Dangerous (2 page)

Shortly after dawn, Camille entered the century-old building on Ravenswood, an industrial corridor divided by raised Metra train tracks straight down the middle. Her life was now in shambles, and guilt dogged her. Sandy was gone, and she was to blame, the reason she was here. She had no other options left. Taking a deep breath, Camille took the elevator up to the third floor and stopped in front of the door to Justus Investigat
ions. She tried not to think about the fact that Justus was Drago's brother. Or that she and Drago had spent a mind-bending weekend in a hotel room. At this moment, finding Sandy was the only thing that mattered.

The attractive dark-haired woman at the front desk appeared startled to see her. “Can I help you?”

“I'm here to see Justus Nance.”

“Um, this early?” Frowning, the woman checked her computer. “I don't see an appointment.”

“He'll see me.” At least she hoped he would. Justus had been her mentor in the department when she'd applied to be a detective. “Tell him it's Camille Martell.”

The woman picked up the phone, and a moment later, Justus opened his office door and waved her in. “Camille, beautiful as ever.”

“You always were an expert liar.”

Justus didn't deny it. Sometimes you had to be a great liar to get to the truth when grilling a suspect. Camille had no illusions about herself. Her mirror had assured her that she looked as crappy as she felt. On the other hand, Justus was as handsome as ever, an older, smoother version of his brother.

The moment she took her seat, Justus said, “So Rodriguez put you on administrative leave.”

She cringed when she remembered the conversation she'd had with her lieutenant the night before.

“This doesn't look good for you, Camille,” Rodriguez tells her. “You were off the case. What you did was unsanctioned. I can't condone vigilante action. The department won't.”

“With all due respect, sir, I was trying to get to Angel before he had another chance at some innocent woman.” Desperate to make him believe she wasn't doing anything wrong, she says, “If I'd have found him, you would've known about it.”

“When? After you carried through with whatever plan was going through that head of yours?”

“The plan was to stop a murderer!”

“Exactly.”

Camille had tried to argue her way out of an administrative leave. It never boded well to ignore a superior's directive. She could almost feel the tears of frustration and anger again when she had set her star and gun down on his desk.

And this was barely ten hours later…

“How did you know so quickly?” she asked Justus, wondering if he'd been expecting her.

“Just because I left the department doesn't mean I don't know what's going on. I still have friends there even if you haven't made a point of contacting me since I left.” He paused only a moment before asking, “So you took it on yourself to trap this guy who calls himself Angel?”

“It was my case. He'd already killed at least one other woman he'd met on a Chicago online dating chat room before he chatted up then abducted and killed Leanne Grant. I should have been able to stop him before it was too late. And I'll be the first to admit I was obsessed with her murder.” Not that she was going to explain why. She never talked about the tragedy she had caused all those years ago. “Rodriguez thought I was too emotionally involved and ignoring other investigat
ions, so he took me off the case a couple of weeks ago. What was I supposed to do?”

“I guess I'm not surprised. You always took things a little too personally. I can't believe you would have missed anything in the Grant case, so stop blaming yourself. Offering yourself up as the next victim wasn't your best move.”

“I'm no victim, Justus. I wanted to stop that bastard myself—”

“How did that work out for you? Are you really arrogant enough to think you could take on a killer on your own?”

Camille practically jumped out of her chair. “I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

“I don't agree with what you did—you should have asked Rodriguez for his blessing to continue working on your own time. And for backup if you succeeded in contacting the bastard. Now look at the mess you've made. I assume you're here because you want help getting that girl back. Alive.”

The urge to leave vanished as her anguish resurfaced. She closed her eyes for a moment and saw that photo of her childhood friend Emily that she'd seen at the suburban police department, and all the life drained out of her. The investigating officer had stepped away from his desk for a moment, leaving Emily's folder there in full view. Her parents had been distracted and Camille had been unable to stop herself from opening it. “Yes. Alive. More than anything. You can help me do that, right?”

Justus had quit the force to start his own private investigation firm, one that specialized in getting justice for victims or their families when the system didn't work.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But you know that may get you into deeper trouble with the department.”

“I. Don't. Care. I can't let it go. Sandy is
my
responsibi
lity.” She should have taken the time to get to know the girl who walked her dog, figured out the teenager might get into her computer. She'd briefly spoken to Gloria Kawecki last night, had learned that Sandy's computer privileges had been cut off after she'd stayed out after curfew, the reason she'd checked her email on Camille's computer. “Don't you see, Justus, I have to find her before it's too late.”

Looking over her shoulder, Justus said, “Then you'll have the perfect investigator for this particular job.”

Even as he said it, she sensed the presence behind her. Instincts honed beyond what she could explain, Camille felt the quiver along the back of her neck. Her mouth felt dry and her knees went soft, but she refused to show any weakness as she turned.

Drago Nance stood just inside the office door. His rugged features, countered by dark hair, were all too familiar. She knew every inch of him. She'd slept with him, had spent a whole weekend with him, mostly in bed, telling herself it was just sex, no big deal. A weekend fling, which was so uncharacte
ristic of herself, as she never had another after Drago—and that had been four years ago, so why was the memory as sharp as if it had been four days ago?

As incredible as he'd appeared then, he looked even better now. He'd always topped six feet, but he'd been trimmer, less intimidating. The tan T-shirt he wore fit him like a second skin, accentuating every muscle. His unruly hair was longer now, spilling over his forehead, framing those deep blue eyes that had set her heart racing the first time she'd met him…

She enters the bar looking for Justus to talk about a case, and this hunk gives her an appreciative once-over that curls her toes. “Looking for me?” he asks in a whiskey-smooth voice.

“Looking for Nance.” Though her eyes roam the area, her pulse rushes. She's fully aware of being studied.

“You found him,” he says. “Drago Nance.”

Justus's brother. Their gazes lock and she can't turn away. For the first time in her life, she feels an instant connection…

Her heart was racing just remembering.

Trying to dispel his unwanted effect, she choked out, “So you're a private investigator now?”

“I have a license and everything. All shiny and new.”

Camille clenched inside. “Your brother must have some influence.” She didn't add
after what happened four years ago,
just let the inference hang between them.

“Justus always has influence. When he chooses to use it.”

She didn't miss the puzzling barb.

Justus backed his younger brother. “Drago served his time.”

“Did he?” Thinking back to what she knew about him, Camille wasn't so sure that six months in Cook County Jail had been enough.

“He's been working for me for three years now to get that PI license,” he clarified. “He's good, you can trust him.”

Trust Drago Nance? Camille thought not. At least not personally. And she wasn't sure about the case, either. The weekend they'd shared had been all-consuming, so much so that she'd thought they would have more time together. Then she'd never heard from him again.

She moved closer to her former mentor. “I thought you and I could work together, Justus. Like old times.”

“Time is the problem. I would've been happy to work with you again, but I'm already overbooked. Besides, Drago is better suited for this kind of case.”

And from behind her, Drago added, “I'm your man. If you want me.”

Why did everything he say sound so personal, like he was trying to get to her? Heart skipping a beat, she turned to face him. When he stepped closer, she saw something different about him—he was harder. His face had changed; there was something dark and dangerous in his expression that hadn't been there before.

“Sandy Kawecki's life is on the line.” Still staring, she had to force out the words. What had changed him? His time in jail?

“I'm already up to speed.”

Because Justus had assumed she would come to him? How else would Drago know what was going on with her? Why else would he be here this early, before most businesses were open for the day?

“The girl's life is the important thing here, isn't it?” he asked.

“She's the
only
thing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He'd said that to her four years ago, just before he'd stripped off her clothes. With his teeth.

Grinding hers so she wouldn't forget herself and smile at the memory, she took a deep breath and asked, “What do we need to do to get started?”

Drago needed Camille Martell. Not that she would appreciate the fact. Or believe him, for that matter, since he'd never called her the way he'd promised he would after their hot weekend together. Even so, he'd never forgotten her.