Dangerous Moves

by Karen Rock

  Don’t fuck up…

  He was an undercover cop.

  A chameleon. Dressed in gang colors, biker gear, or a thong…it all amounted to the same damn thing…getting the job done.

  He pictured the Magic Mike video clip Nash had ordered him to watch, flipped up his hoodie, dropped his chin to his chest and pushed balled hands into his jeans’ front pockets. He paused a couple of beats to build anticipation, then stalked forward, aggressive and predatory, lowering the hoodie’s zipper.

  Woooo-hoooo, the women howled.

  Yesss, others shrieked. Take it off!

  He yanked off the hood and shoved the garment down over circling shoulders to hysterical screams. Over Cherie’s shoulder, he spotted a stunning brunette dressed in a body-hugging white tank dress.

  Reese.

  His body caught fire at the naked hunger on her face. What the hell was she doing here? He’d ordered her to stay in tonight, had tucked her safely into her bed himself. Yet here she was, standing beside her red-faced Aunt Marisol, who turned and fled into the rowdy crowd.

  Did Reese know Cherie? Was there a connection between the steroid distributor and the club owner and his daughter? His suspicions about Reese rushed back, along with his relentless attraction. He glanced down at Cherie. Eyes wide, mouth open, she seemed enthralled, oblivious to everything but his swaying hips.

  Was he having the same effect on Reese?

  He damn well hoped so.

  The need to make her flush with desire, to squirm and whimper and plead for him, pounded inside.

  He ripped off the hoodie, tossed it to the floor, and gyrated to the deep, sultry beat. Their eyes locked as he grooved his shoulders back and forth. He found it impossible not to stare at her. Reese was breathtaking. Her eyes were the most intense shade of green. Her midnight hair was loose and wavy, which he found damn alluring, and her mouth…ah, man, he really needed to stop staring or he’d never get through this dance without a raging hard-on. He was already conjuring up all sorts of fantasies involving her full, luscious lips, and he was going to be in real trouble if he let his eyes wander lower.

  He clasped his hands over his swelling groin, popped his chest three times, then shaded his eyes and pretended to scan the room. Women pointed and squawked so loud his ears hurt. He stopped, crooked his finger in Cherie’s and Reese’s direction, beckoning. Damn, he wanted Reese on this dance floor. Insistent desire hammered inside him to swap places, to strip off her second-skin dress, to tease and torment her, until she writhed beneath him, panting, as wild and ready for him as he wanted. Needed. And then, when they couldn’t delay another moment, to give her multiple, mind-blowing orgasms she’d never forget.

  Reese’s lips parted and her skin flushed. His heart jackhammered in his chest. He leaned his shoulders to the left, right, then circled his torso. Extending locked hands, he executed two body rolls then thrust his now rock-hard member forward. It strained against his zipper as Reese’s heated gaze ran over him, trailing fire. He extended one arm diagonally, then the other, rolling his hips slowly as he sank low, lower, and lower still to the floor. He pumped laced fingers from left to right as he thrust.

  Cherie tipped her head back and bawled Lord have mercy while fanning her red face. A woman scuttled onto the floor and shoved green down his pants.

  He traced Reese’s heavenly shape in the air as he rose. Flexing, he popped his biceps then snapped his elbows together, imagining how hard he’d thrust inside Reese if he had her alone. In another life. Some alternate universe.

  As the crooner sang the word “promise,” Blake yanked up his tank top to expose his rippling abs, snagged the material with his teeth, and wagged a finger at a stunned Reese before ripping off the shirt. The crowd answered with a deafening roar.

  Reese fiddled with a locket dangling in the deep V of her cleavage. His mouth vacuumed itself dry as he fantasized about untying her laced bodice’s strings and burying his face between her full breasts, plumping them, suckling…

  Focus.

  He raised one fist overhead then slowly twirled to the ground where he dropped to a push-up position, head raised. A sheen of sweat illuminated Reese’s high cheekbones, and her green eyes sparked.

  He rolled his abs and groin above the floor in time with the beat. Flipping to his back, he thrust his pelvis, brought his knees together, then let them fall open as he sank back to the ground, the thunderous shrills rising with each repeated drive. Two more hits, then he leapt to his feet.

  Cherie reached out, hooked his waistband and dragged him closer. She wriggled in her chair and her explosion of hair practically crackled with excitement.

  Blake hesitated, swaying his hips, delaying the moment he had to straddle Cherie and turn his solo into a true lap dance. He only wanted Reese, and it messed with his professional training, his cover, making it impossible to pretend.

  He met Reese’s eyes and read her tortured expression as easily as if she’d spoken out loud. Something had spooked her. Bothered her. And it scared the shit out of him that he knew her feelings, knew her so well. She whirled and raced outside to the dimly lit garden.

  Damn. He couldn’t let her leave, unprotected.

  But he couldn’t jeopardize his mission and alienate Cherie either.

  The hell with it. Reese took priority.

  Just as he backed away, Dixon broke through the crowd and crouched to whisper something in Cherie’s ear. She frowned, stood, and patted Blake on the cheek.

  “Later, lover.” She stuffed a hundred-dollar bill down his jeans and clomped after Dixon.

  Had they spotted Reese and decided to grab her while they had the chance?

  Blake sprinted outside and down a rose-lined path. Where was she? Hadn’t a concussion and near-kidnapping convinced her to stick to well-lit areas? Nope. Not hell-on-wheels Reese. Her fearlessness, one of the many qualities he liked about her, also infuriated and terrified him. Impulsive actions, sloppy mistakes, had deadly consequences. Chances were the scumbags who’d attacked Reese worked with, or for, Cherie. They could be on the property, could have spied Reese when she arrived, or been tipped off about her presence by Cherie. Blake’s heart thundered as hard as a climbing locomotive.

  A chorus of crickets competed with the party’s throbbing soundtrack, making it hard for him to hear Reese’s movements. Overhead, scudding clouds blotted out the half moon. Somewhere close, water trickled. Blake pivoted, his eyes darting in every direction, his breath harsh in his throat. Had the kidnappers caught up to her? His stomach clenched like a fist. Anyone who so much as laid a finger on Reese would pay with their life.

  The shadowed shape of a cherub fountain rose to his right. A white gazebo loomed farther down the path. A figure clothed in white moved inside.

  Reese?

  He slunk through the dark, paused outside the screened-in structure and peered from behind a bush. Moonlight shone on long black hair, glimmering in the gloom.

  In a bound, he swung open the creaking door and darted inside. Reese gasped and backed up a step.

  “It’s me.” He laced his fingers behind his back to keep himself from grabbing her close and reassuring himself she was safe—would never be in danger—if he was near. And he wasn’t letting her out of his eyesight again. “Blake.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “Why’d you leave your new friend?” she snapped.

  Was she jealous?

  The thought pleased him, far too much. “Why’d you leave home? You don’t go anywhere without me. Period.”

  “You’re not my master.”

  Tension wound inside—tighter and tighter. He wanted to master and dominate her. To dictate every step of the exquisite pleasure he longed to give her. “I’m in charge; what I say goes.”

  “I’m in no danger at a wet-and-wild fortieth birthday party.”

  “Not true,” he countered.


  “What aren’t you telling me?” she shot back. “You’re keeping me in the dark.”

  God, she looked good. He watched her pace while she ranted on about personal freedom and his over-controlling ways, her light, floral perfume making his nostrils flare. In a dress showcasing her trim waist and delectable ass, she was hot as hell. Her tasty appearance had no bearing on how much he’d reveal, but it didn’t help, either.

  By attending Cherie’s party, she’d placed her life in danger—something she might do again if he continued withholding information. But he risked jeopardizing the case if she disclosed critical details when—if—her father woke.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, stalling as his brain ran through his options.

  “Aunt Marisol stopped by after you left to invite me. She and Cherie used to be doubles partners.”

  Interesting. “You don’t know Cherie?”

  “Not personally. I recognized her from the club. Seems like you’ve got quite a fan.” Again, an edge entered Reese’s voice. “And you still haven’t said why you’re here. Does it have to do with the steroids ring, or are you just having fun?”

  “I’d hardly call this a good time.” At least, not until Reese had arrived. So maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to confront her alone, he thought, as the perfume teasing his nose wafted even closer. He tracked her movements around the gazebo—this woman who was distracting the hell out of him.

  A frustrated exclamation escaped Reese as she repeated a question he’d missed. Apparently, she’d been telling him off while he’d been caught up in his own lust. “And you’re making obscure safety warnings without giving any details,” she concluded.

  Footsteps clattered on the pathway. Blake grabbed Reese’s hands and they ducked to avoid being seen through the screened-in upper half of the gazebo. He pressed a finger to her soft lips and her eyes widened.

  “When’s the pick-up?” a woman asked, stopping just outside the gazebo. Blake peered over the edge of the lower wooden wall and glimpsed the back of Cherie’s hair poof. She pressed a cell phone to her ear and stared up at her lit house, her back to them.

  “I can’t do next Friday,” she said. The click of a lighter was followed by long pause. “Of course, I love Aces Up, but I’ve got this late town council meeting for my permit to buy the building next door. They don’t let you reschedule those things.”

  Silence followed a long, breathy exhale. “Yeah. I know,” she replied to whoever was on the other end. Her supplier? Blake’s pulse stormed through his veins. White lightning. “My boys are already complaining. The sooner we get the powder to the lab the better,” she continued, answering his question.

  Bingo.

  Dixon dealt, Cherie distributed and someone at Aces Up, an Oklahoma casino, supplied. He fingered the St. Anthony medal in his pocket. If he could find a way to infiltrate the casino, he’d solve the case within a week. Two, tops.

  Which meant no more Reese.

  A strange emptiness hollowed out his chest. He’d miss her, miss the way her nose wrinkled when she teased him, miss the way her eyes danced when she thought she got the better of him, miss the feeling of connection he’d never shared with anyone else before. It was like she knew him, the person beneath the badge, the lost boy he’d searched for all his life.

  But she’d be safe once he, and the steroids ring, were out of the picture. A dance studio and a fresh start awaited her in New York. What could a detective working in a violent crimes unit offer a woman who sought a peaceful, uneventful life? Nothing but trouble.

  A stream of white smoke floated into the dark. “How about I send someone else?” Cherie insisted. Then— “Yes, I trust him,” followed by, “Fine. They’ll meet you at midnight. I’ll text you a picture.”

  “Asshole,” Cherie muttered after ending the call.

  “Enough business. Come inside,” a woman called. “It’s about to rain, and you’re missing the fun.”

  “That margarita better be for me, Marisol,” Cherie hollered back.

  Blake released his breath when her noisy heels carried her back to the party.

  “Was that Cherie?” asked Reese, rising to her feet. “It was—wasn’t it?” she insisted when he remained silent.

  Blake gritted his back teeth. How much to share? For her own safety, Reese needed to know Cherie was a threat. “Yes,” he admitted.

  “And she was talking about steroids.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which means she’s part of the drug ring.”

  “Yes.”

  Reese planted her hands on her hips. “Can you say anything else besides ‘yes’?”

  He opened his mouth to answer, but she held up a hand. “If you say ‘yes’ one more time, I won’t be responsible for what I might do. And you’ve seen me in action.”

  Despite the tense moment, a chuckle emerged. “Fine. And for the record, I can say a lot more than yes.”

  “But you won’t,” she accused.

  “I can’t.”

  “If this is linked to the club, to my father’s shooting, I deserve to know.”

  He studied the firm set of her mouth, the square jut of her chin and his resistance, his reservations, crumbled. She had a point. This was her life, and she needed to understand the threats to it. Did he dare trust Reese when she might put her loyalty to her father ahead of the case? Then again, Pete Landon wasn’t directly implicated…yet. “Cherie’s supplying Dixon, who’s dealing at the club.”

  Reese dropped to the wraparound bench. “Why—why didn’t you tell me?”

  He sat beside her. “You’re not officially part of the investigation.”

  “You don’t trust me,” she murmured, her voice sounding like a bruise.

  “In God we trust; all others, suspect,” he muttered.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I don’t know anymore,” he admitted, voicing his confusion since seeing fellow officers buying steroids. He’d delayed filing his latest report for no reason except he had doubts, for the first time, about his own squad.

  Central command reported their backup for the impound lot’s CCTV files had gone missing, further raising Blake’s unease. Only one group had access to those backup files: law enforcement. He’d had unquestioning faith in his fellow men in blue until recently, and the strange flukes unsettled him.

  He didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “I may not be”—she made air quotes—“‘official’, but someone tried to kill my father and kidnap me. I have more at stake than you do.”

  His hand shook slightly as he smoothed it over her silken hair. “I know. And if anyone tries anything like that again…”

  “What? You’ll kill them?”

  “Damn right I’ll kill them.” Anger swelled inside him at the thought of anyone hurting Reese. “This isn’t just a job for me. It’s personal, too.”

  “How?” The anger in her voice dissipated.

  He ducked his head, slid his fingers in hers and studied their twined hands.

  Be honest.

  “I don’t want anything happening to you.”

  In the sudden silence, roosting doves cooed to one another from a nearby tree. “The dance you gave Cherie,” Reese asked. “Was it all just an act?”

  “No.”

  She made a strangled noise, snatched her hands away, and whirled, her shoulders hunched.

  “I was dancing for someone else.” His words stopped her. He turned her around, forcing her to watch him as he spoke, to see the uncomfortable truth in his eyes.

  “Who?”

  He studied her for a long minute, this spirited, clever, passionate woman who got to him. Got him. “You, Reese.” He struggled to continue, his tongue paralyzed, as if it forgot what language to speak. “I’m no dancer, but if I was, I’d only want to dance for you.”

&nbs
p; “Oh,” she breathed, heat spiraling in her eyes.

  “Did you enjoy it?” He tilted her chin up with his thumb, needing to see her eyes and hear her say the words before he started tearing his clothes off and then hers.

  He was that close.

  “Yes,” she breathed, then slid a hand up his tensing thigh. “You were—are—incredible.”

  Blake’s blood pounded through his head—and through the rest of him—so damn hard he could barely make out her words. Then he bent down and kissed her, lips grazing her mouth as gently as he could manage, considering how much he ached for her.

  She leaned into him, giving him all the permission he needed. He slid his arms around her waist and intensified the kiss. She followed his lead, her tongue driving him as wild as he was driving her. Her fingers walked up his chest to curve around his neck, her warm skin smooth and soft. The scent of her surrounded him, intensified by the heat of the summer night, the heat of them.

  Blake pulled back, eyes searching hers. Then, with a low growl, he kissed her again, ardently, fervently, tangling his hands in her hair, tipping her head back with the force of his kiss, exploring every nuance of her mouth to learn what pleased her best. Soft mewling sounds escaped her. She liked her kisses chaotic and wild…a preference he was acquiring, too, despite his need for control.

  He loved her taste, sugar and cinnamon, and the feel of her soft, luscious body pressed against him. Most of all he loved the way she responded: primal, heedless, unrestrained and unbridled. Purring, she ground against his jeans-clad leg, rubbing her breasts against his bare chest so he could feel her nipples through her dress’s thin fabric. How could he resist her?

  She was hot and sweet. Her fingers flexed against his chest, nails scraping through the tight restraint he armored himself with until it weakened. Crumbled. If he didn’t stop this blistering, thoroughly arousing kiss, he’d lose his self-discipline. Holding her tight, he took a couple of deep, shaky breaths, striving to regain control.

  Starting this was a mistake. He should let go and take her home.

  Reese wasn’t a drive-thru kind of girl. She wasn’t a random hookup or a badge bunny, like some officers called their trysts. Let go and walk away, he silently commanded himself, and still didn’t move. How could he? Reese’s tongue pressed against the pulse at the base of his throat, making his heart rate accelerate. She kissed the side of his neck, then moved up to his ear, her mouth soft against his skin, her tongue driving him nuts. He tightened his hold on her.