by D. C. Stone
Ooookkkayy.
He pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair.
Bad move! The stench coming from under his arm made him wince.
“Look, I know you probably have things to do,” he said.
She nodded, brows lifted to her hairline, as if saying “no shit.” He went on, “But I do need to find Detective Lopez. You’d be a real sweetheart if you could point me in his direction. I’m here on a case and I don’t know…maybe after I’m done briefing him, you’d like to have dinner with me? That is, if you’re not busy?”
The contortion of her brows twisted before a sly smile spread.
“You’re looking for Charlie, huh?”
Someone groaned, and Trent glared over his shoulder, perplexed. The heavyset guy in need of Tide shook his head and looked away. Irritated at the interruption and apparent lack of man code, Trent turned his attention back to the cute little female.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
The woman shifted and sat in the chair with purposeful, slow movements. She set one foot on the desk, crossed a long leg over the other. Each action played out in slow motion through his lust-filled brain. He shifted, his focus glued to the smooth expanse of a jean-covered thigh, and stepped closer.
Hummidy, hummidy, hummidy.
“And why is it you need Charlie?” The woman ran a hand up the outside of her leg and his attention followed it. His mouth went dry.
“Umm, a case.”
“A case?”
“Yeah.” When silence met him, he realized what was happening. You didn’t have to go through interrogation and interview classes in order to figure it out. He was being led. His gaze snapped to hers, except this time, her face did not look friendly. If the hardening of her mouth was any indication, she looked pissed. And he’d been totally caught just checking her out.
Resigned, he let out a breath.
“Yeah, a case. Look, I’m sorry for all—” He waved a hand between them. “This. Could you just point me in the direction of Detective Lopez?”
Her hard mouth softened and she stood from her chair again, lips turning up at the corners. Leaning into him, her scent surrounded him and he got a whiff of coconut.
His gaze tracked along her face, and dropped to her shirt, which parted as she leaned forward. He about choked as he tried to swallow, his mouth dry as the Arizona desert.
“Well, Agent Rossi.”
Lean forward a little more, please.
“If you could stop staring at my tits for all of two seconds, then I’ll tell where you can find Detective Lopez.”
The noisemaker behind him let out a strangled cough.
He snapped his regard up to hers. Hazel eyes blared with anger. Crap.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Seriously, it has been a long damn day. If you’d just tell me where he is, Miss?” He raised his brows, wanting her name. Good Lord, he wanted her name.
She smiled sweet, the transformation of her face a thing of beauty. “It’s Detective.”
He raised a brow, a sick feeling creeping up his spine. “Detective?” he croaked.
The smile spread to her eyes. “Yes, and to not only help you, but to also answer your question, it’s Detective Lopez. How can I help you, Agent Rossi?”
The noisemaker behind him snorted out a laugh.
Fucking hell!
He released a strangled sound from his throat and racked his mind for ways to backtrack out of this SNAFU. Playing the charming Agent was out of the question, especially if he needed to lead this investigation eventually. And he would have to. Lead it, that is. There was no doubt that this tiny town wouldn’t be able to keep up with the criminal mastermind he suspected they had on the loose.
She chuckled and shook her head, turned toward her computer. “I’m just messing with you, Agent. What can I help you with? Did one of us mess up on some info sharing? I handle a lot of the white collar stuff, but I’m going to need a few minutes to bring myself up to date with the case, so which is it?”
He blinked and looked around for a chair, saw one next to her desk, and sat. The chair put him at an angle from Charlie, who had her back to him and was typing on her computer. She wore a light blue tailored shirt and a shoulder holster with one mean ass handgun tucked beneath her arm. She smelled great.
“I don’t think it’s going to be a case in the system, at least nothing that’s been solved. I’m actually here in reference to a current perp you’re looking for.”
She froze, her hands hovering over her keyboard and turned slightly toward him. Her gaze cast across the office. He turned to see what she was looking at and found the chief’s office. Both the big guy and Echols stood on the other side of the glass, staring back at them, so he continued even as he wondered what all that was about.
“Peeping Tom on the loose? Some guy looking in on women when they change, maybe even some houses with lingerie missing? Any of this sound familiar, Detective?”
She glanced down and he lifted a brow at the puzzling reaction. When she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye, he frowned. Something wasn’t right.
“Yeah, it’s familiar. What about it?”
Ah, hell, here we go. Locals didn’t like it when feds started sniffing around. It seemed Detective Lopez here wasn’t any different.
“Look, I want to work together on this. I’m not here to take anything from you or shut the Nyack Police Department out. Seriously, look at me as your backup, someone who is going to try to stop this guy from committing another crime.”
She studied him and he had the weirdest sinking feeling as he stared in her eyes. It was almost hypnotizing and he shifted, leaned toward her. She sat back and just like that, the spell was broken.
“My backup.” It wasn’t a question.
“Your backup,” he acknowledged. “Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers.
She smirked. “I bet you were no boy scout.”
He let out a surprised laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “You caught me. Not even close. But I can promise you that I really am here to help.”
She continued to study him silently and he had the weirdest feeling she’d been trained by Woolsey. The intensity burning in her gaze had him shifting in his chair.
“What do you suggest, Agent Rossi? To help with the case, that is.” She gave a small smile and blinked in a very feminine fashion. He couldn’t explain how it was girlish when all she’d done is blink, but an almost coy look had come over her features.
Taken aback for a moment, Trent narrowed his eyes. Was she flirting? After that whole show?
“Well, I study and profile criminals. I can help you make a social and psychological assessment of your perp to help narrow the list of suspects. I’ll provide us with direct access to the federal labs to get evidence processed faster. And then, once we catch him—because make no doubt, we will catch him—I can help with giving suggestions and strategies for the interview. Determine the best approach toward gaining a confession.”
“How successful can profiling be to an investigation? Forgive me, but we don’t have one on staff, and even though I learned about profiling in the academy and at the university, it’s not something really relied upon, right?”
He shook his head. “No, you’re right. Or, at least, it didn’t use to be. Now, after several successful cases, the science of profiling has become more prominent. Don’t get me wrong, we can still be mistaken, and then again, there’s always luck in any investigation, like coming across your perp in the act of committing a crime. But I’m hoping to give you all at least a little bit of help.”
She let out a heavy sigh and he read every unspoken word in that small sound.
“I’m not here to take over, Detective. I can assure you that,” Trent said gently, understanding and witnessing this exact same thing in too many other cases the FBI had battled their way into. He wasn’t going to repeat those actions on this case. “I want to help and I want to partner up with you on this.”
She thinn
ed her lips and nodded. “All right, well, I’m not the boss, and apparently, the chief has put you on the case, so, it is what it is. What do you need from me?”
Her number for starters would be nice. He said as much, and knew he wanted it for more than just a professional reason.
She passed him her card and he slid it in his pocket.
“You have a desk I can commandeer until we solve this case?”
She nodded her head to her right. He looked across the aisle. Just on the other side sat two desks mirroring one another. A man with striking green eyes sat facing the door behind Trent, and the other desk, opposite him, was empty. He’d have to sit in a chair, with his back to the main entrance to the room. Something no cop liked to do. He shook his shoulders and tried to dislodge the unease there, and nodded at Charlie Lopez.
“That way, Agent Rossi, I can keep my eye on you,” Charlie said with a smile in her voice.
Startled, he glanced back to her after grabbing his laptop bag. He wasn’t sure before, but she was flirting with him now. The twinkle in her eye said she knew he had the question and enjoyed his flustration.
“And, Detective Lopez?” He cocked his head. “From this angle, apparently I’ll be able to keep my eye on you, too.” He winked and, with that, stood and went to his new desk to get started on this investigation.
Chapter Four
After Rossi explained why he was there, and Pete got over his fit of giggles, Charlie settled back in at her desk. She chewed the inside of her lip, contemplating. Leaning back in the chair, the soft protest of metal blended with the late hour conversations around the station. The sun setting outside pushed an eerie glow through the barred windows, caused shadows to dance along the walls and across crime scene photos. The moving silhouettes on the walls looked like tribal demons celebrating a cast of crime over the community.
Glancing over at Rossi, she tried to focus on what he was saying. Her thoughts jumbled, and instead, all she could pay attention to was an enticing, perfect-shaped ass in her line of view. Jesus, he either needed to sit or she needed to leave. He leaned over his desk searching for the power connection. With each shift of his body, muscles in his rear contracted nicely under dark suit pants. Her concentration went out the window, and if his looks didn’t distract her enough, questions about why he had been added to her case pulled at her. Feds jumping in on local cases wasn’t something that happened every day.
Nyack was not a huge blip on the map. A small town community, it shouldn’t hit the radar of agents from New York City. Somehow, for some reason, it had.
This criminal mastermind seemed to have garnered the attention of the FBI and not only brought them to town, but also caused the feds to step right into her work. Apprehension was heavy at the thought of anyone taking over her case, federal agency or not.
Usually sent out on smaller crimes, shopliftings, underage drinking. She understood why the chief did it, realized he was fulfilling his last promise to her father, the promise to keep her safe, but with years of work under her belt, she was ready for this. She felt prepared to show all of them she could handle it.
A pair of fingers snapped in front of her face, breaking her thoughts. She blinked and focused ahead, realizing she was staring at Agent Rossi’s crotch.
Crap.
Her cheeks heated, and she lifted her gaze over the length of his torso, a flat stomach, across a wide-set of shoulders, and on up the corded distance of his neck. His body was a treat for her eyes, but it was his handsome face that had her sucking in a sharp breath.
If he were a character in a romance novel, the term, “tall, dark, Italian, and handsome,” would be inserted right about here.
Really, what hot-blooded woman wouldn’t kind of swoon over a sexy law enforcement officer dressed to the nines in a dark suit like Trent Rossi? This man knew how to hold someone immobile, how to carry his own, how to take command of any situation he was involved in. Even just being in the room, there was this aura of power that surrounded him, as if he demanded people stop and pay attention to what he had to say. Sure he hadn’t done anything—yet—that led her to believe he’d take over her case entirely. But he could. The FBI could do whatever they please.
He was treading lightly, though. That much she could see in the softness of his face when he listened to what she had to say, in the cautious way he’d respond. But if she gave him any hint that she didn’t know what she was doing, he’d bound in and take the case off her hands. Like a lion waiting for its prey to slip up.
It wasn’t rocket science how she knew this. It’s the training every agent went through. Her reaction to him was a little shocking, she had to admit it. It was also a feeling very new, seeing as she had never had this kind of lapse in attention. She couldn’t keep her eyes from swaying in his direction. Or, from the temptation of his ass. And, from the way she had caught him staring at her chest, he was attracted to her as well.
Growing up in a small town where everyone knew your business, and being in the field she was in, didn’t give her the opportunity to date, much less sleep around. Not that she’d spread her legs for anyone, but a woman had needs, and despite being in a male dominated industry, she was very female, and very much in need sometimes. When all she had were two cats, and a purple vibrator, to go home to, working long hours didn’t look all too bad. She couldn’t cuddle with the vibrator, and her cats weren’t the warm and cuddly type, so going home wasn’t something she looked forward to at all.
Agent Trent Rossi looked as if he was cut from the fantasy of women worldwide. He also didn’t look like one who you’d want to cuddle with, not if his starched suit and quiet, assessing way said anything about him. But she could think of several other things she’d like to do with him, all of which included getting hot and sweaty. A square jaw gave him a rugged look, begging for trouble. Unable to describe his eyes using any color identified, she linked them to the deep recesses of the ocean, a blue so dark they almost passed for black, until they hit the light.
She wanted to swim in those eyes.
Naked.
Charlie repressed a shiver and narrowed her gaze to his wide, plump lips. His mouth curved at the corners mischievously, which caused her to snap her attention up. Devious eyes danced with humor, a knowing look that had her scowling.
“What’s so funny, Agent Rossi?” she snapped.
He crossed his arms over a muscular chest and shook his head. “It’s Trent. And I’ll tell you what’s so funny when you let me know if you like what you were studying.”
A direct taunt. A knowing one, too. The ass.
Tit for tat, she guessed, seeing as she had caught him checking her out earlier and called him on it in front of the detective’s bureau. Whatever. She breathed out a disgruntled sound and stood. She sure as hell wasn’t going to answer his question. At least not when she had to admit to it. “When pigs fly, Agent Rossi.” She stepped past him and pretended to study the crime scene photos when she was doing anything but. The temperature felt as if it had gone up about thirty degrees. Heat spread across her face.
Damn the man and his smoldering, good looks.
“I thought they did, Charlie,” he answered, his voice shaking with laughter.
She barely heard him. Something from the photographs caught her attention. Charlie leaned forward, her concentration on how each of the hairbrushes from the latest victim lined up across the counter. The forensic photographer had attempted to focus on the mirror across from the shower, but from what she saw of the victim’s house, it was anything but organized. “Huh?”
“Pigs,” he answered, like that one word said it all.
She sidestepped and stared at the second victim, drawn to the television remotes lying on the bedside table. All three were spaced at even intervals and centered on the surface. “What about pigs?” What was up with how organized everything was? She shifted to another photo.
“I thought they flew already.”
She blinked and turned toward him. “What are
you talking about?”
Trent leaned against her desk, his arms crossed over his chest and smirked, looking downright edible. “Well, depending on what type of pig you’re talking about, I do believe they already fly. You know, Air Marshals and all.”
She frowned, brows drawing down. “On what type?” She snorted as it hit her. “Oh, for the love of cop humor.” Charlie moved away from the board. “Speaking of pigs.” She gave him a pointed stare. “I’m going to head out for a bit to get something to eat.”
He pushed off the desk and stepped forward, his large body moving with a kind of lethal grace that said he was in full control. “Sounds like a plan. Me, too. Let’s go get some grub.”
She paused in the process of reaching for her radio. “D-do what?” He couldn’t be serious. Her stomach already swirled a rabble of butterflies with him around. There would be no way she would be able to eat.
He spread his arms and flashed a brilliant smile. “I am your guest, Detective Lopez. Surely, you’re not going to let me starve, are you?
She palmed her grown-up version of a walkie-talkie and reached for the keys. “You’re hungry, huh?”
He nodded.
Shit. Backing out now or refusing his company would only draw attention to the fact that he affected her. She couldn’t give him that power. “Maybe taking a break will give us a fresh palate for these photos later.”
He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, covering his shoulder harness.
She eyed him, her frown deepening. It was nearly a hundred degrees outside. “Tell me you brought something other than suits.”
A flash of white teeth. “Detective Lopez, are you asking me to wear less clothing?”
A quick flash of her imagination did exactly that. Bronze skin across rippling abs had her mouth watering. She masked the thought and scoffed, turned and headed for the exit. “In your dreams. I’d just hate to see you keel over and die from heat exhaustion.” She pushed open the front door, tugged down her sunglasses as the last of the sun spread its color’s across the sky in a brilliant kaleidoscope. “Then I’d have to solve this case all by myself.” She pretended to muse it over. “Actually, please wear not only the jacket tomorrow, but also a wool turtleneck… Oh, and a snowcap. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about you slowing me down on this investigation. And I could get full control of my case back.”
