by AJ Nuest
He glanced between the envelope and her trembling hand. “I can’t do that. You know it and so do I. For your protection, you need to come with me.”
A sigh heaved her shoulders, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Stupid, stubborn man.” She lifted her head, jaw clenched tight. “I was really hoping we could help each other out, but I see that’s no longer an option. Just remember, Detective, you brought this on yourself.”
Turning her head, she spoke to the side. “Time’s up.”
The lights flicked out and a pitch black wall slammed down around his eyes. Shit. Kelly scrambled for his cell phone and tapped the screen, hit the LED app and used the beam of light to scan the room. Empty. Except for the chairs, the card table and the stupid white envelope.
Growling, he snatched the letter off the table, crammed it in his pocket and sprinted for the door.
* * * *
Eden stepped into her waiting sneakers, her back pressed to the cold concrete of the stairwell, one hand resting on the exit to the roof. The access door slammed below her, and she stiffened, holding her breath. A bright light swept the metal banister, Detective Riordan cursed a blue streak, and she slowly exhaled as his pounding footsteps faded down the steps.
Idiot. She shoved through the door and twisted the lock, lifted her black coat off the drain pipe and shrugged it onto her shoulders. Okay, maybe idiot was too strong a word. The man had figured out her reason for meeting with him but, dammit, why did he have to be so bull-headed? Why couldn’t he just accept the information she’d given him and gone about his investigation so he could toss Ruby’s killer in jail?
Crouching low, she snuck over to an air-conditioning duct, the bottoms of her shoes crunching against the tar and gravel rooftop. She didn’t need to be looked after like some frail, defenseless woman. Another quick dart through the darkness, and she swung her leg over the side of the building, found the first rung of the fire escape and descended to the steel landing outside top floor. For God’s sake, she’d been at this long enough, she knew how to take care of herself, and she didn’t need some do-good cop hanging around judging her actions. Especially one with a dark head of thick wavy hair and piercing blue eyes that made her hot in places she’d long since thought were dead.
“Stupid broad shoulders,” she muttered, padding down the metal stairs. Stupid chiseled jaw and full, kissable lips. Sizing up the distance to the next building, she climbed onto the railing and held tight to the bar over her head. A short swing of her legs, and she dropped to the parallel fire escape with a soft bounce. And what was up with that ridiculous five o’clock shadow? And the low-slung jeans and leather jacket? Cops weren’t supposed to dress like that. Those frayed pockets and the way that worn denim stretched across his thighs was downright criminal. Hell, if the man was so bent on handing out tickets, maybe he should take a good hard look at himself.
She climbed the second fire escape to the roof and strode diagonally to the opposite side, hopped down to the adjoining building and kept moving. Her entire life she’d flown solo, and she’d turned out just fine.
His protection. She snorted. She didn’t need his protection any more than she needed his holier-than-thou ethics. In one afternoon, she’d gathered more information about Ruby’s killer than that thick-necked stiff had learned in three days. All it had taken was the right disguise and calling in one or two favors.
Word on the street was that Ruby had last been seen arguing with a tall man wearing a black fedora and tan trench coat. A shiver dislodged Eden’s shoulders. If the detective had simply read the description she’d given him, then maybe, just maybe she’d finally be able to get a good night’s sleep.
But, no. Instead, he’d acted like a typical cop, assuming he knew everything about her. Assuming he knew what was best. She stopped at the edge of a rooftop and peered over the side. The alley looked clear. No flashing lights or oncoming sirens. God, did he think she was a total moron? She tugged her cell from her coat pocket and speed-dialed Mocha’s number. The only reason he wanted her close was so he could lock her up the minute she stepped outside his precious rules.
“You get out, hon?” Mocha answered.
“Yeah, I’m clear.” She turned and climbed down the metal ladder attached to the building, bracing her cell against her ear with her shoulder. “I’m not sure if he believed me or not, but I did what I could.” She hopped to the metal grate.
“What was he like in person?”
God, how could she describe him? “Magnetic.” Smolderingly dangerous sex on a stick. She rounded the landing and continued down the fire escape, fingers skimming the railing. “He’s like the rock star version of a cop.” If that were even possible.
“Geesh, that sounds distressing.”
“It was a nightmare.” Eden sighed. “But it’s done and I’m on my way home. You and Tanner go ahead and pack up, and I’ll touch base with you in the morning. Don’t bother heading in to the office until you hear from me. Grant Dufferman’s out of commission for a few days, so we can afford to lay low.”
“’Kay. Sounds good. Be safe.”
Eden disconnected the call and stowed her phone in her pocket, circled down the rest of the stairs and approached the final ladder. A hard shove of the retracted section, and she plugged her ears as the rungs rattled the track to the ground. It didn’t matter how much noise she made. Even if the detective was still hanging around, she’d be long gone by the time he got here.
Swinging around, she braced her feet and hands on either side and slid quickly to the ground. Her sneakers hit the alley, and she shoved the ladder back up, waiting for it to swing into place.
One step left, and her head was wrenched back. Pain shot through her neck as a gloved hand slapped across her mouth. “Hello, Eden.”
Shit! A hot breath wheezed past her ear, and she whimpered, struggling against the fist in her hair, grappling with the hand clamped over her face. Her feet tangled, her shoulders twisted as her attacker spun and slammed her against a brick wall. “I’ve been looking for you.”
A male. But she didn’t recognize his voice.
Goddamn it, who was he? How in the hell had he found her?
Tears formed in her eyes as he jammed his knee into her lower back. The rough brick dug into her cheek, and she tried to claw at his face over her shoulder.
Her nails caught on a piece of material and rasped down the whiskers on his face. He hissed and jerked her back against his body. She elbowed his stomach and he yanked her head so hard, stars showered through her vision.
“Pretty little Eden, always looking to help a friend.” The flash of a jagged knife caught in her peripheral vision, and she screamed, kicking the wall to try and gain some distance. “Now it’s my turn for a little payback.” The blade edged near her throat, and she squeezed her eyes closed, praying for it to end fast.
“Your days of revenge are over.”
Chapter 5
“Freeze!”
The loud command echoed down the alley, and Eden was shoved forward. The wind was knocked from her lungs as her body smacked the brick wall. Pounding footsteps raced toward her, shouts and a skull-splitting gunshot. She tried to draw a breath and her throat squeaked, constricted. Her knees gave, and she stumbled to the side.
“Shit.” A large hand grabbed her upper arm, whirling her around.
She lifted her gaze to Detective Riordan, pointed at her neck and shook her head. No matter how hard she pulled, she couldn’t breathe!
“Arms up.” He seized her wrists and held them to either side of her head. The air whooshed into her chest, and she nodded. Yes, yes, better. “Keep your back straight. Don’t hunch over.” He cupped her cheeks. “Now purse your lips and blow.”
She blinked, trying to follow his instructions even as an unexpected chuckle tightened her stomach. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he blew a stream of air right along with her. Without question, that had to be the most insinuating piece of advice s
he’d ever gotten.
“Again.” He lifted her hands and she breathed deep, exhaling through her pursed lips. He held her cheeks, his thumbs clearing her tears, ran his hands down both sides of her neck and clasped her shoulders. “Better?”
“Yes.” She put her hand on her chest, filling her lungs a third time. Except, she couldn’t stop shaking, and the back of her head burned like someone held a blowtorch to her hair. “Thank you.”
“Are you hurt? Bleeding?” Stepping back, he looked her up and down, then moved one hand off her shoulder and held her face, his thumb brushing a sore spot on her cheek. “You’re shivering. Probably shock.” He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Here, put this on.”
She stuffed her arms into the sleeves and the heady scent of sandalwood filled her senses, heating her like the wind off a well-banked fire. Another shudder wracked her body, and she bit her bottom lip. Dammit, why did he have to smell like sandalwood? Of all the scents in the entire world, that one topped the charts as her nemesis.
Light from a nearby streetlamp winked off the silver St. Michael’s medallion strung on a black leather cord around his neck. A light-blue dress shirt hung unbuttoned down his torso, the thin material of his A-shirt stretched across the cut of his pecs and abs. And apparently his body had been Photoshopped. Fabulous. “I’ll have the paramedics give you the once-over as soon as they get here.”
“No, I don’t need any paramedics.” She’d been through worse and survived. A few bruises and a couple scrapes were no big deal. Besides, if she needed medical attention, she’d see her doctor. The MD she was positive kept her information safe.
She fingered the hair at the back of her head, clasped her throat and stretched her neck. “He cranked my head back, but I’d rather not file a report.” That would only send up a whole bunch of red flags, and she didn’t want her name on any police records. “I’m sure it’s nothing a long soak in a hot tub won’t fix.”
He cocked a brow. “Okay, if that’s the way we’re playing this, then I should really kick your ass.” He gripped her upper arm and urged her toward the entrance to the alley. “I told you this would happen, didn’t I? I told you, but you wouldn’t listen.”
She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, dragging her feet. The last thing she needed was him getting all high and mighty. Sirens wailed in the distance, and she rolled her eyes. Great. Here came the cavalry. A day late and a dollar short, as usual. If not for the man beside her, she’d already be dead in the alley.
A shiver traveled her spine, and she hugged his jacket tighter around her body. What she wanted was to slink off someplace quiet. Somewhere she’d be safe so she could try to figure out what had just happened.
She couldn’t afford a single misstep. For God’s sake, she’d just found out her attacker knew her name and what she did for a living.
They hit the street and Detective Riordan walked her toward a black, super-charged muscle car straight off the set of Fast & Furious, opened the passenger side door and jerked his thumb toward the seat. “In.”
So he could drive her straight to jail? No way. “I’m not—”
“You either get inside the car or I’m picking you up and putting you in.” One step forward and he leaned close, gritting his teeth, their noses almost touching. “You hear those sirens? Five cruisers were dispatched the second you pulled that disappearing act. Now get in the car before I change my mind or, I swear to God, filing a report is going to be the least of your problems.”
She squinted, studying his face. He was helping her? Not likely. Not unless something was in it for him, but it wasn’t like he’d given her much choice.
“Five cruisers?” She batted her lashes. “Why, Detective. You flatter me.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she smiled sweetly, climbing into the car.
The door slammed just as a very healthy, athletic, blond bum jogged from the alley, and Eden huffed. Seriously? This was the best disguise they could come up with?
Cops. She sneered. They never got anything right.
“Hey.” He waved at Detective Riordan and slowed, his voice muffled through the windshield. “He rabbited, but Ramirez is still circling around, checking the area with a search light.”
Detective Riordan glanced over his shoulder and she twiddled her fingers, smiling through the window. Turning his back to her, he spoke so low, she couldn’t hear anything he was saying. Annoying, but he couldn’t do a thing about her decision. If she didn’t want to file a report, he couldn’t force her.
The blond bum nodded, his forehead furrowed. He leaned to the side and his brown eyes met hers through the windshield. One of his eyebrows rose, and he straightened, mumbling something as he shook his head.
Detective Riordan spoke again and blondie scratched the side of his face, his mouth twisted to the side. Eden sat back in the seat and crossed her arms. Whatever this was about, they’d better hurry it up. She darted a glance up and down the darkened streets. The longer they sat here, the higher the risk she’d be yanked out of the car and dragged off into the night.
“Thanks.” Detective Riordan held out his hand and the two men shook. “I’ll be in touch.” He pivoted toward the car and climbed inside, slamming the door as the blond dude jogged back into the alley.
Turning toward her, he offered her that same hand. “Detective Kelly Riordan.”
She glanced between his fingers and the determination concreted on his face. What, like they were starting over?
Oh, God. Her shoulders fell. He was introducing himself in hopes of learning her name.
“I could always call you Tinker Bell if you want.”
Um, no. “Eden Smith.” She clasped his hand and gave it one brief pump.
Dumb. Admitting her real name had been really, really dumb. But, for some ridiculous reason, giving him an alias seemed wrong. Too…childish after what she’d just been through. God knew, if she were attacked again and the worst were to happen, Detective Riordan might be the only one around to identify her body.
“Smith, huh?” He jammed the key into the ignition and the engine roared, vibrating her seat. “A guy saves your life and you can’t even tell him your real name. Nice.”
Her stomach clenched, but she kept her focus on the street. That was flipping brilliant. Irony at its best. She’d actually told him the truth, and not only did he accuse her of lying, he’d managed to pick at her worst scab. Kelly Riordan didn’t have the first clue how that jab defined everything about her.
“I don’t know it.” She never had. “Smith came along with the adoption papers.”
Though it was pretty much guaranteed Smith wasn’t Malcolm’s real last name either and, in the three years they’d been together, he’d been more her teacher than father.
Detective Riordan put the car in gear and peeled away from the curb. “Sorry to hear that.” He tipped his head. “Being stuck with the name Kelly hasn’t exactly been a treat, either.”
She scowled, even though she appreciated the fact he was trying to empathize. Make her feel less…she didn’t know. Inadequate? Misplaced?
“I love the name Kelly. It’s a color.” Just like all the personas in her closet.
“Try telling that to an eight-year-old boy attending catholic prep. You’ll get yourself a black eye.”
She huffed, canting to the side as he veered left. The buildings whizzed by as he floored the gas, and she sat forward, grabbing the dash to search the night for any familiar landmarks. “Wait, where are you taking me?”
“Someplace safe.” He checked the rearview mirror and took the next right.
Uh-uh. She wasn’t about to let him box her up like some porcelain doll, hidden away where she wouldn’t have access to any of her resources. Yes, he was trying to help her. He’d come to her rescue and saved her life. And yes, he’d earned a small measure of her trust by not immediately turning her in. But she didn’t know anything about the people he
worked with, how many of them would be informed of her location or whether or not he could keep his mouth shut. For God’s sake, who was to say her attacker hadn’t been that guy he’d just talked to outside his car?
In order to be truly safe, she needed to be aware of her surroundings. In a location she’d determined was far enough off the beaten track to be secure.
She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, his attention continuously flicking between the street and the side mirrors. He was going to fight her. Without a doubt, he would insist she be stashed at the site of his choosing, but she had to at least try to get him to see reason. Otherwise this trip would be a wasted effort. “I have a place.”
He grunted and the tires shimmied over the road as he palmed the wheel right. “I’m not taking you home. It’s too dangerous.”
“No, not my condo. Another place.” She kept several spots throughout the city. She always had. Prepped and ready in case she needed to disappear.
A harsh breath flared his nostrils, and he shook his head.
“Look, I could lie to you and say fine, I’ll go wherever you want, but don’t be surprised the second your back is turned and I’m gone. You know I can do it, so you might as well save us both the hassle and just take me where I want to go.”
Sharing the address with him would be risky, but it would only be for one night. As soon as she was alone, she could phone Malcolm and figure out her next move. “I’m trusting you, Detective Riordan. Something I don’t do very easily. Take that for what it’s worth. You don’t know who could’ve been involved in what happened to me tonight and neither do I. There were too many people made aware of our meeting. All due respect to your department, but someone could’ve talked. Now, I’m telling you, my place is safe. Safer than wherever it is you’re driving me.”
He eased back on the gas, fingers repeatedly flexing and clenching the wheel, and her focus lingered over the three, black leather cords knotted around his wrist. A deep breath lifted his chest, and he slowly exhaled. “God, woman, you’re a pain in the ass.”