ToServeAndProtect

by KyAnn Waters

“No, just his conquests.” Becca left, leaving the door open.

  “Tyson’s a player?” McKenna asked. “Because if he is, I need to know. He invited Dawn over for a romantic dinner tonight.”

  Dustin’s laugh was deep, rich, and warm like honey. “Mickey, if we could only be flies on the wall.” He lifted his suitcase and stood by the open door. “Candlelight to Tyson is the glow of the barbecue. She’ll be lucky to get an imported beer. Domestic beer and sex, that’s all Tyson requires for a romantic date.”

  The forty-mile drive to the airport was miserable. The mediocre air-conditioner fought to cool the truck. “We should’ve brought my car.” She adjusted the vents until the tepid air blew directly on her face. Her shirt clung to her back and beads of perspiration dampened the hair above her ears.

  “In a couple of hours you’ll have an ocean breeze cooling your skin.” He signaled and changed lanes to merge onto the interstate. Dried out vegetation became a blur out the window as they drove in silence.

  Dustin entered the long-term parking lot and found a space near the shuttle stop. He had one small bag and the hard black case with the combination lock. He dropped the tailgate. “Hold this.” He handed her his jacket. After unloading his gun, he carefully placed it in the molded foam compartment. He put the bullets in a plastic box that snapped closed. Finally, he took off the harness and put it into his bag.

  “Why does being here with you feel awkward when at home it doesn’t?” McKenna took her sunglasses from her purse.

  Dustin slammed the tailgate closed. “Because it’s hard to be good when you can’t get caught.” He grabbed the two heavy bags, and McKenna put her carryon over her shoulder.

  The shuttle took them to the main terminal where Dustin went through the tedious task of checking a firearm. Fingerprints, serial number, department affiliation, every detail had to be verified. The black box was labeled and sent down the conveyer belt along with their luggage.

  “We’ve got about an hour and a half before our flight. Want something to drink?”

  She nodded. “A soda.”

  They made their way through security and up the escalator to the terminals. They entered the first pub they came to. Dustin ordered a soda for her and a beer for himself, then escorted her to a round table in the corner.

  “Did you call Janie and let her know you’d be out of town?” McKenna hung her purse on the back of the chair before sitting down.

  Dustin took out his wallet and paid for the drinks. “I’ll call her when we get back.” He looked at his watch. “Are you hungry?”

  McKenna crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  “Look, my relationship with my daughter is not open for debate. Janie’s fine. If Trish needs something, she calls. And for the record, she calls enough.” He drank his beer and watched news on the television anchored on the wall above the pub counter.

  “I’m not talking about your ex-wife calling for money. I had all the money I needed growing up. What I didn’t have was a dad.” She dropped her hands into her lap. “Call her, Dustin, ask her if there’s something she’d like from California. She should be the first thing you think of when you wake and your last thought before you go to bed.”

  He took his cell phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “You already have that spot.” He dialed the number. “But I do think of her.” He waited for an answer, and then said, “Trish, I’d like to talk to Janie.”

  * * * * *

  Joe Marino watched his brother work his hand with a black rubber ball. Fingers, thick like his neck, squeezed until his knuckles popped.

  “I’m sorry sir. But I’m not finding anything that would lead us to the location of your money.” A small man sat behind the computer screen with beads of perspiration forming on his upper lip while his fingers tapped across the keyboard.

  “The detective must’ve erased the hard drive,” Joe said.

  Robert shook his head. “Let me do the thinking, Joe.” He squeezed the ball as he paced across the room.

  “Sir,” the computer man interrupted. “The detective found e-mails from Ms. Meadows.”

  Joe laughed. “That’ll be a dead end.”

  Robert’s sharp eye cut the laugh from Joe’s lips. “A dead end like the good doctor.” He seethed. “And let’s not forget the incredible job you did last night. I’ve got a computer, Joe. What I want is the goddamn money!” Robert forcefully hurled the ball, ricocheting it several times across the room. “Let’s go home and finish this.”

  “She won’t get away again.”

  “We’ll both see to it,” Robert definitively stated.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tyson lived in a three-bedroom condo at the mouth of Olden Canyon. Vaulted ceilings, oak cabinets, and tasteful white leather furniture graced a large open kitchen, living, and dining room area. Green ferns and philodendrons hung before sliding glass doors leading out to a concrete patio slab.

  Dawn slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot across thick, beige carpeting. “You surprise me,” she said as Tyson handed her a frosted glass of beer. “I like it.”

  She could see he liked what he saw in her. Wearing a light cotton dress that skimmed past her hips and fell to her calves, Dawn attempted to appear soft and supple…moldable. Instead of the hard-assed bitch she’d been to Tyson since they first met. She’d styled her hair without mousse or hairspray because she wanted Tyson to be able to run his fingers through it. Just a hint of color on her lips, and eyes widened with a delicate stroke of mascara. She knew she had sparked Tyson’s interest.

  Dawn followed Tyson out onto the patio where he lifted the lid to the barbecue. “How do you like your steak?”

  “Like I’m sure you like your women, pink in the middle.”

  Tyson turned the corn still in its husk. “Would you grab my beer?” He pointed to the kitchen counter with the tongs. “And put something on the stereo.”

  “Sure.” She sauntered into the house and went to the stereo.

  Dawn flipped through his CD collection and picked out George Strait. Returning, she said, “Here,” and handed him the beer. “Eclectic taste in music.”

  Tyson’s backyard was a square patch of green smaller than the patio. Dawn raked the blades of grass with her toes. “So, Detective, is your taste in women just as diverse as your music?”

  “Married three times,” he said, putting the steaks on a plate. “But don’t let that scare you. It might’ve taken three times, but I’m now familiar with the road to hell. I won’t be traveling it again.” Dawn laughed and Tyson smiled at her. “Are you ready to eat?”

  “I’m ravenous.” And for more than just the meal.

  “Good because I’ve been waiting to feed you all afternoon.”

  They entered the condo and she sat in the chair he held for her.

  “So three divorces. What about kids?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Makes divorce messy.”

  Dawn picked up her beer. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “I get the impression you drink to anything.”

  “There’re a few rules this evening. First, you promise not to pick a fight.” She smothered her steak in A1 Steak Sauce. “And I won’t tease.” She took a drink of beer. “Drink,” she demanded.

  He shook his head. “You won’t taste the steak.”

  “Next,” she said ignoring him. “You have to tell me why you invited me over and what you like best about me.” She put a big bite of steak in her mouth and chewed. “Mmm. Good. So do you want to know what I like about you?” she asked, pointing at him with her steak knife.

  “No,” he said to her question. “But because you’re going to tell me what it is about me that you like whether I want to hear it or not, go ahead. And by the way, that is what I like best about you.”

  Dawn set her glass of beer on the table. “Look Tyson, we both know I’m not going home tonight.” She picked a wedge of tomato from her salad and bit into it. “I didn’t want you to think I’m a slut,
so I left a change of clothes in the car rather than be presumptuous and bring in my overnight bag.”

  Tyson went to the sliding doors and pulled the vertical blinds closed. “Since our being in bed together is inescapable…”

  He stalked toward her, and Dawn swallowed hard. “Yes?”

  Her heart pounded. Standing next to him, she realized just how intimidating his physique could be. Tyson was enormous. Broad shoulders, tapered torso, heavy thighs, he exemplified masculinity. The fine scent of expensive cologne filled her nose. She glanced up and his full lips tilted into a smile. She had imagined his mouth doing deliciously naughty things to all the places that tingled when he turned those golden brown eyes on her. He reached for her hand and her tummy fluttered.

  “Dustin and Mickey have feelings for each other,” she said. “Have you wondered if I’m just trying to distract you from the case?” She stood, and Tyson bracketed her hips with his hands. She couldn’t stifle the moan escaping from her lips when he pressed his strained erection into her pussy. “Oh shit, you feel good.”

  Wet kisses trailed along her jaw. His tongue skated over the quivering flesh of her neck. “You are a distraction.” He inched her dress up her thighs. “And the princess is a distraction to Dustin.”

  Cool breeze from the air-conditioner chilled her heated flesh. However, the heat between her legs dampened her panties. Tyson had her dress bunched around her waist, and he cupped her buttocks and lifted her onto the table.

  “But this is not the same.” He positioned between her spread thighs. “We don’t have feelings for each other.” He reached between her legs and ran a finger along the plump seam of her sex, the thin silk of her panties the only barrier to her damp folds. “Unless we’re driving each other crazy.” He slid his hand inside. “Fuck, you’re wet.” His long, thick finger separated her slit, grazed her clit, then pushed deep into her channel.

  Dawn wrapped her legs around his hips and bit down hard on Tyson’s ear. Looking at him made her sweat—the heat in his eyes and the strength in his body. But damn, he was amazing and he oozed sex appeal. “Wear a raincoat.”

  * * * * *

  The plane taxied to the end of the runway while the captain welcomed everyone to sunny California where the current temperature was a balmy eighty-four.

  After they retrieved their luggage from the carousel, Dustin went to the ticket counter to claim his firearm. They took a shuttle to rent a car and waited with hundreds of people for their vehicle.

  “That’s us,” Dustin said as a red convertible pulled into slot six. An agent opened the trunk and handed the keys to Dustin. “Thanks.” He slipped a five-dollar bill into the man’s hand and tossed McKenna’s carry-on into the trunk. He then opened the door for her.

  “Do you know your way around Los Angeles?” McKenna strapped on her seatbelt.

  Aviator glasses hid his eyes, but he curved his lips into a charming and slightly crooked smile. “Like the back of my hand.” He pulled out of the parking lot and onto Century Boulevard and headed to the interstate.

  McKenna reclined her seat and draped her arm along the edge of the open window. The wind whipped her hair and cooled her skin. “Our first stop is the store. We need sunscreen.”

  “I hope you brought something for the beach.” He put his hand on her thigh. “Because this trip is only half about finding Roslyn Meadows. The rest of the time we figure out what’s going on between us.”

  McKenna covered his hand with hers and inched it higher. “I think we both know what’s going on between us. We better figure out what to do about it.” Not that she thought he’d protest, but she already knew what she was going to do about it.

  Dustin took the 405 to the South Bay and headed along Pacific Coast Highway until they reached Redondo Beach Boulevard.

  “Roslyn Meadows lives in Torrance.” He pulled into the hotel overlooking the Pacific Ocean. “About ten minutes from here without traffic. We’ll settle in and get an early start first thing in the morning.”

  “Today’s about over anyway.”

  He came around the car and opened the door for her. “Are you tired?”

  “Not really,” she said, taking his hand.

  They entered the lobby. “Reservation for Pearce,” he said to the man wearing a starched white shirt and black trousers behind the desk.

  “Your room is on the second floor. Non-smoking with an ocean view.” He handed two keycards to Dustin. “Will you need help with your luggage?”

  He looked at McKenna. “No, I’ve got it.” Together they crossed the lobby and took the elevator to the second floor.

  The corridors were quiet. Paintings hung on the gold and ivy leaf papered walls. They passed ice and vending machines on the way to their room.

  Dustin inserted the keycard and opened the door. McKenna entered first. Two beds. She stifled the disappointment, dropped her purse on the first bed, and stepped out onto the balcony.

  Children frolicked in the frosty white surf of the ocean, lapping at the spongy sand. Seagulls squawked and dived in frenzy as a man tossed pieces of popcorn into the air. McKenna tasted the salty breeze coming off the sea.

  “This is wonderful,” she said, excited. “Dustin,” she called over her shoulder. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “I want to pretend,” she whispered and leaned her head back against his chest. “Forget about Roslyn Meadows, not talk about the murder, or the Marino brothers and the missing money, just for tonight.” She wrapped her hands around his forearm as it lay across her collarbone.

  “Lovers meeting for a secret rendezvous?”

  She turned around in his arms. “Is that what you want? To be lovers?”

  Dustin pushed her hair behind her ear as the wind whipped it around her face. His touch sent tingles over her flesh. How easy it would be for them to go back into the room, for Dustin to lay her on the bed, strip her clothes from her body, and finally satiate the pulsing sensation rioting through her. When he looked into her eyes she no longer felt like the apprehensive daughter accused of murdering her father but a strong woman with steely determination…she wanted him. But for some reason he hesitated.

  “I think about it all the time, Mickey. But I’m not interested in an affair.”

  Neither was she. Falling in love was like discovering the different facets of a perfectly cut diamond. The more time she spent with him, the more she wondered if he’d say good-bye when this whole mess was finally over.

  “And right now, I’m on a case.” He touched her cheek. “I’m determined to get to the truth.” Dustin stepped away from her and went back into the room. “There’s too much at risk for me to let down my guard.” He slipped the room card into his back pocket. “I’ll move the car around and get our bags.”

  Dustin left, and McKenna sat on one of the double beds. She was more than a little disappointed when she first saw that Dustin had gotten a room for double occupancy, but nothing felt as horrible as his rejection. She’d all but asked him outright to become her lover, and he’d turned her away. Tears threatened to fill her eyes. She swallowed hard fighting them back. His determination was strong. However, she wasn’t one to scoff at a challenge. The desire was there. They only had to act upon it.

  She picked up her cell and called Dawn.

  “Hey, how’s sunny California?”

  “Fine. Dawn, nothing’s working.” She spoke in whispered tones even though Dustin wasn’t in the room. There was a part of her that didn’t want to share her feelings for the detective with Dawn, but nothing she’d done had changed the nature of their relationship. Now that she’d decided to live again, she wanted sex…with Dustin. “It’s time to bring out the heavy artillery, enough to crack his armor-plated determination. I need help. Am I being stupid? Maybe I’m reading this all wrong?”

  “Now you’re talking stupid. Tyson said Dustin hasn’t had a date since his wife left him. I’m talking nothing, Mickey. He’s probably rusty at the art of seduction.”

&nbs
p; “I’m not playing hard to get.”

  “Wear a thong and T-shirt to bed.”

  “The room has two beds. We’re not sleeping together. He’s not a man who’s going to like an aggressive woman. Otherwise he’d be after you. Besides I’m not like that.” McKenna crossed her legs and rested her elbow on her knee, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and finger. “I didn’t realize it would be this difficult to have sex.”

  “It isn’t. Ask Tyson. Hey, that’s a good idea. Hold on and I’ll ask him.”

  “Don’t you dare.” It was too late Dawn’s muffled voice could be heard asking for advice. “I’m so humiliated.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Tyson’s very open-minded.” She giggled at something Tyson said.

  “What did he say?” She shifted the phone to her other ear. “And where are you?”

  “Tyson’s house. Mickey, he’s under the impression you’re the one stalling. According to Tyson, Dustin’s gone rogue. This whole trip is on him. The department’s not covering the expenses. Captain Baird thought the L.A.P.D. should be handling the Roslyn Meadows side of the investigation. Dustin persuaded him to allow you to visit with the woman, considering the connection to Elliot. He’s invested, Mickey, I don’t know why he’s not following through. Maybe the equipment’s broken.”

  McKenna remembered the intimate embraces where she could feel his erection pressed against her. “No problem there.” The door handle clicked. “He’s back. I’ll call you later.”

  Why hadn’t Dustin told her he had to pay for everything?

  The moment he stepped into the room, she asked him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were footing the bill? Tyson told Dawn, who told me.”

  “Money is a non-issue. We’re not discussing it.”

  “I think I should be the one to decide that.”

  “The financial aspects of this trip are not the priority. Don’t worry about it. I’m not.”

  “Unacceptable.” She blocked his path, stood in front of him, and put her hands on her hips.

  Dustin’s gaze traveled across her bare shoulders and down her narrow rib cage. The thin ribbon of control over his response to her started to unravel. Not now, he told himself as he thought of touching her. Not until the case was solved and she was safe. He needed his wits about him. They had to find Roslyn, the missing Marino money, and Elliot’s killer.