Witness Seduction

by Elle Kennedy

  “And if she’s not involved,” Caleb added, “she could be in danger. You know what happened to Grier’s previous girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, she found out he was a criminal and tried to help the cops.”

  “Her dead body wound up in a Dumpster in Nevada, for Chrissake.”

  AJ sighed. “And I’m sorry that happened to her, but at least she was trying to take down Grier. Kincaid, on the other hand… I don’t know, man, the hundred grand in that bank account makes me mighty reluctant to trust her.”

  “Well, you don’t have to trust her. You just need to watch her.” Unwittingly, Caleb snuck another peek at the monitor, where Marley had finished bandaging her cut. She was now in the second-floor bedroom, fixing her ponytail.

  He wished he could find out exactly what was going on in her head. He needed to know more than what these brief glimpses provided. First and foremost, had she truly been oblivious to her fiancé’s criminal activities?

  Yet there were other questions he’d also love to get the answers to. Like what had she seen in Grier in the first place? Why was she doing all these renovations on her house by herself? What did she look like naked?

  Caleb stifled a groan. It always seemed to come back to that, didn’t it? Marley Kincaid’s incredibly appealing body. It was the tease of watching, but not really seeing. Catching glimpses of her breasts in silhouette, but never knowing exactly what color her nipples were, never knowing how those firm mounds would feel in his palms or rubbing against his chest, pressed up to his mouth….

  Jeez, AJ was right. This attraction really was getting out of hand.

  “Grier will show up soon,” Caleb declared. “Whether Marley is helping him doesn’t matter. My gut tells me he’s going to come for her.”

  AJ didn’t look convinced. “You know I usually have the utmost respect for an agent’s gut, but how are you so sure? I’ve read his file, Caleb, and he doesn’t form attachments. He uses people, then walks away.”

  “She’s different.” Caleb’s voice grew quiet. “He never moved in with anyone before, never proposed marriage, never opened a damned joint savings account. I’m telling you, AJ, he’ll come for her.”

  “He’d better,” AJ said with a trace of bitterness. “That bastard needs to pay for what he did to Russ.”

  The sound of Russ’s name brought a deep ache to Caleb’s chest. He hadn’t had many friends growing up—being carted from foster home to foster home put a cramp in a guy’s social life—but Russell Delacroix had been the exception. Caleb had met Russ at a group home when he was sixteen, and the two of them developed a friendship that had thrived for years. Russ had been the one who convinced him to join the DEA, and they’d been partners for eight years.

  As long as he lived, Caleb knew he’d never forget the sight of Russ’s body crumpling to the cold ground of that warehouse three months ago. Even now, the memory of Russ’s blood staining the dirty floor sent a wave of rage through Caleb’s gut.

  Russ had been family, a brother. And losing him to a drug dealer had been a crushing blow.

  Caleb tried to swallow the ball of fury lodged in his throat. “He’ll pay,” he said hoarsely. “He will show up here, I know it, and when he does, we’ll be waiting.”

  AJ leaned back in the chair, giving a satisfied nod. “Nice to hear you have your priorities straight.”

  Caleb bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you’ve been lusting after your cute nurse for a week now, and I’m glad you’re still able to remember why we’re here.” AJ’s voice took on an admiring note. Glancing at the screen, he let out a soft whistle. “Though I’ve gotta admit, she’s fun to watch.”

  Caleb followed AJ’s gaze, then stifled a groan. Marley had just come out of the walk-in closet in her bedroom, wearing black Spandex pants that hugged her shapely legs, while a tight yellow tank top stretched across her full, perky breasts.

  Caleb’s fingers curled into fists. A jolt of desire shot straight to his cock and turned it to granite. He knew Marley’s routine to a T now, and when she put on the Spandex…that meant only one thing was about to happen.

  Sexy yoga time.

  He tore his eyes off the screen. “Have you made any progress figuring out where the money came from?”

  AJ shook his head. “Still can’t trace it.”

  Releasing a heavy breath, Caleb got to his feet and approached the desk. “Then we keep waiting.”

  “So, what, we sit around for another week, waiting for something to happen? How long is Stevens going to let this stakeout go on?”

  “I don’t know. But as long as we’re here, all we can do is wait.”

  “For what?” AJ sounded frustrated. “There’s been no activity in the account since the wire transfer, no appearances by Grier, no phone calls, nada. What do you suggest we do?”

  “We keep watching,” Caleb said, shrugging.

  You mean torturing yourself.

  He allowed himself another peek at the screen, swallowing when he noticed the sensual workout had begun. She always started out with sexy stretches that showcased her legs and emphasized her sleek calf muscles, followed by a series of little pelvic tilts that never failed to hold his undivided attention. Oh, and look at that, now she had her hands and feet on the mat, ass thrust up into the air.

  Caleb smothered a groan. How much more of this could he take? He was only a man, after all. A thirty-one-year-old single man who’d always had a healthy appetite when it came to sex.

  And the woman on the screen, with her lithe body and floor gymnastics, just screamed sex. The proximity of their houses, separated by mere yards, only made the situation worse. It was only ten steps from his porch to hers. Ten steps, and he could be at her door…in her bed…

  “Maybe making contact wasn’t such a bad idea,” AJ said suddenly.

  Caleb’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about? You just chewed me out for that.”

  “Yeah, but I’m looking at it from another angle. You already laid some of the groundwork today,” AJ said, a thoughtful look entering his harsh features. “You saved her life, chatted her up. Sure, she thinks you’re a total weirdo, but—”

  “What do you mean, she thinks I’m a weirdo?”

  His partner shrugged. “You were like a panicked little rabbit out there. Seriously, you kept inching away, like you were going to bolt any second. I saw the look on her face, man. She’s suspicious of you. And she thinks you’re weird.” AJ offered a big grin. “Fortunately, you’re going to fix that by going over there tomorrow.”

  Caleb faltered. He didn’t reply for a moment, running the idea through his mind. “No,” he finally said.

  “Why not? All you’ve gotta do is befriend her, get her to open up and figure out what she knows about Grier.”

  AJ made it sound like the easiest task on the planet, which, for AJ, it probably was. Despite his scary biker looks, AJ was never hurting for female company. Not Caleb, though. His problem wasn’t finding female company; it was making sure nobody ever got too close. He liked his women the way he liked his cars—fast, bold and temporary. No strings, no hassles and definitely no relationships. He’d learned the hard way the price you paid when you formed attachments to people.

  And he didn’t want to get close to Marley Kincaid. His attraction to her had already proven too big a hassle—why make it worse?

  “I won’t sleep with her to find out what she knows about Grier,” he grumbled.

  “Who said anything about sleeping with her? Uh, one-track mind?” AJ snorted. “All I said was become friends with her. She cut her arm, right? Go over there tomorrow to make sure she’s okay.”

  Caleb studied the monitor with a frown. The bedroom was now empty, but light spilled from underneath the closed bathroom door. Another part of the routine, a long shower after sexy yoga.

  Indecision rippled inside him. Should he do this? It had been kind of amusing, talking to her outside. She had a great sense of humor, and sh
e also happened to be the most beautiful woman Caleb had ever seen. Plus he was wildly attracted to her. An attraction that could equal trouble.

  But AJ had a point. Caleb’s supervisor, Ken Stevens, was a good man, but he wasn’t known for his patience. If this stakeout didn’t produce any results, if Grier didn’t show up soon, Stevens would pull them out. Making contact with Marley and finding out if she knew anything might help move the case along. Hell, it might be the only way to keep the case alive.

  “I guess I can do that,” he said slowly. “Just to see if she knows something.”

  Right, because her fresh-faced beauty and killer body have nothing to do with it.

  “You’re a professional,” AJ said, as if he knew where Caleb’s thoughts had drifted. “Keep it casual, dig around and hopefully she leads us to Grier.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  AJ let out a frustrated sigh that revealed precisely how he felt about his next words. “Then we go back to waiting.”

  EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS, Patrick Grier deftly hopped the fence leading into the backyard of the house across the street from Marley’s. Darkness bathed the yard, which only helped his cause as he crept toward the back door. He’d purposely waited for the sun to set, killing time on a pier a few miles from here. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him in this neighborhood. A contact of his had warned him the cops were still watching Marley. Otherwise he would’ve broken into her house months ago. But he had to play it safe. Getting caught wouldn’t help him or Marley one damn bit.

  The door swung open easily when he turned the knob, and he stepped into the dark house. The temptation to run across the street to see Marley was so strong his legs started to itch. He swiftly fought the urge. He didn’t have a death wish, after all.

  Breaking into this house had been risky enough, but fortunately he knew the old bat who lived here. He’d spoken to Lydia White several times when he’d lived across the street, and during their talks he’d learned she lived alone and had zero family. No friends, either, though that wasn’t a surprise considering her foul personality.

  But even bitches had to eat.

  Tucking the deli bag under his arm, Patrick headed upstairs without turning on any lights. The spare bedroom at the end of the hall had a perfect view of Marley’s place, and when he peeked out the window, he noticed her bedroom light was on. Was she lying in bed, thinking of him?

  Turning away from the window, he strode to the narrow closet and flung the door open. A pair of wide brown eyes greeted him, along with the muffled screams of Lydia White as she wiggled around on the closet floor like a scared puppy.

  Patrick scrunched up his nose when the faint odor of urine drifted into his nostrils. “You couldn’t hold it for a day?” he spat out.

  The old lady whimpered, terror filling her wrinkled face.

  Gritting his teeth, Patrick bent down and hauled her up so that she was sitting. He yanked off the duct tape stuck to her mouth. “Open your mouth, I brought you some grub. And remember what I said about screaming.” As a reminder, he half turned to show her the black 9mm sticking out of his waistband.

  Another whimper.

  Ripping the wax paper covering the ham sandwich he’d picked up, he lifted one half to the lady’s mouth and practically forced it down her wrinkled old throat. She objected at first, but then began to chew, unable to resist the first form of nourishment she’d had since he’d left the house early this morning.

  He stifled a curse as he fed the old bat, wishing he could just kill her and be done with it. But he wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. No, he only killed when his own survival was threatened. Besides, he needed old Lydia around to answer the phone when some rare person called—while Patrick held a gun to her head, of course.

  So far, Lydia had followed instructions like a pro. And using her house as his base of operations was ideal. For the moment.

  “Here,” he barked, uncapping a bottle of water and bringing it to Lydia’s mouth.

  The elderly woman drank fervently, but the glimmer of fear never once left her eyes.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. “I told you, I won’t be here long. I’m just making some arrangements and then I’ll be gone.”

  And so would Marley. No way was he leaving her behind. She was the love of his life, after all. So unbelievably different from the fast and loose women in his past. He’d known it the second she’d walked into his hospital room in her green scrubs, with that gentle smile on her face.

  His smile dissolved into a frown as he thought about all the shit that had gone down three months ago. He still experienced an onslaught of rage every time he remembered what had happened in the warehouse. Damn cops. The shipment they’d intercepted had cost him millions of dollars. Not to mention that they’d officially made it impossible for him ever to live in the States again.

  Tomorrow morning, he planned on driving to Tijuana to meet with a guy who was arranging the necessary papers, and he was still working on a way to contact Marley. Once he did, he could get hold of the money he’d hidden in her house. He’d stashed two hundred grand under her bathroom floor three days after he moved in; it was part of his routine—always have an exit strategy in case you need one.

  And then there was the hundred grand in his and Marley’s joint account. Earlier this week a European contact who owed him money had transferred the dough in there, since the feds had frozen all of Patrick’s personal accounts and he didn’t have the resources yet to open anything new. He wasn’t sure why they’d left the joint account open—his instincts told him it was a trap—but if he could, he planned on transferring the amount to a bank in the Caymans when he secured the necessary ID papers.

  Once he got the cash from Marley’s house, though, he was outta here.

  And Marley was going with him.

  Sure she is, came the cynical voice in his head. Women always love men who betray them.

  “She does love me,” Patrick insisted, wishing he could punch that bothersome voice. “And she’ll forgive me for lying to her. Marley doesn’t stay angry at people, it’s not her way.”

  He noticed the old lady staring up at him with eyes as big as saucers. Had he spoken out loud?

  “She does, you know,” he said to Lydia. “Love me, I mean.”

  The certainty surrounding his heart was as strong as steel, causing the worry in his gut to dissolve. Of course Marley would forgive him. She was still his. All he had to do was find a way to get to her. And once he had the cash, he was going to whisk Marley away to a place where nobody could ever tear them apart again.

  3

  “OKAY, SO HERE’S WHAT you’re going to do,” Gwen said, tightening the drawstring on her bright pink scrubs.

  Marley flopped onto the narrow bench in the nurse’s locker room and bent down to untie her shoelaces. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your neighbor.”

  “You’re still hung up on this?” Marley frowned. “I told you, he’s kind of strange.”

  “But you said he was cute.” Gwen grinned. “And he caught you when you did a swan dive off the roof.”

  “Fine, he gets two points for that. And then minus three points for being aloof. I swear, he couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

  “But you spoke to Debbie, right?”

  Marley nodded. “Before I left for work. She said she and Stu did rent the house, to a writer from New York, and, yes, his name is Caleb Ford.”

  “Well, there you go, he was telling the truth.”

  “Yeah, but… Something about him was really off.”

  “So he’s shy. Which is why you need to make a move,” Gwen answered as she tied her curly hair in a loose twist at the top of her head. “Tonight you’re going to walk next door and ask for a cup of sugar.”

  Marley laughed. “No way. That’s so lame.”

  “Wait, I’m not done. So you ask for the sugar, and then you bat your eyelashes and say, ‘Actually, maybe I can give you some sugar instea
d.’ One thing will lead to another and presto! You get laid and forget all about Patrick.”

  Marley shot her friend a firm look. “I’m not going to seduce my neighbor.”

  “Then at least promise to keep an open mind,” Gwen pleaded. “There’s no harm in saying hi to the guy next time you see him. Just don’t be afraid of some flirting, or heck, even a casual conversation. Oh, and could you please come out with me and Nick on Tuesday? We’re going to the salsa bar. It’ll be a good time.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Marley took a step toward the locker room door. “I gotta go. My feet are killing me and I’m craving a long, hot bubble bath.”

  Gwen sighed. “I hate the night shift,” she complained as she followed Marley out the door. “You’re so lucky you’re going home.”

  “Yeah, to sleep,” she replied with a sigh. “I’m coming back for the graveyard shift, while you get to spend the night with your boyfriend.”

  “Good point.”

  They said goodbye in the hallway, and Marley headed for the elevator, her flip-flops snapping against the white linoleum floor.

  When she exited the hospital, the early-evening air was warm, and she breathed it in, enjoying the fresh scent of salt and palm trees. She loved San Diego—the heat, the laid-back atmosphere, the ocean. She hadn’t been to the beach in ages, she realized as she crossed the parking lot to her car. The renovations in her house were tedious and left little time for trips to the beach.

  But maybe Gwen was right. Maybe it was time to quit using her house as an excuse not to go out and have fun. God knew she needed some fun after the past year.

  Before she could start the car, her cell phone burst out in the Pussycat Dolls ringtone Gwen had downloaded as a joke. Her brother’s number flashed on the screen, causing Marley to stifle a groan. Sam still hadn’t come back to finish the closet he’d half gutted, and she had a feeling she was in for another excuse.

  Sighing, she lifted the phone to her ear. “Hey, Sammy. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to touch base with you about the closet.”