Oh, my, what was she thinking?
She laid the extra clothes on a chair and slipped into the nightshirt. The feeling of the cloth on her sensitized skin let her know she’d better get herself under control before she did something stupid. She should be exhausted, but her mind whirled with crazy thoughts. She couldn’t imagine even trying to sleep. She didn’t want to be alone. And yet, she knew what would happen if she searched out Mitch. The very thing she wanted, and probably shouldn’t have.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the door and slowly pulled it open. Silence and shadows greeted her. She could barely make out Perry’s box on the dining-room table. She picked it up and carried it into the guest room.
Moving the satin comforter to the side, Emily tugged off the lid. She pulled out the wine bottle she’d seen earlier. Sealed. She grabbed a half-full flask and sighed with the knowledge that Perry’s demons had clearly been with him constantly. She scanned several pages of barely decipherable handwritten notes that had to do with following some guy to Florida.
Several minutes later she picked up a receipt from a wine shop, and the memory of a story Perry had told her recently clicked. Yes! This could be the clue they needed to move on.
Unable to contain her excitement, she ran out of her room. Where was Mitch? She knocked softly on a bedroom door just down from her own. No answer. Then she heard music drifting from beyond the swimming pool.
She followed the sound until she reached the infamous hot tub. And Mitch. His dark head rested against the tile edge. The bubbling water was nestled among tropical plants, palms, orchids and other brightly colored flowers she’d never seen before. Mitch’s brother had created a jungle paradise inside his house, but when she studied Mitch’s face, expecting to see pure pleasure, she found tight lines of pain around his mouth, a furrow in his brow.
She’d known he was stoic, but he obviously had no intention of letting anyone know the true extent of his pain. After all the activity, his leg had to be hurting badly, because he looked like he was in agony. Well, he wasn’t the only stubborn person around here.
She walked across the tile and slipped into the water, her nightgown clinging to her frame.
“The water feels good,” she said quietly. “Is it helping your muscles?”
Mitch snapped upright, his hands dragging a towel into the water and covering his lap. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I looked through Perry’s box. I found a receipt, Mitch. For a wine-storage facility.” She couldn’t stop the grin.
Mitch shifted in the water, maneuvering himself so he sat directly opposite her. “Another lead. That’s good.”
She slid around the edge of the water. “Your leg’s giving you trouble?”
“Not really. Just trying to relax.”
“I could help.”
“Emily,” Mitch warned, “I used up most of my self-restraint when I let you go the last time.”
She moved closer and closer, until she was within arm’s length. This time, he didn’t back away. Cautiously, she placed her hands on his right thigh. The muscles rippled beneath her touch. “You’ve saved my life, you’re helping me find my son.”
“It’s my job.”
“Ouch. Okay, if that’s the way we’re going to play it, I’m your therapist. This is my job. Now shut up and let me do this.”
She moved closer, and with small circular movements, Emily worked the muscles, nightgown floating around her. His skin was taut beneath her fingers, his thigh firm and strong, even as she felt the damaged fibers knot and tug in resistance to her ministrations. Gradually, the tensions began to ease a bit. Emily was very aware of every breath Mitch took. Of the way his strong dark hands gripped the edge of the hot tub as if he fought not to reach for her.
Her movements grew slower, then stopped. She took in a deep breath, and Mitch moved, lightning fast, his own breathing shallow and more rapid than before.
Silently, Mitch grabbed the material of her nightgown and slid it back through the water until his hands rested on the wall on either side of her waist, the wet cloth of her gown pressed against her. She looked down and realized the thin material left no covering at all. She was practically nude.
Her heart pounded, and she lifted her gaze to his. His chocolate eyes had gone hooded and black. She could feel the desire pulsing through him. As her hands moved over his thigh, she brushed against the towel in his lap, and unintentionally the hardness beneath it. He sucked in a sharp breath.
“My leg is better, Emily. And if you don’t plan on taking this all the way, you need to leave. Now. I’m not a slave to my anatomy, but even I have my limits, and you just reached them.”
Emily bit her lip. He was giving her a choice. Was she ready? She so wanted to be. She wanted to feel alive again. Could she take a chance? She searched his passion-filled face, full of question, anticipation and desire. “I want—”
Mitch’s phone vibrated on the alcove just left of his shoulder. He groaned. “You have got to be kidding,” Mitch said crossly. He glanced at the screen, then back at her with regret. “This is work. Another case. I have to take it.”
He turned his back and pulled himself out of the water. His back and arm muscles rippled. She averted her gaze, but not before she saw one very toned backside.
He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, though it couldn’t hide his body’s response to her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You’ll never know how much. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Mitch walked away from the hot tub and the temptation that was Emily. He watched as she got up and left, never once looking back. He’d very nearly succumbed to her seduction. She’d wanted him. And yet, he’d resisted. Had he gone completely crazy?
Mitch tapped the mute off button. “If you’re not calling with something important, you’re a dead man, Ian.”
His best friend was silent for a moment. “Guess there’s no point in asking if I can come over and get in some game time while Noah’s away.” He cleared his throat. “I have the girl’s identity. I thought you’d want to know.”
Mitch’s jaw clenched, and he prayed silently. “Who?”
“Vanessa Colby. She ran away from home about seven months ago.”
Mitch let relief wash over him, followed immediately by guilt. “When she found out she was pregnant?”
“Bingo. She wasn’t a street girl. At least not until recently.”
Mitch breathed out a harsh curse. “That fits with what I learned at the shelter. Any idea what killed her?”
“No obvious injuries, though I found one injection site with some bruising. Could indicate a minor struggle. Toxicology’s our last chance to determine cause of death.”
Mitch would bet nothing would come of the testing, either. These people were smart. They tried to make murder look like accidents. But he still couldn’t quite pinpoint the connection to Emily. She broke the pattern. “Still no sign of Vanessa’s baby?”
“Not in the morgue. Unless something’s turned up in your department.”
Mitch paced the poolroom, his body still throbbing with unfilled desire.
“Hey, you okay?”
“Fine,” he said, irritated. “Who do you trust in the police department?”
“Besides you?”
Ian didn’t even seem surprised Mitch was alluding to corruption in the Denver PD. Not a good sign. His friend didn’t speak for a moment. Mitch waited.
Finally, Ian sighed. “Honestly? If you’re wondering about corruption, I’d call your dad.”
“He’s been out since the accident. Three years is too long.”
“When’s the last time you talked to him? He’s not as out of the loop as you think. He came by just last week over my case about a cop’s suicide that didn’t feel right to him. Man, your dad can rip a new one when he gets going.” A pager went off through the phone. “Gotta go. I hate December. Holiday idiots. I’ll call when the tox screens come back, but it’ll be several weeks.”
“Great,” Mitch muttered as the phone went silent. By then, Emily might be dead. He had to figure out what the hell was going on before they could get to her, and keep his pants zipped in the meantime.
Even if it killed him.
Chapter Seven
Mitch’s ringing cell phone jerked him out of a sound sleep. Morning sun tinged with pink flooded through the bedroom shutters. He rubbed his eyes with a groan. No way. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept all night.
“Bradford,” his voice croaked into the phone, hoarse with sleep.
“What do you think you’re doing, Mitchell?”
The barking question cleared the fog. “Dad?”
“Taking off with a person of interest, not checking in while undercover? You trying to get yourself drummed out?”
Mitch groaned and sat up.
“Are you listening to me?”
He forced his mind back to his father’s berating. “Of course.” But Mitch was in no mood to hear a lecture. He could turn the tables just as well as his old man. “Has Tanner been talking to you?”
Paul Bradford was silent for a moment.
Gotcha, Dad.
“I have my sources.” He eased the words out slowly.
That hesitation told Mitch more than his father’s words. “Did your mole tell you I’m investigating not only a dead girl who just gave birth and the missing baby, but also a punk who escaped from custody? I brought him down for trying to kidnap a
pregnant
teenager. He broke out of holding. Can you remember the last time that happened? And more to the point, why wouldn’t Tanner be surprised by it?”
The squeak of his father’s wheelchair sounded through the phone. “Dad, you okay?”
Papers rustled. “Who was guarding him?” His father had gone into cop mode, snapping orders like the sergeant he would always be. Mitch had missed that part of their relationship.
“I don’t have that information.” His mind whirled with possibilities. “I can find out.”
“You do that. Then feed me the name.”
“Just how involved are you?” Mitch started to worry. His dad was a good cop, but he had to accept his physical limitations.
“Keeping my fingers in the pot. Just because my legs don’t work anymore, doesn’t mean my experience isn’t valuable. Even to my son,” Paul snapped.
“I never said—”
“You didn’t ask, either.” His dad’s voice had softened slightly, with just a hint of accusation, and a bit of hurt.
“You’re freelancing.” Mitch realized the new computer equipment in his dad’s office had more purpose than surfing the latest social-networking websites. “With Denver PD?”
“Sometimes.”
“You’ve gone private. Be careful, Dad. The last PI I knew got his head blown off.”
“Perry was a drunk. I’m careful.”
“But you’re not on this case.”
His dad was quiet for a moment. “Not at the moment. Not unless you need my help.”
Mitch didn’t want any of his family anywhere near this case, but if his dad had inside information, he couldn’t afford not to ask. “What do you think of Dane Tanner?”
“Ex-Special Forces. The latest hotshot detective.” Mitch could almost see his dad’s fingers steepling below his chin, as they always did when he considered a question. “Driven. Wants to bring down the criminals. In a bad way.”
“Is he an honest cop? Did his name ever come up in anything…unusual?”
“Not in the way you think.”
“Spill it, Dad. Give me something. If I trust him, and something happens to Emily—”
“She might’ve killed her husband, Mitch. The evidence—”
Mitch slowly did the stretching exercises Emily had prescribed. Easy, slow, not too much pain. “I don’t buy it. She was almost killed twice. Someone’s out to get her, and I’m going to find out who.”
“She’s staying with you.” The disapproval in Dad’s voice came through the phone loud and clear. “Not at your place, I hope.”
“I’m not a fool, but someone broke into her house on my watch. I’m being careful. She has nowhere else to go.” Mitch paused. “She wants her son back.”
“I know that hits you hard, especially after what happened to Ian’s little girl, but—”
“I believe in her.”
His dad sighed. “Okay. I taught you to trust your gut, but remember, we’ve both been screwed. My faith put me in this chair. Your trust of Adam got you shot. We should’ve seen the signs. You keep your eyes and ears open. I’ll be madder than a starving tick if you get yourself killed.”
“Should I go to Tanner?”
“Keep him in the loop. Not enough to put anyone in danger, but enough that if he’s dirty he’ll hang himself. Keep your enemy closer than your ally, Mitch.”
“You talking about Emily or Tanner?”
“Both.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ll contact Tanner.”
Mitch ended the call with a quick tap to the touch screen.
“Why would you communicate with the man who might be trying to kill me?”
Emily’s voice came out of nowhere. She’d cracked open his door and peeked through the opening, a towel around her head and another wrapping her body. She obviously didn’t care she was one tug away from being naked in front of him. Her face was flushed, but he couldn’t tell whether it was from the hot tub, a hot shower or pure anger.