Tempted by Fate (23 page)

“Willow.”

She woke with a start. She would have bolted upright, but she was caught up in the
tarata.

No—not the
tarata.
It was a warm body that held her pinned down.
Ramirez.

Still breathing heavily, she looked up at him. The whites of his eyes were stark in the darkness. He watched her, observant without betraying any thoughts. A cop’s gaze.

She swallowed and wiggled. He was not only on
top of her, his weight holding her down, but he had her by the wrists so she couldn’t move her arms. “Off,” she said.

“Promise not to try to hit me again.”

She stopped moving. “I tried to hit you?”

“You only got one punch in, though.” He slid off her slowly, resting on his side. “I’d like to believe it’s because I was asleep when you attacked.”

She winced and started to get up. “I can sleep someplace else—”

“I didn’t ask you to leave.” His arm snaked around her and pulled her close, until she was tucked into him, his body spooning hers. “I asked you not to maim me.”

“I think I can manage that.” She relaxed against him, which wasn’t difficult with the way he ran his hand soothingly through her hair.

“Where did you learn to fight?” he asked.

“Mostly, my mother. At least in the beginning. After…” A lump formed in her throat, just like it always did when she thought about that day. “I studied with other random people when I was older, but my mother gave me the foundation for everything I know.”

“Your mother seems unusual.”

She smiled wryly. “That’s one way of looking at her. She didn’t live like most people. She was strong and brave. She did what she had to do.”

“You take after her.”

Did she? It wouldn’t have taken her mother twenty years to find the Bad Man. “I’m not as good as she was,” Willow said finally.

She waited for him to comment on that, but he said nothing. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved he didn’t
offer her false platitudes, or disappointed that he didn’t reassure her.

But then he brushed her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck, and that was better than anything he could have said. “Tell me about your dream.”

She tensed. “It was just a dream.”

“I’m not sure I believe that.” He wrapped his arm around her middle, holding her firmly. “You called out for your mother.”

Great.
She tried to move away from him, but his arm tightened around her. He shifted, resting his weight on her just enough to make her feel secured in place without feeling smothered.

But she did feel trapped by the strange intimacy he was weaving around them. Normally, she would have run—fast and far.

Only, she couldn’t run this time. Even if she had somewhere to go, she didn’t want to leave this spot. She didn’t want to leave him.

That was the scariest thing that had happened to her in forever.

Not wanting to think about that, she focused on the moment, instead—specifically how she felt in his arms. He was hard, nestled behind her. Despite their nearness, she wanted to get closer. Needed to feel his body against hers. She snaked her hand between their bodies to take hold of him.

“Later.” He drew her hand away and held it in his, cradling it against her chest. “I want to hear about your dream.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she said evasively.

“Willow, tell me.”

She closed her eyes, fighting the need to do just that. “Withholding sex for information, Starsky?” she tried to joke, but it fell flat even to her own ears.

He just dropped another barely-there kiss on the nape of her neck.

She sighed, defeated. “Fine. I was dreaming that my mother and I were sparring, and then she ran away and disappeared, and no matter how hard I tried to find her, I couldn’t. Happy?”

He kissed her again, his thumb massaging circles in her palm. She could practically hear him processing. She wondered what he’d make of it.

“How old were you when she died?” he finally asked.

“She was murdered,” Willow corrected, “and I was ten.”

“She didn’t want to leave you.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was taken from you. She wouldn’t have left you if she had a choice.”

Frowning, she wiggled until she had enough room to turn around and face him. His eyes were hooded, and she couldn’t read his thoughts.

He cupped her face. “That’s something to take comfort in, that she loved you and would have stayed with you.”

“I’m not sure we’re just talking about my mother.”

His smile was rueful. “No.”

She ducked her head, not sure how to deal with this. Multiple attackers? Piece of cake. Offering emotional comfort? Unfamiliar, frightening territory.

“I’m not sure which is better. Knowing your mother, but then losing her, or not knowing her at all. Maybe it’s merciful not knowing what you’re missing.” He tucked her head against his chest. “I don’t even remember what
my mother looked like,” he added, almost as though he was talking to himself.

“What happened to her?”

“She left. She was young when she had me, not much more than a child herself.” He caressed the base of her skull with his fingers. “It was the best decision for everyone, but as a kid, you can’t see that.”

“She left you with your grandmother?”

“Yes.”

“At least you had your grandmother.” She hadn’t had anyone. Yes, her mom had arranged a caretaker for her in the event of an emergency, however Willow might as well have been on her own. The woman who’d taken her in was hardly maternal—or caring, for that matter.

“A blessing and a curse,” he said, his voice lightening into teasing amusement. “That woman scared the shit out of me when I was a child.”

Willow smiled. “I can imagine.”

“My friends wouldn’t come over because they were afraid she’d curse them. Looking back, I realize what a good thing that was. I’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, and it prevented me from getting in too deep over my head.” He rested his chin on her head. “Lita saved me.”

Tipping her head back, she looked at his tattoo. “And you spun a new web for yourself.”

He nodded. “Before the one I was weaving trapped me in its grip.”

“You’re lucky you had her.”

“I am.”

She traced the styled circles with the tip of her finger. He was falling into the wrong crowd again, this time with her. “What if your new web trips you up?”

“It won’t.” He speared his fingers in her hair and tipped her head back. “I’d rather wonder if my new web will help me catch what I want.”

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, and she knew he meant he wanted to catch
her.
She just wasn’t clear on why: for a murder suspect, or for himself?

R
amirez awoke pressed up against a taut backside, a mound of whitish-blond hair tickling his face, and a Texas-sized hard-on. He moved the hair and considered the backside, running a hand down the curve of Willow’s hip. In the end, he decided his hard-on could wait until she woke up. She needed more sleep, and he needed to check in with work.

Untangling himself from her, he eased off the bed, stopping to soothe her when she stirred. Satisfied that she’d drifted back to sleep, he retrieved his boxers, grabbed a T-shirt, and used the bathroom down the hall. After washing up, he went downstairs into his office, closed the door, and called his partner.

Taylor answered with his usual good-natured enthusiasm. “Ricky, you’ll never guess what the team found in that woman’s room last night.”

Ramirez scrubbed a hand over his face and sat in the window overlooking his grandmother’s garden. “Tell me.”

“We found a cache of driver’s licenses, passports, and credit cards in what looked like a getaway file. She likes files, because she had others, including one for each of our victims. Pretty incriminating.”

Damn it, Willow.
“What else?”

“Her laptop’s state-of-the-art. Weinberg’s in geek heaven over it. He’s locked himself with it in his office. I don’t want to think about what he’s doing in there.” Taylor shuddered audibly.

“Has he found anything on the computer yet?”

“No. The thing locked down like a virgin the second the kid tried to get in.”

Good.
He’d have to ask Willow about that.

“Hey, Ricky, you know what else?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “What?”

“You sitting down?”

“Just tell me,” he growled.

“She had a dossier on you.” His partner hesitated. “It looks like you were her next victim.”

No, he wasn’t. She didn’t have any intention of killing him, or if she once did, she didn’t anymore. She wouldn’t have been able to give herself to him the way she had last night. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep cocooned in his arms.

Would she?

He gritted his teeth and stared out the window. Was he being a fool, letting his dick lead him around? He’d seen it happen before, with guys on the force. He’d thought those men idiots for risking their solid careers for a woman. He never figured he’d join their ranks.

“Ricky?”

Ramirez frowned, looking down at the garden. Lita was down there, weeding and talking. He looked left to see who she was talking to. Willow, of course. She sat on a stone bench, legs crossed and sipping from one of Lita’s mugs. She wore his sweatshirt and a pair of bottoms she must have found in his drawers. Her hair shined in the sun, glints of gold warming its cool pale. She looked at ease, but on closer inspection, he saw the little bit of stiffness around her shoulders. It couldn’t have been easy chatting with your lover’s grandmother the morning after.

Lover.
He stared at her, wondering what she was to him. She felt like more than a lover. He shook his head. He couldn’t think about that right now. First order of business was to find this Bad Man she kept talking about. Until she was cleared of any potential charges, they didn’t have a future.

“Ricky? You okay, man? You seem distracted. This isn’t like you. What’s going on?”

“Just tired.” He stood. “I have some things to take care of today. You good on your own?”

“Sure,” Taylor said, not sounding too certain.

“Call me if anything comes up.”

“Of course.” He paused. “You’ll tell me if you need help, right? You know I’m here for you.”

“I know. Thank you.” Except he couldn’t drag his partner down with him, if anything went wrong. “Tell May I expect to be invited to dinner soon. It’s been too long.”

“Anytime, Ricky. You know that.” His partner hung up.

Ramirez didn’t miss the double meaning behind Taylor’s parting words, which was why he was going to do
everything he could to keep him out of this. Setting the phone down, he walked through the kitchen and out the back door to the garden.

Both women looked up when they heard him coming down the stairs, Lita with her usual love and genuine pleasure in seeing him, and Willow with cautious desire. He wondered if she even realized it.

Eyes on Willow, he went to his grandmother and kissed her upraised cheek. “Good morning.”

“Is it still morning?” Lita teased.

He arched his brow.

She returned the look, a knowing half smile curling her lips before she returned her attention to the plants. “Your young lady and I were just getting to know each other. She knows a fair amount about shrubbery and trees, but her knowledge of herbs is lacking. No doubt because her mother didn’t have time to complete her education.”

He noticed the way Willow’s face went blank at the mention of her mother. She’d said her mother had been killed, but not how or why. He couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that plowed through him at the idea that Willow had spoken to his
abuelita
about her mother. He wondered if she’d tell him. He realized it was important to him for her to want to tell him, and he sighed.

When Willow spoke, her tone was light. “Despite what it looks like, I’m not certain the inspector would call me his lady, young or otherwise.”