InTooDeep (2 page)

Dave’s feet hit the floor with a thump.
“One of your one-night stands?” He took a slurp of coffee. “Maybe she couldn’t
stand being without you any longer.” He slapped a hand over his heart in a
dramatic gesture.

Hunt was growing more irritated by the
minute. “I don’t even know why I bother talking to you sometimes.” He paused.
“And I would know if I’d slept with her.” He hoped he would anyway. He couldn’t
imagine drinking enough liquor to dull the memories of one night with the leggy
redhead.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he
swept his hand across the manila folders atop his desk. “She said she didn’t
expect me to know her. She broke into my house.”

Dave sat up so quickly the coffee sloshed
over the rim of his cup. “And you were there? Did she take anything? Did you
actually see her?”

“Yeah, I had her right in my line of fire
and she… Well, never mind.” The last thing he wanted his partner to know was he
gotten his ass kicked by a woman. It wasn’t something he’d admit to
anyway…especially to Dave, who considered gossiping a hobby.

Dave grinned, holding up one hand. “So why
didn’t you arrest her?” He peered closer. “Wait a minute. You let her go,
right?” The shaggy brown hair slid down over one eye as he nodded his head
understandingly. “Hey, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I
mean, it’s been a while since you’ve been with a woman, and the flesh can be
weak.”

“Go to hell.” Hunt should have known better
than to involve Dave. Though he trusted the man with his life, his partner
never took things too seriously. He said it was his way of making sure he
didn’t die with regrets.

Seeing Dave’s questioning look, Hunt
grudgingly forced out an answer. “I didn’t touch her. She was quick…quicker
than any normal burglar. She wasn’t there for money.”

“What did she look like?”

“Tall redhead, great body, a face you
wouldn’t easily forget…not that you would want to.”

“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

“She was there, Dave.” The seriousness of
Hunt’s tone erased the smile from his partner’s face, finally pulling him into
the gravity of the situation.

“You didn’t call it in?”

“She didn’t strike me as dangerous. She
said she wants something.”

“Well did you at least let Crime Scene dust
your place?”

“Wouldn’t have done any good. She was
wearing gloves. She looked like a damn professional. Head to toe in black.
Moved like she’d broken into too many houses to count. I was pointing my gun at
her and she didn’t even break a sweat.” Hunt shook his head, tension gnawing at
his stomach.

“I’m sensing a but.”

“Not necessarily a but. There was just
something about her, something about the way she moved. She’s had some type of
professional training, and she learned very well.” So well, in fact, that she’d
bested him in a matter of seconds.

Dave scooted forward in his chair. “You
think she could be IA? I’ve been hearing stories about the squad stepping up
investigations because of some rogue cops.”

“Internal Affairs wouldn’t pull this shit.
They’re sticklers for the rules. Besides that, as far as I know I’m not under
investigation.” Hunt paused. “Am I?”

“Friend, I wouldn’t know if my own ass was
in a sling much less yours.”

“That’s a comforting thing to hear from my
partner.”

Dave rocked back in his chair, rubbing his
upper lip. “So what were her measurements?”

Hunt glared. “Knock it off. I wasn’t
focusing on her body.”

A snort broke forth. “Sorry, partner, but
I’m going to call bullshit on that one. From the way you make her sound she was
a cross between Aphrodite and Lady Godiva. If you didn’t notice her body, I’ve
got a two-inch—”

“Good morning, Grace.” Hunt interrupted his
friend quickly, smiling up at the female officer passing by.

Dave whistled. “Whew. I really need to
start looking over my shoulder before I open my mouth.”

“Why? Don’t you think she’d be interested
in your two-inch dick?”

“Hey, that was strictly used as a metaphor.
I happen to have—”

“Damn. I can’t figure out what I’m supposed
to have that she wants.” Hunt broke in before Dave could defend his manhood.

Dave whistled and rocked his chair on two
legs. “So I’m listening.”

“To what?”

“For. I’m listening for details, my friend.
I want full disclosure. What exactly happened when this goddess broke in?”

“I’ve told you all that I know.”

Dave propped his chin on his elbows. “Yeah,
I’ll bet.” He released a lusty sigh. “Sure wish I could have seen her.”

“Yeah, well, do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Let’s just keep this between the two of us
right now. There’s no need to involve the lieutenant yet.” Hunt looked over his
shoulder at Lieutenant Franklin’s closed door.

Dave rubbed one finger over his upper lip.
“You still haven’t knocked that chip off your shoulder, I see.”

Hunt didn’t want to run through the same
conversation he’d had with his partner for the past three weeks…since Franklin
had transferred in from vice. “Another time, partner.”

“Sure. Whatever you think’s best, but the
next time a looker breaks into your house, how about doing a friend a favor and
getting all the details? You can’t fuel dreams without measurements, pal.”

“I’ll do that.” Hunt managed a laugh even
though he didn’t feel like laughing. What he wanted was to know more about the redhead.
She’d obviously broken into his house for a reason. Would she have told him if
he hadn’t threatened to arrest her? What could be so important that she would
risk breaking into a detective’s house? The last, lingering question in his
mind didn’t surprise him.

Would she return?

As night fell, the surge of adrenaline
nipped at her heels, flowing through her veins like warm liquor. Carley closed
her eyes for a moment, reaching for focus, shoving the desperation to the back
of her mind.

She’d gone by Dani’s house, finding
nothing. Not even a dish in the sink. She’d considered, maybe her baby sister
had decided to do something wild for a change, then quickly dismissed it. If
there was one thing Dani wasn’t, it was wild.

She’d run out of options, which was why she
was heading back to Detective Brandon’s house. Last night had only been the
dangle of the carrot. She’d gotten his attention, and since she couldn’t just
stroll into the local police station and give her name, Brandon’s attention was
exactly what she needed.

The master key slipped into the lock and it
turned with a quiet snick. With a sigh of relief Carley slipped through the
back door and into Brandon’s house, her heart pumping. Ever thankful she’d paid
the detective several quiet nocturnal visits to scope out her entryways while
he’d been on stakeout the previous week, she slid the key into her pocket.

She made her way back to his bedroom and
paused by the top of his bed, running one hand over his pillow, which still
bore the indentation of his head. Drawing in a deep breath, she caught the
lingering scent of an aromatic cologne. Its fresh, clean fragrance permeated
her senses and brought back the images of a broad chest, honed muscles and a
face that, though hidden in the shadows, she’d already memorized from the
photographs she’d collected.

The detective had a lot of physical
attributes going for him, but that would have to take a backseat for now. But
after she knew her sister was safe…

The thought trailed off.
Enough, Carley.
Forget what he looks like, how he’d feel, and just concentrate on what you need
him from him. You can always take what you want later.

Chapter Two

Though his house was locked up tight, Hunt
knew someone had been inside…a female. And not just any female. His visitor had
returned. Her haunting scent filtered into the air and his cock sprang to
attention.

Drawing his service weapon, he inched his
way across the carpet, checking the kitchen, the laundry room, before turning
his attention down the hallway. He followed the lingering trace of heady
perfume straight into his bedroom, where she’d left her mark.

The bedside light was on but he was sure it
had been either wiped clean of fingerprints or she’d worn gloves as she had
before. The woman left no physical traces of evidence behind…only the subtle
knowledge she was there.

“Or maybe it wasn’t so subtle,” he
muttered, his glance sweeping the room. He tucked his weapon into the safety
holster below his left arm and secured it. She must have left a message
somehow, since she’d made it obvious she didn’t want material things.

“So where in the hell’s the message?”

He wandered from room to room, pausing to
check behind doors, along the windowsills and finally in the showers. Nothing.

Disgusted, he yanked his tie loose, ditched
his holster and threw his jacket across the back of the ratty old recliner his
father had owned long before Hunt was even born. He hated playing by this
woman’s rules, following her lead. He’d always been the one in control, calling
the shots. Now she’d put him in the waiting position, and he knew if he didn’t
get his mind off of her it’d be another sleepless night.

Right now a cold beer and the sports
channel sounded like the perfect distraction. He tugged open the refrigerator
door and stuck his head inside. Immediately his jaw dropped.

Taped to one of the longneck beer bottles
was a bright pink note card with the simple words “I’ll call you” in elegant
handwriting across it.

Hunt’s jaw ached from the clenching. “Now
she’s just fucking with me.” He didn’t like games and this woman apparently
excelled at them. She certainly didn’t need to leave him a note to tell him she
was going to call him but this had to be her way of letting him know she could
come and go as she pleased with or without his knowledge.

His cell phone trilled and he plucked the
phone off his hip and flipped it open with a curt, “Brandon.”

“Detective Brandon, I’m sorry about
breaking into your house again but I didn’t think you would want me to call you
at work. Plus, there were a couple of things I needed to check out. I hope you
got my note by now.”

The low, sultry voice put Hunt’s senses on
alert. “I don’t like playing games and I don’t have time for them. So either
you tell me what it is you want from me or I’ll put an entire detail on this,
and you will get caught.”

She laughed, a light, musical sound that
was out of character with the huskiness of her voice. “It’s important to know
as much as you can about someone before you place your faith in them. Wouldn’t
you agree?” Her voice hardened.

“You might be looking for someone to trust
but what you’ve found is trouble. Breaking and entering is a felony in any
state.”

“I guess you’ll have to arrest me then.”

“I should have done that last night.” Hunt
couldn’t begin to explain the reasoning behind his accelerated heartbeat or the
thickening of his blood in his veins. Chalking it up to the thrill of the
chase, he lowered his voice. “So I guess I’ll just have to catch you again.”

“Or maybe I’ll just have to allow myself to
be caught.”

The idea had its merits, but the last thing
Hunt wanted was to see his mystery woman behind bars, at least not without a
few answers…and other things. Things like handcuffs.

Dammit. How in the hell was he supposed to
think when his hands could still feel the woman’s curves? “So you’re thinking
about turning yourself in then?”

“Perhaps in the future but first, there’s
something I need to talk to you about.”

“And you thought committing a felony would
be the best way to approach me?”

“Sometimes instincts work better than
thoughts.”

“Did your instincts tell you that you’re
going to spend the next fifteen to twenty years in an eight-by-twelve cell?”

She laughed again, a sultry, warm laughter
that kicked him squarely in the stomach. “You won’t arrest me, Detective. You
want to know what I want with you.”

“So why don’t you just tell me and we can
stop these verbal charades?”

“Perhaps in a day or two. As much as I like
to believe my instincts are right, I have to make sure I can trust you.”

“Trust me? I’m one of the good guys,
remember?”

“True but, in my case, a good guy isn’t
necessarily what I need.”

Her words intrigued him more than they
should. Forgetting all about the letter of the law, Hunt adjusted the cell
phone against his ear and slipped his tie loose from the collar of his shirt.
He had to get to know her, put her at ease. Then maybe she would lower her
guard. But something told him this woman was too smart for that. The thought
put him on edge. “I work better with all of the information up front. If you
want my help you’re going to have to play this by my rules.”

She ignored the command. “I have a better
idea. Let’s meet. This time outside your house. Neutral territory. Once you
hear what I have to say, the next step will be yours.”

His grip tightened around his cell. “I’m going
to find out who you are.”

“You won’t have to find out if you follow
my instructions, Detective. I’ll be happy to tell you.”

He detected a distinct trace of anxiety in
her voice. Faint, but enough for him to know he’d unnerved her. “Don’t think
you have the upper hand here. I wouldn’t be the detective you think I am if I
allowed that, now would I?”

A long pause followed a breathy sigh. “Are
you trying to scare me?”

“Is that possible?”

“No.” All trace of nervousness was gone
from her voice.

She sounded so close—as if he could reach
out and touch her. “I think it is, and I also think the reason you’re playing
this cloak and dagger game is because you’re already scared of something. You
need my help but any background information you’ve found out about me isn’t
enough for you to make a decision as to whether or not you can trust me. That’s
why you’ve broken into my home twice.”

When she didn’t respond he continued, “You
know, you haven’t asked why I didn’t report the first break-in.”

Silence. Then she breathed into his ear,
several short puffs of air he swore blew across his skin. “I already know the
answer to that one. You want to know why I would be so bold as to enter your
bedroom in the middle of the night. Oh, and you don’t want your fellow
detectives to know you got your ass kicked by a woman.”

The muscles in his stomach knotted. The
woman was dangerous, tempting and trouble. And he didn’t need anything she was
offering. He opened his mouth to tell her she could find another “helper” but
the words wouldn’t come.

“Barring any unexpected diversions, I’ll
leave you a note tomorrow telling you where we can meet.”

Then the line went dead and he thought
about slinging the phone across the room. Every nerve in his body was tense,
screaming with friction. He needed something…a release.

And all he could picture was a voluptuous
redhead with saucy green eyes.

Definitely trouble.

“I ain’t seen Dani in…” The elderly woman
closed one eye as if trying to recapture the memory, “well, probably three or
four days, maybe more.”

Carley smiled at Dani’s neighbor. “And the
last time you saw her, did she tell you where she was going?” She kept her
voice calm and pleasant. The last thing she needed to do was arouse suspicion.
Dani had warned her about Mrs. Buttle and her propensity for rapid-dialing the
police without warning.

The wind pushed the woman’s snow-white hair
back from her face and she tightened the knot in her checkered terry robe to
ward off any chill. “Well now, that I don’t remember. I do recall though, that
she’s been dating a really nice fellow.”

Dating? Dani hadn’t said anything about
dating. Carley frowned at the thought. Why wouldn’t her sister have mentioned a
guy? “Oh yes, I know,” she lied without even the slightest bit of guilt.
“Between you and me though, I think they were moving a bit too fast.”

“Oh pshaw!” Mrs. Buttle waved a hand heavy
with jeweled rings. “My Henry, God rest his soul, and I had only known each
other three weeks when we got married. Sometimes you just know.”

“So you didn’t happen to notice if maybe
Dani went off with this guy?” Carley snapped her fingers. “Why can’t I remember
his name? I swear, sometimes, I’m losing my mind.”

Mrs. Buttle beamed at her as if grateful to
have someone to commiserate with. “I know exactly what you’re talking about,
honey, and I’ve got many years on you. His name was Scott, I believe. Like I
said, really nice fellow. I don’t think she was going away with him, if that’s
what you’re asking. Dani was too nice of a gal for that type of nonsense.”

Knowing the elderly woman still lived in
the 1950s in her mind, Carley didn’t correct her. “Well thanks for your time,
Mrs. Buttle. I know it’s late and, again, I apologize for stopping by without
calling first. Dani has given me your number but I was only in town on a quick
trip so I didn’t think to bring it.”

“No bother, honey. No bother at all.” Mrs.
Buttle shuffled away from the door and prepared to close it then her raspy
voice stopped Carley’s descent down the stairs. “You know, now that I think
about it, I remember seeing Dani put a suitcase in the back of her car, but I
can’t remember the exact date.”

Carley allowed herself a brief moment of
relief. “Thanks. She was probably on her way out to surprise me.” She laughed
and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “We’ve both always had lousy timing. Have
a good night, Mrs. Buttle, and thanks again.”

“Dani, please tell me you didn’t really
take off with this Scott guy,” Carley muttered once she was back behind the
wheel of the rental car. “I’d really hate to have to kill you both—you for
scaring the hell out of me and him just on principle.”

With the key in the ignition, she paused.
She’d just realized she might not need Detective Brandon’s services after all.
And here she’d left him a note telling him where to meet her tomorrow night.

Well it would be rude not to show up,
wouldn’t it?

“So she left you a note telling you where
to meet her, and I don’t even have to ask if you’re going to do it.” Dave
slurped his coffee loudly and sank down into his chair. “How do you know she’s
not demented?”

“She doesn’t sound demented, only
uncertain, like she knew what she was doing was wrong but something was forcing
her to do it anyway.”

Dave nodded then cast a glance toward the
closed door of their commander’s office. “Hey, the lieutenant has been asking
what’s going on with you. Guess he’s picking up on your distraction.”

Tension crept up the back of Hunt’s neck
and began to squeeze his forehead. He needed space…air…not another lecture
about trying to work with the lieutenant instead of butt heads with him. If
Hunt could share with his partner what he knew about the man sitting behind the
executive desk a few feet away, there wasn’t any doubt in his mind that Dave
would share his opinion.

He flicked a glance toward the same closed
door while weaving a pencil between his fingers. The familiar debate took up
residence inside his conscience. But it didn’t matter. Silence was the only
option.

“What the hell is it with you and Franklin
anyway?” Dave’s voice invaded his private thoughts. “You’ve had a hard-on for
this guy ever since you got here, like you came onto the job with him on your
shitlist.”

Lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted
shrug, Hunt dragged his gaze away from the door. “We’ve already been over this.
I don’t trust the man. Doubt I ever will.” And that was all he could say, but
not all he wanted to say. A part of him wanted to pull Dave to one side and
just spill everything, but some truths had to be maintained no matter the cost.

“He’s got a squeaky-clean record and made
lieutenant faster than any man in this department. That tells me the guy has to
be doing something right.”

“Or maybe he’s kissed the right asses,”
Hunt shot back.

“Or maybe he’s just a damn good cop.”

“Really? What do you know about his record?
I haven’t heard anything and his jacket is shrouded in secrecy like he found
Jimmy Hoffa’s body. Oh, and I suppose it doesn’t bother you that he was only at
his last command for three months before he transferred here.”

Dave snorted. “Not any more than your
transfer in did. I mean, one day I’m with Detective Brass Balls and the next
you’re here.” He held up one bony hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I much prefer you
over her but if I was going to get suspicious that would have been the time.”

Hunt glared at him, using irritation to
detour the conversation. “Yeah, well, from what I’ve heard, not too many men
want to work with Detective Brellia. She’s a piece of work.”

“Bitch is more like it. If she even thought
you were looking at her tits she’d scream sexual harassment.” Dave snagged a
donut off a passing mail trolley, offering the delivery boy an apologetic grin.

The phone rang and Hunt snatched it up,
relieved he’d dodged another bullet. “Detective Brandon. Right. We’ll be there
in twenty minutes.” Replacing the receiver, he snagged his coat from the back
of his chair. “Time to ride. We’ve got a dump job in the alley behind Shack’s
Steakhouse.”

Dave grabbed his own jacket and stuck his
arms into the sleeves. “This is the second dump job at Shack’s in less than six
months. If this one doesn’t shut the place down, nothing will.”