by Wendy Haley
“They could buy and sell their own properties,” they said in unison.
“Who owned Krueger originally? Someone bought it recently-who?” Gabriel ticked points off on his fingers. “How many properties did Krueger buy? And where are they?”
Rae turned back around and started typing again. Silence fell, broken only by the tapping of her fingers on the keyboard. Still, the air fairly crackled with energy. Rae knew it for what it was: the thrill of the chase. Gabriel was a puzzle-solver, just like she was.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the screen. “Three more corporations to add to the tangle.”
“Hey, why not?” Gabriel countered. “Pile it all on. After all, this is already twisted beyond belief.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Do you have any access to banking information?”
“Why?”
“I’d like to know if a lump-sum amount of twenty thousand dollars has run through Peter Smithfield’s account recently.”
“Darlin’, the only account Smithfield keeps is with the gambling boss—” Gabriel broke off suddenly as he realized the significance of her question. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because someone sent me a twenty-thousand-dollar bribe.”
Gabriel knew his blood pressure must be life threatening just now. A bribe. “What bribe?” he inquired with what he felt was admirable calmness under the circumstances.
“Somebody dropped an envelope with twenty hundred-dollar bills in my mail slot,” she said. “And a note that said, ‘A prudent woman knows when to back off,’ or something like that.”
“It never occurred to you to mention it?”
She shot him a glance over her shoulder. “You weren’t exactly forthcoming with information yourself.”
“You should have told me,” he growled.
“Come on, MacLaren. If I had told you about it, you’d have become all officious and bureaucratic. Then the moment passed, and I sort of got distracted.”
He scowled, brooding over that. “I would not have become officious. I would have become protective.”
“That’s worse,” she countered. “The last time you got protective, I nearly had to watch you get run over.”
Gabriel’s cellular rang. With a wordless growl, he flipped the phone open. “MacLaren,” he snarled.
His partner’s familiar voice came over the line. “I’ve been trying to get you for hours,” Eddy complained. “Remember that gambling house we staked out on Riverwalk Drive? Well, last night our people saw Smithfield go in, but they never saw him come out again.”
Gabriel stiffened. “Didn’t they go in after him?”
“Not for a while. We’ve got to clear everything through Roth now, and he wasn’t available for a couple of hours. Once we got permission, we went in. And found zip. Tables, Smithfield, nothing—the place looked like a preacher’s house.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel growled, flipping the phone closed. He stood for a moment, just thinking. Then he went to Rae and spun her chair around so that she was facing him. “Peter Smithfield just ran out of time.”
Her warm-sherry eyes narrowed. “They snatched him?”
“Last night.”
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“This is taking too long,” he said, glancing at the computer. “You’re going to have to get a list of all the realty transfers made in the past five years. Then integrate it with the list of corporations to see if any name comes up more than once.”
“True,” she agreed.
He straightened. “Honey-child, I’m checking out of the Information Age and returning to plain old police work. There’s an answer in here somewhere, something so simple it’ll be embarrassing once. I spot it. But you’re throwing me so much information that it’s blinding me.”
“There’s no such thing as too much information,” Rae countered.
He fixed her with a challenging stare. “Tell you what. I’ll take what we’ve got right here, right now, and run it down my way. We’ll see who comes up with the answer first.”
“Gee, Detective, don’t you want to place a bet or something?” she drawled.
“Sure,” he countered, surprising her.
“And what do you want to bet?”
So swiftly that she had no time to protest, he slid one arm around her and pulled her close. Even if she weren’t pressed up against his hard body, she would have had trouble breathing. His gaze burned into hers. Of their own volition, her eyelids drifted downward. Her body felt heavy and too warm, as though she’d been drugged by his presence.
“I’ll bet everything,” he murmured, so close that his breath brushed warm across her mouth.
Rae had lost the ability to speak. She hung unresisting in his embrace as he leaned closer, closer still. Then he claimed her mouth. Slowly. Deeply. Completely. Her body thrummed with arousal, acknowledging his claim. When he let her go, she nearly fell back into her chair.
And then he was gone.
She sat stunned, feeling as though she’d been swept up by a tornado and spun until nothing made sense any longer. Surely Gabriel MacLaren was the most confusing man ever born!
But Rae Boudreau had never backed away from a challenge yet, and she wasn’t about to start now. She turned to her computer.
“Too much information, indeed!” she muttered.
It took her a couple of hours to get the list of realty transfers. She copied it into four different files and sorted each one by name, date, buyer, seller and agent. Her breath went out sharply as she finally realized the full scope of the picture. She printed what was on the screen, then sat back in her chair, feeling as though all her bones had turned to mush.
Krueger had been the agent for several of the known gambling houses. Three others had been bought within the past six months, none of which the police department had known about.
And one belonged to Peter Smithfield.
“They’re not going to kill him until he signs that house over to them,” Rae said aloud. Then she added, “Unless they get scared enough.”
She grabbed for the phone. The time had come to forget the competition between her and Gabriel. He needed this information to save Peter Smithfield, and fast. She dialed his cellular number. The phone rang and rang, but he didn’t answer.
Quickly, she jotted down the three addresses. Then she got up and got her .380 out of her purse and tucked it into her waistband.
“I’ve got to do it myself,” she muttered.
She wasn’t afraid. Not really. But for the first time in her life, she wished she had someone with her. No, she admitted, not just anyone...she wanted Gabriel.
The outer door swung open. Rae, her nerves twanging, whirled, pistol in hand.
Gabriel stood framed in the doorway, his wide shoulders almost filling the opening. Relief washed through her in a warm flood.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, hiding her joy at seeing him beneath a scowl. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
“Yes,” he agreed, his ice blue gaze settling on her pistol. “But I wanted to see what you were doing.”
She slid the little gun back into her waistband. “And?”
“And.” Satisfaction curved his mouth upward. “Rauter Street. Holland Drive. St. James Street.”
Those were the addresses of the three houses she’d found. “How did you get those?” she demanded.
“Sweetheart, I told you there was a simple solution,” he said. “Since this case is political, and this an election year, I merely checked the lists of contributions made to all the people running for office. I found which candidate held contributions made by companies on our hit list. From there, I traced real estate holdings, and voilà!”
“Good for you,” she said. “So it’s a tie.”
“Uh-huh. We both win.” His smile broadened. “And where do you think you’re going, beautiful Rae?”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
She scowled. “Yes, I am. I’ve got business with Peter Smithfield.”
“No.”
Rae put her nose in the air and started to walk past him. His hand clamped down on her wrist, and a moment later she felt the touch of cold metal on her skin.
“Don’t you dare!” she cried.
“Save it, honey-child,” he replied, chuckling as he snapped the handcuff closed.
Keeping a firm grip on her, he looked around the office for a good place to stash her. She didn’t want to come. But there were definite advantages to superior size and strength, and Gabriel was willing to use all of them. Tucking her under his arm like a sack of grain, he hauled her over to the desk and snapped the other end of the cuff onto the heavy metal leg.
He stepped back to survey his work. She’d have to lift the entire desk, computer and all, to get out.
“Damn you,” she raged.
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her levelly. Oh, she was mad! He could almost feel the crackle of her anger like lightning in the room.
“I wish I was sorry about this, Rae, but I’m not,” he said. “This is going to be dangerous enough without me having to worry about you. That’s it. End of story.”
“You arrogant—”
“I admit it,” he said. “Damn, I had a pretty speech all laid out and I’ve forgotten it. But here’s the gist. We’ve got a real thing on our hands, Rae. I don’t know what to call it, and I’m damned unsure what to do about it, but one thing I’m sure of is that I want to be with you.”
Rae had already opened her mouth to protest, but the words died in her throat when she realized what he’d said. “What?”
“You heard me,” he growled. “I want you, you want me and it’s the biggest, most powerful thing I’ve ever felt. We can’t stay away from each other, and I’m not going to try anymore.”
She drew her breath in so deeply she got dizzy. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes that made her feel so strange. Then fury came flooding in on a red-hot tide, and she tugged noisily on the handcuffs.
“You let me out of these, MacLaren,” she snapped. “Damn you, how dare you tell me something like that while I’m stuck—”
He strode to her, snatching her close with an aggressive tenderness that dried the words in her throat. Then he kissed her. Hard. Long. Completely. A shock wave of sensation rolled through her, and she was helpless to stop him. Or herself. Before she quite knew what was happening, her arms had crept around him, pulling him closer still.
When he finally broke the kiss, she hung unresisting in his arms. She felt as though her mind had gone floating off into a rose-colored fog, leaving her body stranded in a riptide of sensation.
“Rae,” he murmured, “look at me.”
She was almost afraid. Almost. But her spirit knew, as perhaps it had always known, that she would be safe with him. Her breath caught in her throat as she obeyed.
His heart and soul blazed in his eyes. It wasn’t a gentle sort of emotion—that wasn’t possible with a man like him—but a wild, tempestuous, all-consuming passion. She lost herself in his eyes, and in her own desire.
“I don’t believe you got me suspended,” he whispered, his voice as intense as his eyes. “I don’t believe any of those things they said about you hounding your ex-husband off the force.”
“I—”
“Let me talk for once,” he growled. “I’ve got no evidence, no facts, nothing but what I see in your eyes. And that’s enough. Damn it, it shouldn’t be, but it is.”
“Will you stop—?”
“I will not stop. You fill my dreams and my waking hours, and I want you so badly I shake every time I get near you.”
“Look, MacLaren—”
“I just wanted you to know how I felt, Rae,” he said, letting her go so abruptly she didn’t have a chance to grab him. “Now, I’ve got a job to do. Wish me luck.”
He strode out of the office, closing the door behind him. Rae jerked on the handcuffs so hard the metal grated.
“Don’t you dare walk out now,” she panted. “Come back here and finish this, you arrogant, infuriating, self-righteous... Oh, God, something might happen to you, and I never got the chance to tell you that I love you.”
“MacLaren!” she shouted, pulling on the cuffs with all her strength. “MacLaren! ”
Of course, he didn’t come back. The rat. Frantically, Rae glanced around for her purse, hoping she’d dropped it somewhere close. She spotted it beside the sofa, a good five feet away.
“Mr. Know-It-All MacLaren,” she muttered. “Never thought to look for a spare set of locksmith’s tools, did you?”
She smiled a not very nice smile, anticipating the moment when she showed up in spite of him. Arrogant so-and-so that he was, he deserved a comeuppance. He’d put her through hell. But oh, had he ever come through when it mattered! In those few brief moments when he’d opened his soul to her, he had given her everything she’d ever wanted, things she’d never known she’d needed until he’d come into her life.
And she’d been handcuffed.
“You aren’t going to leave me behind like this,” she said, planting her feet and giving another jerk on the cuffs.
The desk budged about half a millimeter. She tugged again, and gained another fraction of an inch. That was when she got mad.
Taking a firm grip on the links with both hands, she pulled with all her strength. This time, she gained an inch.
“If my computer falls off, I’ll... I’ll...” She couldn’t think of anything bad enough. “Damn you, MacLaren. If you think for one moment I’m going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs until you come to collect me, then you’ve...got... another... think...coming.”
The last few words were punctuated by a jerk on the handcuffs. Panting, she took a short break. Then she started pulling again, each time gaining a precious inch. Each one upped her determination a notch, as well. Even if the stakes weren’t this high, she would have died before giving up.
Finally, she’d moved close enough to reach the purse with her foot—maybe. She lay on the floor, extending her cuffed arm as far as possible, then easing her foot under the strap of the purse.
“There!” she gasped, pulling the purse toward her.
It only took her a couple of minutes to release herself. Police handcuffs were ridiculously easy to pick. Scrambling to her feet, she printed out another copy of those three addresses.
Gabriel was bound to take them in order, first to last, because he had no reason to do otherwise. Rae, however, was going to take the last first, because...because she had no reason to do what Gabriel did. Chuckling at her own logic, she thrust a couple of twenties into her pocket and headed for the door.
Her laughter soon faded, however, as worry came creeping through her mind on cold, clammy feet. Gabriel wouldn’t call for backup until he found Peter Smithfield, knowing that someone in the department couldn’t be trusted.
So Gabriel, that... that brave, magnificent idiot, was going to walk in alone, and trust that he’d have time to call for help if he needed it.
“Do I know cops, or do I know cops?” she asked.
Maybe not all cops, she amended silently. But she knew that one. Gabriel MacLaren—stubborn, arrogant, infuriating, incredibly sexy and man enough to strip his heart bare so that she could see how deeply he cared. Somehow, they’d been meant for each other from the beginning of time, and had Hailed away at life until that night when their gazes had met and their souls had joined.
In their blindness, they had nearly thrown it all away. They had ignored their hearts and listened to logic, which only recognized facts and figures, never Fate. It had been close, so close. But somehow, they’d both come to see the truth.
Her mood turned grim as she checked her pistol, making sure the magazine was fully loaded, and shifted it out of sight in the back of her waistband.
Gabriel MacLaren was her love, her lover, the mate of her spirit, and loving him had made her whole.
S
he intended to keep him.
Chapter 17
Rae had the taxi stop a block away from the house. She went the rest of the way on foot, walking casually down the opposite sidewalk as though she belonged there.
This was. a neighborhood in upward transition. Many of the large, 1930s-vintage brick homes had been allowed to fall into disrepair, but a few shrewd people had begun buying them and fixing them up. In a couple of years, this area would be very like Georgetown in Washington, D.C.
She bent to tie her shoe, giving herself time to take a good, long look at the place. The brick exterior. had been power-washed, and the wood trim freshly painted. She could see a little of the inside from here, and it had obviously been renovated.
“Interesting,” she muttered. “Verrrry interesting.”
According to the printout, Krueger Realty had bought this house, number 23, and sold it a month and a half later to one Donald Culpepper. At a loss. If she guessed right, Krueger Realty had spent thirty or forty thousand renovating the place before selling it at a loss. Uh-huh. Money-laundering, maybe? If so, the Feds would like to know.
“‘What a tangled web we weave...’ Say, what have we here?” she muttered as a black Lexus pulled up in front.
Two men got out of the back and went inside. She couldn’t see their faces. But since the driver had noticed her, she continued walking. Spotting a liquor store a half block farther on, she went inside and browsed through the stock nearest the window.
A minute or so later, the two men came out again. The Lexus passed the store and turned right at the next corner. Rae had the feeling that a decision had been made, orders given.
She had to get in that house.
The proprietor was staring at her as though she might be an ax murderer, so she bought a bottle at random from a nearby display. Obviously mollified by charging her fourteen-fifty for a five-dollar bottle of champagne, the man even smiled at her as she left.
Fortunately, there were alleys behind these old houses. She took a roundabout way to the rear of number 23. From here, she could see into the kitchen. It looked like a regular kitchen, but there was no wallpaper, no canisters on the counter, no baskets or trivets or any of the clutter that marked a lived-in house.