“You could’ve asked where
they were.” She picked his hand up again and wiped away the
blood.
“I wasn’t dressed.” Not
that a towel counted as being dressed, but he hadn’t thought she
was around.
“I’ve seen you without a
shirt, Harte.” She poured antiseptic on the wound. Before he
finished his wince, she blew on his palm.
Arousal flooded him as effectively as if
she’d spread herself over him. When he swayed in his chair, he
grabbed the corner of the table with his free hand. The veins in
his head pounded.
“No, Mags.” She had to
know what he meant. He cleared his throat again and looked over her
head, trying to ignore the effect of her touch on his starved soul.
The throbbing of his cut paled in comparison to his other aches as
every brush of her fingers over his palm made him burn hotter. “I
mean I wasn’t dressed.”
“And you still aren’t. I
seem to be surviving.”
Her cool words washed over him. Though the
fire still raged in his veins, he was thinking more clearly. And
damn if they weren’t fun thoughts. The kids were no longer around
to serve as buffers. The distraction could be fun. She couldn’t be
as unaffected as she now appeared. He’d felt her previous reactions
to him.
Unless taking her by surprise was the key to
her arousal.
She’d spoken once about Mike’s gentleness in
all things. He could have been the same way in the bedroom. How sad
to live with
sex-only-on-Saturday-mornings-and-anything-beyond-missionary-is-hedonistic
type thinking. The kitchen was as good a place as any to snap those
restraining thoughts.
Perhaps she’d had enough predictability and
the thrill of something different got her off. Whatever made her
tick, Maggie Sullivan was not as cool as she pretended and, smart
or not, BD would make her react again.
She glued the cut closed,
laid a piece of gauze bandage on his palm, and then reached for the
first-aid tape. “Had you yelled, I would’ve told you there’s a
first-aid kit under the sink.”
“I didn’t see
one.”
“Obviously.” She pressed
the first piece of tape in place and ran her finger over it to make
sure it stuck.
He rolled his eyes and leaned in a little
closer as her touch echoed within his hungry soul. His breath sent
a tendril of her hair waving. The pulse in her throat jumped.
Not unaffected.
He smiled as he watched her place the second
strip of tape. He leaned closer still as she placed her finger on
the end of the tape, ready to press it down like she had the
first.
“I like the way you do
that.” He whispered near her ear and grinned when her pulse
rabbited.
She placed the third tape
strip in place. Her finger slid over it. He moved even closer. Only
a few inches separated them now. “You smell…delicious.”
She didn’t turn to him, but
she swallowed with a barely audible gulp.
Oh yeah, he affected her.
She laid the last tape
strip on his palm. As she ran her finger over it, he closed another
inch. “Such a soft…touch.”
Instead of looking away or
leaning back, Maggie turned her head. She was close enough that her
nose brushed his. Her gaze stared into his. She opened her mouth
slightly and blew a warm breath across his lips. “Is that all
you…need?”
His stomach jumped. He
hadn’t thought he could be more aroused, but her single breath and
the implication of her words invaded every corner of his hungry
body. “Not quite.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint
you, Harte.” She squeezed his injured hand hard enough to start a
painful throbbing and moved away to clean up the mess. “You aren’t
my type.”
He sat back in his chair, blinking. The
throbbing called back some of the blood that had rushed to his
groin. She had been right there, as aroused as him, but she’d
easily brushed off the heat.
How?
On her way to the sink she missed a step.
When she got there, she fisted her hands on the edge. BD grinned.
He may not be the type she wanted to want, but she wanted him.
Slowly and quietly, testing them both, he
walked toward her. The smart move would be to return to his room,
shave, get dressed and go to work. Drop the idea of shaking her
shields with a seduction. He couldn’t stop Adalia if he played
games all day with Maggie, but the games promised more fun. Wanting
a moment of fun, allowing the man to take priority over the cop,
wasn’t always bad.
He stopped behind her and
moved in close enough to look over her shoulder, but stayed far
enough away to avoid their bodies brushing. Barely. “Thank you for
the nursing, Mags,” he whispered. “Next time I want the outfit
too.”
“Are you trying to crowd
me, Harte?” She didn’t react. She even sounded composed as she
rinsed his blood out of the rag and the towel he’d used.
“Not at all. Just
expressing my—” he stepped up, brushing his erection against her,
“—gratitude.”
Her laugh was an unexpected
flow of joy he wanted to hear more often. The shake of her body
against his was an awakening. “That’s not gratitude.”
“Nurses know best.” He
pressed against her one last time before backing away.
Wanting to see her reaction, he walked
backward to the doorway and watched as her breaths came sharply and
her hands no longer worked the rag. She stared straight ahead.
He was going to Hell, no
two ways about it. May as well make the journey more exciting.
“Mags.”
“Yes?” Her sweet voice
cracked a little.
Grinning, he rested his
hands on his waist and waited for her to turn and face him, which
she finally did. “Since the sight of my body doesn’t affect you one
way or the other, I’ll not bother next time.”
He flicked a hand and sent the towel
cascading to the floor. Cocking a brow, he gave her a completely
unobstructed view.
She gasped. Her eyes widened. Arousal stamped
her flushed cheeks. Never again would she be able to claim he left
her unaffected.
Whistling, he walked back to his room. Oh
yeah, he was going to Hell.
“Son of a…” BD fisted his
hands against the urge to throw his computer, or anything else
close at hand, across the crowded bullpen. “It has to be a dirty
cop.”
“Could be a prison guard.”
Craig—reading the prison records they’d finally received—flipped a
pen between his fingers.
“Both.” Having
confirmation from Captain Winchester that Adalia had to have had
inside help with her escape, BD ping-ponged between rage and the
futility of having no real answers. He looked again at the prison
logs. “No cops were signed in at the time.”
“A guard could’ve let one
pass.”
“Or it could have been set
up from before.” Winchester was going to have the guards on duty at
the time of Adalia’s escape interviewed, but BD wasn’t convinced
they would find anything. Typically speaking, the ones who got
caught up in bribes were good at lying and covering their
tracks.
“Detectives.”
BD raised a brow at Officer
Mac McClain as he approached in jeans and a dark blue T-shirt.
“McClain.”
“I’m off shift. Thought
I’d see if you needed any help.” Mac stood ramrod straight, with
his legs braced slightly apart and his hands behind his back, in a
military at-ease stance. A sheepish blush stained his
cheeks.
BD tapped his pen against the papers in front
of him.
“Sir, I’m sorry about
that.” Mac lifted his chin slightly. “I’ve placed an extra change
of civvies in my car should I be needed again on short
notice.”
Craig coughed out a laugh.
“Mac, relax.”
“Sir, I screwed up.” He
remained at attention.
“It wasn’t your fault,” BD
offered. Maggie had known about Adalia and, though he hadn’t
admitted it to her, he could have told her about a tail. Or at
least expected her to be on the lookout. “She sees too
much.”
“Yes, sir.”
BD dropped his pen and
squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Sit down.”
McClain nodded once and followed the order
keeping his back ramrod straight.
“Mac, you’ve been out of
the military a few years now. Your record from the Austin PD is
stellar, and you’ve done a great job since coming on
here.”
“Thank you,
sir.”
“I’m guessing you joined
the military as soon as you graduated high-school to get away from
something.”
He hesitated momentarily
before answering. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t take this the wrong
way, but if you don’t loosen up and stop addressing us as if we’re
your commanding officers, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Sorry, sir?”
“Like that. Call me BD or
Harte.” He pointed at Craig, who grinned as he kicked back in his
chair still flipping his pen. “He’s Craig or Harrison.”
“Yes, si—BD. I’ll work on
it.” Mac stood and started to walk away, but turned back with a
grin. “For the record, I don’t think you could kick my
ass.”
Craig burst out laughing.
BD smiled slowly. “See,
that’s more like it. And anytime you want to test your theory, you
let me know. I’d love the workout”
“Will do. And I’ll do a
drive-through of Mrs. Sullivan’s neighborhood before I go
home.”
“Thanks.” BD watched
McClain walk away and laughed. “He’s not going to be on the streets
long before he tests for his detective’s badge.”
“He’ll make a good
one.”
“Yeah.” BD picked up the
file of notes he’d made copies of. Normally the noise of the
bullpen didn’t bother him, but today, he needed quiet and space to
spread out and think. “I’m going to a conference room. You
coming?”
“You know me and puzzles.”
Craig grabbed his laptop bag, a pen and notepad from his
desk.
“Harte!” Pritchett
bellowed from across the bullpen. “You find that killer and her
papers with your superior know-it-all skills? Or are you too busy
banging the pretty brunette?”
BD took a step toward Pritchett before
catching sight of a young boy about Jared’s age sitting with his
mother, a pretty brunette, with another detective. Bruises covered
their faces. They shrank back when they looked at him. Whether the
mom’s fear was from the thought of a killer or BD pounding on
someone he’d never know.
Everyone watched, waited,
for his reaction. Swallowing his rage, he turned back to his desk
and grabbed a rubbery stress ball from a drawer—he had several. He
went and knelt before the little boy. Holding the ball out, BD
offered an encouraging smile. “When you’re scared or angry, use
it.”
“Playing with balls.
Figured you for a cock lover.” Pritchett spouted more
obscenities.
BD ignored him for the sake
of the boy. “Squeeze ’til your hand shakes and your arm hurts. The
bad stuff will fade.”
The mom rested her hand on her son’s shoulder
and nodded. He took the ball with a quiet thanks and trembling
hands.
Without a second look at Pritchett, BD headed
toward the conference room. The day would come for Pritchett to eat
his own balls and BD would do the feeding.
“Speaking of Maggie,”
Craig said as he stepped into the hall with him, “any word on how
she’s getting along with Officer Phillips today?”
“No.” Unwilling to leave
her alone, BD had begged an off-duty female detective posing as a
visiting friend to stay with Maggie. He had no doubt she would one
day call in a return favor. “Phillips will call if there are
problems.”
Two hours later, having had no success at
deciphering Adalia’s notes or finding anything else of use, he
stepped through the front door and landed smack in the middle of
the chaos that seemed to be Maggie’s home.
“This has to stop!”
Maggie’s angry shriek echoed through the tiled hall.
The living room was messy, with knick-knacks
moved around or knocked over, couch cushions tossed to the floor, a
chair turned over and DVD cases strewn about.
So much for an hour with the punching bag to
work off building frustrations.
“Mrs. Sullivan. Maggie.”
Tension rose Detective Phillips’s voice a couple octaves above
normal. “We need to call Harte.”
Following their voices he
rushed toward Maggie’s room. She stood just inside the doorway,
shaking with rage. Chunks of her habitually perfect braid had been
pulled loose—hopefully from her own hands in
frustration.
While the living room was messy, her room had
been destroyed. Dresser drawers hung half open. Clothes and
shredded lingerie were scattered. Her bedding, including the
mattress and pillows, had been gutted, and the headboard sported a
giant X in what looked to be blood rather than paint. The blinds
had been ripped from the windows, leaving a clear view into the
empty neighboring house.
This was pure sadistic rage left in Adalia’s
wake. A calculated evil that would spill over to the public if she
wasn’t stopped. Fast. Her single-minded focus was the only thing
working in their favor. She would miss a step.
“Maggie.” He took her hand
to pull her into the hallway.
She spun and swung at him with her free hand
fisted and eyes wide. He jerked her around, pinned her back to his
chest with her arms beneath his before walking her into the
hall.