by Nikki Duncan
She rolled her eyes. Wicked as her thoughts may be, resisting the urge to test the limits of the tightly leashed power humming beneath his skin wasn’t an option. She justified curiosity by telling herself she needed to know the boundaries to avoid getting burned. She needed to know the line not to cross if she hoped to guard her heart.
His grip on her arm held her so close she bumped into his back every time he hesitated. The imprint of his body remained when he moved away. The more times they brushed, the more heightened her senses became to his flesh against her own. The longer her skin took to stop tingling.
He moved toward the kitchen and dining room. Another boom of thunder shook the house. Maggie yelped and clutched his arm.
“Retract the claws.” Tension tightened his voice. “It was just thunder.”
“Right.” Stepping back, she told herself to chill out. Then again, with his suspicious mind amping up her nerves how could she?
He checked the back door before moving toward the garage. “Where’s the breaker box?”
“Far wall in the corner.” She took a deep breath and stayed close as he dragged her behind him. When he tripped over Jared’s scooter, she lurched forward and slammed into his back almost taking them both to the floor. He never released his grip as he regained his footing and kept her upright.
At the box, necessity had him freeing her so he could open the small door and flip the breakers. Light shone into the garage from the kitchen. So it had been the storm. Relief eased her fear, and made room for the irritation. Irritation caused by Harte’s reaction to the brushing touches of their skin—or rather his lack of reaction. Irritation that he’d kissed her passionately, twice, and now acted with complete disinterest.
Not a word. No indication an inferno sizzled through his veins like the one raging in hers. Aside from an earlier shiver, he gave no indications she affected him, and it pissed her off.
She was insane. She didn’t want an involvement, but neither could she ignore the way her body screamed for his. The passion when they kissed couldn’t have been imagined. Could it? Only one way to know.
Biting her tongue, she reached out to run the tip of her nail down the length of his spine. His muscles twitched. Before she reached the waist of his pants, he spun and pinned her beneath his body to the hood of his car. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging lightly into her butt, he held her close.
Not unaffected.
The evidence pressed against her hip. She wrapped her hands around his neck and angled her head to meet his eyes in the semi-darkness. His gaze smoldered.
“You’re begging for trouble, Mags.”
Probably so, but in this moment she wanted his kind of trouble. She arched, rubbed against his erection. “How so?”
Harte invaded her physical space and dominated her mind with his scent. His head swooped down and with unerring aim, his mouth covered hers. Shockwaves of pleasure and heat coursed through her body.
Her panties dampened. With a racing heart and tingling skin burning beneath his touch, she’d never been more ready. Her ears rang and the garage spun like a carnival ride. She gasped. His tongue swept inside, exploring every inch of her mouth. His tongue tangoed with her tongue. He devoured her. His touch scorched her brain, short-circuited thought and left only instinct.
He ran a hand up her side and palmed her breast. His thumb circled her nipple, hardening it more. She moaned into his mouth, wrapped a leg over his and slid it up to his hip. With her hands buried in his thick hair, she pulled him closer, molded her body to his, wished there were no clothes separating them.
So hot. She wanted to get closer.
He grabbed her thigh and rocked against her—long and hard. He tasted her mouth before he withdrew to bite her lower lip. She traced her tongue over his upper lip, grabbed his hair, pulled him back.
For once in her life she held passion in her grasp. She didn’t want to let it go.
Thunder boomed.
Harte jerked his head up.
Pointing his gun toward the overhead door as if he expected Adalia to appear, his body kept her in place. His labored breath vibrated through her and he couldn’t blame it on the sudden boom. Maggie pouted at the sudden loss of his thrilling kisses and the invasion of reality.
If they hadn’t been jarred from the moment, if he released his control for more than a brief moment here or there, she would dissolve and give him anything he wanted. In return, he’d give her the fire and passion she had long fantasized about, but in the process she feared he would take over her body and heart.
Not possible. She couldn’t risk her heart to a man who would soon walk out the door.
Chapter 6
Careful not to touch her and further incite his arousal, BD escorted Maggie to her bedroom and then hustled back to his. At the soft snick of the latch, he leaned against the door and slid to the floor with his legs stretched straight toward the bed. His shoulders dropped. His head fell between his knees.
What had he been thinking?
He should’ve been focused on the house and everyone’s safety. Instead, he let her bait him until her sultry voice had images of her naked and writhing popping into his head, driving away reason. Nothing about their situation made the possibility realistic.
Still, one touch low on his back and she hit his sweet spot. The spot that melted his knees like candle wax beneath a flame. The spot that made his stomach clench in desire. The spot no woman had discovered. His arousal had been instant. His reaction instinctive. Pinning her to the car, though, nearly forgetting everything for the sake of the promised pleasure had been a monumental mistake.
Leaving the Adalia puzzle unsolved would only put Maggie in more danger. Everyone would be better off if he stayed focused on her safety and stopping a repeat of Adalia’s previous run.
He had replayed the day of Mike's death countless times since that day. Nothing could have been done differently. Nothing could have saved Mike once Adalia had been tipped off that they were on to her. Mike Sullivan had been her retaliation.
BD pinched the bridge of his nose. Maybe the crash hadn’t been an accident. Depending on the connection to Sullivan, Adalia may have wanted to silence him. The same could be said for Maggie.
They needed to set a trap for Adalia, but to do that they needed to know what she sought. Maggie was the key. BD would find the answer, Maggie would never know the details, and he would keep his promises to a dying man. Then he’d get away from the woman who made him want to put the man in him before the cop.
Moving to his desk, BD booted up his laptop. A Google search for the few key words they had wouldn’t narrow the field much. And they needed the prison records to figure out who was helping Adalia. The warden’s email had only had a recap of the records, which wasn’t enough.
BD typed in search words dealing with keys and power. Curiosity had him adding linguist to the search list.
Results one through ten of five thousand, two hundred and fifty. “This’ll be fun.”
He changed the search parameter to include magic key and hit enter.
Results one through ten of three thousand and seventy.
“Two thousand less, assuming I’m on the right path,” he muttered. “Time wasted if I’m wrong.”
He skimmed the screen while his mind drifted back to Maggie.
For her, everyone else’s needs came first. She’d shown her steel-coated spine by standing silently while he pounded the punching bag and how she’d protected her sister and kids from the encroaching ugliness. Physical and emotional strength got her through pregnancy and single parenthood without a day of support from her husband.
You could have stopped it. You should have stopped it.
Her earlier words swam back. If he’d stopped Adalia, she wouldn’t have been widowed. That truth was on him. Yeah, he’d missed something the first time around. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Thinking about how things might have been was as effective as a shower curtain on a cellar in a torna
do. Only focus and hard work would solve the case, and again the answers may rest, possibly to his demise, with Maggie Sullivan. He opened a new document, began listing what he knew, what he’d observed about her.
Obsessive compulsive. She cleaned things someone else had just done, the food in the pantry was sorted by type and then size, and she stocked condoms in the guest bedroom, now his room. She had an eye for details, though at times too much.
She met chaos with a cool head. Mostly. How far could she be pushed?
Adalia’s note had said the cops had gotten in the middle. Meaning him and Craig and the day they’d caught her. It seemed a logical leap that if Mike was the professor Adalia referred to he’d been working on something before his death. As a linguist, it could have been a translation. But what sort of translation was worth killing over?
There had to be answers in the house. Where could a man hide something from Maggie?
Hoping she would stay in her room, BD shut down his computer and went to walk the house. Sitting still for too long unnerved him, so he did what he’d seen Maggie do each night he’d watched her house. He double-checked every door and window lock and made sure the blinds were closed.
On a pass through the living room he rearranged the pillows on the couch. Grinning, he shifted the magazines on the coffee table from the left corner to the right and fanned them out. He wanted to see how long it took her to put things back to her way. How OCD is she?
Taking up post at the front window, watching the street through barely slatted blinds, he tried to think of an angle he was missing. Focus evaded him.
Her soft fragrance of vanilla and roses floated up and tickled his nose. His blood surged faster. His body remembered the feel of her beneath him. He’d been so close to losing himself in her. So close to taking everything she offered.
Refusing to think about why her scent lingered in his mind, BD stared out at the darkened street. Adalia knew he was there, waiting, which would make setting a trap more challenging. It was worth it though to keep a closer eye on things. On Maggie.
The vanilla scent grew stronger. He gripped the bridge of his nose, but too late to avoid the aromatic induced awakening. The drawback to being inside rested in his attraction to her—in her ability to distract him by simply existing.
Kissing her in the garage had been bad. Pinning her underneath him… His system fired up again at the memory of her soft curves pressing into him, her leg hooked on his hip, her hands clutching at him. He wouldn’t repeat the lapse, but neither would he forget the pleasure he’d felt with her in his arms.
“Anything exciting happening?” The huskily whispered words had his heart double timing.
“F—!” He spun around to face Maggie. No wonder he’d smelled her. “Where’d you come from?”
“My bed.” She leaned against the wall on the other side of the window. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders in thick waves that almost reached her waist.
“What are you doing out here?” He fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. To keep from discovering how her hair felt in his hands. Didn’t she know how distracting she was? Or was that why she’d come back out?
“I don’t sleep much. I heard you moving around.”
“A warning would’ve been nice.” He tapped his fingers against his leg to keep from reaching out for her. Somewhere in the world was a man who would one day be able to kiss her whenever he wanted. He’d know nothing bad would happen if he got lost in her. BD wasn’t that man.
“I could say the same.”
“Sorry?”
“Earlier. I knew you would be keeping an eye on things, but it would’ve been nice to know you intended to prowl the house every night with a loaded weapon.”
Her hushed voice in the darkened house filled his mind with images of her wrapped around him. He gave himself a mental slap. “Useless if it isn’t loaded.”
“Are you going to slink around in the middle of the night every night until she’s caught?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
And no matter how much he admired Maggie, from the tip of her head to the bottom of her killer legs capable of landing lethal spinning kicks, BD wouldn’t admit to anything else. Why he was really here, or how he wanted everything and everyone to disappear so he could have her to himself, would remain his secrets.
“I’m good at puzzles. I might be able to help you figure out what she wants.”
“No.” His suspicions couldn’t touch her.
“Fine. Go back to watching the empty street.” Dismissal or maybe disappointment dripped from her tone but she didn’t turn away.
“Mags, I promised to keep you safe.” He brushed her hair off her shoulder. Sparks of arousal shot through him. “I’m trying to keep it.”
“You can’t protect me from the mental torments Adalia keeps springing on me. The iPod was one of the worst.”
“I can imagine and I’m sorry about that.” He cocked his head to the side. A new thought occurring to him. “You saw Adalia’s silhouette?”
“Yes.”
“And the person driving Mike’s car that day?”
“Was a man.” Maggie’s chin jutted out slightly. Her back stiffened. “She has a partner?”
“Seems so.” Whoever was helping her didn’t stop at getting her out of prison. He’d also gotten his hands on a car that was supposed to be destroyed and fixed it up enough to torment her.
Adalia had known Mike’s car would screw with Maggie, but not as much as a personal gift or the knowledge there were two people possibly after her. He could think of no way to ease her mind. “Listen, why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
“Can’t. Every sound makes me jump. If I close my eyes now…” She walked to the couch and sat, clutching a pillow to her stomach. She’d already fixed the pillows and magazines. “Sleep isn’t going to happen for me.”
BD knelt in front of her and captured her gaze. “Do you trust me to watch the house? To keep you and the kids safe?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation, just a blind faith he wasn’t sure he deserved. He’d be damned if he let her down. “Then try to get some sleep.”
Reaching for the other throw pillows on the couch, he piled them up. “Lie here. Read if it’ll help, but try not to dwell on what you can’t control.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together with worry and fear. “Whatever Adalia’s after, I’m catching the brunt of her torments. Am I supposed to ignore that? To feel nothing?”
He felt the impact of Adalia’s manipulations through Maggie. The urge to tell her everything in hopes of erasing her fear surged up. Her knowing wouldn’t make things easier on her. Stopping Adalia would.
“If you could, I wouldn’t like you so much. It would mean you’re hard.” He picked Maggie’s feet up off the floor and raised them to the sofa, half-forcing her to lie down. “She isn’t going to hurt you.”
When she settled into the cushions, he pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa over her and prepared himself for a sleepless night. If it meant he went without sleep for days or weeks, Adalia would see the backside of bars again.
Hell would become a new polar cap before he let anything else happen to Maggie and her kids.
Maggie half expected it when she’d told him she was taking the kids to her parents. It was logical, but Harte’s actions—his approach—crossed a line. She pulled into the garage and parked beside his shiny black Audi sedan. The unfamiliar, violent desire to bust something on it surprised her. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself to stay calm and in control.
She’d been looking forward to a few hours away from drama, stress and dark thoughts. Harte robbed her of that. With his name sounding like a curse in her head, she got out of the Tahoe and headed into the house. Calm. Control.
“Yep. Thanks.” He slid his cell phone into his pocket and closed the refrigerator door as she stepped inside. He waved with a bottle of water in his hand. “How was the farm?”
As
if he didn’t know. She went to the refrigerator and pulled out a water bottle. “I want an explanation.”
“What?”
She slowly closed the door and turned back to face him. Sharing a house made avoiding certain intimacies and daily rituals impossible. Common courtesy still mattered. “Living with you, your caveman attitude and secrets is one thing. You feeling entitled to set one of your lackeys on me for surveillance is another.”
“I’m not… What are you talking about?”
Ignorance did not suit him. He couldn’t pull it off. Swallowing a drink, she let the cool water lower her temperature. Loosening her grip on her emotional control would only lead to the disintegration of her physical control, which was not a viable option. She just might give in to the earlier urge to bust up his car.
“I’m talking about me being followed to my family’s farm?”
“What?” His eyes widened. “Someone followed you?”
No way did she buy his shock was genuine. “A gorgeous man, looking remarkably like Officer McClain, in a mostly restored fifty-seven Oldsmobile Cutlass tailed me all day. I thought about pulling over and asking him out if he pulled up behind me. He is, after all, erotic romance novel hot.”
“You wouldn’t have.” He spat the retort as if it were an angry dare.
She shrugged.
“If you ever pull a stunt like that I will cuff you to the nearest bed.”
“Then McClain would know where to find me.”
His cobalt eyes frosted. His face set into a granite hard stare. “Neither of you would find the experience as pleasurable as something you might read in those novels of yours.”
Hmm. He was jealous. And not as closed off as she’d thought. “So, you don’t deny you had me followed.”
He took a drink and met her gaze. “What makes you think he was following you?”
Maggie raised her pinkie finger. “I’ve met McClain. I noticed the car at the edge of the housing division and remember thinking with a little more money, maybe a new paint job and some shinier rims, it would be a sweet ride and worth considerable money.”