by Nikki Duncan
Even half-reclining on the end of his bed, with her legs straddling his in a potentially sexual position, she jutted her stubborn chin out in defiance. Yeah, she’d recovered from her meltdown and she was sticking to her guns.
Irresistible.
“Damn it, speak.” The bark of her command busted the first snap on his control.
His blood raged. BD swooped down. She jerked her head backward an inch. Bracing his arms on the bed at the sides of her hips, he lowered himself until his nose brushed hers, leaving her no option but to lay all the way back if she wanted to avoid touching him.
She dropped flat. He grinned.
“Believe me.” Straining against the invisible leash holding his temper and desire in check, the words ground from between clenched teeth. “You want some of the favors I’m granting.”
“No!”
If she’d intended to say anything else he didn’t care. He captured her luscious, protesting mouth and poured every ounce of anger and aggression and passion swirling in his veins into the kiss. Restraining himself from doing more, knowing possessing her would only make matters worse, he maintained the minimal distance between their bodies. Still, he angled his head and explored her open mouth.
She tasted like the honey he’d imagined earlier when she faced him in her red lace bra. Under the sweetness was a hint of spice. The same spice he’d tasted every other time he’d kissed her. If he continued, her body would heat up. She’d be moaning, and he would take her all the way with him.
Jerking away from the temptation threatening his sanity, he left her sprawled on his bed, and stalked to the window to look through the narrowly cracked blinds.
“Harte—”
Knowing if he looked at her he would see flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, he kept his back to the room. “Don’t push me, Mags. You aren’t ready for the consequences.”
“You—”
“Here’s the deal.” Spinning to face her, he found her sitting with her back ramrod straight. Regal as royalty, she stood and braced her hands at the indention of her waist. Her slender fingers, gifted with the ability to incite fires in his body, tapped her pelvis.
He slid his gaze down her sexy, toned legs to her red toenails—God what was it with her and that color—and slowly back up. The fire in her eyes warned him to keep a safe distance between them. She looked violent, aroused and he’d seen what she could do with those lethal legs and a well-placed kick.
Collecting what little control he still possessed, he walked over and leaned against the desk. She wanted to know things? So did he.
“Adalia takes grotesque pleasure in tormenting her victims.” He may be a bastard, but she’d asked for it. “She’s been in your home twice. Whoever is helping her has the resources of the Dallas Police at his disposal and, unless I’m wrong, he’s watching you when she isn’t. You can tell yourself this is all because of me, but reality is different. And Adalia is only giving you a small taste of the tricks in her arsenal.
“Brace yourself, sugar,” he plundered ahead. This was where it would get dicey. “Things are about to change.”
“Excuse me?” She stalked toward him.
“You heard me.” He mirrored her moves until they were in the middle of the floor.
Toe-to-toe.
Nose-to-nose.
Aggression-to-aggression.
“We are dealing with a woman capable of doing things most men wouldn’t dream of. If she hadn’t passed psychiatric tests I’d argue she’s not entirely sane. Either way, things are changing. Now.”
Her eyes widened and she pursed her mouth, obviously thinking of her next move. In this, he was focused. Nothing would derail him.
“By ‘things’ you think you’re going to boss me around and I’m going to blindly follow?”
“I know you will do certain things my way.” He raised a brow daring her to argue. “Others are open to minor negotiations.”
“Hah!”
“Scoff all you want.” Reveling in the odd sensation of being in complete, cool control of himself for the first time since stepping into her house, BD eased his chest down until he brushed against hers. “I’m serious.”
A droning silence passed with them staring each other down, neither willing to back down. She played this game with her kid. BD played it with killers.
“Tell me what you think is going to happen.”
He grinned. He would’ve won in the end, but at least this way maybe it could be handled with less arguing. “For starters, we will be sleeping in the same room until this is done. Yours or mine, it’s your pick, but we will be sharing a room.”
“I will not!” Shaking her head, she backed away.
He snaked a hand out, grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Pinning her body to his, he shook his head. “This is not one of the negotiable points. Until this is over you don’t leave my sight.”
“I’d like to see you try to enforce that.”
In a blink, BD picked her up and sent her flying through the air. She landed on the mattress with an inelegant grunt. She didn’t even bounce and he was on top of her. He pressed his body against hers, inch for inch, and made himself deadweight.
She grunted, wiggled, pushed at his sides, wiggled again. Then she pounded on his back. Jockeying for a more comfortable position, and safer should she start in with her knees, he wedged his knees between hers.
Using her new freedom, she lifted her legs and kicked him wherever her feet could reach. His cock hardened, begging for a role in the fight. Calling himself a bastard for the immense pleasure and arousal he got out of the situation, he nuzzled into her neck.
The scent of vanilla and roses clung to her skin and hair from her bath. Lowering his lids so they were barely open, he inhaled, drew her essence inside himself. It only enhanced his discomfort—physical and emotional. She tangled him up, made him want things he’d given up on.
He couldn’t give in to the temptation. This was a war for her life.
He slid his hands up her legs and over her hips. The tight shorts left little to the imagination, but the absence of a panty line had him wondering again if she wore a thong or nothing at all.
She continued to writhe and kick and when none of that budged him, she wrapped her fantastic legs around his waist and bucked her hips. Despite the razor of pleasure shooting up his spine and filling his gut, he laughed against her ear.
“You can fight all night, Mags. You’re not getting out of this arrangement.”
“Jerk.” She didn’t need to yell for him to feel her vehemence.
“I know.” To prove his point, he nipped at her ear.
“You can’t force me to sleep with you.” That she turned his statement about sharing a room into them sharing a bed was proof she wanted him. He wasn’t going to argue the point.
Slipping his hands beneath her, he cupped her backside and pulled her against him, making it clear what else he’d like to do tonight. He traced the crown of her ear with his tongue. “One way or the other.”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
The soft, sensual Maggie had a spine of steel, but there were limits to her resolve. He would take advantage of them if need be. And hope he survived.
“You can’t resist me forever.” Pressing his hips into hers, cursing the layers of clothes separating them, he waited until she huffed out a breath and stopped squirming. “But perhaps you’ll want option number two.”
“Doubtful.”
He raised his head enough to meet her gaze. Golden sparks of passion and anger flashed in her brown depths. Magnificent.
“I’ve already seen most of the delights you have to offer.” Torn between rage and unmistaken ardor, she turned his body into an inferno. Lifting a brow, he reached for the hem of her tank top and inched the fabric up almost daring her not to protest. “Want me to see the rest? ’Cause I’m game.”
“Get off me.” She bucked against him once more.
“Not yet.”
She s
creamed at the top of her lungs and hit and kicked him with everything she had. He got close to her ear again.
“Hit, kick, scream,” he whispered. She heard him despite her screams. “You feel what you’re doing to me. We both know you aren’t afraid.”
Her body went instantly limp.
“Mags.” BD watched a lone tear trip down her cheek and felt like a slug, but it didn’t change what he needed to do. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t ask me to do. Sexually, anyway. Got it?”
She nodded and steadily met his gaze.
“You want to hear the other option?”
She swallowed and nodded again.
“I thought you might.” Watching for signs of violence, he sat up between her legs and reached into his pocket.
She pushed up to her elbows, her legs still stretched along either side of him. “What’s that?”
“A full night’s sleep in a pill.” At least for one of us.
“You’re going to drug me?”
He shook his head. As much as he’d like to force her to take the pill, for his own peace of mind, he had to let it be her choice. “It’s your prescription. I found it in the kitchen. Very mild, but under the circumstances, I think you could use a full eight hours.”
“I don’t like taking them. They leave me feeling loopy in the morning. What’s my other option?”
“You can have an extremely restless night knowing I’m inches away from you.” He invaded her space again to make sure she got the point. “Aroused… Ready.”
She scrambled back and knelt on the edge of the bed. He fully expected her to tell him where to shove the sleeping pill and his plans for the night’s arrangements.
“I’ll take the pill.” She held her hand out, palm up. “And I’m sleeping in my bedroom.”
He placed the pill in her palm, but grabbed her hand tight when she started to pull back. Her eyes flared. “You can trust me, Mags.”
“You, yes. What you make me want, no.”
Chapter 9
BD watched Maggie sleep from the chair in the corner. At least half an hour had passed with him telling himself he was making sure she wasn’t going to wake. In reality, he wanted to study her when she wasn’t cleaning or cooking or dealing with the kids or working at her computer. The woman went constantly.
She’d pulled a pillow against her chest and curled into it, snugging it against her supple curves so sweetly he imagined himself as the pillow. Her mouth smiled gently and her scent floated through the room. More than when he’d held her a year earlier, more than when he’d held her before taking her to the bath, she was completely vulnerable.
He craved the privilege to curl beside her, to hold her, to make her his. But she was taboo.
She stretched in an unconscious search for more comfort. The pill had done its job and pulled her into a deep sleep, yet her quiet breaths sending her luscious breasts up and down gave him little hope for a mental disconnect.
She represented everything he had wanted from life. He should have traded places with Craig. Instead he’d kept his decision to himself, stayed and struggled to remember his stance on relationships. Everything about this woman screamed “commit”.
She was everything he thirsted and hungered for. And everything he avoided.
Closing his laptop, he rose and walked to the bed to pull the blanket over her. Her hand jerked on the pillow. Wondering if the sleeping pill was wearing off, BD watched her closely. Her eyes twitched rapidly beneath closed lids.
She stiffened and shook her head. “No! He… I…”
Pain and sadness darkened her voice, tugged at the corner of his heart he needed to guard. The shackles shook and his desire to be a man not a cop surged forth—the way it always did with her.
BD brushed a hand along her arm to offer comfort as much as to satisfy his need to touch. She sighed. Her body melted into the mattress.
“Mmm, you’re back.” Her voice went from frantic to happy in seconds.
Back? Seeing his hand against her skin, tasting the temptation to bulldoze boundaries, he pulled away. As much as he wanted to know the pleasure of her touch, he would not risk his focus and her safety.
Keeping a close watch, he backed toward the door. Maggie slept on peacefully, secure in her home which was typically full of love and people who mattered. Momentarily weak in the knees, he leaned against the doorframe and struggled to catch his breath.
Closing the bedroom door behind him, locking away his emotions, BD forced his mind into work mode and mentally shifted through the hints Adalia had left. Somewhere in Maggie’s life and Adalia’s notes were answers. Now, with Maggie asleep, he would search everything in the house until he found it.
Walking past the pictures of her family covering the hallway walls, which made it obvious how comfortable and happy they’d been, he admitted to himself how solidly she and her kids had wrapped him around their fingers in a matter of days. Emma with her blue eyes and innocence. Jared with his wounded spirit and eager mind. The kids belonged to the man in a photo sitting close to Maggie on a wooden bench beneath a huge tree, but BD missed them. Cared for them. Hell, he loved them.
He was living in Maggie’s home, but would never be hers. They’d captivated him without his awareness. If she knew what he suspected, she would kick him to the curb harder than she kicked her punching bag. Searching her home was a betrayal of her trust, and she’d made it clear how she felt on that subject, but he had no choice. He needed to know her husband’s level of involvement.
Stopping in the kitchen, he set a pot of coffee to brew in hopes it would burn away a few cobwebs. He’d searched the cupboards and undersides of the drawers while she’d taken the kids to her parents.
If Mike had hidden the papers in the house, he’d have picked an easily accessible, secure and unexpected spot. Coffee cup in hand, BD checked the picture frames on the hallway walls before he searched the hutch and underside of the dining room table and checked inside planters to make sure they held nothing but plants. In the living room, he flipped the couch and chairs over and felt along the undersides and the back of the entertainment center. He unzipped cushion covers and checked inside the sofa lining.
The search would go faster if he didn’t take the time to put things back precisely as he’d found them. Well, most everything. He left her knick-knacks and throw pillows slightly askew.
Coming up empty handed in yet another room, he headed for the office. He and Craig had been looking for something left behind by Adalia when they searched it. Now, he searched the files more thoroughly and looked between the pages of every book on the shelves for hidden papers. Or anything Mike might have left behind.
Finding nothing, he moved to the computer. The rising sun was beginning to peek through the closed blinds. Time was running out before Maggie would wake.
Settled at her desk, BD turned on the computer and fished through the desk drawers again.
Looking at a picture of Jared and his dad on the same bench as several other pictures, he wondered if it had been taken at the farm. It was obviously a favorite spot for them.
Turning his attention to the quietly humming computer, he browsed through her documents and folders. The woman had file folders within file folders within file folders. Under Ancestry, there were two folders. Sullivan and Malone. Double clicking on Sullivan he found a folder for Phil, Betty and Mike.
He double clicked Mike and found more folders. Anything he could want to know about Mike seemed to be there: Birth, Dreams, Health, Friends, Goals, Growth, Hobbies, Jobs, School, Sports, Studies.
He double clicked jobs. The twenty-two inch screen filled with more folders. “Good grief.”
Scrolling through them, he found one Word document not in a file: Simon Says. Simon Hodges had been one of Adalia’s victims. Raising his eyebrows, BD double clicked the icon to open the document.
Simon claims that while he is unsure of their origin, the scrolls are three-thousand years old. I am unsure of how they came to
him, but am intrigued and excited to delve into the Hyperborean language as it’s one I’ve seen only once before.
Update: I have only begun translating the Hyperborean scrolls onto paper. I don’t know what these people discovered, but what I’ve garnered so far is worrisome. I tried to consult with Simon. His curiosity seems to have been replaced by hesitancy and fear.
Update: Simon has been killed. I cannot help but wonder if it was because of the scrolls. I also wonder if I am now in danger. I have been contacted by a woman claiming to be a student interested in ancient languages, specifically Hyperboreans. I will meet with her, but am suspicious about the timing of her contact. It is too coincidental.
Before our meeting, I will put the scrolls where security is as commonplace as peace. Should Simon’s death be related to the papers, should I meet a similar end, I will see that Maggie and Jared are safe.
BD checked the document’s history to get a timeline for the updates and tried to place where he’d heard of the Hyperboreans. The memory eluded him, so he focused on facts.
Simon’s murder was one week after he’d given Mike the scrolls, not papers apparently. Mike’s mention of the pending appointment had been another week later—the day before his death. Whatever he’d learned at that meeting, whatever he had found that had motivated him to report Adalia, would remain a mystery. The notes did absolve him of any shady connections to Adalia.
“What are you doing?”
BD jumped, smacked his knee on the corner of the desk. Swallowing an insane lump of guilt, and struggling to think past his slamming heart, he closed the file and turned to face Maggie. Damn. The word drawled long and dramatic in his head.
Like the night before, she stood in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Her breasts swelled up over the top of her tank. Her hair was mussed from sleep, but her eyes were sharp and snapping with anger. So much for the drugs making her fuzzy the next morning.