Heated

by J. Kenner

  "I just want you to stay. At the moment, I don't care how."

  I tilted my head and glanced down at my arms, still bound behind me. Then at my legs, spread wide and his hand still stroking me. "Right now you could make me."

  "Tempting," he said. "Very tempting."

  "You know, this trust thing has to be mutual. Maybe I should tie you up."

  His grin was pure, wicked sex. "Maybe you should. I think I'd enjoy being at your mercy."

  As he reached to untie me, my phone rang. "Dammit," I said. "Just send it to voicemail."

  He reached for it, and I saw him hesitate. "It's your dad. Answer it?"

  "Put it on speaker," I said, since I was in no position to hold a phone. "It might be important."

  "Hi, Daddy," I said, once Tyler laid the phone on the bed. "Listen, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of tied up right now."

  Beside me, Tyler rolled his eyes.

  "I won't keep you. But I wanted to let you know that I heard back from my friend in the Vegas PD. Amy was cited. For solicitation."

  I met Tyler's eyes. "Shit. Thanks for letting me know."

  "Wait. There's more. They booked her. I had him compare the mug shot with the license. Honey, they don't match."

  "Say again?"

  "Whoever's using her ID isn't Amy."

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

  I had a bad feeling. A very, very bad feeling.

  "Daddy, I have to go." I nodded to the phone and Tyler ended the call. "Untie me," I said urgently. "Untie me now."

  "What's going on?"

  "I'm not sure." I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. "Shit. It's right there. This feeling. Something's off and it all ties back to Vegas."

  "The fact that she's not there."

  I met his eyes as the word that was eluding me surfaced. "Emily."

  He cocked his head. "Back up. Slow down. What are you thinking?"

  I stood up, then started to pace, the motion helping me think. "I don't think Amy went to Vegas. I don't think she ever did. Okay," I said, then held up a hand to silence him before his words erased my thoughts. "Emily was supposed to have been heading for Vegas, but she was found dead in Chicago. And Amy was supposed to have gone to Vegas, but we never heard from her."

  "Darcy got a postcard," he pointed out. "And you said Candy got a phone call."

  "A postcard with no return address. A phone call that went straight to voice mail--and had the wrong month in it."

  His brow furrowed. "The wrong month?"

  "Hang on. I'm getting there. I need to check something." I snatched my phone, then did an Internet search on POE oil. A second later, I knew that POE oil was used with refrigerants. "Fuck," I said. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

  "Fill me in," Tyler said.

  "Call Sapphire," I said. "You have her cell number, right?"

  He nodded, then dialed, putting his phone on speaker. As he did, I started to explain what I was thinking.

  "If my hunch is right, Amy never sent that postcard. Someone else did. And the call was made from a burner. And in the call, she sounded terrible, Candy said. And she said she'd see Candy next month. Amy knows when Candy's due. She wouldn't get it that far off. She gave the wrong date on purpose. She was giving us a clue, and I fucking missed it--Sapphire," I added, when the girl answered the phone.

  "Hey." She sounded confused. "Tyler?"

  "His phone," I said. "This is Sloane. Listen, do you know who offered Emily the job? The one she turned down when she decided to go to Vegas?"

  "Um, yeah. That was Big Charley. You know, the nice quiet guy who--"

  "I know him," I said. "Thanks."

  I clicked the button to end the call, and saw from Tyler's face that he was on the same page as me.

  "Refrigerant oil," he said. "He's in the vending machine business. And he offered both girls a job."

  "Lizzy, too," I said. I was already climbing into my clothes. Tyler was, too.

  "He offered Lizzy a job?"

  "I didn't catch it at first," I said, hurrying toward the service door. "She said she should have taken the pop job. Soda pop. Vending machines."

  "Blond hair and bangs," Tyler mused. "All three of them."

  "We're taking my car," I said, as I jammed the button for the elevator. I wanted my gun.

  We took my car, but I let Tyler drive. Not only did he know where Big Charley's office was, but he was a hell of a lot better at navigating Chicago.

  "We know that Amy's alive," I said. "Or she was pretty damn recently." I kicked at the dashboard. "The guy had her call Candy right after I talked with him. Guy's got serious balls, the fucker."

  "How are we handling this?"

  I took my Glock out of the glove box and checked the magazine. Then I pulled the slide back and put one in the chamber. "We can't get a warrant. I'm not local and there's no time, anyway. So we're going to go into his office and politely ask where she is."

  "And if he doesn't tell us?"

  I met Tyler's eyes. "Then we'll get nasty."

  Charley's warehouse was near Destiny, and Tyler got us there at near the speed of light.

  "I have the gun," I said. "So when it gets down to it, you stay behind me."

  "If I'd known our agenda, I'd be armed, too."

  I glanced at him, then shook my head. I should have assumed he'd have a weapon somewhere. "No time to get it now. And we're starting this party like it's just a regular business day. Okay?"

  "I know what to do," Tyler said.

  There was a buzzer on the front door of the warehouse, and Tyler pressed it, and I was relieved when Big Charley himself answered the intercom. I'd expected to have to deal with staff. But maybe we'd gotten lucky.

  "Hey, Charley, it's Tyler Sharp. I've got a proposition for you."

  "Yeah? What kind?"

  "The kind I don't want to discuss by shouting in an intercom. Buzz me in."

  There was a pause, then the door clicked open. We entered a warehouse that resembled a maze constructed of vending machines. Tyler'd been here before, though, and he led us through to the far corner and a dingy office with a cheap wooden door.

  Inside, Big Charley sat behind a cheap wooden desk. I caught Tyler's eye, hoping he could read my mind. I wanted Charley out from behind that desk, because who knew what he had mounted under there.

  Tyler took a seat on the ratty sofa, then pulled out his phone. "Got a new gig we're working," he said, tapping at the phone. "Come here. I've got some photos and specs. Should be lucrative."

  Charley narrowed his eyes and looked at me.

  "She's cool," Tyler said. "Won't say a word. Will you, baby?"

  "No, sir."

  Charley's brows rose and he joined Tyler on the couch. "Okay, what do you have?"

  "Amy Dawson. Emily Bennett," I said, watching his face. "It's not about what we have, but about what you do."

  "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he said, but I'd already seen the truth on his face.

  "Where, goddammit?" I said, and this time I aimed the Glock at his chest. "Where are they?"

  "I told you, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

  "I'll look for keys. Something," Tyler said, going to his desk. And then, "No keys, but this is interesting." He raised a 9mm Beretta, then walked over to me.

  "Tyler ..."

  "You know, Charley. This all feels very personal to me. And I think I can be much more persuasive than the lady."

  "Fuck. You."

  "I thought you might say that," Tyler said, then shot the bastard in the kneecap, making my ears ring.

  "Where?" Tyler asked, sounding as though he was at the end of the tunnel. "Tell me now or lose the other."

  "Vault," Charley said. "Far side of the warehouse."

  "Bring him," I said to Tyler, as I started toward the door. "It's probably padlocked."

  Tyler hauled Charley into the rolling desk chair, and we raced across the warehouse, the sick fuck crying and moaning about how much he hurt.


  "Yeah, I'm guessing Emily Bennett didn't feel so good, either. And if Amy is dead, you are going to never feel right again."

  We reached the vault door and, sure enough, it was locked with a heavy duty combination lock. Tyler and his new Beretta managed to persuade the combination out of Charley.

  We yanked open the door. "Amy! Amy, it's Sloane," I called. I went in low, just in case, but I didn't really think anyone else was there. This wasn't a trafficking operation. This was just one perverted bastard.

  "Sloane?"

  I barely heard it, what with her weak voice and my still-ringing ears. But I did, and I raced across the small room to find her shoved into a dog crate hidden under a moving blanket.

  While Tyler checked the rest of the room to make sure there were no other girls, I opened the crate. "Come on, sweetheart. It's over now. You're safe."

  I put the furniture blanket around her, keeping her warm from the shock, and watched as she crawled back into a corner, as far away from Big Charley as she could get.

  "What's this fucker's last name?" I asked Tyler.

  "Dodd."

  "Charles Dodd, you're under arrest for the murder of Emily Bennett and the attempted murder of Amy Dawson. You have the right to remain silent," I began, then finished Mirandizing him. I wasn't Chicago PD. But right then, I figured I'd do.

  "You ain't gonna arrest me," Charley said.

  "Seems to me I already did."

  "Not if you're with him. Because I've got a lot of paperwork on him and his buddies. Lots of documentation. I'm careful that way. Careful to keep records. Make notes. I write down everything. And I'm a very sharing kind of guy."

  My stomach turned over, and I felt bile rise in my throat. I knew how this would go down. Charley was a murderer, but he'd cut a deal. Because the knights were a much bigger and flashier feather in the cap of the local PD and FBI office. Charley would maybe get sentenced to a dime, get out in three. And the knights would end up in a minimum security facility for the rest of their lives.

  Shit. Shit, fuck, damn.

  "Oh, yeah. The lady knows what I'm saying," Charley sang.

  There was, however, one way out.

  I lifted the Glock. I'd done it with Grier, and this guy was at least as bad. I could do it. Take him out, and save Tyler the way I couldn't save my mother.

  I started to depress the trigger, stopping only when Tyler very firmly said, "No."

  "It's the only option. He's right. You'll do time. All of you."

  "We've always known that was a risk," Tyler said. "I don't like to lose, but the possibility is inherent in the game. That's part of the thrill."

  I felt the tears streak my cheeks. "Let me do this. Let me do this so you can stay with me."

  "And destroy you in the process? Do you think I don't know how much Grier cost you? I'm not letting you add to that. Sloane," he said gently. "Put the gun down. Call the cops. Whatever happens, happens."

  Slowly, I lowered the gun. And I knew in that moment that I would never love anyone more than I loved this incredibly brave man.

  "Oh yeah, that's what I'm saying," Big Charley said. "This way's good, isn't it, Amy-doll. She's one of my favorites, and I've had so many. So pretty, and then they get thin and they're just for me. I let them eat off my boots. Lick them clean. Let them suck me off if they're really good. I don't fuck them--don't do that. But I've got to keep them under control. Make them supple. Make them touch themselves for me. And if they don't come, well, they don't get food. They just get thinner and thinner."

  He droned on, and I wasn't sure if it was blood loss or if he believed so firmly that he'd get off easy or if he was just plain crazy. All I knew was that I couldn't take it. All those girls. All that torture.

  Amy.

  And the thought that he might be out on the street again in thirty-six months. Maybe even less.

  My finger twitched on the trigger. I met Tyler's eyes, then looked at Charley.

  I have to. This time, it really will be justice.

  I didn't wait to see if he understood. I just lifted my gun and then, knowing that I was perfectly justified, I blew the devil back to hell.

  The paramedics assured us that Amy would be fine, then whisked her off to the hospital. Tyler and I were separated, each giving a statement to a different detective. I didn't know how this would shake down, but I wasn't too worried. Tyler had found another gun in Charley's office, and after firing off a round in the vault, he'd given it to the dead man, making what happened look remarkably like self-defense.

  When the cops were finished with us, I went to Tyler, who was waiting for me in the warehouse. I fell into his arms, and we sank to the floor, leaning against a Coke machine. "I love you," I said, then kissed him.

  He rose, and held out a hand for me. "Come on, Detective. Let's go home."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "Stay."

  We were in Grant Park, walking among the Agora, and I felt as lost as they were.

  Tyler tugged me to a stop. "Stay," he said again. "I love you, Sloane Watson. I don't want to lose you." He cupped my face with his hand. "I told you once that I always get what I want. That's you. Don't make a liar out of me."

  I managed the tiniest of smiles. "I want you, too," I said. "But I love my job. And maybe you're even right. Maybe I went into it in part to punish myself. To use the rules and the laws and all the strict procedure as a cage of sorts to punish myself for what I did. I don't know, but it doesn't matter."

  "It does matter," he said, but I shook my head.

  "No, because however I came into it, I really do believe in what I do. In finding justice for people who've been wronged."

  I drew in a breath, then laid out the horrible truth. "You're right. I can push the envelope. I can bend the rules. And, yeah, I can break a few. God knows I proved that. But I can't say that I'm sworn as an officer of the law when the man in my bed is breaking it at every turn. And not to save girls, but for profit."

  "Sloane--"

  I pressed a finger to his lips. I heard the anguish in his voice, but I had to keep going, because if I didn't finish this, I was afraid that I would back away from the decision. And I couldn't do that. So long as he and I did what we did, this was the right decision. It was the only decision.

  In the end, I think we both knew it.

  "Please," I said. "Let me finish. I love you. Dear god, I love you with a length and breadth I never even thought possible. And I will keep your secrets until the day I die. But if we're together--if it's the cop and the criminal--and I'm living that lie, it will chip away and chip away at me until I am no longer the woman you love."

  "Then don't live it," he said. "Quit."

  "You know better than that. It's who I am. You say you love me, and I know it's true. But, Tyler, you see me better than anyone, so you know I'm right. You know this is who I am."

  I managed a smile, thin and a little sad.

  "That's why I can't ask you to quit, either. You are the man you are--I'm not in love with some polished version of you. And I am in love with you. Desperately. Hopelessly."

  "You're breaking my heart, Sloane. Before you, I never thought it was possible."

  "I'm sorry," I said, as a tear traced down my cheek. "But I have to leave. I have to go home."

  Before I could stop him, he drew me close and pressed his lips to mine, soft yet firm. Possessive, yet tender.

  When he drew back, I saw the familiar fire in those ice blue eyes. "I won't try to change your mind. Not right now, anyway. But I want to say something, and I want you to listen. To really hear me. Okay?"

  I nodded.

  "You're right," he said. "I do see you. I see everything about you. The good, the bad, the courageous, the bold. I see a woman who fights for what's right. And, sweetheart you don't need a badge to do that."

  He lifted my hand and pressed a gentle kiss to my palm. "This may be goodbye," he said. "But it isn't the end."

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  "Isn't she the
most beautiful thing ever?" Candy said, cuddling her new baby daughter close. "My sweet little Brianna."

  "She's amazing," I said sincerely, and beside me Amy nodded agreement, still a bit shaky, but doing well after more than a week of recovery.

  "I didn't think I'd get to meet you," Amy said, bending over to stroke the infant's head. She turned to look at me, and I saw the gratitude in her eyes, now brimming with tears.

  "Do you want to hold her?" Candy asked Amy.

  "Oh, yes."

  "I'll get a chair," I said, then scooted one of the uncomfortable blue guest chairs closer to the bed.

  Amy took the baby, holding her as if she were glass, then started to softly sing. I watched them, then turned to smile at Candy. She gestured me over, and I moved to sit carefully on the side of her bed.

  "And how are you feeling, Mommy?"

  "Good. Tired. Although this one gave me less trouble than Sam."

  "Is he excited about having a little sister?"

  "Over the moon. Jim took him out to the store," she added, referring to the bartender she'd married, who was the love of her life. "Gonna buy little sis a stuffed rabbit. And maybe something for himself, too," she added with a wink.

  "I'm glad," I said, feeling foolishly sentimental. And trying very hard not to think of Tyler. Considering he seemed to be in my mind constantly, that wasn't an easy task.

  "So here I am, in this comfy bed with a television and my new baby and friends and people to wait on me. I'm doing fine," Candy said. "How are you doing?"

  "Great," I said, then conjured a perky smile.

  "She misses Tyler," Amy said, and I shot her a withering look. She just smiled. "Well, you do. When we drove back here after they let me out of the hospital, he saw us off. It was sappily romantic."

  Not romantic, I thought. Torture.

  I'd walked away. I'd left him behind. And though I'd been absolutely certain that was the right thing to do, now I was haunted by regret and memory, loneliness and loss.

  I moved to Candy and gave her and the baby quick kisses. "I'll come back tomorrow, okay? I have to run. I'm still on duty."

  That was a lie--I actually had the rest of the day off--but I wanted to get out of there. I loved Candy, but I needed to be alone.

  I'd been spending a lot of time alone. Alone and quiet, moving like a ghost through my own life. A life I used to love, but now it just seemed empty.

  My apartment seemed empty, too, I thought a half hour later as I approached my familiar blue door. I sighed, then slid the key into the lock. Maybe I should get a hamster. Just so there was some life to come home to.