Up In Flames: Body HeatCaught in the Act

by Lori Foster

  “He told the guy—nicely—to back off. A punch was thrown, and within seconds, Mick had the guy flattened. The others tried to rush him, three against one, but Mick didn’t have any problem handling them.” Zack chuckled. “He sure got Josh’s respect that day.”

  “You two didn’t help him?”

  “He didn’t give us a chance,” Zack claimed defensively. “At least not with the actual fight. But afterward Josh insisted on buying him a drink—insist being the operative word, because Mick was hell-bent on keeping to himself—and the rest is history. It still took us half a year to get him to loosen up, to finally realize we weren’t in cahoots with the bad guys. But we’ve been pretty close ever since.”

  “You’re saying Mick doesn’t come by trust easily?”

  “You have to get him there kicking and screaming.”

  She smiled, thinking that a pretty apt picture. “Why?”

  “Now that’s something you’ll have to ask Mick.”

  “I’m glad you’re not telling all my secrets, Zack.”

  Zack gave Del a reassuring squeeze and turned to face Mick with a grin. “Just trying to help out.”

  Josh stood next to Mick. “Good luck. I just got read the riot act for that very same thing.”

  “You,” Zack said, “had it coming.”

  Mick actually smiled. “You know, Zack, sometimes it’s hard as hell to tell whose side you’re on.”

  “I’m on the side of the right and just.” He saluted Mick. “I suppose you’re ready for us to make our exit?”

  “I wouldn’t be that rude.”

  Josh snorted. “He told me to get the hell out.” So saying, Josh went to Del and hugged her right off her feet. “If he gives you any problems, call me.”

  Over Josh’s shoulder, Del saw Mick’s expression harden, and she quickly disengaged herself. “I’ll be fine.”

  Josh teased, “But just in case...”

  Zack grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him away. “I need to get home for Dani, so we’ll see you both later. Mick, if you need anything, just let us know.”

  Mick didn’t answer; he was too busy watching Del.

  She shifted uncomfortably, then heard the front door close. Now what? she wondered.

  Mick came a step closer to her. She felt hemmed in by his imposing silence and the cold sink at her back.

  She wasn’t sure what she expected, but he only said, “You look exhausted. Why don’t you take a warm shower while I hook up all your computer stuff? Or are you hungry? I can fix you something to eat.”

  She shook her head, very unsure of herself and the situation. “A shower sounds nice. But I...I don’t know where it is.”

  Appearing pained, he closed his eyes, then opened them with a rueful sigh. “I’ll show you around.”

  It was a two-bedroom house with hardwood floors and a small cream-and-black tiled bathroom. He showed her his bedroom, his air watchful, then the guest bedroom across the narrow hallway. Del peeked into both rooms.

  His dark gaze pierced her careful reserve. “You can use whichever room you want.” Unnamed emotions deepened his voice.

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “Wherever you want me to.”

  Well, heck. That put the decision back on her, and she felt too unsteady to force the issue at the moment. She gestured toward the smaller room. “I’ll use this one.”

  With no inflection whatsoever, Mick said, “All right. I’ll put your things in there.” He led her back into the bathroom. “Towels are in the linen closet right here, and shampoo and stuff is already on the tub ledge.”

  He started to turn away and she reached for him. The muscles in his forearm tightened when her hand closed around his wrist. “Mick?”

  He looked from her hand to her face. “Yeah?”

  Del wanted to groan. He was so stiff, so...formal. She had a feeling he was trying not to pressure her, but she wished he would... No, she didn’t know what she wanted.

  “Is there any chance they know where you live?”

  “No. We weren’t followed today. Dane made sure of that, and I trust him. And only my closest friends, and the people I work with, have my address.”

  “But...”

  In the briefest of touches, his fingertips grazed her cheek. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do, honey. I wanted to wait until I got you here, so you couldn’t change your mind about staying with me. But now I think I have to come clean.”

  Del stiffened. “If you’re going to hurt me again, Mick Dawson—”

  “No.” His fingers tunneled into her hair, stroking her warmly. “I swear, I’ll do my best never to hurt you again. But what I have to say will probably make you madder than hell.”

  She could deal with mad, she supposed. “All right.”

  “Take your shower, get comfortable, then we’ll sit down and lay everything out in the open.”

  She wasn’t at all sure she liked the sound of that, but figured he was right. From here on out, she wanted, demanded, honesty. If he couldn’t give her that, they had nothing.

  * * *

  Mick gave a satisfied nod. He’d managed to accomplish a lot while she showered. But then, she’d stayed in there forever. Too many times to count he’d wanted to check on her, to make sure she wasn’t crying or upset, but he knew getting too close to her while she was naked and wet would be his downfall.

  So he clenched his teeth and worked. He had her computer, printer and fax machine all set up in a neat little organized corner. He’d given her his own padded desk chair, and taken one from the dinette set for himself. He’d hung her clothes in the closet, changed the sheets on the guest bed—a bed that had never been used. Canned chicken noodle soup simmered on the stove.

  He’d called his sergeant and explained things, and spoken with both Faradon and Dane. Unfortunately, the apartment next to Del’s was indeed empty, but they had been able to get some fingerprints. Running them would take some time.

  Mick had just finished cutting two sandwiches into halves when Delilah walked in.

  Her wet hair was combed straight back from her forehead and she’d pulled on loose shorts and a T-shirt. Barefoot as usual, she padded toward him and pulled out a chair. “I hadn’t realized I was hungry, but the soup smells good.”

  Mick was so tense even his knuckles hurt as he put some soup in a bowl and set it before her. They ate in silence. When she was almost finished, he said, “I’m not a private investigator.”

  Her head lifted, her eyes wide and cautious. “You’re not?”

  Because he couldn’t stop himself, Mick pushed his bowl aside and took her hand. “At first I lied out of necessity. I can’t tell everyone the truth, that’s just a fact of my job. Why I continued to let you believe the lie, I’m not sure. I told myself that we didn’t know each other well enough. Too many things didn’t add up.” He met her beautiful blue eyes and admitted, “Actually, I think I was just afraid.”

  “Of me?”

  He looked down at their clasped hands. She was so small boned, so delicate despite her height. She had a willowy appearance, and he wanted nothing more than to protect and cherish her. “It isn’t easy to admit, but you scare the hell out of me.”

  Time stretched taut while she pondered those words. She turned her hand in his and returned his hold. After taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay, so what do you really do?”

  “I’m a cop. I work undercover.”

  She stared at him, silent.

  “I’d just finished a bust when I met you, which is a good thing, since I don’t have a medical release to get back to work yet, and I hate turning over a case to someone new. It screws up the work that’s already been done.”

  Still holding his hand, Delilah rested her free arm on the table and leaned for
ward, her animosity and distrust replaced by curiosity. “That’s why you were armed?”

  “Dane and Alec really are PIs. But yeah, I never go anywhere without my gun. Used to be a gun would make you stick out as a cop, but these days not having a gun would be a bigger giveaway. The world has turned into a nasty place.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “What you do, is it dangerous?”

  “Sometimes.” Lying to her was no longer an option. “I mostly deal with prostitutes and drugs and gambling. Because of what I do, I live well away from where I work.”

  “I noticed.”

  Of course she had. Delilah was no dummy, he thought with a sense of pride. Even more encouraging was the fact that she hadn’t yet pulled away from him. He took hope. “Rudy knew I was a cop. He said you knew and had told him.”

  He felt her slight emotional withdrawal when she stated, “But now you know that isn’t true.”

  He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, trying to soothe her. “I assume he heard me on the phone, talking to my sarge while I was at your apartment.”

  “Where was I?”

  “The shower, the bed, involved in writing.”

  “Oh.”

  “Delilah...I’m sorry.”

  “No, I understand.”

  “Do you? Because I sure as hell don’t.” Self-disgust rose in his throat. “That first night I spent with you, I should have told you the truth.”

  “As I remember it, that first night I was too busy seducing you,” she said, her tone lighter, more accepting.

  “And here I thought I was the seducer.”

  Her face suddenly paled and she swallowed. “All the while, someone watched us.”

  “Don’t think about that.” Mick wanted to pull her into his lap, to hold her close. Instead, he redirected her thoughts. “If one of Rudy’s cohorts did hear me, they still wouldn’t know I was undercover. The station protects my identity.”

  Mick could see her researcher’s mind at work. She frowned thoughtfully and said, “I think I understand how all this works, although I’ve never interviewed an undercover officer before.”

  “Now’s your chance,” he teased, so relieved that she wasn’t angry, he almost felt weak.

  “You drive your personal car to the station, but then trade up for an undercover car?”

  “Not exactly. No uniforms ever know who’s undercover. There’s a special place where we switch cars, provided by the city. Once a car gets burnt up—”

  “Burnt up?”

  “Recognized.” She nodded and he continued. “Then we get a new car.”

  “Something old and disreputable?” she asked, her nose wrinkling at the thought even as her eyes lit up with interest.

  He shrugged. “Sometimes. But sometimes we get a fancy car. You never know. It depends on the case.”

  “You work with a partner?”

  “Not exactly, but no one ever works without backup. We all carry pagers and cell phones—another common tool among criminals, thankfully. If something goes wrong, we have special codes we can dial to get help fast.”

  They talked for over an hour. Delilah surprised him with her understanding. But then maybe it was just her desire to learn about his profession that swayed her. He told her about how wires could be detected with special devices that ran through TVs. If the TV reception got wavy, meaning it had picked up the wire’s reception, a perp might know he’d been set up, and things could get hazardous real quick.

  Mick told her about his jump-out bag. It held a mask to cover his face when he made arrests, so the perps wouldn’t recognize him. And about his vest, which he wore even when it was ninety degrees outside. He described the SIG Sauer guns some punks carried, and the hollow-point bullets used to make a bigger wound.

  Everything he told her, no matter how gruesome, only made her curious for more. In so many ways she delighted him, excited him, alternately brought forth his lust and his protectiveness.

  When she started yawning, Mick stood to put their bowls in the dishwasher. “I think it’s time for you to get some rest. After everything I put you through today, you have to be exhausted.”

  He turned to see her rubbing her eyes tiredly. “I’m wiped out.” But she didn’t stand, didn’t make a move to go to bed. She just stared at her hands.

  Mick closed the dishwasher and stood at her side. “You don’t have to be nervous here, Delilah. My house is secure, and Faradon has someone driving by every fifteen minutes. You’re safe.”

  “I know.” Still she didn’t move.

  Mick knelt down beside her. “What can I do?” he asked. He searched her face, and wished like hell he had some answers. “I know I can’t make up for not trusting you, but I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

  She stared at his hand on her knee. “You don’t owe me. What you did...it’s understandable. I just wish you’d talked to me first. Together we might have...”

  “I’m a bastard, I know.” He worked his jaw, then pointed out, “You haven’t yelled at me at all.”

  Her slender shoulder lifted in a halfhearted shrug. “At first I was too devastated to yell. Then too hurt. Now...well, now I understand.”

  “I’d feel better if you’d yell.”

  Her soft mouth curled at his words, which weren’t quite facetious. “There’s no point to it.”

  And Mick had to wonder if that meant she considered him a lost cause, not worth the effort of a good yell.

  Time, he’d have to give her time. “Come on. I think I’m ready for bed, too.”

  Looking at him through her inky lashes, she stood. He couldn’t decipher her mood, and hated the helplessness he felt.

  They went down the hall together, and Mick allowed himself to hold her for just a moment. He kissed her forehead and stepped away. “If you need anything, or want anything, I’m right next door.”

  She nodded. “Good night.”

  Mick stared at that damn closed door for far too long before taking himself off to bed. He doubted he’d get any sleep, and in fact, he wasn’t tired at all. His body hummed with tension, with leftover adrenaline.

  He left his door ajar so he’d hear her if she called out. Lying there in the darkness, he went over all the possibilities, but couldn’t come up with a good reason why Rudy would want her dead.

  It had to be linked to Neddie Moran somehow. It was just too much of a coincidence for her to have known Neddie before he was killed, and for Neddie’s death to have taken place so close to the attempt on her life.

  Mick turned to the bedside table and picked up the phone. Hitting the lighted numbers, he called Faradon.

  “It better be important,” Faradon grumbled. It sounded to Mick like the man was eating, but then Faradon probably ate a lot. He was as big as a bear.

  “Did you find any connection between Neddie Moran and Rudy Glasgow yet?”

  “Nope, not a thing so far. But then it could be Neddie knew one of the other guys, and without their names, we’re lost. The prints’ll probably help. Don’t worry, we’ll keep digging. We’re bound to turn up something soon.”

  Frustrated, Mick had just replaced the receiver into the cradle and settled back when his door squeaked open.

  Delilah’s silhouette was outlined by the faint light coming through his windows. “Mick?”

  Mick’s body thrummed to life as he propped himself up on one elbow. Unless his eyes deceived him, she wore only a T-shirt. He forced the raw hunger from his tone and asked as gently as possible, “You okay, babe?”

  She crept closer, hesitated. “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

  Those softly spoken words had a startling effect on his libido, an even bigger effect on his heart. Mick lifted his sheet, inviting her into his bed.

  She hurried the rest of the way to him and slipped in b
y his side. For a second, she kept a slight distance between them. Mick didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and then she turned to him and gripped him tight, and all the pent-up tension inside him exploded.

  * * *

  “Christ, I’m sorry, so damn sorry,” he murmured into her hair. His hold was tight and infinitely gentle.

  Del cuddled closer, comforted by his scent, the warmth of his skin.... “You’re not wearing anything?”

  He stilled, then said, “I can put something on if you want.”

  “No.” She loved touching him, and she needed the feel of him right now. All of him. The hair on his chest provided a nice cushion for her cheek, and she nuzzled into him. “Just hold me, okay?”

  He turned to face her, drew her closer into his body so that he surrounded her, protected her. Always. Del felt a fat tear sting the corner of her eye. God, he was always trying to protect her.

  “Does it bother you?” she whispered into the darkness, into the safety of his nearness.

  “Hell, yes.” His large hand opened on the back of her head, his rough fingertips sinking in to cradle her scalp, massage, soothe. “When I think of those bastards looking at you, I want to kill them. I could kill them.”

  Del sniffed and laughed and continued to cry softly. She was so damned confused. “No,” she chided, wanting to hear him, to borrow some of his strength. “I meant does it bother you that they saw you. Your privacy was invaded as much as mine.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it,” he said. “At first I was just blind with...”

  “Rage? Because you thought I had lied to you?”

  He shook his head, then nuzzled her shoulder and squeezed her until she squeaked. “I hate to admit it,” he rumbled against her throat, “but you deserve the truth. Ugly as it might be, regardless of how damn asinine I feel about it.”

  “The truth?”

  “It wasn’t rage I felt first, but this awful drowning hurt.” He pressed his mouth to the skin of her throat, her shoulder. “There aren’t many people in this world who could hurt me. But thinking that you’d used me, that you were laughing at me...it knocked my legs out from under me. It was all I could do to get the hell out of Rudy’s hospital room without ripping him apart.”