Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls)

by Melinda Leigh

  She reveled in the movement of his chest beneath her face. Every breath that passed in and out of his lungs reinforced the fact that he was alive.

  People she cared about tended to end up dead.

  Brody tried to back away. “I’m covered in blood.”

  She tightened the grip of her arms. She would have waded through a river of blood to touch him. “I thought you were dead.”

  His arms folded around her. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “Not your fault. You were doing your job. Do you have to go back to work?”

  He shook his head. “Not right now. I’m going home to change and shower. Come with me?”

  “I brought Chet here.”

  Chet waved her off. “I’ll get a ride home. Go.”

  Hannah went out to the truck and followed Brody back into town. They stopped at Chet’s and picked up the dog. Brody parked in front of a large three-story house on a quiet side street near the business district. By the time they arrived, rain was falling. She got out of the pickup. The sky opened up, soaking her to the skin in seconds. They ran up the walk onto the porch.

  The porch light and the rain brightened the bloodstains on Brody’s clothes. He had a dangerous job, and she couldn’t bear to lose another person in her life. She hadn’t recovered from Lee’s death.

  But was it too late to make the choice? What did she feel for Brody?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The truck rumbled to a stop. The engine shut off, protesting with a series of metallic knocks. Jewel straightened, fresh fear bracing her spine. Though they’d spent the night in the truck, she doubted they’d traveled far. They’d picked up two more girls, but much of the time, the vehicle hadn’t been moving.

  Other girls stirred around her. There was no chatter, no hushed conversations, just apprehension simmering in the stale air. Jewel pressed a hand to the center of her stomach, where an anxious ache replaced hunger.

  The rear door rolled up. A man climbed into the truck and started unlocking handcuffs. One by one, they clattered to the metal floor. A male voice outside shouted, “Everybody up and out.”

  Jewel stood, rubbing her wrists. She led the way, shuffling to the edge. A man standing behind the truck took her hand and helped her down with a rough hold on her bicep. Cold concrete chilled her bare feet. He waved her forward and reached for the next girl. The truck had pulled into a warehouse. Two other men hung back, their gazes assessing the girls as they lined up. A fifth man stood with his back against the closed overhead door. He held some sort of rifle across his chest. Or was that a machine gun? Jewel’s head swiveled. Her eyes stretched wide as she took in her surroundings. Another armed man stood on the other side of the receiving bay.

  I’m never getting out of here.

  The column of girls filed out. They went through a set of doors into a makeshift locker room. Shower heads lined the far wall. Water swirled into drains.

  One of the men stepped to the front. “Drop your clothes into the garbage can. After you shower, you will be issued new clothing.”

  The air was hot, but the girls were shaking.

  “Where are we?” Jewel asked.

  The man stepped up to Jewel and slapped her across the face. She fell backward a step, then willed her skeleton to straighten. She lifted her chin and stared back at him. With a smile, he moved to the pregnant girl and, without taking his eyes off Jewel, slapped the girl hard across the face. She fell to her hands and knees, clutching her swollen belly.

  Jewel got the message. She stripped off her tank, strode to the trash can, and dropped it in. Her shorts followed. Naked, she moved into the shower. Cool water sluiced over hot skin. The other girls followed Jewel.

  How the hell did she end up being their leader?

  Gallon-size containers of shampoo, conditioner, and antibacterial shower gel sat on the floor. Jewel made use of them. Sure, she’d been whored out to hundreds of men, but showering in front of these men still seemed like an invasion of her privacy. As much as she hated their intrusion on such an intimate act, she had to admit that being clean felt good. She shampooed her hair with angry energy. They were instructed to use conditioner. Safety razors were handed out. No hairy legs or armpits allowed.

  Jewel emerged from the spray and grabbed a towel from a rack. She dried off and wrapped the damp towel around her body. They filed into the next room. Clean shorts and T-shirts were stacked on shelves and sorted by size. She found extra-smalls and dressed, then wrapped the towel around her dripping hair and waited for the rest of the girls to finish. Twenty minutes later, the girls were herded through another door. Shock stopped her feet, but a hand on her back propelled her forward.

  The door opened into a long corridor. Doors lined both sides. They were marched down the hall. At the end, five rooms stood open.

  “Two girls to a room,” a man ordered. He pushed the pregnant girl through the first doorway and pointed at Jewel. “You, in there.”

  Shit.

  Pressing a hand to the small of her back, the pregnant girl shuffled in. That was the one person Jewel did not want to get to know better.

  As Jewel passed by, the man blocked her path and whispered in her ear, “I heard about you. You’re the troublemaker. Just remember, every time you act up, I punish you both.” He stepped away and closed the door, leaving Jewel alone with the pregnant girl.

  “What’s your name?” Supporting her belly, the girl lowered her butt onto one of the cots. “I’m—”

  “Don’t say it. I don’t want to know.” Jewel crossed to the opposite cot, sat on it, and closed her eyes. She’d counted six armed men and twenty doors. With two girls to a room, that meant forty women could be held in this warehouse. This was no pimp and a few hos. This was big business.

  “Penny. My name is Penny. And that’s my real name, not the ridiculous one they gave me.”

  Jewel opened her eyes. Across the tiny room, Penny folded her arms over her belly and shot Jewel a Screw you look.

  “What’s that?” Jewel regretted the question, but it was too late to pull it back into her mouth.

  “Fantasy.”

  Jewel snorted. “That is ridiculous.”

  “What’s your real name?” Penny asked.

  “We’re not doing this.” Jewel remembered Lola’s betrayal. She couldn’t trust anyone. People did what was best for themselves, and she’d better learn to put her own needs first.

  “Doing what?”

  “Getting chummy. This is temporary. Some kind of processing center. We’ll all be redistributed. Who knows where we’ll end up? You worry about you, and I’ll worry about me. Got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Penny snapped back. She curled up on her side, one hand cradling her belly. Jewel turned toward the wall. That baby wasn’t her problem, but she couldn’t help wonder what would happen to it after it was born.

  Brody grabbed towels from the closet. He handed one to Hannah and rubbed the other over the dog’s fur.

  Hannah’s teeth chattered as she unsnapped AnnaBelle’s leash. “Your house is beautiful.”

  “Thanks. It’s big and requires a lot of work, but it’s home.”

  The dog trotted down the hall. She found the cat’s water bowl and drank it dry. Brody refilled it. “She won’t chase the cat, will she?”

  “I have no idea,” Hannah said. “Let me grab her.”

  But the old cat sauntered in, fearless, and rubbed on the dog’s side. AnnaBelle gave him a sniff and a wag.

  “What’s his name?” Hannah stooped to scratch behind a scraggly ear.

  “Danno.”

  She laughed. “Good name for a cop’s cat.”

  Brody went to the thermostat and turned up the temperature. “The retrofitted air-conditioning system isn’t the most efficient, but these old radiators can put out some heat.”

  �
�What year was this built?” She trailed a hand over the wainscoting that lined the foyer and hallway.

  “1885.” He led her down the wide-planked corridor to the kitchen. “Why don’t I give you something dry to put on? I have to shower and change.”

  “Would you mind if I took a quick shower?” she asked. “I’m cold straight through.”

  “Not at all.” The thought of her naked in his house sent a bolt of hunger straight through his blood.

  The narrow staircase forced them into single file. He flipped on the light in the guest bath. When renovating, he’d followed the house’s original decor as closely as possible. The bath was fitted with retro fixtures: a pedestal sink and a cast-iron claw-footed tub he’d bought at auction and had re-enameled. The floor was cream-and-black octagonal mosaic tile.

  “This is lovely.”

  “There’s soap in the shower and towels in the linen closet behind the door.”

  “Thanks.” She went into the room, pausing with the door half closed. She blinked back at him, a shocking amount of emotion swirling in her pretty blue eyes. With the crisis over, she looked lost.

  He wanted to kiss her, but she was shivering hard, and he was filthy. “Need anything else?”

  “No. I think that’s everything.”

  “I’ll put some dry clothes outside the door.”

  With a nod, she disappeared. A minute later, he heard plumbing squeal, and water rushed through pipes somewhere else in the house. He rooted through his drawer for a pair of sweatpants, a tee, and a flannel shirt. He piled them outside the hall bath. In the master, Brody stripped, dropping his bloody clothes in a trash bag. He stepped into the glassed-in shower. While he’d maintained the house’s antique integrity in the rest of the rooms, he’d fully modernized the master bath. It was ten minutes before he was satisfied that no more blood remained on his body. He dried off and wrapped a towel around his hips.

  “Brody?” Hannah called from the hall. “Can I put my wet stuff in your dryer?”

  He opened the door. She was standing just outside his bedroom, the lapels of his flannel shirt clutched in one hand, a pile of wet clothes in the other. Her hair was damp but combed, the short locks framing a heart-shaped face flushed pink from the hot shower. Though she was only a head shorter than him, her frame was narrow. She’d rolled the waistband of his sweatpants over twice, but they rode low on her hips as if they could fall at any second, something he could easily picture happening. Right now. A tiny sliver of skin showed between the hem of the shirt and the waistband of the sagging pants. His eyes lingered on that half inch of bare skin. If those pants dropped an inch . . .

  Yes, he’d seen her in a silk blouse and tailored power suit, but this . . . This was sexy. And made him want to tug her into a bed beside him.

  After the horror of today, he needed . . . He paused. What did he need? Hannah.

  Her eyes strayed from his face down his chest and paused on the towel.

  She was checking him out. Nice.

  “I’m sorry.” Blushing, she turned away. “I’ll wait downstairs.”

  “No need.” Brody moved closer and took the wet clothes from her. He leaned closer and inhaled. She smelled of mint and soap, and he wanted a taste. His gaze drifted from her mouth to her eyes.

  Her hand in the middle of his bare chest stopped him. She was studying him with suspicion, almost wariness. “What are we doing here, Brody?”

  “I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along.” But he was thinking ahead. Maybe ten minutes ahead. No more. He refused to think about the reports he’d file tomorrow or about today’s shooting. Or where Hannah would be in a month. There was only here and now.

  He saw her hand inching lower, sliding down his abs . . .

  “Do we have to have a plan?” he asked, his voice rough.

  “I like plans.”

  “How does this fit into your plan?” Brody caught the back of her neck with his free hand, gently pulled her in, and covered her mouth with his. Her elbow bent, trapping her hand between their bodies. He turned his head, slanting his lips to taste more of her, easing his tongue inside her mouth. He dropped the clothes to place his other hand on her hip and touched the exposed strip of smooth skin at her waist. His thumb stroked her hip bone. He felt the shiver course through her body.

  “Cold?” He lifted his head. Her eyes were closed. They blinked open, the blue clouded with confusion—and desire.

  “Um. No.” She slid her trapped hand to settle it on his shoulder.

  Brody’s gaze caught the fading bruise at her hairline. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. You’re still recovering.”

  “Chicken.”

  Had he heard her correctly? “What?”

  “You heard me.” Her expression went from wary to wicked. How did she know that humor was exactly what he needed? “You started this, and now you’re chickening out.” Her hand dropped to the towel. She tugged the end free and let it drop. “Mm. I don’t see any second thoughts.”

  “I want you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to take advantage of you.” The tension inside him eased with her teasing.

  “You are the one who had a hellacious day. Am I taking advantage of you?” Hannah took a step back and unbuttoned the flannel shirt. Walking past him into the master bedroom, she tossed it over her shoulder. She slid her pants down her legs and stepped out of them. Oh. She’d been commando under his pants, something he should have known since her clothes had been wet through. Why did that thought zing straight to his balls?

  The T-shirt hit the wall next to his head, and the sight of her naked body stunned him.

  Challenge filled the glance she cast back at him. He’d always thought of blue as a cool color, but tonight her eyes blazed pure heat.

  “Come on, Brody. What are you afraid of?”

  You.

  Somewhere inside Brody’s head, under the raging want of her, an alarm went off. If he gave in to his desire tonight, nothing would ever be the same. One night with her would never be enough. He’d be giving her the power to hurt him. But tonight, he didn’t care. He needed human contact.

  He needed her.

  She walked five paces and stopped next to the bed. She turned, giving him her body in profile. Long, long legs. Lean body. Small breasts in perfect proportion to the sleek length of her.

  Deep in his chest, something gave, opened, unfurled. There was no choice to make. He had to have her.

  Brody moved toward her. No risk. No reward.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Was he going to reject her?

  Hannah paused in the doorway. The air in the room chilled her skin. Brody’s bedroom was masculine, decorated in earth tones from pale gray to deep brown. An island-size sleigh bed dominated the space. Goose bumps rippled up her arms. Fear or cold?

  Ten feet away from her, Brody wrestled with a decision. A thought bloomed in Hannah’s mind. She needed to get to know this man better. There was more to him than he’d revealed. He’d kissed her, and his physical hunger for her was obvious. So why was he hesitating?

  Brody kept his emotions bottled with a tight seal. From the desire in his kiss, she’d thought he needed comfort and distraction after today’s turmoil. But she shouldn’t have pressured him. Behind the want in his eyes, there was another emotion buried: pain. He’d downplayed his ex-wife’s cheating, but clearly, her betrayal had left a scar. The sudden surge of anger shocked her. She couldn’t bulldoze her way through Brody’s walls. A kiss was not always an invitation to share one’s bed. Sometimes a kiss was just a kiss.

  Her gaze fell to the clothes she’d tossed on the floor. She stooped to gather them, shame bursting through her. “I’m sorry. The timing is all wrong. I didn’t mean to—”

  He crossed the gap between them in two long strides. His shadow fell over her. His hand grasped her shoulders, pulled her to her feet. />
  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  He crushed his mouth to hers. His hands grasped her hips and pulled her body to his, every inch of him hard and lean. There was no bulkiness to his frame. He had the body of an endurance athlete. If the previous kiss had been warm, this one needed to be measured in degrees Kelvin.

  One hand circled to her back, stroking up and down her bare skin. “I need you.”

  Desire crowded out Hannah’s doubts. She pressed her body against his, skin sliding over skin, heat meeting heat.

  He backed her toward the bed. Her legs hit the edge of the mattress. She fell backward, pulling Brody on top of her. They tumbled onto the duvet.

  Brody’s mouth cruised over her, his hands covering the skin his lips weren’t touching, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He kissed her breasts. Heat blasted through her. Her hand closed around him then moved around to cup his balls. A masculine groan rumbled through his chest.

  He lifted his head. One arm reached for the nightstand. He opened the drawer and pulled out a small package of condoms. Shock and horror crossed his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re expired.” He sighed. “It’s been a while.”

  “Let me check my bag. We might get lucky.” Hannah pushed off the bed. She went into the bathroom, where she’d left her purse. She unzipped the small compartments. Damn. Not there.

  “Might?” He called from the bedroom.

  “It’s not like I use them by the dozen.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

  Purse in hand, she went back into the bedroom and rooted in her handbag for her tiny cosmetic bag. She could feel his eyes on her. She looked back at him. He’d rolled onto his back, one arm over his head on the pillow, his body stretched out like a buffet. A sexy grin full of male appreciation spread across his face.

  She paused. “What are you thinking?”

  “That you should do everything naked.”

  The laugh eased her nerves. Kneeling, she pulled the nylon case out and opened the clasp. Her hand went to the small zippered compartments in the lining. She swept her fingers inside. “Bingo.” Thankfully, her cosmetic case hadn’t fit in the small evening bag that was stolen in Vegas.