InTooDeep Read online

  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.”

  “That place will still be standing long after you and I both are gone. It’s got history.” Hunt shoved his hand against the glass-plated door.

  “Brandon, Polponia, wait up!” The shift commander, short, balding and a few pounds overweight, huffed over to them. “Lieutenant says you two should take this. He’s passed the dump job to Detectives Johnson and Ringwald.” He handed off a note and returned to his desk at a much slower pace.

  Dave shrugged and followed Hunt out into the sunlight. “You know, for a guy who’s only been in town for a little over a year, you know a helluva lot about our landmarks. Why is that?”

  “I’m a history buff.”

  “Yeah, and I’m a big Barbra Streisand fan.”

  Reaching the car, Hunt walked around to the driver’s seat. “What are you trying to say? You got questions about me, just ask.”

  “And I’m sure you’ll be just as forthcoming as your mystery lady.” Dave settled himself in the passenger seat. “So do you want to tell me the whole scoop now or am I going to have to find it out myself? ‘Cause I have to tell you, partner, this thing with you and Franklin makes me more than a little nervous.”

  Silence greeted the question, compelling Dave to push on. “Did I mention that in a few more years I can retire to a rickety trailer on the edge of town with my piddly pension and a stack of Playboy magazines? You get my ass killed and I’m not going to be too happy with you. I’ve already started looking at trailers.” He grinned to lighten the mood but Hunt knew it was only his way of letting the subject drop for now.

  Hunt started the engine. “You need to learn how to relax, Papolnia.” Even as he said the words he couldn’t take his own advice. He spent the better part of his day on alert, which was why his mystery lady’s nocturnal visits weren’t helping. He didn’t need one more thing to keep him on edge.

  “Okay, fine. You don’t want to talk about why you hate the lieutenant so much then let’s get back to talking about this woman friend of yours.”

  “She’s not a friend.” Hunt shifted the vehicle into reverse. “And you know as much about her as I do.”

  Dave wiggled on the seat until he was facing his partner. “Well if she’s in some kind of trouble why doesn’t she go to the police like an ordinary person would? Ordinary people do not break into a detective’s house to get his attention. Ordinary people go through the proper channels.” His voice went an octave higher, as it had a tendency to do when his anxiety was riding high.

  Hunt rolled the window down to let in the fresh air. He sliced his partner a reassuring look. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe she has gone to the police?”

  “Then why isn’t there a report?”

  “There could be for all I know. She hasn’t given me her name.” But she didn’t look like the type who would stroll into the police station anyway. No, she was definitely a take-charge person. Why else would she have abandoned all sense of right and wrong to break into his home?

  “Let’s just focus on this case. We can talk about my mystery lady later.”

  “You mean after you meet her tonight and put yourself in the line of fire.”

  “If she wanted to kill me she would have made the attempt the first night.”

  “You know,” Dave waggled a finger to emphasize his next point, “it would stand to reason that, given the uncertainty of this situation, you would want to involve the lieutenant, maybe turn this into a, what do you call it? I hate when I forget what it’s called.” He snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, a police investigation.”

  “If I do that she’ll get arrested.” No. He didn’t want the redhead behind bars, no matter her current method of gaining entrance to his home. There was just something about her that made him not want to take that step.

  “That’s generally what we do to criminals, yes.” Dave tapped the badge hooked to his belt. “That is why they give us these things, you know.”

  “I’ve already told you I’m going to do this alone for now. She didn’t break into my house because she’s a criminal. She broke in because she wants my help.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I could tag along if you want.”

  “Thanks, but I think I can handle this.”

  “Well just be careful. Stay on guard. Whatever this woman wants can’t be aboveboard if she’s too scared to go to the police in the normal way.”

  It wasn’t like Hunt hadn’t thought about that. There was, no doubt, more than an air of mystery about his night visitor. She wanted his help and there was a reason why she couldn’t go to the police to get it.

  Which, under ordinary circumstances, would have sent his sense of self-preservation into overdrive. But he didn’t get a feeling of danger, no matter how secretive she was being.

  Whatever this woman was, she wasn’t a threat to him. Well she didn’t want to kill him anyway. But there were a helluva a lot more ways she could fuck up his life.

  The file lay open on her bed, pictures detailing Detective Brandon’s home and life. Carley viewed each one as carefully as she’d walked through his home the previous evening. Though she was feeling considerably better about Dani’s disappearance, she’d mulled over Mrs. Buttle’s last-minute announcement in her mind and something just didn’t feel right about it. It was entirely possible Carley was just feeling a little paranoid but she couldn’t leave without hearing from her sister.

  And since this Detective Hunt Brandon was adept at finding people, it couldn’t hurt to stick with her original plan. And if she wanted a little more from him than just his help, she couldn’t possibly be faulted for that.

  Carley returned her attention to the glossy photos, each of which revealed a bit more about the detective—the wall lined with accolades and medals of merit, the gold trophy that proclaimed him player of the year for the city’s softball league and the row of dark suits hanging in his bedroom closet. And not the cheap suits either. They were tailor-made, expensive. That bit of information made her pause. How in the hell could a detective afford those types of suits?

  She dropped the photograph and moved on to the others. The hardwood floors were polished to a gleaming shine and looked almost unused. The winding staircase led up to four bedrooms and she’d visited every one. Nothing special in any of them.

  The gourmet kitchen with gleaming appliances and clutter-free counters had surprised her. Copper pots hung from plant hooks above the pine island and green, healthy ivy wrapped around the shelf above the sink—a kitchen made for family gatherings. The room didn’t fit with the man. She just couldn’t imagine him in an apron making waffles on a Sunday morning.

  She smiled at the image and lowered the pictures. Thumbing through the reports, she familiarized herself with the knowledge the pieces of paper offered once more. She’d spent more time than she should have finding out what she knew about Detective Hunt Brandon and so far every piece of information had been accurate, even down to the number of awards hanging on his walls.

  Those reminders formed a tight knot in the pit of her stomach and made her question her decision. How in the hell was she supposed to convince a cop with so many accolades to help her, especially once she revealed her identity?

  Checking the time on the digital clock beside her bed, she sighed. The minutes ticked by, drawing the time closer to their meeting, and while a part of her wanted to bail out, to just fade away without any further contact, another part, that feminine part which was screaming the loudest, wanted much more than just verbal contact.

  Hell, she might as well see this through to the end. If nothing else she’d have some damn good stories to tell Dani.

  Chapter Three

  Hunt squatted down beside the old woman’s body. “Single bullet wound to the head. No other signs of physical trauma.”

  “And no sig
ns of forced entry.” Dave walked around the living room. “This place looks spic-and-span too. The uniforms are out knocking on some doors but this looks professional to me.”

  “I was thinking the same thing, but who takes a hit out on a woman closing in on eighty?”

  “Maybe we’ll get something off fingerprints. Tech said he found a couple of good ones on the door. ‘Course that could be anyone from a delivery boy to the mailman.”

  More crime scene investigators made their way across the carpet with white protective liners covering their feet. They spoke in low, hushed tones as if afraid of disturbing the woman’s final rest.

  A loud scream brought Hunt to his feet and had Dave whirling around. While two officers tried to restrain her, an elderly lady struggled and sobbed, pointing toward the deceased.

  “Guys, it’s okay. We’ll talk to her.” Hunt approached the lady and gently guided her to the closest chair, a tattered recliner with a paisley knitted blanket thrown over one arm. “Ma’am, did you know the victim?”

  The woman continued to sob hysterically, her arthritic finger waving. She snagged a handful of Hunt’s shirt and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  Hunt wrapped a gentle arm around the woman’s shoulder and offered her what comfort he could. Over the years, death hardened him a little, made him just a bit more jaded, but there were times like this when he remembered his first days on the job, when he didn’t just see a dead body as a victim.

  “She was my friend,” the elderly lady finally managed to whisper.

  Hunt eased back to see her face, offered her a tissue passed to him by a nearby officer. “We haven’t found her ID yet, ma’am. Could you give us her name?”

  Red-rimmed eyes pinned Hunt with a surprisingly sharp look. “Her name is Maggie. Maggie Buttle.”

  “How could you have let this happen?” Rena propped her hands on her hips. “How many times do I have to tell you we only take girls with no family?” She snapped out each word.

  Lieutenant Darrell Franklin swallowed the tight ball in his throat and tried to think. It was always difficult to do when Rena was near. She was incredibly beautiful but there was more to her than just her beauty. There was just something about her, something magnetic that rendered him speechless when she moved into his personal space.

  “We checked her background like we always do, Rena, but we didn’t have any way of knowing she’d changed her name.”

  “Or that her sister would come looking for her?”

  “We’ve got this covered.” Franklin hated the feeling he got sometimes when Rena disapproved of him. She could make him feel small, inefficient, with just a look from those smoky eyes.

  She approached him on lethal high heels. Her fingers inched up the silk tie he wore to the knot and, for a brief moment, he wondered if she was going to tighten it. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. The old lady said exactly what we told her to say, just played it perfectly. Almost like she didn’t give a damn that my guys were in there.”

  “Your guys?” Rena gave a little laugh. “They’re my guys, Franklin. Never forget that.” She tapped her finger to his nose. “And if you ever make another fuck-up like this one I’ll be short one guy.”

  Franklin wanted to push her away but Rena was a powerful woman with an even more powerful husband, and he didn’t doubt both of them could make his life very miserable—or end it altogether.

  “It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t, but there are a few more tracks to cover don’t you think?” She folded her arms, the gesture adding more cleavage. “We can’t have this sister making waves. Get me the specifics and then I’ll decide what we should do about her. Who knows? We might be able to turn this into a two-for-one special.”

  “You’re late.” The quiet voice brought him to his feet.

  Hunt whipped around. How in the hell had she crept up on him like that? What had happened to his internal alarm? He cleared his throat. “So are you.” He didn’t tell her he’d driven like he’d been riding in a stolen car in an attempt to get there on time.

  She was dressed in the black Lycra pantsuit again. The material molded to her curves, hiding very little from his zealous imagination. Her hair fell around her shoulders in glossy waves and beneath the light of the moon her face glowed. Damn. She was a beautiful woman, and as much as he needed to keep his mind on his job, she was going to make it difficult.

  “Actually, I’ve been here for quite some time. I like to arrive early, gives me a chance to scope out the area.” Her voice stirred him, tying his stomach in a knot.

  “I hear that’s common among criminals.” Hunt’s hand rested on the butt of his gun but he hadn’t taken his eyes off her face. Heat emanated from her in waves, drawing him in, pushing back any resistance he had left.

  She smiled and turned her back on him to walk toward the lighted gazebo. “You won’t need your weapon, Detective. I didn’t come here to kill or maim you.”

  He didn’t drop his hand. “Maybe that’s not why I feel the need for it.” The woman didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated by his size or demeanor. Or the fact that he was a cop. Most criminals went out of their way to avoid interacting with police officers—a fact that only added to his belief that she wasn’t a criminal.

  He followed her up the concrete steps, stopping as he reached the top. “Why here?” That’s right, Brandon. Keep the tone conversational. Easier to catch her off-guard. Then he could take her down if necessary.

  She didn’t look over her shoulder as she walked toward one of the painted white pillars. “I thought you would feel safer in a public place.”

  “Safer?” Irritation warred with the attraction. Did this woman really think she scared him? Okay so she’d taken him down once, but he doubted any male cop wouldn’t have been surprised to find this woman in his bedroom. So the lowering of his defenses had only been natural.

  She turned to face him and smiled, full lips parting to reveal even, white teeth. “Was it your intention to arrest me tonight?”

  Her voice had changed, become edgier. Just like that his attention snapped back into focus. If there was ever a time when he needed his wits it was now. God only knew what this woman was capable of.

  “Not really, but it would be a bonus.” His handcuffs hung at the back of his belt, and he reached back to feel the cool metal. “I’ve had a really long day so do you want to make it easy on yourself and me? It’ll save us both a lot of time.”

  “No, I don’t think I can do that.” She leaned against the column, which was weathered with age. “I didn’t arrange this meeting so you could arrest me for B&E, Detective.”

  Damn. She sounded so controlled, almost calculating, making him wonder if his instincts had failed him. Maybe she was really a criminal and he’d just missed it somehow.

  “I never expected you did. You’ve had ample opportunity to turn yourself in these last two days. Since that isn’t what you’re looking to do, maybe you could tell me what it is you do want without making any more uninvited entrances into my home. At the very least you could tell me your name.” Maybe if he started with the little things she really would lower her guard, give him a chance to find out what she was really all about.

  “You can call me Carley.”

  “At least that’s a start.”

  She folded her arms across her breasts, pushing them up to the top of her suit. “You have a beautiful house, by the way.”

  Hunt didn’t respond to the compliment. His gaze swept her from head to toe, lingering on the plush mounds before dropping to her sleek curves. Blood roared in his ears. The woman was addictive and probably just as lethal as a drug. And he trusted her about as much as he trusted a rabid wolf.

  “You’re wondering why I asked you to meet me here when I’ve gone out of my way to keep you from catching up with me.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind, yes.” He forced himself to focus but the light breeze caught the scent of her perfume. It dri
fted toward him, wrapping him in the succulent aromas of Asian spices and sun-dappled skin.

  He thought his body couldn’t get any harder but then he realized her eyes had dropped to his crotch. His flesh swelled as her gaze lingered there for a long moment. The collar of his shirt grew tighter, suffocating him, but he didn’t tug it away from his skin. Instead he trained his gaze on her face, watching her eyes move from his lips back down his body in a long, leisurely look.

  She licked full, tinted lips and tilted her face up toward the ceiling of the gazebo. “You’re attracted to me, Detective.”

  “Aren’t most men?” He wouldn’t deny the obvious.

  A laugh filtered into the darkness. “I’m not interested in most men.”

  Every muscle in Hunt’s body coiled with sexual tension, and in that moment he forgot about duty, honor, the law, everything but what he wanted most. Her. Plunging into her wet heat. Feeling those long, luscious legs wrapped around his hips.

  He bit back a groan and dropped his gaze, clawing desperately at composure that mockingly eluded him. “Let’s get back on point.” He forced the words out through a throat drier than Arizona sawdust.

  She took a step toward him, surprising him with her boldness. “You already know I need your help.”

  Now bathed in her scent, he found it difficult to take his eyes off her cleavage. “So why didn’t you come to the station and ask for it? That’s the way a normal person asks for help. You didn’t turn yourself into a criminal just because you need my help.”

  Hunt took a step closer and then another until mere inches separated their bodies. Probably not a good idea considering his body’s reaction to her. “That’s not something a sane person would do.”

  Why was he still talking when his palms ached to cup her breasts, to fill his hands with their heaviness? Drowning in a sea of sexual hunger, he tried to think about what he should say next. Do next. Nothing came to mind…at least nothing he should do. Oh but there were plenty of things he wanted to do. What in the hell was happening to him?