The Chase

by Adrienne Giordano

  “Did you have to come all the way over here? Aren’t you tired? And hungry?”

  He dropped onto her sofa. “Yes, I did. Yes, I’m tired. Yes, I’m hungry.” He flashed a grin. “Not bad. All three of your questions answered. Boom-boom-boom.”

  She rolled her eyes and marched to the kitchen, her ponytail swinging as she walked and giving her an almost youthful appearance, a sweetness he normally wouldn’t attribute to her. He liked it though. This other side of Jo. The reverse Jo.

  Over the breakfast bar, he saw her open the fridge and start pulling platters. Might as well see what she had going on there. He wandered to the kitchen and leaned against the support wall. “I didn’t come here for you to feed me.”

  “I know. But I have a ton of leftovers that my mother left me. Some shindig she hosted and ordered too much food for. This is one of the benefits of having parents who are both political consultants. They go to all these fancy fundraisers.”

  “Both your folks work in politics?”

  She shoved one of the platters into the microwave and started it. “Yep. Mom is a democrat and Dad is a republican. Makes for interesting family debates. I refuse to visit them during October of an election year. Filthy drama.”

  No wonder Jo was so combative. Suddenly, he understood her better than he had seconds before.

  She shifted back to him, propped a hip against the counter and loaded him up on eye contact. Holy hell. Those blue eyes were laser sharp and focused squarely on him. Run. He should hightail it out of there. If she kissed him again, with the mood he was in, his body aching for all the wrong reasons, he’d be all over her. They’d both had a shitty day and he couldn’t summon a whole lot wrong with dropping into her bed and working off the stress.

  His little brain definitely wanted things his big brain told him were a mistake. Never mind that it could completely annihilate their working relationship and splinter the mayor’s pet project.

  Except, right now he wasn’t sure he cared.

  “I was hoping you’d show up,” she said.

  “You waited for me?”

  “I did.”

  He’d never been accused of being stupid. Particularly when it came to females who green lighted him. All this eye contact? Definite green light. And Jo, at least in his experience, wasn’t one to be cagey. Once she decided on a course of action, she went for it.

  Typically, her course of action drove him insane. Now? Insanity looked pretty good.

  The microwave dinged, but Jo didn’t budge. Not an inch.

  He pointed. “Microwave.”

  “I heard it.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m trying to decide if you’ll help me get the picture of that severed hand out of my head. I guess I’m confused. You showed up here after, if the news coverage is accurate, you had a horrendous day. You sent Wasco home, and now I’ve pretty much thrown you every damned mating signal I can think of and you’re still standing there staring at me.”

  He took a small step back. Yeah, that’d help.

  She spun to the microwave. “You can stop backing away, Gabe. I won’t tackle you.”

  Which would be fun.

  She set the hot food on the stove and shoved another platter in the oven before poking one of the numbers on the keypad. “This has been—” another poke, “—a truly sucky day.” She jammed her finger against the keypad again then hit the start button.

  Start button.

  He wrapped his fingers over his forehead and squeezed. Helluva day. “The crime scene guys are running tests on the hand. They’ll…uh…fingerprint it and see if it matches someone in the system.”

  “Did you see it?”

  “Yeah, I stopped by on my way here. Nasty shit.”

  “It was a woman’s hand.”

  He gave up on retreating and inched closer. “Jo, you’ve gotta lay low for a while. No more hits. Please.”

  She glanced down at her casted hand. “What kind of monster does something like that?” She looked back at him and her eyes filled with tears.

  Jo Pomeroy.

  Crying.

  Game over. He took one long stride and pulled her close. Immediately, his body turned rigid. How many nights had he thought about her? About holding her? Running his hands over that amazing body.

  Too many.

  She grabbed onto the back of his T-shirt and squeezed. “Did I deserve that?”

  Ah, jeez.

  “Whoever did this is an animal. Nothing shocks me anymore, but this guy is escalating. He had your hand broken and you didn’t back off. The fact that he sent a severed hand in a Barelli box? No coincidence. Stay off the streets, Jo. No more investigating. No more hits until we find this guy.” He kissed the top of her head and the scent of her shampoo, something clean, like ocean air, bumped his pulse up.

  Back away now.

  He didn’t move. What was the point? They both knew where this was going.

  The microwave dinged, but Jo kept her forehead pressed into Gabe’s chest. If she could just stand here like this, letting him hold her, maybe the chill, that paralyzing freeze that had soaked into her, would disappear.

  Not that she’d ever needed a man to chase away her demons, but this was an unusual circumstance. For one night, she’d like to let someone take care of her. To allow her to be vulnerable without it turning into a power play.

  Tomorrow she’d be herself again. She’d be the woman who wasn’t afraid to break rules to make a difference. Tomorrow she’d wake up and the person who sent that hand would experience how tough Jo Pomeroy could be. She’d find the sick bastard and make sure justice was served.

  Tomorrow.

  Tonight she needed a taste of euphoria to even out her fried edges and obliterate the recurring vision of that hand tumbling out of the box.

  Tonight she’d allow herself to be weak.

  She gripped his T-shirt again. “Are you going to help me forget about that hand or not? I know you want to.”

  Unless the erection poking her belly was an apparition, he really wanted to.

  “This is unfair.”

  Leave it to her to find the one man on the planet who wanted to be a good guy and fight an opportunity to have sex.

  She stepped back and held her hands up. “I see what you’re doing here. You’re trying to be a stand-up guy. I appreciate that, but I know you’re not a pig.”

  He snorted. “Thanks so much for that stunning observation.”

  “I call ‘em like I see ‘em, big boy. Here’s what I propose. We’ll have dinner. A dinner that is probably now cold again, but whatever. We’ll have dinner, have a glass of wine, I’ll tell you about the lacy red bra I’m wearing—”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouted. “That is totally unfair.”

  “I know. But you’re a man, and men are easy when it comes to sex. Trust me, you’ll see this bra and you’ll give in. Laws of nature.” She handed him the platter sitting on the stove. “Take this to the table while I get dishes.”

  He marched to the dining area grumbling about manipulation and trickery. If he thought this was manipulation, wait until she got him naked. “Sergeant, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  From the dining area, he laughed, but not his normal laugh. This one was low and tight. Frustrated. “You know what? Forget it. You’re on, Jo.”

  He stormed back to the kitchen, pushed her against the wall and kissed her. Her mind exploded, every nerve ending sending signals. Here. Not here. Yes. No. All at once they hit her, but she wrapped her arms around him and held on while his kisses incinerated her. Literally fried her mind. No more deep freeze, that’s for sure.

  Then his hands were under her shirt in search of the red lace she’d promised.

  “There it is,” he said. He lifted her shirt, pulled it over her head and tossed it on the counter. His gaze zeroed in on the bra and he grinned. Shark Gabe. “Nice, but take it off. I want the real goods.” He spun her around, unhooked the bra and pressed his body against h
er, pinning her to the wall. From behind, he clasped her hands and squeezed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Still being a good guy. I’m so gone. Racing tingles shot down her legs and she caught her breath, held it a second to enjoy the swirling heat consuming her.

  Mr. August.

  He’s so much more.

  She eased her body from the wall and slowly turned. He kept his gaze on her face. Oh, she knew he wanted to look at her naked torso, but he waited for her to answer. She went on tiptoes and kissed him. Softly. Not like the last one, or the one the other night that should have set the place on fire. This one was gentle and lingering, and she loved the experience of it.

  She backed away from the kiss, hugged him to her. “Yes. I’m sure. Bring it on, Sergeant.”

  Suddenly she was airborne, a second later landing on his shoulder. All she could do was laugh. She had, after all, teased the monster. He carried her down the short hallway to her bedroom and, along the way, used his free hand to shove her stretchy pants off.

  A multitasker. Lucky her.

  When the pants reached her ankles she kicked out of them and let them drop to the floor.

  He kicked the half-closed bedroom door open, got to the bed and put his hands on her back. Gently, he lowered her and stepped back. The wall sconces from the hallway illuminated him and threw shadows across the room.

  Hang on. How the hell did she get ninety-percent naked and he was still fully clothed? Not only that, his dark gaze devoured her. Up and down, up and down, up and down it went.

  “I knew it,” he said. “I knew you’d be exceptional.”

  “Thank the surgeon.”

  His head snapped back. “What?”

  She launched herself forward and unfastened his jeans. “The anticounterfeiting guru has fake boobs. Counterfeit ta-tas.”

  She cracked up. Must be the fatigue, because she’d never found that fact particularly amusing. She’d also only ever admitted it to a handful of people. Two of whom had been men.

  “Wow,” he said.

  She worked his zipper down. “I was always an A cup. Hated it. I wanted boobs, and on my twenty-third birthday decided my A cups needed a boost. Voila. They got a boost.”

  “Nice boost.”

  Again she laughed. What a conversation. “Come on, Sergeant. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  He laughed at her and kicked out of his pants. “Shit. Condom.”

  “On it.” She rolled sideways to the bedside table, flipped the lamp on and pulled out the two boxes of condoms she’d bought.

  “Jo, should I be concerned that you have two boxes of rubbers in your nightstand?”

  “No, dopey. I bought them for you after the insanity known as our first kiss. I figured it was inevitable and wanted to be prepared.” She gestured at his protruding erection. “I guessed at the size. And I wasn’t sure which ones you’d like. The guy at the store told me he likes these.” She pointed to one of the boxes. “But then another guy—a customer shopping in that aisle—said he liked these. So I bought them both. You can pick. I personally don’t have a clue. Just be fast about it.”

  He pressed the fingers of both hands into his forehead. “You are unbelievable. You took a goddamned survey at the drug store?”

  “Hey! Forgive me for caring. A little research never hurts and I certainly couldn’t call you and ask what size condoms you wear.”

  He tore open the first box, the ones marked ecstasy—oh, baby!—and did his thing while she stripped off her underpants.

  “Okay, Mr. August, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “What?”

  She waved it off. “Mr. August, the hottest month on the man candy calendar. That’s you. Except in the calendar you’re not talking. At all. Come on, Sergeant.”

  He shoved her backward and climbed on top of her, trapping her against the mattress. The weight of him, so big and solid and safe, only increased the urgency.

  “Where’s the damned fire?” he asked.

  “I’m hungry. For many things.”

  “My kind of woman.” He nudged his knee between her legs.

  She arched against him, needing the contact, the heat that would drive away the day’s demons and let her feel loved. Then he was inside her, gasping in her ear, and she went crazy. Lost her damned mind in a blast of white sparks. She was so not in control and, for once, loved every second of it.

  They found their rhythm, at first fast and then slower, the easy slide of his body so perfectly suited for her. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.

  He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her. “I knew it. Amazing.”

  Her core tightened. A squeezing, sensual twisting that urged her to pump her hips harder. Gabe was here. With her. Making her crummy day so, so, so much better.

  “I needed this,” she said. “Thank you. Perfect.”

  “Me too.” The sound of his voice, the roughened edges so soft and gentle calmed her chaotic thoughts.

  She looked into his eyes, ran her fingers down his cheek to his shoulder and held on as their pace increased. A coiling sensation wound through her core and she held her breath until, finally, her world exploded.

  Gabe thought a heart attack was imminent. Someone call 9-1-1. Officer down. He heaved out a breath, pulled himself free of Jo’s delectable body and rolled off her.

  No sense crushing her before they were able to do this again.

  “Mission complete.” She snuggled into his side and he flopped his arm over her.

  “Off the charts. I knew it. In fact, I might chain you to this bed.” He caught his breath and rolled to face her. “What do you think? Wanna try it?”

  “Only if you’re chained too.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Kinky.”

  “Uh, fun.”

  She laughed at him, sat up and smacked his leg. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

  But she straddled him and leaned forward so that amazing rack pressed against his chest. “Your body makes me nuts. I’m sending that surgeon a bottle of scotch. The guy’s a genius.”

  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate the endorsement.” She kissed the center of his chest, then rested her cheek there. “Thank you for scaring off my demons.”

  Careful here, buddy. Slippery slope. He could tell her he’d chase away her demons on a daily basis, but knowing her independence, her strength, she’d despise that. He tickled his hand over her spine, massaging as he went. “You chased your own demons. I helped.”

  “Yeah, but you were the one I wanted help from.”

  He smiled and sat up, holding her in place so she didn’t go anywhere and then kissed her. Hard. Like the first time.

  “Anytime, babe. Anytime. Now feed me so I can have at you again.”

  “Oh, my. Ecstasy round two.”

  She leapt off the bed, walked to her closet and grabbed a red silk robe. The lady liked red. She came back to the bed, grabbed his jaw and dropped a kiss on him. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Take your time.”

  Jo left the bedroom and Gabe flopped back on the bed. He could sleep for a month. Right here. Apparently he needed a new mattress, because this king-sized deal Jo had was freaking fantastic.

  He glanced toward the two side-by-side windows. Through the crack in the heavy black drapes, the Manhattan skyline winked at him.

  “I gotta get up,” he muttered.

  His aching body needed rest. And food. And Jo again.

  He levered himself up and glanced around the room. Not surprising, it screamed of Jo. She’d managed to fit a white loveseat in the corner of a roughly fourteen by fourteen room. Red pillows added a blast of color to the stark white. The walls were a subtle white, maybe a little pink thrown in. He wasn’t sure, but it was oddly perfect. He stood and straightened the funky black and white comforter and his gaze zoomed in on the triangular pattern. Eventually, the lines blurred and he blinked.

  He retrieved his underwear from the floor and slipped them on. The jeans came next. Hi
s shirt was somewhere. He rolled to the other side of the bed and found it on the floor.

  Insanity. All of it. The sex. Sex with Jo.

  What were they doing? He shook his head. Getting busy with each other might embarrass them both. Worse, it might screw them up on the job. He couldn’t be worried about her all the time. Nor could he be arguing with her about laying low. Not with what he did for a living. When hitting a building, he needed to concentrate on the bad guys.

  He shoved his arms into his shirt and pulled it on.

  Too late now. Whatever this was, they were in it. Together.

  Chapter Seven

  Gabe twisted the shower knob and grabbed a towel off Jo’s fancy rack inside the oversized stall. This shower would suit him well. He didn’t have the room in his midget bathroom, but the multiple body sprays would do wonders when his overworked body ached.

  It wouldn’t hurt to have Jo join him in there either.

  He’d let her sleep though. 5:00 a.m. came early for some. Plus, time was running short and Gabe wanted to be outside the front door before Ramirez showed up for his security detail.

  Soon enough, the team would figure out Gabe was getting busy with Jo, but he was in no rush for that.

  Containment. That’s what they needed. At least until he figured out where this thing was heading. For a guy who lived a relatively simple life, things had suddenly gotten a whole lot more complicated.

  He didn’t need complicated. He had enough of that on the job. He tossed the towel over his head and rubbed. His short hair only took a few minutes to dry. If he timed it right, Ramirez would see him in the hallway wearing the same uniform from yesterday. What Ramirez wouldn’t know is that Gabe had showered and put on the fresh uniform he kept in his car for emergencies.

  For insurance, he balled up his pants and shirt to wrinkle them before dressing.

  Not wanting to disturb Jo, he slapped the bathroom light off before opening the door. Should he leave, or nudge her and let her know? Damn, he hated to wake her after he’d kept her up half the night.