Josie drew in an unsteady breath. He needed her co-operation. Surely that gave her some leverage. She lifted her chin.
‘How long have you been a detective?’
‘What is this, twenty questions?’
Nothing would be gained if she didn’t push him. He might be older, and the law, but she was a person too — with rights. ‘How long?’
‘Too long.’
The jaded response came quickly, and he closed his eyes for a beat, like he’d revealed too much. ‘Twelve years, okay? When you knew me, I was recently back from the States, between assignments. I filled in time working for Luke, until they called me up for this job.’
Before she could ask another question, he cocked his own head. ‘In you go.’
Satisfied she’d managed to stand firm against Nate Hunter’s dominance, Josie brushed by him and stepped into a stunning marble bathroom, double the size of a regular bathroom. Two shallow steps led to a Roman style Jacuzzi spa built into one corner, a fully enclosed two person shower alongside it. A collection of curved vases and urns made an eye-catching display at one end of a long, marble vanity. Gold fittings arched over twin white sinks.
And there were mirrors — lots of mirrors.
The room was such a departure from the rest of the house, it piqued her interest, said something about the leather clad detective standing next to her, though she wasn’t sure exactly what.
‘You hold parties in here?’
He rolled his eyes and gave her an exasperated look. ‘I haven’t been here for two years.’
Josie wanted to ask him who looked after the place, but she wanted the zip ties off more. Pressing her lips together, she watched him drag a piano style seat with curved legs from underneath the vanity unit. Large enough for two people to sit side by side, he put it in the centre of the room and pointed to it.
‘Sit down there. Face the door if you’re shy.’
Choices, Jos. You always have choices.
She stayed on her feet.
‘Please yourself.’ Looking fed up, he reached down and unlaced a boot, pulling it off and dropping it on the floor. The second one landed on top of the first, quickly followed by his socks. Next, he dragged the black tee-shirt over his head until he was standing in nothing but the leather pants. With a casual flick, he tossed the shirt on top of the pile.
‘Still watching?’
Bristling at his overconfidence, she perched on the edge of the stool, more to get out of his way than anything else. ‘You think I’d turn my back on a man with a gun in his pants?’
He smiled properly for the first time, white teeth splitting the dark tan of his face and softening the worry lines that hadn’t been there two years ago. ‘Smart thinking, princess.’
‘I’m a secretary. Nothing “princessy” about that.’
He stowed the pistol behind one of the urns and opened the shower door. ‘Last chance, princess.’
Heat warmed Josie’s face but she kept her eyes fixed on the broad expanse of his back as he leaned inside the cubicle and turned on the water. His skin was the colour of milk coffee, smooth, marked only by the movement of muscles visible beneath the surface. His hair fell in a thick black curtain around his shoulders.
‘I’ve seen my share of boys.’ She affected a bored tone, ignoring the inner voice reminding her Nate Hunter was a man. ‘So unless you have something unique — get on with it.’
He unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor, and she was glad he couldn’t see the telltale flush heating her cheeks, couldn’t see what a fraud she was. His legs were long, well-muscled and covered in a fine smattering of black hair, his nicely rounded butt neatly encased in a pair of black swimmers.
‘Lucky for you I’m wearing my budgie smugglers.’ He disappeared inside the cubicle, groaning as he stepped underneath the jet of steaming hot water.
The sound of raw appreciation did strange things to Josie’s insides, and she couldn’t drag her gaze away as he tipped back his head and turned his face into the spray.
‘Why are you wearing them?’ She needed to interact, needed to get the goddamn ties off.
‘I swim every morning.’
His shoulders were testament to that.
‘Well, you’re showing your age, detective. Gen Y call them dick stickers.’
‘Gen Y.’ A disgusted snort from inside the steamed up cubicle. ‘And that’s senior detective to you.’
A woody, oriental fragrance drifted towards Josie on a cloud of steam, and she closed her eyes and inhaled the intoxicating aroma of body wash. It was a small comfort, the sandalwood and vanilla an invisible balm for her shot nerves.
‘Did you mention my name when you spoke to the police?’ he asked suddenly.
Josie opened her eyes. His tall frame was a motionless silhouette behind the glass. ‘No. I wasn’t sure it was you.’
There was a long pause. ‘Didn’t want to believe I’d crossed over to the dark side, eh?’
Josie rolled her eyes, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. ‘Oh joy. A thirty-something Star Wars fan.’
Through the smoky glass his body appeared to relax as he turned off the taps and reached for a folded towel from the rack above his head. ‘I’ll thank you for keeping my confidence when we’re out of this mess.’
His conviction that they’d somehow come through this settled Josie’s nerves a fraction more, and this time she averted her gaze while he dried himself behind the thin veil of steamed glass. She wanted to ask specifics, but Nate Hunter had concealed his occupation from her until the last possible moment. He’d tell her more when he was good and ready.
‘We have a small window of time.’ He opened the shower door and strode out, long hair slicked back, white towel hanging from narrow hips. ‘The bikies will go to ground, making the police our greatest threat. They’ll trawl through the camera footage and track the vehicles coming from the vicinity of the wreck.’
Josie studied him from beneath the awning of her lashes. His chest was covered in a light smattering of curly black hair, his body naturally athletic, buff, in an unpumped kind of way. ‘Won’t they trace the number plates?’
He scooped his pants up off the floor, whiskey eyes sweeping over her. ‘The ute has false plates.’
She sighed. ‘Course it does.’
Heat radiated from his body as he opened a drawer and took out a pair of scissors.
‘If I undo the ties, will you cut my hair?’
Josie blinked, taken aback by the unexpected request. ‘Okay.’
‘Stay still.’ He came around behind her and fiddled with the ties. ‘We need to move quickly. The people I know around here think I’m in Canberra, working for the Government. I can’t be seen looking like this.’
He trusts you enough to put a pair of scissors in your hand?
Josie turned and spoke over her shoulder, amazed how the shower had improved his mood. ‘Do the Altar Boys know your real name?’
‘No. I’m Nate Jordan to them, or Bolt. I retain my first name in case I bump into someone I know.’
There was a snip and her wrists were free. She winced, bringing her hands to the front and rubbing at the raised welts. ‘At least I met the real Nate Hunter.’
Josie’s remark caught Nate completely off guard, and something akin to grief slugged him hard in the chest.
The real Nate Hunter?
He barely knew who that was anymore.
Like any other job, he’d started this one with a desire to protect the community, get the drugs off the street, and put the people who manufactured them behind bars.
So how had he gone from that — to this? He should have eased Josie’s anxiety a lot sooner, cut the ties before now. For Christ sake, he was in his own safe house, he was armed, and she was half his size. The chances of her getting away from him were slim.
But the violence culminating in Mulvaney’s shock death tonight was becoming the norm. And the soul destroying loneliness of being undercover was hardening
him.
He felt tarnished by association.
Desensitised.
Despite that, it was magic to be home, even with the operation going catastrophically wrong. He could breathe up here in the mountains, be himself. And it was nice to talk to someone other than his controller. Someone from his real life.
Even the annoying princess, who once upon a time, had imagined she’d fancied him.
Nate threw the pieces of plastic into the waste basket. ‘Your wrists are swollen. Hold them under the cold water.’
He straightened, knee cracking where he’d come off his bike on a road trip to the Hawkesbury River eight months ago. The Altar Boys had an interest in a pub up there and they’d gone to collect their share of the cash.
Memories of that day flashed through Nate’s mind as he turned on the tap. The instant loss of control as the tyre blew, the frantic scramble to get out of the path of the other bikes.
Josie’s gasp brought him back to the present. She was leaning over the vanity, face white, hands beneath the flow of water.
‘Stinging?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not that.’
Before he knew it, he’d raised his hands and pressed his fingers into her shoulders. ‘You’ll be feeling it here.’
He froze.
What the hell was he doing?
He waited for her to shake him off, or at least order him to take his goddamn hands off her. But she didn’t. She just turned off the tap and gripped the edge of the vanity unit.
Nate hesitated. It was a dumb thing to do, but he’d acted on instinct, and in a way, he should be cheering. He wasn’t desensitised to the point where he’d lost all empathy for a human being in pain.
And she’d think him a right prick if he stopped now.
Using circular movements on the superficial layer of muscle, he began kneading out the tight knots of soft tissue. Her skin was smooth beneath the silky fabric of her dress, the line of her collarbone delicate beneath his fingertips.
Something tightened in his stomach, and lower, and he knew if he were smart, he’d remove his hands right away. But he couldn’t break the human contact, and he wanted to do something nice to make up for the rough way he’d treated her tonight. He needed her co-operation, needed to build the trust between them if he had any hope of keeping them both alive.
And he was having little success doing it with words.
He watched her in the mirror, increasing the pressure in his fingers when her muscles began to free up. She inhaled deeply, and when her shoulders lowered, Nate relaxed a little too. One thing about Josie, he could trust her to pull him into line quick smart if he overstepped the mark.
‘How close are you to arresting this person?’ she asked, opening her eyes and sounding a lot older than her twenty years.
His eyes met hers in the mirror. ‘Close, but I won’t lie to you, this is a major setback.’
‘Who is he?’
‘If I knew, he’d be behind bars. We call him “O” for “the overseer”. He’s the organised crime boss we think bankrolled the bikies years ago. The capital he provided let them expand from a cottage industry, growing a bit of weed, into a highly sophisticated network of money launderers. Kennett’s the conduit. That’s why I didn’t arrest him. He’ll lead me to him.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You sacrificed Mulvaney?’
He stopped rubbing her shoulders, his gaze locked on hers. ‘The situation got out of control. The tat parlour was supposed to be empty. I tried talking Kennett out of it in the back room, but he made me choose. It was a test. I guessed then Mulvaney was in for a beating but I had no idea Kennett was going to kill him.’
He hesitated, searching for the words that would explain the choice he’d made. ‘If I’d defended Mulvaney, I would have blown my cover and probably got myself killed. Shutting down the computer — protected you. It was an easy decision.’
‘What about the rest of your squad?’
He let go of her shoulders. ‘There are no others, just me and my controller. Welcome to our party of three.’
She turned, troubled eyes studying his face. ‘So — my life’s in hiatus?’
Nate wanted to be gentle, he really did, but gentle didn’t work with what needed to be said. ‘You show your face to the Altar Boys, princess, and you won’t have a life. Kennett learns you’re alive, and you sign your own death warrant — along with mine.’
While he wouldn’t resort to emotional blackmail, he wouldn’t hold back either, because unlike him she had another option. Daddy could come to her rescue, use his considerable money and influence to ship her off to some exotic place on the other side of the globe where the Altar Boys would never find her.
But would she go? Leave the undercover cop twisting in the wind? She had no obligation to save his skin, if anything, she should hate him. He’d snatched her off the street and not given her a say in the matter. And he intended doing everything he could to keep her with him so she could testify when the time came. When he locked away Kennett and the overseer for good.
Nate held up the scissors, rolled the metaphorical dice for the second time that night. ‘Ready to do your worst?’
She moved around behind him and he sat down on the stool.
Again, their eyes met in the mirror.
She said nothing, just held out her hand, face pale.
He laid the scissors across her palm.
‘Try not to embed those in my jugular, will you?’
Chapter 4
1:00 a.m. Monday
Allegra Greenwood stood in the bedroom of the terrace house she shared with her husband Luke Neilson, and spoke to Henry Grace on the phone. ‘The police found Josie’s car in the national park, near the family home.’
She watched Luke dump their overnight bags on the bed, her voice breaking as he came towards her. ‘There’s no sign of her.’
Luke wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him, drawing comfort from his body warmth and quiet strength. It felt surreal to be discussing Josie’s disappearance with one of Grace and Poole’s senior partners in the early hours of Monday morning, and Allegra would have preferred it to be Simon Poole.
But he was on sabbatical in the United States, attending his father’s alma mater, Harvard.
‘Do they know who’s involved?’ Henry’s voice was low, so quiet Allegra could barely hear him.
‘Two men, but she couldn’t identify them.’
‘Do they have any idea why she was speaking to Mr Mulvaney?’
Allegra swallowed her irritation. It wasn’t in Henry’s DNA to break with formality, even at a time like this. ‘She thought he was trying to contact me.’
There was a pause, then, ‘What matters do you have with him at the moment?’
‘I don’t have anything, but he might have had some new instructions. His body hasn’t been formally identified but the police are sure it was him the firies dragged from the building. It fits — with what Josie witnessed.’
Allegra faltered, nausea churning her stomach. The thought of something happening to Josie because she worked for her…
‘And someone intercepted her?’ Henry was speaking louder now, repeating what she’d told him earlier, as if he’d overcome the initial shock and was trying to get everything straight in his head.
‘Yes. The tattoo parlour was in Ryde, about half an hour’s drive from her family home.’
Allegra dragged in an unsteady breath, her heart a dull ache in her chest. ‘I’ve only learned this much because of Luke’s connections to the police.’
Luke hadn’t pulled any punches either. With the bikies’ known ties to organised crime, Josie’s chances of survival were slim at best.
Allegra paused, waiting for some direction from Henry, but there was silence from the other end of the line.
‘Should I have Luke open an investigation?’ It wouldn’t have been necessary to press Simon this way, but Henry was the more reactionary of the senior partners, preferring to wai
t for things to happen rather than take the initiative.
‘It’s a terrible business, but I’m not sure there’s much we can do other than let the police do their job.’
Damn Henry! He was always concerned about things reflecting badly on the firm.
Allegra tightened her grip on the phone. ‘Should I ring Simon? He would want to know about this.’
‘Leave it to me, Allegra. I appreciate the call. We’ll confer again in the morning.’
‘Alright. Goodnight.’
Allegra killed the call and threw her mobile phone on the bed. ‘Bloody Henry! I’m tempted to tell him to grow some balls.’
‘Whoa!’ Luke grasped her shoulders and turned her round to face him. There was grave concern for Josie in his silver gray eyes, protective concern for her as well.
Allegra slipped her arms around his waist, breathing in his familiar masculine smell. Even after eighteen months of marriage she still couldn’t believe Luke was hers.
‘I know I’m catatrophising, but I can’t help it.’
‘You’re allowed, Counsellor.’ Strong arms held her in a fierce embrace. ‘Though I don’t think catatrophise is a word.’
‘Poor Josie. You know what she’s like, all hard shell on the outside and marshmallow inside.’
‘Reminds me of someone else I know.’
Allegra lowered her head onto his shoulder. ‘Despite the wealth, I’d never swap places with her. Nothing can make up for a close family. She loves them so much, and yet she’s closer to some of her former nannies than to Marilyn and Silvano. And, I know…’
Luke’s warm lips brushed her temple. ‘Hey, come on, try and settle down.’
‘She never speaks ill of them, Luke, but I know she hurts inside.’
‘Sshh.’ Luke stroked his thumb across her cheek. ‘Josie might be a poor little rich girl, but she’s got spunk in bucket loads. She’ll fight, don’t you worry.’
Allegra closed her eyes and let his voice calm her. No matter how bad things got, she had Luke by her side. And he’d never let her down. Two years ago, he’d tracked a stalker intent on harming her. The case had brought them together.
And now Josie was missing.
Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection Page 25
