“No one is forgetting the victim! The task force is doing everything we can to find the girl and get enough evidence to lock up this Angel for good.”
Which is all they could do to him, considering the state of Illinois no longer had the death penalty on the table.
“But the task force still hasn’t made progress that I’ve heard. Plus, you don’t know Sandy Kawecki personally.” Not that she really did, either, but he didn’t have to know that. She was using that fact to elicit his sympathy. Rodriguez wasn’t usually a hard ass, especially not when it came to a case like this one. “You aren’t responsible for her being taken by this bastard. I am.”
“Let me remind you again. You’re off the case.”
“Officially,” she agreed.
She locked gazes with him, willed him to give her the unspoken okay to keep working on it. Instead, his eyes again filled with his disappointment in her.
“When you walked in here, you said you would take a step back.”
“I meant I wouldn’t interfere or insist on assisting with the official investigation.”
“Not good enough.” Rodriguez shook his head. “You’re hurting yourself, Martell. I’m telling you, for your own good, to stop and leave the investigation to the task force.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but my conscience tells me otherwise.”
His tone held steel. “There’s no room in this department for a vigilante.”
She’d heard some similar stories about him in his early days, but she didn’t think it prudent to say so. Silence was her only option at the moment.
Glaring at her, he said, “I don’t know what your deal is, but you need to quell it or your may just lose your job. For good.”
With that, he walked away, leaving Camille shaking inside. If that happened…no, it couldn’t happen…not over one mistake that she had to fix. No choice. Besides, she was good at what she did. Maybe great. Okay, so she was a little shaky on this one.
But if there was someone to rein her in…to give her a boost when needed…
That someone was Drago Nance.
It all came down to a man she never thought she would see again and how well he would work with her. Would he follow orders from her? Would he support her in a way that would keep her out of more trouble when she knew that he could be trouble with a capital T?
She couldn’t lose her job. Being a homicide detective was who she was. It was her life. Her identity. If she didn’t have this, what then?
She would be left with nothing.
—
A knot tied up his gut as Drago waited for Camille. In her current state, was she good enough to convince Rodriquez to get her that search warrant? He didn’t know her lieutenant personally. Didn’t want to know the man. Or any cop. They’d pretty much been a disappointment to him his entire life.
Including his brother.
As part of the force, Justus had let him cool his heels in Cook County for more than six months. His own brother had refused to bail him out as he damn well could have and should have.
Drago loved his brother but resented him, too. Didn’t matter that Justus had walked off the job over Drago’s incarceration. That Drago had been punished because he was too passionate about the damage done to a friend had been the last straw for Justus. He might call himself a PI now, but at heart, he was still the cop he’d always been. They were so different, Drago thought. While they might have the same goal to bring satisfaction to victims either of criminals or of the system itself, they had very different ways of getting down to business.
He was just thinking that Camille was more like Justus than him when she came out of the building. He revved the engine and pulled the car out of its slot, stopping just as she reached the curb.
She threw herself into the passenger seat without saying a word. Her expression was telling, though. She was anything but happy.
“Rodriguez wouldn’t get the search warrant?”
“No, he did. Rather he had Eli Jackson handle it. Jackson worked with me on the task force. Now he’s heading it.”
“And?”
“The paperwork was just sent over to Judge Andrew Garrison, who I hope will rubber stamp it the moment he reads it.”
“What do we do in the meantime?”
“Run home long enough to let Max out.”
“You’re just going to leave? Not follow the team back to Connect Chicago?”
“I don’t want Rodriguez to know Jackson is feeding me info. He doesn’t need trouble, too. The moment he faxed the paperwork to the judge, Jackson texted me and said he’d let me know when they’d done the search and he had something.”
“And you’re sure he will?”
She nodded. “When he gets the search warrant, he’ll take a couple of uniforms to find the info, but they’ll be in a squad. He’ll be in his own vehicle, so when he texts me, no one will be any wiser. In the meantime, we might as well do something productive.”
Concentrating on the dog would destress her for a little while anyway, Drago thought.
“Okay.” Pulling out of the lot, he just hoped she wasn’t in for a disappointment from this Jackson, but he was also hoping for the best. Surely she knew the people she worked with and what they would and would not do for her. Obviously Jackson had a connection with Camille, or he would have frozen her out. “Home it is, then.”
Camille didn’t live far from her office, less than a ten-minute drive north. Her bungalow was half a block east of the river. He parked at the curb for a quick getaway once they got word. She ran in to get Max, who blasted his way out the front door. On his leash, the excited dog didn’t know whether to run circles around her or to find a tree. He even gave Drago a sniff and a tail thump. That piece of bacon he’d given the dog that morning had obviously won him over.
In turn, Drago ruffled the dog’s ears. “Hey, boy, wanna go for a walk?”
Max barked and tore off in the direction of the river, forcing Camille into running until she was able to get him under control and slow down to a fast stroll.
“Thanks,” she muttered over her shoulder.
Drago grinned at her. “Anytime. You needed something to loosen you up.”
She let the dog lead them down to the riverbank area, grown over with plantings, every minute or so checking her cell for a text that didn’t come.
Maybe her stress wasn’t as relieved as Drago thought it would be. “Give him some time.”
“I’m not rushing Max.”
“I meant Jackson.”
“Oh.”
“You said he’d update you, so he will, right?”
“Right.”
“Then give him enough time to get what he needs before you start worrying.” He figured using the word “obsessing” might insult her.
She shoved her cell into her pants pocket.
They walked for a few minutes, letting Max explore on a long leash until he got tired of smelling every tree and rock and flower and came to them, forcing himself between them as they headed back for the house.
Drago said, “About the dog…”
“What about him?”
“We can’t keep doing this while we’re trying to find the girl. Coming back to walk and feed him multiple times a day. Do you have anyone who can take care of him for a day or two?”
He hoped to God they would find the girl quicker than that, but with no lead yet, all he had was hope.
“Yeah, well, I kinda used up my credit with my neighbors.” She gave the house next door a sad look as they passed it. “And my parents are more than thirty miles away.”
“Siblings?” He didn’t even know if she had any.
“My sister, Flora, is in New York temporarily.”
“Friends?”
“Other cops.”
Who were probably on the task force she formerly headed.
He tried again. “Your vet?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
But she didn’t look so sure. Her brow was furrowed and her lu
sh mouth was turned down in a frown.
“I hope he can wait long enough for you to come home if we get on a hot trail.”
“I get your point. It’ll have to be tomorrow, though. Vet’s already closed for the day.”
Stopping on the steps to her house, she pulled out her cell and shook her head. Then texted something at rapid speed. She stared a hole through the cell but no returning ding.
“Jackson is probably in the midst of the search now.”
Sighing, she slid the cell back into her pocket and opened the door.
Max leaped into the house and headed straight for the kitchen. She followed the dog and gave him food and fresh water. Then went back into the living room, where Drago was staring out the window. A glance at her told him the walk hadn’t relaxed her at all. Her muscles were taut with tension. He could read anxiety in her expression.
Trying to get her to think about something else for a while, he said, “That text could come through at any time. Or not. I have some other ideas to track this bastard, but that means leaving, not knowing when we’ll be back. Why so reluctant to find a place to keep Max so we can keep full focus on the case?”
She shrugged. “I know I’m a cop, but now I don’t even have my Glock to protect me. Rodriguez made me turn it in along with my star. Besides, living alone in a house, I feel better having a set of ears that can hear any strange noises better than mine can.”
That she admitted to some fear of living alone, if in a roundabout way, surprised him. It also surprised him that she wasn’t wearing a backup piece. “You won’t have to worry about strange noises. My hearing is spot on.”
She gaped at him, then said, “Who invited you to stay?”
“Don’t worry, I can fit on the couch.” The last place he wanted to spend the night. He gave it a good look, then crooked an eyebrow at her. “Unless you want me in your bed, of course.”
“You must think you’re irresistible!”
He took a step closer. “Am I?” Though he knew starting up with her was the last thing he should want, he didn’t always make wise choices.
She shoved a hand on his chest. “Well, why don’t you go find a woman who thinks so!”
“Pretty sure I already have.”
He slid a hand along the one planted in the middle of his chest, followed it upward—slowly, oh so slowly—to her elbow. She had the opportunity to pull away. To shove him from her. To tell him to go to hell.
She looked like she wanted to say it.
She looked like she wanted to fuck him.
He’d take the second.
Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, he urged her closer. Slowly. Never forcing her. Never taking his eyes from hers. He noted the shade of panic in her irises. The deeper desire in her pupils. He was so close he could climb inside her mind through those gorgeous eyes. He waited for her to stop him, but only for a second. Then he kissed her, pushing her up against the wall next to the windows the way he had in that hotel room…
Lost in the kiss, he makes it last next to forever. He wants her more than anything. His body is ready for hers. But is she ready for him?
He pulls back so he can see into her beautiful green eyes. He cups her cheek and rubs a thumb along her soft skin. “Are you sure about this?”
She blinks at him. Uncertainty flashes through her expression.
Fighting disappointment, he says, “It’s not too late to change your mind.” Though her changing her mind might undo him.
Then she asks, “Are you ready for this?”
“Hell, yes!”
“Then kiss me…”
He sucked her tongue into his mouth.
Nipped her jaw.
Laved her ear.
Bit her neck.
And her body was vibrating with renewed life.
“You’re remembering, aren’t you?” he murmured. “That first day in the hotel room.”
He remembered…
She pulses against him. Rubs her breasts over his chest. Rotates her hips until she finds his heat. Silently uses her body to beg for it. To demand it.
He pulls her hand from where it still presses against his chest. “Touch me.”
“Show me.”
He slides her hand down his stomach. His hardened flesh jumps at her when she finds him through his jeans.
“Is that what you want?” she whispers.
“I want you in ways you couldn’t imagine.”
She moans and he thinks he might never breathe again as he pushes himself against her clever fingers.
For three days, Camille had made him forget everything but her. He was enticed by her body…her smile…her take-charge personality…her softness. For three days, she’d made him feel like he was her world.
Remembering was all he’d had while he’d been incarcerated.
Camille was doing it to him again. His heart was beating so hard that he could feel his pulse race as his dick hardened. She had him the second she slid her fingers along the length of his flesh. He forced distractions on himself so he wouldn’t come without her. His mind went to the dog. Max. Where was he? Why wasn’t the dog here, trying to join them in play? Not that he was about to actually look around to find the dog and take his attention off the woman who had him in hand.
Drago didn’t want her to get him off like this. He slipped his hand over hers and held her wrist. “Not like that. Not now.” He brushed his mouth over hers and trailed his lips over her cheek to whisper in her ear. “I want to fill you deep and sweet.” He wanted to make her come so hard that she would make that sexy guttural sound that reminded him of weeping.
She relaxed and let him take the lead. But he’d barely pulled her shirt free from her pants when a noise from her pocket froze them as they were.
A text had just come through.
Drago tried to keep his disappointment in check as he stepped back to give them both room to recover. What the hell had he been thinking when he started this? It seemed he had no will around her.
Hand trembling, Camille pulled her cell phone from her pocket and poked the screen to get her message. Her eyes widened as she read and then met his.
“Got him!”
Chapter Six
The police vehicles were already at the curb of a three-story multiunit brick apartment building by the time they arrived at the address Jackson had texted her. The man who called himself Angel on the Internet was really Paul Fox. As Drago drove, she’d already looked for it in the CPD database on her cell phone but got nothing on the man.
The instant Drago stopped the car, Camille reached for the door handle as the detective and two uniformed officers approached the front entry. One of the men was tall and whipcord thin, the other average height and broad.
Drago grabbed her arm. “And where do you think you’re going? You’re not on the case, remember? Jackson is simply showing you respect by keeping you in the loop.”
She knew he was correct, but it didn’t make her want to stay put. Still, she held herself in check and didn’t try to leave the car. Instead, she moved away from the door and was relieved when he let go of her arm.
“I can’t stand it.”
And she didn’t just mean her need to know what was going on. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t shut off her hormones permanently around Drago Nance? Even now, longing swept through her. If Jackson’s text hadn’t come through when it had, she feared they would be in bed now. Or on the floor. Or on the kitchen table. She couldn’t turn off her erotic impulses. Nor her imagination. Even now, with so much riding on this lead panning out, she was aware of how close Drago was, especially when he reached under the seat, his shoulder brushing her knee. She shivered and caught her breath.
“Give me a second and you’ll be informed,” he said, pulling something free.
She saw it was a sound amplifier. He plugged it into the dash and the car’s speakers and aimed the microphone at the building just as the entrance door creaked open. But rather than a man answering, a
skinny woman with frizzed graying hair and Coke-bottle glasses stood there, looking indignant at the interruption.
“Who are you and what do you want?”
“Detective Jackson, Chicago Police.” He showed her his star and ID. “We’re looking for Paul Fox.”
“Then why’d you buzz me?”
“You live in apartment 2B?”
“Yeah, but my name is Minny Thomas, just like it says there.” She pointed to the panel with the doorbells. “I don’t know any Paul Fox.”
“She’s got to be lying,” Camille said.
“Maybe.”
“How long have you been living here?” Jackson asked the woman.
“A coupla months. You wanna know about the former tenant, ask the owner over at Welby Realty on Madison.”
“We’ll do that. But the Internet company is still billing your address. Are you using the Internet connection?”
“Ain’t got no use for a computer. No money, neither.”
“Can we come up and take a look in your apartment?”
“What do you think I have stashed up there? I ain’t got no money or drugs or nothin’! All right, all right—come on up. Then you can get outta my hair.”
Jackson had the taller officer wait outside and followed the woman into the building with the other officer. Other than the mike picking up street sounds, the speakers went silent.
“Great.” Camille felt as if her chest was encased in a vise. “One way or the other, looks like it’s a false lead.”
“Give them some time to see what’s what.”
“The clock is ticking.” She glanced at the digital on the dash. “It’s been twenty-four hours.”
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