by Karen Rock
“Boss said take her.”
Reese grabbed at the last of her slipping strength and smashed the back of her fist into her hostage-taker’s nose, crunching bone. She slid free of his slackening grip and stumbled forward before they made up their minds what to do with her.
She decided her own fate, damn it. Not them.
A moment later, the SUV wheeled around and gunned straight at her. Dread weighed down her buckling legs. She wouldn’t make it. Then Blake flew out of the shadows, flinging her from harm’s way at the very last minute as the SUV squealed by. Her pulse thundered at her temple, her heart a whizzing firecracker in her chest.
Blake’s arms came around her, and she pressed her face into his chest, reveling in the sensation of absolute safety. She hated how much she loved the way he felt around her, loathed how she loved the smell of his soap—clean body and the way his chin rested on the top of her head.
She took a deep breath to get more oxygen to her befuddled brain. For a moment, their eyes met, and Reese felt a jolt run from the top of her head to her heels, unlike anything she had ever experienced. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Glad I got here in time, though you were putting up one hell of a fight on your own.” He eyed her, his expression a mash-up of concern and wonder. “Didn’t know you had all those moves. More from your dojo?”
She nodded, pressed a hand to her cheek and winced. “I could teach them to you sometime.”
His fingers gently probed her face and examined her tender neck and wrists. “Any more words of wisdom before I take you home and get you in bed, ninja-dancer?” He smiled and the corners of his eyes creased, their sexy glint making her shiver inside.
Get her in bed…she liked the sound of that, maybe too much.
“G85T,” she murmured, her eyes drooping, fatigue, shock, stress shoving aside the adrenaline that’d kept her up and fighting.
“What’s that?” He gripped her tight as she sagged against him.
“The rest of the Escalade’s plate number,” she whispered, and then all went dark.
Chapter Six
“I’ve never fainted once in my entire life.” Reese struggled to unravel the suffocating cocoon of pillows and blankets enveloping her, melting her into a puddle of sweat in the stifling heat.
After an E.R. trip she barely remembered, Blake took her to bed as promised, but not nearly the way she wanted (not that she was in any condition to indulge said desires), then scavenged for every soft thing in the house to slide beneath her aching head and wrap around her sore body.
And where on earth had he found a Snuggie?! So much for Blake’s suspicion that her father was some badass criminal… Drug kingpins didn’t own blankets masquerading as outerwear—or shop on QVC—where she’d bought the same one a couple months ago.
And when she’d fantasized about Blake, alone in her bedroom, she hadn’t imagined herself swathed in a purple plaid muumuu. Not exactly her sexiest look. No wonder he kept his distance, wearing a hole in her area rug as he paced back and forth. “Did the doctor say I have a concussion?”
The tension in Blake’s face eased, and one side of his mouth kicked up. Those strangely attractive canines peeked between full lips. “Yes, and the radiology tech, the discharge nurse and a flower delivery aide who I think was just humoring you so you’d let her get on with her rounds. Oh. And that report.”
She followed his finger-point to the creased pink paper resting on the quilt. Had she been holding it? Yes. She remembered trying to read it earlier, but her eyes were acting funny along with her head. Whatever meds they’d given her dulled her pain and muddled her thoughts. “I asked you this before, didn’t I?”
Amused blue eyes met hers and C-shaped dimples dented his cheeks. “Only twelve times, but who’s counting?”
“You are, apparently.” His smile could stop traffic, she mused. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her. “And why are you still here? I mean. Thanks for being here,” she amended hastily, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but she didn’t want him hovering. “For everything. But I’m good now.”
She replayed Blake’s body shoving her out of the way. It’d saved her from the Escalade’s path while putting his own life in danger. Once again, his fearlessness, his protective instincts, his disregard for his own safety, saved the day. She liked that about him, maybe too much, considering the tempting officer was all kinds of wrong for her. “Aren’t there police outside?”
“This is personal, not official.” Their gazes locked, and he looked at her the way a woman wanted a man to, intently, appreciatively, with a heady mix of heat and tenderness. “And I’m taking care of you, whether you want me to or not,” he insisted, in full-on caveman mode.
She stopped breathing for one suspended moment. “Oh.”
“The doctor said to watch you closely for the next twenty-four hours.” He laced his fingers overhead and stretched, the move lifting his T-shirt to reveal a tantalizing strip of washboard abs. “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”
She reached to throw a pillow at him, winced when pain stabbed between her eyes, then dropped back onto the bed.
“Stay still,” Blake commanded, banter gone, all firm, officer-in-charge authority. He pressed a bag of frozen peas against her cheek. “This never should have happened,” he muttered under his breath.
She nudged his hand away. “I told you I was leaving work early, but stayed late; it’s not your fault.”
He scrubbed a hand over his thick brush of hair. “I should have walked you to your car.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“You’ve got one now,” he vowed. His hands balled at his sides and his taut body crackled with pent-up energy. “Nothing bad is happening to you again. Ever. Whoever shot your father is after you, too. Did your dad send you anything recently? A zip drive? Bank account information?”
Reese fidgeted with the locket containing the safe-deposit key. “N-no.”
Blake eyed her closely. “Someone’s after information your father possesses, and shooting him didn’t eliminate the threat. I don’t have a warrant to search his properties, but if you’d agree to let me—”
“No,” she cut him off. She wanted to scrutinize her dad’s stuff first, remove any damaging information or at least be given the opportunity to question her father before turning him over to the police. “Whatever you’re thinking, Dad’s not involved in the steroids ring.”
“What then?” he challenged.
“I-I don’t know.” She hesitated, unwilling to share the possible money laundering evidence that’d make Blake jump to all the wrong conclusions. “But he’s no drug dealer. He’d never allow it in his club.”
Blake studied her for a long minute, and she wondered at the thoughts lurking behind his shuttered expression. Her fingers massaged her throbbing temples; trying to riddle through his thoughts was only making her headache worse. What wasn’t he telling her? Unease filled her as she played back her attack. A nagging doubt arose, despite her assurances she didn’t recognize the men, that she’d spotted something significant… something important… but what?
“May I?” He pointed to the empty spot beside her. At her nod, he lay down on his side, facing her.
From the corner of her eye, she spied the dark stubble shading his square jawline, giving his dangerous face a lethal bent. A hint of his masculine scent and just a trace of aftershave curled beneath her nose. For a man who’d spent the last few hours alongside her in a crowded, antiseptic emergency room, he smelled really good.
“Tell me about the dojo that taught you how to fight.” His deep baritone rumbled inches from her sensitive ear.
A shiver trembled through her. Gooseflesh spread over her skin. “It’s more about reading energy and centering yourself so you stay in control.”
His arm unfolded across her pillow, and she scooched u
p until the reassuring heat of his skin pressed close to her shoulders. His hand came to rest lightly on the side of her head, fingers sifting gently through the ends of her hair until her scalp tingled pleasantly. Her eyelids grew heavy at the hypnotic brush of his fingers, the solid male presence of him beside her on the bed urging her to lean on him, into him, all over him.
Oh, that sounded unwise. And tempting.
It really was the most amazing thing, having absolutely no control over her physical response to him, even when she felt like she’d been hit by a bus.
“Sounds like a hell of a course.”
Reese blinked, surprised at the genuine appreciation in his voice. “I studied martial arts in other places, too, when we toured Asia.”
“With your dance troupe?”
“Right.” Outside her window, the sky shimmered, iridescent as a pearl, the sun glowing just beneath the horizon. Waking birds twittered at the dawn, lulling her already exhausted body further into sleep. Reese dragged in a steadying breath of the fresh air drifting through the screen. It’d rained at one point last night. She remembered the swish-hiss of the wipers on the way to the hospital. Or had that been on the drive home? she wondered, woozy.
The effect of the narcotics or the red-hot male in her bed?
“How long have you been on the road?” The soft caress of his fingers shifted from her hair to the side of her neck.
“Twelve years.”
“Must be hard on relationships.”
“Are you asking if I have a boyfriend?” She flipped her gaze to the ceiling and bit back a grin. Calling out the cagey detective was fun, especially when he fished for her availability status.
“And here I thought I was being smooth,” Blake admitted with a low chuckle.
A smile teased up the corners of her mouth. He could laugh at himself. What an appealing trait. She liked that quality in a man… she gave herself a mental shake. Seriously! What was happening to her? She really needed to keep up her guard around him since he was getting to her. Big time. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. No boyfriend.”
“Where’s home when you’re in the states? Dallas?”
“No. I’m opening a dance studio in New York. This is the first time I’ve been back here since Dad—” she found herself saying, before she could question the wisdom of sharing anything with Blake.
His fingers stilled. “In twelve years?”
Reese nodded stiffly.
“Huh.” She could practically feel him processing her revelation, assessing if time and distance kept her from knowing her father as well as she thought. His agile mind was as nimble as his physique. He saw too much.
Careful.
“How about you?” she asked, turning the tables before she succumbed to the strange urge to confide in this man…a man who was determined to destroy her father and his business. “Have you lived in Dallas all your life?”
“Yes.” He paused, then— “And no, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
She flicked her eyes his way and caught his smug expression. “I didn’t ask you that.”
“But you want to,” he drawled.
She couldn’t help her short bark of laughter. He was too quick by half. And damned observant. Their electric back-and-forth felt like a chess match, full of unexpected and potentially game-changing moves. And no matter how sleepy she grew, she wanted to keep playing. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, ‘Hot Cop.’ So, are you married?” She didn’t believe so, but it never hurt to double check.
“Never.”
“That sounds definite.”
“My line of work isn’t exactly family friendly.”
Interesting word… not “relationship friendly,” but “family friendly.” One implied wife, kids, dog, picket fence, the whole nine yards. The other, something less committed. Seemed like Officer Knight wasn’t a casual kind of guy.
Outside, a motorcycle zipped by in the distance with a faint, wasp-like whine. “What’s your father do?”
Blake hesitated a long moment, then said, “Texas DPS Criminal Investigations Director.”
“That doesn’t sound exactly family friendly.”
“He wore a suit. I’m wearing a thong.”
Reese carefully rolled on her side, and their noses brushed. “Right now?” she couldn’t resist asking, the question sounding suspiciously like a dare. Damn, but he brought out the devil in her.
And she also—kinda—really really wanted to know what he wore beneath those low-slung jeans. Visions of his tight, muscular ass, encased in a tiny black thong, danced behind her eyelids.
Why did she have to have such a vivid imagination?
He lifted one dark eyebrow. “Only one way to find out.”
Was that a double-dare?
She cleared her throat and swore she could feel the steam rise from her Snuggie as his words heated her body. She was pretty sure she felt every one of his 98.6 degrees invading her personal space, and he was getting nearer. He was hot and so, so close.
Topic switch. Stat.
“You said your father wore a suit. Is he retired?”
“No.” The teasing light faded from Blake’s eyes, and she swallowed down the crazy impulse to chase after it, to pull it back and erase the bleak, raw wound of his expression.
“Fatal heart attack two years ago,” he continued. “I was on the road, undercover with a biker gang. Word reached me too late. Didn’t make it to the hospital in time to say goodbye.”
Empathy swelled inside.
“I’m sorry. My mother died when I was thirteen; it never gets easier. It’s like they occupy this part of you, an empty space you always carry around, holding its door open because you never stop waiting, wishing they’ll return. You know?”
“I do.” His gaze locked with hers, pulling Reese closer. Willing her closer. But she wasn’t sure who was doing the willing. “I never stop trying to make him proud.”
“Don’t you think he’s already proud of you?”
“He will be when I join his criminal investigations unit.”
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“Yes, I do.” His chest rose with a sharp inhale. The crunch of tires rolling to a stop outside echoed through the windows. Masculine voices boomed, car doors slammed and engines rumbled, heralding the police-guard shift change. “When I bust the steroids ring, I’ll be promoted to the DPS unit.”
“I see,” Reese said slowly, understanding the stakes for Officer Knight. This wasn’t just another arrest, but a chance to prove himself to a father he hadn’t, for whatever reason, felt able to please. She could relate.
“See what?” he queried.
“Why you’re after my dad.”
A muscle jumped in Blake’s jaw. “I’m after the truth.”
“It’s not always so straightforward.”
He frowned. “You’re either right or wrong. Good or bad. There are only two sides.”
“That’s a limited view of the world.” She’d grown up in a gray world of shadow and nuance. Wrong was a level of degree, not an absolute.
“A clear one,” he insisted, then peered at her, through her. “Are you and your dad close?”
“We were.”
“And now?”
Her shoulders lifted then fell beneath her coverings. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”
Why was she blabbing to Blake? This intimate setting, his understanding eyes, the connection over their father issues, the bond formed in the parking lot…part of it, all of it, loosened her lips. But she needed to stop flapping them. He was a detective, an expert at ferreting out information, and she couldn’t forget it.
“Traveling for twelve years and living half a world apart doesn’t make a close relationship easy,” she hastily added, guarding herself, blaming the least significant reason for their es
trangement.
“You haven’t spoken to him since you left home,” he said, more statement than question. “Did you have a falling-out about something?”
She stiffened. “Am I being interrogated?”
“No. You’re in no condition.” His magnetic blue eyes searched hers. “In fact, I’ve kept you up too long. Doctor’s orders are to let you sleep and wake you every couple of hours. Close your eyes, Sleeping Beauty,” he urged, his voice husky.
“Does that mean you’ll wake me with a kiss?” Reese teased.
“Don’t tempt me.” Beneath his bantering tone, she detected a rawness, edged with the same hunger tightening inside her.
“Maybe I want to.”
Jeez, get a grip, Landon. She’d just issued a triple-dog dare, and was behaving like a sex-starved teenager. Granted, it had been a long time since she’d been with a man—a long, long time—but, still, her reaction to Blake went beyond pent-up sexual energy. Part of her response to him could be ascribed to the night’s residual adrenaline, but most of it had to do with an acute case of lust, and her growing connection with the enigmatic officer. She wanted Blake like she’d never wanted anything in her life.
Maybe, if she indulged in one innocent kiss, she’d satisfy her sharp hunger, and stop wondering if he tasted as good as he looked.
“Want to what?” His fingers sought a path along the curve of her neck to her shoulder, easing down her covers. Her spaghetti-strap romper, that had seemed respectable enough when she’d worn it to work, now gave him access to bare skin.
For long moments, she simply breathed his air, her mouth hovering lightly against his. He didn’t press her, didn’t touch her anywhere except the feather-light caress of his hand on her shoulder. Her heart pounded so loudly she couldn’t hear herself think through the noise. No. Admit it, Reese. She just wasn’t thinking at all. He relinquished her shoulder to smooth his way up her neck and cup her chin.
“Kiss you,” she whispered. The sizzling admission sat between them for only a moment before her confession ignited something explosive. Reese arched up to him, drawn to him and unwilling to pretend she wasn’t. She wanted this man badly.