Witness Seduction

by Elle Kennedy

  A tiny thrill shot through her. She needed to stop being so closed off and suspicious. It actually felt nice, having someone in her corner.

  “I’m going to have to confiscate the computer,” Hernandez said, his words sounding stilted. He picked up the laptop and tucked it under his arm. “The boys at the station will try to figure out where the email came from.”

  “Thank you,” Marley said.

  Hernandez slowly studied her face. “Is this the first contact Grier has made?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Marley’s spine stiffened. She opened her mouth to reply, but Caleb spoke before she could. “Why do you insist on treating her like a suspect?” he asked in an even voice.

  “I’m doing my job, Mr. Ford. I’m expected to examine every angle.”

  “Well, you’re wasting your time on this one. Marley didn’t do anything wrong. She was used and lied to, and you might actually get a break in the case if you focused your attention on more important angles.”

  Hernandez looked absolutely livid. The tension in the kitchen skyrocketed, mingling with the rage radiating from both men. Marley sighed and quickly attempted to diffuse their volatile emotions.

  “This is the first time Patrick has contacted me,” she said loudly. “And yes, I’m sure. As I told you three months ago, Patrick went to a design convention and never came back. Two days later, you showed up at my door and told me who he really is. And a half hour ago, he emailed me. That’s all I can tell you, Detective.”

  “Okay, then. We’ll get on this email development right away.” Scowling at Caleb, Hernandez took a step toward the doorway. “And if he tries to make contact again, call us immediately.”

  Nodding, Marley led the detective out of her kitchen and walked him to the front door. Caleb trailed behind them, his shoulders stiff. She offered Hernandez a polite thank-you for his help, then leaned against the door frame and watched as he strode to his car with her laptop under his arm.

  The engine of the black sedan roared to life, and then Hernandez drove off. Marley turned to face Caleb. “I appreciate your sticking up for me like that, but I don’t know if it was a good idea for you to interfere with Hernandez.”

  She still couldn’t believe he’d done it. He didn’t even know her, yet he’d reprimanded the detective, the conviction in his voice so strong when he’d insisted she couldn’t be helping Patrick.

  “He’ll get over it,” Caleb said, shrugging.

  “You’re a good man, Caleb. Not many people would defend someone they’ve only known a few days. For all you know, I really could be helping Patrick.”

  “You wouldn’t do that,” he said, sounding gruff.

  Despite her reservations emotion filled her chest, making Marley’s throat tighten. His faith in her came as an odd relief. She normally didn’t care what people thought. As long as her family and close friends knew what kind of person she was, it didn’t matter what jerks like Hernandez believed. But knowing that Caleb trusted her brought an unexpected rush of pleasure.

  She realized she was starting to like him a lot. Not just because he’d caught her when she’d fallen off the roof or because he’d offered to help her renovate. There was something about his quiet strength and rare laughter that made her heart jump. She was shocked at how quickly her feelings were growing.

  “I have to go,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I’m next door if you need me. If anything happens, if your ex causes any trouble, don’t hesitate to come and get me, okay? Day or night, Marley.”

  All she could do was nod, amazed by the sincerity in his deep voice. He really meant it. He would actually be willing to protect her, a woman he’d just met. Maybe there were some good and decent men left in this world.

  As his hand reached for the doorknob, she burst out, “Wait.”

  Caleb turned. “Yeah?”

  Without another word, she eliminated the distance between them, cupped his strong jaw with both hands, and kissed him.

  Like placing a hand on a hot stove, her body got an immediate reaction from the feel of his firm lips against hers. Heat torpedoed into her, and she deepened the kiss, needing to taste him. He hesitated when she ran her tongue along the seam of his lips, seeking entry, but then he let her in.

  She flicked her tongue over his, eliciting a ragged groan from deep in his throat. He was restraining himself, and she didn’t like it. So she pressed her body closer to his and wrapped her arms around him. Feeling bold, she let her hands skim down his body to touch his taut ass. Gave it a little squeeze, too.

  Caleb chuckled against her mouth. “Did you just squeeze my butt?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She brushed her lips over his. “Are you complaining?” Without letting him reply, she kissed him again. Caleb was so darn reserved all the time. She wanted to see some of his control crumble, wanted to feel him let go.

  She got her wish seconds later, when he suddenly released a husky growl and returned the kiss with fervor. And then he was touching her, his warm hands stroking her hips, caressing her belly, reaching around to cup her bottom. He squeezed her the way she’d just done to him, then moved his hands back to her waist and began to drag his palms over her stomach, slowly traveling up to her breasts.

  Her nipples pebbled, her core burning with passion. Marley shivered, whimpered, then gasped when he grazed the underside of each breast. God, she wanted him to touch her. To fondle her and kiss her and slide into her—

  He abruptly broke off the kiss, his hands dropping from her chest. “I should go.” Each word was a hoarse gasp.

  Marley was still a little stunned, amazed by her own boldness, but even more surprised by the sparks crackling between them like fireworks. She wanted him so badly every inch of her body ached and tingled. What was happening to her?

  “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” she asked impulsively. “My treat.”

  He ran one hand through his scruffy hair, drawing her attention to the fleck of yellow paint caught in his dark tresses. “No painting involved,” she added, grinning.

  Hesitation flickered across his face. “I don’t know, I have a lot of work to do.”

  “Please?” She swallowed. “I could use the company.”

  She knew he was thinking about the email her psychotic ex-fiancé had just sent her—she was thinking about it, too. When he finally nodded, pleasure bloomed inside her.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “What time?”

  “I’ll be home from the hospital around five, so how’s seven?”

  “Seven,” he confirmed.

  She opened the door for him, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  Caleb gave a slight nod, bade her goodbye and stepped onto the porch. She watched him walk off, then closed her front door and went back inside.

  Her heart did a little jumping jack, and not even the memory of Patrick’s disgustingly loving email could bring down her mood. The police would find Patrick. She had to believe in that, otherwise she’d be cowering in fear, hiding in her bedroom closet or something. No matter how apprehensive the thought of Patrick coming back here made her, she wasn’t going to cower. She was stronger than that.

  And right now, all she wanted to do was bask in the surprising and delicious feelings Caleb inspired in her and look forward to sharing dinner with a man who wasn’t a psychotic criminal.

  “SON OF A BITCH,” PATRICK muttered under his breath, his eyes glued to the dark-haired man who’d just walked out of Marley’s house.

  Anger bubbled in Patrick’s gut as he noticed the other man’s cocky stride. The guy walked like a cop.

  Probably because he was one.

  Patrick’s entire body had turned into a block of ice when he’d seen that unmarked cruiser slide into Marley’s driveway, but the shock hadn’t been as great as the one he’d experienced when a very familiar DEA agent strolled outside to exchange a few words with the detective.

  He clenched his fists. He’d known th
e cops were watching Marley, but the DEA had someone right next door? Shit. That would make getting to her a hell of a lot more difficult.

  Did she know her neighbor was a cop? Patrick froze as he pondered that question. No, the agent must be pulling the wool over her eyes. Marley would never work with the cops. She was on his side.

  Then why did she give the fat detective her laptop?

  “They were tracking her email,” he mumbled after a moment. He’d thought about that when he was at the internet café sending her the message, but he’d figured it was a risk he could afford to take. The cops would trace the email to the computer at the café, but it wasn’t like Patrick would be hanging around there, sipping lattes.

  Marley had no choice. She’d had to give them her computer. What worried him more was the disconcerting presence of the agent next door. Patrick remembered him from the raid. The bastard had pointed a gun at him, ordered him to surrender. And now here he was, waiting for another chance to make his arrest.

  “They won’t catch me,” Patrick said smugly, turning his attention to the woman on the bed.

  He’d moved Lydia out of the closet to give her a little bit of air—he wasn’t a monster, after all—but she was still bound and gagged. Still looking at him with those terrified eyes.

  “Relax,” he said with a sigh. “I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you that.”

  She whimpered, bringing a wave of irritation to his gut. Striding over to the bed, he sat down on the edge and stared directly at her. “I’m not a bad guy, all right? So quit looking at me like that. What’s so wrong with wanting to make a little money?”

  The old lady couldn’t answer because of the gag stretched across her mouth, but the look in her eyes was annoyingly familiar. His parents used to sport that same expression, when he told them about all the big plans he had for himself. They didn’t understand, though. His parents were too bland, too ordinary. They were perfectly happy living in their crappy little Iowa town, teaching math to snot-faced schoolchildren, and letting their lives pass them by.

  Well, Patrick wasn’t like them. All he’d ever wished for as a child was to get out of Nowhereville, Iowa, and be somebody. He wanted to live life. He wanted millions of dollars in the bank and yachts and trips around the world.

  But above all that, he wanted Marley.

  She was beautiful and kind and good. And a bad boy like him needed a good girl like her for balance.

  Except now he had that asshole cop to contend with. It would be no easy feat, getting the money he’d stashed under the tile in Marley’s bathroom, but he knew he’d find a way.

  He always did, after all.

  6

  CALEB SPENT MOST of the morning going over his files on Patrick Grier, focusing on the list of known associates and persons of interest, and trying to figure out who Grier might turn to for help other than his ex-fiancée. By the early afternoon he gave up. The DEA and local law enforcement had already scoured that list for months, and so far it hadn’t produced any leads. There was some hope with a former contact of Grier’s in Mexico, but the man wasn’t talking and no amount of pressure seemed to help.

  Getting up from his chair, Caleb rubbed his eyes, then glanced at the bed, noticing that all the sheets lay in a tangled mess on the floor. He’d been awake most of the night, tossing, turning, cursing and trying not to think about Marley. Of course, he’d failed miserably, and in the end he’d been up for hours, tossing, turning, cursing and totally thinking about Marley.

  He’d contemplated going to the guest room next door and dragging AJ out of bed, maybe getting a game of poker going, but he’d resisted the urge. AJ wouldn’t understand the feelings Caleb was developing for Marley. Disturbing feelings. His emotions, normally tightly reined in, now flowed like water from a leaky faucet, and he was helpless to turn them off.

  He liked Marley.

  No, he really liked her. And he wanted her so badly he couldn’t think straight anymore. Just the thought of her made every part of his body ache. His head. His groin. His heart.

  “Forget about that,” he mumbled to himself, raking his fingers through his hair as he leaned back. “Focus on the job.”

  Unfortunately, his body wouldn’t let him forget. He had an erection of colossal proportions straining against the front of his gray sweatpants, and in his groin an ache so deep his bones hurt.

  His cell phone started ringing before he could slink off to the bathroom and resort to self-gratification. Noticing the caller ID, he suppressed a sigh and picked up the phone.

  “Hello, sir,” he said.

  A vile curse battered his eardrums. “What’s going on over there, Ford?” his supervisor demanded.

  “What do you mean?”

  Ken Stevens wasn’t put off by his casual tone. “Miguel Hernandez just gave me a call, wanting to know why one of my agents is cozying up to Marley Kincaid.”

  Thanks a lot, Hernandez.

  “I’m not cozying up to her,” he replied. “I had no choice but to make contact with her.” Quickly, he explained the ladder incident, finishing with, “AJ thought since I’d already interacted with her, I should keep it up to see if she knows anything about Grier.”

  “And does she?”

  “No.”

  Stevens made a frustrated noise. “Next time, speak to me before you decide to go against protocol.” Stevens paused. “What’s this email Hernandez mentioned?”

  Caleb told him what the message contained, even though Stevens probably had a copy of it sitting in front of him on his desk. “I told you he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her,” he said. “He’s going to make a move soon, sir. I feel it in my gut.”

  “Then stay put and keep your eyes open.”

  Despite his sometimes hotheaded nature, Stevens had always possessed a great deal of faith in Caleb and his abilities, which Caleb appreciated at the moment. He knew his boss wasn’t happy that he’d befriended Marley, but both men understood that there were bigger things to worry about at the moment.

  “I’ll catch him, sir,” Caleb said “He’s been lucky all these years, keeping his cover solid, avoiding charges, but his luck is up. I think he’s obsessed with Kincaid, and he will come for her.”

  Stevens sighed. “He’d better.”

  “No breaks on your end?”

  “Lukas is still monitoring the bank account Grier opened with Kincaid, but there haven’t been any more deposits and no withdrawal attempts. I’ve got six agents on the airports, two watching San Diego General and a few more talking to Grier’s associates. We’re running out of manpower.”

  Stevens’s voice hardened. “Don’t get too close to her, Ford. Keep the contact casual—we can’t risk having this case thrown out of court if you get involved with a witness. And keep me posted.”

  As usual, his supervisor hung up without uttering a goodbye. Stevens didn’t have time for pleasantries, never had.

  Caleb set the phone on the desk and glanced down at his ratty sweatpants, then lifted his hand to his chin and rubbed the thick stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. He should, though. He couldn’t have dinner with Marley looking like a disheveled lumberjack.

  He rubbed his forehead, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. His job at the agency was all he had, all he cared about, and here he was, risking it for a woman with big brown eyes and a gorgeous smile.

  Why couldn’t he stay away from her? He had no reason to maintain contact—he was already convinced she had no information about Grier. He should be walking away from her, not running straight toward her.

  He could always cancel their dinner date. Tell her he was sick or that he had to go out of town. But then he imagined the disappointment in her voice when he backed out, and knew he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to disappoint Marley. He wished he knew where these protective instincts had sprung from and why he so desperately wanted to make her happy.

  Don’t get too close to her.

  He almost laughed. Wha
t would Stevens do if he knew Caleb was going over there tonight for dinner?

  Probably can his ass.

  MARLEY DID ONE LAST SWEEP of the living room, making sure she’d dropped the clutter level from this chick is a slob to organized mess. She’d opted to serve Caleb dinner in the living room, since the kitchen reeked of paint. The Chinese food she’d ordered would be arriving any minute, and she’d already rid the coffee table of the paperback novels that usually resided there.

  Now she stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of comfy black pants and her favorite stretchy green T-shirt. Butterflies danced around in her stomach.

  “What am I doing?” she mumbled to herself, sinking down on the couch cushions.

  She’d told Gwen she wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone new, yet she seemed to be going out of her way to do just that. She pictured Caleb’s face, wondering what it was about him that captivated her. Patrick had won her over with his easygoing smiles and almost youthful enthusiasm. He had a lust for life, charm that just poured out of him.

  But Caleb…he was more intense. A little awkward around her, too, which she found kind of adorable. And whenever she thought about his hot kisses and lazy caresses, her body tightened with awareness.

  Her head jerked up at the sound of the doorbell, immediately followed by the sound of her pulse drumming in her ears like the beat of a club song. She drew in a breath, willed her heartbeat to slow, then went to the door.

  When she opened it, she found Caleb on the porch, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt, and holding two large paper bags with steam rolling out of the top. “I intercepted your delivery man at the door,” he said.

  Marley glanced past his impossibly broad shoulders, and saw the retreating headlights of a beat-up white Honda with Mr. Chow’s logo on the side.