Sex, Lies and Surveillance (12 page)

Now, Mal sat in the plain tan Celica the DeMarcos kept for surveillance outside a nondescript restaurant in Chinatown, while Bennett seduced a twenty-something blonde with an obvious boob job over dim sum.

The guy and his date sat in the front window, the better to be seen by anyone who passed by. Goddamn publicity whore.

Mal had hoped to spot a tail on this creep, find something, anything to wrap this case quickly. He didn’t like the escalating tone of the letters.

But of course, nothing was that easy.

Not Bennett. Not the DeMarcos.

And definitely not Janey.

Last night…

Hell, last night was a fucking mistake of gargantuan proportions. Not only had he not gained any information from Janey that would help with his case, but he’d fallen even more in lust with her.

Yeah, son. You’ve done it up good this time.

“Jeez, Dad, give it a break,” he muttered. Thankfully there was no one around the hear him talk to his dead father.

He didn’t think things could get any worse at that particular moment.

Until Janey walked into the restaurant with Annie.

And everything went to hell.

Mal’s stomach dropped to his toes. Jesus Christ, what were the freaking odds? Had to be at least a hundred to one.

Which didn’t change the fact that she was here.

And, holy Christ, she looked incredible. Dressed in sleek black pants that grazed her hips and a simple red shirt that only barely met the pants, she looked like a goddess.

No wonder she never dressed like that for work. The male clients wouldn’t be able to talk because their tongues would be hanging out of their mouths and the females would go green with envy.

His mouth hung open as he gawked. And since he was pretty sure she hadn’t made him, he let himself stare. Through the restaurant’s plate glass window, he watched her and Annie place their order, watched the waiter fawn all over them. Watched a few other men gawk as well.

They were halfway through their meal when Bennett left his table and made a beeline for Janey and Annie near the back of the restaurant, leaving his date alone at their table.

Shit. Mal was halfway out of the car before he realized he was running across the street, watching the unfolding scene in the window.

Even without sound, he could tell Bennett had a serious jones for Janey. Anyone with half a brain would be able to see it in the way he leaned into her and put his hand on her shoulder.

Mal didn’t see the dark sedan that came out of a side alley until it nearly clipped him. Didn’t give it more than a passing glance as it sped away, never slowing. He ignored it and kept going.

By the time he entered the restaurant, Janey had risen, hands on her curved hips, about to ream Bennett a new asshole from the looks of things.

“No, I don’t think we’ll be joining you for drinks, Mr. Bennett—”

Bennett waved a hand, dismissing her words. “I’m sure you can spare the time. You and your friend…?”

Janey looked ready to slug the man but just as Mal saw her hands clench into fists, she swung her gaze and looked straight at Mal. Her eyes widened in surprise a moment before her mouth tightened into a flat line.

“Hello, Mal,” she said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you tonight, should I?”

Well, shit. If words were blades, he’d be bleeding.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you either.” He’d have to atone for whatever he’d done later. For now he turned to Bennett. “Mr. Bennett.”

The man totally ignored him, his gaze squarely on Janey. “Why don’t we just move into the back room and continue this conversation there?”

As Mal stepped closer to the director, Bennett’s overgrown bodyguard in requisite black, who’d been sitting at another table close to Bennett’s, swelled to fighting size. Shit. Mal stepped right in front of Bennett’s face before the situation got ugly.

“Mr. Bennett, I’m Mal Laughlin. I’ve been assigned to your case from the agency, sir. There’s been a…development I’d like to talk to you about.”

Bennett swung a cutting glare at Mal. It only made Mal want to laugh in the man’s face. Probably wouldn’t be good for the DeMarco reputation.

“I thought Grace was handling my situation,” Bennett snapped.

Mal nodded, keeping his expression bland. “She was. She’s been called away on another case and she asked me to take over.”

The suddenly crafty look in Bennett’s eyes made Mal wonder what the other guy was up to. “You’ve been with the firm for a month now, right?” Bennett turned back to Janey. “Perhaps it would help to have Janey in attendance. She’s well versed in my case, I’m sure.”

Mal resisted the urge to punch the smug bastard in his piggy little nose. “I believe I’ll be able to answer all your questions, Mr. Bennett. Why don’t we go back to your table?”

With a huff, Bennett realized he wasn’t going to win this round. “Fine, but make it quick and let’s talk in the back room. I have other plans for the night.”

Yeah, which he bet the guy’s wife knew nothing about. “After you.” Mal gestured toward the back. Bennett turned and started walking.

Janey reached for his sleeve, drawing his gaze to hers. Her smile was sweet and a little sexy. It made him wary as all hell. “Will you stop back before you leave, Mal? I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’m gonna make sure he gets back to his hotel first.”

“Then why don’t you stop at my house before you go home? We can talk there.”

Mal, idiot that he was, said, “Sure. I’ll see you later.”

***

Bennett was less than pleased to have been interrupted in his pursuit of the blonde and thwarted at his attempt to hit on Janey as well.

Mal bit his tongue to keep his expression clear. And since he really didn’t have anything he wanted to talk to the jerk about, it made for a short meeting in the small room in the back of the restaurant.

After he’d escorted Bennett and his bodyguard to their car, he followed them back to the hotel just to make sure they got there, watching for anything suspicious.

A tail, someone on the street who looked just a little too interested in Bennett’s car. Nothing.

Same for the two hours he sat outside the hotel.

Either the person sending Bennett the threatening notes wasn’t planning to approach the guy or she was biding her time.

Those two hours gave him a lot of time to think.

He’d come to work for the DeMarcos with a single purpose—find a link between them and Carabini. If he didn’t find one…

Then the DeMarco reputation would remain untarnished.

If he did…

Mal had thought he’d be able to weather the shit storm.

But now?

Christ, he couldn’t believe Janey would ever be wrapped up in something underhanded. It just didn’t fit.

Then again, he hadn’t expected Mays to pull a gun. And Dev had paid with his life.

Still, he’d need cold, hard proof before he could convince himself that Janey was, in any way, complicit in Dev’s death.

But he wouldn’t need much to convict the undercover cop, Nabosny.

Carabini had danced around the fact that he’d had help from someone in the Philadelphia police department to smuggle in the guns. Had that been Nabosny?

Dirty or not, the cop was the key to finding out what Janey had to do with Carabini’s guns.

From the hotel, Mal headed back to Janey’s home. It only took him a few minutes. A few minutes where he refused to talk himself out of going. He rang the bell and didn’t have to wait more than thirty seconds before she opened it. Neither of them said a word as she waved him in.

She’d changed into a pair of stretchy black yoga pants that fit her like a second skin and a loose sweatshirt that she’d cut the neck out of. He wanted to finish ripping the material until it fell off her body.

Biting back the lust, he followed her into the living room, where the tension gained weight and teeth, resting on his shoulders and gnawing at his gut.

She didn’t sit, didn’t wave him into a chair. Instead, she stood and faced him. “Did you make any progress in Bennett’s case tonight?”

Sighing, he shook his head. “No. I’m gonna have to spend tomorrow on his ass again, which just totally makes my day.”

Her lips finally curved in something resembling a smile, though it was far from natural. “Sorry to hear that. And…I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. That had nothing to do with you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, the twist of her lips rueful. “I mean that I really don’t like Bennett. But I would’ve been able to handle Bennett. He’s not much different than the pompous asses I deal with from Washington. And I know my mom told you to keep him away from me, which makes me angry at her for continuing to treat me like a child. But I’m not mad at you.”

He couldn’t help it. He grinned because she had Grace dead to rights.

Then she reached up to his cheek with her fingers and heat began to pump through his body.

Damn, he loved when she touched him. “Good to know.”

And he really loved when she moved closer until her lips were only centimeters away his.

“I’m really not mad at you.”

His breath caught in his throat and every question he’d so carefully planned on the way over disappeared the second she put her lips against his and kissed him.

Goddamn, he fucking loved the way she fit against him. How her mouth molded to his and the warmth of her body seeped into his.

His hands fisted at his sides as he tried to let her take the lead, let her kiss him.

Her lips caressed his with a languid sensuality that fired his blood, so hot he couldn’t help himself when his arms curved around her. He pulled her tight against him, against the erection that throbbed and ached. His hands slid down her back to her ass, caressing the firm curves for a brief second before he pressed her closer.

She made a small sound deep in her throat, a moan as she arched into him, her hips thrusting forward to rub her mound against his cock. He responded with a groan, every muscle in his body tightening as he pulled her closer.

Her firm breasts nestled against his chest and her thighs rubbed against his. With one hand on her ass, he let the other sweep upward, over her hips and her side until he could cup one breast in his hand. Damn, he could barely breathe as he kneaded her. Without thinking, he shoved his hand under her shirt to touch the bare skin of her stomach.

Mistake. Big Mistake.

Because once he felt her silk-soft skin against his, he lost the fight against this insanity.

More. He had to have more of her, had to touch more of her.

With one arm around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and strode toward the couch. She gasped into his mouth, freezing for one brief moment before slanting her mouth to kiss him deeper.

Turning, he lowered himself to the cushion until she was the one bending over him.

Her hands cupped his jaw, her fingers gentle, her kiss so not. He felt like she was devouring him. She opened to him when his tongue demanded entrance but she stroked and tempted him to come deeper before she pushed her way into his mouth. One of her hands slid around to his neck, sinking into his hair and scratching her nails against his scalp.

Each scrape sent a shiver of lust through him, his muscles quivering, nerve endings popping with sensation.

She shifted over him, moving until her center was positioned directly over the zipper imprinting on his cock. Lowering herself, she let her body settle as her hips began a subtle rocking motion.

Aw fuck. He shoved both hands under her shirt and splayed them over the warm flesh of her back, content for several seconds just to soak in her heat. But he couldn’t resist for long. His fingers began to stroke along her spine before one slipped to the front to cup her breast.

Lace. She wore a lace bra and it was all he could do not to yank her shirt over her head so he could see it.

Turned out she had the same idea.

Pulling back, she broke their kiss so she could pull her sweatshirt up and off.

Her dark hair spilled around her shoulders and over the pale curves of her breasts. Her bra wasn’t Victoria’s Secret sexy but just the fact that she wore it put it at the top of his list.

He’d been right about the lace, but it was made more like a tank top with tiny little straps it wouldn’t take much to snap. The material was thin and see-through, her dark, puckered nipples showing plainly through the material.

Not waiting for an invitation, he bent to suck one nipple into his mouth, tonguing the tip into an even stiffer peak. Moaning, she arched her back, forcing more of her into his mouth. His teeth closed over her, nipping and making her breath shudder in her chest.

Her hips rolled faster, rubbing against him as he sucked on her nipples with an ever-increasing hunger.

All thought of questioning her dissolved under the need to make her come.

With a rough sound, he twisted until they lay on the couch side by side. His mouth continued to torment her breasts but now he let his hand stroke down her stomach. He thought maybe he could go slow, draw this out.

Fat chance.

He worked his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of her pants and burrowed under the thin layer of silky underwear to find short, trimmed curls and soft, wet heat.

And in the center, that hard little bundle of nerves. He played with her, slow at first, flicking at her clit before letting his fingers sink lower, to the slick lips that made his cock ache.

Her breath caught in her throat as he found the rhythm she liked, the one that caused her breath to hitch and her hands to clutch at him. His entire attention focused on making her explode.

Her mouth latched back on to his and all he could smell and breathe was her. She sucked on his tongue as he worked her, felt her body tense and shake until, finally, she moaned and broke against his fingers.

Her lips slid from his as she buried her face in his neck, her breath soft against his skin.

With a sense of loss, he slid his hand from her pants, fighting the part of him that wanted to strip off her pants and sink deep into her.

He couldn’t do it. This wasn’t why he’d come here.