“What were you saying about no excitement?” he said with a small laugh.
“Oh man, all of the local news stations are here!” She peered farther over the edge. “
Holy crap
. CNN is here!” Harper stifled a groan. “And MSNBC, and Fox News.”
The door to the roof burst open, and a wave of federal and local law enforcement spilled out onto the roof. Curt Monroe led the charge, gun drawn and hyperalert. “You’re going back to that hotel,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Harper. “And you”—he jabbed a finger at Galen—“aren’t letting her out of your sight. Do you understand me? I’ll get your statement later tonight.”
Harper exchanged a look with Galen. It would be tough to endure, but they’d get through their time at the hotel somehow. “Yes, sir,” Galen answered.
“We’ll finish up with your suspect and get him into custody. There’s a media circus forming down there all waiting to get a piece of Harper. I think you’d better go.” If she didn’t know better, Harper would have thought Curt was trying to keep them away from Agent Davis, who was fighting the crowd of cops as he made his way toward them. But of course, Curt would never do anything to thwart an FBI agent. She smiled at him and he gave her an exasperated look. “Well, get out of here!”
Harper didn’t need to be told twice. She let Galen lead the way. She’d follow him anywhere.
Gladly.
Harper lay next to Galen, her body entwined with his. One hot shower and a full-body massage—followed by some erotic play—later and Harper was almost at one hundred percent. It was a wonder either of them had the energy for anything more than a sponge bath and a nap after what they’d been through. But Harper was learning very quickly that she’d have to be dead and buried before she ever got enough of Galen Kelly. Maybe not even then. His breath stirred the hairs at her temple and goose bumps sprung up on her skin. “That tickles.”
He nuzzled below her ear, careful not to touch her bruised face. A paramedic had checked them both out when they got back to the hotel. She didn’t need stitches for the cut on her cheek. She’d be sore for a few days, but thankfully nothing was broken.
“I’ll go with you into the interview room tomorrow. I won’t let Davis bully you again.”
She wasn’t exactly looking forward to another round with the arrogant FBI agent, but she wouldn’t get Galen involved in it, either. “It’s okay. Remember the attorney I spoke with a few days ago? She’s going to go with me. Agent Davis won’t get too lippy with a lawsuit hanging over his head.”
“Either way, I’m here for you.”
“I know you are,” Harper replied through a yawn. “And I’m glad. Thank you.” She wiggled in closer until her back was flush with the hard planes of his chest. The heat of his body was a soothing balm. One that Harper craved like a drug. He reached around and cupped her breast in his palm, his thumb feathering over her nipple, and Harper sucked in a sharp breath.
“I love you, Harper,” he whispered in her ear. “I think I loved you from the second I laid eyes on you.”
She reached around and cupped the back of his thigh as his hand left her breast and wandered down her body to the juncture between her legs. Her throat was still raw, but it didn’t stop the low moan that escaped when he stroked her slick center. “I love you too,” she said. “I love you more than I ever thought I could.”
He rolled her over on her back and settled himself between her thighs. Their eyes met and the emotion that passed between them didn’t need words to be expressed. He was her friend, her lover, her hero. Everything she ever wanted and more.
“
Je t’aime.
” The words slipped from Galen’s lips as he entered her and Harper cried out, arching into him.
“What does that mean?” she breathed.
“It sounds better in French.” He pulled out and thrust slowly in again. Teasing her, the way she liked.
“Tell me.”
“It means, I love you.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust deep inside of her. Tomorrow they’d have to face reality once again. But tonight it was just her and him, and she wasn’t about to waste a single second.
“It is pretty in French.” She ground her hips against him. “But if you learn to say it in Klingon, that’ll really be something.”
He laughed before his mouth claimed hers in a hungry kiss. “I’ll get on that first thing in the morning,” he said as he pulled away.
“Or better yet,” Harper teased, “Elvish. Like Tolkien.”
“Harper,” Galen murmured against her throat. “Be quiet.”
She used her ankles to pull him deep inside of her. “I’m a reporter. It’s in my nature to be wordy.”
He rolled her on top of him and bucked his hips to thrust deeper. God, he was too good for words. “Did I ever tell you I have a thing for journalism majors?”
“I do recall something about that. But tell me again. And be thorough.”
He rose up and flicked his tongue across her nipple. “Oh, if there’s one thing I am,” he murmured against her skin, “it’s thorough.”
Oh, man, did she ever love his attention to detail.
Keep reading for
an excerpt from the next book in
the U.S. Marshals series,
ONE KISS MORE
,
coming in Winter, 2015
from
Mandy Baxter
and
Kensington Books!
Landon could think of a thousand things he’d rather be doing right now. Skydiving, BASE jumping, climbing to the top of Mount Hood would be nice. When did the running of the bulls begin, anyway? Law enforcement was supposed to be an exciting, adrenaline-infused career. Maybe he should have applied for the SOG program when he’d had a chance. Of course, knowing his luck, he’d get an assignment like his friend Galen had snagged: babysitter to some foreign dignitary for a year. Prestigious? Maybe. But Landon wasn’t interested in recognition or prestige. He was in it for the action. Which was why, as he pulled up to the swanky Aspira building in downtown Seattle, he wished he was jumping out of a plane, thousands of feet from the ground. He hadn’t felt an exhilarating rush of any kind for a long goddamned time. And just like any addict, he was itching for a fix.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. After a few rings, Galen answered and the fucker had the nerve to sound upbeat. “Hey, man. Did you see me on
Piers Morgan
last night?”
Galen had recently come off a case that had landed him not only in the media spotlight, but in bed with the woman he’d been assigned to protect. Lucky bastard. “Yeah. And you know what? It’s true what they say about the camera adding ten pounds. You might want to think about hitting the gym.”
“Jealous much?”
“Please,” Landon scoffed. “I’ve got nothing to be jealous about. You go ahead and be the poster boy for the Marshals Service while the rest of us go out and get shit done.”
Galen’s laughter rumbled through the receiver. Playful hostility was what Landon appreciated most about their friendship. Galen deserved his accolades, though. He was damn good at his job. “Have you questioned Ruiz’s daughter yet?”
The consummate professional, Galen would forgo the banter for work talk any day of the week and as always, Landon was on the same page. “On my way up to her condo now,” he said as he flashed his badge to the parking attendant at the underground garage. He pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to get directions to the public parking and pulled through the levered gate. “I doubt she’s going to be cooperative, though.”
“Who’s your contact there?”
Technically, the Ruiz case was in the Portland division’s jurisdiction, but since Ruiz’s daughter lived in Seattle, the investigation had become an inter-regional effort. “Ethan Morgan,” Landon replied as he hit the key fob with his thumb and locked his black Chevy Tahoe. He pivoted on a heel as he searched out the elevators and found a bank of silver doors on the far left wall. “I’m meeting him at the office later, but I thought I’d get a jump on Emma first.”
Galen was silent for a moment and Landon could almost picture the shit-eating grin on his face. “Get a jump on her, huh?”
“Unlike you, I’m a professional,” Landon remarked, as he stepped inside the elevator and hit the button for the fifteenth floor.
“Touché,” Galen replied.
“Dude, the French,” Landon said with a snort. “So not manly. Later.”
Galen’s answering laughter was the last thing Landon heard as he ended the call. For the past few days, he’d been staking out Emma Ruiz’s building and tracking her every move in the hopes that she’d lead them to her father. But the only thing he’d learned so far in his time on this assignment was that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Emma was still a hardcore party girl. She still hung out with pro athletes and rich playboys and lived her life as publicly as she dared, as though she invited the media attention and gossipmongers while simultaneously not giving a shit about any of it.
The Ruiz case had been high profile six years ago when they’d conducted their investigation into the federal judge’s dealings with Mendleson Corp. Once one of the country’s shrewdest and most successful attorneys, Ruiz, the consummate legal hero who defended the little guy, had landed a federal judgeship in Oregon after retiring from a firm that dealt primarily in environmental safety and wrongful death suits. His judgeship had taken a nosedive when his dealings with Mendleson had been scrutinized. The U.S. Marshals had gotten involved after he’d dismissed what should have been an open-and-shut FTC trade violation case against the multinational corporation. Through an anonymous tip, the feds had been alerted that Ruiz was extorting money from Mendleson, and the CEO had admitted to paying the judge in exchange for a favorable ruling in their case.
Emma had been a staunch supporter of her father, declaring his innocence on several national news programs as well as
E! News
and
US Weekly
. A first-class celebutante, Emma was often categorized as famous for being famous, or whatever it was the gossip rags said about overprivileged daddy’s girls like her. She had often been whispered about in the Portland office when they’d investigated Javier six years ago. At eighteen, she had already been on the road to stop-your-heart gorgeous and had a reputation for playing fast and loose with several pro athletes. She’d had a mouth on her, not to mention a penchant for fucking with anyone who fucked with her dad. During the course of the Marshals Service’s investigation, she’d made it her life’s ambition to cause any deputy involved in bringing dear old daddy down a world of hurt. Landon’s team had been on the receiving end of several of her malicious pranks, including the old potato-in-the-tailpipe routine. That shit wasn’t urban legend, and the blowback from the exhaust had damned near asphyxiated him. Not the best experience for a rookie on his first case.
Watching her over the past couple of weeks had stirred up all sorts of memories. One of those being the euphoric rush he experienced every time he laid eyes on her. Landon couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t usually the sort of guy who got twisted up at the sight of a pretty girl. But Emma was different. Her presence triggered something primal in his subconscious. And that instant, gut-clenching reaction bothered the shit out of him. So, yeah, he wasn’t exactly enthused about paying a visit to the now twenty-four-year-old Emma, and grilling her about daddy’s whereabouts while he tried not to fall under her spell yet again. Landon was certain that no matter what, Emma was going to give him a run for his money. Paybacks were a bitch.
Emma Ruiz hung up the phone and stared off into space as she tried to collect her thoughts. One of the benefits of living in a building with top-notch security was getting a heads-up from the front desk that a deputy U.S. Marshal was about to pay her a visit. Not that she hadn’t been expecting it.
She cast a furtive glance toward her closed bedroom door as a riot of butterflies took flight in her stomach and fluttered toward her throat. Everything was happening so fast and she needed to play her A-game right now. The key to a good offense was a strong defense. Any sports fan worth her salt realized that. And Emma knew that if she wanted the ball to be in her court with the Marshals Service, she needed to make sure they were off their game. She looked down the length of her purple tank top, black yoga pants, and bare feet. Not exactly an outfit that screamed
I’m in charge!
And whereas she’d hoped never to go toe to toe with those self-righteous do-gooders again, she guessed she’d just have to suck it up and face the music. At least the next few weeks wouldn’t be boring.
When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Emma took a deep breath and held it in her lungs before expelling it all in a rush. The cops weren’t as scary as they liked to come off. Emma wasn’t easily intimidated, and besides, she’d done this dance with them six years ago. If she could handle their pushy bullshit then, she could certainly handle it now. She could do this.
A round of obnoxious knocks followed on the heels of the bell, and Emma rolled her eyes as she walked to the door. God forbid she keeps the U.S. Marshals waiting. After all, they had a dangerous criminal to find and apprehend. She snorted. They were all a bunch of idiots if they thought that Javier Ruiz was a criminal mastermind. They were all so ready to believe he’d orchestrated the perfect escape and were itching to get one up on him. And of course, none of them knew how far off base they were.
Emma plastered what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face to mask the apprehension creeping up on her and swung the door open. The smile faded in an instant and her stomach did a twisting backflip that kicked out at her lungs on the dismount, leaving her breathless and a little stunned.
Great
. They would send the guy who’d arrested her dad in the first place, wouldn’t they? The one guy who’d get under her skin. Emma clenched her fists at her sides as she wondered how much time she’d get for socking a U.S. Marshal in the jaw.
“Deputy McCabe,” she said, infusing her voice with innocence. “What a surprise. By all means,
don’t
come in.”
The bastard had the nerve to smirk.
“Obviously you know why I’m here,” McCabe said. “So tell me where Javier is and I’ll be on my way.”
Emma relaxed against the doorknob, shifting her weight so that her braced arm supported her. It took a lot of effort to look so calm while her knuckles turned white as her fingers clenched the knob. Coming face-to-face with Landon McCabe again was like stepping back into time. He was technically the enemy, but even after all this time Emma couldn’t deny his appeal. His voice tumbled over her like a cascade of warm water, relaxing the tight knot that had settled in her chest. His blond hair was almost too short, but Emma was willing to bet she could still tangle her fingers in its length. And his eyes . . . keen and bright blue with a warm spark that ignited something low in her stomach. Her brow puckered as she realized his presence had become even more commanding, his face even more handsome with the passage of years. Totally not fair.
“Why ask me?” She made sure her voice was devoid of any emotion. “When Dad was remanded into the
care
of the U.S. government, I was sort of under the impression that you’d be keeping an eye on him. It’s not my fault you guys suck at your jobs.”
“Come on, Emma. I’m not in the mood to play games.”
Emma saw an opportunity not only to intercept Deputy McCabe’s innuendo, but to deflect his questioning with her own distraction while she ran in for the touchdown. “That’s too bad, Deputy. I love to play. Maybe later? You can be shirts and I’ll be skins.”
McCabe’s jaw tensed, and it gave Emma a perverse sense of satisfaction to have rattled the cocky deputy’s chain. The quicker she could get him out of here, the better.
“Don’t say I didn’t try to make this easy on you.” His voice hardened and lowered an octave, causing a pleasant chill to race down Emma’s spine. “You’d better clear your schedule for the rest of the day,
Miss
Ruiz. A pair of deputies will be along in an hour or so to escort you to the federal building for questioning.”
Yeah, well, Emma could be hard, too. “What’s the matter, McCabe? Not man enough to cuff me yourself ?”
He took a step back from her doorway as though tempted to do just that. He looked down the length of her body, and though she assumed it was meant to be disdainful, a thrill rushed through Emma’s veins. “Just be ready to cooperate,” he said. “Otherwise, I won’t hesitate to issue a warrant for your arrest.”
Without allowing her to respond, McCabe turned on a heel and sauntered down the hallway toward the elevator. Emma couldn’t help it, she leaned out of the doorway to watch him leave, appreciative of the way his designer jeans hugged his ass. Boy was tight. His shoulders rolled as he walked, the precision and grace of every placed step a thing of beauty. Deputy U.S. Marshal Landon McCabe was still the enemy. He was the one who’d arrested her father and the man who was looking to do it again. But, damn, was he ever something to look at.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Emma bristled at the sound of the voice behind her. A chill that was nothing like what she felt in Landon’s presence chased over her skin and she rubbed at her arms to banish the goose bumps that rose up there. “I told you, you have nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, I know,
chica
. I only wanted to be sure you could play your part. Now that I know you can, I’ll leave you alone. For now.”
Emma tried to slow the racing of her heart with a few deep breaths. All of this was her fault. If she’d stayed out of trouble like her dad asked her to, he’d be okay and getting the care he needed right now. “I know what’s expected of me,” Emma said, still refusing to turn and face the man speaking to her. She just wanted him to get the hell out of her condo.
“Good. That’s good.” His low voice snaked around her, dark and dangerous, squeezing the air from her lungs. “I’ll be in touch.”
Emma closed her eyes as he walked past her through the door. His body brushed against hers and she cringed as she inched away. She waited until the sounds of his footsteps disappeared down the hallway before she closed the door with shaking hands. Her mind raced as adrenaline seeped into her bloodstream, making it difficult to focus. Landon McCabe’s appearance in Seattle was going to be a problem. And she hoped that his interference in her life wouldn’t get him killed.