Bound By Temptation (10 page)

The brush of fingers against the bare skin of her arm sparked goosebumps and chills. She knew who’d touched her before even turning her head. Lucas lifted her wine glass from the small, square table sandwiched between them and raised his brows. His gaze was steady on her, as though she were the only person on the patio.

She shook her head with a smile. Two glasses of wine was her limit, particularly when combined with pain killers.

A combined roar shook the patio again. The men Lucas had gathered on her behalf had split into multiple groups. The groups would merge, only to break apart and reform.

Rio, however, wasn’t in any of the clusters.

She waited for a break in the noise level before reaching out to touch Lucas’s arm. “It’s a good thing Officer Addario never showed up.”

Lucas cocked his head, his intense gaze still locked on her face. “Why?”

“Because he’d know instantly you guys are up to something,” she said with another glance over the crowd.

There was an odd energy to the men. It sizzled between individuals, sweeping through the various groups, lighting the patio with an almost static crackle of…something. He followed her gaze, taking a slow pull on his bottle.

“Adrenaline,” he offered during an ebb in the conversational flow. “We’ve been on stand down for months. Everyone’s a little antsy.”

You’d think being out of the war zone would be a good thing. “Is it always like this before one of your missions?”

“Mostly after a stand down. The adrenaline settles after that, routine sets in.”

Emma was about to mention the lack of women was another dead giveaway that more was going on than it appeared, when his bottle froze on its way down from his mouth.

“Speak of the devil,” he said.

Emma followed his gaze. Addario was weaving his way between clusters of men, nodding to shouts of recognition, pausing for handshakes or back slaps. Pounding some backs in return.

Lucas disappeared, returning with two fresh bottles of beer while Rio was still working his way through the flurry of taunts, shoves, head-rubs and shoulder punches.

What was it with such men? Were they only able to show their affection through physical demonstrations of strength and verbal abuse? The testosterone load practically singed the air.

“Thought you were a no-show,” Lucas said, once Rio reached their side. He handed him a dripping bottle.

Rio glanced over the crowd, who’d returned to their earlier conversations, that adrenaline fueled crackle humming just below the surface again. A frown squinted his eyes, but he simply jerked his head toward the open patio door.

Which was apparently a silent request for privacy, because Lucas set his bottle of Coors on the table next to her wine glass and stood.

He walked around to the other side of the recliner and leaned over Emma, his mouth next to her ear. “Rio has news, let’s head inside.”

She quivered as his moist breath tickled the inside of her ear. When she struggled to vacate the recliner, he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her, which added to the tingles, and butterflies, and flash fire of moist heat that crashed through her like quicksilver. As she hobbled her way through the open slider, Cuddles skulked along behind them. Once inside the kitchen, Lucas shut the patio door and the noise level dropped in half. It dropped another few decibel points between the kitchen and living room.

Cuddles waited until Emma gingerly settled in the arm chair beside the couch before curling between her feet with a gusty sigh.

“What’s with the buzz?” Rio asked, jerking his chin toward the kitchen’s sliding door.

Emma bit her lip, tempted to send Lucas a silent
I-told-you-so.

“Orders came down today. We’re shipping out,” Lucas said, without the slightest hesitation.

“Ah, figured as much from the lack of ladies.” Rio accepted the explanation instantly, without hesitation. “When do you go wheels up?”

Lack of ladies
? There was an actual reason why women hadn’t been invited?

“Within the week. No specifics yet.”

“Wheels up?” Emma glanced between the two men. She almost asked why women hadn’t been invited, only to drag the question back. If this had been a true barbeque, she would have asked this question much earlier. Asking now might give Rio pause, might make him look at things closer.

Both men turned to face her, but Lucas offered the explanation. “Slang for shipping out. The wheels of the airbus lift as it leaves the tarmac.”

Her chest tightened beneath a sudden surge of dread.

Lucas had offered the explanation so quickly and casually…was there truth to it? Was he headed off for another deployment? It would explain the excitement brewing below the surface out there. Most of the men were from Lucas’s SEAL team.

She couldn’t ask him. Not with Rio present. Nor did it really matter, because he’d ship out eventually. That’s what SEALs did. The realization burned its way through her, turning her stomach sour and sweating her palms.

She’d always known he’d eventually head back out of town for his job. But she’d thought it would be in an office somewhere across the country—or the world—behind a computer or pouring over dusty ledgers. His career hadn’t seemed particularly dangerous.

But as a SEAL…one of those elite warriors who penetrated enemy territory, who targeted terrorists, or rescued hostages from armed pirates. Every time they went wheels up, as Lucas and Rio had referred to it, they faced death. She shuddered.

Maybe he had a point…maybe she didn’t know what she was getting into.

“What do you have?” Lucas asked Rio.

His intensity was focused on Addario, rather than her, which was a lucky break. There was a very good chance her sudden dismay had registered on her face. Lucas didn’t miss much. He certainly wouldn’t miss her reaction to his news, which would just reinforce his earlier misguided assumption that she couldn’t handle the consequences of his profession.

Okay, maybe not so misguided. And maybe not that much of an assumption.

“Carmichaels, in Carlsbad?” Rio looked at Emma, his black eyes flat and copish. “That’s where you bought the loveseat?”

Emma nodded. “They have great pieces, at fairly cheap prices.”

Rio turned back to Lucas. “It was robbed four days ago. The owner was killed during the robbery. According to the lead detective on the case, the perps took money, jewelry, coins and the store’s
invoice books.
”

“They killed Mr. Carmichael?” Emma whispered, her voice so tight she could barely speak. Ice crystals formed in her veins and inched outward in an icy avalanche of disbelief and horror.

A round, ruddy face and shock of bright white hair rose in her mind. His hair had always stood on end, like a mad scientist who’d received one shock too many.

“According to his wife, he was anal about recordkeeping. He used receipt books, the kind with carbon paper. A copy for the customer and a copy for the store. All the books are missing for the last year.”

Lucas scowled, glaring down at the floor. “Well we know what they’re after now, and we know they’ll kill for it. They must have found Emma’s address through one of the receipt books.”

Did Addario believe her now? Accept that she hadn’t known what the men who’d ransacked her house had been after? It was hard to tell; coldness and suspicion still hardened his face.

Emma swallowed. “If they’re after the loveseat, why rip my house apart? They would have known just by looking that it wasn’t there.”

Rio drove blunt fingers through his hair. “Must be something inside the loveseat, something small. They were probably making sure you hadn’t found it and hid it elsewhere.”

Lucas nodded in agreement. “Didn’t he keep records of his purchases? If we can find out who he bought the loveseat from, we’ll have our first lead on who’s behind all this.”

“Oh yeah. The old man was a stickler for paperwork. He kept ledgers of his purchases, which include names, addresses, and the corresponding check number and amount he paid for each piece.” Rio paused and then added with an undercurrent of disgust. “None of which is going to help us find out who sold him the loveseat.”

Lucas growled. Pacing to the window, he poked the blind aside. “They took those too?”

“The one covering the past year. We’ll have to go through the store’s bank account. But the checks don’t list what the purchase was for, just the ledger entry number. It’s going to take time to track down the items. It would help if we knew approximately when he bought the loveseat, but his wife doesn’t remember that particular piece of furniture.”

“I can narrow it down a bit,” Emma said. “It wasn’t in the store back in January when I visited and I bought it the first week of April.”

“So between January and April.” Lucas pivoted and headed back across the room, his focus on Emma. “See if you can get hold of your friend and set up a meeting. We need to take a look at this thing.”

“She’s out of town this weekend and won’t return until late tonight,” Emma said absently. Another worry rose. “Do you think she’s in any danger?”

“She shouldn’t be. Unless there was something in your house that pointed them in her direction,” Rio said.

The entire project had been verbal. Emma couldn’t think of anything in her house that referenced the loveseat or where it was currently located.

Emma looked up at Lucas. “Could you get my purse? My cell phone is in there.”

She took the purse Lucas handed her and dug out her phone. After scrolling through her contact list, she highlighted Sam’s name and hit the green phone icon. But the call just went to voicemail.

“What’s her address? I’ll have dispatch send a unit over to her place, make sure the doors and windows haven’t been tampered with.” Rio dug into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a cell phone.

“I can give you directions to her house,” Emma said, squirmed slightly. “But I don’t know her actual address.”

“What’s her full name?”

“Samantha Jackson. She lives on Oak street, but I don’t know the house number.”

Rio lifted his phone to his ears, waited a few seconds and started rattling off orders. After a moment he lowered his arm. “The next available unit will check her house out, make sure there hadn’t been a break-in.”

Fifteen minutes later Rio’s phone rang. He listened for a minute. “Appreciate it.” Lowering his cell, he turned to Emma. “No sign of forced entry. Doesn’t look like anyone tracked the loveseat back to your friend.”

After administering Cuddles’s insulin shot—which got easier and less stomach clenching with each injection—Emma returned to the recliner on the porch.

She called Samantha several more times over the following two hours, but each attempt went to voicemail. Ring by ring, Emma’s worry solidified, a profuse, murky quicksand weighing her down. Had those horrible men found Sam? According to Rio, Sam’s house hadn’t been broken into, but what if they’d grabbed her off the street like they’d tried to do to Emma? They’d shown Mr. Carmichael no mercy. Would they be more humane to a woman? It was doubtful, given their attack on her the morning before.

An image haunted her.
Samantha, lying in a pool of blood, blue eyes fixed and glazed.
She shuddered and shook it aside.

After sticking around long enough to knock back a hamburger or two along with his beer brand of choice, Rio broke away from the cluster of men he’d joined and approached Emma.

His eyes narrowing, he scanned her face. “Still no luck?”

She shook her head, clenching her cell phone in her bandaged right hand. Maybe she was worrying needlessly, after all Samantha had said she wouldn’t get home until late. But why wasn’t she answering her phone? Sam always had her cell on her. And since her fiancé, Roger would be driving, she wouldn’t need to turn it off for safety’s sake.

Rio scrubbed a hand over his thick, black hair and swore softly, glaring down at the cement. After a moment he dropped his hand and reluctantly looked up. “I’ll swing by her place on my way home. If she hasn’t returned yet, I’ll give her house another look.”

“Thank you,” Emma said. Maybe Officer Arctic wasn’t as insensitive as she’d assumed.

Half an hour later, the last of Lucas’s teammates headed for their cars. Lucas and Tag dragged the barbeque back under the eaves, worked the vinyl cover over it, and stacked the plastic chairs neatly against the condo wall. They shoved a steel tub of empty beer bottles next to the stack of chairs.

While they were setting the patio to rights, Emma fought her way to her feet. Cuddles timidly abandoned her side to investigate the cement slab, gobbling down pieces of meat, or scraps of hamburger bun.

“Let’s pack you a bag and get you over to Chris and Lynden’s,” Lucas said, joining her next to the recliner.

She’d met the two men several times over the five years she’d lived in the complex, so they weren’t complete strangers, more like casual acquaintances. Still—it was horribly uncomfortable to impose on them for the night.

“So you’re really going through with this?” she asked, her shoulders tensing.

He studied her face, his eyes calm. Determined. “The bastard who followed us picked up another guy and returned. They snuck into the courtyard at the height of the party. We watched them watch us. They know where you’re staying.”

“Then they’ll know I moved to a different unit,” she said, a cold trickle sliding down her spine.

“They left when Chris wandered over to ask who they were looking for. Said they had the wrong address and took off. I’ve got scouts in place. Nothing fishy has been reported since. But they know where I live. They got a good look at you. They’ll be back.”

She swallowed hard. They knew Lucas was armed, he’d shot up their van and killed one of their men. If they attacked, as Lucas so clearly expected, they’d do so with weapons—guns, maybe knives. The cold trickle down her spine turned into an icy flood.

“Look,” she said, a hard knot forming in her belly, “we know what they’re after now. We’ll know who sold the loveseat to Carmichaels once Rio tracks the check down. This trap isn’t necessary.”

His hand rose toward her cheek, but it fell before making contact. “We can’t assume the previous owner is behind the attack on you. Why sell it, then kill to get it back?”