Nick was, too.
After putting out some calls, Nick was surprised to see how much time had passed. Once he started digging, he often lost track of time. He stood up and stretched, wincing when his joints protested with audible pops. While he was waiting to hear back from his contacts, he figured it was as good a time as any to check in with the kids and squeeze in a quick workout. And this time, he would make sure his path crossed with Mack’s.
The leggy blonde — Delilah — was at the reception desk when he entered. Nick had seen her around Seize several times; she seemed to gravitate toward areas with a heavy concentration of men. He tried to avoid her whenever possible, but like the proverbial bad penny, she kept showing up.
Today she was wearing her usual scowl, paying more attention to her phone than the customers coming and going. He thought he’d be able to slip by unnoticed, but in a classic case of bad timing, she looked up as he was making his way across the lobby.
“Detective!” she purred. She rose from the chair in a move of smooth, feminine grace. Her eyes burned with predatory interest as she leaned over the desk, showcasing her low-cut, skin-tight top. “It’s so nice to see you again.”
‘Nice’ wasn’t the word he would choose. She reminded him too much of Eve Sanderson. Not just in physical appearance, but in behavior as well. She had the same calculating gleam and used her feminine assets to get what she wanted.
Based on what he’d heard, she often did.
In fact, Delilah was a common topic in the men’s locker room. He wasn’t the only one she’d flirted with. Several had openly wondered why Mack — who reputedly had zero tolerance for that kind of thing — didn’t fire her outright. That was when one of the guys revealed that Delilah was actually Mack’s stepsister, and the only reason she kept Delilah around was as a personal favor to her father.
Nick felt a flash of irritation on Mack’s behalf. If that were true (and he had no reason to believe it wasn’t), that was a hell of a situation to put someone in, family or not.
“The Covendale PD is so lucky to have you,” Delilah said. “I read about what you did last year. You’re a bona fide hero!”
Nick grimaced, able to guess what she was referring to. That had been a shit show all around. A double-crossing informant had fed them some bad info, turning an eight-month sting operation into a deadly trap meant to obliterate their whole vice team. Thankfully, Nick had some (far more reliable) sources of his own who tipped him off, and he managed to get there just as they were about to storm the multi-million dollar, underground pharmaceutical lab. The guy in charge, an arrogant, self-important asshole named Carter, had refused to listen and just seconds after the first men entered the facility, the place blew. Nick managed to pull a couple guys to safety, but he was by no means the only one. The papers, however, credited him with saving not only the lives of those who he’d carried out, but also the dozens of others who would have been inside had he not delayed the operation by arguing with Carter.
Two good men died in that explosion, several more had been injured, and Carter had been relieved of his command. There was nothing heroic about it.
“I read about what happened around here, too,” she added, lowering her voice, her predatory grin turning to one offering false comfort. “You must have been devastated. It must be really hard on you, coming back here. I’m a good listener, if you ever need to ... talk.”
Nick ground his molars, unwilling to hear any more of what Delilah had to say. “I’m looking for Mack. Is she around?”
Delilah’s eyes flashed. Just that quickly, her sympathetic smile morphed into a well-practiced pout. “I haven’t seen her.”
She was lying, Nick was certain of it. Another thing he was certain of? Delilah didn’t like being blown off.
He didn’t bother thanking her, resolving to find Mack on his own.
He swung by the teen center first, but Mack wasn’t there. He declined an offer of a pick-up game and asked the kids if they’d seen Mack. That’s how he discovered she was sparring down in one of the MMA rooms.
“Awesome, Fucker. Thanks,” Mack said, her voice laced with genuine affection as she tugged off her gloves. The towering blond Viking shot her a brilliant smile and offered her a casual salute. “Anytime, Mack.”
Nick, who had caught the last few minutes of the session, blinked in disbelief.
“You call him Fucker?” he asked, following Mack away from the mats. The woman barely came up to the Thor lookalike’s chest, yet she’d managed to hold her own, using her small size and impressive knowledge of leverage to her advantage.
“He’s Norwegian,” she shrugged, as if that explained it all.
“So? You got something against Norwegians?”
She rolled her eyes. Again, he found that one small action arousing, just as he did the sheen of perspiration shimmering over her skin and the wisps of hair that clung to the base of her neck, showcasing that heart-shaped mark beneath her jaunty ponytail. In fact, he found nearly everything about Mack arousing. But his appreciation went deeper than that. He wanted to learn more about the intriguing woman inside the enticing package.
“His name is Lars Volker,” she told him. “Volker, with a “V”, but when he says it in his Scandinavian accent—the way it was meant to be said—it sounds more like ‘fucker’ in English.”
Well, he supposed that made sense. “He doesn’t mind?”
She tilted her head back and drank deeply from her water bottle. Nick had to force his eyes away from the way her throat, shiny and slick with moisture, moved up and down with the action. Not his best idea, since his gaze naturally dropped to her well-endowed chest, her sweaty ‘Seize the Day’ tank plastered against all that perfectly smooth, lickable skin. The woman wasn’t even trying and she was making him hard. On the plus side, she didn’t seem to be openly avoiding him as he had suspected earlier that morning.
“No. I think he likes it. Makes him feel like a badass.” When Mack grinned, her whole face lit up, making him feel like smiling, too. “Besides, there are worse nicknames than that.”
“Yeah? Like what?” He liked this playful banter. He liked talking to her, anticipating what she would say next. “Well, this one guy was named Joel Lipschitz, and they called him—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry I asked.”
She grinned again, her eyes twinkling with a little bit of mischief and a whole lot of naughty. “And then there was this Asian guy. One hell of a demolitions expert, best I’ve ever seen. We called him Nads.”
“Jesus, do I even want to know?”
“Probably not. His actual name was Hung Lo.”
It took a moment for him to make the connection, but when he did, he nearly doubled over in laughter. God, he liked this woman! Just five minutes with her and he felt lighter, more alive than he had in weeks.
“What about you?” he teased when he could speak again. “Did you have a nickname, too?”
The laughter faded from her eyes and she turned her attention to something else. “Just Mack.”
“Liar.” He pointed at himself. “Detective, remember? I’m trained to tell when someone is trying to hand me a load of bullshit.” He playfully bumped her shoulder.
He tried to ignore the shock of heat that radiated out from that slight, completely innocent contact. Judging by the way her eyes had widened, she had felt it, too. She didn’t look happy about it, though.
“What are the chances of you dropping this?”
“Slim and none,” he replied. “Come on, you can tell me.”
“Nothing to tell.”
“I have my ways. Spill, woman.”
She rolled her eyes again and huffed. “Mack. Short for MacKenzie. My last name. See? No big deal.”
He blinked. “Wait. MacKenzie is your last name? I thought it was your first name.”
“Nope.” She turned and started walking toward the water cooler to refill her eco-bottle.
“So,” he pushed, following along behind
her. “What is your first name?”
Chapter Sixteen
~ Mack ~
Damn it! What was it about Nick Benning that made her go weak in the knees like some swooning girly-girl? Was it his boy-next-door smile? His have-sex-with-me-and-I’ll-make-it-the-best-you-ever-had eyes? Or simply the way her body lit up whenever he was within striking distance?
Resisting him took effort. The man could coax the habit off a nun when he turned on the charm. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. For some guys, oozing sex appeal was as autonomic as breathing, and Nick Benning had it in spades.
Corralling her wandering hormones, Mack looked at him with mock seriousness and lowered her voice. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
He laughed, a deep rich sound that rippled through her lower core. “Come on. It’s not a state secret, is it?”
She bit her lip. A state secret, no, but not something she normally shared. Delilah knew, of course. And Jay. Beyond that, there really wasn’t anyone close enough to tell or who had cared enough to ask. Not even her father called her by her given name. Well, not unless the crafty old codger was laying a major guilt trip and attempting to cash in every father-daughter chip he had.
“Tell me.” He leaned forward, close enough that she could smell the cool mintiness of his breath and see the light dusting of shadow along his jawline.
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“I imagine that’s a good trait in your line of work.”
“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. You know my first name. I’m even willing to provide my home address and credit card information.”
Her lips quirked. If he became a permanent member (and there was no reason to think he wouldn’t), he would provide all of that information and more on his application. But that was all business. She would never use that for personal reasons. When she still said nothing, he added, “I brought you coffee.”
Ah, yes, the coffee. The quirk became a smile. That had been a pleasant surprise, coming back to the front desk to find a dark chocolate mocha with a shot of espresso waiting for her. It was exactly what she’d needed after her restless night and her morning clash with Princess Dee.
The grilling that cup of coffee had elicited, however, wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. Chrissy was still in the grips of the magical honeymoon phase and saw romance in even the most innocuous of gestures. Mack had tried to tell her that it wasn’t like that, but then she’d had to explain about their wager, which Chrissy insisted was like a munitions-centric form of foreplay.
“Yes, you did,” she agreed. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to O’Malley’s in time.”
“No apology necessary.”
“So you said.” His momentary frown suggested he did not agree. “Now stop trying to change the subject. Tell me your first name.”
“No.”
“Please?” he said softly, leaning even closer. Mack held her breath, afraid to take in any more of his scent. Nick’s fragrant men’s soap and deodorant was like crack to her jonesing libido, weakening her defenses. “I could look it up, of course, but I’d rather hear it from you.”
Her resolve was wavering. Maybe she could tell him. He was trying to be friendly, and friends did that kind of thing, right? It could even be like an inside joke between them, something the two of them shared but no one else knew. She licked her lips and opened her mouth to speak.
“Nick! There you are!” Dee’s sultry voice cut through Mack’s Nick-induced brain fog just seconds before the woman herself sashayed up and grasped his arm in an obvious claim. “You walked away before I had a chance to give you my number.”
Nick’s reaction was instant. He straightened, all traces of playfulness vanishing as he turned around to greet Dee. The interruption was a much-needed reality check, cutting through whatever ridiculous, pheromone-induced fog had temporarily hijacked her common sense.
Dee looked stunning, as usual, with her blonde extensions artfully braided and just enough bronzer to give her a healthy, radiant glow. Mack lowered her gaze self-consciously, taking in her plain wicking tank and unflattering shorts and her limbs slick with real sweat instead of the spritzed on, glittery kind.
Mack couldn’t compete with Dee, nor did she want to. If a man was incapable of looking beneath the surface, then he wasn’t worth her time.
“Nice, Mack,” Delilah said, wrinkling her nose at her. “Most people change into a bathing suit before they go swimming.”
Clearly, Delilah was still upset over Mack’s refusal to do her bidding. Rather than tell Dee what she really thought — they had an audience, after all — Mack opted for self-effacing humor. “Come on, Dee. No one wants to see that.”
Dee’s smile was like that of a shark’s as her eyes raked down Mack’s form — cold and predatory. Mack saw the virtual blade unsheathing and braced herself for the blow that came a second later. “Good point. Don’t you have some guys to beat up or something?”
Nick stiffened, no doubt a result of the awkward, rising tension, and Mack decided to make it easier on everyone. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Mack turned back to Nick, forcing a smile. “Nice talking to you, Detective. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Mack made a quick getaway before she said or did something she would regret, like kick Dee’s smug, arrogant ass across the mats.
She grabbed her stuff and headed home, but first she stopped at the front desk and inactivated Dee’s card. The moment Delilah walked out those doors, her brief employment at Seize was officially terminated.
Jay watched as she moved the small watering can over the layered planters that took up a good third of the spacious kitchen. Fashioned like a spiral staircase, a bounty of fresh herbs and spices rose from the tiled terra cotta floor all the way up to the open dark wood beams. Mack often found comfort in tending to her multitude of gardens inside and out, and Jay knew this.
“So,” he said, grabbing a handful of dried apple slices from the dehydrator as he followed her. “I saw you talking to the new guy again today.”
“Yeah? So?” she shrugged before catching the gleam in his eye. “He works out at Seize. We’re bound to cross paths occasionally.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Wipe that smirk off your face. It’s not like he’s seeking me out, Jay.”
“Of course not.”
She exhaled. “Look, tonight I bumped into him after sparring with Volker. Before that, I saw him in the weight room a couple times. No big deal.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What were you doing in the weight room?”
“Duh. Lifting weights.”
Jay looked at her sternly. “We talked about this, Mack.”
“No, you talked about this. I pretended to listen and then completely disregarded your appreciated but totally misguided advice. Lots of women lift weights. It builds lean muscle and helps prevent osteoporosis later in life.”
“They lift little pink weights in LuLaRoe to bad techno pop, not deadlift in camo to heavy metal.”
Mack smirked; he knew her so well.
“Seriously, Mack. You’re completely repressing your feminine side. Do some sexy pole dancing in between the power squats once in a while, you know?”
She shook her head. She didn’t mind doing that kind of stuff in private classes, but not in public. “No. That’s not me.”
“Why not? You have a V-card, don’t you? You didn’t exchange it for a P while you were over in Europe?”
Mack straightened from her crouch and threw a weed at his head. “Fucktard. Can you imagine this —” she waved her hands up and down her body “— shaking it with a bunch of spandex-clad Pluto booties?”
“Pluto booties?”
“Yeah. Girls with butts so small they’re practically nonexistent.” The ones that made Mack feel like a linebacker just because she had some meat on her bones.
Jay gaped at her. “Are you ser
iously saying you have a fat ass?”
“No. But this baby’s got back. You take twenty-mile mountain hikes carrying fifty pounds of gear and see what kind of glutes you get.”
“Turn around,” he commanded, spinning an apple slice in the air. She did. Jay brought his fingers to his chin and looked at her critically.
“Yeah, I see what you mean. Nice ass, Mack.”
“I know, right?”
“No, baby girl, the problem is, you don’t know. You have no idea how guys look at you. If you gave them even one iota of encouragement they’d be swarming out of the woodwork, but you keep them at a distance. I am the only one you allow close enough to see past that intense ‘don’t mess with me’ attitude and into your Texas-size heart. It’s frustrating.”
That was, quite possibly, one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her. Mack blinked rapidly several times, but kept her expression neutral. “Thanks, Jay. I appreciate the effort. But you know as well as I do that your opinion as my housemate and BFF isn’t realistic. Beyond trying to cheer me up, it’s completely biased.”
“Just promise me you’ll think about letting your inner diva out once in a while. You already do private classes. Do a public class, Mack. Just one. Look at it this way: at the very least, it’s great cardio and you might actually have fun.”
She snorted at that. “Public humiliation is not fun.” Ask her to navigate an obstacle course? Run ten miles? Drop and pound out fifty pushups? Yeah, she was all over that. Attempt a body roll in front of a wall full of mirrors and twenty snickering females? Not so much.
“Hot guys would line up in the hallway and watch,” Jay told her.
“That’s just one more excellent reason not to.”
“What? You’re not interested in guys now?”
Mack winced, remembering her earlier conversation with Dee. She looked around Jay, half-expecting to see Dee nodding her head and gleefully chanting, “I knew it!” Then another image muscled in, the one of Dee linking her arm through Nick’s with another triumphant smile. Mack hadn’t stuck around to see what happened. At that very moment, Princess Dee might even be getting in her body rolls beneath the hot detective. The modicum of Zen Mack had achieved by tending to her herbs vanished instantly.
Seizing Mack: A Contemporary Love Story (Covendale Book 3) Page 8