by Lori Foster
Jack glanced at her. “The photos?”
“I have to salvage something.” After withdrawing her phone, she held it out, staring at the screen while trying to decide what to say. “A good offense always tramples defense, don’t you think?”
“Sounds about right to me.” He reached for her thigh to give her a squeeze. “It’s sexy when you strategize.”
“Now who’s teasing?” With her plans decided, Ronnie put in the call.
Drake answered on the second ring and before he could finish a proper hello, she jumped his ass. “We were attacked by a machete-wielding Jason-wannabe at the abandoned house where you sent us.” In one long run, she detailed it all, sharing all her outrage, going into grisly detail about the blade spiking up from the broken boards, painting a visual of a demented thug skulking beneath a rotted porch with the evilest intent. By the time she finished her hands were shaking.
Because damn it, it was all true.
Finally, when she paused to suck in necessary air, Drake whispered, “Dear God.”
“Are you all right?” Drew asked.
For once they spoke in normal voices, instead of the affected, dramatic tones.
“We both survived,” Ronnie said, “but how, I don’t know.”
Jack rolled his eyes at her. He probably wanted her to give him credit, but she wouldn’t.
“And to think,” she continued, “you guys promised this one would be easy.”
Drake, finally finding his voice again, snapped, “Call the police.”
Whoa. Holding the phone out to see it, Ronnie glanced at Jack, but he didn’t know what was said. She remedied that by putting it on speaker. “We can both hear you now, so say that again?”
“Go immediately to the police.”
Jack’s brows rose. “You’re serious?”
“Something more is going on here than a single unstable seller. Something more sinister.”
The possibility meshed with Ronnie’s uneasiness, but still... “How do you figure that?”
“It was an elderly woman who contacted us,” Drew explained. “She asked if you could meet her on her quiet street because she was retired and didn’t get out much anymore.”
Drake added, “There was no mention of an abandoned house or men. That means you were sent there on purpose. Both of you.”
As if he’d suspected all along, Jack popped his neck and squeezed the wheel. “We were set up.”
Ronnie had already suspected something amiss, but it didn’t reassure her to have a consensus on it. “I have the photos. They look genuine enough.”
“But God only knows how they were obtained. Since there was no neighbor to witness the crime, maybe the seller...” Drew paused.
“Initiated the crime,” Drake finished in an ominous whisper.
Drew gave a soft groan of distress. “You swear neither of you are hurt?”
“We were both a little rattled,” Jack said. “Near misses can have that effect. But you know Ronnie. She reacted like a pro.”
“You’re due a vacation,” Drake announced with dark, magnanimous drama.
“No.” If they put her on vacation, if she and Jack didn’t have any combined runs to make, she absolutely could not stay with him, not around the clock. And that meant she’d have to return to her apartment.
The thought sent icy dread up her spine.
“I don’t need a vacation at all.” Good. She sounded bored. “You heard Jack, we’re fine. But we agree about the cops.” Ronnie hated to distress the brothers. For all their peculiarity, they’d actually been good to her. Indulgent with her attitude, respectful of her ability. Friendly, in their own eccentric ways. “You guys know the cops will probably want to talk to you as well, right? You made the arrangements for the pickup. You talked to whoever it was who tried to sabotage us.”
“Of course,” Drew answered. “Have no fear, Ronnie. We have nothing to hide.”
Right. They had a lot to hide...unless they meant they’d stash their more ill-gotten gains?
Drake said, “We’ll meet tomorrow as planned. If the police want to speak to us, explain that we’ll be home then.”
“Well, just so you know, I’ll make copies of the photos first, in case the cops take them. I’ll keep you posted on anything else that comes up.”
In the background, Drew murmured, “Isn’t she darling?”
“Always looking out for us,” Drake agreed.
Jack shook his head.
A little embarrassed by the praise, Ronnie scrunched her nose. “Yeah, I’m a regular cream puff,” she said with sarcasm. “Gotta go, guys. Later.” She disconnected on whatever else they tried to say. Even she had started to snicker, and she couldn’t let them catch her being too soft.
“Cream puff, huh?” Jack’s hand drifted on her thigh, his thumb brushing in a way that made her hold her breath. “Sounds tasty.”
Him, tasting her? Oh, unfair! Immediately, her body warmed at the thought, wanted at the thought. She’d felt his mouth on hers, on her neck, and at her breasts.
How would it feel if he kissed her there?
Oh Lord, her body gave a quick clench in reaction to the thought, and her nipples suddenly felt far too sensitive. She’d always avoided anything other than straight-up sex. Nothing too involved. Nothing too...familiar.
Just strangers, sharing a quick screw.
Thinking it now, it sounded ridiculous. How could sex not be familiar? Probably an attitude thing. Sex for her had been about relief and respite, a way to dodge her nightmares without admitting to a weakness. A prescription that eased her ills. It had never been about any particular man, not beyond the short time it took to complete the...well, the act.
It struck her that, minutes after meeting Jack, she’d forgotten that protocol. Meeting him had somehow been as life altering as being kidnapped or kicked out of the family.
Only far more pleasant—physically and emotionally.
Every damn minute with him had been nice, even the minutes where she’d tried hard to make him retreat. With Jack, it seemed to be all forward momentum.
God, she had spent so much of her life looking back. Could she, for the first time in forever, look to the future? A different future than what she’d expected?
“You okay, honey?”
Her gaze went to his face, seeing lines of anger still carved beside his mouth, the tension around his narrowed eyes. And yet, the hand on her thigh was so gentle. Possessive, bold, but careful... The way he’d always treated her.
Now, in this moment, was a terrible time for her heart to start to crumble. She drew a steadying breath—and glanced at his lap with renewed interest. “Just thinking.”
Thinking of you going down on me. Yeah, she had little modesty, but she couldn’t put that into words. “You’ve had a lot of sex?” she asked instead.
Surprise overshadowed the residual anger, lifting his brows and softening the strain. “Where did that come from?”
She shrugged. “You’re touching me.” When she said it, his hand tightened. “Are you dodging the question?”
“I don’t know how to answer it.”
Tilting her head to study him, Ronnie saw his honest confusion. “I’ll simplify it for you. How many women have you banged?” As the seconds ticked by in silence, her irritation grew. “Need a calculator?”
“It’s not that,” he said without rancor. “First, I wouldn’t call it that.” He chastised her with a quick look. “And second... I’ve never kept count.”
“So make a guess.” Why she pressed it, she couldn’t say. But damn it, now her curiosity was so ripe, she had to know.
“Maybe twenty?”
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t know?”
“Some were more memorable than others.”
An emotion—not jealousy—clouded her vision and sh
e looked away, letting her fingertips toy with the fine stitching on the leather seat. “You do a lot with these twenty or so women?”
“A lot?” His laugh was short and rich with a flash of insight. “To save us both from awkwardness, why don’t I just say that, all experiences combined, there’s not much I haven’t done, but there’s no one I’ve ever wanted to experience it all with more than you.”
An experience, not just an act. She liked the sound of that, especially since it mirrored her recent revelations.
“Well, just so you know, I’m willing.” God, that sounded dumb. She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the heat in her face and the happiness surging through her blood. “I mean, usually I like to get right to the point, you know?”
“Yes, I’ve noticed your direct approach.”
Was that an insult? Had she disappointed him? The idea horrified her when, in the past, she hadn’t given a flip what anyone thought about it. Long as she got hers, it was up to him to get his. Not her problem.
Then she remembered Jack’s release, how...well, incredible he’d been. The heat in his dark eyes, the delineation of every muscle, how his throat worked, and the husky sounds he’d made.
Ronnie shivered.
Maybe that explained why she’d found his anger so appealing, too. Release and rage had both stripped away his polite regard, leaving only real, raw, basic male.
She cleared her throat again. “So we can try a few things?”
Jack shifted, straightening one leg and tugging at the material of his pants. His voice was gruff when he promised, “We can try anything you want, but I don’t think I can talk about it anymore. Not right now. Not if you expect me to keep us on the road.”
Ronnie felt the pull of a slow, smug smile. We can try anything... An exciting promise, prompting her to wonder about different possibilities.
Him going down on her, a definite yes.
But would she enjoy repaying him in kind?
A visual of his naked body filled her mind. He’d been bigger than she expected, lean and hard all over. Totally gorgeous.
But it hadn’t just been his physical appeal that made her one experience with him so memorable. He’d been so thorough in touching her—and while she normally would have rejected that much attention, with Jack she’d felt powerless to do anything but feel.
Damn, she wanted to feel like that again.
Into the throbbing silence, Jack asked, “Has it really only been two days since I had you?”
She answered honestly, saying, “Feels like a week.”
“At least.” He smiled, then promised, “Only a few more hours.”
This type of lust was new to her, sharper edged since she wanted Jack specifically, not anyone else. But she wasn’t a wimp. She could hold out that long, right?
First they made copies of the photos, which Jack put under a floor mat, concealing them just in case, he said. From the parking lot of the office supplier, he called the police—and was asked to come in.
They found the station without any problem. After locking her gun and both their knives in the glove box, they walked in.
The station was small and from what they were told, short on resources. A detective, probably in his fifties, large and solemn, led them to a windowless room. He pulled up two extra chairs to an old metal desk, gesturing for them both to sit.
His chair creaked as he lowered himself into it. Sitting back, he regarded the photos the cop had given him, now in a protective plastic sleeve. “Two officers are riding out to the address you gave, to see if they can find anything.”
“They’ll be long gone by now,” Jack said.
“Most likely.”
Three piles of folders littered the desktop, one dusty, the others scattered as if someone had recently gone through them. The painted cinderblock walls boasted framed photos and exposed pipes, in equal number.
Frowning, the detective put the photos aside and turned to pick up their detailed statements. He’d already skimmed them twice.
“Why,” he asked aloud, “would someone try to hurt you when you’d already left the money? If they thought you had more, why not mask up and rob you at knifepoint?”
“He’d have a broken neck if he’d tried that,” Jack said without inflection.
The detective glanced at him, made a sound, and refrained from commenting.
Ronnie wanted to smack them both. “Clearly, it wasn’t about the money.”
“Do you have enemies, Ms. Ashford?”
“None that I know of.” She briefly explained the rock that cracked her rear window, and the strange visitor to the hotel room. “Do you think they’re related?”
He shrugged a heavy shoulder. “Rocks ricochet from tires. Men try to pick up women.”
“And vice versa,” Ronnie said, staring him in the eyes.
“And vice versa,” he agreed. “So who knows? But it bears noting.” He was jotting the details onto a paper when his phone rang.
Ronnie shared a look with Jack. He was keeping it together for the cop, but tension still radiated from him. Tension, and more.
The detective spoke briefly to his caller, nodding a few times and giving short replies before hanging up. “Officer Inman said they didn’t find anything there, no thugs, no money, no table, not even a rock. Only abandoned houses.”
Figured. “So are we done?” Ronnie asked.
He regarded her. “It sounds to me like you were lured there for some other reason.” He gestured at the photos. “This was just an excuse.”
“Sounds like that to me, too,” Jack said.
“Unfortunately, in that area, it’s not uncommon. Gunshots, drug deals, prostitution, robbery.” He eyed them both. “Could be it’s random, someone using your bosses’ hobby to grab some easy cash. Could be the intent was to further rob you.” He glanced at Ronnie. “Or worse.”
The idea of worse had her throat going tight.
“In another station, this might get a ton of attention, but here...” He held up his hand. “We have more than our fair share of violent crime, without the manpower to deal with it all.”
“Well.” Ronnie smacked her hands onto her knees and started to stand. “Thanks anyway.”
His stare kept her in her seat. “Overall, I’d say you were lucky to get out without any physical harm. That’s not an area to visit, if you get my drift.”
Jack agreed, leaving Ronnie to scowl at them both.
“Without a description of the man you say attacked you, there’s not much to go on.” The detective lifted the photos. “My advice is to stop playing dangerous games.”
As Ronnie had feared, he seemed more concerned with the brothers’ hobby than with the criminal attack.
“You realize these are likely photoshopped, right?”
“I figured.” Not that it mattered. Drake and Drew had bought other fakes when they were interesting enough.
“I’ll call your bosses and arrange a meeting,” the detective continued. “We’ll see if we can lift any prints off the photos, but I wouldn’t expect much to come of it.”
At that point, they all stood. To Ronnie, the detective looked tired and that softened her annoyance over the inconvenience. She remembered the last time she’d dealt with the police. After her kidnapping, those detectives, too, had looked tired. Tired of crime, tired of senseless death, tired of not enough hands to get it all done.
In the scheme of things, an attempted foot-stabbing probably fell pretty low on the chain of priorities.
She stuck out her hand. “Thank you, Detective. We appreciate your time and I’m sorry we had to burden you with this.”
His brows lifted before he folded her hand into his. “I’m glad you came in. It’s why we’re here.” After a gentle squeeze, he accepted Jack’s hand, too.
“If you need us for anything else, we�
��ll make ourselves available,” Jack said.
“Appreciated. You both take care now.” As they left, he added, “And stay out of that area.”
By the time they arrived back at the office, the sun hung low in the sky, sending one last splash of crimson over the horizon. They only had to collect the animals and her car...and then she and Jack could be alone.
For once, as darkness blanketed the landscape, the concern of nightmares didn’t touch Ronnie. She didn’t even think about rock-throwing thugs or knife-wielding creeps hiding under porches.
Instead, thoughts of Jack filled her, body and soul. What he’d do to her, what she’d do to him, and the overwhelming, wonderful, indescribable things he made her feel.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THANK GOD ONLY Charlotte had been around when they arrived. Jack didn’t think he could take another delay. Ronnie’s curiosity, combined with the way she’d looked at him, had stoked his lust to a fever pitch.
He’d had to concentrate hard to keep from sporting wood.
Brodie, who would have recognized his predicament right off, would have detained him just for fun. His mother, who God willing would not have realized why he was in a rush, would have wanted to visit with Ronnie to make her feel more welcome.
So all in all, putting up with Charlotte’s knowing smiles wasn’t so bad—especially since she already had everything ready for him. He got both animals, along with everything they’d need in the coming week, loaded into his car in only a few minutes. He led the way out to his house, with Ronnie driving her car close behind him.
After everything that had happened, Jack would have preferred to put Howler with Ronnie as extra protection, even though she was only a car length behind him. When riled, Howler could make a professional killer turn tail and run. But Jack didn’t want to load her down with both animals, and the dog kicked up such a fuss at the idea of being separated from Peanut, howling so pitifully, it had almost sounded like a human’s wail. No one had the heart to separate them.
It was comical how such a big-boned, massive mutt wanted to mother the tiny kitten. It was also really sweet. Not for the first time, Jack said a silent prayer of gratitude that Brodie had rescued Howler from the abusive dicks who’d kept him chained in the yard. Howler was now a part of the family, and he was well loved by all.