Dangerous Kiss

by Avery Flynn

  He wondered if the good sheriff had scattered any evidence to the wind on his sister’s behalf. His gut told him she wasn’t the killer, but she sure had a temper to go along with that red hair of hers.

  She also had a redhead’s tendency to blush, from her awe-inspiring tits to the top of her forehead. The memory made his cock rise. Again. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman blush.

  An image of Claire arching her back, tossing her hair while she rode him, flashed into his head. Her nipples would be a dark rose color, he guessed. Her tits would sway with her rocking motion as she undulated on his erection. He’d grab her round hips, urge her to rock faster. She’d lean down. Her hard nipples would graze his chest as they kissed, their tongues curling around each other in an echo of what the rest of their bodies were doing. He’d flip her to her back, that red hair of hers spreading out across the white pillowcase like a sunset. She’d wrap her legs around him as he drove his hard dick into her wet center. He could hear her moaning, throaty and wanting. Then—

  Whoa there.

  She was a witness, not a candidate for making those fantasies a reality. He erased the tantalizing mental images and went back to reading the dossier.

  Charles Burlington wasn’t going to take any chances the case would go south because some local yokels couldn’t investigate their way out of a paper bag. That’s why he hired Absolute Security. Jake would poke his nose around without interfering with an ongoing investigation.

  Earlier that morning, the old man had called saying Burlington wanted to know if the investigators had found Kendall’s phone. The request stuck him as weird. She’d just been murdered, for God’s sake, why zero in on her phone? Burlington had told the old man it had some photos Kendall’s mother wanted. Jake figured grief made people focus on strange things. Still, the request stuck in his craw.

  He scanned the initial sheriff’s report. Nothing there about a phone. Where was it?

  “She didn’t do it, you know.”

  He looked up at the bartender.

  “I’ve known Claire for years. She’s not involved in anything bad.”

  Suzie, according to her purple, corncob-shaped name tag, wiped out a glass and set it on a shelf under the bar.

  “People surprise each other all the time.” He reached for his coffee. “You never know what’s going on in someone else’s mind.”

  He should know. He’d seen the pictures of his mother from when he was a toddler. She’d looked happy. His father thought she’d been content. But she hadn’t been. No one had known until the day father and son came home to find all her clothes gone. A note had been taped to the fridge. I want to be somebody new.

  They’d never heard from her again.

  Yeah, people hid a lot about themselves. Who knew what secrets Claire hid behind her pretty face?

  Chapter Three

  Claire had to get Jake out of her bar. The hotshot from Denver pushed her buttons like a payphone.

  Tongue tied and turned-on, her body and mind were in turmoil. She should have put a little more effort into getting laid before her whole world had gone crazy. Hell, she should have bothered to look at a man as dating potential. If she hadn’t sworn off men, she wouldn’t be worked into a lather over a yummy set of abs. And the way his appreciative gaze sent shocks through her. And how his voice turned her insides to jelly.

  Chris walked ahead of her back to the bar. She stopped in the doorway and stared at Jake. Who wouldn’t? With his movie star looks and granite-hard body, the man was beyond easy on the eyes and hard on the panties. Her body perked up, an electric shot of desire pulling her forward.

  He sat at the bar, his attention on the papers in front of him. She savored the chance to observe him unnoticed. As he read, he seemed softer. Not weak, but less cocky and full of himself. However, a sense of restrained danger remained under the surface.

  He reminded her of a black panther she’d seen once at the Denver Zoo. The creature had been powerful and languid at the same time. Even in repose on a wooden platform, the cat has a fluid, savage energy had surrounded the predatory cat. He’d swished his long tail and watched her from his perch. Despite the man-made moat and fence between her and the big cat, a chill had slid across her skin, warning of danger.

  Jake looked up and caught her staring. In an instant, lust burned in his slate-blue eyes. He got up and stalked toward her, but Claire didn’t feel like prey. No, this was a mutual hunt. She wanted to slide her hands through his short dark hair. Run her tongue across his washboard abs. Trail her fingers down his powerful back and over his hard ass. She couldn’t help it. She couldn’t explain it. She just wanted him. Badly.

  The thought jarred her out of her fantasy. He was aggressive and obnoxious. She’d had enough of that type of man with her cheating ex-boyfriend, Brett. The next man in her bed wouldn’t be some alpha male. He’d be caring, understanding and mellow. But man, she was woman enough to admit it would be a plus if he had Jake’s Apollo-worthy bod.

  Ugh, stop thinking about tying him to a bed!

  She tried to ignore the need barreling through her body and dug her nails into her palms. The sharp pain distracted her from her impure thoughts. She breathed easier. Jutting her chin upwards, she put on her best superior expression, hoping it hid her desire.

  “Here’s one of the extra Harvest shirts. It’s all we have.”

  She held out the dark-crimson T-shirt with the black Harvest logo. It hung from her fingertips in midair. Neither she nor Jake moved. The shirt dangled in front of him like a red flag waved at a bull. The upward curl of his lips said he liked a challenge. A shiver slid down her spine.

  When he took the shirt, their fingers brushed and a frisson of awareness shot up her arm. She jerked her hand back.

  Jake wriggled his fingers, shook his head and pulled on the T-shirt. Watching the movement of his muscles as they bunched and stretched sucked her into fantasyland again. She forgot her annoyance and imagined wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders as he pushed her naked body against a wall. He’d set a slow and steady rhythm as she enveloped him.

  A small groan escaped before she could stop the sound. The quirk of Jake’s eyebrows forced her back to the present. Not that the view disappointed. The size large T-shirt fit tight across his broad shoulders. Against her better judgment, she regretted seeing his unyielding abs hidden away under soft cotton.

  “I have to tell you, it’s one of the more direct ways a woman has worked it so that I had to take off my shirt.” He bent his head down toward her. “I didn’t realize you country girls were so forward. Now, I don’t mind you getting me wet, but next time, just ask.”

  Biting her lip, she fought the urge, again, to kick him in the shin. God, he was irritating. And enticing. And yummy to look at. And…oh God, this man erased all thoughts except those that involved him naked on her bed.

  She flashed him an insincere smile and batted her eyelashes, hoping he wouldn’t notice how her nipples had hardened. As if she’d said the words out loud, his gaze locked in on that exact part of her anatomy. Damn. They actually got harder.

  She crossed her arms in front of her breasts. “Oh, I think once was enough. You know us country girls just aren’t used to your big city ways.”

  “I could teach you about all things big.” His wicked grin promised she’d learn a lot.

  Electricity sparked between them, sank into her skin and settled low in her belly. “I’m sure you’d like to, but I’m not looking for a teacher.”

  That silenced him. He dragged his gaze from her toes to her eyes in slow motion. His hot perusal burned her skin as it traveled up her body, lingering on her breasts before stopping at her lips. A wolfish leer lit his face.

  “I’m more than willing to be a student, if that’s what you’d prefer,” his voice rumbled.

  Suzie squeaked and slapped her hand over her mouth. Fire burned Claire’s face as another flush spread up her body. God, she hated her lack of control. Time to end this c
onversation before she ripped off his shirt and had her wicked way with him.

  “Don’t worry about bringing back the shirt. Think of it as Dry Creek’s goodbye gift to you.” She waved her fingers. “Have a safe drive back to Denver.”

  “But, I’m not going anywhere.”

  How did she know that was coming? And why did the buzzing sensation in her stomach intensify? Annoyed with him and herself, she shot him a black look. “Well, we’re in a bar and you know the saying; you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

  “Are you asking me to go home with you?” There was that smirk again.

  She leveled her best “drop dead” look at him. Nothing happened. She’d used The Look to make late delivery men and handsy dates shake in the knees. It had never failed her. Until now.

  The charged silence lasted another beat or two before Chris broke it. “So what is it you want to know?”

  Jake’s gaze hardened and never strayed from Claire. “I want to know how Kendall’s body ended up in the Dumpster.”

  All of the desire flooding her body evaporated. Her chest tightened at the thought of Kendall and what misery her family must be going through right now. It made her heart ache to think of them. Even though her own family drove her nuts, Claire couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose a single one of them. And if a possible witness wouldn’t take the time to share what they knew with an investigator? Well, that would horrible. She couldn’t do that to the girl’s family. They deserved better than to suffer more because of her hair-trigger temper.

  Sighing, Claire sat down at the bar. “Honestly, I don’t know. All I know is she was one of people with reservations last night.”

  Jake followed her lead, leaving an empty stool between them, and leaned in closer. “Did she come by herself?”

  “Yeah, that’s not uncommon for our Full Moon Special. That’s the seven-course meal we have once a month on the night of the full moon. People make reservations in groups usually, but a few singles do too. We seat everyone family style. It’s easier for the waitstaff that way because it limits the number of tables. Plus, it makes the meal seem more of a social experience.”

  “What was she like during dinner?”

  She paused and looked up at Jake. His vibe no longer read as sexual. Instead of being full of heat, warmth and understanding beamed from his eyes, as if inviting her to share her confidences.

  A girl could drown in those slate-blue eyes. Part of her wanted to. She shrugged off the wish, brought her attention back to the matter at hand.

  “She didn’t interact very much with the people around her. Whenever I checked on her table, she was either texting or talking on her phone.”

  “Phone?” Worry lines carved their way across his forehead. He shuffled through his papers on the bar. “There’s nothing in the initial incident report about a cellphone being recovered. Sheriff Layton never mentioned finding Kendall’s phone to her parents.” He scooted his stool closer to her. “What happened to the phone?”

  Claire straightened up so fast she almost fell off the stool. Her mind went into overdrive and adrenaline surged through her.

  Phone.

  Flash drive.

  What time was it? She’d only been down here a moment. Right? She darted a furtive glance at the clock behind the bar.

  Twelve-fifteen.

  She’d missed the deadline. Her fear spiked. Her breath caught in her throat. The room grew hotter.

  Automatically, she patted her dress pocket for her phone, but it wasn’t there. She’d left it in her office.

  She’d missed the Voice of Doom. Oh God, what was going to happen now? He’d call back, right? He wouldn’t go straight in for the kill.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Panic flooded through her body unabated. Her skin itched as if ants were doing the conga down her spine. If anything happened to her family, she’d never be able to forgive herself.

  She had to get out of here, but couldn’t bolt for the door.

  She forced herself to concentrate on the bar, wiping at an imaginary stain. She couldn’t let anyone suspect something was wrong. The killer had warned not to tell anyone about his call. But how to leave without causing suspicion?

  “Hmmm? Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think something was wrong?”

  She twisted her hair tightly around a finger and avoided looking at Jake. She jiggled her knee and fumbled for a way to get out of here.

  “I asked about Kendall’s phone and you went all squirrelly on me. What’s the deal?”

  She forced her body to be still. Jake didn’t look as friendly. Now he acted like a dog angling to sneak off with the Thanksgiving turkey.

  “Oh, nothing. Just remembered that someone promised to call me. No big deal.” She smiled so tightly her cheeks ached.

  “The look on your face says it’s a big deal.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip until a sharp pain stopped her. Damn. She’d been doing that so much today. It hurt. “It’s not, um, a big deal…for you, I mean. For me, it’s a, um, very, very big deal.”

  She mentally smacked herself upside the head. Man, she sucked at lying. Even Chris looked at her as if she were some crazy lady. “Did you get anything to drink? Suzie here makes a great iced coffee.” Now she babbled.

  She glanced at Chris, silently beseeching him for help. He looked at her like she had two heads. Suzie wouldn’t even make eye contact.

  “I’m okay. Now, about Kendall’s phone, do you know what happened to it?” His tractor-beam gaze drew her in.

  “It’s not here at the restaurant.” Ugh, why couldn’t she just shut up?

  “How do you know it’s not at the restaurant? Did you look for it? Why would you do that?”

  “Um, curiosity?” There went the nervous leg jiggle again.

  He slapped his papers on the bar and leaned away from her. “Really? What was it about the phone that made you so curious?”

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth. She couldn’t think of anything that even remotely sounded plausible. No way could she tell Jake about the killer’s threats. She couldn’t risk her family. What could she say? Jake stared her down, making her feel about an inch tall. She wished he’d start talking again.

  “I thought I might find you still here.” Hank’s deep baritone broke the silence.

  He walked into the bar and tossed a set of car keys in her general direction. She caught them automatically. There were benefits to growing up with brothers, such as the no-look catch.

  “Parked your Jeep in the lot. Sorry we had to keep it last night.”

  Hank fixed Jake with a straight stare. The two men sized each other up. If either had a measuring stick, no doubt this was when they would have broken it out. Men.

  “Sheriff Layton.” Jake nodded toward the man in uniform.

  “Call me Hank.”

  The statement was friendly. The tone was not. Hank didn’t offer his hand to Jake in greeting. Either Jake didn’t notice or he didn’t care about the slight because he went on as if nothing awkward had happened.

  “OK, Hank. I was just talking to your sister about Kendall’s missing phone. It seems Claire was searching the restaurant for it. Did you ask her to do that?”

  “No.” He turned and looked at her. “Claire, why were you looking for a phone? And why did you ask me about whether we found one last night?” His testy tone was as effective as an interrogator shining a light in her face.

  Both men stared at her. They had to know she hid something. What was she supposed to say? Maybe she should come clean? But where to start?

  She weighed the benefits of telling versus the killer’s threats. Her palms became clammy at the reminder of last night’s terrifying phone call. Once again, fear and panic boiled within her.

  No one in the bar moved. Her gaze jumped from one person to another before landing on Jake. His face softened and he gave her an encouraging nod. She had to tell. Too much was at stake to keep it to herself.


  Harvest’s assistant manager Jorge Sanchez burst into the room, stopping just inside the doorway. “Claire!”

  “Not right now, Jorge.” She steeled herself for whatever the fallout would be for not speaking up about the phone call sooner.

  “But, Claire, your Jeep is on fire.”

  Chapter Four

  Heat slapped Jake across the face. From the doorway, he watched the Jeep burn like a bonfire in the parking lot. Claire gasped, then squeezed around him. They ran out the door, her brothers right behind them, and only made it a few steps before the crackling blaze’s heat forced them to stop.

  Orange flames stretched from the Jeep’s now-crispy upholstery toward the sun straight above them. Benzene, smoke and burning vinyl seats poisoned the air around the gathering crowd of busboys, servers and curious customers.

  What kind of life was Claire living? Could this be the work of a jealous ex-boyfriend, an angry customer, or had Kendall’s killer picked out another victim?

  Jake glanced over. She stood an arm’s reach away, her bottom lip trembling. Then, she clenched her jaw tight. From the looks of her, she was either about to punch someone’s lights out or bawl. The real fire had turned her feisty spark to ash.

  The urge to tuck her into his arms and protect her from this latest disaster had him taking a step toward her before he stopped himself. He wouldn’t get emotionally involved in a case, no matter how right it felt. Not a second time.

  Shouts of, “Get the fire extinguisher,” tore his attention away from Claire. A fire truck sped into the parking lot, drowning out the crowd’s clamor.

  Looked like there were benefits to living in a small town, and response time was one of them.

  People moved back toward the bushes, giving the firefighters room. But one guy peeled off from the crowd. He didn’t look forward. Instead, he kept his head down and turned slightly away. About six feet tall, he had shaggy, sandy hair with a skin-and-bones build. The man ignored the commotion as he made his way out of the parking lot.

  The hairs on Jake’s neck stood at attention. He didn’t have any proof, but in his gut he knew. He leaned toward Hank.