InTooDeep Page 2

  “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 th
ing 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 hel
l 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.”