“Bella certainly is.” Skye reached down to stroke behind the ears of her dog, who was now standing up and sniffing the latest K-9 to enter the room. “She’s the one who found the guy.”
“You’re too modest.” Manny sat down in his cubicle. “If you want to get somewhere around here, you need to sing your own praises. Or at least not give all the kudos to your dog. Bella will go as far in the department as you do, not vice versa.”
“Could be.”
“Hello, Skye. Igoa.”
At the sound of Trevor’s voice—sexy as hell despite its matter-of-fact tone—Skye startled and pressed an extra key on her computer. She quickly corrected the typo, which gave her a good excuse not to look at him while she gathered her fraying thoughts.
“Hi, Trevor,” she said casually as Igoa, too, greeted him. “How are you feeling?”
He strode toward her, and it was all she could do not to grin sappily at him. No matter how he felt, he looked damned good in his SWAT uniform. He didn’t seem to be in any pain as he stopped beside her and knelt to pat Bella’s head. “If you’re asking about my latest injury, heck, I already survived a bullet to the neck. A little stab in the ribs…that was nothing.”
Igoa laughed. “Glad it was you instead of me.”
Skye said nothing—not with Trevor’s deep mahogany eyes boring into hers, as if her opinion about his being stabbed really mattered. Or maybe to question whether she could have somehow just looked at him and healed that stab wound instantly.
No. He might have suspicions, but he didn’t really know about her.
But how could she avoid answering any questions he might have about her if she demanded the information from him that had been plaguing her—how had Eddy Edinger really died? She needed to know. Her conversations with her friends from home had only added to her unease. Sure, she had tried, all weekend, to convince herself that the old legends had no basis in truth.
Tried and failed.
She had to find out for sure.
She forced a smile—not hard to do with him so close. Her body stirred way deep down. She had a barely subdued urge to tear off his clothes and make love with him again.
As if.
“So,” she said as casually as she could muster, “guess you’re macho enough to survive anything. Not true for Edinger, though, I hear.”
The suddenly grim expression on Trevor’s handsome face made Skye want to reach out and comfort him. “Yeah. I’m surprised, but I feel sorry for the guy in a way. He just keeled over. It was like he literally got scared to death, or whatever, because I told him he was about to die….” He shook his head.
This was a confirmation from the source, Skye thought. But she still needed more information.
Impulsively she crooked her finger, motioning him to come closer. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said softly after he complied. She could smell his tangy scent of soap, shave cream and him, and it nearly drove her wild. But she couldn’t give in to the attraction until she figured out what was really going on. “If you don’t have any plans for dinner tonight, it’ll be my treat.”
She might have to violate her ancestors’ insistence on utter secrecy about their abilities in order to learn how far any powers she might have inadvertently passed to Trevor went.
If the stories turned out to be true, she had to find a way to withdraw those abilities from Trevor—and she had a feeling he wouldn’t like that.
Not at all.
“Thanks for inviting me, Skye.” Standing at her door, Trevor thrust a bouquet of pink lilies and purple irises at her.
“They’re beautiful!” she exclaimed, accepting them and motioning him to come in. Oh, heavens, had this been even more of a mistake than she’d feared?
He’d taken her invitation as a romantic one. He made her glow all over—from lust and anticipation, as well as from embarrassment—when he bent down to kiss her, but she pulled away from him.
“Good to see you, Trevor,” she said almost formally, glad she had worn a pretty but not particularly sexy gold button-front shirt that she’d tucked into brown slacks. “Come in.”
Bella followed them down the hall to the kitchen, where Skye had prepared a simple meal of chicken Marsala over bow-tie pasta, with a salad on the side.
The lighting in her warm wood-and-tile kitchen, combined with the late-day glow of the sun, enriched the auburn highlights in Trevor’s short brown hair. He’d worn a snug black T-shirt that hugged his amazingly muscular arms and chest, and jeans that also hid very little about his masculine physique. Skye’s mouth watered—and not from the aroma of the dinner she had cooked.
She silently chastised herself. This man might have secret abilities that he didn’t know about. She’d thought long and hard about how best to approach him about what had happened with Edinger.
“Looks delicious,” he said as Skye handed him a bowl to carry into the small adjoining dining room. It wasn’t the food he looked at, though…but her.
She turned her head, so aware of the sensuality of the moment that even the touch of her own hair flowing around her shoulders heightened the desire she attempted to tamp down. “Um…I’m really hungry tonight,” she said brightly, holding the plate of chicken as she swept past him into the dining room. “How about you?” And then she thought about the dual meaning that question could have and felt herself grow even hotter.
“Very.” His deep, sexy tone made it clear that he, too, caught the ambiguity of what she’d asked.
“Why don’t you sit there?” Skye pointed to a seat at the Early American–style wooden table. She’d set the table with wicker place mats, her everyday stainless flatware and usual dishes—nothing fancy. This wasn’t an event to impress him.
But now she felt so flustered, so uncomfortable, that she wondered if she could even start the conversation without revealing too much. But she knew she had to talk with him. She couldn’t let him keep thinking he was hallucinating when he thought she’d had something to do with his life being saved.
“Bella, down,” she instructed as she took her own seat. Bella obeyed, curling up on the edge of the red, navy and gold area rug beneath the table.
Skye served Chianti along with her version of the Italian dish. As they ate, she couldn’t bring herself to ask detailed questions about the death of Edinger. She’d considered this before. So what if it wasn’t an appetizing subject? They were both cops. They could talk about anything in a cool, professional manner.
Even so, they tiptoed around anything to do with their work. Skye found herself intrigued by which ball teams interested Trevor most—the L.A. Lakers and the San Diego Chargers. Angeles Beach wasn’t quite large enough to support its own major teams, but Trevor was all for it happening someday. They talked about TV shows and movies and…well, everything except their jobs.
And Skye found herself not wanting to disturb the mood. But eventually they were done eating.
“Everything was delicious,” Trevor said. “So you’re a damned good K-9 cop and a great cook, too. Is there anything else I should know about you?”
A perfect opening. But just as Skye opened her mouth to ask about the Edinger incident, she found Trevor standing beside her. He pulled out her chair and she stood, as if it had been orchestrated in advance.
Suddenly—and not so unexpectedly—she was in his arms, pressing against his hard body as his hot mouth explored hers and made everything inside her go liquid and limp.
“I’ve been waiting all night for dessert,” Trevor whispered huskily against her mouth.
And without another thought for the real reason she’d invited him here, Skye led him down the hall once more, to her bedroom.
“Stay,” she said hoarsely to Bella, then shut the door behind them.
Heaven wasn’t supposed to be so hot, Skye thought as her clothes disappeared from her in barely more than an instant. Just as fast, she pulled off every stitch of clothing covering Trevor’s outstandingly ripped body.
Immediate
ly she saw the white bandage on his side, against his tanned skin.
She reached out, stroked it. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Does it hurt?”
“You could kiss it and make it better,” he responded, his voice a sexy rasp.
She bent, kissed the bandage and brushed against the hardness of Trevor’s erection…not entirely accidentally.
He groaned, and she took him into her mouth, and they quickly wound up on her bed—making love with such abandon that Skye could think of absolutely nothing else but the amazing sensations everywhere on, and in, her body….
A while later, they lay beside each other in the tangle of her flowery sheets. Trevor’s head was on her pillows, and hers was on his chest, enjoying its syncopated up-and-down motion as he tried to catch his breath.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she blurted out. She was beginning to care for this man. A lot.
If only there weren’t secrets between them.
“Me, too.” He moved a little, and she was soon staring into his dark eyes. “I’m really falling for you, you know that?”
She hadn’t known, but she’d hoped so. “Me, too,” she said to him earnestly. “I really care a lot about you, Trevor. And that’s why…Well, please tell me what happened between Edinger and you. Tell me exactly how he died.”
He didn’t really want to think about that now. Not after such stunning sex with Skye. He was falling in love with her. Dumb? Maybe. He didn’t really know her that well. But it wasn’t just sex that made him want to be with her.
He had wanted to get together with her over the weekend, but she had come up with one excuse after another. That had hurt.
Had she stayed away from him because of Edinger’s death? If so, why?
Maybe he’d find out if he went along with her now and answered her questions.
And so, lying in bed, with her soft, fragrant hair tickling his chest, he held her to him tightly and told her how things had gone down.
How Eddy had simply…died. Well, maybe not so simply. He had stabbed Trevor. Trevor had threatened him. Told him the truth. He was going to die.
When he was done, Skye said, “That was why you didn’t stay the night with me. You had an appointment with Edinger.”
“Not an appointment, but he was on my radar and knew it.”
“You were stalking him?”
“That’s what he called it, not me.”
“It was supposed to be like those other times, when you killed those suspects who got off murder charges at trial.”
“Always in self-defense,” he said firmly.
She laughed a little. “Always in set-up self-defense. And you got the Force Investigation guys to buy in to it. You may have saved some other lives in the process. But how did you feel when you killed them?”
Trevor felt her tense up, so he waited a minute, considering his answer. “I can’t say I like killing people. But in those kinds of situations, it’s more than revenge, if that’s what you’re thinking. I may be skirting the edge of what cops are allowed to do, but we’re charged with saving lives, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m preventing a few murderers who were released by an imperfect system from killing anyone else.”
“Then you really don’t like killing.” It was a statement, not a question. “I’m glad to hear that. I…I’m going to tell you some things in strictest confidence, Trevor.” She lifted her head, and he could read the earnestness in her gorgeous blue eyes. “Will you promise this will go no further? I have to reveal things I’ve vowed not to tell anyone, because I think you…I mean, I…Well, let’s just say it may be very important that you understand who, and what, I am.” Before he could voice his confusion, she continued. “I know I’m being cryptic, but I can’t explain until I get your promise. Will you keep what I tell you to yourself?”
She was obviously very concerned. And very serious. And very beautiful. He couldn’t refuse her anything just then, with her warm, naked body against his, her expression so confused and yet so caring….
“Scout’s honor,” he said with a smile, raising his hand as if taking an oath.
“SWAT’s honor would be better.”
He agreed.
“And there’s another promise I need from you. With what I’m going to explain to you about Eddy Edinger, I need for you to swear that you’re serious, that since you don’t like killing, you won’t use the…ability I’m about to describe, except as you’ve been doing without it—setting up suspects you’re sure are guilty, I mean.”
What the hell was she talking about?
“Yeah, right,” he said, trying not to glare at her. “I promise.” But what was she driving at?
He soon found out—and wished he hadn’t. Skye told him an utterly bizarre and ridiculous story, sounding entirely serious.
It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Only…it would explain how he’d survived being shot in the neck by Marinaro and heard Skye calling him back to life. And why he’d had hallucinations of Wes Danver’s death—and, nearly, his own. It would also explain what had happened to Edinger.
Would he tell anyone what Skye had said? Hell, no. He might back off really fast from the way he’d started to care for her, but he wouldn’t be the instrument of her being tossed into a loony bin with the key thrown away.
When she was done, he extricated himself from her embrace and dressed quickly.
“You don’t believe me,” she said sadly. “I knew you wouldn’t. At least not until you’ve had time to think about it and all that’s happened. But you’ll keep your promise, won’t you?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said.
Since they’d left the bedroom, Bella was back by her side. Skye had put on a soft white robe but was otherwise naked.
“And, yeah,” he said, “in answer to your question, I do have some Scandinavian ancestors, on my maternal grandmother’s side. I guess that’s supposed to matter?”
“That’s part of the legend,” she affirmed.
“You have to admit,” he retorted, “that it all sounds…well, crazy.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Her arms were crossed, and she looked both belligerent and defensive. “Look, Trevor. I know you don’t buy it, but that’s your problem. Mine is to make sure you don’t abuse the power you think you don’t have.”
“Goodbye, Skye.” He turned and strode out into the night.
Chapter 16
H e thought she was nuts. No big surprise.
But it still hurt, Skye thought for at least the hundredth time since Trevor left a few hours ago. She got Bella out of her black-and-white in the station’s parking lot that was lit with energy-saving outdoor lights.
Her partner and she were on the very early morning shift that day, and with luck, she wouldn’t run into Trevor. Hopefully, his shift did not start until later.
Because they worked from the same location, she wouldn’t be able to put off their meeting forever. In fact, that would be a bad idea. But she needed to steel herself against his scoffing…and keep close watch to make sure he didn’t use his possible life-and-death power cavalierly.
Inside the station, she clocked in, and Bella and she headed for her cubicle. But before she got there, officers in full gear started streaming down the hall on either side of them. The radio on her utility belt sang out at the same time, giving the code number for her to report to a crime scene.
“Hey, you’re here.” Ron Gollar caught up with her. “Another shooting incident and possible homicide. Sounds like Marinaro’s M.O. You called out on it?”
“I am now.” Grimly, Skye confirmed with the chief, hurried with Bella to her locker to extract their protective gear and sped out.
The site was a strip mall in one of Angeles Beach’s most seedy, unattractive areas. It was a popular spot for prostitution and drug dealing. Skye’s initial thought was to wonder why the department’s powers-that-be thought this was another of Marinaro’s crimes. He hadn’t worked under cover of darkness before. And a place like this
wasn’t his norm, either.
She parked her black-and-white and brought Bella out on her leash, donning her protective vest and helmet over her uniform and putting on Bella’s gear. Standing with other newly arrived officers, Skye got a rundown from the sergeant in charge of securing the scene as she watched the EMTs hustle from their vehicle and head to the alley behind a store, where the victim had been found.
Although this was a commercial area, there were apartment buildings nearby. A couple of residents had apparently heard gunshots and called 911. When a unit responded, they found a female victim in the alleyway. Her clothes were ripped and she had apparently been sexually assaulted before being shot. The injuries to her body and the location of the shots were Marinaro-style.
When he was done, the sergeant hurried off. Skye stood still for a moment, waiting. Listening—and not just to the chaos of the crime scene around her.
But there was no chanting. No indication that the victim hovered between life and death. Nothing Skye could do for her. She was already gone.
She sighed, but didn’t stand there for long. It was time to do her other job: try to find who had done this.
Skye was given a shell casing and gloves dropped at the scene for Bella to sniff, then search for the perpetrator. She soon learned why the shopping center was so popular with the less-than-savory crowd. It was a rabbit warren of footpaths and alleyways and passages that allowed quick getaways if the hookers or dealers thought their shady transactions were compromised. This had to be another reason Marinaro was considered a suspect. His prior crime scenes also had easy means of escape.
The two K-9 officers on-site, Skye and Igoa, were paired with other cops for protection in this difficult area to monitor. Skye was relieved when Ron Gollar was assigned to accompany Bella and her. She trusted him to watch their backs.
“You girls lead the way,” he told her, his weapon drawn.
As Skye let Bella determine where to go, she remained alert, keeping her partner close. Ron had to stay behind them, not what Skye preferred. Bella might be harmed before either Ron or she could reach the suspect. But the pathways between the one-and two-story buildings were narrow, and the dim illumination from her flashlight didn’t let her see more than a few feet ahead.
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