Wicked Wild Fantasies

by Shiloh Walker

The signs of shock had faded and she was calm. Geez, how long had he known her? Going on twenty-five years now. And he didn’t think he had ever seen her upset. Alex seriously doubted she had the passion it took to get upset. So why was it surprising that she wasn’t upset now? Hysterical, even?

  Why, Alexander O’Malley, how nice to see you…

  He’d have felt better, he decided, if she had started to shake.

  Started to cry. But then again, she hadn’t done that since the day of her mother’s funeral. Yet one more thing he didn’t like to think about. She’d been ten, he thought. Or was it twelve? Mike had been eighteen. Her mother had been pregnant. Frail and pretty, Maria Ryan had been one of the sweetest ladies Alex had known and then one day, she’d just been gone and the baby she’d been carrying died, too.

  Alison had cried at the funeral.

  But her father had grabbed her arm, all but dragged her away from the coffin.

  Ryans don’t cry, Alison. Remember that.

  He’d fussed at her in front of everybody.

  When her father had been shot in the line of duty right before she would have started college, Alison had tucked her chin down and soldiered on. Because Ryans didn’t cry.

  Not even when they buried their parents.

  Alex didn’t know the last time he’d seen her cry, other than that time standing next to her mom’s casket.

  Ryans don’t cry, Alison.

  He would have killed me anyway…

  The silence of the restroom threatened to smother him and he swore, escaping the silence of the restroom for the cavernous echo of the mostly empty bullpen. Alison was sitting exactly where she’d been and when he started toward her, she slowly shifted her attention from the wall to his face.

  “I’ve got a call to Mike in, but he’s not answering at home. I’ll call him again—”

  “Mike’s in Tahiti,” she said softly, interrupting him.

  At the desk nearby, Amber laughed softly.

  Alex pressed his fingers against his eyes and muttered, “Tahiti. I forgot.”

  “Of course.” Alison nodded. She twisted her fingers around and around the strap of her purse and then abruptly stood up. “You must be terribly busy.”

  Alex’s gaze came to hers. “I’m never too busy for you, Ali-cat.”

  Ali-cat. Alison managed to smile, but found herself staring at the floor again a moment later. Busy wouldn’t even describe what was going on inside his head if he’d already forgotten that he’d stood up at his best friend’s wedding not even a week ago. She looked around the bullpen, searching for some clue as to what had him so distracted.

  His big, broad shoulders were taut, his face more heavily stubbled than normal.

  She figured he could be tense because he was agitated—and yes, aggravated—over what had happened earlier at the mall, but that had nothing to do with why he wasn’t sleeping. It didn’t have anything to do with why he kept pulling out his phone and checking it, either.

  A case, she decided.

  She recognized the signs.

  Her father had been a cop, her brother was a cop. And while he was mostly unaware of her, she’d been studying Alex most of her life. He, too, was a cop.

  When he glanced at his phone once more, she rose. Her head spun a little and she swayed. Didn’t eat lunch, she thought absently and she didn’t think much of it as she pushed her glasses up her nose with shaky fingers. Throwing away her mostly empty coffee cup, she pasted a plastic smile on her face. “I’m going to call a cab. I need to get back to the mall and get my car.”

  “Yeah,” Alex mumbled, his eyes glazing over as he skimmed something on his phone.

  She nodded and turned away. She swayed and braced a hand on the nearest desk to steady herself.

  Tears burned her eyes.

  Home. I want to go home—

  The words penetrated two seconds later and Alex looked up, hurling his phone to the desk. Just in time to see Alison stumble and steady herself on one of the desks.

  A cab? I don’t think so.

  After damn near getting her throat slit, she was going to call a fucking cab?

  ∞

  Mike would kill me. Shit, I’d kill me.

  He caught her, gently, watching as she flinched.

  Her eyes, big and dark, flew to his face.

  “No cab, Alison,” he said quietly.

  “I don’t mind.” She gave him a weak smile. “It’s late and—”

  “No cab, Alison,” he said in a steely voice. “I’ll take you. I’ve got a few things to finish up and then I can take you home.” He scowled. Home? Alone? “Is there a friend you could call? Go stay with?”

  She frowned at him quizzically. “Why would I do that?”

  Why… Alex squeezed his eyes closed and prayed for patience. That didn’t help.

  “Because you almost got your throat slit?” he snapped and then mentally kicked his ass when she paled.

  “Alison…” Sighing, he reached out and pulled her up close. She was so skinny, so frail. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she might be losing weight again. Mike had worried himself sick over her in school. After their dad had died, Mike had fought—and won—for guardianship, but it had been touch and go for a while when she slid into depression and the teachers started voicing concerns about anorexia. Alison Ryan wasn’t anorexic. She just often didn’t care enough about herself to eat. Plain and simple. He’d have to talk to Mike. After a moment, she relaxed and rested her cheek against his chest.

  His heart gave a weird little lurch as he realized she felt…well, not bad. Alison Ryan didn’t feel bad at all in his arms.

  Of course she doesn’t, he thought sourly. She’s like your kid sister.

  Uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t explain, he backed up. He gave her hair a quick tug. “You’re not taking a cab,” he said. “Let me just finish up my report and make a quick call or two about that son of a bitch who pulled that knife on you, okay?”

  She gave him a sober look and then nodded. “Okay.”

  Turning away, he blew out a slow, careful breath and resisted the urge to rub at the back of his neck.

  A few more minutes, then he’d get her out of here, back to her place…hell. Who could he call so she wasn’t alone? Mike wasn’t here. Lori wasn’t here. She didn’t really have many friends…

  “Yo, O’Malley!”

  He glanced up, squinting at the cop in front of him. “Hey, Woodford. Busy.” Alison was back to staring at the wall in mute fascination.

  “Not too busy for this.” Woodford held up a sheet of paper and grinned, his pearly whites gleaming. “Present for you…almost as good as whatever that blond with the big tits—”

  Downing had been walking by and she obligingly smacked him in the back of the head with her hand, shooting a look over toward Alison.

  Woodford caught sight of her. “Hell, what did the cat drag in?” he muttered, lowering his voice.

  “That’s Mike’s little sister. She was almost mugged,” Alex said coolly.

  “That is Mike’s sister?”

  Alison flinched.

  From the corner of Alex’s eye, he saw it. Mad now, and getting madder, he leaned over and pinned Woodford with a hard look. “Yeah. Mike’s sister. Would you like to introduce yourself now or after I tell you how she broke the perp’s nose?”

  Recognizing the anger on Alex’s face, Woodford beat a quick retreat and Alex went to toss the paper he’d given him into his box for tomorrow.

  But then he caught sight of the name on it.

  He blinked. Two seconds later, he grinned.

  Two seconds after that, he was on the phone, calling for a warrant.

  And he’d forgotten, entirely, about Alison.

  “Amber?”

  The two of them had been friends in high school.

  Not best friends, but friends nonetheless. Amber had been a band geek. Alison had never been able to pull her nose out of a book. Both of their dads had been cops. Needless to say, they’
d had a lot in common.

  College had changed Amber quite a bit.

  She’d grown some confidence—and breasts—and had decided to follow in her dad’s footsteps. Her dad was now retired and living down in Florida and Amber was happily working as a detective, having been promoted a couple of years behind Mike.

  College hadn’t done shit for Alison, but then again, maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough.

  She’d never know.

  “He’s forgotten about me,” she said softly.

  Amber gave her a look that was a mixture of embarrassment and aggravation. “He’s got a big case. I think he just got the information he’s been waiting on.” Blowing out a breath, she said, “If it helps, he’s going to be rousting out some dickhead misogynist who thinks his daddy’s money will get him out of any kind of trouble.”

  “Think he’ll win?”

  “That’s up to the lawyers.” Amber shrugged. Then she glanced over at Alison and added, “But he’s really good at what he does.”

  Alison nodded. “Considering the night I’ve had, I’m happy having dickheads off the streets.” She bit her lip and then shot her friend a look. “You…um…can you give me a ride to my car?”

  Don’t bother looking for Alison. I’m taking her home.

  For a split second, the message didn’t make any sense. Then it did and Alex practically fell on his ass jumping out of his seat.

  He couldn’t cuss about how stupid he was, either, because he had a judge on the phone and he was almost certain he’d have his warrant in the next couple of minutes.

  While the judge listened to him, he furiously punched in a response to Amber Downing’s text.

  What the fuck, Amber?

  “And you’re absolutely certain this can’t wait until morning, Detective?”

  “No, sir.” Alex closed his eyes and focused on the one problem. “As I’ve already explained, his past shows that he may well be a flight risk. He fled the country before—under another name—and he lied about that and used his father’s name and money to cover it up.”

  There was a gusty sigh, followed by silence. Knowing the judge, Alex took advantage of that to read Amber’s response.

  She was almost mugged, could have been killed and you just ignored her. You’re such an asshole sometimes, O’Malley.

  He ran his tongue across his teeth. He…well, he really didn’t have a response to that.

  And he couldn’t take the time to think of one, either, because the judge finally spoke. “Okay. I can see the concerns. You can have your warrant.”

  Chapter Three

  It was after one.

  Tired and pissed off and feeling both guilty and exhilarated, he let himself into Mike’s house. The alarm went off and he glared at the annoying thing, trying to jog his tired brain into remembering how to disarm the damn thing.

  A clacking noise came rushing up the hall.

  “Hey, Moose,” he said absently as he punched in a code.

  “Disarm system now,” the polite female voice said, letting him know the code wasn’t right.

  Shit.

  He tried another code.

  The dog stuck his nose in Alex’s crotch.

  “Disarm system now.”

  A light flashed on.

  Alex spun, immediately drawing his weapon.

  At the sight of Alison standing at the end of the hall, wearing nothing but a T-shirt, he froze.

  And judging by the look on her face, she looked about as startled as he felt.

  Then the alarm—tired of not being disarmed—deciding to shriek, an ear-piercing noise that made Moose, the big retriever mix, throw back his head and start howling like crazy. Alison jumped and then, with a faint shake of her head, she came rushing over.

  She didn’t even look at him as she disarmed the system. Once it was quiet, he asked, “What are you—”

  She held up a hand, striding over to the telephone.

  It rang before she even reached it and he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Great. Now the alarm company was calling.

  “Yes…yes…my name’s Alison Ryan. I’m Mike Ryan’s sister. I’m one of the approved people. My brother’s friend Alex came by and I guess he forgot his passcode for the system. My security word…oh, it’s Slayer.” She darted him a look, her cheeks pink. “Slayer? As in Buffy?”

  She laughed, the sound nervous. “Yeah, I know. I miss the show, too. Yes, everything is fine.”

  As she stood there, she lifted a hand and toyed with the neck of her T-shirt.

  And for some reason he really couldn’t decipher, he found himself staring at her hand.

  She had elegant hands, he realized. He hadn’t ever noticed that.

  “Yes, okay. Thank you.”

  The phone disconnected.

  “What are you doing here?”

  They both asked it at the same time.

  Alison couldn’t have said she was surprised that Alex had so easily forgotten about her at the station. Surprised, no. Hurt? Yes.

  But Alex had always had the ability to hurt her. Since she had spent the majority of her life half in love with him, it was as easy for him to hurt her as it was for him to make her day.

  And the idiot had no idea.

  No idea how easy it was for him to smile at her and make her entire week.

  No idea how easy it was for him to look right through her and send her mood crashing right down into the very pit of despair.

  And he ignored her…a lot. More and more these days.

  If she could do anything at all, it would be to stop loving him. He wasn’t anything more than a dream anyway, and she knew it. It wasn’t even that he was out of her league. They weren’t even playing the same sport.

  He was…well. Beautiful. Yeah. Beautiful and hot and sexy and smart. Six feet four inches of pure, bone-melting sex appeal with a sinful smile and melted chocolate eyes that could just about make a woman’s heart stop.

  She’d had a hundred, thousand dreams about him and almost all of them were dirty. The kind of dreams she’d never told to anybody, and nor would she even dare. Hell, at the rate she was going, those dreams were the most action she’d ever get, too, because who would ever be interested in mousy old Alison Ryan?

  Definitely not Alex O’Malley and if he had any idea…

  She could imagine the embarrassed, awkward silence that would happen if he had any idea that she wasn’t just in love with him.

  When she’d heard Moose barking, it had jolted her out of a dream that was part nightmare and part fantasy. The mugger had been there, yeah, but so had Alex. And after he’d levelled the mugger with one blow, he’d grabbed her, picked her up and put her up against the rough brick wall, dragging her hands high over her.

  Don’t ever scare me like that again, he’d ordered, his mouth hot and open against her neck.

  It didn’t matter that she hadn’t really planned on getting mugged. Dreams don’t make sense.

  She’d felt helpless, spellbound by his touch, his eyes, his voice.

  And then, he’d shoved her skirt up—no, she hadn’t been wearing a skirt, but who cares about details? It was a dream.

  And he’d been inside her and she’d loved it, the feel of his cock, the way he pinned her wrists to the wall, all of it.

  Then Moose barked and she heard the alarm and fear had flooded her and then she saw him and now she could barely breathe.

  Which pretty much summed up everything that happened to her when she saw Alexander O’Malley.

  She lost the ability to breathe and her cognitive function tried to shut down.

  Alex stared at her, hands braced on trim hips, his mouth compressed into a firm line.

  She could remember him running those lips down her neck…in her dream.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “Um…” She rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth. Then she turned on her heel. “I want a drink.”

  While she walked away from him, he closed his eyes and stared at the fl
oor.

  Then he shook his head and looked over at Moose. It was a fitting name. The dog was huge. And right then, he seemed to be staring at Alex with reproachful eyes. “Were you playing bodyguard?”

  Moose turned tail and padded down the hallway to the kitchen.

  He found Alison in there, a bottle of scotch in one hand. “You want a drink?” she asked, her voice soft, hesitant.

  She was always soft, hesitant, though. That seemed to be her default.

  He almost said no, and then muttered, “Fuck it.”

  She flinched.

  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. “Yes. Please.”

  She nodded and splashed whisky into two glasses. He went to settle against the island to drink his, but before he had a chance, she was padding out of the kitchen, into the living room.

  She was making him dizzy and he already damn tired.

  But he followed.

  “I’m sorry about…”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” she said, her voice stiff, almost wooden. “You’re a busy man, Alex. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Then she shrugged and lifted the glass tumbler to her lips, taking a slow sip. “I’m fine.”

  “So that’s why you’re sleeping at your brother’s house…the house where you grew up. The house with the big dog.”

  Her hand shook as she lowered the glass, shook almost violently as she went to put it down and he felt like an ass as she shoved upright and half stumbled her way over to the front window, staring out over the river. “Is there a problem with that?”

  “No.” He tossed back his drink, draining it in one pull. “Fuck, Alison, look, I’m sorry. That was mean. You…hell, who wouldn’t feel shaken up by what happened? I just…”

  A soft, muffled sound came from over by the window.

  Aw, hell…

  “Alison…” he said.

  “I’m fine.” She swiped at her tears. “Go on home, Alex.”

  She shot him a look. “I’ll take care of Moose in the morning and bring the mail in. I’m working a double tomorrow but not until later. You can take over in the evening.”

  He hesitated, feeling caught there by the sofa as she struggled to hold her tears in. She never did like to cry.

  “You don’t need to be alone.”