by Jory Strong
And again, not happening. “Who is she?”
“Myra Thompson. She’s a second-year law student. She and Avery started hanging out a couple of months ago, before the jewelry, the cash, the car.”
“So she might have hooked Avery up with the unseen boyfriend, if he exists, or gotten her involved in something else that connects back to Leopoldo’s Gym.”
“I’ll know more when I get closer to Myra, but yes. I think she hooked Avery in the same way she was hooked. A year ago Myra was working a couple of part-time jobs and applying for student loans. That’s according to a classmate I was able to strike up a conversation with. My money is on them being pulled in and run by an escort service, though the connection to the gym makes more sense if there is a boyfriend, or a client with a reason to send her there.”
“Has Braden made a play for Myra?”
“I didn’t ask him to. If Myra hooked Avery, then she’ll try to hook me once I get close enough where telling her I’m drowning in school debt and afraid I’m going to lose an important scholarship won’t raise any red flags.”
A muscle jumped in Mace’s cheek. He ground his teeth to keep from making the first half-dozen responses. Only dared to say anything once he was sure he had his voice and his feelings under wraps. “That’s assuming she doesn’t check you out before making the pitch, or turn your name over to whoever is running her.”
Grace shrugged. She fucking shrugged like she wasn’t worried, like she wasn’t afraid the kind of people who might form the connection between a couple of law students and Leopoldo’s Gym weren’t the type who left corpses in the streets of Mexico with their hands and heads cut off.
“Grace—” He heard the growl in his voice, hadn’t realized until this moment just how easily her name lent itself to that sound.
She partially turned, put her hand on his thigh. His eyes narrowed. She was going to get more than she bargained for if that hand moved toward his dick and she tried fighting one kind of fire with another.
“Mace, reading people is one of my strengths as a detective. You’re going to have to trust me to know what I’m doing when I make contact with Myra.”
Fuck no. Not happening.
The hand left his thigh. He snatched it back.
She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t respond to him either.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
If he tried to redeem himself by saying he did trust her, that’d sound like he was fine with her essentially going undercover. If he tried to lay down the law—
He wasn’t doing that, not without Cade.
Correction. That’s Cade’s job. I’m just here for the assist.
“It’s time I took over watching Avery,” she said.
She sounded totally reasonable, but she was suddenly wearing her poker face and that was like a punch through his chest so a fist could encircle his heart and squeeze.
He’d hurt her.
Fuck. And here was a reason for not getting involved. This was complication.
He hurts her—and fuck if he knew what’d he’d even done—and she transfers a piece of the hurt to Cade—who comes back at him because of it—
And at the moment that didn’t mean shit against his need to undo whatever it was he’d done.
He moved to cup her head and draw her to him. Ended up with a silky handful of hair when she angled away from him.
You do not want to fucking fight me, Grace. I won’t fight fair.
The grip in her hair kept her from evading his mouth. He pressed his lips to the soft skin near her ear. He sucked, released, moved to her lobe and did the same, felt a slight tremor go through her.
“Cut me some slack, baby. I care about you. I hate the thought of your being in a dangerous situation. Is that such a crime?”
He brushed his lips across her ear, fucked his tongue into it. He cupped her breast, pressed and rubbed the hardened nipple through her shirt and bra.
Pleasure pulsed through Grace, all of it heading downward to her sex. She knew what he was doing, should have expected this would be Mace’s way of ending an argument, of winning it, even when they weren’t openly engaged in a fight.
Two could play this game. And she didn’t want to fight with him. She wanted some space to process everything that had happened since answering her door and inviting Cade in.
She turned her face toward Mace, her lips sliding across his cheek, seeking his mouth.
“It’s not a crime,” she said, allowing for the possibility that she’d misread him when she’d asked him to trust her to know what she was doing when she made contact with Myra. Being worried about her wasn’t the same as believing she wasn’t capable.
She opened her mouth beneath the pressure of his. Her tongue touched his. Slid and twined, the first thorough make-up kiss leading to a second, a third, a fourth, all of them leaving her feeling better, so much better—but no less resolved.
“It’s still time I took over watching Avery,” she said against Mace’s mouth. “This is my case, not Cade’s. Not yours, though I know you both want to help.”
The hand in her hair collared her neck, and that didn’t fail to send a flutter through her stomach. His eyes searched hers. “Okay,” he said.
It was more truce flag than heartfelt agreement.
That worked for her.
She waited until they were outside before holding out her hand and saying, “Give me the key to Cade’s car.”
He laughed, and damn her heart if it didn’t speed and swell.
“Do I look like I have a death wish?” he asked.
“Then give me the key to your car and you can drive his.”
Taking both cars was the only way she could ensure she’d get her own back, and a little bit of separation with it.
Some of the hard returned to Mace’s face. “What’s going on here, Grace?”
She went with the truth. “Being with you and Cade is pretty intense. And distracting. I need some time alone.”
He didn’t want to give her that alone time. It was there in the firming of his lips and she couldn’t deny that she felt a little thrill because of it. And also a little relieved when he dug in his pocket and extracted a key ring.
He removed a key, handing it to her. “I’ll take Cade’s Boxster. One scratch, one ding to the Roadster and I own you for a month.”
She laughed and moved into him. This was so, so foolish, but she couldn’t seem to care.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed the front of her body to his. “Are you actually trying to cause an accident?”
He kissed her long and hard. Said, “Drive carefully, and don’t expect me to let you out of my sight.”
She suspected that might extend beyond the point where she exchanged his car for hers. She could live with that, for now.
The Roadster was an amazing drive. She was almost sorry to reach Avery’s apartment building, though not sorry in the least when the only parking place anywhere close was four blocks away—that fit in neatly with her plan to gain some breathing room.
She snagged the spot. Wasn’t surprised when Mace stopped alongside her and the passenger window slid down.
Heat rolled through her at being close enough for a good look at Mace after being separated by traffic. No man should be that devastatingly handsome—and know it.
His eyes were hidden beneath dark shades but his smile said he’d noticed her reaction.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said.
“Too late. If it helps you deal, you go to my head. Wait here while I find a spot, okay?”
Hard to say no when he’d melted her spine by saying she went to his head, when she had evidence to support it. “I’ll wait.”
He pulled away, circled the block once before returning on foot and immediately prowling around the car, checking for dings and scratches.
She rolled her eyes, laughed when he returned to the front of the Roadster and crowded her against it.
“Disappoin
ted you won’t own me for a month?”
A twinge went through her heart. She refused to examine it, preferring to concentrate on the feel of his lower body against hers, the nearness of his mouth as it came steadily closer, the taste of him when it arrived.
His hands roamed her back. Her traitorous body hated it when the kiss ended.
“Still want to go sit in the Beetle all by yourself?” he asked, husky-voiced, making her remember the last time they were here and together in a car.
Want to? He’d made that impossible, but need to? “Yes.”
He moved back.
She dropped the Tesla’s key into his palm.
He put it on the key ring then took her hand and started walking.
Nervousness gathered with each step. It joined the liquid need pooling in her stomach as they neared the corner that would bring them into Cade’s view.
Grace’s heart fluttered erratically. She needed to get a grip. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Mace had updated Cade on the drive over.
It wasn’t as if Cade didn’t know what was going to happen when Mace picked her up at the university. It wasn’t like this was a new situation for them.
The twinge returned, a little bit harder this time. A reminder of why she needed some time alone, to process what had happened, to keep from getting totally lost in the fantasy.
They turned the corner.
Chapter Eight
Cade was leaning against the Beetle.
Emotion gripped her. Love. Longing. Lust. Fear of loss. All of them intensifying the closer she got to him.
He pushed away from the car, ditched his shades so she could read his eyes—and she did.
He liked seeing her walking hand-in-hand with his brother.
He wanted her.
He wanted to take her with Mace.
Steps from the Beetle Mace stopped her, kissed her then released her hand, surrendering her to Cade.
“I missed you,” he said, an arm going around her waist, a warning that if she continued to be with them both, there’d be no keeping it a secret.
Instinctively she tried to pull away.
Cade’s arm tightened, preventing it. His mouth covered hers. Hot. Possessive. Demanding. Finding that chord inside her that just wanted to submit, at least when it came to this—and she did.
She softened against him. Wanted to tell herself it was just the newness of being with him, that the heat, the thrill, the craving would fade over time.
But that would be a lie. She’d been hopelessly in love with him for years, and now there was hope, that this could be something more, and that was far more dangerous.
He released her and she felt breathless, shaky enough to slide onto the Beetle’s hood and put her feet on the bumper. What was she going to do about this? About them?
Her heart could hold more than one man in it, even craved it now that she’d been with Mace and Cade. But that didn’t mean she’d lost all reason, didn’t understand the importance of reputations.
She wasn’t worried about some passer-by seeing her kissing Cade. Or even someone having glimpsed Mace’s hand-off, but going forward, especially around friends, family, the people who frequented their bars…
She wasn’t cut out for casual. She wasn’t willing to expose her private life, not for a fleeting fantasy.
Deal with it later. Deal with the case now.
“What’d you find out about the guy we saw Avery with on campus?” she asked.
Cade put his foot on the bumper next to hers. Mace tucked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans. No one would suspect the three of them were doing surveillance—not that surveillance was all that necessary given the tracker and a month-plus of reports on Avery’s movements and visitors. But it felt right to put some time into this.
“The guy’s name is Raymond Lennox,” Cade said. “He’s a law student. First-year. I dug around in his social media accounts. There were a few mentions of Avery, a few exchanges with Avery. Nothing special. Nothing suspicious.”
“So she could have just been passing off something related to a class. It might not have anything to do with prostitution or drugs.”
Cade rocked forward, pushed back using the foot on the bumper, flexing the muscles in his thigh and drawing her eyes to the bulge at the front of his jeans.
His laugh was enticingly masculine. “You’re making me forget what we’re talking about, sweetheart.”
Heat flared in her cheeks at being distracted from the case. She lifted her gaze to his face.
“So you don’t think Raymond Lennox is tied up in what Avery’s involved in.”
He shrugged. “Your read would be as good as mine.”
The easy way he said it made her smile. “Did you run across the name Myra Thompson?”
“No. Who’s she?”
Mace answered, “A second-year law student. Once struggling, now sporting bling and a lot of cash. Chances are better than good she’s the one who pulled Avery into whatever she’s involved in. Grace intends to—”
Both men tensed. Mace’s hands left his back pockets. Cade took his foot off the bumper and straightened.
Grace slid off the Beetle’s hood and turned, pulse speeding at seeing the two men approaching. One was Hispanic, built like he spent time in a gym and coming across as a guy who’d worked hard for everything he had. The other was brown-haired, clean-cut. He wore a heavy ring on his right hand, she’d bet from a prestigious university, probably somewhere that’d fostered the arrogance she read along with the pissed-off.
They moved with the confidence of men who would back up their demands with force, with guns—with badges.
Cade said, “Get in the car, Grace.”
She didn’t budge.
His hand encircled her arm. “Get in the fucking car.”
“No!” Every muscle in her body went rigid, sending him a loud and clear message she would not let him force her to retreat. “Look at them, Cade. They’re cops.”
Cade’s heart banged against his ribs. Adrenaline surged as if they’d come under fire from enemy combatants. She was right, he knew she was right, but that didn’t do a damn thing to diminish the need to force her to take cover.
The men reached them, flashed badges without introducing themselves. Their cocky attitudes swirled around him like a gritty sandstorm.
He suppressed the urge to spit. Glanced at Mace and knew his brother was fighting the urge to jerk these fuckers forward and let them meet his fists.
Cops didn’t automatically rub them the wrong way anymore, not since the stint in the Marine Corps, but before then, yeah, they’d had plenty of run-ins with the law, plenty of experience with guys like these two, whose vibe said go along or pay and pay hard.
Both men focused on Grace and it was all he could do not to force her behind him. Up close, the Hispanic rang as a guy who spent a lot of time working undercover around gangs, DEA maybe. Or Vice.
His partner—and it didn’t feel like a good mesh there—vibrated a kind of arrogance that said FBI. So probably some kind of joint operation.
The Hispanic agent said, “You need to stay away from Avery London, Miss Montgomery.”
Grace didn’t even twitch at hearing her name. She’d expected it, or years of playing poker had just made her that good at hiding tells.
Cade didn’t like the guy’s tone. Still felt an edge of violence despite where this was heading and being glad Grace was about to be done with this case.
“To shut my investigation down, I need to know how much trouble Avery is in.”
Fucker number two leaned toward her. “You don’t need to know anything except that if you keep doing what you’re doing, pressure will be brought to bear in places you don’t want that to happen.”
Grace stiffened. “I want to see your badges again.”
The fucker’s smile was a show of teeth. Cade wanted to smash his fist into them.
“Sure thing,” the guy said. “And we’d like to see your friends’ IDs.
Looks like an interesting thing you’ve got going on.” He glanced at his partner. “Don’t you think so?”
“Would have thought reputation is everything in the PI business. But what do I know?”
“Maybe somebody needs to take a closer look at Crime Tells and everyone connected to it. Who knows what other interesting things might come to light.”
Cade felt the slightest tremor go through Grace. The hand not around her arm balled into a fist and at her other side, Mace took a step forward.
“You want to be careful we don’t misconstrue your actions as threatening,” the Hispanic said, hands going to his hips in a way that revealed the shoulder holster and the 9 mil.
The other agent reached into a jacket pocket. “You still want to see the badge?” he asked Grace.
“No.”
Answering no was one of the hardest things she’d had to do in a long time.
“Didn’t think so.”
The agents exchanged glances then turned and walked away.
The churn of her emotions became more violent the farther they got. She hated bullies. She hated being coerced and threatened when cooperation would have worked just as well.
She hated knowing she’d failed on her very first solo case. And worse, she hated that her personal life had given them additional leverage, because she couldn’t gamble they’d make good on their threat and cause trouble.
Her throat burned. Her jaw ached. Her eyes stung.
She blinked away the tears. Glared at their backs.
As soon as she’d made them as law enforcement, she’d known she was going to have to back off. But if they hadn’t seen her with Cade and Mace, she’d have forced the issue with the badges. She’d have found someone up the legal food chain who was willing to give her information even if she had to sit on it for a while. She’d have—
It doesn’t matter now.
They got into a black sedan and pulled away from the curb, so confident at having achieved their objective, they didn’t bother sticking around to make sure she gave up the surveillance.