And she got the message loud and clear. She was the one who broke their kiss, the panic around her edges proving she was as impacted by their lovemaking in a way she would never admit.
“I’d say you finished what I started,” she said with a breathless laugh. “Did that live up to those fantasies you were telling me about?”
“The real thing beats the fantasies cold.”
She lowered her gaze, a gesture that told him better than words that she was feeling overwhelmed right now.
“Here. Let me.” He brushed aside her hands and helped her pull the coveralls back up.
Then Jake noticed something he’d missed while making love to her against the vault, even though the only thing separating him from the door had been the width of her slim body.
“I designed this vault.” He tugged the ski mask off his head completely and ran a hand over the door.
“You’re sure?”
He gave a snort. “I hold the patent on this outer coating. Yeah, I’m sure.”
Her green eyes gleamed. She was back on comfortable ground again. “I already knew that. Your patent was one of the reasons my dad recommended TSS to make Eddie’s vaults.”
“Vaults plural, as in more than one?”
“This one’s just smoke. He has a two-vault system. There’s another one around here. I won’t tell you where.”
“I’m impressed. Who designed the set-up?”
“My dad and the crew. They were impressed that your outer coating would make it easier for law enforcement to lift latent fingerprint impressions. Even though you’re not a conventional safe manufacturer, my dad believed you offered better features.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Mallory inclined her head in acknowledgment. “It is.”
Then they got back to business, replacing the ceiling panels, storing the chunk of drywall and otherwise removing all traces of their visit. Finally, they headed to the rear doorway to reactivate the last quadrant of the security system.
“Jake, do you get the feeling that you’ve forgotten something?” she asked.
He tossed their gear into the back seat of his SUV and glanced back at her. “No. Have I?”
“Do the words surveillance camera mean anything to you?”
Those two words stopped him dead in his tracks. Of course there was a camera on the storeroom, and he’d forgotten about it. “There’s a tape of you giving me a blow job and me—”
She nodded, her face set in an expression of mock apology.
Another test. “And you have absolutely no intention of going back inside and getting it, do you?”
“You tripped the alarm.”
“You’d leave the tape there?”
“Eddie and Opal will get it back to us.”
Us.
At any other time he might have savored the sound of that word, but right now he was too busy deciding whether or not she was bluffing.
Mallory didn’t bluff, and an image of what he would look like on film with his erection showcased against burglar black coveralls while she worked her magic was enough to make him slam the car door shut.
Don’t tell me you want a fling. That’s not what I want to hear, Duke’s warning echoed in his memory.
“Damn it, Mallory. Where’s the monitoring station?”
“You’ll have to find it yourself. And Jake…” She paused, her smile dazzling in the darkness. “Try not to trip the alarm again.”
14
SOME INTUITION warned Mallory of trouble the instant Jake turned the corner onto her block. Her skin tingled as though she’d touched a live current and her senses shot into overdrive. When she saw the blockade of law-enforcement vehicles surrounding her house, visibars flashing silently in the late-night darkness, she almost wasn’t surprised.
The impulse to tell Jake to keep driving hit her hard. She didn’t want to tackle another problem when she wasn’t at her best, when she’d already expended so much energy facing her conflicted feelings for Jake. Their encounter at Eddie’s had knocked her into the really sub-par category. How could she be anything but when her best attempts to convince herself Jake was only a good piece of ass left her wanting him more than she’d ever wanted any man?
Jake wheeled his SUV behind a police car. “Are you sure Eddie didn’t mind us breaking into his place?”
“This isn’t about Eddie. Trust me.” The sight of her front door standing wide open revealed that the trouble had happened inside her house. The fact that her security company hadn’t reached her by cell…she glanced down at her purse. She’d turned her cell phone off when they’d arrived at Eddie’s.
Slipping out of the car, she walked with Jake toward the officer who stood beside his patrol car talking into a radio.
“This is my place, officer. What happened?”
He lowered his radio. “A break-in. The perp’s inside. Some stoned-out kid we caught in the act.”
Another icy blast of premonition swept along her spine, and she apparently wasn’t the only one who had a bad feeling because Jake’s hand was suddenly on her shoulder, steadying her.
Mallory took off up the stairs and the minute she stepped through the open door, she saw him, standing against the wall below the stairs, back toward the uniformed officer who fastened cuffs on his wrists.
Lance.
He wasn’t struggling, looked as if he would have sunk to the floor in a heap if another man—a plainclothes detective, Mallory guessed—hadn’t been holding him against the wall.
She didn’t have to see his bloodshot eyes to know he was wasted, and even knowing he was under the influence didn’t dull the reality of him standing inside her home. Or the terrible hope that there was a valid explanation for the mess in the kitchen that looked as though he’d rummaged through her cabinets and drawers for something to steal.
“What happened here, officers?” Jake asked.
“You own this place?” the uniformed officer asked, his gaze taking note of their matching black coveralls.
Jake nodded before Mallory had a chance to, her response time really thrown off when Lance fixed an imploring gaze on her.
“Caught this kid helping himself to the cash you had laying around,” the detective explained. “And some high-ticket equipment. He claims to know you.”
She nodded, glancing into the dining room, where two more uniformed officers and another detective were cataloguing equipment on the table. Her PDA, laptop, cellular radio units, digital camera, portable global positioning system—all items Lance could carry out the door and pawn for a few grand at best. And with the cash she kept around for emergencies…
Somehow the total seemed wildly out of balance to the reality of what was happening right now, the turmoil that was happening inside her.
Jake talked with the detective about what would happen to Lance now, what Mallory’s options were, and she felt stupid and slow-witted and unable to focus on anything beyond the way that Lance had been dismissed from the equation. He was someone who’d given up his rights, a lawbreaker who’d created a problem and would have no say in the resolution.
“Why?” she asked him.
He worked to focus his bleary gaze. “Dad said you’d be at Eddie’s tonight. He cut me off. Needed some money, Mal.”
For drugs, no doubt. And the fact that Lance obviously considered ripping her off a viable way to finance his habit slapped her in the face with another of those liquid boundaries between right and wrong. She’d been reared as a burglar by a professional, yet never once in her life had her father ever let her believe it was okay to steal.
His business was stealing from businesses for other businesses, impersonal. Insurance companies covered the losses. Yes, it was stealing. Yes, it was illegal. Yes, it was wrong. But it was never a personal invasion of someone’s life, of the things someone valued, or the place they felt safe…that was out of bounds, especially if that someone was a friend.
Mallory didn’t know what to say. She was
stunned that Lance had sunk so low, upset for Polish Paul who couldn’t seem to help his son. And she was angry. Lance had placed her in an awkward situation not only with law enforcement who would expect her to press charges, but with her own conscience. She didn’t want to be the one forced to make a decision of this magnitude about his future.
“Mallory,” Jake said, tightening his grip on her elbow. “Detective Carson wants you to do a walk-through to see if anything else is missing.”
“This is quite a security arrangement you’ve got here, Miss Hunt.” The detective inclined his head approvingly. “I still don’t believe this kid got in. If it hadn’t been for your backup system, he’d have been long gone before we got here.”
Mallory only nodded. Once they knew who Lance’s father and friends were, they wouldn’t be so surprised.
With Jake at her side, she searched her workshop then headed upstairs where she found her jewelry untouched. There were several valuable pieces that her dad had given her through the years that she knew would have brought Lance more money: the emerald ring her dad had given her for her sixteenth birthday, the diamond pendant he’d given her for her twenty-first. Items she would have considered losses for their sentimental value alone.
She supposed that the fact Lance hadn’t taken them meant there was still some hope for him.
Jake motioned her into the bathroom then closed the door behind them, blocking out the sound of the officers below, of the radio static and the chatter of a crime-scene investigation.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Just relieved he didn’t have a weapon on him,” she said more calmly than she felt. “Those officers walked in on him. If he’d even looked like he was reaching for a weapon, they’d have shot him right in my living room.”
The weight of that statement lingered between them for a moment before Jake asked, “Are you aware of the choice you need to make now?”
“They expect me to press charges.”
He nodded. “What do you want to do?”
She retreated to the window and stared out into her small backyard, illuminated only with the fading starlight and the glow of solar path lights along the neat flower beds.
Jake seemed to understand that she needed space, that she wouldn’t welcome him trying to comfort her, that she needed distance to manage the turmoil she felt. Turmoil that was wiping away her objectivity and making her options unclear.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, feeling stupidly helpless. “I don’t want to press charges. I don’t want that responsibility.”
“That would be easiest.”
“Yes, it would. It would be easiest for me and for Lance.” Though she sensed no disapproval in Jake, her own words rang in her ears like a cop-out. “I’m not convinced easiest is what’s best for him, though.”
Silence fell again, the weight of Jake’s warm brown stare underscoring the fact that he was respecting her need to puzzle through this alone, to gauge what she should do against what she could live with.
But she knew by the way he leaned back against the vanity, the way he folded his arms across his chest that he was holding back. He had an opinion, but he wouldn’t force it on her unless she wanted it.
To Mallory’s surprise, she did. He looked so solid and real standing there, so uncomplicated and in that moment she didn’t want to struggle with her need, didn’t want to resist him.
“What do you think, Jake?”
“I think you need to do whatever will help Lance.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“You haven’t told me enough about what’s going on with him to understand the problem, but from where I’m standing, it seems obvious he’s out of control and not getting the help he needs.”
He didn’t mince words, and she respected his honesty.
“He’s angry,” she said, a catch in her voice. “I don’t know why. No one does. And not for lack of trying to figure it out, either. He’s been making poor choices and hanging around with the worst kinds of friends. Polish Paul is doing everything he can, but he loves Lance and feels guilty because he’s having such a hard time. We’ve all been trying to convince Paul to get outside help but he won’t. He needs to make some tough choices about his son that he hasn’t been able to make.”
“Why?”
“I think he’s scared. If he lets the situation out of his control he might not get it back. The law can be unpredictable with minors. He’s afraid they’ll think he hasn’t been doing his job and put Lance in a juvenile facility.”
Jake’s frown gave Mallory the impression that he was remembering their discussion about her own stint in foster care.
“Maybe that would be best for Lance right now.”
It was a hard truth, but not one Mallory hadn’t thought of already. “Maybe, but how do I know?”
“You don’t. You take a leap of faith and hope for the best. The only thing you can know for sure right now is if Lance continues what he’s doing he could wind up in jail. You might not press charges but someone else could. And consider that the next time one of his friends calls you to pick him up from behind a Dumpster, he might not be alive when you get there.”
That statement fell flat between them, a cold hard truth. She just stared at him, hands by her sides because she wasn’t sure what to do with them. She didn’t want to look upset, didn’t want to show weakness, but she knew he saw right through her.
“It’s not an easy situation, Mallory,” he said softly. “But you have an opportunity to help him.”
“You think I should press charges.”
“Only you know what feels right. But Lance is a minor. Any trouble he gets in now won’t go on his permanent record. Maybe the court will order him into a juvenile facility. Maybe they’ll force him to get help. Either way he gets a chance to fix things. I understand Polish Paul’s concerns, but once Lance turns eighteen, he won’t have any control over his son at all.”
What Jake said made sense. She knew it in her head and more importantly, she knew it in her heart. Polish Paul hadn’t been able to bring himself to get tough with Lance, and she understood. All the people who loved them did. Polish Paul had never gotten over the death of his wife, felt guilty on some level that she’d died and not him, leaving their young son with no mother.
Polish Paul needed his friends to help him now.
And even knowing that in her heart didn’t make her feel any better about what she had to do.
She felt fragile and needy when she wasn’t a fragile and needy person. She wanted Jake to tell her that everything would work out all right, because somehow if he said it, she could believe it. He didn’t lie. She wanted to feel his arms around her, wanted so badly to cross the short distance between them and let him hold her.
She couldn’t bring herself to take the first step.
Jake must have seen so much more of her struggle than she wanted to reveal because he reached out to her. Taking her hand, he said, “Let’s go talk to the officers. They’ll be able to give you more information.”
No pressure. He just stood by her side when she spoke with the detectives about what to expect if they took Lance down to the station.
He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder when Lance started apologizing, pleading with her to call his dad, heartbreakingly scared and disbelieving that she’d let the officers take him.
And through it all Mallory appreciated Jake’s nearness, grateful that he didn’t try to make her feel better with empty words because she hadn’t had to blink back the first tear. She just stood there watching Lance disappear with a gleam of red taillights into the night, knowing that she’d cried all her tears the last time she’d watched someone she loved driven away in the back of a police cruiser.
“LANCE HAS BEEN BOOKED. He’ll have a chance to call his father before we put him in a holding cell,” Lieutenant Gregory Dunkel said after hanging up the telephone. He glanced at the statement Mallory had given the officers and stood, circled
his desk and took both of her hands. “I’ll personally talk to his father and monitor his case, if that will make you feel better.”
“It will, Greg. Thanks.”
The lieutenant couldn’t have been much older than Jake but he had dark hair streaked with silver and an attitude of commanding self-possession that was pure law enforcement. And the way he stared at Mallory… They were obviously well acquainted, and Lieutenant Dunkel had made it clear throughout the process of delivering her statement and filing a police report that he was very interested in her welfare.
Mallory hadn’t seemed to notice. As she had all night, she went through the motions, looking raw around the edges and very grateful that her police connections would garner some special consideration for Lance. And as Jake had all night, he stood close, watching officers, detectives and certain lieutenants trip over themselves trying to impress her.
“You did the right thing, Mallory,” the lieutenant said. “I know it’s hard, but let us do our jobs now and see what we can do to turn this kid around.”
“I’m counting on you.” She squeezed his hands before releasing them. “Now, what about those reports? Any luck yet?”
The lieutenant’s gaze flicked over to Jake. “As a matter of fact, yes. Do you want to talk now?”
She followed his gaze, nodded. “It’s okay. Jake’s…a friend.”
Judging from the look on the lieutenant’s face, it wasn’t okay. The man clearly didn’t like that Mallory considered Jake close enough to hang around while they discussed business.
And neither did Jake. He didn’t like that the best term she could come up with for him was that of a very tentative friend. He intended to be a helluva lot more. But until they crossed that distance, he supposed the fact that she allowed him to stay in the office was a victory of sorts.
The lieutenant swung back around his desk, retrieved a file with a stack of dated documents and motioned for Mallory to sit down. She set the reports on the desk so Jake could view them over her shoulder and began scanning the pages. “These are exactly what I needed, Greg. I was afraid they’d been cleared out a long time ago.”
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