The Naughty Nine: Where Danger and Passion Collide

by Nina Bruhns

  “Why? Did you find out who messed with my brakes?”

  “Not yet.” He glanced at Justin, then stepped closer, lowered his voice. “Keith is out on bail.”

  Her anxiety level spiked immediately. “He won’t find us here.”

  “If he does, he won’t be able to get anywhere near you.”

  As she looked at Joe’s face, she could tell he meant it. He was going to protect her.

  She’d thought that about Keith at first. She couldn’t let herself fall into that fantasy again. She needed to learn to protect herself.

  She had made mistakes in the past, and she couldn’t afford another. It wasn’t only her life at stake. She was responsible for two babies.

  “When I told you we were having a baby, I didn’t mean it like I expect things from you because of that.”

  An annoyed frown wrinkled his forehead. “You have every right to expect things from me.”

  “I’m not asking for any kind of support.”

  “Well, I’m not going to be a deadbeat dad.” He swore under his breath. “How could something like this even happen?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Considering the precautions we took, a pregnancy doesn’t seem possible.”

  “You’re welcome to come to my twelve-week checkup tomorrow. There’ll be an ultrasound.”

  “I do believe that you’re pregnant. I’m sorry about before. You’re not a liar.”

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe me, but it feels really nice that you do.”

  “I’m having a hard time dealing with the baby, because I haven’t even dealt with the other stuff yet.”

  “What other stuff?”

  His eyes filled with heat. “I want you. I want you all the time. I lost all interest in other women.” He reached out and took her hands, then pulled her to him slowly. And then he pressed his lips to hers.

  Electricity zinged through her instantly, longing mixed with desire. For a moment, her brain short-circuited and she let herself sink into the kiss. He was so incredibly gentle. He didn’t rush, didn’t pressure her. He was just showing her what could be, and the glimpse of that took her breath away.

  She was falling, falling. But softly, like a feather.

  He made her feel.

  So incredibly unfair.

  She pulled back, even if every cell of her protested. “We can’t do this.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re having a baby. I don’t want to complicate things.”

  “We have six more months to figure the baby thing out,” he said. “Why don’t we figure out all this other stuff in the meantime?”

  Because the other stuff was scary. Joe was somehow bigger than life. She didn’t want to lose herself to him. She’d lost herself to Keith, and she hadn’t even recovered from that yet. “Don’t you have someplace to be? A night shift or something?”

  “You better get used to having me around.” He gave a half smile. “You can’t kick me out.”

  Right. They were at his place. That kiss had fogged up her mind. She cringed. “Sorry.”

  He shook his head. Gave a rueful smile. “Okay. To clear the air, I don’t know how I feel about a baby. I had a bad experience with an ex. So it’s probably a hang-up with me, which is stupid, because you’re nothing like her. I’m going to work through that, because this is not fair to you. And….” His gaze dropped to her lips.

  She pressed them together. “And?”

  He glanced at Justin, who was busy with the cat in the living room, then back at her. He lowered his voice as he said, “I want to kiss you. I want to keep kissing you. I want you upstairs, in my bed, naked, with your mysterious gray eyes rolled back in your head with pleasure. That part I’m pretty clear about. Except, I’m also supposed to protect you, which complicates things. Although probably not enough to hold me back.”

  The air stuck in her lungs as heat flooded her, every nerve ending in her body springing alive from the picture he’d painted.

  He ran his long fingers up her arm. “If this isn’t what you want, you have to tell me. Your choice.”

  Good grief, her brain was so scrambled she could barely remember her own name. “Can I think about this?”

  “Is it going to take long?”

  “Jeez, no pressure.”

  His chiseled lips stretched into a slow smile. “Take all the time you need.” He kissed her again.

  Swear to God, if he had a comic-book hero name, it would have been Wonder Lips. He could disarm her just by dragging his mouth across hers. By the time he swept inside to fully taste her, her brain was melting.

  She had to stop letting him kiss her like this.

  She was supposed to gain control of her life. But control was a fantasy word around Joe. In the end, she wasn’t the one to stop the kiss, but Justin, yelling, “I’m hungry!” from the living room.

  They pulled apart. She took a quick step back, pressing her lips together.

  Joe flashed her a heated smile, then picked up the cordless. “What would you and Justin like, pizza or Chinese?”

  “Justin likes pizza.”

  He ordered, then set the phone back into its cradle. “I’ll wash up before dinner.”

  “I’ll set the table,” she offered.

  “Out of curiosity,” he said a few minutes later, coming from the laundry room, “do you know if Keith owns a weapon?”

  “Yes. That’s why I got mine.”

  “You have a weapon? Where is it now?”

  She nodded toward the top of his fridge. She’d brought the cookie tin with her from her apartment.

  Joe strode over, grabbed the tin, and looked inside. “Loaded?”

  She nodded. “The safety is on, and I put it out of reach. I should have told you. You left before I thought of it.”

  “It’s not a problem. You know how to use it?” He put the tin back.

  “I took classes.” She’d snuck classes. Made sure Keith wouldn’t find out about them. “I can hit my target.” She filled her lungs. “You probably think I’m stupid, having a gun and still letting Keith hurt me.”

  “Discharging a firearm is not to be taken lightly. Once you pull the trigger, you can never take it back, or what happens after that. Most cops never discharge their service weapons during their entire careers, other than for target practice. You do everything you can to avoid having to reach that point.”

  He glanced toward the cookie tin, then back at her. “If you had no other choice, could you pull the trigger?”

  She nodded without hesitation. “I don’t want to. But if I have to, I can do it.”

  “Good.”

  He surprised her. She’d expected a lecture, to have to defend having a gun in the first place. But Joe was not Keith. He kept proving that over and over again. She hoped one of these days she would be able to believe it, accept it on a visceral level, on the level where her fears currently lived.

  The doorbell rang as pizza delivery arrived. Joe went to get it, brought the red-and-white box in.

  “Pizza, pizza!” Justin ran out to the kitchen, Pirate Prince all but forgotten.

  Joe went to let the cat out. By the time he came back, Wendy had gotten everyone glasses from the cupboard.

  Joe chatted with Justin while they ate, the two laughing easily together. Their quick connection, the warmth and the joy of the scene scared the living daylights out of her.

  Here was everything she never dared to admit that she wanted.

  Now what?

  She was living with Joe. Keith was out of jail. Somebody wanted her dead.

  And all she could think about was kissing Joe again.

  When she’d decided to take charge of her life, she’d envisioned peace and security. She clenched her teeth. She would have those things. She would never give Keith control again. But Joe….

  What was she willing to give him?

  * * *

  Joe slept poorly.

  He kept thinking about Wendy, in his house, jus
t down the hall. He’d wanted her to take the master bedroom with Justin, but she insisted on the guest bedroom with the pullout couch. And because he knew making her own decisions was important to her, he didn’t push.

  He woke early, shaved, checked his e-mail, caught up with some old friends on the Internet. Wendy started moving around upstairs around eight, running water in the bathroom.

  He was looking forward to seeing her at breakfast, but he needed to do one more thing first. The first shift would be in by now. He dialed Harper.

  “Found anything interesting at the hospital yesterday?”

  “The hospital only provided the room for the anger management group. Brogevich led it as a volunteer service. He didn’t have patient records on the people, because they weren’t really patients. It was a support group, people coming and going.”

  Joe thought for a moment. “How about a log-in sheet for the group sessions? Wouldn’t the people have to sign in with security?”

  “Technically. Except all the sign-up sheets are dumped into giant file boxes that are discarded after a couple of months. And even the records they do have are little more than scribbles. I had a cursory look. Couldn’t make out half those signatures.”

  Joe rubbed his thumb over his eyebrow. “Does the warrant extend to the sign-up sheets?”

  “It does now,” Harper said. “I had it amended. I’ll take the boxes home and go through a couple tonight, get a magnifying glass. Can’t do work like that at the office. There’s a call coming in every five minutes. I was in and out all day yesterday. Had a runaway teen we found hiding in the garage. But I spent most of the day mediating between neighbors who like to set dog shit on fire on each other’s porches. Maybe it’s the full moon.”

  “Either that or spring fever,” Joe told him. “I’m on protection detail for the next couple of days. If you can drop the boxes off at my place, I’ll go through them.”

  “That’d be great.”

  He was hanging up as Wendy padded down the stairs.

  He pushed up from the couch and walked over. “Justin?”

  “Still sleeping.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “I’ll wait for him, if you don’t mind. We have a little routine.”

  That was fine; he wasn’t hungry yet either. “Coffee?”

  At that, she smiled. “Oh God, yes, please.”

  She was barefoot, wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt, all that blonde hair pulled back into a simple ponytail, no makeup.

  He couldn’t look away from her. “Still making your decision about us?”

  She nodded.

  “No pressure,” he said and then he kissed her.

  He went in slow. He liked to take things slowly. Gave him more time to enjoy the process. That she relaxed against him instead of stiffening was gratifying.

  She was beginning to trust him. That could be the start of something.

  He inhaled the scent of her citrusy face cream, mixed with the scent of minty toothpaste. He rubbed his lips over hers, doing nothing more than enjoying the contact, enjoying that he had her in his morning.

  She cut to the core of him.

  That was new. He’d never had that before. Afterward, he would wonder, as he’d done before, if the kiss had been as potent, as powerful, as primal as he had it built up in his head. But it was, each and every time with Wendy. Nobody had ever felt this right.

  He put his arms around her and gathered her closer. She didn’t pull against the restraint as he half expected. She put her arms around him.

  He was hard as rock all over, but he didn’t let that hurry him.

  He nibbled her lips, kissed the corners of her mouth, nudged her into opening for him. Slow exploration was the name of the game. He tasted her, drank her in, kept that slow, easy mood, even if part of him wanted her then and there on the stairs.

  Worth waiting for.

  And waiting wasn’t difficult, not with her slim body filling his arms, her lips pressed against his, a soft, soft sound of pleasure rising from her throat.

  He drank his fill of her before he pulled away.

  “That was no pressure?” she asked weakly, still hanging on to him.

  “Think of it as a sample of coming attractions.”

  She gathered herself. Stepped away. “You don’t play fair.”

  He wasn’t playing at all, he realized. Not with Wendy.

  Deathblow: Chapter Fourteen

  Wendy spent the morning taking care of Justin and working with Sophie over the phone to set up her own website for a serious photography business. She didn’t have a studio, for now, but she could do on-location work.

  She needed to find some future income beyond the royalties she made from taking stock photos and posting them in online databases. Once she began showing, a few more weeks if she was lucky, the modeling gigs would come to an end. Even maternity wear wasn’t advertised with real pregnant women, but with models who wore padding. Nobody wanted to see swollen ankles.

  Joe spent most of his morning in his bedroom with a load of file boxes someone dropped off for him. She could also hear him on the phone, his voice a low murmur, setting up something important judging by the urgent, hushed conversations. He was investigating his friend’s death, and something else, something big.

  When lunchtime rolled around, he came down and announced that he was taking them to the diner. So she bundled up Justin, and they went with him.

  The Broslin Diner was packed, people lined up two-deep at the counter to pick up their takeout orders.

  “Oh my goodness, there you are!” Eileen greeted them as if they were family. “I was about to call Joe to ask him how I can reach you,” she told Wendy as she seated them in the only free booth and handed Justin a box of crayons from her half apron.

  She dramatically swept her free hand toward the display case behind her. “Sales of take-home baked goods have been up over twenty percent since you rearranged the display. I’ve been meticulously keeping the order.” Her smile widened. “Nobody walks by the display case anymore. People stop and look. And then they buy.”

  “Really?” How nice. Wendy smiled back. Has she gotten something right for a change?

  “Cecilia at Cecilia’s Broslin Boutique a couple of doors down wants your phone number. The girl who did the window display quit. Cecilia could use your help. And would be happy to pay,” Eileen added. “Me too. Your lunch is on me. And if you could come in maybe once a month and rearrange to keep things interesting, I’d love that. Let me know your fee.”

  Wendy blinked. “Okay, sure.”

  Eileen put a piece of paper in front of her on the table. “I can pass on your number.”

  Wendy thanked her as she wrote down her contact information, then they ordered. She went with chicken in a mushroom sauce and shared it with Justin. Joe asked for the lunch combo platter.

  “When did this happen?” he asked after Eileen left. He scanned the display case. “I didn’t know you did window dressing.”

  “Me neither.” She smiled. “But I think it would be fun. I’ve been surrounded by fashion most of my life, listening to designers and photographers discuss color and composition and harmony and contrast. And sales,” she added. “I suppose some of that stuck with me. Do you think I could run a business on my own successfully?” Then she quickly said, “Wait. Don’t answer that. Yes, I can.”

  He smiled at her. “That’s the spirit.”

  “I’m trying. It’s scary to do something new all alone. With the modeling, there’s a whole team around me. I’m not responsible for everything.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  She bit her lip. She’d felt so incredibly isolated this past year, keeping secrets from the few friends Keith hadn’t been able to run off. Secrets were like walls. They were nasty little things that boxed you in. Well, she was done with them.

  “Eileen does it, right?” She looked toward the woman. “She runs this diner by herself and even has employees.” She sighed. “I really envy how st
rong she is. And look at Sophie, overcoming all that life threw her way this past year. Maybe there’s something in the water here.”

  “Maybe you should move to Broslin permanently,” he suggested lightly.

  “No, thanks.” She had no intention of moving from the apartment. She pushed away the idea as Joe told Justin they were going to the display to pick dessert.

  He didn’t have a million rules, definitely not about diet. She liked that, she thought, as she looked after him.

  Joe chatted with Eileen while Justin considered his choices, then he squatted down to her son’s level to point things out.

  Eileen came over, slipped into the booth across the table from Wendy, flashed that warm, motherly smile that kept people coming back to the diner. “Joe asked me to share a little of my story with you. He didn’t tell me why. I didn’t ask. You take pictures. Maybe you work for a newspaper and you’re doing research for a story on abused women. I was one.”

  Wendy shifted, uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. She’d just admitted her dark secret to her best friend. She so wasn’t ready to discuss the topic with strangers.

  She opened her mouth to deny that abuse was an issue for her, personally, but then she stopped herself. No more clinging to secrets. No more boxing herself in and away from everybody. She wasn’t ready to share yet, but she wasn’t going to lie about it either.

  “I’m really sorry,” she told Eileen.

  But the woman shook her head. “It made me stronger. It made me who I am today.”

  She reached to her mouth, and Wendy nearly fell out of her seat when Eileen popped out her teeth. She held her dentures hidden in her hands under the table.

  Oh.

  Her lips collapsed without the support, making her look ten years older. The contrast was so incredibly harsh in comparison to the soft, mature beauty she normally possessed that Wendy caught her breath.

  This time when Eileen smiled, she kept her lips together. “My ex-husband used to beat me on a daily basis. When I moved out, he found me and knocked my teeth out. He choked me so hard, I was unconscious for twenty minutes. A good thing. He thought I was dead, so he left.”