by Julie Miller
There wasn’t anything that made her feel hotter, prickly all over and just a little bit naughty than the intense appreciation of this man’s gaze on her. Except maybe the deep sexy rumble of his voice. Or his big, rough hands moving over her skin.
Riley’s breath rushed out in a heated gasp. She turned back into the spray of the water and gasped again when her nipples pebbled beneath the pressure of the water hitting them. Thinking of Josiah having his way with her must have primed her body for a touch of any kind.
“I doubt I have jeans that will fit, but I brought something clean for you to put on when you’re done.”
Holding her hands over her breasts, she glanced over her shoulder. He might be talking about the T-shirt he held in his hand, but that wasn’t the reason he was still standing there. She dropped her gaze and saw his unmistakable reaction tenting at the front of his towel. “I thought you preferred doing to watching.”
“In your case, I’ll make an exception.” With an apologetic nod, he draped the shirt over the knob of the linen closet and started to leave.
“Don’t.” Riley grabbed the front of his towel before he could turn away, and felt his skin jump as her fingers slid inside the loose knot there. Already sensitized to every drop of water that hit her skin and trailed downward, she shook her wet hair down her back and tugged him to the edge of the shower door, wanting more than heated looks. “I prefer doing, too.”
Even though he drifted a step closer, he braced his hands on either side of the stall and refused to come in. “Riley, I’m not going to take advantage of—”
“Your partner? I’m not a cop, remember?”
“Your vulnerability.”
“I’m better now. Thanks to you.” Her fingertips teased the base of his pulsing erection beneath the towel. She took his hiss of breath at the subtle caress to mean he wanted her as badly as she wanted him. “I’m glad you’re a good guy. I appreciate what you did for me last night. I felt…dirty. And not in a good way.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Dirty.” Riley smiled and tugged him a little closer, pressing a kiss to the smooth jut of his chin, letting the water dripping and bouncing from her body get him wet again, too. The terry cloth grew heavy in her hand as the water soaked in. In seconds, its dripping weight clung to that most masculine part of him. “But dirty in the very best way.”
He knew there was no hiding his desire from her. And she couldn’t make her willingness any plainer. “You’re getting inside my head again, woman. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
“By denying what we both want?” Riley slid her body against his. His skin was hot, and the crisp curls of his chest hair created a wicked friction against her pert breasts. “I feel rested. Sane. Like I won’t need to cry again for another ten years. My feet still hurt, my back aches—and I want you like I have never wanted any man before. This attraction—it’s different with you. I don’t feel like I’m calling all the shots.”
He dipped his face toward hers and her lips parted for a kiss that never came. Instead, his scent filled her nose and his warm breath mingled with hers, leaving her waiting, wanting. “And that scares you?”
“Terrifies me.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Josiah—”
His lips closed over hers and Riley wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself into his kiss. His arms slipped behind her back. He lifted her off her feet and crushed her against his chest, carrying her back into the spray of the water. Skin to skin, the heat of his body seeped into hers. His hands aroused. His lips demanded. Every cell of her body was attuned to the touch and taste of this man. His heart thudded against hers. The towel plopped to the floor and there was no longer anything between them.
“Are you sure?” he growled against her lips.
“Yes.”
She cried out in protest when her toes touched the floor of the shower and he left her. She swayed against the glass and clutched the wall for support, feeling bereft of his strength and heat, overwhelmed by un-sated desire. “Is this some kind of cruel trick?”
“No tricks with you, baby.” He closed the vanity drawer and dangled a foil wrapper in his hand.
Understanding now, she eagerly welcomed him back to her arms. He tossed the wet towel out on the floor and closed the door behind him.
She expected him to put on the condom and take her right then and there, but he dropped to his knees instead. He scooped up the soap. “Now where did you say you were hurting?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I want…” Her protest stuck in her throat when he skimmed his hand over her hip and down to her calf. His thumb tickled her knee as he stroked her again.
“Here?” he asked, lifting her foot and massaging the arch.
With the water and soap, there was no friction, only heat and pressure that soothed and aroused. He washed the other foot before sweeping his big hands over her calves and thighs—soaping, stroking, moving higher and higher until he skimmed his hand over the curve of her bottom. He squeezed and kneaded, easing any ache she might have felt, turning each muscle into putty, then reworking every inch of skin into a bundle of sensitized nerve endings thirsty for his touch.
He had her by the bottom with both hands now and drew her forward, bringing her wet, slick skin against his mouth. He kissed the indentation beside her right knee, licked his tongue along the curve of her thigh, tenderly bit the crease where her hip and thigh met.
Riley braced her hand against his shoulder, feeling almost too weak with sensation to stand. “Josiah, this is wonderful. But I don’t know how much more I can take—”
He kissed the swollen juncture between her thighs and Riley jerked.
“Easy, baby.”
She held on with both hands now. He slid his tongue along the crevice between her nether-lips in a raspy caress and she groaned as he staked his claim on her. He pulled her harder against his mouth.
“Josiah, I can’t…”
The hands on her bottom forced her legs wider apart, giving him greater access to the tender skin that longed for his touch. Every muscle that he’d turned to jelly trembled at the electric shards of pleasure firing through her blood and gathering with anticipation at her core.
He thrust his tongue deep inside her again and again. She was helplessly speared between the anchor of his hands and the tender assault of his lips and teeth and tongue. The beat of the water against her skin mimicked the rhythm of her throbbing pulse. She splayed her fingers against his scalp, dizzy with the delicious pressure building inside her. She held him against her, yet held herself back.
“Do this for yourself, baby. Nobody else. Lose control. Let it come.” She clutched at his shoulder and braced her hand against the wall as she fell against his mouth. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”
With the final thrust of his tongue, the pressure in Riley exploded, washing over her in waves, leaving her too weak to stand. But it didn’t matter because Josiah was there to hold her. He slipped his arms around her and stood, holding her close while she remembered how to work her legs and think and breathe.
Then he caught her face between his hands and kissed her gently. She tasted herself on his tongue, humbled by the intimacy they’d shared, warmed by the tenderness and trust she felt for this man. “You are the most exciting, responsive woman I’ve ever known.” His breath gusted against her cheek. “The more I’m with you, the more I want you.”
The evidence of that nudged against her thigh.
Reenergized by the gifts he’d given her, Riley pressed a kiss to his chin and dropped to her knees to return the favor.
“Uh-uh.” Josiah’s strong arms pulled her to her feet. “No more cold showers, Riley. I want the real thing. I want to be inside you.”
She tilted her gaze to his and smiled. “Me, too.”
She pulled his mouth to hers for a kiss. His hands found her breasts and coaxed them into aching nubs. She picked up the foil pouch from the shower floor and ripped it op
en. She took her time rolling it onto his cock, tugging and teasing and stroking him until he drove her back against the shower tiles. “Damn it, woman.”
“I thought you wanted a little bad girl, Detective.” Riley anchored her hands on his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips, parting her swollen flesh and slowly sheathing herself over his thick erection.
He buried his face against her neck and groaned. “Like hell on fire.”
“Then take me, tough guy,” she whispered against his ear, her breath gusting as he moved inside her. “I’m all yours.”
Chapter Ten
Riley spent Saturday sleeping and making love with Josiah. So by nine o’clock that night, her body felt deliciously weary, but her head was firmly back on her shoulders.
Let the world throw Sal Fusco or Lawrence Houser or any other douche bag at her, and she knew she’d be strong enough to keep her emotions in check and her thoughts focused because she had one big, bad KCPD detective in her corner.
Yes, there was a lot to appreciate about the brawn and the attitude and the gun she’d learned Josiah kept hidden in his boot backing her up. But it was the good guy underneath the gladiator facade who made her feel truly safe for the first time in her adult life. The man who held her when she cried, who refused to have sex with her when it was for the wrong reason, who made her believe it was possible to believe a man’s word—that was the guy she was falling in love with.
And while the idea of letting love out of the lockbox inside her was about as scary as breaking into Slade Russell’s secret room, Riley was willing to try both.
Even if Josiah hadn’t already learned that most of Slade Russell’s security team would be gone for the night, and that he and his bouncers would need to cover breaks for the guards in the back rooms, it was clear that something unusual was going on. In addition to the parking lot exit being dark, Rocky was locked in his office poring over paperwork instead of greeting customers in the club, and Opal was nowhere to be seen on any of the security-office monitors. And since Saturday was After Dark’s busiest night, it confirmed their suspicions that whatever connected the big amounts of undocumented cash, wealthy private guests and secret computer labs was happening tonight.
With the help of Josiah’s handler, a Latino senior detective named A.J. Rodriguez, a pair of undercover officers planned to come into the club and create a diversion. At 8:50, Riley had gone backstage to take drink orders from the two guards on duty. At 8:55 a fight had broken out, and the short-staffed bouncers had required help from the security guards who were protecting empty rooms. By 8:57, Riley had let herself into the room upstairs. According to Josiah, she’d have a matter of minutes to find out whatever she could and then get out of there before he ran out of ways to keep everyone else occupied.
It might not be the safest plan, but it was a plan. And after much arguing, she’d convinced her undercover partner that she’d have a better chance of explaining away her presence upstairs than he would if he got caught spying.
With one hand on her phone, ready to press Josiah’s number, and the other on the mouse, Riley scrolled through the words and numbers on the computer screen.
Punching in 4-1-5-7-9 had gotten her into the room, and sliding the access card through the card reader on the table had opened up the encrypted program she’d discovered the night before.
So far, all she’d found was some kind of registration page with made-up names like J. Doe and T. Smith. She hadn’t found Andrei Wojtalewicz or Lawrence Houser or any other name she recognized, not even Slade Russell’s. The number 10,000 listed beside each name could only mean one thing—ten-thousand dollars. But what was the money for? Payment of a debt to Slade or the club? In addition to hiring prostitutes, she knew Lawrence Houser liked to gamble. Did that money he’d paid to Rocky make him one of the anonymous names here? And would every business transaction or gambling debt or bet be for the exact same amount?
There was a digital clock at the bottom of the page, too, counting down to some sort of deadline. And there were just under three hours remaining. Midnight.
Knowing her time was limited before she had to shut everything down and get out, Riley clicked on another icon simply labeled Merchandise.
Her heart sank when the first screen came up. It was the picture of a slender young woman about Megan’s age sitting on the edge of a twin bed, wearing a white sack-like nightgown. The window behind her revealed she was up high enough to see rooftops and stars. The metal around the window frame had rusted through in spots, and the green paint on the concrete wall was faded and flaking. The woman’s long dark hair fell around her shoulders in styled waves, and her golden eyes were hooded and glazed, as if she’d just awakened from a nap when the picture had been snapped…or she’d been drugged.
“Oh, my God.” Ten-thousand dollars. Was that what it cost for a wealthy man like Lawrence Houser to buy this girl? She read the information at the bottom of the screen:
Multilingual
Current Bid—$240,000
Riley pressed a fist to her mouth to muffle her shocked gasp. He’s selling her. She clicked on the mouse again as a frightened sense of urgency drummed through her blood. She found another picture. Another old room in a beat-up high-rise. Another window. Another bed. This one listed the woman’s breast size. The next photograph mentioned the dazed woman’s athletic background. It’s a catalogue.
The men who came into this room were shopping. Illegal, online shopping—probably on Russell’s own private server—where the prize went to the highest bidder. The ten-thousand dollars must just be the fee for the privilege of getting inside the room to see who was for sale.
Feeling sick to her stomach as the number of women on the website increased, Riley clicked through more pictures until she found the one she dreaded seeing.
Tears burned in her eyes when she saw the familiar strawberry-blonde hair resting on the pillow. She touched her fingertips to the sweet image on the glass screen, praying her sister was simply asleep. “Oh, sweetie. Why couldn’t I have been wrong?”
And then Riley dropped her gaze and muttered every last curse word she knew. At the bottom of the page were two lines:
Virgin
Current bid—$1,000,000
“You sick bastard.” She wanted to strangle Slade Russell with her bare hands, then sic Josiah on every last one of his accomplices. Where are you, Megan? I have to find you before midnight.
Or she might never find her.
Riley’s cell phone vibrated in her hand, startling her with a message from Josiah. Time’s up.
Right. The fight had been broken up. Guards and staff would be returning to their posts. Moving as quickly as she could now, Riley scrolled back to the home screen. But something lingered at the back of her mind, a niggling possibility that wanted to be heard. She stopped and went back through the first four pictures and studied the images again.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. “Yes! I know where to find her.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth at the loud declaration, hoping she hadn’t given her presence here away. After several seconds of silence with no footsteps running up the metal stairs and no guard charging the door, she shut down the computer. She dropped the pass card onto the carpet and kicked it under the table, hoping Danny would think he’d lost it during their one-sided make-out session—if he’d even missed the card at all. Then she turned out the lights and peeked outside the door.
As she inched along the landing to the edge of the stairs to see if anyone was below her, Riley hit Reply to Josiah’s text. With the back of the club still empty, she hurried down the stairs, typing and retyping as her heels pinged on the metal stairs.
I found her.
Auction at midnight.
Megan at abandoned office building.
Can see
“Roger that. Danny out.” The club door opened and she hit Send without finishing the text. As soon as she saw Danny and Oscar enter the hallway, chatting on their radios and grumb
ling about “doing other people’s jobs,” she deleted any record of sending the text and thrust her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She’d give Josiah the rest of the message in person. Then they could go rescue her sister.
“Hi, guys.” Riley greeted the two guards with a friendly smile. “Let me guess, coffee with cream and a lemon-lime soda?”
“Works for me,” Oscar answered.
“Hey, beautiful.” Riley fixed her smile in place and stopped when Danny Mertz blocked her path. He waved to Oscar to mind his own business and then cornered her against the bricks with a hand beside her head. “I just got a radio call from Rocky. He thought he heard someone on the stairs.” Danny leaned in to nuzzle her neck and whisper a smug question. “Was that you Rocky heard? You lookin’ for me?”
Ewww! Although she wanted to push his smelly breath out of her personal space, Riley curled her fingers into fists and kept them at her sides. “Yes. I went upstairs.” She even choked out, “I missed you.” But she had a ready-made excuse when he tried to lead her someplace more private. She tugged her hand free and backed toward the club door. “I’d better get out to the bar and pour those drinks before either one of us gets in trouble for staying away from our posts for too long.”
He winked. “Don’t be too long bringing me that soda now.”
“I won’t.”
Would never be quick enough?
But when Riley turned to hurry out to Josiah, the door to Rocky’s office opened. The dark-haired manager stepped out, nearly running into her. Clearly in a foul mood from whatever account wasn’t balancing or whatever cruel auction he was missing out on, Rocky’s only word was to acknowledge her presence, “Sugar.”
But when he fell into step behind her, Riley abruptly changed course and detoured into the women’s dressing room. The man looked like he wanted to fire somebody. And though she had no desire to keep working for a man who might be involved in exploiting her sister, she also knew the clock was ticking. A confrontation with Rocky would keep her from getting the location of the auction to Josiah, or as close to it as she’d been able to figure out from the computers upstairs. And with fewer than three hours before Megan and the other women went up for sale, time was critical.