Текст книги "Heated"
Автор книги: J. Kenner
Соавторы: J. Kenner
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Chapter Thirteen
I woke to the gentle caress of the sun streaming through a small gap in the black-out curtains. I blinked, trying to focus as the events of the night came back to me. And not just any night, but one of the most decadent, erotic, amazing nights of my life.
I pushed myself up and propped my back against a wall of pillows. The space beside me was empty, but there was a small envelope perched on the pillow.
At the gym.
Didn’t have the heart to wake you.
Coffee and croissants in kitchen.
I want you again. Hard and wild.
Soon.
T
I read the note twice, feeling like a teenager who’d just found a mash letter in her locker. All giddy and sweet and a little unsure of what to do next.
As I’d been swimming up from the depths of sleep, my mind had been filled with images of me spooning against Tyler. Of him waking me with kisses, with his hand stroking down my belly to ease the ache between my thighs.
I was wet from the night and from the erotic dreams that had followed, and I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that Tyler hadn’t been in bed to make my fantasies a reality.
He’d done a number on me all right—or maybe I’d done the number on myself.
With a sigh, I sat up, the sheet wrapped tight around me. I leaned over and thrust my fingers into my tangled hair and tried to figure out what the hell I was doing. Because I damn sure wasn’t being a cop. Yes, it’s true that I’d gotten close to Tyler—mission accomplished there—but if I was in cop mode, shouldn’t I have awakened with an agenda, all ready to jump in and move on to phase two?
Instead, I was hot and horny and frustrated the man wasn’t around to cuddle. I wasn’t entirely sure when I’d let go of the last strands of sanity and reason, but I knew damn well that somewhere along the way I had. Because right now, I wasn’t thinking about Amy or the knights’ laundry list of sins. I was thinking about last night, and about the man in whose arms I’d spent it.
Tyler Sharp had sparked something deep inside me. Something wonderful, but a little bit scary. Something that made me feel tingly and girly. That made me want to have a pedicure and pay attention to my makeup.
Something I damn well needed to guard against. Nobody is what they seem. Not me. Not Tyler.
I’d do well to remember that.
“Well, fuck.”
My words clanged against the silence of the room, their impact like a slap. Time to wrap my fist around those threads and yank my sanity back. I needed to find out if he had any information on Amy. And I needed to watch my step.
I could fuck him, but I couldn’t trust him.
With that invigorating but rather depressing pep talk, I slid out of bed and gathered up the clothes that were still lying in a heap near the door. I didn’t bother with the shoes, and after a moment’s debate I didn’t bother with the underwear, either. I might be wary, but I wasn’t stupid, and if Tyler wanted a repeat of last night’s extracurricular activities, I was more than happy to oblige.
Barefoot, I padded out of the master suite and headed toward the kitchen. Tyler was as good as his word, and I poured myself a gallon-sized cup of coffee and drank it while I leaned against the counter and scoped out the kitchen. Not typical of hotels, not by a long shot. It was huge, fully stocked, and had both an island and a small workstation with a laptop and a careless wash of papers.
That was, I thought, a good place to start.
Since I didn’t know how long Tyler would be gone, I moved quickly to the workstation and pulled open the drawer. Pens, pencils, sticky notes, and at least a dozen take-out menus. All of which was entirely unhelpful.
I eyed the laptop, which was open, its screen nothing but black. If there was something relevant in this suite, there was a good chance it was on that laptop. And it would be so easy to just take a peek …
I hesitated only a moment, then tapped the space bar. The screen blinked, then came to life, revealing an image of Lake Michigan over which an electronic notepad appeared, with six things itemized on a list:
Evan party
Jahn Foundation—board meeting, when?
Postpone Nevada, 2 weeks
Michelle—soon
Re: A—discuss options w/ C & E
Call Q re SW
The notes were primarily nonsensical, but in light of the reference to the party, I assumed it was some sort of to-do list. The kind of random list that people keep before transferring notes to a calendar or project list.
Nothing nefarious caught my eye, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a little ping in my gut upon seeing the woman’s name. Especially in such close proximity to the word “soon.” I frowned. I’m not the jealous type, especially not with regard to a man I barely knew and shouldn’t want. But there was no denying the evidence of my own reaction.
Apparently the man had bewitched me, because right at the moment, I was desperately hoping that Michelle was his dog.
I cocked my head, uncertain if I’d heard the front door open. My finger hesitated over the trackpad. I wanted to click on the list and see if it linked to more detailed information. If Kevin was right, who knew what kind of racketeering related details I might find on Tyler’s laptop. I might not be interested in being Kevin’s personal research bitch, but I did want to satisfy my own curiosity.
But if Tyler had returned …
I waited, heard nothing else, and navigated the cursor to the list. After all, I might not get this opportunity again.
I clicked.
Nothing.
Nothing that is except the password box. I exhaled, mildly irritated but not terribly surprised. I considered trying knights—or even Michelle because I was still feeling jealous and petty. But I was confident that Tyler wouldn’t be that obvious. For that matter, it was possible he had some sort of keystroke monitor and would know I’d been snooping.
I considered the computer a bit longer. The notes might mean nothing now, but maybe they would make sense later. I weighed my options, hurried into the living room to find my purse, then returned with my smart phone and snapped a picture of the screen.
It wasn’t much, but at least I’d done something.
With no other plan of attack for the kitchen, I decided to see what else might be in the penthouse. I already knew there was no workstation in the bedroom, but I sincerely doubted that a man like Tyler would be willing to live without a desk, even for only a few months.
With luck, I’d find either a dedicated office or a bedroom that Tyler had set up as one. With even more luck, I’d find something interesting.
I poured a second cup of coffee and took it with me as I set out to find and search his office. I had personal knowledge that Tyler was not only well-muscled, but had serious endurance. So I assumed he spent a significant amount of time at the gym. What I didn’t know was where the gym was located or how long he’d been gone. If he used the fitness center at The Drake, his travel time would be minimal.
No matter what, time was of the essence, and me and my coffee hurried down the corridor that lead off the south side of the living area.
The hallway angled sharply, and I’d just made the turn when I stopped dead. Tyler. His voice. I couldn’t make out the words, but I was damn sure that was his voice.
Shit. Holy fucking shit.
He was here. In the penthouse. And he must have been here the whole damn time.
I said a silent thank-you to St. Christopher—the patron saint of cops—who’d apparently been watching out for me, preventing Tyler from popping into the kitchen to freshen his coffee while I poked around on his laptop. With any luck, good old Christopher would stay on the job.
The voice was coming from behind the first door on the left. Probably a gym—it occurred to me belatedly that a penthouse this large would have a private gym—and I eased that way. I couldn’t snoop while he was on the premises, so I might as well tell him I was awake.
But as I lifted my hand to knock on the door, I realized two things. First, the door was cracked just slightly. Second, Tyler wasn’t alone.
The woman in me felt a twinge of guilt, but the cop didn’t even hesitate. I edged quietly up against the door, tilted my head, and listened.
“Franklin showed up late for the party,” said a deep voice that I recognized as belonging to Cole August. “Said to tell you that Lizzy’s a gem. Guess her first couple of days went well.”
“Glad to hear it,” Tyler said “She works hard, and she’s sharp. I figure he’s lucky to have her. At least that’s good news. Bentley’s turning out to be a liability.”
“My neck’s clear on this one,” a third man said, and I assumed it was Evan Black. “But if you want my advice, you don’t want to waste any time getting a protection plan in place.”
“Agreed,” Cole said.
“I think Michelle’s our best option,” Tyler said, and my ears perked up at the name. “Okay by you?”
“Shit, man,” Cole said. “I just fuck her. I’m not her keeper. If we need her, we’ll use her. You know that.”
“Fine,” Tyler said. “I’ll set it up. What else?”
“Lina noticed your date for the party,” Evan said in a voice that sounded just a little too smooth. “Asked me if I knew who she was.”
I froze, wishing I could see as well as hear.
“What’d you tell her?” Cole asked.
“The truth,” Evan said. “What do you think? But, dammit, Tyler, you know damn well I’m not one to question your endgame, but you should have talked to us before fucking a cop—”
I gasped—barely a sound, but I knew in that instant that they’d heard me.
Instinctively I reached for my weapon, only to remember that I wasn’t wearing it. I turned to run—because no matter what bullshit Hollywood throws at you, one unarmed, petite female detective was no match for those three—but the door was open and Tyler flew through it, catching my arm before I’d even reached the end of the hall.
“You bastard! You goddamn, mother-fucking bastard.” I hurled the words at him, even as I tried to yank my arm free. No go there; he had me tight. Which left me no option but to lash out with my free hand and smash my fist into his sanctimonious face.
He anticipated the punch, so I got him in the jaw instead of his nose.
What I didn’t get, was free. I was still trapped tight in his grip. Only now, he was surely even more pissed off.
“You son of a bitch.” I wasn’t shouting. On the contrary, my words were cold and measured, but that ice was balanced against a white hot rage.
“Jesus, fuck, that hurts,” Tyler said, tightening his grip on me as he reached up with his free hand to massage his jaw.
“Tyler.” Cole stood frozen in the hall, Evan behind him. They both looked as intimidating as hell. And in that singular moment, I understood how they’d risen to become such fierce and feared businessmen. Who the hell would dare cross them?
Me, apparently. Shit.
I considered struggling, but I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. Instead, I stood perfectly straight and perfectly silent, willing my pulse to calm down as I watched the situation and analyzed my options.
Not a long process—considering Tyler held me tight and the fact that it was three against one, I calculated that my choices were limited.
Tyler’s eyes stayed firmly on me, but he was talking to the other two men when he said, very softly and simply, “Go.”
Evan took a step forward. “Listen, Tyler. I’m—”
“Later.” Tyler’s eyes never left my face. “Go out through the back entrance. We’ll talk tomorrow. I have this under control.”
I saw the doubt in Cole’s and Evan’s faces—and I knew damn sure they could see the fury on mine—but they did as Tyler asked, and moved down the hall to a service door.
The moment it clicked shut behind them, I yanked my arm again—and once again he held me tight.
“Goddammit, Tyler. Let me go.” I was tense. Tight. And I was searching the hall, doing a visual check for anything I could use as a weapon—if I ever got free and had the chance to grab it.
“Do you know why I pushed you last night?” he asked, and I heard the danger in his voice, sharp and clean like the blade of a knife.
I met his eyes, but said nothing. I felt the tiny beads of sweat rise on the back of my neck, though, and my skin went clammy. I tried to push down the fear, tried to control the beat of my heart. But there was no denying it—and I was certain that Tyler could see it.
“Because you were a goddamn cop who had slid into my bed and I wanted—wanted—you to be afraid.”
My mouth was bone dry as he took a step closer, and I moved back until I was pressed up against the wall, his body only a hairsbreadth from mine, and I was bathed in the heat of his fury.
“I wanted to make you wonder,” he continued, his voice low and harsh and deadly. “Wonder if you’d made a mistake playing me. Make you wonder if maybe I was the kind of man who could hurt a woman.”
“Are you?”
I saw his hand rise as fury marred his face. And then, before I had time to react, to do anything, he lashed out. I winced, but he wasn’t aiming the blow at me. Instead, he punched the wall behind me, setting it to shake and rattling the sconces that lined the hallway.
“I’m not,” he said, his low, even voice a stark contrast to the man who’d just exploded in front of me. “Last night, I thought I was pushing a cop. A bitch cop who’d stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong and was afraid that maybe, just maybe, she’d fucked with the wrong man.”
He reached out, as if to stroke my cheek, but I flinched, and he paused, then slowly withdrew. “When I realized that it wasn’t me you were scared of but your memories, I wanted to kick myself. I never meant—” He drew in a breath. “I never meant to hurt you that way.”
“I believe you.” It was true. Whatever else was between us, that fundamental point was true.
He met my eyes, his full of disappointment, and then he released me. I debated running, realized I couldn’t get past him, so I decided to stay and let this play out. Besides, I wanted to know what more he had to say.
For a moment he just stood there. Then he moved across the hall and leaned against the doorjamb. Gone was the earlier fury and the regret. Instead, he looked relaxed and calm and perfectly in control.
“What is it you think you know about me, Sloane?”
I debated how to answer, then decided that some truth was the best approach. “Not much. Not much that’s concrete, anyway.”
“Tell me.”
“I know you were given immunity for Mann Act violations,” I said, watching his face carefully.
His expression didn’t change at all. “That’s interesting,” he said. “Especially when you consider that the immunity deal was confidential.”
I shrugged. “If you know I’m a cop, you probably know that my dad was in the FBI. I have a lot resources.” All true, and yet all deception. But it kept Kevin’s name out of it. I might be pissed at him for pulling me into his vendetta against Evan Black, but I wasn’t about to let Tyler know that an FBI agent still had eyes on him.
“What else?” he demanded.
“Nothing specific,” I admitted. “You three play it close to the vest. There are rumors, speculation. Word is you bump dirty against all sorts of shit. Smuggling, illegal gambling, fraud. As far as I can tell, no one has any solid evidence.”
“And that’s why you’re here.”
“No.” I caught myself taking a step toward him, and stopped. “I’m an Indianapolis homicide detective,” I said reasonably. “You really believe I’m here to find out if you’re smuggling cigarettes?”
I waited for him to reply, but he simply stayed silent, watching me. “How?” I finally asked.
He cocked his head in question.
“How did you know I was a cop?”
“You’re not dealing with idiots, Detective. Or with men who ignore their assets.”
I let his words sink in, then remembered the sign in the reception area at Destiny that plainly announced that the premises were under twenty-four-hour video surveillance.
“Remote video feed,” I said.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smart phone. “I can play back the footage on my laptop, my phone. Like I said, it’s important for me to keep an eye on the place.”
“Thousands of people must cross in front of your cameras. Why notice me?”
“You intrigued me on two counts.” He winced a little, then ran his thumb over the rising bruise on his knuckles. “One, I liked the way you looked. For another, we don’t get many walk-in applicants. Those things combined to catch my eye.”
“And you learned I was a cop? How?”
“Hardly tricky. Like I said, you caught my eye. And I find it useful to have as much information about people as I can. So I had a buddy lift your prints from your application. After that, it was no trouble at all. Sloane Watson, on medical leave from the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department. And that,” he added with a nod toward my hip, “wasn’t from a mugging.”
He waited, obviously expecting me to tell him what happened.
I stayed silent.
His shoulder lifted almost infinitesimally. “I told you I don’t trust easy. I meant it.”
I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to process all he’d told me while at the same time figuring out my next move.
My goddamn prints. It had never occurred to me that they’d run the prints of someone applying for a waitress position. And it had never occurred to me that Tyler would watch the security feed when he was out of town.
Two mistakes, and knowing they were out there—that they were on me—only riled my temper more. “You knew, and yet you brought me to your room, stripped me, fucked me?” I thought about the couch, the waiter. About the way the erotic thrill had ripped through me, like some intimate new secret that he’d shared with me.
“You played me,” I said, my voice low but trembling with anger. “You fucking played me.”
“Hell yes, I played you. I already told you. I pulled you in, step by step. I had every intention of using you and being done with you.”
He moved away from the door, taking a single step toward me. “Nothing but one big con—or at least that’s the way I planned it. Because nobody plays those kinds of games with me. Not and gets away with it.”
“Well, hooray on you,” I said. “You win. Happy?”
“Not really, no.”
“Yeah? Well, good.” I tried to make the words sound cavalier and uncaring. But dammit, I did care. And now that my fear was gone and the anger was settling, I felt hollow and lost.
Goddamn me for letting myself get twisted around by this guy—this fucking asshole who didn’t want a goddamn thing except to use me. And I’d gone and let myself believe that part of it was real. His talk of trust and passion. Of feeling that connection.
I’d let myself forget that he was a grifter at heart, and who better to see your weak spots than a con who manipulated emotions to make a fast buck?
Well, fuck him.
I started to turn away, but he took my chin. “No,” he said, his voice soft yet firm. “I know what you’re thinking, and no. I pushed you because I thought you were a cop. But when you ran—when I went after you—it was because I wanted the woman.”
“Please,” I said, as a brutal wave of exhaustion swept over me. “Please, will you just let me leave?”
He said nothing for so long I thought he was going to simply ignore the question. “Is that what you want?” he finally asked.
Is that what I want?
Wasn’t that a loaded question? I wanted to start over. I wanted him to be squeaky clean. I wanted to not be a cop.
Except, I didn’t. Not really. I liked who I was. And—though I would admit it only to myself, and even then only in the smallest, darkest parts—I also like who Tyler was. Would he be the same man if he’d grown up all corn fed and innocent with a homecoming king crown on his head? I didn’t think so.
But it didn’t matter, because this was the end. There was nothing between us now but memories, and now even those were tainted, tinged with the bloodred stain of deceit.
“I don’t want anything,” I said wearily. “I meant what I said last night. The only reason I came to Chicago—the only reason I did any of this—was because I want to find Amy.”
He arched a brow. “Aren’t you afraid I sold her to some sick fuck on the other side of the world?”
“No,” I said, and though I meant it sincerely, I was cop enough to know that I couldn’t entirely dismiss the possibility.
He nodded his head, and I thought I saw relief in his eyes.
“So can I have the job?” I really did want it. Not only did I hope that one of the girls would know how to contact Amy, but I also wanted to find out if Kevin and Tom were right, and the knights’ played in a dirty sandbox.
“I told you last night,” he said. “No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Those girls have been through a lot. They don’t need a cop poking around in their personal business.”
“They don’t need to know I’m a cop.”
“And I’m not going to be the one to deceive them.”
“You sure as hell didn’t have a problem deceiving me.”
Temper flashed in his eyes. “Don’t go there. Do not even start to go there.”
Frustrated, I kicked the wall hard, then again for good measure. “Dammit, Tyler—”
He held up a hand. “Enough. Neither one of us is clean on that score, so let’s just drop it.”
“Fine.”
“But even if I was willing to keep what you are a secret, Evan and Cole wouldn’t go for it.”
That I knew I couldn’t argue with.
“You can come in,” he said. “Sit down with the girls. Ask them if they know anything. It’s the best I can do, Sloane. Take it or leave it.”
It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t even close to good enough. But unless I could figure out a way to convince Tyler otherwise, it was going to have to be.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll take it.”
