by Sandra Owens
Taylor had hinted in the past that she’d love to go with them sometime, but he’d never invited her. There wasn’t any question in his mind that he’d like having her ride behind him too much. Better to just avoid the temptation. Now Alex had gone and taken that decision out of his hands. Baby brother was going to get an earful when he showed his face, which should be any time now.
Nate had avoided Taylor for the past three days, only talking to her on the phone when they needed to discuss the case, which left him feeling like a coward for hiding out. He had needed a little time to put that kiss out of his mind, but so far avoidance wasn’t working. All he’d thought about, night and day, was how much he wanted to kiss Taylor Collins again. And that was just for starters.
He sighed in defeat, then texted her back.
Be at my place at 10
Awesome ☺
Like an idiot, he smiled back at the smiley face.
“Bro, what’s up?” Alex said, coming up behind him and slapping him on the back.
“Besides your murder?”
Alex slid onto the barstool next to him. “If you’d stop being so stubborn, I wouldn’t have to arrange a date for you with the lady of your dreams. You’d be doing it yourself.”
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“You pull another stunt like that, and your lovely wife will be without your services for the next year.”
His idiot brother laughed. “You can try, but I feel compelled to remind you that I’m a black belt and you’re not.”
“Which is why I’m going to kill you while you’re sleeping.” He eyed the door. “And the gang’s all here.” Hector Ramirez was one of the last to come in, and while most of the club made a beeline for the pool tables, Hector headed for the bar, choosing a stool next to the far wall.
“I’ll get him a beer,” Nate told Riker, their bartender. He poured a draft, then took his bottle of beer and the mug over to Hector. “Dude, you look like you could use a beer. This one’s on me.”
“Thanks, man.” Hector lifted the mug to his mouth, downing half the contents.
“Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”
“No.” He drained the rest of the glass.
Nate refilled Hector’s mug. “Heard you had a visit from the FBI about a girl you dated. She was murdered, huh?”
“How’d you hear that?”
“You know these club dudes gossip worse than a pack of twelve-year-old girls. I had a girlfriend who was murdered.” A lie, but who was counting? “We’d broken up, but for a long time I thought I should have done something to save her.”
“You ever stop thinking that?” Hector said, his gaze intent on Nate.
“Not really.” Nate shrugged. “But she should have been smarter about who she hung with.”
“Yeah. She should’ve been.”
“Are we talking about my ex-girlfriend or yours?” Nate said, fully aware they were talking about Hector’s.
“She could’ve been my number-one bitch, ya know? All she had to do was quit the crack and whatever other shit she was taking. I told her that. Didn’t do any good.”
“That sucks, man.” Nate already knew that Hector’s mother had been an addict who’d overdosed when he was eleven years old. “I take it you don’t indulge?”
“Weed, booze, a little coke now and then, shit yeah. The hard stuff? Nope. I like keeping my teeth in my mouth.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Nate refilled Hector’s mug a third time. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“I dunno. Maybe two months ago? Like I keep a calendar of events.”
“So she leave you for some other dude?”
“How the hell should I know? The woman sold herself to any man with a few bucks in his pocket.” He looked up at Nate, suspicion in his eyes. “Why all the questions? You’re starting to sound like the fucking FBI, asking questions like I did her in. The blonde bitch was hot, though. Wouldn’t mind doing her.”
Since Nate was a lawman, he didn’t kill Hector on the spot for that last bit. The man was a douchebag, but he wasn’t their killer. “Yet you’re hanging over here by yourself, feeling guilty that you didn’t somehow help your ex-girlfriend.” Nate leaned toward Hector. “You got a tender heart, dude, but don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Fuck you, Gentry.”
Nate laughed. “No thanks.” As he walked by Riker, he said, “He pays for his next one.” Alex seemed to have everything in control for the time being, so Nate made a detour to the office. Normally, he would call Taylor, but now that they had an official date—thanks to his butthead brother—he wasn’t sure what to say to her. Instead, he logged on to the computer and typed her an email, recapping his conversation with Hector and writing that he agreed with her assessment that they could eliminate the man as a suspect unless some new information turned up linking him to the murders.
He hovered the cursor over Send, paused, sat back, and stared at the screen. She was his best friend, and he was treating her like she had the plague or something. He deleted the email, then called her.
“Hey, what’s up?” she said on answering.
“Just had a conversation with Hector Ramirez.” He filled her in, thinking as he did so that he was glad he’d called her. The thing he liked about Taylor, one of the many things, she never made it into a big deal whenever he was a jerk. She should, but he was glad she didn’t. Because of that, he tried not to be an ass too often.
“I got the profile back from Pauline,” she said. “I’ll shoot it over to you when we hang up.”
“You going into the office tomorrow?” She usually went in for a few hours on Saturday.
“Yeah.”
“Then hold on to it. I’ll stop by and read it there.”
“Great. I’ll see you in the morning, then. Oh, and Nate?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad we’re friends again.”
She hung up before he could answer. “Yeah, me too,” he said to dead air.
Taylor arrived at the bureau after spending the morning having breakfast with Rosie and the girls. She’d promised to be back by three to take them to the library to turn in their books and check out new ones.
Not one of them had liked to read when they’d first come to her and Rosie, but that was one thing Taylor was determined to teach them to enjoy. Reading made them smart and introduced them to worlds they’d never known. Her hope was that they’d want more out of life than working some job for minimum wage or, God forbid, deciding to drop out of school as soon as they legally could.
They could check out whatever they wanted, and right now the older ones had discovered the Harry Potter books and were devouring them. Once they finished a book, Taylor would have discussions with them about what they’d read. Annie loved any book with pictures of animals in it, frogs being her most favorite thing. For some reason, frogs made her giggle.
When Taylor had first started taking them to the library, they’d dragged their feet and fussed about having to go. Now, it was the highlight of their week. Each of their grades had remarkably improved in the past year, and she couldn’t be prouder of them.
“What’re you daydreaming about?”
Taylor tore her gaze from the window, her girls forgotten because of the man standing in front of her desk. He wore what she thought of as his Aces & Eights uniform, a black T-shirt with the bar’s logo on it, topped by an ace of spades card. Each of the brothers had their own card above the Aces & Eights logo on their work T-shirts. Nate was the ace, Court the king of clubs, and Alex the jack of hearts.
“You need a queen of diamonds,” she blurted.
“You asking for the role?”
That had sounded almost flirty, something new from her moody man. He never flirted. “And if I were?” One side of his mouth twitched, and she knew she shouldn’t feel so smug in being able to make him almost smile.
His gaze swept over her, and his eyes darkened. “You’d be a top co
ntender.”
Well, just wow, the reticent Nate Gentry really was flirting.
“But the role’s taken. Aces and Eights is the queen,” he said.
Just go and burst my bubble, Nate. He stepped to his desk, lowering his beautiful body—one she craved more than iced mocha coffees, her honest-to-God weakness—onto his chair.
“You got that profile?” He popped one of his wintergreen Tic Tacs into his mouth.
Back to business, then. She handed it to him, watching him as he read. The man was too freaking hot for his own good . . . Or maybe more like for her own good. How was she supposed to stop wanting to pull that leather band off so she could run her fingers through his long black hair?
She could totally see him with a sword strapped to his waist and armor covering his body, while the wind from the moors blew his hair around his head. Or better yet, bare chested, wearing nothing but leggings and leather boots. Just imagining how hot he’d be dressed like that, long hair falling over his shoulders, sent a lightning bolt straight to her stomach and parts below. She picked up a folder and fanned herself.
“Pauline says pretty much what we’re already thinking about our bad guy,” he said, handing the report back.
“Let your hair down.” Well, that had slipped out. But now that the fantasy was there in her mind, she wasn’t going to be able to quit thinking about it. In all the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him without his ponytail. He looked at her as if she were a green alien that had just stepped out of a spaceship.
“Seriously, I want to see your hair loose.”
“No.”
“That just makes me more determined, you know?” He knew how stubborn she was when she made up her mind she wanted something.
He tilted his head, studying her. “You smoke a joint or something? You’re talking weird and fanning yourself.”
“Funny.” If he only knew where her mind was, he’d be fanning her, too. She slid the report she’d already read several times back into its folder. “Want to have dinner with us before you head over to Aces and Eights tonight? Rosie’s making spaghetti.”
“I’ll have to take a rain check.” He pushed away from his desk, swiveling the chair so that he was facing her. “Listen, about you going undercover—”
“Don’t start, Nate. This creep’s going to strike again if we don’t stop him. The women he’s choosing have no one to fight for them.” If someone had cared enough, maybe her mother would be alive. And if anyone in law enforcement had given a damn about a dead prostitute, her killer would be in prison.
“They have you,” he said, softly.
“And you, along with everyone else here.”
“And we’ll catch him. What I was going to say before you bristled—”
“I don’t bristle.”
He grinned. “Yet, you did.”
It took every ounce of her willpower not to do a fist pump at seeing his mouth curve into the sexiest grin ever. Get his lips to twitch. Check. Get him to grin. Check. Get him to laugh. Working on it.
“Did not.” She put her foot on his knee and pushed, sending him rolling away. “Shut your mouth if you don’t want to have your manly self crying uncle.”
His eyes, already black, turned even blacker, and how was that even possible, she wondered. They smoldered as he stared at her with an intensity that almost had her climbing onto his lap. She might have if she hadn’t spied Rothmire coming down the hall, reminding her they were at work.
“Incoming,” she muttered, whipping out Pauline’s profile report.
“Boss man?”
She nodded.
He grinned again, a very devilish one this time. “I think I should tell him you have the hots for my body.”
What in the world had gotten into him? Whatever it was, she liked it, but Rothmire was only seconds away. “I swear, Nate, if you do, I’ll kill you,” she muttered.
His grin grew wider. “Hey, Rothmire,” he said without looking behind him. “Taylor has the—”
She kicked him.
“. . . profile of our killer back from Pauline.” He smirked at her, then popped a Tic Tac into his mouth.
She glared at him before lifting innocent eyes to their boss. “Pauline agrees that our bad guy is trying to atone for something in his past. He’s thirty-five to forty and probably lives alone. He has a job that is detail oriented, something along the lines of a technical writer or something in the finance area. He is or was very close to his mother. She thinks his mother is probably dead, most likely murdered. What’s new here is that she says we should watch for someone who grew up in one of the towns near Tamiami Trail, considering his familiarity with the area.”
“Was she a prostitute?” Rothmire asked.
“Pauline believes she was, or possibly the mistress of a married man,” Nate said. “If the latter, she feels the woman was abused and probably the son, too.”
Rothmire frowned. “Assuming Pauline’s right, does she have a guess as to how old our man was when his mother died?”
“No, unfortunately,” Taylor said. “If we knew that, it would narrow down our search for a murdered woman who lived somewhere along Alligator Alley. I wouldn’t be surprised if we find out the case was unsolved.” It was possible Pauline was completely wrong, but all her profiles in the past had been spot-on.
Nate flicked the button on the pen he held, making clicking noises. “Court will be back Sunday night. I’ll put him on looking for women who were murdered during the past thirty years or so in that area. It’s a lot of years and a lot of ground to cover, but that kind of thing is right up his alley. I want Alex to start reviewing all the files on our victims, see if he can find anything we missed. You and Josh can keep looking for witnesses who might have seen our three victims get in a car right before they disappeared.”
“A definite description of the car he uses would be a big help.” Taylor pulled out Pauline’s profile, scanning it. “There’s one other thing of interest. She doesn’t think he knew Linda Harding had children, that he would have picked someone different if he had. In talking to her daughters, they said that their mother kept them hidden in the building when she was working, so he probably didn’t know.”
She’d given that some thought, wondering how they could use it. Nate and Rothmire watched her expectantly, both of them knowing that her brain was in high gear and that she had more to say. That was what she loved about the Miami office. She didn’t know if it was the same for female agents elsewhere, but her boss and male counterparts respected her opinions, and best of all, they treated her as their equal. Not one of them had ever asked her to get them a cup of coffee. Of course, if they had, they’d have gotten it dumped on their heads, which they knew, so they weren’t stupid . . . Another thing she liked about them.
“I’m wondering if we should release a statement to the media that Linda was survived by two daughters. Pauline believes he would have picked a different prostitute if he’d known Linda had children. What does that mean, exactly? Would knowing that send him spiraling into a guilt trip, maybe cause him to make mistakes? Or would it send him into hiding, making it harder to find him? Or worse, up his game?”
“Your mind is a wicked thing, Taylor.”
There was admiration in Nate’s voice, which she soaked up like sunshine on a winter day. “How so?”
“I read that and didn’t think anything of it. So, he would have chosen someone else if he’d known about her daughters? I didn’t question that, and I should have.”
Rothmire stared at the two of them, the hint of a smile on his face. “I’m not going to tell either one of you that you’re my best two agents. It might be true and it might not. My vote’s for releasing a statement to the media, but don’t let that sway you just because I’m your boss. Keep me informed.”
Taylor laughed as he walked away. “I guess we need to write a statement.”
“Once we do, the media’s going to connect the dots, realizing we have a serial killer on our hands.
” Nate scooted his chair back to his desk, close enough for her to catch his scent, which was definitely a distraction.
Why did he always have to smell so good, like pure male musk and something earthy combined with a hint of something spicy? “Yeah, but they’re going to catch on sooner or later. Probably sooner.”
“True, so we might as well control the narrative. Include all three women.” He stood, pushing his chair back under his desk. “You want to write up the release?”
“Sure. Still no on Rosie’s spaghetti dinner?”
“Still no.” His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It’s just me and Alex at Aces and Eights until Court gets back. See you in the morning?”
“I’ll be there.” It wasn’t a date, since he hadn’t been the one to invite her, but it felt kind of like a date. She tried not to be too excited about spending the day with him outside of work. As she tidied up her desk before heading over to Rosie’s, she mentally reviewed the clothes hanging in her closet that would be suitable for a day on the back of a motorcycle, smiling when she thought of the perfect outfit.
CHAPTER NINE
Whoa! Nate stopped in his tracks, his gaze traveling over Taylor. She stood next to his bike, talking to Madison and Alex. Because she hadn’t noticed him, he took the time to appreciate how sexy she looked in a pair of white jeans that hugged her hips and long legs before disappearing into a pair of mid-calf-length red boots. His eyes roamed back up her body to the red silk camisole, the length of which stopped about an inch above the waist of her low-riding jeans, showing a tantalizing hint of skin. And was that silver flash a belly ring?
He’d always thought her sexy, even in her plain blouses, loose black pants, and sensible shoes, but eff him. This Taylor was mouthwateringly hot, and his mouth was definitely watering.
She held a plastic cup containing her favorite drink, an iced mocha coffee piled high with whipped cream. Arousal stirred as he watched her suck on the straw, which sent his mind straight into the gutter. He very much feared he was going to spend an extremely uncomfortable day on his bike. And she hadn’t even touched him yet. How was he supposed to curb his desire for her when she was hugging his back, her arms around his waist and her thighs pressed against his?