contact info. Touched the call button.
"Ward," he said, his voice rough with sleep.
"Ryan, it's Livvy," she said.
"Hey." She heard his bedding rustle, as if he sat up. "Good morning. How are you doing?" His voice got even rougher. "Did you miss me last night?"
"Yes," she said softly. "I did." She wasn't going to lie to him. "But that's not why I called." She swallowed. "I just got off the phone with Brendan. He went to Carl Philby's house and found him dead. Shot twice in the head."
Silence. Then, "What did he tell you to do?" All the softness in Ryan's voice had disappeared. Now he sounded just like Brendan. Hard. Taking control.
"He told me to go to his station. I was walking out the door when he called."
"Are you on your way there?" Ryan asked sharply.
"No. I'm still at home. I called you first." She took a shaky breath. "Since you gave me Philby's name."
"Thank God. Stay where you are. I'm on my way over. Be there in fifteen."
"You don't have to…"
"Don't leave your place, Livvy," he interrupted. "I'll be right there."
"Okay. I'll wait for you."
"Good." The phone went dead. Livvy slid it into the pocket of her briefcase and headed back to the living room. She wandered to the windows and looked through the bare tree branches at the street below her. There was nothing out of the ordinary. A few people hurried down the sidewalk, heading toward a bus stop or an El station. The street was a patchwork of empty parking spots along the curb. It looked like any other morning.
Except a man was dead. A man she'd put in the crosshairs.
And from the way Brendan and Ryan had acted, she might need to watch her back, as well.
Twenty minutes later, her buzzer rang insistently. She peered out the window and saw Ryan standing in front of the door. He wore the same hoody he'd had on last night and his hair looked as if someone had taken an eggbeater to it.
She pushed the lock release in her apartment and waited until he knocked on the door. Looked through her peep hole to make sure it was him.
When she opened the door, he stepped inside and wrapped his arms around her. Buried his face in her hair. "You okay?" he murmured against her head.
"Shaken up. Horribly guilty." Winding her arms around his waist, she crowded close to the comforting breadth of his chest. "But otherwise okay."
"Not your fault," he said immediately. His arms tightened around her. "Bates' fault."
His voice was as cold as the winter wind that gusted off Lake Michigan. She clutched him for a long moment, then leaned away. "You and Brendan both scared the crap out of me. 'Stay in your apartment.' 'I'll send a squad car.' 'Don't move.'"
"Thank God Donovan didn't have his head up his ass." He cupped her cheek and leaned forward to brush a kiss over her lips. "And thank God you were smart enough to call me."
"You didn't mind?" she asked. "I know I woke you up."
"Not only do I not mind, I would have been pissed off if you hadn't. I'm the one who told you to contact Philby." He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm driving you into Donovan's station, and I'm staying."
"You don't have to do that," she said, leaning back to study his face. She couldn't help running her fingers through the soft waves of his hair, trying to tame it. "You ran out of your place without even combing your hair."
"Who's gonna give a damn about my hair?" But he smoothed a hand over his head. "You ready to go?"
"Just need my briefcase." She spotted it sitting on the radiator cover in front of the window and grabbed it. "All set."
He clamped his fingers around her wrist. "You were standing at the window?"
"Yes," she said, easing her hand away from the handcuff of his and pressing their palms together instead. "Brendan freaked me out, and you doubled down on it. I was looking for anything that looked out of place. Different."
"Everything looked the same as always. Right?"
When she nodded, he laced their fingers together. "If someone is waiting for you out there, you're not going to see him. Keep your blinds closed and stay away from the windows. I'll put a better lock on your back door today."
She frowned at him. "There's nothing wrong with my lock."
"It's a piece of shit lock. Anyone who wanted to get in here would have it open in about thirty seconds."
"How do you even know what kind of lock I have?" She glanced at her back door, seeing a lock that looked like a million others.
"I can see that pitiful thing from here." He curled his arm around her shoulders, squeezed once, then let her go. "Let's go. Stay behind me."
He trotted down the stairs, and Livvy followed, her heart racing. She'd been nervous before, but now she was terrified. Was it really possible that someone was watching for her? Parked on her street, waiting for her to leave?
Before Ryan opened the front door, he shoved the side of his hoodie back and put his hand on his gun. The weapon was large. Matte black. Ominous-looking.
Finally he stepped outside, his hand still on his weapon. He scanned the street for a long moment, then nodded at her to step out.
He hustled her toward a black SUV, opened the door and practically shoved her inside. Then he ran around to the driver's side, slid in and turned the car on. In a handful of seconds, her building was two blocks behind them.
"Got you a coffee," he said, nodding at the cup holders beneath the console.
"Thank you," she said, reaching for it. "If I was
n't belted in, I'd kiss you."
"I'll take a rain check," he said, his expression relaxing for the first time since she'd opened her door to him.
She took a gulp of the still-hot coffee, then drew in a deep breath. "You didn't have to do this, you know. Come over before you'd even showered. Take me into Brendan's station."
"I know." He glanced over at her. "I wanted to do it. This Bates mess just got a lot messier. A lot more dangerous. And it's my fault you're sucked into it."
"That's not true," she said, swiveling to face him. "If I wasn't working with you, I'd still be working on the Bates case. I'd just be working with someone else."
"I'm the one who gave you those names," he said, his voice grim. "I could have talked to them myself."
"You said they wouldn't talk to you," she said immediately, pleased she'd remembered that detail. "So that was never an option."
"Smart ass," he muttered under his breath as he turned into the parking lot at Brendan's station. "Let's go inside and see what Donovan has."
* * *
Thirty minutes later, clutching a bakery bag and holding a tray of coffees, Ryan pushed through the doors of the nineteenth district. He'd dropped Livvy off, escorted her to the conference room, made sure the desk sergeant knew where she was, then ducked out again.
As he climbed the stairs, he heard the rumble of voices from the conference room above him. A man's voice. Then Livvy's.
"Ryan drove me here." Silence, as if Livvy was composing herself. "He told me Philby would fold if we pressed him." Ryan heard the wobble in her voice. "It's my fault he's dead."
"Ryan?" It sounded like Brendan Donovan. Ward reached the top of the stairs and hesitated at the door.
"Ryan Ward. The guy I'm working with on the Bates case. You know who he is."
"Damn right I know who Ryan fucking Ward is. Why did he drive you over here?"
"Because he wanted to make sure I was safe." A chair scraped against the floor. "What's your problem, Brendan?"
"You're part of my family now. We take care of our own."
Save Me Page 7
