Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) (6 page)

Sparks flew from her eyes. “I’m calm.”

“Like hell.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“That’s the point.” He ground his right elbow into the soft skin of her arm, and pressed more of his body weight into her.
Hell
. She was no longer a woman who had pointed a gun at him, no longer a person with information he needed. She was nothing but a gorgeous, fiery woman, and dammit, he was on top of her. His body reacted to her full, lush breasts and good God, she was a perfect fit under him. He grit his teeth, as his dormant-since-July libido returned with a mind-numbing rush.

“You should have thought that you might get hurt before you pointed your gun at me,” he gritted out, fighting to regain control of himself.

Skye wasn’t his type, he reminded himself, though the reasons why suddenly weren’t so important, because his body was reacting as though it had found the perfect match. One part of his brain, thank God, reminded him that he’d never been the kind of man who got turned on by manhandling a woman, who so clearly wasn’t enjoying it.

Fuck me to hell.

“I’ll scream.”

“Don’t care,” he said, “and screaming will only guarantee that anyone who comes to your rescue will know exactly who you are. Dammit. I said that I wanted to talk to you. I’m not here to hurt you, at least I wasn’t, until you pulled your weapon out.”

“You,” she gasped for air, “you made sure that I saw yours.”

“What?”

“Downstairs.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He hadn’t shown his weapon to her. At least not intentionally, but he was used to working in situations where weapons were worn to be seen as a warning to stay the fuck away. Compared to some of the firepower that he typically strapped on himself, the Glock that he wore on this day was innocuous.

Dammit.

He never thought that he’d feel more comfortable in Middle Eastern war zones than in the United States, but there he fucking was, a foreigner in his own country and unintentionally scaring a woman with a weapon, when he needed her cooperation.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasped, “really.”

He could breathe, though, and it sucked, because he inhaled her light perfume, or maybe it was just vanilla from all of those damn muffins they were baking, and it didn’t matter what the scent was. It lit him up like a sixteen-year-old virgin, because she was long-limbed and lean, yet soft where it mattered, and thanks to that photo he even knew what her goddamn nipples looked like.

He could feel her heart beating beneath him. If he really liked a woman, and that hadn’t happened in a long time, Sebastian loved to feel a woman’s pulse points, loved to focus on her heartbeats as he made love to her. There was no focusing on the pulse of this heart, though, because Skye’s labored breathing reminded him that she wasn’t enjoying the moment, and her heart wasn’t just beating, it was racing. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, right at her hairline. To the extent that she was breathing, it was shallow and labored. Either she was putting on a damn good act, or he’d done enough to scare the hell out of her.

He lifted himself into plank position, with his weight on his forearms and toes. He kept her pinned, but stopped trying to press the breath out of her. The new position brought Sebastian some mental relief and allowed her to draw a few deep breaths. Plus, the space between them meant that he didn’t have to worry she’d feel his hard on. He was thrilled at his erection, because he hadn’t had one since July.

He doubted she’d have the same reaction.

“Now that I have your attention, Miss Barrows, like I said, I’m a private security contractor. I’m working with marshals who are looking for your father. And just so we’re crystal clear, I know without doubt you are Richard Barrows’ daughter and he didn’t die three years ago, so ditch the pretense. Now,” he said, his eyes locked on her, his face just three inches away from hers as he studied her, “where’s your father, and don’t waste time with bullshit.”

“As far as I know, prison,” she said with a narrow-eyed glare. Yes. She was pissed. But her anger didn’t mask her fear. Follow that scent, he told himself, of vanilla-spiced sweet perspiration and scared-to-death fear. “Dumb-ass. You’re a private security contractor? What does that mean?”

“My company is Black Raven. We’re investigating-”

“Well, you need to do a bit more investigating-”

“Don’t play stupid,” he said, admiring her ability to be cocky when he had the upper hand. “Where is he?”

She gave him a puzzled, worried stare. “He’s been incarcerated for a year. He has another year on his term. You aren’t much of a private investigator if you don’t know that.”

He gave her a slow headshake. He liked women with a stubborn streak, who wouldn’t cower when life hit hardballs at them, but this game had to end. “His remaining year grew to seven when he decided to escape four days ago.”

She gasped. Wide, searching gray-green eyes studied him. He detected more than a little fear and a bucket load of surprise and, in that instant, he knew that she didn’t know about the escape.
Hell.

“Please,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Let me up. Please.”

Sebastian used one hand to do a somewhat haphazard frisk of areas of her body that he hadn’t pressed against and bent to lift the left leg of her jeans. He thought he’d detected something there, and he was right. He pulled a retractable knife out of a shin holster, and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He rolled off of her, snagged her revolver, and put the rounds and the weapon in his pocket with her knife. He extended a hand to her, and she let him pull her up off the floor. Once up, she immediately sat down, hard, on the small sofa facing her desk.

“You can’t keep my weapons,” Skye said, drawing a deep breath. She looked worried, but not desperate. He wanted her desperate, so desperate that she’d tell him anything she knew. If she knew anything.

“I’ll return them to you,” he paused, “when I decide to.”

“Now,” she said. “I need my weapons-”

“When
I
decide, Skye.”

“You can’t-”

“Try stopping me.”

Anger flushed her cheeks. She gave him a steely-eyed glare. “My father never would have escaped.”

Sebastian walked around and stood in front of the couch. He towered above her, arms folded. Her dark hair was tousled, and her wrap sweater had loosened, showing cleavage and upper mounds of full breasts, that were encased in a creamy, lacy bra. She swallowed as she noticed where he was gazing. She narrowed her eyes as she re-tied her sweater. He shrugged off her glare. “You don’t have to take my word for it,” he said. “Call the marshals who are working the manhunt. Ask for Deputy Marshal Minero. I’ll give you the number.”

He saw more fear in her eyes. “The marshals know where I am?”

He nodded. “I know, so they know. The marshals and I are working together, Skye. Your cover’s blown.”

Her gaze flashed to a wall-mounted monitor that showed camera views of the front door, the cash register area, Spring’s room where she decorated cakes, and the rear parking pad. Spring was in the back room, just as she had been a few minutes earlier, absorbed in her cake. The other views looked like everything was normal in the coffee house, yet Skye’s hands shook.

He watched her breathe in deep, and breathe in again, without exhaling in between. “What are you so afraid of?”

Skye looked away from the monitor. Her eyes focused on him. Her shoulders and chest rose with another deep breath. She stood, squared her shoulders, and smoothed her hair. It was a great attempt at composure, and she found some, because when she spoke, her words were smooth. “My father pleaded guilty. He wanted to serve his time, and get out as soon as he could,” she shook her head, “but he would not have escaped.” She added, with conviction. “There’s absolutely no way he escaped.”

“He could have easily wrecked the prison’s security system without leaving a trace.” The Black Raven system had only been in the testing phase, he reminded himself. Still, it had been blocked, and he had no idea how.

“He wouldn’t have done that,” she said, with a solid head shake.

Great
, he thought,
Skye Barrows would need to be persuaded about every damn thing
. “Trust me. He did. I need you to tell me where he is, or where he might be.”

“You’re not a very good listener,” she said. “I didn’t even know he escaped. How could I know where he is? ”

“I’m listening,” he said, “But let me tell you a few things. One, the lengths to which you’ve gone to conceal your identity is a giant red flag. Your alias is damn good. So good I find it suspicious, and I’m wondering if your father also has an alias that he stepped into when he left prison. If he does, I’d bet my last dollar that you know what it is. Two, if your father self-surrenders, and I mean soon, there may be leniency. Every minute, every hour that he’s out, his term of imprisonment is growing longer. So if you want your father to have freedom again in this lifetime, it’s time to talk.”

Her lips were pursed, her hands were shaking, and she was breathing deeply. She lifted her right hand to her upper chest, straddling her neck with her thumb and index finger, tapping at her collarbone with her index finger.
Good
, he thought, interpreting the tapping gesture as nervousness, and glad that he was getting through to her. “Three, aiding a felon on the run is a serious crime, one for which you will do time. Any knowledge you have. Anything at all. If he’s contacted you. Where he might be going. Now’s the time to cough it up.”

When she saw that he was watching her collarbone tap, she dropped her hand and folded her arms. “I have nothing for you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She shrugged. “Do I look like I care what you believe?”

“Spare me the smart ass comments. In case you’re not understanding your predicament, here’s where I do you a favor and spell out your new reality. You really need to care what I think, because I’m the nice guy. Got it? Cooperate with us-”

“Us?” She shook her head and gave him an eyebrow-arched look of skepticism. “I only see you.”

“I’m working with the marshals, but there’s quite a few differences between the marshals and me. For one, the marshals wouldn’t hesitate to arrest you for pulling out a weapon and pointing it at them. You’re lucky you got that out of your system on me. I don’t give a damn what you do. All I care about is finding your father and throwing his ass back in jail. Cooperate with me, and maybe, just maybe, the marshals won’t detain you for hours, or days, or however long it takes to find your father. Don’t lie to us, because if you do, your problems won’t end when we find him. I’m doing you a favor by explaining your biggest nightmare, which is if you’re withholding one goddamn shred of anything, you’re going to be charged with aiding an escaped federal prisoner and your ass is going to be sitting in a jail cell for years to come. With you and your father both sitting in prison, there’ll be no one to take care of your sister. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Take care of her?”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Private Investigator?”
Skye’s words were laced with narrow-eyed distaste. She tried to walk around him, in the direction of the door. “Because if it is, you can just go to hell. You have no authority over me, and since I haven’t heard from my father in months, you’re wasting your time asking me anything.”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her access to the door. “Well, you do have to talk to me.”
Gorgeous
, he thought, but she was working him as hard as he was working her. “I’m acting as an agent of the government in this instance and, by the way, I’m a private security contractor,” he said, “not a private investigator.”

“Wow. Big man, big threats. I’ll let a
real
agent of the government ask the questions. If the marshals come, I’ll talk to them.”

“There’s no if. They are coming,” he said.

“Whatever. I’ll see when they get here.”

“Dammit. Stop acting like talking is a choice and don’t ‘whatever’
me.”

Ragno said, her voice filling his ear, “Minero’s on the line.”

Sebastian was so absorbed in arguing with Skye he’d almost forgotten that he was basically tethered to Ragno. Holding Skye’s gaze, wishing she didn’t look so damn good with her hair loose and wild and her cheeks flushed with pink, he said, “Put him through.”

Skye said, “Who? Through to where?”

Sebastian pointed to his ear. “Phone call.”

She lifted her hand and pushed at his shoulder. “Well, take your phone call in your car as you’re driving away. Jerk.”

Ragno, privy to the entire conversation, chuckled, and said efficiently, “Here’s Minero.”

He was tempted to stand his ground, to see if she’d try pushing him again. A push-fest with Skye, though, wasn’t something that would end well for either of them. He’d only end up getting aroused again, and she’d be even less likely to talk. He’d be no closer to an answer to the question of the day, and he’d have a hard-on that might never go away, unless he did something about it.

Fuck.

Suddenly feeling like a frustrated adolescent whose hormones made him ineffective at everything, Sebastian walked to the only exit from the small office. Turning his back to the closed door, he kept his eye on Skye as he effectively blocked her departure. For the moment she was still, standing between the couch and the desk. At least she was far enough away that he couldn’t be distracted by how damn good she smelled. Although her cheeks remained flushed and her eyes were still wide with fear, her gaze was introspective, as though she was thinking through options.