Deep Into The Night (Hartz Island Series) (13 page)

“Hmmm…”

“How come you never kissed me?”

He only had a few more steps to the bed. There were a million reasons, but he decided to keep it short and to the point.

“Probably because you never asked me.”

He felt the pressure of her arms around his neck and the warmth of her breath against his skin. She squirmed just enough that his hand rubbed over her bare butt. He held her tightly, trying to decide if he should just dump her on the bed or kiss the hell out of her.

“I’m asking you now.” Her lips parted and pouted.

“Ah, Christ.”

Crushing her to him, his mouth covered hers hungrily, and she returned his kiss with a recklessness he knew would get him into trouble if he continued much longer. Each time he pulled away, her mouth claimed his. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he eased her down onto the bed and stepped away, breathing hard, fighting the urge to strip down and join her.

“Jack,” she sighed. “I always knew you’d be a good kisser.” She made a few mewing sounds, closed her eyes, and curled up on the bed.

He didn’t trust himself to cover her up.

“It’s late, Cass, get under the covers.”

Jack didn’t wait to see if she did but headed into the shower. Normally, he slept in his underwear, but he decided on a pair of gym shorts with sweats and a sweatshirt. Yeah, he was horny, but there was an intensity that was beyond wanting a quick screw, and it caught him by surprise.

During his shower, Cassie had gotten under the covers. He grabbed his pillow and headed out to the living room. He was couching it tonight.

Chapter Nineteen

T
he combination of Jack talking and the smell of coffee woke her. Cassie rolled over and stared across the bed—his side was still very nicely made. He hadn’t slept in the bed, but she’d slept in his shirt. For a moment, she closed her eyes and thought of the intense dream she had where Jack just kissed her and kissed her. It had been a dream, right? The edge around her lips felt rough. Getting her eyes to focus, she glanced at her watch. Eight a.m. Jack was probably ready to head out the door for work. Quickly, she headed to the dryer, fetched her clothes, and dashed to the bathroom where she got somewhat presentable, with yoga shorts and his shirt.

Dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, Jack stood in front of the large windows with a cup of coffee in one hand. He did not appear to be dashing out the door to work. She caught his eye, and he pointed to the kitchen and held up his coffee. A half a pot of coffee still existed, which she could finish in no time. Creamers and a coffee mug were on the counter next to the pot. She prepped her coffee, took a seat at the granite bar counter, and spun around to see the view. It was a typical gray Seattle day with clouds everywhere, creating a dull look. Only Jack didn’t look dull. His sweats hung low on his hips, and his shirt had inched up, revealing his back. All these years later, her reaction to him hadn’t changed. Cassie refilled her cup, called Jack’s name, and lifted up the pot. He nodded yes, so she filled his and headed back to the kitchen.

Her eye caught sight of Jack’s pillow and blanket strewn on his couch. “Oh,” she mouthed silently. Interesting. He could have crawled into bed with her, but he didn’t. Her mind went from one thought all the way to that he didn’t find her attractive. In yesterday’s conversation, he didn’t say he had a girlfriend…he’d just said he wasn’t married. But he had flirted with her, so…

Cassie took a seat at the counter, unfolded the Seattle Times, and started reading it. Just when she thought she’d have to read the sports section, Jack finished his conversation and joined her in the kitchen area. He poured the last of the coffee in Cassie’s cup and started making another pot. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was avoiding looking at her. Maybe he did have a significant other, and she gave him crap about Cassie being here. Ouch.

“What time did you get home?” she asked.

“Late.”

“You didn’t have to sleep out on the sofa.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Finished with the coffee, he pulled out a skillet.

“I don’t remember you coming home.”

“You were sound asleep.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs and a block of cheddar cheese.

“In the office?” Cassie tried to get a look at Jack’s face, but he had turned away to grate the cheese.

“Yeah.”

That meant if he wanted to see what she’d been surfing on the Internet, he could and probably did. She would have.

“Scrambled eggs and cheese okay? I only have artery-clogging food around here.”

“Sounds good.”

He still wouldn’t look at her, which Cassie found curious. She touched the outline of her lips again and felt certain the kissing hadn’t been a dream. Maybe he was feeling guilty or better yet, made to feel guilty about having her at the condo.

Jack served up the two plates and joined her at the counter. They ate in silence. She stirred uneasily, sensing his disquiet. Had kissing her been that horrible? From the irritation around her lips, they’d kissed pretty darn long.

He cleared his throat and pushed his plate away. She stole a look at him, and he was rubbing his jaw. Not a good sign.

“I have to ask you something, and I need an honest answer.”

Her nerves tensed, and she tried to swallow the eggs, but they caught in her throat. She attempted to wash the eggs down with the coffee. Cassie tried smiling but ended up biting her lip.

“Okay.”

“I need your help.”

She almost fell off the bar stool. Cassie wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t help, so this had nothing to do with another woman.

“After yesterday on the beach, it gave me an idea. Basically, I need you to go undercover with me at a night club here in Seattle owned by the Russian Mob. No one has been able to get near because we look so Fed-like, not their usual clientele, but with your acting background, I think we could at least get in and get photos snapped.”

After last night’s research, she stiffened. “Would these people know Sergei?”

“No, probably not. From what I know, Koslov is just part of the group that steals, chops up the cars, and then puts them back together with switched VIN numbers from salvage yards. He probably has his hands in a bunch of other stuff, too. This group in Seattle has roots that go back to the KGB. Their nursing care operations are legal, but we also believe they’re involved with human trafficking to staff the nursing care facilities and for prostitution. This group isn’t into chopping up autos, though that group does exist here too, but they aren’t connected. Or so we think.”

She gripped her hands to keep her composure, took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and weighed her situation.

He turned his stool to face her. “Before you say no, consider this: I won’t let anything happen to you. It will be similar to the beach thing where we go in disguise. The only thing is we need to be Russian.”

“Does this have anything to do with the island stuff?”

“Yes and no, but not directly. You met Jeannie, and we feel this group is responsible for her husband’s death. As a detective for Seattle PD, he’d been trying to uncover all their activities and in doing so was gunned down. It’s been a huge thorn in a lot of people’s sides. I just wanted to take advantage of you and your great acting skills.” He poked her with his elbow. “You’re very good with disguises.”

“This sounds more like an FBI thing.”

“No one can get in because they ID everyone before they get inside. Members only, closed party, only reservations tonight, etc. Since I’m in the office more than the field, I thought you and I might have a chance. And…I sort of went out on a limb and mentioned it already.”

She sucked in her breath and shook her head in disbelief, fingering her cup. Cassie wanted to help him, to show him she wasn’t a complete screw up, but the information she’d read last night scared her.

“You’ll be safe with me,” he said softly.

She believed him, but still. Their eyes met, and it felt like he was peering into her soul.

“Other than his ego with you leaving, there’s no reason for Koslov to be hunting you down, is there?”

“No, um, not that I can think of.” She cleared her throat and added, “Other than I was the one who walked.”

“Then you’re fine. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

“When do you want to do this?”

“I was hoping tonight.”

“Oh. Well, we have a slight problem.”

He sucked in his breath.

“I am an actress without any props.”

“Uh?”

“Jack, everything I own fit into your washing machine last night. To be Russian means style, mannerisms, fashion. And not just for me, but for you too.”

“So you’ll do this?” he asked.

“Yes, but…”

“Just tell me what you need.”

“Simple.” She swiveled around facing him. “Time and money.” He stared at her, so she explained further. “Time to be Russian. Money buys the clothes.”

“Make me a list while I get ready for work.” Grinning, he pushed off the stool and started down the hallway, with Cassie not far behind him.

He seemed excited, but she felt extremely apprehensive.

“Don’t shave,” she called, and stopped at the office area to grab the laptop.

Cassie created a new document and started inputting her list of what she needed. Next, she made a list for Jack, hit print, and made two copies each. She heard the toilet flush, so she waited a minute before calling his name. No answer, so she headed into the bedroom and turned her back slightly.

“Are you decent?”

“Pretty much.”

Jack stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his hips. She sucked in her breath. Yes, she had seen him naked but had been too crazed to appreciate the view. His fading tan emphasized his muscular chest and arms. She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected by his near-naked body covered by a towel that barely hung on.

“Here’s the lists. I made one for you too.”

He read it quickly, nodded a bit, and then handed it back to her.

“So…what do you think?” She held her breath, not sure of his reaction.

“If that’s what you need, Cass, then that’s what you need. Hell, I don’t know what it takes to look Russian.”

“What about your list? Do you have any of the stuff?”

He gently pushed her into the walk-in closet, flipped on the light, and pointed to the far corner. “Start searching.”

Cassie never figured Jack as a clothes horse, but he had a lot of designer suits, sport coats, and shirts.

He gestured to the wall. “You can thank your sister-in-law Marliss for all that.”

“Marliss?”

He grinned. “Yep. Good ol’ Marliss. Since I was the token bachelor, she kept inviting me to these stuffy dinner parties to meet her girlfriends and then complained to Mike I didn’t dress properly. I guess jeans and cowboy boots didn’t cut it.” He left the closet with jeans and a rugby shirt and continued talking. “For whatever reason, I gave in and met with her girlfriend who was a personal buyer. You’re looking at the result. Hardly worn. I couldn’t take those parties anymore.”

Cassie finally stopped laughing. “You poor thing.”

Dressed, he came back in the closet and grabbed shoes. “That’s what I thought. Mike and I finally came to an agreement. No more parties. Season tickets to the Husky and Seahawk games or football on TV, but no parties.”

Amusement flickered in her eyes. “So tell me, what were Marliss’s friends like?” She pouted the famous Marliss pout when she was unhappy.

He grinned. “Good imitation.” He leaned forward and kissed her pouty lips. It happened so fast, she didn’t react. “Trust me, they were nothing like you.” He grabbed her hand and led her out of the closet, down the hall, and to the kitchen.

“I have to get to work, and I want to go over a few things.”

Astonished at what just happened, she stood mutely. Jack reached into a kitchen drawer and pulled out a key and chain.

“Here’s a key to the front door of everything.” He reached into his back pocket, took out his wallet, and handed her a credit card. “Get what you need. Keep the receipts because it’s work. If anyone gives you any trouble, have them call me. I’ll try and be back by seven. Will that be okay?”

“Yes, but where am I?”

He wrote down his address and the cross streets, then his cell number, and his work number. “Any questions?”

“But, Jack, what if I…what if everything…”

“Spit it out, Cass.”

“This stuff could cost some money.”

“Yes, but not any more than that corner full of useless clothes.” Jack started out the door and stopped. “Grab the keys.” He waited and then reached for her hand, pulling her along. “Come down to the truck with me. I picked you up a phone and left it in the truck.”

Cassie barely kept up with his long stride. Instead of the elevator, he took the stairs. She was glad it was down instead of up, but it was still a challenge in bare feet. He waited for her at the bottom with the door open. They exited into the garage, and she followed him to his truck. A sport BMW zoomed into the garage and came to a screeching halt three parking spaces down. Cassie watched with envy until she saw who got out. Annoyance, coupled with jealousy, hit her. She watched to see if he noticed the leggy Misty dressed in workout clothes and making a lot of noise. If he did, he ignored her.

Jack handed Cassie the Bartell’s bag and said quietly, “Call me when you get it up and running.” He climbed into the truck, buckled his seat belt, and reached to close the door.

She stepped back but thought she heard him swear. Cassie turned around. He was no longer looking at her, but over her head.

“Wow, a little late this morning, Jack? That’s a new one.” The svelte Misty was no longer looking at Jack but making a point of staring at the barefoot Cassie wearing Jack’s flannel shirt. If her eyes could have clawed, they would have.

“Misty.”

Unable to reign in her actress tendencies, Cassie flashed the woman a smile, gently tossed her hair, stepped up onto the running board, practically pushing her chest in Jack’s face. She winked.

Now she heard him clearly when he mumbled, “Ah, Christ.”

In a southern drawl, reprised from her killed-off soap opera character, Cassie said, “Sugar Bear, you big o’ boy, I think you should come home for the lunch…hour…and get all de-stressed and relaxed like.”

Jack shook his head, and rubbed his hand over his jaw. Then, with a swift movement, he pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers, taking his time, kissing her. His hand slid across her butt and held her tight. When he finished, she gasped.

“Now, I really need to get to work.”

Still unable to speak, she nodded and stepped down. He closed the door, started up the truck, but then rolled the window down and motioned for her to step back over.

“Behave,” he said quietly.

She grinned. Not knowing if they were watched, Cassie added a wiggle to her butt, kissed her fingertips, and touched his lips. “Bye-bye.” She blew him a kiss as he pulled away and continued waving, watching him leave.

Pasting a sugary smile across her face, Cassie sucked in her breath and turned around, hoping Misty had disappeared. No such luck. She stood by the elevator frowning. By the time Cassie made the short walk to the elevator, the frown had turned to a glare.

“How are you this joyous morning? It’s Misty, isn’t it?” Cassie asked.

“Jack didn’t introduce you.” She punched the elevator button.

“Oh, my, where’s his manners. I’m Sammi James. That’s Sammi with an i.”

Standing next to her, Cassie estimated the woman to be about thirty-two, which gave Cassie four more years of life experience. She wanted to burst out laughing at the disgusted look on her face. The elevator opened, and they stepped in. Cassie pressed four and then five. With her left hand, she held up the Bartell’s bag.

“Jack is so sweet. He got my birth control pills. Don’t leave home without them.” She laughed. “Though I think little baby Jacks would be adorable, but I don’t think he’s ready yet. What do you think?”

The glaring Misty reached across and hit the first floor button, which came to a jerking stop. “I’m taking the stairs.” She stormed out, muttering something.

“You all have a blessed day, now.” The doors closed, and Cassie covered her mouth, laughing hysterically.

If looks could kill, Cassie would be dead
, thought Jack, laughing. He looked in the rearview mirror to make sure she was still standing when he pulled out of the parking garage. Perhaps the Misty problem would finally go away. He’d forgotten how Cassie would slip into these personas like she did as a kid. It drove Mike and him nuts. One moment she’d be speaking normal like and then the next with some stupid accent. When Mike would complain, Marie Ryan would always say, “Just ignore her. She’s practicing.”

With all the construction on the Alaskan Way Viaduct, the traffic was slow heading south, so he used the time to organize what tools they needed to go undercover. Yeah, Jack felt a little bad pushing Cassie into something he knew she didn’t want to do, but he didn’t want to lose the opportunity to get into the nightclub. With tiny cameras hidden on her, he felt certain they could get the photos they needed. Facial Recognition Software could do the rest. So far, no one had been able to pinpoint exactly who was involved or what.