Kyle (Hope City Book 4)

by Maryann Jordan

  Still wiggling, she felt the weight leave just in time to be flipped over. Still wiping at her cheeks, she continued to blink while looking into deep blue eyes that were focused on her face.

  For a few seconds, the underbelly world of Hope City disappeared as they stared at each other. “You?” she gasped, staring into Kyle’s face, barely aware that he had growled the same word in equal disbelief.

  Before she could suck in another breath, Kyle bounded to his feet, reached down to grab her arms, and hauled her upward. She landed on her feet with a jolt, jerked her arm from his grasp, and swiped at her face again.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Startled at the ferocity of his voice, she opened her mouth to explain, but he continued.

  “And pepper spray? You sprayed fuckin’ pepper spray into the wind? What the fuck were you thinking?”

  “I take it you know her?”

  Whipping her head around, she spied another man standing close, a badge clipped to his belt, his weapon being re-holstered. Swiping at her cheeks again, she turned back to Kyle. “I’m here for work—”

  “Work? You said you worked in marketing. Try again, sweetheart. I’m not buying that.”

  He snatched her bag from the ground. “Do you have any needles or other sharp objects in here?”

  “What?”

  “Needles? Sharp objects?” he growled.

  “No! I had fruit gummies.”

  He jerked open her bag and looked inside, his brow furrowed as he twisted his neck and speared her with a confused expression.

  Her vision was clearing as she took the bag from him and reached inside to grab a tissue. Wiping her eyes and nose, she leveled her gaze back on him. “I don’t have to tell you what I’m doing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was just heading to my car.” She barely took a step when his hand latched onto her upper arm, firmly but not painfully.

  “Oh, hell no, Kimberly. You’re coming with me.”

  “You’re arresting me?” she squeaked, her throat still raw.

  “I should, but no. I’m taking you home.”

  He held out his hand and wiggled his fingers. She stared down for a few seconds then lifted her gaze to his face. Impatience and anger were clearly written on his expression, but she had no idea what he wanted. “What?”

  “Keys.”

  “Keys?”

  He wiggled his fingers again. “As in give me your keys,” he said enunciating each word.

  Glaring, she said, “I don’t need to give you my keys. I’m leaving, and I’m driving.”

  “Only part of that is right,” he growled in return. “You are leaving, but I’m driving so give me your keys.”

  Glancing toward the other man who was now openly smirking, she said, “This is police brutality.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she was stunned that Kyle’s expression could become even scarier.

  He looked toward the other man and said, “I’m taking her home.” Tossing a set of keys to him, he added, “Take my truck back to the station, and I’ll call you in a little bit.”

  The other man caught the keys easily in his hand and grinned. “You sure you got this?”

  Kyle looked from the other man back to her. “Oh yeah, I’ve got this.”

  She continued to watch in stunned silence as the other man tossed a two-fingered salute and walked toward an old pickup truck. With Kyle’s hand still on her arm, he began walking. She wanted to pull back, but there was a small crowd growing at the edge of the Cardboard Cottages, and she didn’t want to be left there. Stumbling to keep up, they made it to her car. He whirled her around and pressed her back against the passenger door, sliding her bag off her shoulder. After he reached inside, the jingle of her keys could be heard, and he pulled them out. Opening the door, he ordered, “Get in.”

  Determined he would receive his verbal thrashing once they were in the car and away from the area, she climbed in and slammed the door. I can’t believe I slept with such a jerk! I can’t believe I’ve been thinking of him all week!

  11

  Kyle started her car, determined to stay focused even though his hands were shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his body. A slew of emotions had hit him, one right after the other. Suspicion morphed into surprise when she shot pepper spray on a breezy day in close range, making most of it hit her and some toward him. He was hit with a shock when the watery green eyes stared up at him, unable to believe it was Kimberly.

  Then anger overtook him at her recklessness. Jesus, they’d just had three dead bodies there this morning. If she’d stumbled onto them… Jesus.

  As pissed as he was, the next thing that slammed into him was lust when he pressed his body close to hers to get her keys. Glancing toward the side at the hard set of her jaw, he figured he’d keep that tidbit to himself. He pulled onto the main road and asked, “Where do you live?”

  She remained silent.

  “I’m going to keep driving around in circles using up all your gas, so you might as well tell me where you live.”

  “Colbert. Turn left up here.”

  Recognizing the street name, he was not surprised to observe blocks and blocks of rowhouses, similar to the area of town where he lived. After a few minutes, she pointed to hers, and he parallel parked in front. She leaped out of her car and slammed the door, stalking up her front steps. He climbed out of the driver’s side slowly, grinning as he waited for her to realize he still had her keys.

  At the top stoop, she whirled around, held out her hand, and wiggled her fingers, mimicking his earlier actions. Instead of dropping the keys onto her palm, he reached around and unlocked her door, pushing it open.

  She stepped inside and quirked her brow. “You could have just had your friend follow us here so he could take you directly away.”

  He placed his hand on her stomach, pushed her back gently, and stepped into her house. Sighing, he closed the door behind them. “I could have, but I’m not leaving right now. Not until I get some answers about why you were at a scene that just this morning had three dead bodies.”

  She sucked in a quick breath, her eyes widening before immediately narrowing again. “Were you this much of a jerk the night I met you?”

  “No, but I think we both had other things on our mind that night.”

  She growled and whirled quickly, her ponytail whipping about, barely missing his face. Stalking through her living room, she headed toward the back.

  Every rowhouse he’d been in, including his own, had the same basic layout. The front door opened straight into the living room. Stairs leading to the second floor were close by. Toward the back was the kitchen and many had no dining room. An alley or small patio was through the back door of the kitchen. His townhouse was larger, but whoever had refurbished hers had done an exceptional job. Exposed brick. Wood floors. Softly painted walls.

  Her keys were still in his hand, and he followed her into the kitchen, placing them onto the counter next to where she’d tossed her bag. Her refrigerator door was open, and she had bent to pull something out. His gaze landed on her perfect ass, and he shifted, needing to adjust his cock, glad her back was to him.

  She stood suddenly and turned around, hands on her hips. “Are you still here?”

  “Apparently.”

  “I want you to leave. There’s absolutely no reason for you to be here any longer. Even though I thought of you for the past week, I’m no longer interested in seeing you again.”

  “You thought of me?”

  “That’s all you focused on? I just told you that I want you to leave and am no longer interested in you.”

  “But in the middle of that, you said you thought of me for a week.”

  Throwing her hands up to the side, she blurted, “I’m hungry. I haven’t had lunch. My face is a mess, and my eyes still burn. I have dirt on my clothes. I want to take a shower and eat something. And while I’m doing all that, I want to process the fact that the women I talked to this morning can’t take a shower and
don’t have lunch to eat!”

  He stared at her face, and she was right. She looked a mess. And beautiful. And right now, ending her speech in the way she had, he watched as her chin quivered. Saying nothing, he stepped closer and opened his arms. Uncertain if she might throw a right hook toward his chin, he was grateful when her face crumpled, and she stepped into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to his chest as her hand snaked to his back and she clutched his shirt.

  He felt her body shudder, then heard soft sobs. He slowly rubbed her back, murmuring words of comfort near her ear.

  She cried for several minutes, but he wasn’t worried. Growing up with three sisters and the two King girls next door, he was well aware that sometimes it took a while for them to get it all out. It might be a sexist observation, but he found that usually men decided to punch something when they were upset. If he was honest, of the two reactions, he thought the women had the healthier one.

  Her breathing evened, and she leaned back. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face was splotchy, and there was a long streak of dirt on her right cheek. And, once again, he thought she was beautiful.

  He wanted to know everything. What she was doing at the Cardboard Cottages this morning. Who she talked to. Who she worked for. But right now, he just wanted to offer comfort. And, if he was honest, he loved the feel of her in his arms. “Pizza or Chinese?” Her brow furrowed and, strangely enough, he thought it made her look more adorable. “There’s a lot we need to talk about, babe, but first things first. You go take a shower, and I’ll call for lunch. You’ve got a couple of magnets on your refrigerator for takeout, so would you rather have pizza or Chinese?”

  He braced for her argument, but she simply continued to hold his gaze for a moment and then her shoulders slumped.

  “Chinese. I think everything in life seems a little bit better with Chinese food.”

  He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, mumbling, “Words to live by, darlin’.” When she didn’t move, he gave her a slight nudge. She held his gaze for a few seconds longer, then nodded. He watched as she walked toward the stairs and heard her footsteps as she ascended to the second floor. Waiting just long enough to hear the water running, he pulled out his phone and dialed the restaurant.

  With the sound of water still running from upstairs, his gaze snagged on the small backpack lying on the kitchen counter. Not hesitating, he opened it and peered inside. Pulling out her wallet, he checked her ID. Kimberly Hogan. Twenty-seven years old. The pockets that held credit cards were empty. Seeing several stacked on the kitchen counter, he was glad she had the foresight to not head to the Cottages with a full wallet of cards and money.

  Reaching into the bag again, he pulled out a notebook. Before he had a chance to open it, his gaze snagged on an ID lanyard. Flipping it over, he jolted at the sight of a Kilton Pharmaceuticals employee ID badge. Jesus, she works at Kilton! So what the fuck was she doing at the Cottages? He flipped open the notebook, seeing handwritten notes over several pages. Remembering when he followed her at the Cottages she was speaking into her phone, he wondered who she had been talking to. Punching a few buttons, he discovered her last call was last night. Staring at the app icon, he saw Dictation was front and center.

  Before he had a chance to pursue his search further, the water from the shower stopped running. Placing everything back into the bag, he made sure to arrange it on the counter the way it had been.

  The restaurant must have been close because the knock on the door came a few minutes later, just as she walked back down the stairs. He accepted the food and paid for the delivery. Turning around, he faced her fully, taking her in. Fresh from the shower, she looked more seventeen than twenty-seven, but the way his cock twitched at the sight he was fuckin’ thrilled she was an adult.

  Her honey-blonde hair was dark, still wet and hanging down her back. Dressed in comfortable yoga pants that cupped her hips and showcased her legs and a slouchy T-shirt that hung off one shoulder, exposing the strap of a black sports bra underneath. Her face had been scrubbed clean, and her green eyes were still slightly swollen from the pepper spray and having cried earlier.

  Her gaze settled on the bags in his hands, and she asked, “How much food did you order?”

  “Enough for us to have our fill and plenty for leftovers. Remember, everything in life seems a little better with Chinese food.”

  Her snort erupted before a full-blown smile transformed her from beautiful to gorgeous. Her fresh-faced appeal slammed into him, but it was the sound of her laughter that jolted straight to his heart. His breath was shallow as though afraid any noise from him would interrupt her moment of happiness.

  Deciding that all questions could wait, he walked forward with the bags in one hand, and with his other hand linked fingers with her, leading her into the kitchen. They worked in silence for a few minutes while she grabbed two plates from the cabinets and he pulled the containers from the bags. He had no idea what she might like, so he’d bought a variety. Sweet-and-sour chicken. Beef with snow peas. Egg rolls and crab rangoons. Sesame shrimp. Pork fried rice.

  She stood next to him and stared down at the amount of food. “They gave us four fortune cookies.”

  He grinned, continuing to set out the food. “That gives us extra chances for getting a good fortune.”

  “I should warn you that I tend to get the worst fortunes in the history of the world.”

  Time stood still as their gazes locked on to each other. “Then get used to your fortune changing.”

  Her eyes widened, and he bent to kiss her forehead. “Let’s eat, babe.”

  Sitting at her two-chair table after filling their plates, they began to eat. She used chopsticks, deftly maneuvering the food to her mouth with ease. Remembering she’d called herself a klutz, he smiled.

  “What?” She halted mid-bite, the chopsticks still holding on to the piece of shrimp as her head tilted to the side. “What are you smiling at?”

  “Sorry, but I was remembering you tripping on the cobblestones.” He inclined his head toward the chopsticks. “You’re perfectly coordinated with those.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “My coordination seems to be off when I try to walk in high heels. Or play sports. Or dance.” Shrugging, she added, “For some reason, chopsticks are easy for me. Perhaps, it’s because I’m anxious for the food to get from my plate to my mouth.”

  He chuckled, and they continued eating in companionable silence. At the end, he picked up the four fortunes cookies and held them out. “Your choice.”

  She narrowed her eyes as she gazed at them, seeming to ponder the selection with the utmost consideration. Finally, she lifted one from his palm and he chose one after her. Opening them at the same time, her brows snapped down once she had unwrapped the fortune.

  “Seriously?” she groused. Turning it around so he could read it, she quoted, “The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.”

  A bark of laughter erupted, and he flipped his around, not able to hide his smirk. “Success lies in the hands of those who want it.”

  “Oh, my God. You’re also a fortune guru.”

  “Come on, there are two more. Pick another.”

  Her pout was as sexy as the earlier sparks from her eyes and once again she stared carefully at the two remaining cookies. Choosing one with great deliberation, they unwrapped them together.

  “You go first,” she said.

  Nodding, he read his then shrugged and turned it around. “Pretty innocuous one, I’d say. ‘You’ll get good news.’”

  She nibbled on her lip as she read hers, then her eyebrows lifted, and a smile spread across her face. “When you live the life you love, then you’ll love life.” Looking up at him, she beamed. “I think that’s the best one I’ve ever gotten!”

  “Told you, your fortune is about to change.”

  She quickly sucked in her breath, holding his gaze as a slow smile spread across her face. After rinsing of
f their plates, he walked over to the table and linked fingers with her again. Silently leading her into the living room, he sat down on the sofa, tugging her gently to his side. “Why don’t we start with the basics? The things we didn’t get to the night we met.”

  “The basics?”

  “Yeah, like I’m Kyle McBride.”

  “McBride. Detective Kyle McBride.” She dropped her chin and shook her head slowly. “I never paid attention to your last name when you showed me your badge. You must be Caitlyn’s brother.”

  “You know my sister?”

  “We went to college together. Me, Caitlyn, and Bekki King.”

  That tidbit gave him pause but only for a few seconds. He remembered she’d been at the Celtic Cock with friends but had no idea that one of those friends was his sister.

  “I’m Kimberly Hogan.”

  He held her gaze, wanting to know more. “You already know I’m a detective, but you told me you worked in marketing. Who do you work for?”

  “Everything I told you is true,” she said. “My marketing job is with Kilton Pharmaceuticals. I spend my days working in an office where I design marketing materials. Everything from brochures and packets that go to doctors, patients, education, blah, blah, blah.”

  His head jerked back as he lifted a brow. “Blah?”

  “It’s not that my job is boring, because I really like the people in the office. And I have to concentrate on what I’m writing because, when dealing with drugs, errors could have horrible consequences.” Sighing, she shrugged again. “I think I like the brochures for education the best. They’re more interesting.”

  Unable to believe that she worked for the company he was investigating, he continued his questions. “Okay, what about your writing?”

  She shifted on the sofa and turned slightly to face him, one knee bent and her foot tucked under her other leg. “It’s an e-magazine called Hope City Happenings. They publish twice weekly and are growing in subscriptions. I’ve been freelancing for them for over a year and, so far, the editor’s been really nice and told me he’d like more from me. Everything at Kilton has been crazy lately, but I’m discovering a way to combine what I’m doing for them and what I’m doing for the magazine, as long as there’s no conflict of interest.”