by Nora Roberts
This was a hunger, his desire for Ally. But there was nothing of the slow churning in it. This was sharp, constant and painful.
No other woman had ever caused him pain.
He carried the taste of her inside him. He couldn’t rid himself of it. That alone was infuriating. It gave her an advantage he’d never allowed another to have over him. The fact that she didn’t appear to know it didn’t negate the weakness.
Where you were weak, you were vulnerable.
He wanted the investigation over. He wanted her back in her own life, her own world, so he could regain his balance in his.
Then he remembered the way she’d erupted against him, the way her mouth had scorched over his and her hands had fisted in his hair. And he began to worry he’d never find his feet firmly planted again.
“Good thing we don’t have a cop around.”
Jonah’s fingers tightened on his glass, but his eyes were mild as he turned to Frannie. “What?”
She pulled a beer, poured a bump, then served it. “A guy could get arrested for looking at a woman that way. I think it’s called intent or something. What you intend is pretty clear, at least when she’s not looking.”
“Really?” And that, he realized, was another worry. “Then I’d better watch myself.”
“She’s doing plenty of watching,” Frannie murmured as he walked away.
“The man’s got trouble on the brain,” Will commented. He liked coming over to Frannie’s end of the bar so he could get a whiff of her hair or maybe work a smile out of her.
“He’s got woman on the brain. And he’s not altogether easy with this one.” She winked at him and squirted a glass of the soft drink Will drank by the gallon during working hours.
“Women never trouble the man.”
“This one does.”
“Well.” He sipped his drink, scanned the bar crowd. “She’s a looker.”
“That’s not it. Looks are surface stuff. This one’s got him down in the gut.”
“You think?” Will tugged on his little beard. He didn’t understand women and didn’t pretend to. To him they were simply amazing creatures of staggering power and wonderful shapes.
“I know.” She patted Will’s hand and had his heart throbbing in his throat.
“Two margaritas, frozen with salt, two house drafts and a club soda with lime.” Jan set down her tray and walked her fingers up Will’s arm in a teasing, tickling motion. “Hey, big guy.”
He blushed. He always did. “Hey, Jan. I better do a round in the club.”
He hurried off and had Frannie shaking her head at Jan. “You shouldn’t tease him like that.”
“I can’t help it. He’s so sweet.” She flipped her hair back. “Listen, there’s this party tonight. I’m going by after closing. Want to tag along?”
“After closing I’m going to be home, in my own little bed, dreaming of Brad Pitt.”
“Dreaming never gets you anywhere.”
“Don’t I know it,” Frannie muttered and sent the blender whirling.
* * *
Allison carried a full tray of empties and had two tables’ worth of drink orders in the pad tucked in her bar apron. Only thirty minutes into shift, she thought. It was going to be a long night. Longer, she realized when she spotted Jonah coming toward her.
“Allison, I’d like to speak with you.” About something, anything. Five minutes alone with you might do it. Pitiful. “Would you come up to my office on your break?”
“Problem?”
“No,” he lied. “No problem.”
“Fine, but you’d better tell Will. He guards your cave like a wolf.”
“Take your break now. Come up with me.”
“Can’t. Thirsty people waiting. But I’ll shake loose as soon as I can if it’s important.” She walked away quickly because she’d heard it, that underlying heat that told her what he wanted with her had nothing to do with duty.
She stopped at her station beside Pete and ordered herself to settle down. Since he was in the middle of entertaining three of the stool-sitters with a long, complicated joke, she took the time to rest her feet and study the people scattered at table and bar.
A twentysomething couple who looked like they were on the leading edge of an argument. Three suits with ties loosened arguing baseball. A flirtation, in its early stages, starting to cook between a lone woman and the better-looking of a pair of guys at the bar. Lots of eye contact and smiles.
Another couple at a table laughing together over some private joke, holding hands, she noted, flirting some even though the hands wore wedding rings. Well married, happy and financially secure if the designer handbag on the back of the woman’s chair and the matching shoes were any indication.
At the next table another couple sat having a quiet conversation that seemed to please them both. There was an intimacy there as well, Ally noted. Body language, gestures, the smiling looks over sips of wine.
She envied that … comfort, she supposed, of having someone who could sit across the table in a crowded place and focus on her, care about what she said, or what she didn’t have to say.
It was what her parents had—that innate rhythm and respect that added real dimension to love and attraction.
If it was lovely to watch, she wondered, how much more lovely must it be to experience?
Brooding over it, she listened to the laughter break out at Pete’s punch line. She placed her orders, listening absently to the chatter around her, scanning, always scanning the movements, the faces.
She watched the hand-holding couple signal Jan, and the woman pointing to an item on the bar menu when the waitress moved to the table to take the order. Bending down, Jan waved a hand in front of her mouth, rolled her eyes and made the woman laugh.
“The hotter the better,” the woman claimed. “We don’t have a club table until eight, so there’s plenty of time to cool down.”
When Jan had scribbled down the order and moved off, Ally found herself smiling at the way the man brought the woman’s hand to his mouth and nipped at her knuckles.
If it hadn’t been for that kernel of envy that kept her attention focused on them, she might have missed it. As it was, it took her several seconds to note the picture had changed.
The woman’s bag still hung over the back of her chair but at a different angle, and the outside zipper pocket wasn’t quite closed.
Ally came to attention, her first thought to focus on Jan. Then she saw it. The second woman sitting with her back to the first, still smiling at her companion. While under the table, smooth and unhurried, she slipped a set of keys into the purse she held on her lap.
Bingo.
“You gone to the moon, Ally?” Pete tapped a finger on her shoulder. “I don’t think anybody’s waiting for vodka tonics up there.”
“No, I’m right here.”
As the woman rose, tucked her purse under her arm, Ally lifted her tray.
Five-four, she thought. A hundred and twenty. Brown hair, brown eyes. Late thirties with an olive complexion and strong features. And just now heading toward the ladies’ room.
Rather than break cover, she hurried into the club, spotted Will and shoved the tray at him. “Sorry, table eight’s waiting for these. Tell Jonah I need to speak with him. I have to do something.”
“But hey.”
“I have to do something,” she repeated and walked briskly toward the restrooms.
Inside, she scanned the bottom of the stalls, located the right shoes. Making a wax mold of the keys, Ally concluded and turned to one of the sinks. She ran water while she watched the shoes. It would only take a few minutes, but she’d need privacy.
Satisfied, Ally walked out.
“Ally? I got tables filling up here. Where’s your tray?”
“Sorry.” She shot Beth an apologetic smile. “Little emergency. I’ll get on it.”
She moved quickly, catching the eye of one of her team members and pausing by the table. “White female, late th
irties. Brown and brown. She’ll be coming out of the ladies’ room in a minute. Navy jacket and slacks. She’s sitting in the bar area with a white male, early forties, gray and blue in a green sweater. Keep them in sight, but don’t move in. We handle it just like we outlined.”
She walked back to the bar to pick up another tray as a prop. The man in the green sweater was paying the tab. Cash. He looked relaxed, but Ally noted he checked his watch and glanced back toward the restrooms.
The woman came back in but, rather than taking her seat, stood between the tables and reached down for the short black cape she’d draped over the chair. For a matter of seconds, her body blocked the view, then she straightened, beamed at her companion and handed him the cape.
Smart hands, Ally thought. Very smart hands.
When Jonah turned the corner of the bar, she inclined her head and let her gaze slide over to the couple preparing to leave, then back to him.
Casually she crossed over and ran a hand affectionately up and down Jonah’s arm. “I’ve got two officers to tag them. We want them to get through the setup, all the way through. I want to give it some time before I alert the targets. When I do, I need your office.”
“All right.”
“We need to keep business as usual down here. If you’ll hang around, I can let you know when I want to move. You can tell Beth you need me for something so she can juggle tables. I don’t want any alarms going off.”
“Just let me know. I’ll take care of it.”
“Let me have the code for your elevator. In case I need to take them up without you.” She leaned in, her face tilted to his.
“Two, seven …” He leaned down, brushed his lips over hers. “Five, eight, five. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it. See if you can keep attention off me until I move the targets out of the bar.”
Her energy was up, but her mind was cool. She waited fifteen minutes. When the female target rose to use the restroom, Ally slipped in with her.
“Excuse me.” After a quick check of the stalls, Ally pulled her badge out of her pocket. “I’m Detective Fletcher, Denver P.D.”
The woman took a quick, instinctive step in retreat. “What’s this about?”
“I need your help with an investigation. I’d like to speak with you and your husband. If you’d come with me.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“No, ma’am. I’ll explain it all to you. There’s a private office upstairs. If we could move up there as quietly as possible? I’d appreciate your cooperation.”
“I’m not going anywhere without Don.”
“I’ll get your husband. If you’d walk back out, turn to the left and wait in the corridor.”
“I want to know what this is about.”
“I’ll explain it to both of you.” Ally took the woman’s arm to hurry her along. “Please. Just a few moments of your time.”
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Please wait here. I’ll get your husband.” Because she didn’t trust the woman to stay put long, Ally moved fast. She paused at the couple’s table, picked up empty glasses.
“Sir? Your wife’s back there. She asked if you could come back for a minute.”
“Sure. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.”
Ally crossed to the bar, set down the empties. Then ducked quickly back into the corridor.
“Detective Fletcher,” she said with a quick flash of her badge as the man joined her. “I need to speak with you and your wife in private.” She was already keying in the code.
“She won’t say what it’s about. Don, I don’t see why—”
“I appreciate your cooperation,” Ally said again and all but shoved them both into the elevator.
“I don’t appreciate being bullied by the police,” the woman said with an edge of nerves in her voice.
“Lynn, calm down. It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry to be abrupt.” Ally stepped into Jonah’s office, gestured to the chairs. “If you’d have a seat, I’ll fill you in.”
Lynn crossed her arms, hugged her elbows tight. “I don’t want to sit down.”
Have it your way, sister, Ally thought. “I’m investigating a series of burglaries in and around Denver during the last several weeks.”
The woman sniffed. “Do we look like burglars?”
“No, ma’am. You look like a nice, well-established, upper-class couple. Which has been, to date, the main target of this burglary ring. And less than twenty minutes ago, a woman we suspect is part of that ring lifted your keys out of your purse.”
“That’s impossible. My purse has been right with me all night.” As if to prove it, she started to unzip the pocket. Ally snagged her wrist.
“Please don’t touch your keys.”
“How can I touch them if they’re not there?” the woman argued.
“Lynn, shut up. Come on.” He squeezed his wife’s shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asked Ally.
“We believe molds are made of the keys. They’re replaced and the targeted victim remains unaware. Then their house is broken into and their belongings are stolen. We’d like to prevent that from happening to you. Now sit down.”
Authority snapped in her voice this time. Visibly shaken, the woman lowered herself into a chair.
“If I could have your names please.”
“Don and Lynn—Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.”
“Mr. Barnes, would you give me your address?”
He swallowed, sat on the arm of his wife’s chair and rattled it off while Ally noted it down. “Do you mean someone’s in our house right now? Robbing us right now?”
“I don’t believe they can move quite that quickly.” In her mind she was calculating the drive time. “Is there anyone at that address right now?”
“No. It’s just us. Man.” Barnes ran a hand through his hair. “Man, this is weird.”
“I’m going to call in your address and begin setting up a stakeout. Give me a second.”
She picked up the phone as the elevator doors opened, and Jonah walked it. “I’ve got it covered here,” she told him.
“I’m sure you do. Mr. and Mrs….?”
“Barnes,” the man answered. “Don and Lynn Barnes.”
“Don, can I offer you and your wife something to drink? I realize this is very inconvenient and upsetting for you.”
“I could use a shot. A good stiff bourbon, I think.”
“Can’t blame you. And Lynn?”
“I …” She lifted a hand, dropped it. “I just can’t … I don’t understand.”
“Maybe a little brandy.” Jonah turned away, opened a panel in the wall to reveal a small, well-stocked bar. “You can put yourselves in Detective Fletcher’s capable hands,” he continued and he chose bottles and glasses. “And meanwhile, we’ll try to keep you as comfortable as possible.”
“Thanks.” Lynn took the brandy from him. “Thank you so much.”
“Mr. Barnes.” A little miffed at how smoothly Jonah had settled ruffled feathers, she yanked the man’s attention back to her. “We have units on the way to your house right now. Can you describe your house for me? The layout, doors, windows?”
“Sure.” He laughed, a little shakily. “Hell, I’m an architect.”
He gave her a clear picture, which she relayed to the team before she began to set up the coordinates for the stakeout.
“You have dinner reservations here tonight?” Ally asked them.
“Yeah. Eight o’clock. We’re making a night of it,” he said with a sour smile.
Ally checked her watch. “They’ll think they have plenty of time.” She wanted them to go back down, to finish their time at the bar, go into dinner and present the appearance of normality. And one look at the woman’s face told her it was a long shot.
“Mrs. Barnes. Lynn.” Ally came back around the desk, sat on the edge of it. “We’re going to stop these people. They won’t take your things or damage your home. But I need you to help me ou
t here. I need you and your husband to go back down, to try to get through the evening as if nothing was wrong. If you could hold on for another hour, I think we could wrap this up.”
“I want to go home.”
“We’ll get you there. Give me an hour. It’s possible that a member of the organization is assigned to keep an eye on you. You’ve already been away from your table nearly twenty minutes. We’ll cover that, but we can’t cover another hour. We don’t want to scare these people off.”
“If they’re scared off, they won’t break into my house.”
“No, just into someone else’s the next time.”
“Give me a minute with her, okay?” Barnes got up, took his wife’s hands. “Come on, Lynn. Hell, it’s an adventure. We’ll eat out on the story for years. Come on, let’s go—let’s just go downstairs and get drunk.”
“Jonah, go with them. Ah, pass the word that those—what was it?—the wild wings you ordered didn’t sit too well after all. You’re fine now, but you were feeling a little sick. Blackhawk’s will cover your bar bill, right?”
“Naturally.” Jonah offered Lynn his hand to help her to her feet. “And the dinner tab. I’ll take you down. You just needed to stretch out for a few minutes, and I offered to take you and your husband up to my office until you felt better. Good enough?” he asked Ally as he pressed for the elevator.
“Perfect. I need to make a couple more calls, then I’ll be down. I’m going to have to cut out before end of shift. I’ve had a family emergency.”
“Good luck with it,” he told her and led the Barneses away.
Chapter 6
She got the key from Jonah and went straight to the employee lounge for her bag. She ran straight out, doing no more than waving a hand when Frannie called out to her from behind the bar.
She was trusting Jonah to answer any questions. No one could do it better, she thought as she raced the blocks to her car. A simple word, a shrug from him, and that would be that. No one pumped a man like Jonah Blackhawk.
She had to get to Federal Heights before everything went down.
At first she thought she was seeing things. But the night was clear and cool and her vision excellent. There was no mistaking the fact that all four of her tires were slashed.
She swore, kicked viciously at the mangled rubber. A hell of a time, she thought, one hell of a time for Dennis Overton to get nasty. Digging into her bag she pulled out her cell phone and called for a radio car.
Time wasted, was all she could think. Two minutes, five minutes ticking away while she paced the sidewalk and waited. She had her badge out and her teeth clenched when the patrol car pulled up.
“Got some trouble, Detective?”
“Yeah. Hit the sirens, head north on 25. I’ll tell you when to go silent.”
“You got it. What’s going down?”
She settled into the back behind the two uniforms, itching to have her hands on the wheel and her foot on the gas. “I’ll fill you in.” She took her weapon and harness out of her bag and felt more herself the minute she strapped it on.
“Call for a tow truck, will you? I don’t want to leave my car on the street
