InTooDeep (4 page)

Hunt watched her until she was almost out
of sight and then he called her name, at least the only one he knew. When she
stopped, he jogged halfway to her. “Don’t count on my agreeing to help.”

“Don’t count on my giving up.”

He didn’t stop her when she walked away
from him this time. Standing in the middle of White Point Gardens, he thought
of all the reasons why he shouldn’t have let her walk away. Things like his
sworn duty to uphold the law. He should have arrested her, taken her in to the
station and booked her.

Instead he already knew what his answer
would be when she called him tomorrow morning. He’d help her find her sister,
if for no other reason than to find out more about her.

If Carley thought he was good at finding
people, she had no idea how good he was at discovering the truth about them.

The ringing of the phone made Franklin
jump, and he cursed. When had he gotten so damn jittery? His hand shook when he
silenced the annoying sound with a press of a button. He didn’t have time to
talk to anyone now.

Sweat popped out on his forehead and he
slumped into the chair behind his desk. What in the hell had gone wrong? It was
supposed to be a simple pickup. His two guys had done it hundreds of times
before, but this time had been different. The blonde had been different.

Franklin dropped his head to his desk,
thankful only a small skeleton crew worked the station after midnight. He could
be alone, away from everyone, including Rena.

He’d promised her everything would be okay,
but things weren’t even in the same room with okay. In his research he’d
discovered something Rena wasn’t going to like, which meant he was going to pay
for her displeasure.

Their latest take had more than just
family. She had a whole shitload of trouble.

One hand skittered across the manila folder
holding all the pertinent information about the blonde. Why in the hell hadn’t
his guys been paying better attention? They said they’d followed her, had seen
no evidence of family in the area, but that hadn’t made a damn bit of
difference once Franklin had discovered the woman’s real identity.

Who knew a schoolteacher would be living
under an assumed identity and that her father had been one of the most elusive
thieves in the twentieth century? The son of a bitch had died without ever
spending one night behind bars. That should have been the end to Franklin’s problems…except
the schoolteacher’s sister had taken over the family business. And from what
little information he could gather about her, she took her job quite seriously.
Almost as seriously as she took her family.

The sisters were close, as evidenced by their
phone records. No wonder the bitch had come looking for the little blonde. And
this thief had followed in her father’s footsteps when it came to the law. Now
he was left trying to figure out how he was supposed to catch a thief who had
never been caught.

He’d have to fix this. Take care of the
situation. The thought nauseated him. If there was one thing he’d never done,
it was murder. But he didn’t see any other solution. Now that the possibility
stared him in the face he could only think of the blonde chained inside the
warehouse, the blonde who didn’t know she had only a few hours left to live.

“Brandon.” Hunt snapped his name into the
cell, more annoyed with his lack of control than the caller. His muscles had
been stretched taut since Carley had left and not even a walk around the
gardens had helped.

And that scent. Damn. It still lingered in
the air, clung to his skin.

“We got a hit off those fingerprints.”
Dave’s voice finally registered.

“What?” He rubbed one hand over his face,
heard the rasp of the five o’clock shadow.

“The fingerprints on Mrs. Buttle’s door—we
got a hit off of them. Actually, we got a couple of hits, but one was a Meals
on Wheels guy whose alibi is rock-solid. The other set, however, that’s someone
you’re gonna want to talk to.”

What Hunt really wanted to do was forget
the case for the evening and find Carley. He needed to—

“Name’s Morgan. Carley Morgan, and in case
you don’t recognize the name, she’s on Interpol’s list of most wanted. High-end
thief, specializing in artwork, mainly. Her sister’s Mrs. Buttle’s neighbor.”

Hunt lost track of everything Dave said
after the mention of Carley’s name. It could be just a coincidence. There were
other women named Carley. Granted, it wasn’t that common of a name but still…

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I’m just… No. I’m not.” He blew out
a breath and leaned against the hood of his car. “The woman who broke into my
house. Her first name’s Carley.”

“Oh shit,” Dave mumbled. “Well I don’t have
a last known address so we don’t have a door to go knock down.”

“I know how to get in touch with her.”

“Figures. Okay. I can meet you in twenty.
There’s nothing in her background to indicate she’s a killer but she might have
been the last one to see Mrs. Buttle alive. So going alone isn’t a good idea.”

“Actually, it’s the best way.” He hung up
before Dave could say anything else.

Oh yeah. He’d find Carley all right, but
she wouldn’t like it when he did.

Chapter Four

The knock startled her and Carley leaped to
her feet, the glass of Chardonnay dropping from her hand. A fist pounded on the
door again just as the grandfather clock chimed 2 a.m. She cursed as the liquid
spread across the light beige carpeting.

“Carley, it’s Detective Brandon.” He beat
the wood again, this time much more loudly.

Her heart stopped momentarily. How had he
found her? It wasn’t possible. She’d covered her tracks too well. Her mind spun
even as she walked to the door. “I heard the first knock.” She turned the lock
and twisted the doorknob as she spoke, and when the door swung open Hunt filled
the entranceway, his broad shoulders touching each side of the frame.

He didn’t immediately speak but the look on
his face spoke volumes. Anger filled the depths of his eyes and his jaw was
clenched so tightly a muscle throbbed.

She watched him for a long moment,
observing the set of his shoulders and the tension in his hand as it held on to
the doorframe. And mentally calculated what she should say next.

“I believe I said I’d call you.” The
comment wasn’t really necessary but it was better than silence. And considering
the sight of Brandon in her doorway had taken her breath away, she thought she
was damn lucky she’d been able to force any words past her tight throat.

“Yeah, I heard.” He walked into the suite,
one eyebrow rising at the elegant quarters. “Not one to skimp on luxury, are
you, Carley? Or would you prefer that I call you Ms. Morgan?”

The question kicked her heartbeat into
overdrive. She’d used her cover name since she’d arrived in Charleston, so his
knowledge of her real identity caused the muscles in the back of her neck to
tighten. But she’d always been one to land on her feet so now that he knew who
she was, she’d just have to use that to her advantage a bit earlier than she
would have liked.

She pushed the door shut and turned to face
him. “At this point it doesn’t really matter.”

Hunt spun around. “Give me one good reason
why I shouldn’t haul your ass in tonight, and since you’re a damn career
criminal, suspected in a stream of high-end robberies up and down the east
coast, whatever you give me had better be good.”

She ignored the request, choosing instead
to focus on what was most important. “How did you find me?”

“Since I’m the one with the badge, I’ll be
asking the questions.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter who I am. I came
to you because my contacts said I could trust you. That was all that was
important to me, not your badge.”

“Stop.” The one word, laced with an
undercurrent of fury, stabbed the air. Before she could respond Hunt held up
one hand. “No more games. No more lies.”

“I’m not lying about my sister.”

“Why should I believe you? You’re a common
thief, living the high life out of other people’s pockets. Do you really think
anything you can say or do is going to convince me to trust you enough to help
you?”

Holding on to her control by a thin thread,
Carley walked closer to him, stopping several inches inside his personal space.
“You don’t have to trust me. You don’t even have to like me, but you’ll help me
because that’s who you are.” She could only pray her voice sounded more
determined than she felt.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Why
didn’t you just tell me the truth from the start?”

“Oh and I’m sure you’d have listened to me
the second I told you who I was.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat
that sounded like irritation. “And you think it’s going to help matters now
that I know? Cops don’t make a habit of trusting thieves, Carley. Must have
something to do with the criminal aspect.”

Carley’s hands clenched into fists. “You
can call me whatever you want to call me but I need to make sure that my sister
is safe before I leave. So was I right? Are you going to help me?”

“You can’t be seriously thinking I’m going
to put my career on the line. My partner knows about you. If I walk out of this
room without arresting you I’ve just set myself up for an IA investigation.
I’ll pass.” Reaching behind him, he extracted a set of handcuffs.

She took a step backward, eyeing the
bracelets like they were acidic. She’d expected resistance but this was taking
things a bit too far. If Hunt wouldn’t help her then she’d have to figure out
another way. She couldn’t do that behind bars.

“There’s no way out, Carley.” Hunt read her
mind, flicking a glance toward the door. “But if you think you can make it
there before I can, give it a shot.” He transferred his gaze to her face then
caressed her body with a long, slow look. “I might even enjoy the challenge.”

The response gave her pause. She’d never
liked limited options. Time for some recon. “You don’t really want to arrest
me, Hunt. You and I both know that.”

He dangled the handcuffs from the tip of
his index finger. “It’s okay by me if you want to kill some time.”

She wanted to hit him like she had the
first night she’d met him. This time she’d probably enjoy it more. “If all I
wanted was to kill time, I could think of more pleasant ways to do it.” Tipping
her head to one side, she studied him with a long look of her own that did its
job. Hunt shifted from one foot to the other and she resisted the urge to
smile.

A muscle in his jaw twitched but otherwise
he showed no outward expression. “Why are you really here, Carley? Is there
some big score? You got a job to do? Let me guess. Some rich bastard has a
Monet coming and you’re here to make sure your client gets it instead. How did
I do?”

Her eyes flashed, her temper beginning a
slow boil. She wasn’t used to being interrogated. It wasn’t a feeling she cared
for. Regardless of what Hunt Brandon thought of her, she was far more than just
a common criminal. She was an artist, one who took great pride in her work and,
while illegal, it never harmed the innocent.

“Go to hell.” She jerked her head toward
the door. “I believe it’s that way.”

In two strides he stood before her, not
touching her, just staring down at her from his height advantage. He leaned in
and the warm aroma of aftershave engulfed her, momentarily distracting her.

“I’ll go, but I’m taking you with me.”

Her heart began to pump wildly in time with
her temper. Control slipped another notch then faded from her grasp completely
when cold steel circled her wrist. She tried to pull away but Hunt was too
fast, already tugging the other arm behind her back as well.

“Hunt, don’t do this.” She’d known she was
taking a risk when she approached him but her contact had assured her he was
fair, that he wouldn’t judge her in spite of his career.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Faron gave me your name.” She used the
only ace in the hole she had—the name of her contact.

Still holding her wrist, Hunt stepped back
to see her face. “How do you know Faron?”

“He works with me.”

“You’re lying. Faron’s not a thief.”

“No, but he’s one hell of a technology
wizard. How do you think I broke into the Metropolitan Museum of Art without
getting caught? He knows more about computers than Bill Gates ever will. If you
don’t believe me, call him. His number’s in my cell.”

“I know his fucking number,” Hunt snapped,
his eyes blazing. “He was my father’s best friend.”

“I know.” She hadn’t wanted to tell him,
had promised Faron she wouldn’t but she’d run out of options.

Hunt dropped her wrist. “Why would he give
you my name?”

“Because he knew I needed someone I could
trust if my sister was in trouble.”

“You don’t even know if she is. So why take
the chance? Why come to a cop for help when you know you could be risking your
own freedom?”

“I’d risk anything for Dani.”

His index finger touched her chin, lifted
it so he could look into her eyes. “You’re serious.” His deep voice carried
only the barest hint of disbelief.

She tipped her head back, challenging him
with her gaze. “Even thieves can love. Now will you help me?”

He continued to study her for a long
moment, his gaze never wavering off hers. “Yes.”

His response took her aback. She’d expected
more questions, more indecision, but one look at Hunt’s face told her he was as
serious as she.

She wasn’t sure the exact moment his
expression changed and lust flared into his eyes but the second it happened her
breath stalled in her lungs. His gaze dropped to her lips and she licked them,
wiping away the dryness. Her blood pounded in her ears as he closed the
remaining inches of space between them. “Should we shake on it?” His fingers
curled around the nape of her neck.

She shivered and mentally cursed at what
she considered to be a sign of weakness. “I trust you.”

“I imagine you would have to since your
choices are limited.”

Her palms pressed against his chest.
“Actually, I have a list of others who are just as good at finding someone as
you are.” The lie slipped easily from her lips and Hunt responded with a quick
laugh.

“I doubt it.”

A spark of lightning danced in the air,
electric and captivating. Desire sparked and lingered. Carley forgot to
breathe, and as his hand stroked the side of her face her stomach knotted.
Leaning in, he grazed her chin with his teeth and a quicksilver shiver tore
down her spine.

Why couldn’t she back away from him or push
him away? Her body gravitated toward his, eating up the small span of distance
that had remained between them.

Now they stood body to body, his chest
brushing her breasts. Their breaths mingled, colliding in the air as their
hearts thumped out identical rhythms.

“We should talk. You need to know about
Dani, oh, and about Scott. She’s dating a guy named Scott.” Was that
desperation she heard in her voice? Damn him. No man had ever unnerved her like
this.

“Let’s get one thing straight first.”

She wondered how his lips tasted. “What’s
that?” Was that her own breath coming so fast?

One of his arms slipped around her waist,
drawing her even tighter in. “We do things my way.” His lips captured hers,
bruising, unyielding. Pure, sensual magic. And just as quickly as it began, it
was over. He lifted his head, pierced her with a hard stare. “That means
everything by the book.”

Carley’s lips tingled. “I get it. No
felonies.”

The look he gave her told her he didn’t
appreciate her humor. “That wasn’t a joke.” He extracted his cell phone from
the pocket of his jacket just as it rang. His gaze centered on the number
before zeroing in on her face. “Dammit. I forgot.” He silenced the call.

“Forgot what?”

“The reason I came looking for you. You
might have been the last person to see our victim alive.”

Victim. The word made Carley sick inside.
“What are you talking about? Who did I see?”

“Her name was Maggie Buttle.”

Carley’s knees went weak and she backed up
until her spine connected with the wall. “Mrs. Buttle’s dead? Oh my God. She’s
dead because of my sister.”