by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan
A grin brightened her face, and she straightened. “Thank you.” Her gaze flicked Lisa’s direction. “Hello, deary. I see you found him.”
He looked toward Lisa. Found him? She’d already been here?
Lisa’s eyes widened. Her lips parted as if she were going to respond. Hell, he didn’t need her opening her big mouth out here on the street. After that little show she’d put on at the marina, he could only imagine what would come pouring out.
He ushered her up the porch steps before she could toss off some flip answer. “I’ll come over later, Mrs. Kimbel.”
“Oh. Okay, Rafael. You are such a sweet boy.”
As he unlocked the door, he heard Lisa harrumph behind him. Her opinion of him didn’t matter in the least, so why did he have this overwhelming urge to defend himself?
He pushed aside the ludicrous thought, pulled the screen open and waited while Lisa stepped inside. She flicked an irritated look his direction before moving into the entry of the house.
Cool air washed over him when he followed, and he closed the door, blocking out the heat and humidity. Lisa ran a hand over her sweaty brow. For a moment, the aggravation dissipated, and she closed her eyes, tipped her face up toward the ceiling fan and drew in a long breath. “How the hell do people live in this heat?” she mumbled.
A sucker punch hit him low in the gut—the memory of her writhing beneath him on that great big bed, offering him her throat just like that in that faraway hotel room. With her face flushed, eyes closed and chin tipped up, she’d begged him to take her.
Hurry, Rafe.
Carajo. He ran a hand over his face. He needed to get a grip. A golden opportunity had dropped right into his lap when she’d shown up. Common sense told him if he were going to find Tisiphone, he’d need to string Lisa Maxwell along a while longer.
And not in a sexual way. Although he could think of a thousand different ways he’d like to string her up. By her arms, naked and wet, moaning while he licked every part of her. By her feet, to the end of his bed, spread wide and waiting while he drove her to the edge again and again.
Holy hell. This was going to kill him.
He cleared his throat and stepped around her toward the living room. “In here.”
His mouth dropped open when he walked into the main room. The wicker couch was tipped over, cushions slashed, the stuffing strewn across the floor. The coffee table was a pile of smashed glass, lamps nearby broken and lying on their sides. A glass cabinet to his left sat open, his sports memorabilia shattered, pieces missing.
“¡Me cago en nada!” Wide-eyed, he turned a small circle, taking in the damage.
Lisa skirted a broken ceramic bowl on the floor and a smattering of seashells thrown across the carpet. “Let me guess. Maid’s day off?”
A hot rush of blood pumped through him, dousing whatever idiotic arousal he’d felt before. He whipped toward her and fought the urge to pick her up and hurl her across the room. “Find what you were looking for?”
Her eyes grew wide. “You think I did this?”
“Who else would break in and trash the place?”
“I don’t know. How many other women did you hustle this week?”
“Obviously one too many.” He shook his head and tried to rein in his temper before he lost it for good. “You think you’re getting her back now?”
Fury flashed in her eyes. “You really are delusional if you think I did this. Why on earth would I bother coming back here with you if I’d already trashed your pathetic little house?”
“Because you didn’t find it. And because you wanted to gloat.”
She let out a smug laugh. “I don’t need to gloat, Slick.” She crossed her arms and cocked her head. “But since you brought it up, tell me. How does it feel, being duped?”
Anger coiled in his stomach. He took a step toward her.
A rap at the door made him stop short.
“Sullivan? You in there?”
His gaze darted to the entry.
Lisa moved toward the window and peeked through the curtain. A superior grin slid across her features. “Looks like I don’t have to call the cops after all.”
“Ah, pues bien,” he muttered, walking toward the entryway. He jerked the door open and frowned at both the rush of humid air tumbling into the house and Officer Hailey Roarke’s amused expression. “Yeah?”
Hailey’s blue eyes narrowed. She hooked her thumbs in her gun belt. “Heard there was some trouble down at the docks.”
“You heard wrong.”
She glanced around the door into the living room, let out a low whistle, then stepped around him, her curly blond ponytail wagging behind her. “Well now. This definitely doesn’t look like trouble.”
He slammed the door. Great. Might as well invite the whole damn neighborhood over, while they were at it.
Hailey stopped in the doorway to the shambled living room. “What did you do, Sullivan? Throw a wild party?”
He shot Lisa a look across the room. Her feline grin said she was enjoying every moment of this, just waiting for him to sweat. The realization had amusement trickling through his system, drowning the surge of anger.
Hailey’s gaze finally settled on Lisa, and she lifted her eyebrows in question. Rafe cleared his throat. “Lisa Maxwell. Officer Roarke.”
“Is she the one who was causing all the trouble down at the marina?” Hailey looked his direction. Her eyes shifted from his damp clothing up to his face. “The one that got you all…wet?”
“Yeah. Same one.”
Lisa’s victorious grin faded. “Hold on—”
“Wanna press charges?” Hailey cut in.
“Hell, yes,” Lisa exclaimed.
Hailey glanced back at Lisa and held up a finger. “Not you.” She turned toward Rafe. “I can run her down to the station if you want.”
Lisa’s eyes grew wide. Unable to bite back a smile, Rafe slipped his hands into his wet pockets and rocked back on his heels. “If you strip-search her, can I watch?”
Lisa’s mouth fell open.
Oh, querida, if you knew what I wanted to do to that mouth, you’d close it, right now.
Hailey slanted a cheesy grin his direction. “You never change, Rafe Sullivan.”
Her words pulled him back from the fantasy taking root in his mind. “What made you think I had?” He turned for the kitchen. “I need a beer. You want one?”
“Gosh, yes. I had the day from hell.” Hailey stopped near an overturned wicker chair. “Are you planning to report this? ’Cause if so, you can’t touch anything yet.”
Rafe scowled and looked toward Lisa. “I already know who did it.”
“And?” Hailey asked, waiting.
“And pull up a chair. If you can find one that hasn’t been busted to hell and back.”
Hailey righted a chair and plopped down onto the seat with a grunt. “Fine by me. Saves me a bunch of work. I’m pooped.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I swung by the marina on my way home. Tim Kelly said you went for a swim at the docks.” She laughed and shook her head. “I would have paid to see that.”
Rafe frowned at the mess in the kitchen as he searched for a bottle opener in the drawer. “Timmy-boy needs to get a life. It wasn’t all that exciting.”
“Dammit, Rafe,” Hailey exclaimed, lifting a ripped blue throw pillow off the floor. “My grandmother made this.”
He walked back into the room with three longnecks, handed her one. “She made that? Are you sure? I thought you took all that crap with you.”
Hailey frowned as she slipped her fingers around the beer he offered. “She made it for you, you big jerk.”
Lisa’s eyes widened, and understanding ran across her delicate features as she glanced between the two. Was it jealousy causing that startled look? Some juvenile feeling inside made him hope so.
“Look.” Lisa held up her hands. “Can we just skip all this domestic squabbling and get down to business?”
Rafe held out the thir
d beer to her. She swatted at him. “I don’t want a goddamn beer, you ass. I want my rock.”
Hailey lifted her bottle. “I like her.”
He did, too. And that was going to be a real problem. Especially when she found out just what he wanted from her.
Rafe set her unwanted beer on the only undamaged end table in the room. “She’s got a mouth on her.”
Hailey grinned. “I thought you liked that in a woman.”
That tempting mouth of Lisa’s dropped open again, reigniting the arousal in his gut. “Hello? I’m standing right here.”
Hailey glanced at Rafe. “I really like her. She’d keep you on your toes. Gonna keep her?”
Lisa dropped onto the window seat and rubbed her temples. “I’ve stumbled into a bad version of To Catch a Thief.”
Hailey laughed and leaned back in her chair. The beer in her hand spilled over onto the carpet.
“Hey,” Rafe exclaimed. “I know the house is trashed and you don’t live here anymore, but show some respect.” He flipped over another chair and sat.
“Sorry.” Hailey tried to choke back the laughter. “I didn’t realize she was the one. Damn, she’s fast.”
“The one?” Lisa’s fiery gaze snapped to Rafe. “She knows?”
Rafe tipped the beer up to his lips and took a long swallow, eyes locked on Lisa’s over the bottle. A tingling ran through his stomach as she watched him. It didn’t matter that it was hatred making those emeralds shine, they were still just as piercing as they’d been when she’d wanted to screw the hell out of him in Italy.
“Yep. She’s the one,” he said, ignoring Lisa’s question.
“Well.” Hailey smiled. “You could have done worse.”
He still could. Knowing his damn luck, he probably would. He was running out of time to find the Furies, and if Lisa Maxwell couldn’t get Tisiphone for him, he was going to have to break his promise. And that wasn’t an option.
Rafe rose. Being trapped between his ex-wife and the woman he’d been fantasizing about for the past week wasn’t a place he wanted to be. “I need dry clothes. Keep an eye on her, would you? Make sure she doesn’t trash anything else.”
Chapter Five
Lisa scowled as Rafe headed for the hall. The longer she sat there, the higher her blood pressure soared. Her gaze flicked to the blond police officer seated across from her, the woman who was clearly more than just Rafe Sullivan’s friend.
Why did she care so much? He could screw whomever the hell he wanted. It wasn’t her business or her problem, and she sure wasn’t going to let it be either.
She straightened. “I don’t care what the heck he said, I didn’t break in here.”
Hailey’s smile faded. “He says you did.”
“Don’t believe that. He’s a liar and an ass.”
Hailey laughed. “No argument there. But he’s a damn good thief. You have to give him credit. He got by you, didn’t he?”
Unable to believe they were even having this conversation, Lisa grimaced. “You know he’s a criminal? And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course I know. That’s how we met. I busted him for B and E.”
“I got off for lack of evidence,” Rafe called from the other room.
“I let you off, pretty boy,” Hailey tossed back.
Lisa dropped her head into her hands and groaned. There were some things a woman shouldn’t have to suffer through. Listening to a man she’d almost had a wild one-night stand with—and one who still heated her veins—flirt with his girlfriend or lover or whatever the hell this woman was to him was one.
Fantasizing about kicking the girlfriend out so she could have her way with that man was two.
“And his record does bother me,” Hailey added, “which is one of the reasons we’re not married anymore.”
Married? Lisa glanced up sharply. Oh, this was getting better and better.
Hailey winked. “The other is that we just weren’t right for each other. Underneath this little hobby of his, though, he’s a pretty good guy.”
“And I thought you didn’t love me anymore,” Rafe teased from the doorway.
Hailey’s smile faded as she rose and set her beer on the counter. “I don’t. You’re also controlling, obnoxious and a royal pain in my ass. And if you aren’t planning on pressing charges, I’m going to head home, soak my aching feet, and fantasize about a long torrid love affair with Brad Pitt. Call me if you need anything.”
She cast Lisa a quick and speculative glance, then slipped out the front door.
Lisa’s pulse kicked up a notch at the thought of being alone with Rafe again. She was not relieved the man was no longer married, dammit. That thought was just too stupid to even entertain.
But she sure as hell didn’t miss the fact the ‘pretty boy’ in front of her put Brad Pitt to shame. Mayan god came to mind as she studied him from head to toe. His hair was combed back, wet curls teasing the nape of his neck. He’d ditched the dripping clothes and was now wearing a white cotton T-shirt that advertised a bar somewhere in the Keys, and fresh faded blue jeans slung low on his hips. His bare feet peeked out from beneath the cuffs of his jeans; his strong arms and broad chest filled out the snug shirt. And when he flashed that crooked smile her way, her insides went all liquid.
Thief, liar, jerk. Why couldn’t she remember those simple facts when he looked at her with those roving eyes?
“So, the relief,” she said, rising and clearing her throat, hoping that would refocus her on the real reason she’d tracked him down. Hoping it would at least get her mind out of the gutter. “Where is it?”
His smile faded. He slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorjamb. “It’s safe.”
“I want it.”
“I think I realize that,” he said, glancing around the room.
“I didn’t do this,” she said again.
“Well, someone did. And all the signs point to you, querida.”
Her eyes narrowed with understanding. “You’re not going to give it to me, are you?”
He studied her for a long moment, dark, piercing eyes locked on hers. “Not yet.”
Yet. Teasing, but no guarantee one way or the other. She crossed her arms over her chest and fought back the obscenities lingering on her tongue. “What do you want, Sullivan?”
He pushed away from the door, crossed and stood right in front of her. Some leathery scent mixed with sage and citrus washed over her, making her aware of his raw masculinity, making her forget what she’d even asked in the first place. “I want Tisiphone.”
He was easily a foot taller than she was, close to six-two. Her size had never really been an issue before—in her line of work it was actually an asset. She could get into nooks and crannies her colleagues couldn’t, and she used that fact to her advantage whenever she could. But standing in front of him now, feeling the warmth radiating from his body, looking up at his chiseled features and square jaw with a hint of five-o’clock shadow, his size made her feel small and feminine and just the slightest bit…intimidated.
“Do you think I have Tisiphone?”
“No. But I think you know where she is. And I think together, you and I can find her.”
You and I. The words echoed through her mind. Clearly a compromise. She’d never been good at compromise. It was one of the reasons she was still single at thirty-eight.
One of the reasons.
“Why on earth would I know where to find Tisiphone?” she asked.
He shot her an incredulous look. “Your grad school mentor was hot on Tisiphone’s trail some fifteen years ago. I know how to do research too, Dr. Maxwell. And I know you’ve been working that cute little ass off trying to track down the second relief all by yourself.”
Lisa’s blood chilled at the mention of Douglas Stone. Just the thought of the man who’d all but broken her sent emotions she’d kept buried for years roiling through her. She’d lost everything because of him. Everything except herself. His death might have alt
ered her life forever, but she’d learned one very valuable lesson because of him: she was the only person she could ever believe in.
And that was the second reason she was still single at her age.
She fought to keep her emotions guarded. The last thing she needed was to leave herself vulnerable to someone like Rafe Sullivan. Her relationship with Doug was long gone, but this thief had obviously dug up enough dirt to know just whom and what she’d been researching the last few months.
She set her jaw. “And why would I help you?”
“Because we each have something the other wants. I want Tisiphone. You want Alecto.”
“Alecto’s already mine, Slick. I don’t need you.”
That smile returned, white teeth flashing against full, tempting lips. “Possession’s nine-tenths of the law, Querida. And just for the record, you don’t have her anymore.”
Anger simmered just under Lisa’s skin. “So you want to make a deal.”
He rocked back on his heels as if they were having an everyday, friendly conversation. “You could say that. But I like to think of it as a partnership. Your brains and connections, my resources and funds. I’m fairly certain together, we can find her. Hell, I know we can.”
“And then what?”
“And then we split the payoff at the end.”
He was lying through his pearly whites—she could tell by the glint in his dark eyes.
“It’s all about the money with you, isn’t it?” Her gaze narrowed when he only stared back at her, a blank look in his eye. “Without Magaera, the Furies aren’t complete. You won’t get half what they’re really worth.”
His lips curled. “Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours about Magaera.”
What the hell did that mean?
As if sensing her question, he shrugged. “I’ve already got a lead on the third Fury. And I always get what I want. Always,” he added with just a hint of lust in his eyes that told her the Furies weren’t the only things he wanted. “Right now we just need to focus on Tisiphone.”
She couldn’t trust this guy as far as she could throw him. He’d proven that in Italy. But without him, she was screwed. His “partnership” made a sick sort of sense, if she really thought about it.