by Anna Hackett
He shook his head.
“I’m running some searches on the company,” Brooks said. “I’ll send you through what I find.”
“Thanks, Brooks. I owe you some of that toffee you love.”
“I won’t say no. Stay safe.” The screen went black.
Blair swiveled her head. “Okay, so we find out who the hell owns BrightSea—”
There was a brisk click of heels. She heard MacKade groan.
Blair raised her head to a slick-looking woman striding through the Homicide Section toward them. She was slender, and wore a dark suit that fitted her perfectly, the snug skirt showing off her slim legs. Her dark-brown hair was pulled up in a complicated twist at the back of her head. She was carrying two steaming takeaway coffee cups.
“Luke.” Her gaze settled on him, her voice filled with warm promise.
“Allison.” MacKade’s voice was empty of everything except irritation.
The woman’s brown eyes landed on Blair and she lifted her chin. Then she looked away.
Ooh, Blair had been dismissed. She crossed her jean-clad legs, picked up her coffee, and took another sip.
The woman stopped. “Luke, did you arrest this woman?”
Blair’s eyebrows rose, and she turned to look at MacKade with wide eyes.
“No,” he bit out.
“But sometimes he wishes he could,” Blair added.
He shot her a look. “I could think of some things to do with my handcuffs.”
For a fleeting second, Blair had the far-too-tempting image of him spread out on a bed, naked, cuffed to the headboard. Hot, dirty desire hit like a shotgun blast.
She forced the image away and sniffed. “I can pick handcuff locks.”
She saw a flare of heat in his eyes before he turned back to the woman. “Allison, why are you here?”
The woman had a sour look on her face. “I had to pick up some documents for one of my cases.”
Ugh, a lawyer. Blair took another sip of coffee.
Then a soft look crossed Allison’s face. “And I miss you.”
MacKade circled his desk and dropped back into his chair. Blair had the vague impression that he was trying to put some distance between himself and the woman.
“This isn’t the time or place for personal conversations,” he said. “I’m busy.”
Ms. Lawyer tilted her head. “Then return my calls. Let’s go out for dinner again.”
God, he’d dated this woman? Blair smothered a snort behind her coffee cup.
She sensed the woman look at her again, then she once again focused on MacKade. She held up one of the cups. “I got your coffee. I know just how you like it.”
Score a point for double meaning. Blair’s gaze dropped to the coffee cup MacKade already had on his desk. “He’s got coffee, Slick.”
The woman’s head swiveled and she glared at Blair. “Luke, who is this woman?”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “Allison, I’m busy with a case.”
“The Las Vegas Slasher?”
Blair groaned. She hated the media and their dumb names. “Really? That’s the best they could come up with?”
“It is unimaginative,” MacKade said with a brief smile.
“Who are you?” Allison demanded.
MacKade stood. “She’s a consultant.”
Allison frowned. “She doesn’t look like a consultant.”
Blair snorted. “Damn. I may lose sleep knowing you think that.”
Ms. Lawyer stiffened her spine. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but Luke and I need some privacy.”
“Lady, we’re working. We’re trying to stop people from losing their lives. You don’t seem stupid, so I’m guessing you can read that he’s done with you, but you’re ignoring the signals. I suggest you turn around on those skinny heels and walk out.”
Allison’s face went red. “What did you just say to me?”
Blair sighed. “You heard me. Look, I don’t do cat fights.”
Suddenly, MacKade was at Blair’s side. He threw an arm across her chest. “Don’t antagonize her.”
Blair huffed out a breath. “I’m just sitting here.”
“I wasn’t talking to you. Allison, don’t antagonize her.”
But Allison cocked a hip, looking like she was ready to launch into a tirade.
Clements appeared, eyeing Allison like she’d smelled something bad. “Back again, Allison?”
The lawyer’s nose wrinkled. “Detective Clements.”
“I wouldn’t mess with Blair. She’s already broken someone’s nose in here today.”
Blair smiled at the female detective. “That was an accident.”
“And you also broke his arm.”
MacKade made a choked noise, and Allison’s eyes went as large as dinner plates.
“Okay, you got me, Clements,” Blair said. “That bit wasn’t an accident.”
Suddenly MacKade’s phone rang and for once, he looked happy for the distraction. He pressed it to his ear. “MacKade.”
“Got it.” He ended the call, turning to give Allison his back. “Got a call from a dealer who might have something for us. Let’s go.”
“You dated that woman?”
Luke glanced at Blair in the passenger seat of his Explorer. “Unfortunately. Although she wasn’t a bitch to me at the time.”
Blair shifted. “So, you like polished women in designer labels and heels.”
He looked at her more intently. “No. I like someone who is loyal, works hard, has values. It took me a while to discover Allison was more interested in Allison than anything else.”
“Guess your detective skills need some polish.”
Luke shook his head. Allison was the least of his problems, and had already sucked up too much of his time.
They were driving into the Arts District, not far from headquarters, where a number of higher quality pawnshops and dealers were situated.
He pulled up in front of Harrison’s Pawn. When they got out, he scanned the street, then the wide window of the shop. As he and Blair stepped inside, Harrison Gold was standing beside a glass case filled with jewelry and other valuables. He was a short man with a round belly and a wide smile. He’d owned his shop for over thirty years, and had always cooperated with the police.
“Detective MacKade.” Harrison bustled forward. “Nice to see you.”
Blair broke away, moving down another aisle of the shop. She was no doubt soaking in every detail of the place.
Luke studied Harrison. The man looked…nervous. Perspiration coated his round face. “You said someone’s been asking around about some Japanese swords?”
Harrison bobbed his head. “They’re offering lots of money to buy these swords.”
Hmm, so it wasn’t someone selling, it was someone looking to buy. “Who’s the interested buyer?”
Harrison swallowed and shook his head. “I don’t have a name. Just got rumors. Someone’s fishing.”
“How much are they willing to pay?”
“Millions.”
Luke looked over at Blair and saw her eyeing the pawn dealer. Luke refocused on Harrison, who was rubbing his fingers over a non-existent spot on the countertop. “Anything else for me?”
“Nope. No. That was it. Just saw the news on the Slasher and thought it might help.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. Luke nodded. “You have my number. Give me a call if you find out anything else. And Harrison, if these swords turn up, you call me.” As Luke headed for the door, he paused and glanced back. “And don’t touch the swords without gloves on.”
Harrison swiped a hand over his greying hair. “Ah, okay.”
Luke strode out with Blair right behind him.
“He knows more than he’s saying,” she said.
“Yeah. But he’s a pretty decent guy. I expect he’ll call me soon.”
“So, someone knows the swords were stolen and wants them.”
They walked down the street toward his SUV. “That�
��s my take.”
The attack came out of nowhere.
The lean, muscular figure was dressed all in black. He wore a mask over the bottom half of his face. Only his black eyes were visible.
He moved fast, and suddenly Luke saw sunlight glinting off metal. The man was holding a katana.
Luke cursed, diving to the side. He hit the sidewalk.
Blair ducked the swinging sword and spun away. Luke rose, drawing his handgun. But before he could fire, the man came at him with a flurry of swings. Luke leaped backward, slamming into a parked car.
The sword swung again, and fuck, Luke was pinned. Then Blair rammed into the guy. She knocked him off balance, and Luke pushed away from the car.
Blair launched into an attack.
Luke straightened, watching her fight. She fought with that power and brutal strength he’d seen before. It wasn’t pretty or practiced. This was real, life-and-death fighting.
He watched her kick the sword and it flew out of the attacker’s hand.
Luke quickly lifted his Glock and fired.
The man dived. Damn, missed. The attacker was too close to Blair, and Luke couldn’t risk firing again.
The man leaped into the air. He launched into an intricate combination of martial arts kicks. Shit, he moved so damn fast.
Blair dodged, blocked, and got in a few blows. Then the man managed to land a kick to Blair’s gut. She flew backward, slamming into a shop window.
But she instantly charged forward again. “Come on, asshole. Can’t you do better than that?”
God, she was goading him. The man let out a shout and slammed a vicious kick to her hip. She stumbled.
Shit. Luke strode closer, with no thought except to protect Blair. He watched the attacker scoop the dropped sword off the ground, lifting it high.
This time, Luke kicked the man. The man turned, swinging the sword. Luke leaned back but felt the stinging kiss of the blade above his left eye.
Then suddenly gunshots rang out.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
The bullets hit the sidewalk. The man dropped the sword, spun, and ran.
Damn.
Luke gave chase, racing down the sidewalk. But the man jerked between two parked cars and ran into the street. Cars screeched and horns blared. Luke jerked to a stop and watched the assailant disappear into an alley across the street.
Luke swiveled and saw Blair standing beside him, holding her SIG beside her thigh.
“You’re bleeding.” She strode up to him, yanking her jacket off, then her shirt.
For a second, his chest hitched, then he saw she was wearing a tank underneath. She pressed the wadded shirt above his eye.
“God, this is bleeding everywhere,” she said. “We need to get this cleaned up.”
“It isn’t bad enough for a trip to the emergency room.” He didn’t have time to sit around twiddling his thumbs. “Need to drop this sword off at headquarters.”
“It didn’t seem to have the same effect as the one from the exhibit.”
“No, but I still want it checked.” He rubbed his bloodstained shirt. “Let’s drop the sword, then I need a change of clothes anyway. We’ll head to my place.”
She paused for a second. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Chapter Five
They had a big fight over who drove.
The man was injured. Okay, it wasn’t a bad cut, but still. Blair didn’t like the fact that MacKade won.
As he drove down a tidy street lined with typical Las Vegas houses in Spring Valley, she cast a worried glance his way. He had blood all down the side of his face, and the cut over his eye was still oozing.
There was a strange feeling in Blair’s stomach. She didn’t like seeing him hurt. It was silly, because she’d seen people hurt way worse than this before. So what made this situation different?
He pulled into a driveway and cut the engine. She climbed out and paused, hand on the top of the door, studying his house. It was nice and tidy, with cream stucco and a tile roof, a double garage, and a warm-toned, wooden door. The yard was done in xeriscaping to suit the hot Las Vegas climate and reduce the need for water. She guessed it was easier maintenance for a workaholic police detective as well.
MacKade eyed her as he walked to the front door. “Don’t worry, Blair, the suburbs aren’t contagious.”
She snorted and followed him. He unlocked the front door, and she glanced around with interest. Glossy, wooden floors, pale-gray walls. There was the requisite oversized, leather couch and a huge TV. It politely said, “single man who knows what he likes.”
Then he moved into the kitchen and her eyes popped open. The place was a showpiece. The top-of-the-line, stainless steel appliances and granite looked like they’d been designed by a chef.
“You cook?” she asked.
“Not often. But I’m not too bad. People I bought the place off of had renovated the kitchen.”
Blair couldn’t boil an egg. Okay, she could, but it was likely to be rubbery. Her gaze snagged on the blood on his face. Quit gawking at his kitchen, Blair, and remember why you’re here. “First aid kit?”
“Under the sink.”
She found a huge red box—of course MacKade would be prepared and have a king-sized first aid kit—under the sink and moved toward him. “Sit.”
Shooting her a disgruntled look, he pulled out a chair from the wooden dining table and sat down. Through the large window facing the back yard, she saw the glitter of afternoon light on water.
“You have a pool?”
“Yeah. It was part of the reason why I bought the place. It’s heated too.”
The pool was large and deep-blue in color. The yard wasn’t big, and there was paving all around it with a few small trees lining the back fence. Blair loved to swim. It was her dream to one day have a house with a pool.
She set the first aid kit down on the table and popped it open. She grabbed some sterile wipes and started cleaning the blood off his face. When she got a better look at the cut, she decided it could probably do with a couple of stitches.
“Without a few stitches, this will probably scar.”
“It’s fine.”
Blair tried to imagine how she could convince him to go to the hospital, and failed. She sighed. She’d refused the hospital herself…more times than she could count.
She pulled out a bandage and carefully placed it over the cut. “There you go.”
Then Blair noticed how tense he was and she stilled. She realized she was standing between his outspread legs. Between those muscled thighs, dark denim was stretched tight. She swallowed and looked at his rugged face. She saw a little bit of dried blood at his temple and reached up and rubbed it away.
Their gazes locked.
He’d protected her today. He’d rushed in to defend her from the attacker. It had been unnecessary, of course, since she didn’t need protecting. But still, there was a part of her that liked it. She wasn’t used to being protected. Having backup, yes, protected, no.
MacKade’s hands moved, gripping her hips. “Blair.”
His deep voice shivered through her. He tugged her closer, pulling her tighter between his legs. He just kept staring at her, and she waited, fighting an internal battle.
“You going to keep ignoring this pull between us?” he said.
She sucked in a breath. It was the first time he’d stated it outright. “I was thinking about it.”
“I want you.”
God. His words shivered through her. Dammit, she wanted him, too.
“We are a really bad idea,” she said. “One, we’ll fight all the time. Two, we’ll argue all the time.”
“Fighting and arguing are the same, so that’s really one point.”
“We have a professional relationship.”
He snorted. “We’re usually facing off and yelling at each other. I wouldn’t call that very professional.”
Luke MacKade was a good man. He had a neat, tidy house, and she was sure he pictured putting a neat, t
idy woman in it one day. And having neat, tidy kids.
That was so not Blair.
And he made her feel, made her want things that frankly scared the shit out of her.
But she’d never been a woman to deny herself what she wanted. Maybe she and MacKade could twist up the sheets, burn off this tension, and walk away.
Yes. That sounded like a plan.
She lowered her head and kissed him.
His mouth opened and she slid her tongue in. Oh man, he tasted delicious. She sank her hand into his hair, tugging on the thick strands. He pulled her closer, and she felt the heat of him pumping off his big body. She loved his size—his height, the hard breadth of his shoulders.
A growl vibrated through him and he deepened the kiss. More. She needed more. Emotion stormed through her, leaving her head spinning. They kissed like they’d never get enough of each other, fingers digging in, barely coming up for air.
For a moment, Blair forgot where she was, hell, she barely remembered her own name.
What the hell was this?
She pulled back, panting. Fooling around with a guy, sex, it was supposed to be fun, easy.
“That was…” Shit, she didn’t know what it was.
“Pretty damn awesome.”
She shook her head. “You should stick to sleek lawyers, MacKade.”
The corners of his lips lifted, but she could tell that he was annoyed. “I’ve had my tongue in your mouth, Blair, so it’s about time you call me Luke.”
She just stared at him.
“I see all those tough layers of yours, Blair. I see them, and I’ve decided to cut through them and find what’s beneath.”
Her heart thudded hard. Panic slid through her veins, and she worked hard to find some scathing words. Something to make him back off.
She needed him to back off.
Blair opened her mouth, just as her phone beeped. Grateful for the interruption, she pulled it out of her pocket and saw a text from Lachlan. It said one word: Griffin’s.
“I need to meet my team.”
MacKade stood. “I’m coming.”
“That’s unnecessary. I’ll update you—”
“I’m coming.” His voice was firm and unyielding.
“Fine.” She needed to get out of his nice house, with its nice pool, and no doubt his nice bedroom with a nice, big bed. “This didn’t happen.”