Dangerous Desires

by Dawn Altieri

  “Making sure Adam’s ready to bring me back to my office,” she said as she typed.

  “Emma, wait.” Jake grasped her arm as she reached for the doorknob, and she turned to face him. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “This is important. You can’t tell Ben. You can’t tell anyone about any of this.”

  She studied Jake’s face, tried to decipher his meaning.

  “If you warn him we’re looking into him, you could be charged with obstruction. And if Ben really is the man who attacked you, there’s no telling what he might do once he knows we’re on to him.”

  A new wave of nausea came over her as she pulled her arm free and opened the door. “I understand. I won’t say a word.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Traffic and the constant starts and stops of Adam’s car had Emma certain she wouldn’t make it back to the office without being sick…but it wasn’t his driving making her feel that way. An odd sense of mourning had come over her. Even though she hadn’t officially become a Windsor, they were more of a family to her than she’d ever had. One by one—in one way or another—she was losing them.

  She stole a peek at Adam while he concentrated on the road ahead, stoic and professional as always as he drove to her office. She’d spent so much time under his watch, yet realized she’d hardly spoken to him, at all. “Do you have a family?” she asked.

  He spared a wide-eyed, sideward glance as if he was shocked she was actually speaking to him. “Uh, yeah. My dad passed a few years ago, but I’ve got my mom, a brother on the force in Brooklyn.”

  “No, I mean do you have your own family? Wife? Kids?”

  “Me?” He laughed. “No. Not yet. I’m only twenty-six.”

  “Hmm.” She was twenty-six. If Justin were still alive, she would’ve already been married three years. Probably with at least one baby. Would she have been ready for that? Somehow, that picture no longer made sense.

  “Soon, though,” Adam added, to her surprise. She turned to face him again, in time to witness a sweet smile come to his face. “Jake didn’t tell you?”

  Jake hadn’t told her anything about Adam, and she hadn’t asked. That was so unlike her. Maybe she had become that spoiled little rich girl he seemed to think she was, uninterested in “the help.” She’d chalk it up to the stress she’d been under.

  “Tell me what?” she asked.

  “The reason I’m doing this for him. Besides the obvious, that you’re in danger and you shouldn’t be alone.”

  She swallowed hard past the lump that had formed in her throat. Hearing someone other than Jake say it made it so much more real. “What’s the other reason?”

  “I’m saving up for a ring.” The smile stretched a little wider as he swung the steering wheel and made a turn. “She has no idea. Thinks I’m broke. Which isn’t entirely untrue, but…”

  “You have a girlfriend?”

  He turned to face her, and Emma berated herself for asking such a dumb question. Obviously, he did.

  “Yeah, going on two years now.”

  With a shake of her head, she faced forward once more. “When do you even see her, working all these hours?”

  “I squeeze her in,” he said with a smirk. “I’m just taking the work while I can. It won’t be like this forever. That’s the thing with being a cop. In the beginning it’s rough, but you put in your time, pay your dues, then take your pension and retire early. At least, that’s the plan.”

  “Sounds like a good one.”

  But it wasn’t Jake’s plan. Jake would likely be working cases until he was old and gray. If he made it that long.

  “I think I might like to do private security someday,” Adam said. “This has been a pretty cushy gig, considering.”

  Cushy. He should try it from her end for a day and see how cushy it felt. She settled back against her seat, checked her phone to see if Jake had tried to reach her after she’d all but stormed out. Nothing.

  “You guys okay?” Adam asked.

  Her mouth fell open, but she quickly forced it shut. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, sorry, I just assumed… I mean, I figured if he was willing to pay me to keep an eye on you all day, and the way he’s been acting since all this started, there had to be something between you two.”

  “Yeah, something,” she grumbled. “Exactly how has he been acting?”

  Adam tipped his head from side to side, seeming to contemplate an answer. “On edge. High-strung. Freaking pissed off all the time.” He laughed. “I forgot we’re talking about Quinn here. He’s gotta be one of the most walled-off guys on the force. I’m sure he doesn’t let you see any of it.”

  “There’s nothing going on between us,” she assured Adam. “That would be against the rules.”

  “Yeah, I guess it would.” He pulled the car to a stop around the corner of the office building and turned to her. “Hang in there. He may not say much, but he shows way more than he thinks he does. It’s there. I see it. And rules were meant to be broken, right?”

  Maybe.

  But if she knew anything about Jake, she knew he was not a rule breaker.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jake stepped out of the Tahoe in the underground parking garage and headed into the downtown headquarters of Windsor Wealth Management. He entered the crowded elevator teeming with uppity suits who hadn’t had their morning coffee, and pressed the button for the twelfth floor.

  He replayed his conversation with Emma in his head for the hundredth time. She’d been hurt, angry, confused—he understood all that. What did he expect? Once again, he was the cop who couldn’t fix things for her.

  He put it out of his mind for the time being. He had business to tend to. The doors opened to the vast lobby of Windsor Wealth Management with its gleaming marble floors and glass partitions everywhere. He’d been here several times during the Justin Windsor investigation, usually to update the family patriarch, Nate, on the lack of progress in his son’s case.

  The red-haired receptionist glanced up at him with a look of recognition on her face. He leaned against the ledge at the front of her desk. “I need to speak with Benjamin Windsor.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  He flashed his badge with such arrogance he might as well have been whipping his dick out. “Detective Quinn, NYPD.”

  She kept her gaze on him as she picked up the desk phone. “Mr. Windsor, there’s a Detective Quinn here to see you. Yes, sir.” She replaced the phone in its cradle. “He’ll be right out.”

  Jake nodded his thanks as he stepped away from the desk.

  A silver-toned WWM logo took up the entire wall over the seating area, a testament to the success of the Windsor name. Having come from a much more modest background, Jake wasn’t one to be impressed by such things. Not when the moral character of certain members of the family was as questionable as it appeared to be.

  Dressed in an expensive-looking gray suit, Ben Windsor was all business as he offered up a firm handshake while scowling down the tip of his nose. “Detective Quinn, what a pleasant surprise.” The rancor came as no shock to Jake. It wasn’t the first time a Windsor family member had looked down on him.

  Jake could be all business, too. “Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

  Windsor turned and extended his arm toward a conference room surrounded by glass walls. The antithesis of privacy. “Right this way.”

  Jake followed him into the room, waiting patiently as Windsor closed the door behind them. Jake pulled the folded paper from the pocket of his sport coat, shook it out to flatten it, and held it up for Windsor. “Look familiar?”

  Windsor stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets as he glanced at the sketch and back up to Jake. “Of course it does. It’s been all over the news. You gonna catch this guy?”

  Jake shook his head as he folded the sketch again. �
��I’m sure I don’t have to tell you we’re looking into several leads right now. Not the least of which is your resemblance to this sketch.”

  A convincing look of shock came over Windsor’s face as he let his jaw fall slack. “Seriously?”

  “Where were you two nights ago?” Jake asked.

  The shock turned to fury. “Are you fucking kidding me? I was here, preparing for an early meeting.”

  “Anyone who can corroborate that?”

  Windsor took a step toward Jake, pulling his hands from his pockets, testosterone spewing off him. The guy was built. Jake had to give him that. Jake worked out to keep in shape and stay healthy. In his line of work, he needed to be capable of a certain amount of physical exertion. Plus, he liked the way he looked. Emma had made it pretty damned clear she liked it, too, and that was good enough for him. But this guy? He was too much. Windsor stood a couple of inches shorter, but he easily had a good forty pounds on Jake. Even so, if it ever came down to it, Jake was confident he could take him.

  “I have several people who can corroborate that,” Windsor said. “I must say, Detective, I expected a bit of a pissing match, but I never expected this.”

  “A pissing match?” Jake narrowed his eyes, feigning ignorance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The hell you don’t. I’m sure Emma told you about our discussion—”

  “Discussion?” Jake matched his step forward. Jealousy, protectiveness, possessiveness—all three had consumed Jake as soon as she’d told him what Windsor had done, and they showed no signs of letting up. “You call hitting on her a discussion? Your dead brother’s fiancée?”

  “Doesn’t seem to bother you whose fiancée she was,” Windsor scoffed.

  This asshole really thought there was nothing wrong with what he’d done to Emma.

  “How would your superiors feel about your attempts to protect her?” Windsor asked. “I think we both know what you’re really attempting to do with her.”

  Jake kept his expression steady. He’d been careful the night he escorted Emma to the restaurant, made sure not to do anything that would imply an inappropriate relationship between them, at least not in front of Windsor and his sister. But maybe his feelings for her were more obvious than he thought.

  It didn’t matter. Whatever was happening between him and Emma was not the issue now, and Jake would put a stop to it before it interfered with the investigation. But she’d trusted Windsor, and Windsor had taken advantage of that trust. Jake had no intention of letting him do it again.

  “Emma is off-limits,” Jake said evenly. “Do you understand? She’s not interested, so get the idea out of your head.”

  The smirk covering Windsor’s face tempted Jake to wipe it off with his fist. “That an official police directive?”

  “That’s a directive from me.” Jake took another step until he was mere inches from Windsor. “We are not done here, so don’t make any plans to leave town. And I’d suggest you work on backing up that alibi.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Emma opened her notepad as she settled into the chair opposite Stuart Hartford’s desk. Her boss had called her in to go over a new project, and true to form, he’d forgotten some of the materials in the copy room.

  She really, really needed to find a different job.

  He’d been keeping her busy on menial tasks—presumably to distract her from everything else going on in her life. And she’d been so preoccupied with Jake in her apartment every night, she still hadn’t had a chance to work on her resume. With any luck, she’d have some downtime after this meeting, and if not, she’d make sure to do it at home in the evening.

  While she waited for Stuart to return, her gaze absently swept his desk, settling on the morning’s headlines on his computer screen. She angled toward it for a better view.

  The police sketch of the murder suspect filled the screen under the headline, “WANTED.” Her stomach turned at the way the news had taken a dangerous serial killer and likened him to a bank robber from the Wild West. Jake’s disdain for the media made perfect sense.

  She’d watched the replay of the press conference online several times. The more she saw the sketch, the more convinced she was it couldn’t be Ben. Not that her opinion mattered much in the grand scheme of things.

  But it mattered to Jake. He’d cared enough to warn her about the image that would soon be plastered all over the news. And how had she thanked him? By getting angry and giving him a hard time about something that was hard enough already. She hadn’t spoken to him since she’d left the precinct that morning, and the more time that passed, the bigger the apology she owed him.

  She liked having Jake check on her throughout the day, even though Adam reported back to him constantly. She liked the way he refused to leave her side any more than he had to, liked knowing he was just steps away in her living room all night long. But she’d gotten too used to his presence in such a short time, and it frightened her. His career, the dangers he faced every day, the thought of losing whatever time she might have with him—all of it frightened her.

  So much for not getting attached to him.

  “Okay, where were we?” Stuart handed Emma a stack of photocopies before he returned to his seat and noticed the image on his screen. “Oh, that. How are things working out with the bodyguard? Any progress with the case?”

  Emma sighed deeply. “No, not yet. They’re working on it, though.”

  “I’m sure they are. It’s got to be scary, being involved in all this. If there’s anything I can do, just say the word. I hate thinking of you all alone in the city, a pretty girl like you. Although, I guess you don’t have much time alone at all, now that you’ve got your own security team.”

  She forced an awkward smile. “I’m fine, really. But thank you.”

  “Don’t you love these police sketches?” Stuart said with a laugh. “They never end up looking like the guy.”

  She glanced at the screen again. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  He settled in at his desk and tilted the screen. “I mean, look at this guy.” He leaned in until his face was next to the image. “This could be me.”

  For a moment, she saw it. The generic-looking Caucasian male in the sketch could’ve been Stuart. Wow. She’d definitely been staring at it for too long. It truly could be anyone. She just didn’t want it to be Ben.

  Stuart dropped back into his chair. “So, the meeting next Wednesday.” He shuffled through some notes before explaining his strategy.

  She jotted down some points from his speech, and the rest she would figure out on her own. These projects were a breeze for her, even without Stuart’s guidance, but that didn’t make her loath them any less. She really needed to work on that resume.

  Her cell phone vibrated in the pocket of the cardigan she always kept handy in the chilly office. She pulled it discreetly into her lap to read the text from Jake.

  Jake: It’s been nearly 24 hours since I held you, and I think I’ve reached my limit. Can I please pick you up from your office tonight?

  Stuart rambled on about projections and timelines. She held the phone low and typed a response.

  Emma: Only if you let me apologize.

  Jake’s reply came almost immediately.

  Jake: No apology needed. I’ll see you when you get off work. If I can make it that long.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jake leaned against the side of the Tahoe where it was double-parked outside Emma’s office, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded hard across his chest. After the last few hours sorting through useless tips from the public, he was more tense than he could ever remember.

  When she finally stepped through the glass doors, her dark hair billowing around her face in the breeze, every muscle in his body stood up and took notice. She wore a white blouse, a fitted navy-blue skirt, and ma
tching open toe shoes with a stiletto heel that would feel so damned good digging into his back. If he didn’t get his hands on her again soon, he’d lose his goddamned mind.

  She lifted a delicate finger to swipe her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out. Her shoulders shuddered from the weight of the apology.

  The tension in his body melted as he pushed off the SUV and moved close enough to breathe in the delicious scent of her perfume. He swept a few more strands over her shoulder, studying her porcelain skin and committing every rosy-brown freckle on her face to memory, in case she ever shut him out for good.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  Anxiety creased the skin around her eyes as she gazed up at him in a long silence. “Has anyone talked to Ben yet?”

  There’d been nothing official about his visit to Windsor that morning, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about it. He shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m not going to lie to you, I’m not sure about that sketch. It could be just a coincidence, but I’m still going to look into him. I have to follow through on this.” Her gaze fell to the ground, but with a gentle finger under her chin, he lifted her face. “That’s my job. I’m not going to drag him through the mud just for the hell of it. I’d handle any other investigation the same way. I need you to trust me.”

  She nodded. “I do trust you. I’m just having a really hard time imagining him doing the things you think he’s done.”

  And she didn’t know the half of it.

  He prayed she was making the right choice, choosing to believe he wouldn’t let her down. She’d trusted people and been burned before. She’d trusted Ben.

  “I need you to do something for me, too,” she said. Her demeanor shifted suddenly. The beginning of a smile teased the corner of her mouth, sending pulses of heat through his body and inappropriate thoughts through his brain.

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “I need to deal with some of this stress. Come with me to my yoga class.”