InTooDeep

  In Too Deep

  Rachel Carrington

  Carley Morgan is desperate to find her kidnapped sister—and the man responsible. To do that, she’ll first have to find someone she can trust who works inside the law. Someone willing to trust a thief—because that’s what Carley is, a thief whose skills have earned her top dollar. But those skills won’t help her convince Detective Hunt Brandon she needs him.

  Hunt doesn’t trust easily, and the sexy redhead who broke into his house isn’t earning any points. Once he discovers who Carley really is, he knows he should arrest her. But the more he learns, the more he suspects they’re both hunting the same person. They can help each other find the truth and put an end to an unspeakable crime ring.

  Sparks igniting between them, Carley and Hunt soon find the situation even more dangerous when their feelings threaten to risk the investigation. And when danger turns to long, hot nights, they both could end up on the wrong side of a bullet.

  In Too Deep

  Rachel Carrington

  Chapter One

  A loud boom of thunder and the unmistakable knowledge he was no longer alone woke Hunt Brandon from a sound, and for the first time in weeks, dreamless sleep. The bedside clock read three a.m. Shit. He’d only been in bed a couple of hours.

  Something clinked. Keys, maybe? Whatever it was, it wasn’t a normal sound, especially considering he lived alone…and preferred it that way. His hand slipped beneath his pillow and closed around cold steel. Reassured that he was still in control of the situation, he made sure the clip was in place. Rolling to his feet, he crouched down beside his bed and scooted toward the wall beside the door.

  Soft footsteps were barely discernible but to Hunt they sounded a jackhammer pounding against concrete. His partner accused him of having ears like an elephant and, in this instance, he was more than grateful for the exceptional hearing he’d inherited from his mother.

  His eyes accustomed to the darkness, he saw the brass handle turn. The door swept open without a hint of sound. Hunt waited. If his sleep was going to be interrupted, it was going to be for a hell of a lot more than just an unlawful entry collar.

  Go ahead, buddy. Make your move. I can have the bracelets on you and a patrol car here in less than five minutes. And, hopefully, he’d manage a couple more hours of shuteye.

  Dressed in black to fade into the darkness, the figure moved into the room with an economy of motion. A thin beam of light swept across the top of Hunt’s dresser until it fell on his wallet and shield. Tucking the flashlight beneath one arm, the figure picked up his wallet simultaneously with the twist of Hunt’s wrist that switched on the bedside lamp.

  Weapon trained on his uninvited guest, he stood. “Put the wallet down slowly and raise your hands in the air.” With reflexes born out of years of intense practice, he flexed his grip on the gun, anticipating the intruder’s next move.

  The figure hesitated but the slide of the clip made compliance the only choice. With a sound of frustration his uninvited visitor dropped the leather trifold to the dresser and extended hands in the air.

  Hunt reached for the handcuffs on the bedside table. “Now turn around and remove the mask. I like to look my unexpected guests in the eye.”

  Fingers encased in black leather gloves caught the bottom of the black face mask and tugged it upward. A wealth of vibrant, copper-colored hair spilled across slender shoulders and, as Hunt’s mouth fell open, the intruder tossed her head back, revealing a porcelain face and eyes as green as polished emeralds.

  He almost grinned. So that was why the footsteps had been minimal. Though the woman was tall and curvy, she held herself with a grace that couldn’t be anything other than natural. A gymnast maybe? Definitely athletic.

  “You’re staring at me.” The voice, a husky drawl, brought his gaze to her face.

  “I think I’m entitled. You broke into my home.”

  “Actually, I didn’t have to break in. You should remember to lock your doors.”

  He hadn’t forgotten to lock his door, but then, he hadn’t actually expected a thief, no matter how beautiful, to admit to a crime. With a grunt, he tossed the silver bracelets in her direction. “Put those on and then tell me your name.”

  She snapped the handcuffs into place with an efficiency that told him she’d done it before. “Is that usually the first thing you do when someone breaks into your house? Ask a name?”

  Her carefree attitude spoke volumes. This wasn’t a woman who was intimidated by a cop. And since she hadn’t bolted from his bedroom at the first glimpse of his badge, he figured she’d probably crossed paths with one or two detectives in her time.

  “Considering no one’s had the balls to break in here before, that’s not a question I can answer.”

  “You mean because you’re a cop? Is that supposed to deter people?”

  “I don’t advertise my profession on my front door.”

  She lifted one shoulder, a careless shrug designed to irritate. It almost succeeded. “It doesn’t matter. Everything about you screams cop.”

  “To most criminals, yeah.”

  Her full lips curved into a smile. “Is that what you think I am?”

  “Lady, you broke into my home. I believe your presence supports that allegation. Now I’ll ask you again, what’s your name?”

  “And if I refuse to tell you, Detective Brandon? Are you going to arrest me?”

  “I’m going to do that either way.” He glanced around the room, his mind beginning a slow spin. “You know, most burglars start with the stuff they see in the first room they come to. Since you didn’t, I’m assuming you’re after something else. You want to tell me what that is before I read you your rights?”

  “Not particularly.” The two words were clipped.

  “Fine. Then we can do this in an interrogation room with weak coffee and bright lights.”

  She took a step toward him. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I won’t be able to join you.”

  “Not one more move,” he threatened, lifting the nose of the gun in warning. Dammit, he didn’t want to have to shoot her. That tight lycra clinging to her curves without a doubt concealed a body that was damn near perfect. It’d be a shame to scar it.

  Continuing to smile, she lowered her arms to shoulder level. “You don’t really want to arrest me, Detective. In fact, you want to know more about me. I can see that much in your eyes, and putting me behind bars won’t serve your purpose.”

  She had a point but he was still a cop. And she’d just committed a crime. Duty screamed loudly in his ear. “Just tell me why you’re here. You don’t have a gun so I’m assuming you didn’t come here in a half-assed attempt to kill me. And you don’t look stupid so I can’t imagine you’d really consider doing that anyway.”

  Tipping her head to one side, she studied him with green eyes that seemed to glow in the meager light offered by the lamp. “I suppose I could tell you that much but this isn’t exactly how I planned our first conversation.”

  “Improvise.”

  The slight tipping of her lips told him she found his retort amusing, though he saw something in her eyes…a touch of pain, maybe? “Okay, fine. You have something I need.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “That’s a different approach.”

  She made a sound in the back of her throat. “Not sex.”

  “Damn my luck.” He was starting to enjoy the dialogue, and his guard slipped another notch—along with his gun.

  Apparently, just the moment she’d been waiting for. She leaped forward and her feet landed solidly in the center of his chest. The force of the blow rocketed him backward, flinging him onto the mattress.

  He pushed himself off, adrenaline pumping through his veins like high-octane. With one swipe of her hand she took out
the light and darkness claimed the room. He took a moment to regain his bearings but she wasn’t waiting.

  She caught him across the cheek with a swift uppercut left hook. Damn. She hit like a man. With a string of curses he stumbled back, staggering across the carpet. Two feet caught him in the solar plexus again, slamming against his ribs like a baseball bat. The breath ripped from his lungs, he dropped to his knees and tried to suck in necessary oxygen.

  The beautiful redhead didn’t wait around to see if she’d killed him. Instead she burst out of the bedroom and down the hallway, her movements as quick as the flame of a lighter. Seconds later he heard the thump of the front door.

  Shit. For the first time in his life he’d been bested by a woman. That didn’t sit too well with him but what made matters worse, he’d liked the physical contact. In his line of work he met a lot of female victims and few aggressors. So meeting one who could knock him on his ass definitely upped his curiosity.

  She’d definitely been right about one thing—he didn’t want her behind bars, not before he knew just what it was she wanted from him. For all he knew, it might be something he’d enjoy.

  Carley’s blood still hummed with the aftereffects of her nocturnal visit to Detective Brandon’s home. It had been quite a while since she’d used the simple basics she’d learned from her father. Usually she preferred to rely on technology but she wasn’t surprised to find the rush was still there for the old ways.

  But beyond that was the image of the man’s face still imprinted on her brain. God, he was attractive. With dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders and an absolutely fabulous set of abs, he was definitely going to make this job a bit easier. Down, girl. You’re not here for sex…at least not yet…not until you know what’s going on with Dani.

  A single schoolteacher who rarely dated, Dani was Carley’s kid sister, and up until three days ago they’d talked every day, sometimes more than once. Then Dani had become unreachable. No returned phone calls and no answers. After seventy-two hours Carley’s internal radar had gone into overdrive and she’d taken a red-eye from New York to Charleston.

  Her cell phone trilled and she pulled it out of her purse.

  “Carley, thank God. Where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Janet’s voice held a note of censure. Carley’s right hand, Janet prided herself on running a tight ship. Ordinarily nothing got past her so her disapproval didn’t come as a surprise.

  “I’m in Charleston.”

  “South Carolina?” Janet’s voice edged up a notch. “Is something wrong with Dani?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s probably nothing but I wanted to check.” Pushing herself off the bed, Carley walked alongside the paneled bar in the hotel room that screamed wealth and whispered discretion. Sitting adjacent to the Battery in downtown Charleston, the classy Barrister Hotel afforded travelers and vacationers an extraordinary view of the Atlantic Ocean and, though most probably weren’t interested in this additional sight, a panoramic glimpse of the local police department.

  Carley couldn’t have asked for a better room, although the one hundred dollar bill she’d slipped the clerk had, no doubt, afforded her the accommodations that met her exact specifications.

  Silence stretched across the line and Carley could practically see the wheels turning in her assistant’s head. “How long will you be there?”

  “I’m not sure about that, either.”

  “You do realize we have a job Friday, right?”

  Carley almost laughed at the “we”. In truth, she had a job to do. Though by now she’d managed to amass a tidy fortune, Carley had resisted Janet’s repetitive suggestions to hire a team. Maybe it had something to do with the adrenaline rush or just the memories of her father. Either way, she still risked her freedom at least once a month.

  “Carley?”

  “I’m here.” But Carley had already begun to drift from the conversation. She didn’t want to talk or worry about Friday’s job, not when she had no clue if her sister had gotten herself into some kind of trouble. “We may have to postpone Friday.”

  “Postpone? Carley, it’s not a business meeting. The target will be available on Friday only. With the Forresters out of town until Saturday morning it’s the perfect time to acquire the merchandise, and we already have a buyer.”

  Trying to massage away a beginning migraine, Carley stood at the window, staring out at the glittering lights reflecting off the ocean. “I know, but I haven’t heard from Dani in three days. I’m not leaving here until I know what’s happened to her.”

  “And what am I supposed to tell your client?” The bark of disapproval sent Carley’s temper soaring.

  “Tell him he’ll get the damn painting when I get it.” She ended the conversation, knowing she’d call later and apologize to Janet. For now she needed a few hours’ sleep before she made her next connection with the detective.

  En route to the bed, she made a quick detour by the bar and poured herself a shot of straight scotch. Staring up at her from a silver frame was Dani’s innocent gaze. The alcohol burned in her stomach like an untamed fire. Carley slammed the glass down onto the countertop and whirled away.

  “Dammit, Dani, where in the hell are you?”

  Hunt’s nighttime visitor, the bruises she left behind and his subsequent inability to sleep even another ten minutes let alone the four hours he’d been going for, hadn’t placed him in the best of moods. Walking across the tiled floors of the precinct, his gaze shielded behind a pair of dark lenses, he ignored the cheerful greetings that only made him grumpier. Seeking sanctuary behind his desk, he slumped over the scarred wood and flipped through the stack of active files on his desk.

  “Good morning!” Dave Papolnia was a morning person, and Hunt had always considered it a glaring sign of their former lieutenant’s sick sense of humor that he’d placed the two of them together. “Hey, I brought you some cappuccino. You’ve got to try this kind.”

  Hunt’s sunglasses dropped to the desktop. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t drink fancy coffee before it’s going to sink in?”

  “What’s wrong with you? You look even worse than normal. Rough night?”

  “You could say that.” He kicked away from the desk and began rifling through the stack of files on the floor. “Did I get any calls from a woman yesterday, maybe someone who didn’t leave a message?”

  Dave considered the question while blowing across the heated liquid in his cup. “Not that I can recall. Why?”

  “Because I had an uninvited guest last night…a woman.”

  “Uh-oh. Did the stick turn blue?”

  “Very funny.” Hunt dragged a hand through his thick hair and straightened. “I’m being serious.”

  Dave, lips still pursed, lifted his head to look at him. “Well what did she want?”

  “She didn’t hang around long enough to tell me.”

  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 h
and. “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?”