A Case of Love (20 page)

Kenzie blushed slightly, her flushed cheeks making him laugh. “I read a lot,” she said finally.

"Then I guess I should thank God for curious minds,” he chuckled. “Now, I think it's my turn.” He rolled, flipping her on her back, his body coming down to rest on top of hers. He buried his mouth in her throat, licking and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

"Wait, Gideon,” she said, holding up her hand. “Do you hear that?"

"Hear what? I don't hear anything,” he muttered, his lips moving to her breast, capturing one straining nipple.

"Shit, it's my phone. I've got to get it, Gideon.” She pushed at him enough so that she could roll out from under him, reaching for her purse that she'd dumped beside the bed. Pawing through it quickly, she found her phone and flipped it open. “Mackenzie Hunter,” she said breathlessly.

Gideon stared at the sweet little backside she'd left uncovered in her search for her phone, smiling as he moved toward her. His fingers stroked up the back of her legs, tracing little circles across the smooth, silky skin.

"Stop that,” she hissed back at him before returning to her conversation. “Not you, Ron. I'm in a hotel, you remember, my apartment was trashed yesterday. The cops still have it cordoned off."

He moved closer, the flat of his palm sliding up and over the rounded curve of her ass, enjoying the firm feel of each cheek. Moving even closer, he let his tongue slide over her thigh, tracing the line where her butt ended and her thigh started. She wriggled, one hand coming out to push him away, but he could hear the little catch in her voice, the tiny bit of evidence that she was enjoying what he was doing.

Taking her hand, he brushed a kiss upon her palm, then simple moved it out of his way, sliding his tongue in the sleek crack between those perfect globes of her ass, finding the furled rosebud hidden between.

"Okay, Ron,” she managed to say, though a groan was building in her chest. “I'll be there as soon as I can get there."

"Tell him two hours,” Hawk said, sliding one long finger down the crack of her ass. “At least."

Mackenzie turned to give him a dirty look, though she couldn't help the smile that was on her face. “No one, Ron. You must be hearing the television. I'll be there soon.” She flipped the phone closed, starting to turn but was stopped by his arm across her lower back.

"Nope, I'm holding you hostage.” He ducked his head, his teeth biting delicately into one firm cheek.

"Ouch!” she cried but ruined the effect as a shiver of pleasure shot through her. He could see her trying to shake off the desire she was feeling. “Gideon,” she began, “you've got to let me go, I have to get to work."

"Hostages don't go to work,” he grinned, his fingers pushing between her thighs and sliding into silky hot wetness. He wiggled them, hearing her moan as she dropped her head to the bed. “Besides, this tells me that you'd rather stay here with me than leave."

"I would,” she whispered. “But I have to do my job.” Her hips began to move without her conscious volition, surging up against his thrusting fingers in desperation. She cried out when he pulled away.

"Okay,” he said simply, leaning back and releasing her.

"Okay?” she asked, her eyes showing her confusion, a flush of desire upon her cheeks.

"I know I'm nothing more than an idiotic male but I do try to learn from my mistakes.” He took her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Your job is important and necessary. So if you need to go do it..."

Mac's grin grew, her eyes sparkled. She threw herself at him, knocking him backwards and kissing him until he was tempted to roll her under him once more. But he managed to hold off, smiling back at her when she raised her head.

"You don't know how much that means to me, Gideon. Thank you."

"Just promise me something?"

"What's that?” she asked, sitting up on the side of the bed and searching for her clothes.

Gideon took her chin in his hand, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “Promise me you'll come back so we can finish where we left off."

Brett paced back and forth in the luxurious suite that he'd rented for another night, trying to ignore the phone in his hand that kept playing the theme from “The Twilight Zone". It was Dillon wanting an update on what was going on with Mackenzie and for the life of him, Brett didn't know what to tell him.

Dropping the cell onto the small settee and dumping a couple pillows on it to drown out the noise, he picked up the suite phone and dialed for an outside line. A knock on the door to the suite stopped him and he dropped the phone back into the cradle. “Shit."

"Who is it?” he yelled.

"Room service, sir. We have your order."

Brett sighed, glancing over at the pillows on the settee as his phone went off again. He ignored it, going to the door and opening it. A small cart was pushed into the room, holding a silver domed place setting. Brett signed the receipt and left a nice tip. He wasn't paying for it.

"The newspaper you asked for,” the waiter said, holding out the Monroe City Press, folded neatly.

"Thank you.” He closed the door behind the man, pushing the cart over to one of the chairs and setting down. Opening the paper, he reached for the dome, his hand stalled in mid air over the shining surface.

"Arsonist Escalates to Assault,” he read out loud slowly. “Shit girl, are you trying to get this guy pissed off?” He quickly skimmed the article, shaking his head. “Psychosis, impotent, unable to maintain any sort of relationship, Jesus jumped up Christ in a basket, Kenzie!” He shoved his hand through his hair, rolling up the paper and throwing it back on the cart. “Well at least now I know what burr Dillon has up his ass. Fuck!"

"Remind me when he finally answers his damn phone to shove it up his ass,” Dillon growled, pacing the floor angrily.

Rylie glanced up from the file she was going through, smiling as she watched her handsome husband mutter and pace the floor like a caged leopard. “I think Brett's a little smarter than to answer the phone when you're in this mood. Have you ever thought that Mackenzie is capable of living her own life?"

Dillon spun, his blazing amber eyes growing soft when he gazed at his very beautiful and very pregnant wife. “Did you read the article she wrote?"

"Yeah, I thought it was really well done.” She shrugged her shoulders, one hand going to her belly where their son kicked and then seemed to roll over. “Whoa there slugger."

He threw the phone down on the couch, dropping to his knees next to Rylie. His hand slid over her belly, smiling when he felt the kick of a tiny foot against his palm. “You should be a bit more gentle with your mama, son. Remember, she carries a gun."

After losing their first child, neither was taking any chances with this one. Rylie was on maternity leave now, even though she still had weeks left before her due date.

"Ha, ha.” She stretched, her hands going to her back. “These last weeks are taking forever.” She leaned over and kissed Dillon softly. “But you still didn't answer the question."

"If Mackenzie had a normal job, then I wouldn't have to worry about her. Instead, she's throwing herself in burning buildings, getting almost kidnapped by drug lords, and God knows what else. You can't expect me to just sit back and let her get in more trouble."

"Yes, I can.” She smiled, stroking her hand over his face. “It's her life, Dillon. Tell me how you'd react if someone tried to influence you the way you do her?"

"There's a big difference...” he let his voice die off knowing he was never going to win this with her. “I keep talking, I'm going to end up in a huge hole, aren't I?"

"I knew you could be trained,” Rylie grinned.

His eyes narrowed and he moved quickly, scooping her off the chair she'd been sitting in to work and up into his arms. She screeched and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You maniac, what are you doing? Put me down before you hurt yourself."

"Oh so now I'm weak,” he turned toward the bedroom door.

"No, I just weigh about a ton.” She nuzzled against his neck. “Besides, don't you have to get back to the office this afternoon?"

"Hey, even the boss deserves lunch,” he said as he kicked the door shut behind them.

Hawk stood in the shower, water running in gleaming rivulets down his wide chest and muscled stomach. His head was bent into the water, letting it sluice over the wound on his scalp. The heat felt good, loosening muscles tightened by the events of the past couple of days. He sighed, finally stretching and groaning as bruises made themselves known.

"Damn,” he hissed, turning off the water and stepping out onto the bath mat on the floor. He grabbed one of the thick towels, wrapping it around his waist and grabbing another to carefully towel dry his hair. A knock on the door of the hotel room brought his head up.

Quietly sneaking to the door, he carefully reached over and grabbed his nine millimeter off the dresser. “Who is it?"

"Brett Hunter."

Hawk looked through the peephole, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He undid the chain, opening the door and stepping back as Brett walked into the room.

"Where is she?” he growled, searching the room, even bending to check under the bed. “What did you do with her?"

"With who?” Hawk asked. “Mackenzie?"

"Yeah. Where is that pigheaded cousin of mine?"

"She's not here,” Hawk said, staring at the tall man with a look of bemusement. “What'd she do?"

"Did you read this article?” Brett asked, throwing the folded paper toward Hawk. “She's asking for trouble. You'd think she'd know better, especially being in this family."

Hawk skimmed the article. “Shit,” he breathed.

"Yeah, you can say that again."

"Shit,” Hawk repeated, folding the paper open to go over more thoroughly. “...received from an anonymous informant inside the police department. Shit, they're going to think it was me."

"It wasn't you?"

"Hell no, I'd never give out information on an investigation.” Hawk glared at Brett. “How did you find me, anyway?"

"I'm a private investigator, Hawkins. It wasn't that difficult to find out where you were. But if Kenzie isn't here with you, where is she?"

"She got called into the newspaper. Hang on, I'll get dressed and go with you.” Hawk grabbed his clothes and slammed into the bathroom, his temper spiking. “She's going to get herself killed,” he growled, pulling a tee shirt on over his wet skin.

He was out and pulling on his shoes, checking the load on his gun and pulling on his holster, still muttering. “Has she always been this pig headed?"

"This is nothing,” Brett said, shaking his head. “You should've seen her when she wanted to go to school in New York City. It was all she talked about."

Hawk grabbed a shirt and pulled it on over the top of his tee shirt, hiding his holstered weapon. “I bet she went too."

"Yeah, though her dad had a fit. I think Aunt Leanne was secretly pulling for her though.” Brett sighed, reaching for the door handle. “It was a fight all the way up until the day she left but I know both of them were proud of her when she graduated top in her class."

Hawk stuck the card key to the room in his pocket and followed him out, shutting the door behind him with a resounding thud.

Her phone on her desk was ringing as Mac came out of Ron's office, a grim smile playing around her soft lips. She was tempted to ignore it. After all, it wasn't as if there hadn't been a huge stack of pink slip phone messages on her desk when she came in. Out of the twenty or so messages, most of them had been from Dillon with the not so subtle message to call him when she “got her head out of her ass."

Dropping on to her chair, she reached for the phone, taking a deep breath and preparing herself to deal with Dillon's newest harangue. “Mackenzie Hunter,” she said.

"You want to know about the arsonist? I can give you anything you want."

Her head lifted, Kenzie picked up a pencil, twirling it in her fingers. “Who is this?"

"There's a reward out for what I got to give you,” the man said, ignoring her question. “You want to know or should I just go to the Tribune?"

"No...no, I want it. Who is he?"

"It ain't going to be that easy. I ain't giving you this information so you can run and claim the reward for yourself.” He paused and for a minute Mackenzie thought he'd hung up. “You gotta meet me."

"Okay, there's a coffee shop...” she began, only to be interrupted by the man.

"Nope, no good. You gotta come to me.” He rattled off an address. “Half an hour, Miss High and Mighty newspaper lady. You don't show and I call the Tribune. They probably know how to show their rats some respect."

"I'll be...there,” she finished to the dial tone as the man hung up.

Thoughts flew in Kenzie's head. This could be the story of the year, her chance for awards and recognition. Dillon would have to respect her abilities if she could unmask the arsonist that had been eluding the city for months. A thrill of anticipation shot through her and she ripped the address off of the notepad she'd written it on, grabbing her purse and heading for the bank of elevators.

Two elevators reached her floor at the same time and she stepped into one, never seeing the two men who came out of the other one. Hitting the button for the lobby, she checked her purse to make sure she had tapes and batteries for her recorder.

"I thought you said she was going to be here,” Brett said, glaring at Hawk.

"I thought she was going to be here,” Hawk said, glaring back at Brett. He looked up just as a familiar face on five inch heels tottered past. “Selena..."

"Mmm,” the curvaceous red head purred. “If it isn't my favorite Narc cop and his very cute friend. Who is your very cute friend, Gideon?"

Brett stepped forward, an interested smile on his lips. “I'm Brett Hunter, ma'am. I'm Mackenzie's cousin.” He took the hand she held out to him, bringing it to his lips.

"Enchante,” Selena breathed, batting luscious green eyes up at him. “Mackenzie does have the most interesting men in her life. Just how I like them, tall, tanned and tasty.” She licked her lips just enough to leave them moist and inviting and draw Brett's gaze to her mouth.