by Cara Summers
“Let’s try this instead.” He covered her mouth with his.
4
THE KISS WASN’T AT ALL what she’d been expecting. There were storms inside this man. She’d sensed them, seen them in his eyes, and she’d anticipated that his mouth would be hard, demanding, and that it would set off answering storms in her. Instead, he barely brushed his lips against hers.
J.C. moistened her lips with her tongue and tasted him. His flavor reminded her of something rich and forbidden. When she leaned closer for more, he released one of her hands and raised his to cup the back of her neck. Then he took his time, sampling, nipping, tracing the shape of her mouth with his tongue. A stream of thick, liquefying pleasure moved through her. His mouth was so soft, so warm. She could feel her blood heat, her muscles grow lax, her bones begin to melt.
When he drew away, she grabbed his shoulder with her free hand, absorbed the sensations of smooth, hot skin and hard muscle. “More.”
“I’m with you there, Pipsqueak,” Nik murmured as he leaned in again.
This time the kiss wasn’t quite so gentle. And she didn’t want it to be. His body was so lean and hard. And his hands—she could feel the pressure of each individual finger. But they weren’t where she wanted them to be. Still the storm she’d expected, was beginning to crave, was building.
More. The sound of the word, the tone she’d used became a drumbeat in Nik’s head. He’d intended to keep the kiss gentle, exploratory, but there was something inside of him that badly wanted to break free. When he nipped her bottom lip and heard her quick gasp, he very nearly released it.
On some level, he knew that he was losing his mind. Kissing a material witness to a murder when he should be walking the crime scene? He had to stop right now—but he didn’t. Shifting onto his knees, he drew her up to hers and pulled her closer until her body was molded to his, soft and yielding. Heat flared. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, and he took the kiss deeper, devouring her.
Each little response—her throaty moan, the movement of her tongue on his—fueled the fire that was growing within him. She was so responsive, so generous. Her flavors weren’t sweet. He’d been right about that. But he hadn’t expected the endless variety that he was discovering as he probed one recess after another. Her mouth was every bit as eager and demanding as his.
Her body trembled, and in one quick move that shuddered through his system, she wiggled onto his lap until her thighs straddled his. He heard his heartbeat raging in his chest as he plunged deeper still.
More, more, more.
Need clawed through him. Anything he asked, she would give him. He could feel his control slipping and he at last found the strength to pull back.
They were both gasping for breath, both trembling. Nik wanted nothing more than to grab her again and finish what he’d started. Her eyes were dark, misted with pleasure. Pleasure that he’d given her, pleasure that he wanted—no, needed—to give her again.
“What—?” The word came out on a breath, and she shook her head as if to clear it.
His reckless streak threatened to break loose again. He could have her. He could shut the door all the way, turn the lock and take her. It would be wild and crazy and…absolutely impossible.
Dammit. He had a job to do, and she was interfering. He eased her back onto her knees. When he rose, he didn’t like it at all that his own knees felt weak.
“Where are you going?”
Her voice was stronger now. He hoped that his would be, too. “It’s been fun, Pipsqueak, but I have to do my job.”
He walked out, pulling the door behind him and heard the thud of what he suspected was the little silver bowl as it made contact with the wood and plunked to the floor.
Nik almost grinned. Kissing J.C. Riley had been a mistake. Big-time. Instead of getting her out of his system, he’d embedded her in it—deep. He was going to have to figure out just what to do about that.
But first, he was going to do just what he’d said. His job. And number one on his list was bringing his captain up to date on what he knew or had surmised so far. He punched numbers into his phone as he strode back to the altar.
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Nik and Kit were studying the taped outline where Roman Oliver’s body had lain only a short time before. Nik had known when he’d called his brother that Kit would come immediately, and it had helped him to talk to Kit and to view the evidence through a second set of eyes. A glance at his brother’s face told him that Kit was thinking the same thing that he was thinking.
There was no way around it. Roman was involved in what had gone on here. Sadie Oliver might be involved also. She hadn’t come with either Roman or her sister Juliana—J.C. would have spotted her if she had. She’d probably come in through the front entrance. Now she and the bride and groom were all missing, and her purse had been left behind.
The best scenario Nik could come up with so far was that Roman had gotten wind of the wedding and had come to the church to talk his sister out of it. Then he’d gotten into a fight with Paulo Carlucci, and had shot the man in the sacristy, hopefully in self-defense. Then he’d followed Paulo up the stairs into the choir loft, where they’d struggled again and Roman had fallen or been pushed down the stairs.
He didn’t have a theory about what part Sadie had played in all of this. But it wasn’t going to look good to his captain that she’d left the scene of a crime. When he’d first gotten the call, the dispatcher had mentioned two 911 calls. He’d be able to find out if one had come from Sadie.
He shifted his gaze to the choir loft overhead. Of course, once one started theorizing about the blood on the walls of that little storeroom and the presence of J.C. Riley’s Snake Eyes, the scenario got worse because it suggested that Kit’s best friend and the man who’d once saved his sister’s life had come here with murder in mind, and he’d brought some extra firepower with him.
Nik had a hunch that his captain was going to favor the latter scenario. Hell, he’d favor it himself if he didn’t know Roman.
He studied the frown on Kit’s face and knew that his brother’s mind was traveling along the same path.
There was going to be pressure to close the case as quickly as possible. No one wanted any violence to erupt between the Oliver and Carlucci families. Sure, they’d been legit for half a century now, but Mediterranean blood ran hot. He ought to know, being Greek.
The press, once they got wind of it, was going to have a field day. The secret wedding of the children of two rival families, murder and mayhem—not to mention the disappearance of the bridal couple—was fodder for the kind of media circus that would keep the twenty-four-hour news channels going for days.
“Mind if I take a look at that room upstairs?” Kit asked.
Reining his thoughts in, Nik sent his brother a frown. “Of course I mind.” But wasn’t that why he’d called Kit in the first place—to fill his brother in on the evidence? He didn’t want to believe that Roman Oliver was behind this any more than Kit did. More than that, he wanted to make sure that Roman had someone working on the case who was on his side. As a cop, he had to be objective, do his job. A P.I. had a lot more leeway. “When has that ever stopped you once you set your mind on something?”
“Never.”
Still scowling, Nik handed Kit a pair of shoe covers. “The room’s at the top of the stairs. Don’t get in the way of my people, and don’t touch a thing.”
“Thanks, bro. I’ll be careful.”
Just then, the front door of the church blew open behind them, and a voice boomed, “There you are, Detective Angelis.”
“Shit,” Nik muttered under his breath. “It’s the commissioner and my captain. Make it quick up there. There’s a second staircase from the loft that leads down to the sacristy. Use it when you leave.”
J.C. YANKED ON THE HANDCUFFS for about the tenth time. With each tug, she’d entertained the hope that she might be able to break free. Her Grandmother Riley had always told her to dream big. Evidently, getting out of
police issue handcuffs was too big a dream.
Too bad Detective Angelis’s brother Kit hadn’t been carrying a spare key because he would have helped her. Although her conversation with him when he’d stumbled across her in the stairwell had been brief, she’d found Kit Angelis to be both kind and charming. She’d even accused him of being the “good cop” Nik had sent in to interrogate her. But unless she missed her guess, Kit Angelis had come to St. Peter’s with an agenda of his own.
And except for the pretty face and those incredibly blue eyes, she wouldn’t have guessed that the two men were even remotely related. When Nik Angelis had tapped the family gene pool, he’d passed on kindness and charm and loaded up on arrogance and rudeness instead.
Scowling at the radiator, J.C. vowed that she was going to make Detective Nik Angelis pay for his high-handed treatment of her. The little room he’d imprisoned her in was hot and stuffy. And he’d closed the door on her, so that the window air conditioner that had been fighting heroically to cool the sacristy couldn’t even reach her. At least Kit had propped the door open when he’d left. But so far the cooler air hadn’t made much progress into the room.
Worst of all, the handcuffs didn’t even allow her to pace her anger off. There was no way that she was going to let Nik Angelis get away with this. Even if he had kissed her into a puddle of lust.
Okay, that could be the true cause of her anger with the hunky detective, J.C. silently admitted. Or perhaps it was because he’d stopped kissing her and sauntered off to do his job as if he did that kind of kissing every day and it didn’t affect him in the least.
The problem was he’d simply destroyed her. Maybe had ruined her life. What if she never met another man who could make her feel that way?
Oh, God. She sat down on the radiator and dropped her head in her hands. The absolute worst of it was she wanted him to kiss her again. It didn’t even seem to matter that on some level, she hated his guts.
The fact that she’d reacted to him the way she had simply didn’t make sense. Unless it was due to an adrenaline rush. At the idea, her spirits perked up. Maybe that was it—because Nik Angelis was definitely not her type. He had a ton of qualities she didn’t like in a man. He was pushy and impossible. Just like her father.
Oh, she loved her father dearly, but he was an Olympic contender when it came to manipulation and getting his own way. Patrick Riley was a big, gruff bear of a man whose hero in life was Joe Kennedy, and like J.F.K.’s dad, he wanted to found a dynasty. His second marriage to Alicia Hensen, heiress and socialite, had brought an aura of prestige and money to his political aspirations, and now he wanted his children married and bearing children. And her stepmother, oddly enough, was cut from the same cloth. They gave lie to the theory that opposites attract.
Her current plan as far as her parents were concerned, was to fly under both of their radar screens by devoting all of her energy to building up the reputation of her catering business. “Have an Affair With J.C.” wasn’t the talk of San Francisco yet, but it would be. In the meantime, it kept her too busy to date the sophisticated, eligible and incredibly boring males her stepmother was volleying at her like so many tennis balls.
Her two older brothers had fallen in and they’d already produced two grandchildren each. Her younger brothers, the twins, were finishing at Annapolis and had been granted a reprieve. That meant that Patrick and Alicia Harwood Riley were focused on her. She’d managed to slip out of their sights for a year by attending culinary school in New York. But now that she was back in San Francisco, her only excuse was her work. The weddings she was catering thanks to Father Mike were little plums that fate had dropped right into her lap, especially because they occurred on the weekends—prime date time.
The thought of Father Mike had her stomach sinking, and once again she pictured those seconds that had seemed to happen in slow motion—the flash of fire and the deafening sound of the gun going off. She didn’t even know how serious Father Mike’s condition was. The least that Detective Nik Angelis could do would be to come back and fill her in.
Sensitivity was obviously another quality he’d missed when he’d dipped into the Angelis gene pool. She glanced down at her cuffs. He would have to come back to release her, and when he did, she would have a grip on herself.
Her adrenaline had settled. Reaching into her pocket, she took out a sugar-coated almond and popped it into her mouth. Once he’d released her from the handcuffs, she’d go her way and he’d go his.
J.C. frowned down at the handcuffs. Just as soon as she paid him back in spades.
“WHAT WE’VE GOT HERE is a time bomb,” Commissioner Galvin said. “Do you think any of it has leaked yet, Angelis?”
“Hard to say, sir.” Nik led the way up the aisle of the church. He’d already shown them the small room in the choir loft. “I’ve given orders to the officers, but the EMTs don’t work for the SFPD.”
“What’s your take, Parker?”
Nik’s boss, D.C. Parker, nodded in his direction. “I agree with Angelis. We’ve got two missing kids, a wounded priest and a dead man. And we’ve got Roman Oliver, the older brother of the bride-to-be who had plenty of motivation to put a stop to the wedding and who seems to be involved. We don’t know what role the older sister played, but the fact that she left doesn’t look good.”
“She left her purse behind,” Nik pointed out. “In my experience, a woman rarely does that. Maybe in her rush to help the bride and groom escape, she didn’t have time to retrieve it.”
“Nice theory, Detective,” Parker said. “And in that case, we’ll hear from her soon. Before the media gets hold of this and focuses on a more headline-grabbing explanation for her disappearance.”
“The media will turn this whole thing into a circus,” Galvin said. “We need to find the bride and groom fast.”
“I agree.” Nik had known that neither his captain nor the commissioner would be happy about the situation. D.C. Parker was a political player, but he was also a good cop. Commissioner Galvin, on the other hand, had his eye on advancement. The word was that he was using his position as a stepping stone to the mayor’s office and perhaps one day the governor’s job. “The priest said that someone wanted to kill the bride and groom.”
“But Roman Oliver is in the hospital. Shouldn’t they be safe?” Commissioner Galvin asked.
“We don’t know that Roman is behind this,” Nik noted.
“He’s our prime suspect,” Galvin pointed out.
“Perhaps, but there’s a lot we don’t know,” Nik said. “Even if Roman is behind it, that puts him at risk if the Carlucci family decides to retaliate. I sent two men with him in the ambulance. We’ll need to post men twenty-four-seven on both him and Father Mike.”
“Right. Good thinking,” Galvin said. “What about the other eyewitness—the caterer?”
“She’ll need protection, too, of course. The man who shot Father Mike knows that she can ID him. He took off his ski mask when she hit him with her cell phone.” Nik ushered the two men through the sacristy and into the small anteroom where he’d left J.C. She was seated on the radiator, and she shot him a look that nearly seared his skin.
Then her expression completely changed, and he watched in astonishment as she beamed a smile at the commissioner. “Uncle Chad? Is that you?”
“Jude Catherine? What are you doing here?” Commissioner Galvin moved forward and enveloped J.C. in a huge hug. When she tried to hug him back, her handcuffs clanged against the radiator pipe.
“What’s all this?” Galvin frowned down at the handcuffs and then turned to Nik. “Why is my godchild in handcuffs?”
“Yes, Detective Angelis, I’m wondering that myself,” Parker said.
“Mayor Riley is not going to be happy about this.” Galvin shot a look at Parker and then at Nik. “I’m not going to enjoy explaining to him that a detective on my force handcuffed his only daughter.”
Nik shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. Didn’t that just figure? The litt
le redhead was the commissioner’s godchild and Mayor Riley’s daughter. That certainly explained her habit of ordering people around.
Parker muttered under his breath, “An explanation, Angelis.”
Before Nik could reply, J.C. answered, “He fastened me to the radiator to keep me safe while he concentrated on the crime scene. He said he didn’t want me mucking it up. He was only doing his job.”
“Oh.” Galvin turned his attention back to J.C. “But that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”
Nik simply stared at her. She’d just done her best to save his skin. He couldn’t identify the emotions surging through him as he watched her straighten her shoulders and lift her chin.
“I’m the caterer. I’ve been running my own business for almost a year now, Uncle Chad.”
“Your father has never mentioned it,” Galvin said.
“No—”
“Wait,” Galvin interrupted and turned to Nik. “Are you telling me this is the caterer who can identify the man who shot the priest?”
“The one and only,” Nik said.
“She’ll need protection,” Galvin instructed Parker. “I want you to put your best man on her twenty-four-seven. That’s what her father will demand when I talk to him.”
“You’re looking at my best man.” Parker jerked his head toward Nik.
“Him?” Galvin and J.C. spoke in unison.
“The one and only,” Parker replied.
Galvin looked Nik up and down. Then he slowly smiled. “Well, I guess if he managed to handcuff her to a radiator, he can handle her.”
Nik met Parker’s eyes. “Sir, this is my case. And you want me to babysit her?”
“You’ve got your assignment, Angelis. I’ll handle the case personally. Your job is to stick to Ms. Riley like glue until we can wrap this up.”
Shit, Nike thought as he looked at J.C. And if he read her expression right, she was thinking the same thing. This was not only the case of the century, it was one that involved someone close to his family—and he had to babysit the mayor’s daughter.