Unstoppable (The Untouchable Series)

by Skaggs, Cindy

  “Forewarned is forearmed. That’s all we can do for the night.” Mick yanked off his shirt, revealing hard, toned skin. “Let’s use our time wisely.”

  Dez ran a hand down his powerful abs. “I plan to.”

  The soft brush of her fingers so close to the waist of his jeans turned everything south of the border rock hard. They both knew that something was going down while they were snowbound and their backup was too far away to help. They could spend the night sleepless with worry, but it looked like they both had other plans. If things were falling to shit tomorrow, then he wanted one more night with Dez.

  The physical reaction to her went back to the first moment they met, but he’d seen hidden parts of her on this trip. Not just her story and her family, but the real Dez hiding behind the smartass cop. She had a sweetness that she’d deny until the day she died, and she had a soft spot for kids that she probably didn’t even recognize, but the thing that got him, the piece of her that killed him, was her fierce loyalty. To him, to Blake, to the mission. She put body, heart, and soul into the team—she would die for any one of them—and he would never ignore that part of her again. Whether she knew it or not, her days of acting the lone wolf were over.

  She stood and the air between their bodies heated. This time, he let her lead. With a firm hand, she traced the outline of the tattoo on his pec, following like a maze to the center. She took her time, exploring and torturing. Learning him, as if she understood the meaning behind the ink. As if she were the one with the key.

  She teased the rim before sucking his nipple into her mouth. The muscles in his groin flexed, and his jeans were suddenly too tight.

  “Destiny.” The scratchy roughness of his voice was new.

  She looked up without releasing his nipple, and whatever she saw put a smile on her face before she bit down, gently tugging his sensitive flesh.

  Goose bumps washed his skin. He reached for her, but she didn’t stop her seductive moves. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” he muttered.

  “You should fix that,” she teased.

  He didn’t need to be told twice. Her shirt and bra were off before she was able to stand straight. “My turn,” he warned her. He lavished attention to her breasts, using both hands until her nipples distended, hard between his thumb and forefinger. She arched her back, pressing into his hands. Yeah, she liked that, so he kneaded until a gasp slid from her mouth. She slipped out of her pants without breaking contact, and then reached for the button of his jeans.

  Notch by notch, she released the pressure, each tick of the zipper slow, glorious torture. When she reached inside to take him in hand, they were done with slow. He lifted her and tossed her to the middle of the mattress.

  Her blond hair spread like a halo around her head, but the wicked glint in her eyes promised sin. “You’re still dressed,” she said. “You should strip for me.”

  He rested his hands on his hips. “That how you want to play?”

  “It’s only fair. You’ve seen me strip half a dozen times on an op.”

  “No. Not once.”

  “Mick, come on. We’ve worked undercover together a long time.” She leaned up to brace her elbows behind her back. “Let’s be real. You’ve seen me strip.”

  “I’m serious. I kept my eyes on the crowd to make sure no one got too close.”

  Her eyes watered. “Seriously?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  “The first time I saw you naked was the shower at Diane’s.”

  A slow shake of her head followed by a smile that lit the night. “Mick Donovan, you undo me.”

  “Same goes.” And she did, lying there with sexy-drowsy eyes, naked for him. Only him. As far as he was concerned, she was never dancing again, not for an undercover op, not for anyone but him. The territorial growl he emitted surprised him, but he couldn’t deny the forceful emotion that drew the words from him. Dez Harper was his.

  He slipped his hands to his hips and pulled off his jeans. He kicked his boxers to the carpet and joined her on the bed.

  “I’m going to have to give you a five out of ten for technique.” A gleam sparked in her eyes.

  “Got the job done.”

  “The job isn’t to get naked. The job is to drive ’em crazy thinking about you getting naked.”

  “Baby, you’ve been thinking about getting me naked for months.”

  “True. But a girl likes a show every now and again.”

  “Maybe next time.” Not a chance in hell.

  “It’s all in the hips,” she said.

  “I’ll show you hip action.” He pressed her back and followed her all the way to the mattress. The welcome of her soft skin made the glide of skin on skin delicious. Taking his time, he spun her up with a touch here, a kiss there, a nip that drew her hips off the bed. He laughed as he kissed his way up her body. She moaned and arched into him, her body wet and needy. For him. “Ready for that hip action?” he said, teasing his dick through her folds.

  She laughed, her breath brushing the nerves in his neck. “Show me what you got.”

  He slid home on a sigh. Her internal muscles fluttered and flexed around his shaft. He braced his hands next to her beautiful face and tried to take it slow. They were made for this, he thought as the moves got faster, as her breath panted out, as her moans whispered in his ear. “Faster. You’re killing me.”

  “I thought you wanted a show.”

  A tick flickered in her eyelid, and then, without warning, she arched her hips off the mattress. Gyrating, the move forced him deeper. He couldn’t hold back. He slammed home, his moves erratic, full of need. And then her orgasm went through her like a wave, as her body lifted and crashed to the mattress. She gripped his ass tight, so tight he couldn’t hold back.

  He pumped his hips through her orgasm. When his time came, he leaned in to kiss her neck, and shattered on a moan. He would never get enough of her. When he recovered, he moved to his side, taking her with so they were face to face.

  She nibbled his jawline for a minute before she spoke. “Like I said, it’s all in the hips.”

  …

  The doorbell peeled through the house like a siren, jolting Dez awake. She rolled out of bed and into clothes before she had time to brush sleep from her eyes. The empty holster by the door taunted her. If she couldn’t get to her piece, she’d ask Jerry for a loaner. Would he refuse? Only one way to find out. Mick moved out and down the hall to Nate’s room. To protect. Having Mick at her back helped ease the fear for the boy. A foreboding had her walking silently down the carpeted stairs to see who was at the door before the sun.

  The sheriff wore his customary uniform answering Peg’s door like he owned the place. Dez hung back, watching the door from around the corner. Another several inches of snow shimmered in the porch light. Doug and Vern stood on the stoop talking to Jerry. Doug twisted his cowboy hat as he talked to the sheriff in muted tones. When they finished, Jerry closed the door and looked her in the eye. “You catch all that?”

  She smiled sheepishly. “No, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  Jerry didn’t return the smile. Frustration stamped lines into his face that hadn’t been there the night before. “Bad news for you. GSR came back positive on your coat.”

  “That’s not possible.” Dez sat down hard on the stairs. “You checked for gunshot residue. My hands were clean. So was the gun.”

  “The blowback could have stayed on your outer gear.”

  The words hit her brain slow and distorted like going through water. “That’s impossible. I haven’t shot my weapon since the attack on Nate’s parents.” And the coat and gloves belonged to Aunt Peg, not that Dez wanted to put her aunt under the microscope.

  “I might be inclined to believe you, but last night I discovered a twenty-two in the basement. Your fingerprints are all over it.”

  The world narrowed in, her vision fogged, until all she saw was his disapproving glare.

  “We’re waiting on ballistics, but the bullet t
hat killed Derek is most likely a twenty-two. That’s enough to bring you in for questioning.”

  Lights danced at the edge of her vision, and her breathing went shallow. Dez shook her head. The accusations—untrue—were her father all over again. Accusing without evidence, punishing without conviction. “Nate was with me the entire time. You talked to him.”

  “The kid’s terrified, so his testimony is questionable.”

  “The neighbors saw me. Waved at me. Lily saw me at the sledding hill.” As alibis went, hers was solid.

  Jerry rested his hands on his hips. “Did Mick have access to your weapon?”

  “No.” Did he expect her to throw Mick under the bus? “You saw me pull it from my holster. Mick wasn’t at the house until after you got here.”

  “What about your twenty-two?”

  The small caliber weapon would have been laughable in Mick’s big hands. It was a backup peace for when things went to hell, much like they were in this moment. The gun hadn’t been used since the last time she went to the gun range, but no way would she cop to the weapon being hers. She was in enough trouble as it was.

  “We have a warrant to search the rest of the house. Is there anything else you want to tell me about?”

  The phone. Shit. It was still hidden behind the fuse box. Hopefully it would remain there. If they found the phone, Jerry would bury her, whether she told him about it or not. She’d been on the other side of an interrogation long enough to know better than to give him ammunition. Keep your mouth shut.

  “Then you’re all I’ve got. The county judge signed the search warrant this morning. I need to take you in. Get an official statement.”

  “This is bullshit. You know it.”

  The blue of his eyes clouded. “We have to do this by the book.”

  Mick stepped down the stairs, took one look at her and his stance tensed. On alert. “What’s going on?”

  “Jerry’s arresting me.”

  “I’m not arresting you. Yet.”

  The distinction was miniscule. She turned back to the sheriff. “If I’m not under arrest, can we do the questioning here?”

  He shook his head. “There will be plenty who say my relationship with your aunt made me biased in your favor.”

  “Bullshit, you used your relationship to do an illegal search of the premises.”

  “I was invited inside.”

  Fear curled up her spine, bringing cold and tension to her extremities. Sully would try to separate them from Nate. This was a damned effective method to make it happen. “You’re endangering my witness.”

  “Your boss is on his way up here. He can take the witness into custody. Until then, Mick can watch Nate.”

  Watch? Nate didn’t need a babysitter. He needed a full garrison of soldiers to protect him. Adrenaline flooded her system and helped her focus. Her attention narrowed onto the sheriff. “Which boss?”

  “Agent Stiles. The fact that you lied about the head of the task force doesn’t look good.”

  “Fuck me,” Mick muttered. He glanced at Dez, understanding passing between them. If Stiles was on his way up, the task force had been informed. Sully would know that Nate was unguarded. “What’s the status on the highway, sheriff?”

  “Closed. More snow last night put a wrench in the works.”

  Blake and Logan couldn’t get through but Stiles could? Not a chance. But Sully could, if he flew into the airfield. Once the leak in the task force relayed the information, Nate was at risk and Dez would be out of the picture. Fear and anger brained their way through her system, knocking out her internal defenses. Anyway she looked at it, she didn’t have much choice. She stood to hold her hands out for Jerry to cuff her.

  “I’m not going to cuff you,” he insisted tersely.

  “Do you really think I’m guilty?”

  “The evidence speaks for itself.”

  She glanced back at Mick. “Protect Nate.”

  His amber eyes glowed with a fierce light, the one that lit him up when he spoke of Tommy. “With my life.”

  The sheriff nudged her toward the door. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

  “I’m not a hysterical female, Jerry.” She used his name intentionally, seeking a link, a connection she could manipulate to get out of this situation. “The man after Nate killed his adoptive parents and two WITSEC agents that we know of. He has informants inside and outside the legal system.”

  “The boy will be fine.” Jerry led her into the cold. “If it helps ease your fears, I’m leaving Doug and Vern in a patrol car out front to add another layer of protection. We’ll keep Nate safe until your boss gets here.”

  Unless the sheriff or one of the deputies was on Sully’s side. In less than twenty-four hours since the murder, they’d effectively separated Dez from Nate. The fears gripping her heart were founded on actual risks. She didn’t trust anyone but Mick.

  It would take Stiles as long or longer than Blake and Logan to get into town. What happened before reinforcements arrived? They might as well hand Nate over to Sully, and Nate would disappear while Dez got lost in the system. Sure, they’d never prove she killed Derek. Probably. Innocence should mean something. But whoever planned this would keep her tied up long enough to hide Nate so she’d never find him. And she had promised him that wouldn’t happen.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The mug shot impacted her like her father’s fists, sending her emotions deep into the past where nothing good happened. Accusation and punishment wrapped in one tidy bundle that had nothing to do with truth. This was why she had left. Why she never came back. She had a decent life and great career, and a few days in this crappy old town had her being questioned on suspicion of murder.

  Life sucks and then you die, as her father would say. He’d know.

  Fingerprinting added another insult to her pride that matched her fear for Nate and Mick. When they finished collecting her fingerprints to match to her weapon—all voluntary at this point—the deputy doing the job frowned at Dez. Vern was older than she was, so she hadn’t gone to school with him. Couldn’t remember ever seeing him around.

  “I knew your dad,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I figure Derek deserved what you gave him.”

  “Thanks,” Dez muttered, her tone sarcastic. Of course they’d think she was guilty, just like dear old dad. If she lived through the next week, she was never coming back. Aunt Peg could come visit her in the city. “Derek probably deserved it, but I wasn’t the one to do the deed.”

  “Right.” He led her to the interrogation room and let her cool her jets for what felt like hours. Hours where Mick didn’t have backup. The acid in her stomach churned on empty. She hadn’t eaten, which was just as well. The mere thought of food sent bile crawling up her throat. She wasn’t an innocent. She’d done things she wasn’t proud of, but always to right a wrong. She’d never killed a man in cold blood. Never tampered with evidence. Someone in this department had done those things or worse, and she was stuck. Defenseless. At least Nate had Mick.

  The lack of a clock was a part of the psychological game. Make her sweat it out, worried, but she wasn’t worried about Derek’s murder. She was worried about Sully. A few inches of snow wouldn’t keep him off the airstrip. He could be here by now, and he likely knew she was on ice. They could keep her for seventy-two hours without charging her. That was more than enough time to kidnap Nate.

  The interrogation room was a small cement square with a solid steel door. In the center was the table with four chairs. Hard-ass steel chairs that made her butt ache. There was no two-way glass, so Dez stood and marched a circle around the square to work off her frustration. She needed to get out. While Mick wasn’t helpless, he didn’t have a weapon, and he was alone.

  The sheriff entered on her third pass around the room. He gestured to a chair. When she sat, he turned on the recording device and read Dez her rights. “Do you understand your rights as I’ve read them to you?”

  “Yes, damn it.”

  “D
o you want to speak to an attorney?”

  What, so they could keep her on ice even longer. “No. I want to get to the bottom of this, not delay it.”

  The sheriff clicked off the recording device, temper wafting off him like a bad odor. In that moment, he reminded her of Mick, although Jerry was generally more laid-back. Not so at the moment. “Goddammit, Justice. It’s my expert opinion that you need an attorney.”

  “It’s my expert opinion that I’m fucked either way. And the name’s Dez.” Maybe she was a gambler at heart, because she didn’t have time to play things safe. The truth would come out in the long run. She had to believe innocence still meant something in this country, but time was a luxury she didn’t have. The longer she stayed cooped up in the interrogation room, the longer Nate was unprotected. “If we talk now, maybe we can figure this out before some dangerous mofo gets his dirty hands on sweet little Nate.”

  “Quit trying to manipulate me.”

  “Jerry.” Dez looked him straight in the eyes. She didn’t blink; she didn’t turn her face to hide. “Someone already has manipulated you.”

  He tossed his pen onto the table. “Fuck it,” he muttered. He lifted a piece of paper out of the file in front of him and handed it to her. It was the report on her gun.

  “This is bullshit. The gun never left my possession, and I didn’t kill Derek.”

  “That’s not what the evidence says.”

  “What does your gut say?”

  “I don’t want to believe that Peg’s niece killed a man, but—”

  “No. That’s what your conscience is telling you. Maybe what Aunt Peg told you when she called and ripped you a new one.”

  “What makes you think—”

  “Please. I know my aunt. She ripped you a new one when she found out you abused her trust by searching the house in the dark after she’d gone to bed. Probably after you sent her to sleep with a smile on her face.”

  His faced flamed red. “Now listen here—”

  “No. You listen. That’s what your training tells you anyway. If you get the suspect talking, step back and let them bury themselves. Except I won’t bury myself. I’m not guilty, and if you’d reach past the circumstances, you’d see that the numbers don’t add up.”