by Kylie Brant
“I hear he was on the amateur circuit before joining the academy. From all accounts, he made a name for himself but chose police work instead.”
From there, the conversation turned to her training in Muay Thai, the gym facility, and eventually to Ryne’s car, which he confessed he’d bought because he’d always coveted one when he was a teenager. And the talk of innocuous subjects had something in Abbie easing. She didn’t have to explain her family to Ryne or anyone else. Which left her time to worry about how she was going to get Callie to meet her face-to-face and try to convince her to go back on her medication. To return to therapy.
And for now she wasn’t going to consider just how she was going to accomplish either task.
“Thanks for the ride.”
Ryne got out when Abbie did and reached into the backseat to retrieve her gym bag. She hadn’t bothered to change before accepting his offer of a ride home. For that matter, neither had he. After filing the police report and then an incident report for the gym, she’d been ready to call it a day. She still needed to contact the rental agency and order a replacement vehicle. Not to mention dealing with the insurance hassle that was sure to follow.
Her mood darkened again at the thought. It didn’t improve any when Ryne ignored her outstretched hand and instead carried her bag to her back door. He had been suspiciously good-natured about the events of the day. But now that she was home again, she was anxious to have him gone, a fact that made her feel churlish.
So she squelched the urge to tell him she could handle things from here and took the house key from her bag to unlock the door. He walked through it and she immediately regretted her action.
The man had a presence that left an indelible impression. The only other time he’d spent here had been brief, but ever since, she’d pass through a doorway and have a mental flash of him framed in it. Each time she looked at the pictures on the mantel, she’d have an image of him standing in front of the fireplace, studying each photo in turn.
Those brief flashes were disturbing, made all the more so by the knowledge that they were powered by her awareness of him. The awareness was unwelcome. And more than a little unfamiliar.
She reached to take the bag from him, intent on sending him on his way. “Thanks again. Hopefully I can get the rental agency to deliver another car yet tonight.”
He gave an absent nod, studying the glass that had been replaced. “Stanley Glass didn’t overcharge you?”
Something about his manner had wariness circling inside her. “You can’t be interested in the details of the replacement pane.”
“No, you’re right. He leaned a hip against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms. “I’m more interested in the details you’ve been keeping from me since the break-in. Like the name of the person who’s been targeting you.”
In the inner recesses of her mind she could hear the sound of a trap snapping shut. The easy conversation, the offer of a ride . . . this had been his intention all along. She’d been a fool to think that a man like Ryne Robel would let any of this go. He’d only been biding his time.
Manufacturing a tired shrug, she said, “We really aren’t going to do this again, are we? I’ve had some bad luck, but—”
“Bullshit.” The steel in his tone had her blinking. “Someone followed you here, or maybe they came with you. But whoever it is has a major hard-on against you, Abbie. And you’re going to tell me who and you’re going to tell me why.”
Abruptly dropping the charade, she folded her arms across her chest, mimicking his stance. “No,” she said baldly. “I’m not.”
He was upright in an instant, moving toward her. He took her elbow in his hand when she would have walked away from him, and he shoved his face close to hers. “This is my case, and I don’t need anything or anyone screwing it up. If you’ve got some kind of problem that could potentially impact it . . .”
“The case?” For a moment she was nonplussed. “This has nothing to do with the case.”
He looked unconvinced. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
She pulled free of him. “This doesn’t concern the investigation, or you. It has to do with my life, and as such, it’s my business. Have you seen one example of me being distracted? I spend nearly as long hours as you do at headquarters.”
“Maybe it hasn’t affected the case yet, but it could. I won’t know that until you come clean about what’s happening. And if you won’t tell me,” he added, forestalling her next refusal, “I’m going to Dixon and ask to have you removed.”
Shock flared, followed quickly by anger. “He won’t remove me. You know why? Because you’re overreacting. He’ll realize it, even if you don’t.”
“Maybe not.” She didn’t like the looks of that satisfied smile on his lips. “But he’ll ask you the same questions that I am. Who do you want to explain it to, him or me?”
That stopped her short. She was certain it was meant to. Of course she didn’t want to be having this conversation with Commander Dixon. Only slightly less than she wanted to be having it with Robel.
She sent him a look filled with dislike. “You’re pushy.”
He inclined his head. “It’s been mentioned.”
“Not to mention manipulative.”
He made a c’mon gesture with his hand. When she remained silent, he said, “It was a guy seen running away from your car today. So who is he? An ex-boyfriend? Husband, maybe?”
“Neither.” Still fuming, she picked up her bag and carried it into her bedroom, dropped it on the floor. She turned and found him standing in the doorway. Elbowing past him, she walked back out into the living room. Her gaze went involuntarily to the pictures on the mantel, and a sense of resignation filled her.
“So you’re claiming you don’t know the guy who shattered your windshield.”
She shook her head, her mind filled with too many scenes from the past. All fraught with drama. All that had left her with a lingering sense of despair. “He could have been anyone. She would have paid him or made some other sort of exchange.” Promiscuity was just one of the destructive behavior patterns that emerged when Callie was off her meds.
“She . . . who?”
“My sister. She’s bipolar, and when she isn’t under a doctor’s care, her behavior can be . . . erratic.”
Although she didn’t look at him, she could tell her response had surprised him. And for the moment she was too caught up in the past to resent his prying. Callie was the only real family she had, although they were more like survivors of a natural disaster than sisters. The complexity of their relationship would keep a good psychotherapist busy unraveling it for years. She barely understood it herself.
“She lives down here?”
“No.” Then she corrected herself. “I don’t know. She moves around a lot. And she hasn’t been in communication for a few months. I leave her forwarding addresses, so she knew where I’d be.” But she hadn’t expected Callie to follow her here. She never had before.
“Would she try to hurt you?”
Her gaze snapped to meet Ryne’s, surprised at the question. Surprised at the immediate denial that rose to her lips. Few knew the lengths Callie had gone to in order to protect Abbie when they were children. Fewer still understood what it meant to owe such a staggering debt. She’d been paying it, in one manner or another, all her life.
Suddenly chilled, she hugged her arms. “I’m not afraid of her. When she’s ready, she’ll reach out.” At the doubt in his gaze, she added, “I’ve been handling her all my life, Ryne. Despite the fact that she’s older than me, I was named her guardian for a time. This is a complication for me, but it isn’t a complication for the investigation.”
He was silent for long moments, moments that had tension settling through her shoulders. Then he gave a slow nod. “All right.”
Irritation spiked. “Glad the sordid little details of my family drama could put your mind at rest.” It was more, far more personal information than she’d shared with anyone i
n years, with the exception of Adam Raiker, from whom very little could be withheld. And she fiercely resented Robel for forcing her hand.
She walked by him, headed for the door, ready to show him out. As she would have passed by him, he halted her with one hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.”
Warily, she stared at him. “For prying into something that was none of your business?”
His mouth quirked. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But I had to make sure the case wouldn’t be impacted. No, I’m sorry about your sister. It must be . . . a worry.”
Abbie almost laughed. Worry was such a tame description of the inner emotional war that always accompanied thoughts of Callie. But her black humor faded abruptly as his gaze lingered on her, as the concern in his expression changed to something else.
Desire. It lit an answering heat in her veins, one she knew enough to reject. Although she’d grown to respect the man, she couldn’t honestly say she always liked him.
But she was always aware of him. There was an attraction that flickered to life at odd moments when they were together. It skipped over nerve endings and ignited long-dormant feelings that had no place in the life she’d made for herself. And it was clear from the heat in Ryne’s eyes that he felt it, too. It was, she was discovering, far easier to ignore when he was being deliberately provoking than when he was unexpectedly kind.
Just a few inches separated them. She swallowed, fighting the urge to close the distance and press her lips against that hard mouth and see for herself if it would soften for her. But even as she was struggling to summon the discipline to move past him, away from temptation, he lowered his head and covered her lips with his.
He knew how to kiss a woman. Deep. Demanding. Devastating. There was a sort of resignation in the realization, even as her body responded. It was too much to hope that one taste of him would be enough to quench the attraction for good. And since it was too late to walk away from what was assuredly a mistake, she opened her lips to make the most of the moment. Her pulse chugged and her blood turned molten as his tongue swept into her mouth and his flavor traced through her.
One arm snaked around her waist and brought her closer. His chest was hard; his abbreviated attire showed off the roped muscles in his arms and legs. She clutched his shoulders to explore the bunched strength there and, taking his bottom lip in her teeth, scored it not quite lightly.
Ryne dropped one hand to her butt and squeezed, turning her and walking her backward until she was trapped between the unyielding surface of the wall at her back and the hard hungry man at the front. He braced one arm next to her head while his mouth ate at hers with a leashed urgency that was all the more compelling for being restrained.
Abbie dragged her lips from his and ran the tip of her tongue over the hollow beneath his throat, where bone met sinew. He tasted of salt and sweat and man, and an unfamiliar need clawed through her. Her past relationships had been few, brief, and based on comfort, safety, and most importantly, maintaining control.
There was nothing comfortable about Ryne. He wasn’t safe. And she’d battle to remain in control around him. Somehow that made her reaction to him even more shattering.
His lips went to a spot beneath her ear that had her shivering, her knees going to water. Their hands battled with each other’s clothing, and her palms skated up his ridged sides at the same moment she felt his fingers at her waist. The feel of him was seductive, lightly padded muscle over bone, and she desperately wanted to test that power with touch and teeth and taste. She reveled in the exquisite pleasure of his hands on her flesh, just shy of rough, and an alarm shrilled in her mind. In a complete detour from her normally innate caution, she muted it. There was an unexpected pleasure to be found in the flavor of him, and a sense of power in realizing that he was just as helpless to control it as she was.
His mouth sealed against hers, he pushed a knee between her legs so he could step between them, to press even more closely against her. A band of heat sizzled everywhere they touched, and a fever streaked through her blood. Ryne’s hands went to her breasts, covered in a sports bra that was frustratingly thick and tight. Her nipples tightened in anticipation of firmer contact, and she made a hum of approval when his fingers went to the hem of her shirt, and began to draw it upward.
When cooler air kissed heated flesh, though, reality abruptly intruded. Her hands went to his chest, and it took more effort than it should have to turn away from those wickedly clever lips, to haul in a steadying gulp of air.
He stilled, his breathing labored. They remained like that for long moments, and when he moved away, slowly, reluctantly, something inside her mourned. She busied herself smoothing her shirt down, avoiding his eyes.
“Not a good idea,” he rasped, and she jerked her head from side to side.
“Definitely not.”
The curse he muttered then had her gaze flying to his. “I’m not apologizing for this.”
Her voice was shaky. “I’d have to hurt you if you did.”
Hauling in a breath, he took a step back from her, then another. There was an instant, one heated moment, when she glimpsed the hunger on his face, and thought he’d reverse his path and pull her into his arms again. A moment when she was sure she would have gone willingly, and damn the consequences. But then his expression shuttered, and he turned and walked past her. Out of the room. Out of the house.
The snick of the door closing punctured the crazy hope that had flared, albeit briefly. Abbie leaned a shoulder against the wall, not certain her legs would support her. It occurred to her then, as she listened to the sound of the Mustang’s powerful engine roaring to life, that Callie’s reappearance right now was not the biggest problem she needed to handle.
Not even close.
Chapter 9
Ryne positioned himself behind the one-way glass to watch the scene being conducted in the interview room. Holmes had rounded up Juarez’s girlfriend, and he was anxious to hear what, if anything, she could tell them about the man. They had a handful of hours before they had to file charges or spring him. They had the pot and assault charges to level at him, of course, but once they did, he’d be up for bail. And somehow the scumbags always managed to find someone to pony up the dough.
Juarez was still denying any knowledge of the blood or syringe found in his Bronco. And while they were awaiting word from Han on the chemical analysis of the syringe contents, this woman, Geneva Rivera, was their last hope to learn something quickly that would more solidly link the man to the rapes. From the responses she’d given so far, however, that hope was fading fast.
“I told ya, I was only with him a few weeks. Wouldn’t call him my boyfriend. Can I get a frickin’ cigarette? I’m dying here.”
“Sorry.” Isaac Holmes’s expression never changed as he surveyed the woman from across the table. “There’s a no smoking ordinance in the department.”
“Figures.” She drummed her fingers nervously on the table. “So what’d Hidalgo do, huh? Flash some little ol’ lady and give her a heart attack?”
“You knew about his past?”
She lifted a nearly bare shoulder. Narrow straps battled gravity to keep her ample chest from spilling out of her thin pink top. “I didn’t know when I met him. Knew he’d been in prison, though. Thought he was kinda dangerous. Guys that have been inside, they have a lotta built-up need, you know?” She batted her eyes. “That can be kinda exciting. But Hidalgo, he’s about as exciting as a doggy hard-on.”
“What does that mean?”
Rivera did a double take. “What does that . . . c’mon, what do you think it means? He’s not a top performer. A thirty-second man, if you get my drift.”
Ryne watched as Holmes consulted the list of questions he’d given him. “Did he ever threaten you physically? Ever ask you to engage in sexual acts that were abusive?”
Geneva dug in her purse and extracted some gum. Unwrapping it, she popped it in her mouth, chewed. “Naw, nothing like that. He liked to pretend a lot, an
d wanted me to. It got old fast.”
“Pretend what?”
She screwed up her brow, as if the act of remembering was an effort. “Like once he wanted to tie me up, which I thought might be kinda fun. But then he just wanted me to act like he was my master, like a sheik or something. Say weird stuff like I was his slave. Stupid stuff like that.”
Interest sharpening, Ryne straightened. He had the stray thought that it was too bad Abbie wasn’t here. She’d be better able to tell what, if anything, Juarez’s behavior with Rivera might have meant.
In the next moment, realization struck him and his mouth flattened. His first reaction when he’d come in and not seen her had been one of relief. He still hadn’t come to terms with the emotion that had slammed into him the first time he’d gotten his hands on her. Or those that had resulted from walking away.
There was no denying it had been for the best. His attention was only half on the conversation taking place in the other room. The last thing he needed right now was to get involved with a woman, especially one working the case.
But it wasn’t Abbie’s involvement in the case that was his biggest concern, it was the emotions she elicited without even trying. The first time he’d responded after hearing the call about her break-in, he’d backpedaled abruptly once he recognized what he was feeling. Protectiveness.
Which would have been funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic. The last woman he should have been protecting had wound up dead. The failure still weighted his conscience. If Abbie needed protection, she couldn’t have chosen a man less capable of delivering it.
Only half listening to Rivera’s litany about Juarez’s shortcomings in the bedroom, memories replayed in his mind. Of Abbie sailing through the air to tackle Juarez; of her whaling on Barlow. The mental recollections brought a smile to his lips. Despite her size, Abbie Phillips seemed more than capable of taking care of herself.
Except, of course, with family.
His smile faded as he remembered her reluctant disclosure last night. Even if she was correct, and the vandalism acts were caused by her off-balanced sister, he remained unconvinced that she was in no danger. But he’d recognized the no trespassing signs she’d posted about the subject and had backed away. He valued his own privacy too much to intrude any further on hers.