Intimate Danger (Empire Blue) (12 page)

The neighborhood was dark and quiet, street lamps sat at random intervals, low yellow lighting brushed with minute illumination from above the heavy trees scattered alongside.

When would people learn?

He rolled down his window, tossed the Marlboro, and humid air attempted to creep inside his vehicle. Sweat
dripped along his brow, more from anticipation than the heavy air. He was primed, awakened, and ready. He tapped his foot against the floor, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and craved getting up and stretching his restless legs. The cotton of his t-shirt was almost too rough against his skin, his jeans abrasive on his legs. He ran a leather-covered glove around the collar and pulled the cloth away, welcoming the air-conditioned relief.

Lights flashed down the street, and he slouched in his seat, the soft creak of leather echoing with the melody of crickets outside. The symphony rose in crescendo as the blue Honda pulled into the driveway.

Bingo.

A tall blonde stepped out of her car, legs a mile long wrapped in a black pencil skirt
that gave him a tantalizing glimpse of smooth thighs. His body tensed, and his cock stirred. The tight white camisole encouraged his imagination. The woman, Sheila was her name, from what he’d read on her mail, juggled three bags as the click of her heels ran to the beat of the insect’s song. She disappeared inside her house, and moments later, lights turned on from window to window, before a final one cut through the darkness at the side of the house—her room.

He grinned and turned the car off, stepp
ing outside. The heavy blanket of wet, hot air wrapped its tendrils around him. With bag in hand, he jogged across the street, keeping to the shadows while he crossed the neighbor’s yard. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, but all he could hear, all he focused on was his own breathing as he rounded to the back of her house and approached.

He tried the knob and smiled as it twisted—still unlocked from his earlier visit. With stealth rivaling a silent predator, he slipped inside and crossed the kitchen floor. Soft music rolled in waves down the hallway
leading off from the kitchen, the only light in the room coming from the green glow of the timer on the stove. He moved and rolled his feet with grace, noiseless and lethal.

His boots hit the carpet, and he picked up the pace until he stepped up to her room. The door was ajar and gave him a sliver view
of his treasure undressing. She shimmied out of a camisole, her back and the lower half of her body bare. He grinned and leaned back as she pivoted and walked past where he stood hidden. The shower turned on, and a low hum sounded as the air-conditioner started. He moved, entering the room.

He didn’t stop once he stepped inside
, and instead, dropped the bag at his feet and continued rounding the corner into the bathroom. He marched up behind her. A hand covered her mouth, the other setting the gleam of a blade beneath her neck.

“Don’t move.”

At once fingers wrapped around his wrist and she trembled like the last leaf of fall. Steam filled the air, drifting out from the glass-enclosed shower and wrapping around them like a lover’s caress. He rotated with her, turning them away from the mirror. First, he did not need her to see his face, just in case she recognized him later. Second, the bed had a starring role in his fantasies, next to this beauty. With each step, her enticing rear brushed against his hard cock, and he groaned. Spikes of pleasure pounded already heightened senses.

Terror, the scent of it, emanated
from her skin. It drove his arousal, pushed his fantasy to higher peaks. He wanted the anger, the fight—he wanted her absolute and complete submission. To overpower and use his strength to get what he desired.

For too long he’d hidden his urges. But that was the thing about sexual fantasies, was it not? It could be anyone…and he’d done his best to keep his second life quiet.

Kenny G played on the radio, adding intimacy to the moment. He removed the knife from her throat and palmed the back of her head, pushing until her forehead touched the bed. He bent over her frame and laid his lips to her ear.

“Careful, sweetheart. You follow along, and you will be just fine. You scream, and you will learn the exact meaning of fury. Do you understand?”

She gasped, the sweet sound like Viagra to his system. His dick punched against his zipper, and he grimaced as the metal threatened to tattoo the engorged organ. She nodded and he pressed a kiss to her temple, the light fluttering of lips against smooth, warm skin.

“Good girl. Now, let’s begin.”

****

Hours later, Charlie stood in the middle of the ring watching Dwayne. S
weat rolled in rivulets down her back, causing the cotton of her tank to stick to her body like a wet plastic shopping bag to a milk carton. She eyed Dwayne over her taped knuckles and looked for the flinch of a muscle. Her dad taught her when you’re fighting, do not watch the hands. Instead, focus on their shoulders. A slight twitch would give movement away. Study their eyes, dig deep into body language thrown your way and each time you’ll come out ahead.

Much like interviewing a suspect.

At the reminder of her lack of a suspect, irritation snapped along her spine and she lashed out recklessly, sending a fake left jab before slamming out her right in a cross hook. He ducked, but the blow caught under his chin. His head slammed back. Taking advantage, she hunched and dipped, the burn in her thighs protesting, before powering out. Her fist caught his midsection. He doubled over, and cheers ran out from the sides of the boxing ring. She didn’t pay them any mind and instead stepped back and dropped her gloves as he glanced up from beneath lashes, pain marring his scrunched features. Sweat dripped from his creased eyebrows, and his lip curled in a grimace. Green eyes threw an accusatory question her way, and she sighed, feeling like the world’s biggest ass.

“I’m sorry, Dwayne. I wasn’t thinking.”

He coughed and stood straight. “Damn it, Charlie. I don’t mind you punching me at full strength, but next time you want to use me as your chew toy, give me a heads up.”

She sighed and twisted away, her anger not directed at him but more inward. She had been ten kinds of stupid for what happened with Trent earlier. Ten kinds of stupid, but all in for what he offered, apparently. She had not been thinking with her head, but instead, wanted him between her thighs.

Like a fucking dog in heat. Ugh.

She stepped off the mat
and hopped down as Dwayne held the ropes. He fell in step on their way to the locker rooms. He groaned and rubbed a gloved hand on his midsection.

“You want to tell me what’s got you so riled?” His rumbling question came out a harsh whisper. The clanking of metal, boasting conversations, and rap music playing in the gym refused to cover
her denunciation.

“Nothing,” she snapped, removing the last tape from her hands and tossing the white material in a trash can.
God, stop being such a bitch to him, Lopez.

“Bullshit. It’s either this case or someth
ing got beneath your skin. I think you owe it to me to talk after the ass-whooping I just took for the team. Come on—” He stopped, stepping in front of her and held out his hands. “Help me out of this tape and talk. At least you can do that, after the shot you gave my ego out there.”

She shook her head and gave half a laugh. Dwayne had a way of bringing her out of her funky moods.
Friends since grade school, she still remembered their first meeting, the scared little boy who suddenly moved to Nyack with new parents but with old nightmares haunting him.

“Come here.” She tugged on his hand and moved to a bench outside the locker rooms. Straddling the wood, she sat and he followed. He gave her his hand as they faced each other.

“Look, I don’t really want to get too much into it, but sometimes…” She bit her lip and fought for the right words, half paying attention to unwrapping his hand. “Sometimes, I think I may be more damaged than I thought.”

He shook his head. “Not this again. How many times do I have to tell you
there’s nothing wrong with you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think I can get close to anyone. I have thoughts sometimes like I want to, but
then later, I end up regretting it.”

As she finished with his first hand, he used it to tip her head up with a finger. “What do you mean regret it later? What happened?”

She scanned the room, searching for the right way to relay what she wanted to say, and rolled her eyes. She told him she didn’t want to get into it, but look where she was. “I sorta made out with Trent.”

He arched a brow, lip quirking. “Trent?”

She tossed him a knowing expression. “Yes, Agent Rossi?”

His eyes widened and he gave a sharp nod. “Ah.” He exchanged his hands, and she went to work. “Did you like it?”

She thought back on their time in the conference room. Her body heated, and her stomach pitched off kilter. She let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah. A lot.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Of course you would think there isn’t one. The problem is, now I’m kicking myself. I can’t get involved with another cop.” She tore off the last of the tape and bundled the sticky material into a ball, crunching it over and over again, refusing to meet his stare.

“Hey.”

She glanced up from beneath her lashes and squeezed the ball, hating the helplessness she felt whenever she thought about that night. Dwayne reached out again and tipped her face up so she was forced to meet his eyes.

“It was a fluke accident. The entire situation sucks, but you can’t let what happened to Tony get in the way of the rest of your life.”

Tony, a patrol officer she went through the academy with, had been her first love. He lost his life only two years after being on the force when he stepped out to help what he thought to be a broken down vehicle on I-287. The driver had been waiting for the first person to stop and he unloaded a 9mm clip into Tony’s chest. A gang initiation, they later explained. Tony liked to help people, and in the end, he died because of some stupid gang thing. It made no sense.

“I’m not. It’s just cops. I feel like bad luck surrounds me when it comes to them. Look what happened to my Dad.”

“Jesus, Charlie. It’s the way of our field of work. It’s dangerous. Your dad lived a long life as a cop before he was shot. As much as it’s similar, what happened with Tony could happen to anyone. You cannot close yourself off from the chance at a relationship just because of your fears. Hell, if that was the case, my brothers and I would be living in a hole.”

She scrunched her face, and tossed him a skeptical look. “Since when do you have a right to give relationship advice, Mr. I-change-beds-faster-than-I-change-underwear?”

He flashed a smile, brilliant white against his mocha skin. “I never said I didn’t understand how they worked. I just said they don’t work for me.”

She tossed the wadded ball
of tape into a trashcan about ten feet away. It rolled along the lip before dropping inside.

“It’s good!” She lifted her hands and grinned, then stood. Dwayne followed and stopped her before they parted for the locker rooms.

“Listen to what I said, Charlie. It’d be a real shame if you passed up something good.”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you. I’ll think about it. Hey…” She wiggled her brows and started walking backward. “Who knows, I may just take your advice and give cops a chance. Who better to break me in than your brothers? A
Gonzalez sandwich sounds tasty.”

He snorted and shook his head, laughing.
“Trust me, the last group you want to get involved with are my brothers.”

She winked, turned away and headed into the room.
A shrill ring came from her locker and she rushed over, quickly tapping in her combination before yanking the door open. She flipped open her phone. “Yeah.”

“Charlie.” Woolsey’s voice and following sigh spoke a thousand words.

She closed her eyes and leaned against the metal door. The coolness did nothing to rouse the exhaustion plaguing her soul. “How bad?”

“Bad. Head ove
r to Hudson Avenue, right off Broadway. You can’t miss it.”

“Christ, Chief. We gotta get this guy before he gets worse.”

“Too late. I’m heading over now, so I’ll meet you there. How long will it take you?”

She eyed the showers, but dismissed it when he spoke again.

“She was raped. I need you on this.” His voice quiet, sounding as tired as she felt. It contained a vulnerability she hadn’t heard in years. Not since her dad died.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“Okay, see you then.” The line went dead, and her gut clenched into a hard knot.

“Damn it.”

She changed quickly, swiped deodorant under her arms, wiped her face, and redid her ponytail before heading out of the gym and to the address Woolsey texted her.

Pulling up to the scene, she parked and got out of her car before flashing her badge at the scene entry control officer.

Trent was walking across the yard from the other direction, changed his direction to match her diagonally as he met her halfway across the grass. He turned and looked over his shoulder, his brows drawn down in a frown before he faced with her again.