Criminal Promises (16 page)

“You’ll not stop me this time, but you can
have a chance to save those under your protection. Your failure
will result in mass destruction.”

The note left on Michelle Dane had been
directed at BD and Craig and had served as a threat to Maggie,
though she’d been targeted more because of her connection to the
late archeologist and by extension Mike.

Studying the latest notes, BD looked for more
links.

“
The cops will not get in the
middle again. I’ll have the key to harnessing the
power.”

“Mike paid for turning me in. Don’t try to
outsmart me. Get me the papers or die.”

Out of context they seemed as random as the
murder victims, which now seemed anything but random. The
underlying tone in the notes dealt with history. Each victim had
been a specialist in their field. Mike Sullivan had been an ancient
languages expert and a seemingly upstanding guy. The only one who
didn’t fit with ancient papers was the investment broker.

Opening his laptop, BD pulled up Google and
tried different search parameters hoping to whittle away at the
endless possibilities. Once they figured out what the papers were
about they could set a trap. And he’d make sure they snared
Adalia’s accomplice too.

When the pages blurred, BD rubbed his hands
over his face. Whoever said being a cop was exciting didn’t realize
how tedious and mind-numbing it could be, though not numbing enough
to fully dislodge the persistent impressions Maggie left in her
wake.

Even now, her scent invaded his thoughts,
made him remember her taste and revived the hum of arousal he’d
been battling since moving in. If things went too far, and they
easily could, she would own his soul.

He couldn’t risk Maggie because of lust and
stupidity. Her children would not be made orphans. Another woman
would not die because of him.

“You’re going to be
stooped over like an old man if you spend much more time on the
floor hunched over papers and your laptop.”

He jerked and spun to face Maggie. His mind
whirled with possible ways of keeping her from seeing the content
of the papers all around, yet a quick look at her and thoughts of
papers vanished. She was a sucker punch to the groin.

Standing just outside his door, looking
firmly in control again, she wore a neon blue, satin tank top that
hugged the curves of her unbound breasts. Form-fitting workout
shorts not much bigger than the boy-short style underwear some
women wore drew his attention to her legs. He wondered which thong
she had on under the shorts. Unless she didn’t have any on.

His cock saluted the commando idea.

Damn it.
Where were the baggy pajama pants she’d worn last
night? Her current get up made it all too easy to recall the
softness of her shape beneath him. Her hair hung, unbraided, almost
to her waist in magnificent damp waves. Some of the wetness had
moistened her top and now showcased stiff nipples.

With Herculean effort, he
casually began gathering the notes. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” She leaned
against the door and crossed her arms over the bright top, pushing
her breasts up until their swells peeked out. Humor curled her lip
subtly, just as Sam’s had done when she watched him
work.

The base of his back itched
with memories and stirring desires. He looked back to the floor and
papers. “Right.”

The home and family he’d always wanted had
been his for a few brief months. Now, he had to remember it was
gone. Maggie wasn’t a replacement. He wouldn’t take chances again.
The price was unaffordable.

“Have you had any luck
figuring out what Adalia’s after?”

BD evaluated his options of
how much to tell her, and how to break his latest news. Picking up
the papers and laptop, he moved to his desk. “Still working on
it.”

“Are the papers you’re
hiding helping?”

Damn woman was too
perceptive. “Not really.”

“So, nothing new.” She
walked over and sat on the end of the bed. “What do we do
now?”

He averted his eyes from her lean legs as he
turned the chair and straddled it. She pulled her legs up to sit
Indian style. The sinew of her slender thighs flexed slightly. He
lost track of the conversation. Just how flexible was she? How
adventurous would she be in bed?

“Harte.”

He blinked and forced his
mind back to a safer path. “Yeah?”

“What happens next? Do you
have any idea how you’re going to catch her?”

“We have some leads. Until
we…validate them—”

“They mean
nothing.”

The pulse pounded against
the tender skin of her neck. From fear? Arousal? “You don’t want to
know the things I know about Adalia. I wouldn’t tell you if you
did.”

Maggie closed her eyes and
took a few steady breaths before looking at him again. “When are
you going to tell me anything?”

The woman’s control astounded him.
Considering the mental hits she’d taken, she was holding up really
well. And she’d voluntarily sent her kids away. That couldn’t have
been easy.

“Consider it need to
know.” The less she knew the better. He’d never talk to anyone
other than Craig about the details of the job again. As for Maggie,
he wanted to shelter her from the pain of knowing her husband may
have been connected to Adalia.

Feeling like a caged animal, BD lurched off
the chair and paced the room. Craig had a freakish control that
kept him cool-headed at all times. BD couldn’t make such a claim.
Another reason he was the wrong guy to be guarding her. First thing
in the morning he was switching places with Craig.

“Harte, sit.”

Quirking a brow, he slowly
pivoted on his heel. She had
not
just commanded him like she might a dog. “Excuse
me?”

“Sit.” Oooh, the
I’m-a-mother-and-will-be-obeyed-tone grated. She’d found an exposed
nerve and was virtually digging her finger in it. Obeying her order
was the last thing he would do.

He watched her and crossed
his arms. “You sound amazingly as if you’re commanding a
mutt.”

“No.” Maggie straightened
her spine so stiff she could have passed for an aristocrat thumbing
her nose at him. “More like a stubborn man who thinks he’s doing me
a favor by not telling me what he knows.”

“Mags…”

“Don’t ‘Mags’
me.”

He clenched his jaw and breathed slowly,
trying to see past the red haze in front of him. He stalked toward
the end of the bed, bearing down on her.

She fell backward, bracing
herself on her elbows. Her legs dropped off the bed, but her gaze
never wavered. “I want answers. It was one thing to keep secrets
before Adalia walked into my home. Before uprooting my kids became
a necessity. Before my home was vandalized and bugged. I
deserve
to know what’s
going on.”

BD stood between her
slightly spread legs, crossed his arms behind his back, and bending
at the waist, leaned in. “You don’t want the answers I
have.”

“You’re not doing me any
favors by keeping secrets.” Her sexy voice carried as much power
and conviction as if she’d been standing toe-to-toe with
him.

Even half-reclining on the end of his bed,
with her legs straddling his in a potentially sexual position, she
jutted her stubborn chin out in defiance. Yeah, she’d recovered
from her meltdown and she was sticking to her guns.

Irresistible.

“Damn it, speak.” The bark
of her command busted the first snap on his control.

His blood raged. BD swooped down. She jerked
her head backward an inch. Bracing his arms on the bed at the sides
of her hips, he lowered himself until his nose brushed hers,
leaving her no option but to lay all the way back if she wanted to
avoid touching him.

She dropped flat. He grinned.

“Believe me.” Straining
against the invisible leash holding his temper and desire in check,
the words ground from between clenched teeth. “You want some of the
favors I’m granting.”

“No!”

If she’d intended to say anything else he
didn’t care. He captured her luscious, protesting mouth and poured
every ounce of anger and aggression and passion swirling in his
veins into the kiss. Restraining himself from doing more, knowing
possessing her would only make matters worse, he maintained the
minimal distance between their bodies. Still, he angled his head
and explored her open mouth.

She tasted like the honey he’d imagined
earlier when she faced him in her red lace bra. Under the sweetness
was a hint of spice. The same spice he’d tasted every other time
he’d kissed her. If he continued, her body would heat up. She’d be
moaning, and he would take her all the way with him.

Jerking away from the temptation threatening
his sanity, he left her sprawled on his bed, and stalked to the
window to look through the narrowly cracked blinds.

“Harte—”

Knowing if he looked at her
he would see flushed cheeks and dilated pupils, he kept his back to
the room. “Don’t push me, Mags. You aren’t ready for the
consequences.”

“You—”

“Here’s the deal.”
Spinning to face her, he found her sitting with her back ramrod
straight. Regal as royalty, she stood and braced her hands at the
indention of her waist. Her slender fingers, gifted with the
ability to incite fires in his body, tapped her pelvis.

He slid his gaze down her sexy, toned legs to
her red toenails—God what was it with her and that color—and slowly
back up. The fire in her eyes warned him to keep a safe distance
between them. She looked violent, aroused and he’d seen what she
could do with those lethal legs and a well-placed kick.

Collecting what little control he still
possessed, he walked over and leaned against the desk. She wanted
to know things? So did he.

“Adalia takes grotesque
pleasure in tormenting her victims.” He may be a bastard, but she’d
asked for it. “She’s been in your home twice. Whoever is helping
her has the resources of the Dallas Police at his disposal and,
unless I’m wrong, he’s watching you when she isn’t. You can tell
yourself this is all because of me, but reality is different. And
Adalia is only giving you a small taste of the tricks in her
arsenal.

“Brace yourself, sugar,”
he plundered ahead. This was where it would get dicey. “Things are
about to change.”

“Excuse me?” She stalked
toward him.

“You heard me.” He
mirrored her moves until they were in the middle of the
floor.

Toe-to-toe.

Nose-to-nose.

Aggression-to-aggression.

“We are dealing with a
woman capable of doing things most men wouldn’t dream of. If she
hadn’t passed psychiatric tests I’d argue she’s not entirely sane.
Either way, things are changing. Now.”

Her eyes widened and she pursed her mouth,
obviously thinking of her next move. In this, he was focused.
Nothing would derail him.

“By ‘things’ you think
you’re going to boss me around and I’m going to blindly
follow?”

“I
know
you
will
do certain things my way.” He
raised a brow daring her to argue. “Others are open to minor
negotiations.”

“Hah!”

“Scoff all you want.”
Reveling in the odd sensation of being in complete, cool control of
himself for the first time since stepping into her house, BD eased
his chest down until he brushed against hers. “I’m
serious.”

A droning silence passed with them staring
each other down, neither willing to back down. She played this game
with her kid. BD played it with killers.

“Tell me what you
think
is going to
happen.”

He grinned. He would’ve won
in the end, but at least this way maybe it could be handled with
less arguing. “For starters, we will be sleeping in the same room
until this is done. Yours or mine, it’s your pick, but we will be
sharing a room.”

“I will not!” Shaking her
head, she backed away.

He snaked a hand out,
grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Pinning her body to
his, he shook his head. “This is
not
one of the negotiable points.
Until this is over you don’t leave my sight.”

“I’d like to see you try
to enforce that.”

In a blink, BD picked her up and sent her
flying through the air. She landed on the mattress with an
inelegant grunt. She didn’t even bounce and he was on top of her.
He pressed his body against hers, inch for inch, and made himself
deadweight.

She grunted, wiggled, pushed at his sides,
wiggled again. Then she pounded on his back. Jockeying for a more
comfortable position, and safer should she start in with her knees,
he wedged his knees between hers.

Using her new freedom, she lifted her legs
and kicked him wherever her feet could reach. His cock hardened,
begging for a role in the fight. Calling himself a bastard for the
immense pleasure and arousal he got out of the situation, he
nuzzled into her neck.

The scent of vanilla and roses clung to her
skin and hair from her bath. Lowering his lids so they were barely
open, he inhaled, drew her essence inside himself. It only enhanced
his discomfort—physical and emotional. She tangled him up, made him
want things he’d given up on.