Legal Heat (30 page)

“Then what happened?”

Mark took a deep breath. “James and I had been friends before my mother died. After I hit the streets, he didn’t give up on me. Every day he hunted me down and tried to get me to go home with him. I told him I was just another bad kid destined for a life of crime. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He came looking for me that day, same as every day…found me bleeding in an alley…called his Dad. They saved my life in more ways than one.”

Katy pulled herself up, sliding her body along his. His shaft stirred to life as her mound brushed over his sensitive flesh.

“I’m glad they did.” She pressed her lips against his in a slow, sweet kiss that took his breath away. He palmed her head and pulled her closer.

“So am I.”

“Sounds like you have at least one friend.” Her voice took on a teasing note and she pulled away. Mark grabbed her hips to stop her sliding back down and setting him off.

“Any others?”

“The partners,” he rasped.
Fucking hard to concentrate
. “A few guys from the club.”

“And me?” she whispered. “Am I your friend?” She pushed herself all the way down until her lips hovered over his shaft.

Mark groaned as she circled her tongue over the tip. “Sugar, you’re a whole lot more than that.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Lana froze when a hand knocked on her driver’s side window. A face peered in. A familiar face. Devilishly handsome.

What the hell is he doing here?

She rolled down the window and sighed loudly for effect. “Yes?”

“Well, look who it is. My favorite PI.”

Lana glared into amused blue eyes. “James.”

“Detective Hunter to you.”

She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “So formal. I thought we were friends since we know each other from the sex club. What can I do for you, Detective Hunter?”

“I suppose it depends on what kind of trouble you’re in today.”

“No trouble. Just sitting here, minding my own business. What about you? What are you doing here? Just walking down the street at seven in the morning, looking for litter? Or maybe you haven’t shouted at any PIs today and needed your fix.”

His jaw twitched and he flashed his badge in her face. “Patrolling a police restricted area.”

Lana waved the badge away. “You don’t need to show me your badge. I know you’re a cop. Or are you trying to turn me on? I have to admit I have a thing for detectives in tight jeans and kick ass biker T-shirts.”

He chuckled. “And I have a thing for sassy PIs who keep turning up where they aren’t supposed to be. Step out of the car please.”

She left the safety of her Jetta, and he motioned for her to put her hands on the hood.

Lana sighed and took the required position. “Is this really necessary? I’m just doing my job.”

“Feet apart.”

She widened her legs. A sudden wave of heat crashed through her. Sweat trickled between her breasts. What the hell? She should be afraid. She had just been caught by a cop with one hell of an attitude. Yet her body had other ideas.

“James? Are you going to frisk me or what?”

Silence.

She peered over her shoulder. He stood directly behind her, his eyes fixed on… “Hey, are you staring at my ass?”

“Did you just call me James?”

She swallowed dryly. “A slip of the tongue. But since you have me in this position, and you’ve been staring at my ass, we might as well drop the formalities.”

His gaze lifted to her own, his face expressionless. Well, not quite. His lips quivered. “I should have spanked you at the club. Might have taught you to hold that tongue. They have a special room in the back for lessons in discipline and restraint.”

Phwoar
. Lana bit through her lip. After following Katy to the club, she knew all about the back room. Fantasized about it constantly. James had been part of those fantasies. Every. Damn. One. And now was he saying…?

Don’t go there.

“You even think about laying a finger on this ass and I’ll have you on the ground so fast you won’t know what hit you.” Lana swayed, glad she’d decided to wear her most flattering yoga pants for the morning stakeout. “This ass is by invitation only.”

She gave herself a mental kick and lifted her hands off the vehicle.
Stop sassing the cop
.

“Stay where you are,” he barked. He leaned into her car and fished around the front seat, finally pulling out her camera and notebook. “We’re going to have a more serious conversation today, by which I mean you’re going to answer my questions.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Don’t push me, Lana.”

Did he just use my name?

He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. Firm but not hard. A tingle ran down her spine. A nice tingle.

“Hey, police brutality,” she joked.

He yanked harder and her neck cracked. “
That
is police brutality, sweetheart.”

“Okay, okay. Just let me go.” She strained to look around. So far, the street had been surprisingly empty for the morning rush hour. No one to save her from the dangerously handsome cop with a penchant for pain.

He released her hair and her head flopped forward, almost hitting the Jetta’s rusted hood.

“I’m not a criminal, you know. You don’t need to get rough with me.” She paused and wiggled her ass. “Unless you want to.”

“Christ, Lana. Don’t push me. Turn around.” He had such a sexy voice. Low and husky with a hint of a rasp. The kind of voice she imagined whispering sensual promises in her ear at night.

Lana spun to face him. He was wearing a pair of worn, low-slung jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a black T-shirt with a Harley Davidson logo on the front. His face, his clothes and his stance all screamed danger. Her mouth watered.

Don’t look at the package. Don’t look at the package.

Oh my!

“You’ve now become embroiled in a police investigation,” he said. “You have a professional responsibility to assist. If you don’t want to talk to me, you can go down to the station and give your statement to one of my colleagues.”

She lifted her eyes from his package, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “No station. Ask away. How do you want me? Sitting? Standing? Or do you want me to assume the position again so you can question me and stare at my ass?”

Watch the mouth, Lana.

But she couldn’t. Something about this cop drew out the worst of her sass. And he liked it. She could see it in the quiver of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, and the quickened beat of the pulse in his neck.

“Just so you understand. I ask the questions. You answer. And you’ll keep that mouth of yours under control.”

Her heart sank. Maybe she had pushed too far. “Sure thing.”

Lana leaned against her Jetta and rubbed her head while he pulled out his notebook and clicked his pen.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes focused like laser beams on the gentle movement of her hand.

“Your demonstration of police brutality was very effective.”

Regret flared in his eyes. “Had to get your attention.”

“It’s okay. I’ve suffered worse and enjoyed better.”

He studied her intently and his lips parted. For a second she thought he might ask her what she meant, and she silently berated herself for the slip. She had buried her past years ago. Why her subconscious had dredged it up now, she didn’t know.

He shook his head, an almost imperceptible gesture, as if he was annoyed at himself. “I have your pictures. I know you’ve been following Katy Sinclair. Who are you working for?”

“I don’t actually know. He calls himself Mr. S. We did the transaction over the phone. He sent a key to my office. I drop my reports in a post box and he picks them up and leaves cash.”

“Risky, not knowing your client.”

She shrugged. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of a steady income. When was the last time you had cereal for dinner?”

A smile ghosted his lips.
Ha
. She could get under anybody’s skin.

“How long have you been following her?” James tapped his pen on his pad.

“About two weeks.”

“I’ll need the key, address of the postal unit and the box number.”

“In my bag in the car. Do I get compensated for premature termination of my contract?”

He reached into the vehicle, retrieved her backpack and dropped it on the hood of the Jetta. Lana winced when he pulled out her spare panties along with her iPod, a box of cookies, a toothbrush and a box of condoms.

“You always come prepared?” His mouth twitched as he held up the condoms.

Lana smiled and winked, determined to get him to crack a smile. “Just a box this time, not a full bag
.
”

He snorted and looked away. “You won’t be terminating the contract with your Mr. S. You’ll continue doing your job until we’ve identified him. I’ll make a copy of the key and have it returned to you.”

Lana grinned. “So I’m like a double agent?”

“You’re like a very green PI who is in a lot of trouble and should be grateful to have been caught by a cop with better things to do.”

Her gut twisted. Better things to do must mean hunting for the shooter since he was hanging around outside the building. Lana twirled her hair around her finger. “Is she okay?”

His eyes bored into her skull. “Were you there when she was shot?”

”I was across the street.”

“Did you see the shooter?” His eyes sparked with interest.

“I didn’t see his face. I saw where he was standing, and I took some pictures of him running away.”

A frown creased his brow. “Did you give a statement to the attending police?”

Lana shook her head. “I was too upset at the time. Plus, Mr. S gave me special instructions not to let her out of my sight. I had to find out where they were taking her. When I went home and downloaded the pictures I didn’t think anyone would want them. They weren’t very good. My hands were shaking so bad at the time they were all blurry…and I dropped the camera. ”

He scrawled something on his notepad, ripped off the paper and handed it to her along with his card. “Looks like you get a trip to the station after all. Ask for Joanna Smith. You’ll need to bring your camera and memory card. She’ll also need your key and the details of the postal outfit. Oh, and your phone. We’ll try to trace the calls you had with your Mr. S.”

He rounded her vehicle and copied her license plate number into his notebook. “If you’re not there in an hour, I’ll obtain a warrant for your arrest. Are we clear?”

Lana sighed. “Sure.”

His eyes softened. “I know it must have been hard to watch. If you need to talk to someone, there are victim support counselors—”

She held up her hand and cut him off. “I’m good. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’ve dealt with some pretty heavy stuff. I haven’t led what you would call a sheltered life.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “You know…if you change your mind, you can call me. I’ve been through…heavy stuff too.”

“Okay,” she murmured. “Thanks, Detective Hunter.”

He finally cracked a smile. “You can call me James.”

Chapter Seventeen

Katy awoke with a start.

Light filtered through the window blinds, illuminating the sleeping form beside her.

Mark
.

Mark’s apartment. Mark’s bed.

She desperately needed to pee. Moving quietly so she didn’t wake him, she slipped out of the covers and left the room. Traffic crawled through the streets below. She checked the giant clock over the fireplace. Eight a.m. She should be at work.

After attending to her needs, she found her purse and pulled out her Blackberry. Six days and 800 messages worth of work awaited her at the office. She scanned quickly through her emails and found a message from her secretary about a phone call from Julia Davidson. Julia had changed her mind and would speak to Katy but only at eleven this morning.

Damn.
Mark would never let her go. He had woken her half a dozen times to make sure she was okay. Exhaustion had finally dragged him into a deep sleep in the early hours of the morning. Maybe she could go and come back before he woke up.

She gave herself a physical check. Shoulder still throbbing, body still aching, head still pounding. Dizzy. Good enough for work.

She stuffed the Blackberry in her purse and found her clothes neatly folded on the hall bench. Shirt from the hospital, now missing several buttons. Blood-stained skirt, missing one button. No bra or panties. Blood-stained heels. Very professional. All set for a witness interview.

She rubbed down the shoes and secured her clothing with a few safety pins from her briefcase. Then she tiptoed toward the door.

“Going somewhere?”

Startled, Katy gasped and spun around. Mark leaned against the wall, arms folded, biceps bulging, six-pack rippling. Thank God he’d put on a pair of gym pants. Her brain ceased functioning the minute he stripped off his clothes.