Strong, Sleek and Sinful

by Lorie O'Clare

  Suddenly the thought of her being incapable of feeling faded from his mind. Kylie’s story went a lot deeper than that, and it was about to get exposed.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow night at five,” he informed her, sliding back behind his driver’s wheel. “Wear something nice but casual. No short skirts.”

  He drove off with her blank, almost hard expression burned in his mind. It was as if she was resigned to something, and he wasn’t going to sleep until he knew every detail of what it was.

  Thirty minutes later he endured the silence on the other end of the line, about done with people who he thought were his friends not telling him what he wanted to know.

  “Noah, man, talk to me,” he insisted.

  “I’m here, man. Where did you get this gun again?”

  “Just tell me who the fuck it’s registered to.”

  The loud sigh on the other end of the line crept over his skin annoyingly, like someone juicing up his nerves, exposing them, and rubbing the wrong way so as to irritate him and piss him the fuck off.

  “Damn it, man, I’m sick the fuck of being lied to. I’ve dealt with it all night and walked away from it once. She came back to me, damn it. I have a right to know the goddamn truth.”

  “Actually, you don’t,” Noah said seriously. “And I believe you, man. I would be mad as hell, too. I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave her alone.”

  “Excuse me? What? Suddenly you’re my mother?” he snarled. “Noah, tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Man, you’ve taken on the wrong woman this time. Leave it to you…,” he said, pausing and grunting something under his breath that didn’t sound good.

  “Tell me who she is.”

  “I can’t.”

  Silence weighed so heavily between them it was making it hard as hell to breathe. Perry wanted to scream. He wanted to reach through the phone and beat the crap out of his long-time good friend.

  “She’s an FBI agent,” Perry spit out, guessing.

  But he wasn’t ready for the continued silence to follow. Perry felt a cold sweat soak his forehead when Noah didn’t confirm or deny his guess.

  “Goddamn, son of a bitch.” He rubbed his face, his heart suddenly pounding adrenaline through his system with a fury he could barely hold on to. “No wonder she almost panicked when I suggested calling in the serial number.”

  “Perry, leave it alone.”

  “Of course, Noah. I’m sure that is exactly what the fuck you would do in the same circumstance.”

  Noah grunted into Perry’s ear, again not commenting, but not disputing the accusation, either.

  “Goddamn good thing I speak Neanderthal. So tell me, she’s working undercover and that is why she’s lying every time she opens that pretty little mouth of hers.”

  “You know I’m not going to answer your questions.” Noah might as well just have confirmed everything Perry just said. His mind raced, trying to come up with wording good enough to drag more information out of his FBI friend. “I made it to a crime scene tonight only to learn the FBI beat me to the punch. They announced tonight their involvement in this case. But I’ve worked alongside FBI agents before on other cases. So there’s got to be a damn good reason why someone has decided she can’t reveal who she is to anyone, not even me.”

  “Don’t push it, man.”

  “Like fucking hell. I’m going to fucking shove my way into this one. You have no idea.”

  As he remembered how she ran across her yard barefoot, chasing him down instead of letting him leave her, Perry’s insides tightened. His urge to protect her peaked to dangerous levels. He would make sure she didn’t get hurt while she pursued a madman, and at the same time vowed to destroy whoever it was who decided she could take on this case by herself.

  “This isn’t worth jeopardizing your career over, man.”

  “You have no idea what it’s fucking worth to me, man. What if I told you going after that cop lady of yours wasn’t worth it a year ago?”

  “I would have told you to go to fucking hell,” Noah said, laughing dryly.

  “Well, back at you, man.”

  “You take any information you stumble onto, Perry—”

  “I know the fucking ropes,” he hissed. But the realization hitting him like a brick in the head at the moment was strong enough to knock sense even into his thick skull. “She’s on this case, undercover, and can’t tell me the truth. I can learn it, though, man. I wouldn’t jeopardize her job. All that I need to know is the truth. I’ll make sure she understands that I won’t blow her cover.” There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his mind that once he made her see that he knew who she was, Kylie would quit lying. Then he could protect her properly. And he would get her to admit she was having feelings for him, too, feelings that went beyond craving a good fuck. “I know she won’t stop working the case. But you have no clue. Kylie is one hot, petite little number. Whoever decided to send her after a monster all by herself needs his head examined.”

  “You go right ahead and tell her that,” Noah suggested, this time his laughter deeper, louder, as if he’d just heard a good joke. “I know a lady cop who just loves hearing that because she’s hot as hell and sexy to boot she shouldn’t go after the bad guy. Let me know if your woman can kick ass as well as mine can.”

  Perry barely listened. He sat at his computer, typing in various versions of Kylie’s name, along with the words “agent” and “FBI,” until he found what he needed.

  “Donovan,” Perry said out loud.

  “What?”

  “She isn’t Kylie Dover. Her name is Kylie Donovan.”

  “Man, let it go. Just go solve your case.”

  “Do you know her?”

  “You know I can’t confirm that. Furthermore, this conversation never happened.”

  Perry knew he had it now. “It’s cool, man. What are friends for.”

  “Uh-huh. Talk to me once you’ve solved this case.”

  “Will do.” Perry hung up the phone. It was time to read up on Miss Donovan.

  Special Agent Kylie Donovan had one hell of a track record. He wasn’t able to find so much on the Internet, other than random newspaper articles, when he did a search on her name. But when he logged onto the special Web site allowing him exclusive access to crime history and a search engine designed to focus on criminal history, Agent Donovan appeared as much as any agent.

  She was in fact twenty-seven years old, from Dallas, TX, and the only surviving daughter of Kent and Deirdre Donovan. The password-protected search engine pulled up a lot more articles that were successfully buried in the Internet available to the general public. Government agencies might not be able to curb reporters and different forms of media across the nations, newspapers, magazines, blogs on news channel Web sites, from reporting facts they’d just as soon not have as public knowledge. There were ways, however, to make it hard for names to pop up when a search was done. It was a process that Perry didn’t know a lot about. What he did know was that if he truly wanted information on someone, logging onto the Web site offered through his line of work proved the most effective and the least hassle.

  “Impressive, Donovan, very impressive,” he said, leaning back in his office chair in his den and stretching. It was almost four in the morning, and sleep was a long way off. Especially with adrenaline pumping through him with a vengeance. “You’ve nailed quite a few sexual predators in your time.” In fact, it was obviously her area of expertise.

  He opened another file, which was an article dated thirteen years ago. It wasn’t about Kylie Donovan but Karen Donovan a teenage girl found raped and murdered in Dallas, TX. Surviving family were her parents and younger sister, Kylie.

  Perry blew out a staggered breath, scrubbing his head with his palms while his eyes burned from staring at his screen for so long. He stood, feeling the kinks in his muscles, and twisted his torso a few times while contemplating his next move.

  “Y
ou’ve got the facts, Flynn. Now what to do with the knowledge.” He spoke the words, but there wasn’t any doubt in his mind what he would do.

  There were options. Breaking into her home again was one. He could show up over there and knock on her door, let the cameras record him arriving. Although now it made more sense why they seemed to be set up more for surveillance than protection. It also made sense why she didn’t want him in that middle bedroom or running a check on her gun. Kylie worked undercover. But part of her was real. He’d seen some of her true colors. The most recent being her running barefoot across her lawn after him when he walked out on her.

  Maybe she couldn’t tell him she was working the Peter case, but she was able to show him that she didn’t want him walking out of her life.

  Perry picked up his phone and scrolled to her number, which he’d recently entered. Then finding his earpiece, he pushed the send button and listened as it rang.

  “Hello,” she said, sounding out of breath, when she answered on the second ring. Kylie wasn’t sleeping.

  “Where are you?” he demanded.

  “Who is this?”

  “Special Agent Kylie Donovan, this is Lieutenant Perry Flynn. We need to talk.”

  Chapter 17

  Kylie tripped over her foot walking to her car. “Crap,” she hissed.

  “Yeah, crap,” Perry said in her ear. “Where are you?”

  She sighed, reaching her car and staring at the field office, which was dark and appeared very closed in the middle of the night. Thunder rumbled in the distance. It better rain soon; the humidity was worse than anything she’d experienced in a while.

  “Getting ready to head home,” she said, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her.

  Sitting with Paul, going over ISPs and listening while he explained how a Web site could be tracked to an “address,” basically showing where it was created, didn’t help her mood. When, once again, it became apparently clear that whoever Peter was, he was working out of the computers located inside the police department, she got pissed.

  Then Paul suggested it was an interesting coincidence that whenever she finished talking to Peter, Perry showed up. That’s when she walked out the door. If Paul wanted to camp there all night, that was fine with her. But she wasn’t hanging around any longer and listening to bullshit.

  “Stop by here. I’m at Three Twenty-seven Elm Street.”

  Kylie unlocked her hybrid and slipped behind the wheel, feeling a wave of light-headedness hit her. “It’s late, Perry.” She wasn’t sure she could take him on right now. If she went over there, she doubted they would do much talking.

  “You can come over here, or I can show up at your place and whoever is monitoring your house will know when I show up, and when I leave,” Perry added, letting the last words he said fade into a dark promise.

  In spite of how tired she was, her insides tightened with the need he’d created in her earlier when he’d kissed her senseless. “I’ll be over in a few.” She hung up, unwilling to listen if he started in on her for all of the lies she’d told him. She was doing her job.

  Starting her car, she put a shield up around her heart. This couldn’t get personal. Once this case was solved she would leave town. It was probably best Perry understood that now, before he started assuming there was more than what she could offer. And regardless of Paul’s speculation, Kylie wouldn’t buy into Perry being a possible suspect. For years she’d been tracking sexual predators, creating profiles. Perry wasn’t a criminal. Most definitely possessive, aggressive, and demanding, but those were very common traits found in detectives. Other men as well, but Perry’s nature fit who he was, a single cop with a sister who had daughters. They were his world, and he was their protector. He would slip Kylie under that balloon, too, if she let him. And what a comfortable spot to be.

  Kylie punched his address into her navigating device on her dash. The female voice started instructing her where to turn, her soft monotone enough to lull Kylie off to sleep if she dwelled on it. Thinking about Perry and the case kept her alert, though. Perry could blow her cover if she wasn’t careful, which was why she agreed to go over there. They would talk; she would learn where he stood, and make her decisions from there. The last thing she wanted to do was pull herself off this case, though. Worse yet, she would die if they took her off the case. In the years she’d been with the FBI, she’d never fucked up any case she’d worked on. Her track record was perfect. It had to stay that way. No matter what.

  Her navigation device brought her to a quiet neighborhood where she envisioned older couples, their kids already moved out, yet for whatever reasons their parents hadn’t moved into smaller homes. The yards were all oversized and neatly mowed. Trees larger than the houses shrouded the neighborhood, adding to the peaceful setting.

  The lady in the navigating device indicated Kylie had arrived at her destination. She paused in the street, staring at the dark home on the corner lot. Perry’s Jeep was parked in a gravel drive close to a door she guessed was the back door. Her stomach twisted with nerves when she parked on the street and then walked on the gravel to the door.

  Perry opened it before she could knock. One look at the tight, almost angry look on his face and her heart swelled to her throat. He didn’t say anything but stepped to the side as she walked in.

  “Where were you?” he asked when she walked as far as a kitchen. There weren’t any lights on except in a room on the other end of the house. And she knew that only because of the lit windows from outside. “Or wait, let me guess, you can’t tell me.”

  There wasn’t pain in his tone, more like resignation. It still stabbed at her heart, the heart that was supposed to be well guarded by walls that would prevent any emotions from getting to it.

  “And you would tell me every case you’re working on?” she demanded, turning around and facing him.

  Perry crossed his arms over his muscular chest and glared down at her, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Oh, no, let me guess,” she said, mimicking him. “It’s different because you’re a man.”

  “You’re goddamn straight,” he hissed, but then stopped, turning and storming past her into his dark living room. He rubbed his hand over his head, barely tousling his short, dark hair, and turned on her. Whatever demons haunted him turned his eyes black as night.

  “No,” she hissed, pointing at him. “That’s wrong. You quite possibly have jeopardized my whole case. I wouldn’t do that to you. And your only argument is because I’m a woman?”

  “I haven’t jeopardized your case,” he said, his voice lowering to a dangerous, if not deadly-sounding, baritone. “Not a fucking soul knows you’re FBI other than me. And of course whoever you’re working with,” he said, waving his hand at her but then turning to pace. “I tried walking out on you, and you stopped me, remember?” he continued. “I told myself at first that the only attraction was that you’re fucking hot as hell.”

  “Thank you,” she said dryly. But then let the rest of his words sink in. “At first?”

  He walked toward the room off his living room where light flooded from the doorway. Kylie stood alone in his living room, waiting for him to answer, or at least suggest she follow. But he did neither. She stared at the extra long and wide leather couch and pictured him sprawled over it, remote in hand, watching his large-screen TV. She guessed even when the lights were on the room would be dark; black leather furniture and dark-stained wooden end tables and coffee tables with equally dark-stained floorboards and doorways gave the room a dominating yet calm and controlled atmosphere. Every inch of the space around her was filled with Perry’s aura.

  She’d entered his lair. There were pictures on the wall, but she didn’t focus on them, instead moving warily toward the doorway with light streaming out of it. Even the air sizzled with his controlling nature wrapping around her, making her flesh tingle. She fought for calming breaths when she reached the doorway and paused. This wasn’t the time to search her surroundings and le
arn more about the man who’d seeped into her pores and created a longing that wouldn’t go away. She shouldn’t dwell on how he’d arranged his home, or how it gave her more insight into the nature of the man.

  Perry stood in a den, a room she guessed was where he spent most of his time, his personal haven. Everything in the room spoke of Perry. From the dark green walls and even darker-stained woodwork bordering the floors and ceiling and doorway to the thick roped circular carpet covering wooden floors. His computer was set up in the corner, and bookshelves that she’d love to explore lined two of the four walls. They were crammed full of so many books, and trophies, more than likely a showcase that displayed his life. But it was the tall, glass-enclosed cabinet that he stood facing, filled with guns of all shapes and sizes, that she guessed summed Perry up. Weapons of power, of control, deadly and dangerous just like the man.

  “We’ve got a problem.” He didn’t elaborate, although the silence grew between them. Instead, he continued facing his display case, possibly not even seeing the weapons inside. “I don’t compete with anyone when working a case. It’s my case, or it’s not.”

  “I was called in to work this case. I didn’t ask for it.” Kylie walked toward him but stopped and faced his back, staring at roped muscle stretching under his shirt. He wasn’t going to turn around. Well, let him play stubborn. The facts were simple. “Nothing has changed, Perry. Except hopefully now you understand that I wasn’t lying to you by choice.”

  “Things have changed.” He turned around, and the fierceness in his gaze looked worse than angry. A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw as he fought to maintain outrage that made his eyes black. “You’re the bait for a madman and I have to stand by and allow this to continue. I’m not sure I have what it takes to do that, Kylie.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  He grew before her. She was sure of it. Muscles flexed under his shirt and it seemed she was forced to tilt her head farther to maintain eye contact.