Wanting You

by Leslie A. Kelly

  “It’s amazing what you can do when you’re not given any other choice but to fight.”

  He nodded. “That’s exactly right. You were exactly right. Too many people think it’s better to go along than to resist, but with someone like him, you’d have regretted it forever if you hadn’t tried to get away.”

  “And then you were there,” she whispered, staring into that strong face, unable to look away from the warm mouth that had kissed her with such sweet and tender passion the night before.

  God, how could there be so many facets to one man? He’d been brutal with her attacker, professional with his colleagues, firm with the press, commanding when figuring out what to do with her. He’d been thoughtful, accommodating, noble, and sexy as hell. And then so angry at her. All in the space of a few hours.

  What, she wondered, might she learn about the man given more time?

  And how might she get that time so she could find out?

  “So why did you have to come back here again for this early meeting?” he asked as they resumed walking toward the bank of elevators.

  She pulled her stare away and ordered her thoughts.

  “I need access to some sensitive files on some of the cases I’m writing about.”

  He snorted. “That’ll be fun.”

  True. The case files for a lot of these crimes were simply revolting. It took a lot of fortitude—and sometimes liquid courage—for Evie to really dig into them.

  “Anyway, I came in yesterday to plead my case and got some resistance. Fortunately, one of the members of the police commissioner’s board is a fan of my books, so I suspect word was passed down that I should get what I want. But I don’t think the captain I met with—Avery—is very happy about it. He’s making me work for them.”

  Rowan chuckled as they entered the elevator. “He would. Guy’s old school. He’ll put you through hoops before letting you look at a single thing.”

  Although she assumed he had other business in the building, and she would see him for the identification later, Rowan accompanied her up to the sixth floor. They walked together to the Administrative Services offices, to Captain Avery’s door. The man’s assistant, a uniformed officer, ushered them inside, announcing them to the captain. Avery, a broad-chested African American man with short graying hair, sat behind his desk. Opposite him sat another cop, this one maybe in his midthirties, tall and good-looking, with sandy-colored hair and green eyes.

  Evie recognized him, though she couldn’t remember his name. Carter? Connor? Cooper? Something like that. She’d met him yesterday afternoon when she came in before going down to the Cecil. He had insisted on escorting her out of the building when she left, his attitude more flirtatious than informative.

  The blond-haired cop walked over, extending his hand. “Miss Fleming, I’m so glad I get to see you again. I was just talking to Captain Avery about your project.”

  “Can it, Carlton,” barked the gruff captain.

  Right. Lieutenant Carlton, that was his name. One thing she did easily remember about him was that he was trying way too hard to be friendly and had made her uncomfortable. That had been before last night’s assault. Right now, the only man she felt completely comfortable with was Rowan Winchester, so she really wished Carlton would go away.

  Avery gestured toward another empty chair. “Take a seat, Ms. Fleming.” Then he turned his attention to Rowan. “Winchester, what’re you doing here?”

  A quick glance at Rowan told her he was tense for some reason. He wasn’t heading off to tend to his own business but was instead staring at Carlton, who was staring at Evie. The vibe was noticeable, and uncomfortable.

  “He’s actually with me,” she said to Avery. “Detective Winchester came to my aid last night and got me out of a very bad situation.”

  “What happened?” Carlton asked, leaning closer to her. His hand dropped onto hers, which rested on the armchair. “Are you all right?”

  She cast a quick glance at Rowan and saw the way his brow was pulled down and his eyes were narrowed. He didn’t like the other man, that much was obvious.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she said, sliding her hand free.

  “I heard about what happened,” the captain said, leaning back in his seat and crisscrossing his hands to rest on his chest. She suspected he was not one to give praise, because he sounded grudging when he added, “Good job, Winchester.”

  “Not a problem, sir.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, though. How’d you end up here with our illustrious visitor this morning?”

  Rowan opened his mouth, then closed it again. She could almost see the wheels churning in his brain. Taking a crime victim home with you and putting her up for the night probably wasn’t in any LAPD instruction books. So, before he could answer, she quickly explained.

  “Some reporters showed up last night and were pretty persistent. Plus I was a little shaky and didn’t feel capable of driving, so the detective drove me home.”

  Not a lie, since she didn’t mention whose home.

  “He had to bring me back to view a lineup, which is scheduled for later this morning.”

  Avery nodded, accepting the explanation. “So, Miss Fleming, Lieutenant Carlton here was just offering to help you with your project.”

  She stiffened. Carlton had not done or said anything inappropriate. Far from it—in fact, he’d been overly friendly and charming. Which, to be honest, kind of creeped her out. Ted Bundy had supposedly been pretty charming too.

  Her instinctive reaction didn’t surprise her given what she did for a living. The research she’d done on dark crimes perpetrated on helpless victims lurked deep in her brain, leaving her far more cautious about strangers than most. Which made it even more unusual that she’d let Rowan take her back to his brother’s place last night. Funny how quickly she’d trusted him.

  Maybe someone saving you from assault made the get-to-know-you phase of a relationship—friendship—easier to skip over.

  “I really don’t need any assistance. I’ve done a lot of investigative research. Plus I’m sure Lieutenant Carlton is too busy to waste his time babysitting me,” she said.

  “It truly isn’t a problem, Miss Fleming—Evie, isn’t it?”

  She ignored the pushy cop, still staring at the captain.

  “I wasn’t sure about giving you access to so much material,” said Avery. He cast a hard stare at Evie. “And then I realized it didn’t matter what I say. This morning, I was informed from above that you are going to get what you want whether I liked it or not.”

  Feeling a little like a kid sitting in the principal’s office, she merely gulped.

  “But with this incident last night, and the reporters—damn vultures—I’m not so sure how to handle this.” He cleared his throat. “I did some checking up on you last night and saw what’s going on with the Angstrom case. No wonder you’re in the spotlight.” Another throat clear. “Nice work there. Took some guts to do what you did.”

  It was a grudging compliment, but she greatly appreciated it coming from the gruff, no-nonsense man. Despite the gruffness, there was something likable about him.

  “Anyway, nobody wants anything else to happen to you.”

  Nobody meaning his superiors?

  “I am going to make sure you are looked after.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “It’s not up to you,” he said, piercing her with a stare. “I don’t know what other police departments you’ve worked with, but we’re not in the habit of handing over access to just anyone. This is a highly secured building, and you will have to be escorted at all times.”

  “I can help Ms. Fleming with her research and make sure she comes to no further harm,” Carlton insisted.

  “Who’s gonna do your job, Carlton? We’re talking about more than a couple of days in the file room.” Avery frowned again. “I heard this morning that your research will also include visits to some crime scenes that are still available. It sure would g
ive the department a black eye if something else happened to you while you’re in town.”

  Am I gonna get detention or expulsion?

  “We can reassign Burke to cover my work for a week or so, I’m sure.”

  Carlton was nothing but persistent, and he was turning her off more by the moment. Evie couldn’t help casting a quick glance at Rowan, who stood in the doorway to the office, though there was no real reason for him to have remained. He still wore the glower. Now, though, his thick arms strained against the sleeves of his shirt, and she saw the way his hands clenched and unclenched into fists.

  He looked furious…at Carlton.

  His dislike of the other man rolled off him in powerful waves. Which made Evie even less anxious for Carlton’s help with her research. She really didn’t want to spend a lot of time in a musty room, a car, and crime scenes with a man who was so deeply disliked by someone she already trusted.

  “You know there’s some sites that’re gonna be off-limits. People live in some of those houses now,” Avery said.

  “I know that.”

  “Some places were torn down—good riddance.”

  “Yes, of course, but I have made contacts with a few current owners, occupants, and former investigators, and have gained permission to visit and interview some of them.” Seeing his face redden, she hurriedly added, “And I would like to go out to Spahn Ranch.”

  Avery’s frown deepened. “Not very easy—or pleasant—ground.”

  “Sir, really,” said Carlton, his tone cajoling, “this isn’t a problem for me.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “If need be, I can take some of it as time off.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Carlton’s voice rose. “You might not know this, but I’m really interested in writing and might be able to help. Plus I know a lot about the historical crimes in the city.”

  Oh God, a wannabe writer? This was worse than when she’d feared he was flirting with her. Other writers tended to want to pick brains, soak up knowledge, and ask intrusive questions. How much do you make? Where do you get your ideas?

  Then there was the oh-so-frequent I’m gonna write a book someday and make boatloads of money.

  She was often tempted to reply to the dentist, or the pilot, or the engineer with, “Oh, you know, I’ve always wanted to perform a root canal/fly a 747/design a car.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Evie suddenly realized she’d been hearing those words faintly repeated. They simply hadn’t registered in her mind, so focused had she been on arguing Carlton out of the job.

  “What was that, Winchester?” Avery barked.

  Yeah, what was that, Winchester?

  Evie swung around in her chair and looked up at him, her mouth circled, her eyes wide. Had he really said what she’d thought he said?

  He crossed his thick arms over his chest and growled, “I said I’ll do it.”

  “Why?” she asked. Seeing his mouth tighten, she quickly added, “I mean, I appreciate the offer, but can you really afford to take the time?”

  She didn’t ask the more obvious question: Why would he want to? Despite his kindness, she still had the impression after what had happened last night that he wanted to get away from her, and stay away. Now he was offering to be her babysitter while she worked on a project he obviously disdained?

  Avery chuckled. “Good idea, Winchester. Just the thing.”

  If anything, Rowan’s frown deepened when the captain agreed with him.

  “I mean, you being Cop Hollywood and all, and Miss Fleming being an out-of-town celebrity. I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about. I heard you fell into that trafficking case by accident and need to get off the streets for a while anyway, right?”

  His jaw hard, Rowan nodded once.

  “I volunteered first,” Carlton insisted, rising from his chair.

  Nanny-nanny-boo-boo much?

  Avery put a hand up, palm out, to stop the other man. “No, this is perfect. Let’s give it a week for now. Winchester. You help Miss Fleming with her research and see to it that nothing happens to her when she’s visiting these sites.”

  Rowan nodded once, his eyes the tiniest bit narrowed. “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s done, then.”

  Done. She’d just gained a nanny/bodyguard, neither of which she needed.

  But honestly, deep down, she couldn’t deny the tiniest hint of excitement that Rowan had volunteered for the job.

  “Is that all, Captain?” Rowan asked.

  Avery nodded and waved a hand. “Yeah.” But before Rowan’s hand even hit the doorknob, he added, “Hey, since you’re not gonna be dealing with junkies and pushers for a while, how about shaving that crap off your face?”

  “That an order, sir?”

  Avery grunted. “I’ll call your captain and get you temporarily reassigned.”

  “Fine,” Rowan said.

  Evie looked back and forth between the three men, not entirely understanding what had just happened, why it had happened, or the undercurrents in the room. The only thing she knew for certain was that Rowan was going to be by her side while she was working on this project. They’d have to spend a lot of time together, at least for the next week.

  That meant she didn’t have to try to come up with a reason to see him again, which she’d been trying to do all morning.

  So while Carlton looked ready to snarl, Avery looked ready to laugh, and Rowan just stood there all big, brawny, silent, powerful man, Evie offered the three of them a bright smile and said, “Wonderful. We’ll get started right away.”

  * * *

  Now his brothers were really gonna fucking kill him.

  Had he really done what he thought he’d done? Was he actually going to help the beautiful blonde he’d had wild, sexy dreams about last night with a book that could destroy his family?

  “I must be outta my mind,” he mumbled.

  “You said that, not me,” said Evie from the passenger seat beside him. She didn’t even look up, continuing to peruse the thick folder on her lap, which contained copies of old black and white photos, reports, and newspaper clippings.

  They were the first words they had exchanged since they’d gotten into the car.

  After leaving Avery’s office, the two of them had walked in silence to the elevator. While Evie had done her interview and lineup with the assigned detective on her assault case, Rowan went for a second debriefing with the head of the Detective Support and Vice division. The drug case he’d been working, which had led into a human trafficking one, had caught attention way up the ladder. Rowan knew he was being looked at now and that he’d probably be offered a promotion.

  Frankly, he would rather keep doing what he was doing at the 77th. But having gotten far more involved than he’d expected to in the trafficking case, he knew that might not be possible. He’d been down in the dregs for weeks; it might be hard for him to regain the relative anonymity he would need to go back to doing his regular job hunting down street dealers.

  “So do you really think the suspect will plead guilty to avoid trial?” she asked, still not looking over at him. He sensed she was trying to break the ice between them, ice that had existed since he’d made his insane offer up in Avery’s office. So much for the relaxing of tension between them this morning on the drive in. He and Evie seemed to be a yo-yo on a string, going up and down, never quite steady.

  Remembering the way she had been shaking, her face completely pale when she came out of the viewing room after looking through a one-way glass panel at a group of men, one of whom had brutally attacked her less than twenty-four hours ago, he went along and tried to move past the tension.

  “Yeah, I really do. The guy’s rap sheet could wallpaper an entire house. With his record of violent assault, he’d be crazy to go in front of a jury.”

  She made a tiny sound. He glanced over and saw her throat work as she swallowed down that tidbit about her attacker. Shoulda kept his mouth shut about Frankie “Fir
ecracker” Lee’s history. Smooth move, jackass.

  “And he won’t get out on bail until then?”

  “If a judge gives him bail, it’ll be so high he’ll never be able to come up with it.” He changed the subject. “You sure you don’t want to go get your car and take it back to your place, maybe change clothes?”

  “I told you I washed these,” she said with a shrug, not sounding like she cared at all.

  Although she looked good—stylish, if he was any judge of such things—she wasn’t matched head to toe. He doubted that kind of stuff mattered to her. He would bet she spent more money on books and travel than she did on clothes and shoes.

  “And the car is fine where it is. I really don’t want to waste any time.”

  “Okay, you’re in charge.”

  As they had walked to his car from the headquarters building, Evie had silently handed him a list of the sites she wanted to visit, intending to get started right away. Rowan believed he’d mumbled something reasonable in response, though he wasn’t sure since he’d still been in shock over his own impulsive offer.

  Damn Carlton. The creepy bastard couldn’t keep his crawling eyes off Evie, even in front of his own boss.

  And damn Avery with his obnoxious sense of humor and old-school way of dealing with things that pissed him off. As, obviously, the Evie Fleming situation, Carlton’s pleading, and apparently Rowan’s beard, had.

  Now here he was, because of his own stupidity, knowledge of Carlton’s sleazy reputation, and some weird protective instinct he had for a woman he barely knew, heading to the scene of a crime that took place decades ago.

  “So Glassell, huh? Starting right with Ramirez?”

  She didn’t ask how he knew they were going to the apartment of a Night Stalker victim. Some LA crimes were so infamous, every cop knew the details of them, even from a distance of decades.

  “The manager agreed to show me around. Somebody lives in the first victim’s original apartment, but another ground floor one that’s on the opposite side of it is vacant.”

  “What do you expect to find after all these years?”