His nose twitched. Whatever the hell Orlov was doing to him made him want to scream. He’d never experienced anything like this, the infuriating, irritating tickle, and wished to God for the chance to rub the itch from his nose.
Something rough and wet suddenly swept across his cheek, followed by that maddening tickle. He cringed and when he shifted his head, sharp, tiny daggers pinched his nose. He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to fight. He had to keep his control. He had to—
Hudson snapped open his eyes, then froze.
Memories of last night hit him full force. He was in Eden’s townhouse, not a cavern basement in the jungles of Columbia. His arms weren’t tied behind his back, but sleep numb. And the weight on his chest wasn’t some sort of torture device but a...cat.
A very large, very menacing looking cat.
As big as a dog, with long yellow hair, the cat sized him up with one eye. The other looked as if it had been sewn shut. A scar ran from the damaged eye to the top of its head were there should have been an ear.
Damn the thing was ugly. And heavy as hell.
“Shoo,” he whispered, his nose still itchy, likely from the cat’s fur brushing against his face. And to think he’d been having a nightmare about Orlov. It had been years since the Russian had invaded his sleep.
The images from the DVD he’d watched last night with Ian ran front and center through his head. The torture, the cruelty. No wonder the Russian had come for a visit. Now he had to deal with another nightmare. Some crazed doctor who was into slicing and dicing, and...Eden Risk.
Last night he’d told her she looked pretty good, but that had been a lie. Just a way to needle her, and maybe crawl under her skin. Her looks were important to her. She wasn’t the type to flaunt them, and she wasn’t vain. But she always had to look perfect. How he’d ended up in bed with her he’d never understood. She was class, and he was...crass. Hell, last night was the first time he’d ever seen her in a pair of sweatpants. Given the choice, he’d live in them or jeans every day.
She had looked kinda cute, though. All rumpled...sexy.
Shit. He had to focus. Not on her, but on whoever had been behind that DVD. Christ, then there’s the potential stalker, which they’d never discussed. Tired as he’d been, he’d wanted to, but he’d seen the strain, the shock of the evening’s events etched on her face. Seen how hard it had been for her to maintain control. And control was something she lived for.
They’d talk soon enough. About the stalker, about a few rules he expected her to follow while he was stuck on this case. But first he had to find a way to remove the lion cub from his chest without it clawing off his face.
The cat winked its golden eye, then yawned, revealing a hell of a set of sharp teeth.
Yeah, easier said than done.
“Okay, big guy, I need to move. So why don’t you—”
Slippered feet shuffled against the wood floor. “Fabio, where are you?” Eden sang—terribly—as she entered the living room. The cat raised its head and purred.
The shuffling suddenly stopped and Eden burst out laughing.
“Funny,” he said, eyeing the cat. “I take it you know Baby Huey?”
“Duh. He lives here,” she said as she leaned over the couch and looked down at first him, then the cat. Instead of shooing the thing off, she stroked its yellow hair.
“I didn’t see him last night.”
“Fabio’s a big baby and doesn’t like strangers.”
“You don’t say. How ‘bout getting him off me before he takes off my face.”
She came around the front of the couch, wearing a too big plaid, flannel robe and clashing baggie pajama bottoms, then sat on the edge of the coffee table. “He wouldn’t do that. First, he’s declawed. Second he’s a sweetie. Aren’t you, baby? Come to mama,” she coaxed and patted her thigh. The cat jumped on her lap with surprising grace.
With the weight literally off his chest, Hudson shoved off the couch and stared at her. Last night’s sweatpants had been one thing, all that flannel, well, who didn’t like flannel when the weather turned to shit? But he’d never seen her so...comfortable. Normally her hair was styled perfectly. Hell, even after a session of hot sex, she’d walked from his bed looking just as good as she had when she’d climbed in with him. This morning, though, her straight, dark hair had been pulled back in a slack, messy ponytail. He’d never seen her without make-up and he thought she still looked gorgeous. Soft. Inviting.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve only seen cats that size at the zoo or in the jungle. What the hell is it? Besides big and ugly.”
“Don’t talk like that.” She cupped Fabio’s only ear. “He’s sensitive.”
Eden had to have snapped at some point during the past two years. Literally. Since when did this woman, this no bullshit, headstrong woman, become all sensitive?
“Whatever, Dr. Dolittle,” he said, hiding his irritation. She could let her guard down, shed her hard as nails persona for a frickin’ cat, but she’d never bothered to make the effort with him. During those months they’d been together, she’d come willingly to his bed, or she’d invite him to hers. Their pillow talk had been fun and sexy. They had exchanged stories, but never secrets. And after a while, that had bothered him. For the first time…ever, he’d been intrigued by a woman and he’d begun to trust enough to want to give more of himself than he’d ever been willing to in the past. Unfortunately, despite the intimate moments they’d shared, she had kept herself guarded. Instead of trying to find a way to break through her barriers, he’d gone and screwed everything up with her. He’d regretted that night for over two years. And the mistake she’d promised him she would never forgive.
A noise at his feet distracted him from the memories of the hurt and betrayal that had clouded her eyes when she’d told him to go to hell. Which had probably been for the best. Eden was chaos. Her career kept her on the go and in the limelight. Traipsing around the world, first as a Marine, then for the CIA, he’d experienced enough chaos. He wanted normalcy. A house in the burbs, a lawn to mow, bushes to trim. Hell, maybe he’d even take up golf.
He glanced down, then at the last second controlled the urge to kick. What he’d initially thought was a large rat dry heaving at his feet was a small dog attempting to bark. With ears bigger than its head, and huge brown eyes that took up most of its face, the thing was uglier than the cat, and about a quarter of the size.
“I don’t know why, but I think he likes you, too.” She set the cat on the floor. “He’s usually a better judge of character.”
Ah, there’s the Eden he knew. The animals hadn’t brainwashed her yet.
She scooped up the rat dog and kissed its head. “This is Brutal. And I’m betting he has to go potty. Don’t you, boy?”
Brutal dry-heaved a response as he squirmed out of her hold. When she set him down, the dog teetered on three legs.
He glanced between the two animals. “Must have been one hell of a fight.”
“Not with each other. Fabio’s original owner had sold him to some jackass who thought it would be cool to see how a Maine Coon cat would hold up to a Pit Bull.”
Her face hardened with anger and disgust as she lovingly stroked the cat’s fur. “I happened to be working a story near the local animal shelter when one of their employees approached me and told me about Fabio. I’d been ready to give her the brush off because I’m constantly approached by people who think they’ve got something hot for me to investigate. For some reason I didn’t.”
She bent and kissed the top of the cat’s head, then stood. “Brutal had been brought in that same day. His throat torn and his leg mangled by only God knows what.” She moved to the hall closet, then pulled out a heavy winter coat.
“So you saved them.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes I think it’s the other way around.”
Before he could analyze that remark, she’d unlocked the front door. “Where are you going?” He shoved his feet into his boots.
“
To take Brutal potty before his little bladder explodes.”
He looked to the three-legged dog. God, the thing was ugly. “I’ll do it,” he growled as he moved past her to grab his coat off the rack. If the dog was a German Shepherd, he wouldn’t have cared. But this...rat. Not so manly.
She half-laughed, half-snorted. “Did you just growl at me?”
He zipped his coat and reached for the dog’s leash. “Yeah, so? You just snorted. What’s the difference?”
She shoved the leash behind her back. “It’s my dog. I’ll take him outside.”
“No. I’ll take the damned dog out.” He reached behind her, but she shifted and slipped the leash into her other hand. Pressing against her bulky coat, he reached again. Only she’d slipped the leash back causing him to fumble and twine his fingers over hers.
Even though her coat’s thickness rivaled a fluffy pillow, and she wore ugly, baggy clothes beneath, the faint traces of her citrusy perfume made his mouth water and drove him crazy. With memories. Eden naked, hot and willing, offering him the sweetest pleasure. Those memories also spurred his anger. He didn’t want to want her. Even if she’d decided to forgive him, she’d played with his head before and he wouldn’t allow it to happen again. She was an assignment. Protecting her and finding a killer were his only concerns.
He pinned her wrists behind her back. “Use your head. You’ve been sent a sick DVD and might have a stalker. Either I take the rat out to go potty, or he pisses all over your floor.”
“Fine,” she said and released the leash. “But don’t you dare think you can waltz into my house and tell me...are you even listening?”
“Nope. Didn’t quite hear anything after fine,” he said and scooped up the dog. Without another word, he slammed the door behind him, then stomped down the front steps. When he reached a small grassy spot in front of her townhouse, he carefully set the rat down, attached the leash to his collar then drew in a deep breath.
Well, so much for thinking she’d changed. Her way or no way. Always was, always will be.
Not this time.
If he had to babysit her while trying to figure out who had sent the DVD, they’d play by his rules. She’d watched the DVD and should be scared out of her mind. She should be hiding in her townhouse with the doors bolted and the alarm set to DEFCON one. Maximum readiness.
Which reminded him...
While Brutal—such a stupid name for a five-pound Chihuahua—sniffed for a spot to do his business, Hudson called Ian. After telling him what he needed to rig Eden’s security system to his liking, he then called Detective Bob Mallory. By the time he’d ended the call, Brutal stood at the bottom of the steps, tugging at the leash and staring at him expectantly. “C’mon,” Hudson said as he picked up the dog. “Let’s go see if your mama made some coffee.”
Brutal licked his face, then nuzzled his cold wet nose into the collar of his coat. “Cut it out,” Hudson half-laughed as he opened the door, then caught himself actually enjoying the way the little rat had cuddled against him and set him on the floor.
The aroma of coffee hit him as he shrugged out of his jacket. After he’d placed it on the coat rack, he headed for the kitchen with a plan of attack.
When he rounded the corner, he realized Eden had other ideas of how the morning would go. Tying her tennis shoe, and dressed in tight spandex leggings and a hooded sweatshirt, she looked ready to go for a run. “What are you doing?”
She stood and propped her hands on her hips.
And what the hell had happened to all of her curves? Last night she’d worn baggy sweats. This morning she’d been bundled in loose flannel. He’d assumed the big clothes were what had made her appear so skinny, but he’d been wrong. There was nothing to her. Her legs and hips had lost their sexy curves. Her ass...he’d loved holding her sweetly rounded ass when he’d drove himself deep inside, but he doubted he’d find an ounce of flesh to hang onto now. Not that she was offering. And not that he’d be interested if she did offer.
Liar.
He’d never forgotten the slide of her soft body against his. How she’d wrapped her legs around his back, dug her nails into his shoulders, cried out his name as she came.
“I’m going to get in a quick workout,” she said as she drew a water bottle from the refrigerator. “Coffee’s brewing. Help yourself.”
She started for the hallway, refocusing his attention to the present, not the past. In a few strides, he blocked her. “Your workout can wait. We need to talk.”
With a quick glance to the kitchen clock, she released a breath. “Fine, but I’m on a time crunch. I need to be at the station—”
“Screw that, your workouts, and everything else. We’re on my time now.”
She crossed her arms and cocked a dark brow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, and we’re not going anywhere for a while. I got a guy dropping off what I need to beef up your security and Mallory will be here around eight-thirty.”
“And how is it you have his number?”
He leaned closer, torturing himself and likely irritating her. “From when you and I were...ah...what were we doing anyway?”
She shoved at his chest. “Making a big mistake.”
He followed her into the kitchen. “Glad we cleared that up,” he said even though he’d never considered what they’d had a mistake. How he’d handled the situation with her source? Yeah, that had been bad. But everything before that night had been more than good, and definitely not a mistake. “Now let’s talk about your stalker.”
With an exasperated sigh, she opened a cupboard, then slid a mug across the counter. “I don’t have a stalker.”
He caught the mug, then poured himself a cup of coffee. “Mallory says you had a bunch of crank calls and text messages last month.” He leaned against the counter next to her. “They bothered you enough to turn to him.”
“They bothered me. They didn’t scare me. Plus, they weren’t the first I’ve ever received, and I doubt they’ll be the last.”
He supposed plenty of celebrities, local and otherwise, had their share of screwy fans, but he’d never considered Eden a celebrity. Maybe because she’d never acted like one, or at least his perception of one. Perception. There was that word again. He’d bring up what the doctor from the DVD had said about perfection and perception later, though. Right now, he wanted to discuss the leads on the possible stalker.
“Did Mallory find out who was making the calls and texts?”
She shook her head. “They came from two different cell phones. Both had been reported stolen. Then one day they just stopped.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Not much to tell,” she said, looked to the clock again, then fidgeted with what he figured was a heart rate monitor around her wrist. Man, she must be itching for that workout.
“There were only four voicemails. The voice was weird, kind of reminded me of Yoda, you know, from Star Wars. And the messages the old Jedi left were all pretty much the same. ‘You think you’re so pretty, but you’re not’ or ‘Chicago can’t wait for you to leave, I know I can’t’.” She shook her head. “Harmless really and the three texts were basically the same thing. Telling me I should leave town, do everyone a favor and never show my face on TV again.”
“Did you save the messages?”
“I just deleted them last week. There didn’t seem a point in saving them. They weren’t threatening and the last time he’d contacted me was almost four weeks ago.”
A knock came at the door. Probably Lloyd with the equipment he’d requested. When she moved to answer, he stopped her. “Look,” he began. “Until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with, consider yourself in danger.”
“Really, Hudson. I think you’re being—”
“Careful.” He tucked a loose strand that had slipped from her ponytail behind her ear. “Just being careful.”
Eden kept her gaze on him as he walked to the door, and swore her skin still tingled from where his fingers had l
ingered. She pushed away the sudden, sharp longing and looked to the clock for the umpteenth time. Damn. She only had an hour before Bob showed, which meant she’d have no time to squeeze in a workout. It also meant she’d have to cut back her calorie intake today.
She put the water bottle back in the fridge, then poured a cup of coffee. The door slammed, followed by heavy footsteps. She’d know that walk anywhere. Hudson had a certain swagger, a walk that demanded respect and oozed confidence.
“I’m gonna get to work on your security system,” he called from the hallway. “Do you have another monitor anywhere else besides the front foyer?”
“Bedroom,” she answered, then cringed. “But I’m going to take a shower, so you’ll have to wait.”
He rounded the corner wearing a cocky grin. “Nothin’ I ain’t seen, but lock the bathroom door if you’re worried I can’t control myself.”
Without a word, because for once she couldn’t think of a snappy comeback, she took her mug and made her way to the bedroom. Fabio and Brutal were curled up on her bed together, sleeping. How she’d love to join them, and sleep through the day. She wasn’t ready to face Bob yet and she wasn’t sure how to handle the demand the man on the DVD had made. Even if the station manager, Rodger Jeffries, would let her use airtime to send the man a message, what would she say? And although the DVD held the utmost priority, she still had to finish the final episode of her series.
Then there was Hudson.
Climbing into the shower, she let the hot spray wash over her. But she couldn’t wash away the longing or the regret.
She’d stupidly fallen for Hudson, only he hadn’t been the man she’d thought…steady, worthy of her trust. He’d made her want to lose control and live up to her pseudonym. Risk her heart for something other than her lonely career.
Thank God she’d been too scared to admit that she’d cared about him. The blow he’d dealt to her heart and ego had been bad enough. The betrayal, the way he’d used her.
Killer Romances Page 95