by PJ Friel
“Sorry, babe. Hey, what the hell did you say to Mist? She came back from the restroom looking as pale as my Prada purse.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I waved her off. “I just caught a case at the marina. I need to go.”
The smile dropped from Dezi’s face. “What’s going on?”
“No idea. Patterson said that he’d fill me in when I got there.”
“Why would they let you into a crime scene?” Trygg asked.
“I run a private investigation business that specializes in missing persons and kidnappings and sometimes I help the police.”
“Help them what?”
“Notice things.”
Dezi dug in her purse and shoved a business card at Trygg.
“You carry my business cards?” I shook my head.
My bestie huffed. “Someone has to help you network.”
“Simmons Investigations,” Trygg read. “I thought your name was Ullman?”
“My father owned the business,” Dezi answered for me. “Bryn took over when he died.”
Trygg looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but thankfully he checked himself. “Mind if I keep this?”
“Knock yourself out.” Dezi’s smile held suppressed glee.
I ignored the little thrill that tickled my belly, knowing Trygg now had my cell phone number.
I sighed and unlocked my phone. “I guess I’ll call a cab.”
Trygg put his hand over my phone. “I can take you but you’ll have to ride on the back of a bike.”
“As in pedals?” I asked, cocking a brow.
“As in a hundred and fifty horses. Ducati Monster 1200 S.”
Well, now. “Are you okay to drive, though?” He’d had two shots and a beer. That would put a human over the legal limit.
“High metabolism. I’m good.”
I arched a brow.
“Trust me. I’m fine.”
Trust Trygg or ride with DG? “So, your bike. Gray or red?”
He looked surprised by my question then grinned. “The only red on it will be your dress.”
I grinned back. “Let’s go then.”
“One second.” Trygg turned and motioned to the bartender.
“Hi, DG.” Dezi waved towards the door. “I was just headed back to the box to find you. Bryn has to leave.”
DG joined us, frowning. “Why?”
Dezi hopped off the barstool and looped her hand around his arm. “I’ll explain on the way to the car. They’re in a bit of a rush.”
“Car?” DG glared at Trygg’s back. “What exactly is going on here?” He tensed, looking like he wanted to rip Dezi’s hand away.
This was why I didn’t date. I curled my fists and opened my mouth to tell DG that whatever was going on was none of his business.
Dezi threw me her patented shut up and let me handle this look. “Bryn was called into work. She analyzes crime scenes for the police. Trygg is giving her a lift to the marina in Green.”
I didn’t think it was possible for DG to look any tenser, but he did. Maybe the stilettos weren’t such a poor choice after all. More so in the weapons department than footwear.
“I can take you, Bryn,” DG said.
“Actually,” Dezi butted in again. “Bryn was counting on you to take me home instead. I’m one of those poor defenseless females and violent crime scenes make me terribly ill, unlike Ms. Karate here.”
“Krav Maga,” I muttered.
She ignored me and kept talking. “She’d be really worried and distracted while she worked, unless you escorted me safely home.”
I stared at my best friend’s smiling face and contemplated murder. Knowing she was alone with DG in a car would not make me worry less. And while I hadn’t practiced Radical Honesty since giving it a trial run during my sophomore year in college, that didn’t mean I was okay with telling elaborate lies, even to someone I wasn’t particularly fond of.
Trygg stood, arms crossed, saying absolutely nothing, his lips curled in that snarky half-grin that made me want to lick him.
Lick him?
DG stared at me, probably waiting for me to either support or deny Dezi’s statement and the implied favor that I would owe him if he played chauffeur for her. And all I really wanted to do was tell everyone to leave me alone so I could get to the crime scene and do my job.
The motorcycle made up my mind...that and Dezi holding up her fake lipstick case pepper spray behind DG’s back. My decision had nothing at all to do with Trygg’s sexy grin and my desire to tongue his face.
The heels must be cutting off the blood flow to my brain.
“It would really be a relief for me if you could personally assure the safety of my best friend,” I said, laying it on thick while not actually lying. “I understand more than most how dangerous it can be out there for the average citizen.”
DG puffed up a little bit. “Of course.”
I clenched my jaw and willed myself not to roll my eyes.
“If you could just message me so I’ll have your number, I’ll let you know once she’s safely home.” DG looked pointedly at his cell phone. His grin told me that he had every intention of collecting on this favor.
Good luck, pal.
“Dezi can—”
“Here’s one of her cards,” Dezi piped up.
“Thanks, Bestie.” I gave her the Death Stare.
She batted her lashes at me.
Dezi was going to pay for this. So hard. She owned this fiasco.
“My pleasure.” DG pinged my phone with a message. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Beside me, Trygg growled.
I elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “Let’s go.”
“Sure thing.”
Trygg placed his hand on my lower back, causing a full body shudder. Against my better judgment, I pressed a little closer. His body was so warm, comforting even.
We crossed the foyer separating the Theater of War from the Dance Stage and entered a stairwell to the private parking garage under the building. At the top of the steps, my foot twisted and I grabbed the railing. Trygg grabbed me and swung me up into his arms.
Gasping, I clutched his shoulders. “I’m fine. You can put me down.”
“How about I save your feet and you enjoy the ride.”
He jogged down a flight of steps while I squirmed in his grip.
“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered.
“And you’re heavier than I thought you’d be. Hold still or I’ll drop you.”
He loosened his grip and let me fall to his waist. I gasped and wrapped my arms around his neck. He grinned.
I snarled at him. “Jerk.”
“You’re beautiful when you bare your teeth at me.” He dragged me back up to chest level, kicked open the door, and walked out into the parking garage.
“Wow. I don’t know whether to be impressed with your strength or offended at your backhanded compliments.”
“I like the first option.” He winked at me and continued carrying me. “But then I’m a little old-fashioned.”
Across the garage, a gray Ducati sat beside a black Range Rover.
“You can put me down, now.”
“Yep, I could.”
He didn’t.
I sighed.
He chuckled and squeezed me tighter. I let my head fall against his shoulder.
God, he smelled good.
And besides that, my feet really did hurt.
The soft waves of his hair brushed his collar and tickled my arm with each long fluid stride. I had just enough self-control to keep my hands laced together rather than let them twist into his hair.
He didn’t jostle me, so light was he on his feet. His arms bulged around me, but didn’t quiver. For all the harder he breathed, he could have been standing still.
I never let men like him get close to me. Why was I being so calm about all this? Carrying me around, ignoring my wishes, laughing off my suggestions. Anyone else would have been nursing a broken nose and a set of aching balls, but not Trygg M
ackenzie.
And why wasn’t the parking garage freaking me out? All the dark corners and multitudinous attack points usually made me jumpy. All it took was one power outage and we’d be in utter darkness down here. Completely vulnerable.
Bad things came out in the dark.
I chased the thought away, surprised that I didn’t have to fight off a panic attack as well. Then I realized how tightly I was pressed against Trygg, soaking in the aura of safety he exuded.
Maybe it was his confidence that calmed me. Not bravado or swagger, just cool, calm conviction in everything he did. Most men wilted under my snark and attitude. Trygg challenged me, forced me to bring my A-game. It was reassuring and…sexy.
“Do you do this often?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, just kept walking until he finally stopped beside the bike. Releasing my legs, he let me slide down his chiseled body. My dress got trapped between us, pulling tight across my butt and locking my thighs between his spread legs.
“I never do this,” he whispered. Then he took my face in his hands and kissed me.
CHAPTER 11
TRYGG
I never kissed casual hookups on the mouth.
I ravished their bodies and sucked on every needy little spot they had, but I never put my mouth on theirs. In fact, I hadn’t kissed a woman since my wife, Caitlin. And she’d been dead for over three hundred years.
So, why was I kissing Bryn Ullman?
Hell, not just kissing her. I was devouring her mouth like she was my first meal in years. My tongue tangled with hers. The sweet taste of the lime from her Long Island mixed with something intrinsically Bryn.
Ambrosia. Was this what the apples of Idunn tasted like?
She was more potent than any liquor and I needed a deeper drink. Tilting her head, I took her mouth harder and she let me, pressed against me tighter, parted her lips more, invited me in.
Why hadn’t I done this sooner? I could have been tasting her for the past twenty minutes, could have been drowning in that spicy apple scent that clung to her skin and filled my senses. I wanted to nibble my way from her neck down to her toes and back again, but I couldn’t seem to drag my lips from her delicious mouth.
My entire body throbbed like an exposed nerve. I needed her wrapped around me, soothing my ache. What were we doing in a garage when she should be sprawled across my bed?
Shit.
Crime scene. She had a crime scene to get to and here I was kissing her.
To hell with it. Who cared? It wasn’t like the evidence was going anywhere. But there was another reason why I shouldn’t be kissing her, wasn’t there?
God, for what reason would I ever stop kissing her? Instead, I wanted to fuck her body like I was fucking her mouth.
Right. That was it.
I didn’t kiss the women I fucked. My neck finally got with my regularly scheduled program and I jerked my lips away.
She whimpered.
“Oh, hell.” I clamped my mouth shut so I didn’t say something really goddamn stupid, like asking her if she wanted me to kiss her again.
Her eyes blinked open and for the first time tonight, I didn’t see accusations or scrutiny. All I saw was the skies of Scotland. Home. My lungs ached before I remembered to breathe again.
Why the hell did she feel like home?
Do something, jackass, before she starts asking questions!
I began taking off my jacket.
She gasped and backed away. “Whoa...wait a minute.”
I ignored her and shrugged the jacket off my shoulders.
“Stop undressing!” She clenched her fists and looked around the garage. “What are you doing?”
“Not what you think. You’re safe with me. Remember?”
Wow. I actually said that again with a straight face.
She arched a brow at that statement, but didn’t argue the point. She did study me, though. Probably watching for some tell that would help her figure me out. I hoped she found whatever she was looking for so she could let me in on the joke, because I wasn’t laughing about this shit. I held my jacket out to her.
She took the offering, but gave me a wary look. “Why do I want this?”
She had every reason to be leery of me. I could still taste her and my olfactory system had finally come back online, but all I could smell was her. No gas, no oil, none of the scents that filled a parking garage, just apple and warm, wanting woman. It was taking every ounce of self-control I had not to pounce on her and bend her over the Range Rover.
Or my motorcycle. Oh, wow. She’d look hot sprawled across my Ducati.
Focus, asshole. She asked you a question.
“That dress isn’t going to keep you warm on the back of my bike, regardless of today’s heat index.”
“What about you?”
I shrugged. “I run hot.”
Her lips quirked and she raked a look down my body that made my cock jerk. When I took a step towards her, she put the motorcycle between us, eyes wide. Damn it. I hopped on the Ducati.
“Thank you.” She slipped into my jacket. “For everything.”
“Anytime.” I was startled to realize I actually meant it. I wanted to spend more time with this woman. “We’re going to the marina in Green, right?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry. No helmet unless I go up to my room and get it.”
“Normally, I don’t ride without one, but tonight I’ll deal.” Bryn shrugged.
“You have a motorcycle?”
“Mhmm.” She slid onto the back of the bike. “Just don’t wreck and it won’t be a problem.”
“Do you wear leather when you ride?” I was a goddamn glutton.
“Usually. Not a fan of hospitals, so I dress for the slide, not the ride.”
Odin’s balls. She was killing me. My dick was hard just from imagining her in tight leather. Seeing her might just send me into spontaneous orgasm.
I was willing to take the risk.
“We should go riding together sometime.”
“Um. Maybe.” She rested her hands on my waist, but her body barely touched me.
Couldn’t have that.
“You’re gonna want a better grip than that. I don’t ride. I race.”
Her arms wrapped around me and she squeezed hard, pressed her body against mine. Her cheek moved against my shoulder and I pictured her grin. I started the motor and revved it high.
“Perfect,” she whispered into my ear.
Her toned thighs peeked out from the flared skirt of her dress and I trailed my left hand down, ran my bare knuckles along the outside.
“Might want to make sure that your dress is tucked under you or you’re going to give people one hell of a show.”
That’s what I said out loud, but what I thought was that I’d hate to punch some guy for getting to see her panties before I did.
If she wore any.
Fuck me.
“Right. Thanks.” She dropped her hands and rose, adjusting her dress and my jacket to her liking.
Was it possible to mourn someone’s touch when it was only gone for a few moments? Apparently so, because I hated every damn second that her hands weren’t on my body.
“Good to go.”
Then she was back and it was a quick jaunt to Route 8 from the Theater of War. Mordechai always made sure his businesses had ready access to the highway for quick getaways. Once we were on the freeway, I opened up the Ducati and we flew. Bryn clung to me and I loved the sound of her laugh, but my speed also shortened the amount of time her thighs cradled my hips.
Talk about a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation.
Once we exited US-224, it was only three miles before we spotted the crime scene. Strobe lights from police vehicles painted the water and surrounding houses in red and blue. This was her stop. If I blew on past I might be able to extend the ride for another couple of minutes before she demanded I turn around.
I really considered it.
“If you could
just stop there by the police cars, that’d be great.” Her voice in my ear sent a shiver down my spine.
I downshifted, slowed the bike, inched along until the cop cars blocking my way forced me to stop. A deputy approached, hand resting on his weapon, attempting a badass swagger, but ending up looking like a strutting peacock. Bryn’s leg swung over the bike.
The deputy froze and gripped his holstered weapon. “Get back on the bike, ma’am.”
If he drew that weapon, I was going to take his fucking head off. I shut off the bike and calculated the distance.
“What is your problem, Myers? You know me. Bryn Ullman.”
“Back on the bike and clear the area,” Myers said, keeping his grip on the gun. “We don’t need you here gawking around.”
From the look on her face, I might have to Rock-Paper-Scissors her for the chance to beat Myers’s ass. Before either of us could throw down, a man walked over from the side of the Port Authority building.
“Stand down, Deputy Myers.”
The dick with a badge wilted and dropped his hand from his gun. “Yes, Sheriff.”
“Sorry to interrupt your night, Bryn.” The newcomer motioned at her dress then nodded toward me. “He with you?”
“It’s fine.” Bryn said then introduced us.
“You can come as far as the building, Mr. Mackenzie, but if you cross the tape, I’ll throw your ass in a cell.”
I held up my hands. “Not a problem, Sheriff Patterson.” I pushed the bike to the side of the road. “Drawing your gun on her would have been a mistake, Barney Fife,” I said to Myers as I walked past.
He grabbed my arm. “Are you threatening me?”
I stared down at him. “I’m advising you to make better life choices.”
“Myers,” Patterson called out. “Get back to your post.”
The deputy released my arm and I smirked, then jogged over to Bryn and the sheriff.
“What do we have, Sheriff?” Bryn asked as the three of us walked towards the taped-off scene.
“I have some information about the victim, but I’m waiting until after you’ve examined the scene to share it. The body is a teenage boy, though, and it’s bad. So, prepare yourself for that.”
Bryn swallowed audibly and I watched shields drop into place behind her eyes.
“Want your jacket back?” She asked me.
