InTooDeep

by Rachel Carrington

  “Sanity is overrated.” She breathed the words, sending soft puffs of minted air toward him.

  God, he wanted to kiss her, to tangle his hands in that thick hair. Riveted, he lifted one hand and brushed his knuckles down the side of her face, the urge to touch her stronger than the inner voice telling him to back away. “Who are you?”

  Their gazes clashed, held, both challenging, demanding. Carley smiled. “I just gave you my name.”

  “And that’s all you’ve given me.”

  “That will have to do for now.”

  “Not acceptable.” He sensed she was pulling back from him, ready to leave the conversation much sooner than he was ready to let her go.

  She reached out and captured his tie with one hand, rolling it around her hand. “If that’s the case, then why are you here?”

  Hunt’s blood pressure climbed. “Maybe the mystery has me intrigued.” No more so than the woman standing in front of him.

  She stood on tiptoe and pressed her cheek to his to whisper in his ear. “And there’s so much more mystery awaiting you.”

  He fisted one hand in her hair and gave it a gentle tug, his body mere seconds away from exploding. “Enough with the games. What do you want from me?”

  Carley’s gaze met his and Hunt caught his breath and held it, knowing he should say something, do something. But that look, that raw pain he saw in her eyes, left him helpless.

  “What is it, Carley? It’s time to be honest. You’ve got my attention so now tell me why you want it.”

  She tugged her hair free from his hand and took a step back and he imagined doors closing that effectively shut out her emotions. “It’s my sister. I haven’t been able to reach her for a few days. When I got into town she wasn’t home, hasn’t been home. I’ve already hired a private investigator but your record tells me you’d be much better at finding her.”

  It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “Did you file a missing persons report?”

  “No.”

  Hunt shook his head. “There’s got to be something more to it than that. You didn’t stage this elaborate game of cat and mouse just to ask me to help you find your sister when, more than likely, given time, the investigator will do just that. So why me?”

  Carley swallowed, brushed the hair back over her shoulder. “The police can’t be involved.”

  His eyebrows winged upward. “Did you forget you targeted a cop? If you didn’t want the boys in blue involved you probably shouldn’t have broken into my home.”

  “In theory that makes sense but my sister is too important to trust to some nameless guy in a uniform. I need to know that someone will be actively looking for her, will follow the leads I provide and won’t stop until he finds her.”

  “What makes you so sure I’m that guy?”

  “Because I always trust my instincts. I have some business coming up out of town soon and I’d like to leave knowing my sister is safe.”

  “And that’s really it?” He wasn’t buying it. Not for a minute. “Why can’t the police be involved?”

  Her gaze hardened. “Because I said so.”

  Hunt shook his head. “No. Sorry. You picked the wrong guy.”

  “Why don’t you think about it? In the meantime, here’s all the information I’ve come up with since I arrived in Charleston.” She passed him a folder, making him wonder where she’d been hiding it. That suit didn’t offer much room for stowing away information. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning.” She turned her back to him and walked away, her steps steady and sure as if somehow she knew she was safe from harm.

  Hunt watched her until she was almost out of sight and then he called her name, at least the only one he knew. When she stopped, he jogged halfway to her. “Don’t count on my agreeing to help.”

  “Don’t count on my giving up.”

  He didn’t stop her when she walked away from him this time. Standing in the middle of White Point Gardens, he thought of all the reasons why he shouldn’t have let her walk away. Things like his sworn duty to uphold the law. He should have arrested her, taken her in to the station and booked her.

  Instead he already knew what his answer would be when she called him tomorrow morning. He’d help her find her sister, if for no other reason than to find out more about her.

  If Carley thought he was good at finding people, she had no idea how good he was at discovering the truth about them.

  The ringing of the phone made Franklin jump, and he cursed. When had he gotten so damn jittery? His hand shook when he silenced the annoying sound with a press of a button. He didn’t have time to talk to anyone now.

  Sweat popped out on his forehead and he slumped into the chair behind his desk. What in the hell had gone wrong? It was supposed to be a simple pickup. His two guys had done it hundreds of times before, but this time had been different. The blonde had been different.

  Franklin dropped his head to his desk, thankful only a small skeleton crew worked the station after midnight. He could be alone, away from everyone, including Rena.

  He’d promised her everything would be okay, but things weren’t even in the same room with okay. In his research he’d discovered something Rena wasn’t going to like, which meant he was going to pay for her displeasure.

  Their latest take had more than just family. She had a whole shitload of trouble.

  One hand skittered across the manila folder holding all the pertinent information about the blonde. Why in the hell hadn’t his guys been paying better attention? They said they’d followed her, had seen no evidence of family in the area, but that hadn’t made a damn bit of difference once Franklin had discovered the woman’s real identity.

  Who knew a schoolteacher would be living under an assumed identity and that her father had been one of the most elusive thieves in the twentieth century? The son of a bitch had died without ever spending one night behind bars. That should have been the end to Franklin’s problems…except the schoolteacher’s sister had taken over the family business. And from what little information he could gather about her, she took her job quite seriously. Almost as seriously as she took her family.

  The sisters were close, as evidenced by their phone records. No wonder the bitch had come looking for the little blonde. And this thief had followed in her father’s footsteps when it came to the law. Now he was left trying to figure out how he was supposed to catch a thief who had never been caught.

  He’d have to fix this. Take care of the situation. The thought nauseated him. If there was one thing he’d never done, it was murder. But he didn’t see any other solution. Now that the possibility stared him in the face he could only think of the blonde chained inside the warehouse, the blonde who didn’t know she had only a few hours left to live.

  “Brandon.” Hunt snapped his name into the cell, more annoyed with his lack of control than the caller. His muscles had been stretched taut since Carley had left and not even a walk around the gardens had helped.

  And that scent. Damn. It still lingered in the air, clung to his skin.

  “We got a hit off those fingerprints.” Dave’s voice finally registered.

  “What?” He rubbed one hand over his face, heard the rasp of the five o’clock shadow.

  “The fingerprints on Mrs. Buttle’s door—we got a hit off of them. Actually, we got a couple of hits, but one was a Meals on Wheels guy whose alibi is rock-solid. The other set, however, that’s someone you’re gonna want to talk to.”

  What Hunt really wanted to do was forget the case for the evening and find Carley. He needed to—

  “Name’s Morgan. Carley Morgan, and in case you don’t recognize the name, she’s on Interpol’s list of most wanted. High-end thief, specializing in artwork, mainly. Her sister’s Mrs. Buttle’s neighbor.”

  Hunt lost track of everything Dave said after the mention of Carley’s name. It could be just a coincidence. There were other women named Carley. Granted, it wasn’t that common of a name but still…

  “Hey, a
re you listening to me?”

  “Yeah, I’m just… No. I’m not.” He blew out a breath and leaned against the hood of his car. “The woman who broke into my house. Her first name’s Carley.”

  “Oh shit,” Dave mumbled. “Well I don’t have a last known address so we don’t have a door to go knock down.”

  “I know how to get in touch with her.”

  “Figures. Okay. I can meet you in twenty. There’s nothing in her background to indicate she’s a killer but she might have been the last one to see Mrs. Buttle alive. So going alone isn’t a good idea.”

  “Actually, it’s the best way.” He hung up before Dave could say anything else.

  Oh yeah. He’d find Carley all right, but she wouldn’t like it when he did.

  Chapter Four

  The knock startled her and Carley leaped to her feet, the glass of Chardonnay dropping from her hand. A fist pounded on the door again just as the grandfather clock chimed 2 a.m. She cursed as the liquid spread across the light beige carpeting.

  “Carley, it’s Detective Brandon.” He beat the wood again, this time much more loudly.

  Her heart stopped momentarily. How had he found her? It wasn’t possible. She’d covered her tracks too well. Her mind spun even as she walked to the door. “I heard the first knock.” She turned the lock and twisted the doorknob as she spoke, and when the door swung open Hunt filled the entranceway, his broad shoulders touching each side of the frame.

  He didn’t immediately speak but the look on his face spoke volumes. Anger filled the depths of his eyes and his jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle throbbed.

  She watched him for a long moment, observing the set of his shoulders and the tension in his hand as it held on to the doorframe. And mentally calculated what she should say next.

  “I believe I said I’d call you.” The comment wasn’t really necessary but it was better than silence. And considering the sight of Brandon in her doorway had taken her breath away, she thought she was damn lucky she’d been able to force any words past her tight throat.

  “Yeah, I heard.” He walked into the suite, one eyebrow rising at the elegant quarters. “Not one to skimp on luxury, are you, Carley? Or would you prefer that I call you Ms. Morgan?”

  The question kicked her heartbeat into overdrive. She’d used her cover name since she’d arrived in Charleston, so his knowledge of her real identity caused the muscles in the back of her neck to tighten. But she’d always been one to land on her feet so now that he knew who she was, she’d just have to use that to her advantage a bit earlier than she would have liked.

  She pushed the door shut and turned to face him. “At this point it doesn’t really matter.”

  Hunt spun around. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t haul your ass in tonight, and since you’re a damn career criminal, suspected in a stream of high-end robberies up and down the east coast, whatever you give me had better be good.”

  She ignored the request, choosing instead to focus on what was most important. “How did you find me?”

  “Since I’m the one with the badge, I’ll be asking the questions.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter who I am. I came to you because my contacts said I could trust you. That was all that was important to me, not your badge.”

  “Stop.” The one word, laced with an undercurrent of fury, stabbed the air. Before she could respond Hunt held up one hand. “No more games. No more lies.”

  “I’m not lying about my sister.”

  “Why should I believe you? You’re a common thief, living the high life out of other people’s pockets. Do you really think anything you can say or do is going to convince me to trust you enough to help you?”

  Holding on to her control by a thin thread, Carley walked closer to him, stopping several inches inside his personal space. “You don’t have to trust me. You don’t even have to like me, but you’ll help me because that’s who you are.” She could only pray her voice sounded more determined than she felt.

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth from the start?”

  “Oh and I’m sure you’d have listened to me the second I told you who I was.”

  He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like irritation. “And you think it’s going to help matters now that I know? Cops don’t make a habit of trusting thieves, Carley. Must have something to do with the criminal aspect.”

  Carley’s hands clenched into fists. “You can call me whatever you want to call me but I need to make sure that my sister is safe before I leave. So was I right? Are you going to help me?”

  “You can’t be seriously thinking I’m going to put my career on the line. My partner knows about you. If I walk out of this room without arresting you I’ve just set myself up for an IA investigation. I’ll pass.” Reaching behind him, he extracted a set of handcuffs.

  She took a step backward, eyeing the bracelets like they were acidic. She’d expected resistance but this was taking things a bit too far. If Hunt wouldn’t help her then she’d have to figure out another way. She couldn’t do that behind bars.

  “There’s no way out, Carley.” Hunt read her mind, flicking a glance toward the door. “But if you think you can make it there before I can, give it a shot.” He transferred his gaze to her face then caressed her body with a long, slow look. “I might even enjoy the challenge.”

  The response gave her pause. She’d never liked limited options. Time for some recon. “You don’t really want to arrest me, Hunt. You and I both know that.”

  He dangled the handcuffs from the tip of his index finger. “It’s okay by me if you want to kill some time.”

  She wanted to hit him like she had the first night she’d met him. This time she’d probably enjoy it more. “If all I wanted was to kill time, I could think of more pleasant ways to do it.” Tipping her head to one side, she studied him with a long look of her own that did its job. Hunt shifted from one foot to the other and she resisted the urge to smile.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched but otherwise he showed no outward expression. “Why are you really here, Carley? Is there some big score? You got a job to do? Let me guess. Some rich bastard has a Monet coming and you’re here to make sure your client gets it instead. How did I do?”

  Her eyes flashed, her temper beginning a slow boil. She wasn’t used to being interrogated. It wasn’t a feeling she cared for. Regardless of what Hunt Brandon thought of her, she was far more than just a common criminal. She was an artist, one who took great pride in her work and, while illegal, it never harmed the innocent.

  “Go to hell.” She jerked her head toward the door. “I believe it’s that way.”

  In two strides he stood before her, not touching her, just staring down at her from his height advantage. He leaned in and the warm aroma of aftershave engulfed her, momentarily distracting her.

  “I’ll go, but I’m taking you with me.”

  Her heart began to pump wildly in time with her temper. Control slipped another notch then faded from her grasp completely when cold steel circled her wrist. She tried to pull away but Hunt was too fast, already tugging the other arm behind her back as well.

  “Hunt, don’t do this.” She’d known she was taking a risk when she approached him but her contact had assured her he was fair, that he wouldn’t judge her in spite of his career.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “Faron gave me your name.” She used the only ace in the hole she had—the name of her contact.

  Still holding her wrist, Hunt stepped back to see her face. “How do you know Faron?”

  “He works with me.”

  “You’re lying. Faron’s not a thief.”

  “No, but he’s one hell of a technology wizard. How do you think I broke into the Metropolitan Museum of Art without getting caught? He knows more about computers than Bill Gates ever will. If you don’t believe me, call him. His number’s in my cell.”

  “I know
his fucking number,” Hunt snapped, his eyes blazing. “He was my father’s best friend.”

  “I know.” She hadn’t wanted to tell him, had promised Faron she wouldn’t but she’d run out of options.

  Hunt dropped her wrist. “Why would he give you my name?”

  “Because he knew I needed someone I could trust if my sister was in trouble.”

  “You don’t even know if she is. So why take the chance? Why come to a cop for help when you know you could be risking your own freedom?”

  “I’d risk anything for Dani.”

  His index finger touched her chin, lifted it so he could look into her eyes. “You’re serious.” His deep voice carried only the barest hint of disbelief.

  She tipped her head back, challenging him with her gaze. “Even thieves can love. Now will you help me?”

  He continued to study her for a long moment, his gaze never wavering off hers. “Yes.”

  His response took her aback. She’d expected more questions, more indecision, but one look at Hunt’s face told her he was as serious as she.

  She wasn’t sure the exact moment his expression changed and lust flared into his eyes but the second it happened her breath stalled in her lungs. His gaze dropped to her lips and she licked them, wiping away the dryness. Her blood pounded in her ears as he closed the remaining inches of space between them. “Should we shake on it?” His fingers curled around the nape of her neck.

  She shivered and mentally cursed at what she considered to be a sign of weakness. “I trust you.”

  “I imagine you would have to since your choices are limited.”

  Her palms pressed against his chest. “Actually, I have a list of others who are just as good at finding someone as you are.” The lie slipped easily from her lips and Hunt responded with a quick laugh.

  “I doubt it.”

  A spark of lightning danced in the air, electric and captivating. Desire sparked and lingered. Carley forgot to breathe, and as his hand stroked the side of her face her stomach knotted. Leaning in, he grazed her chin with his teeth and a quicksilver shiver tore down her spine.