As Fate Would Have It (7 page)

Chapter 16

She was up to something
. That thought hit Rye hard as he stepped from his bedroom and into the hall. Absently running fingers through his sleep mussed black hair, he yawned wide just as he caught sight of the kitchen. One glance at Brie and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

She stood over the stove fixing pancakes, acting bubbly and happy. Enthusiasm normally didn't relate to cooking chores in the early morning.

Rye cautiously moved forward, tugging at his unbuttoned lightweight silk shirt, not even bothering to tuck it into his faded jeans. All senses stood on high alert as he watched her putter around the kitchen, humming "Zippity-Doo-Da" to herself. Never a good sign when a woman is this damn happy first thing in the morning. Well, unless she'd spent the night in his bed, at which case she would still be there. Plenty of time for a late breakfast after he had his fill of her delectable body. Since he slept alone, this mood could only mean one thing… she had a payback plan, one that would knock most men to their knees. She made one large miscalculation, though. He wasn't an average man in any way, shape, or form. Women were a hobby and he had tamed the wildest lionesses into a purring kittens. Brie, although a challenge, would be no different.

"Good morning." Brie turned to give him a genuine smile, taking a moment longer to devour his bare chest with his gaze. Licking her lips, her gaze slowly meandered upward, hazel meeting his deep blues.

"Morning." Taking a seat, Rye watched her for a minute more before turning his attention to the feast set before him. Her flashing smile, that slight color to her cheeks, the sway of her hips as she walked to the refrigerator and back, had his breath sucking in, momentarily distracting him from his wary concerns. Her long blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail, swayed with her movements. He could almost feel the smooth, soft tresses caressing his hands as his fingers delved into the thickness. What would it feel like teasing his chest as she straddled his hips, riding him to a crest of passion?

"Do you like butter or peanut butter with your pancakes?" Brie asked as she set the milk down on the table.

Her voice broke through his thoughts. Shifting in his seat, he resisted the need to reach down and adjust jeans that were suddenly too tight for comfort. "Butter is fine." The huge pile of pancakes neatly stacked, reminded him of his earlier concerns. Plopping a couple of the bigger ones on his plate, he discreetly checked for any extras while topping them with a spoonful of butter. Pouring a glass of milk, he sniffed before taking a sip. A few bites of his breakfast later, Rye decided if anything was laced with laxatives, he sure as hell couldn't find it. In fact, the fare was damn good.

Brie chatted away while they ate, discussing family members and the eccentricity of their relatives. He relaxed into the moment, laughing with her as they shared a pleasant breakfast together.

In no time, their bellies were full, the table cleared. Rye excused himself to head back to the bedroom, ambling down the hall while Brie watched him with expectation.

"BRIE!!!!!!!"

She appeared at the threshold of the laundry room with a look of complete innocence plastered on her face. One that most guilty parties schooled to perfection. As a cop, he had seen it all and, with Brie, he could honestly say he smelled a skunk.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Her voice even sounded concerned.

"Look! Look at these!" Shock still evident on his face, Rye shook his favorite pair of boxers, holding them up for her to see.

"What about them?" She struggled with twitching lips, but finally succeeded in biting her bottom one.

"They're PINK! Damn, frigging PINK!" He shook them again before turning them back and forth, then side to side.

Sure enough, a healthy dose of hot pink covered the once white material, inside and out.

"And that is bad?" She arched an eyebrow.

"BAD? You are asking ME if pink is BAD?" Growling, his eyes narrowed on her, searching intently.

"I take it that you don't care for the color?" A couple of innocent blinks followed.

His voice lowered considerably, all the more dangerous for its softness. "I knew it. Well, listen up, vixen. You've bitten off more than you can chew this time." One more glare and he stomped out of the room. Brie's burst of laughter followed in his wake.

What she didn't know was how close he was to bending her over his knee and swatting that perky rear. His groin responded to the brief thought, making him groan with frustration. Rye carried a reputation for quick thinking and innovative solutions in the department. Simply put, what he wanted, he got. Time to utilize those skills on one pain in the rear nurse.
We'll see who has who tied up in knots.

Chapter 17

Rye glanced down at his watch after tossing his now ridiculously neon pink boxers on the bed. She was asking for it. What was his next move in this real life chess game? Staring at his ruined underwear, he came up with a thought. From what he saw the past couple of days, Gomez didn't usually begin to rouse until at least eleven, more often closer to noon, preferring to be up all night, as indicated by the bright lights and flickering television inside the house. So, if they left now…

"Brie, grab your purse and let's go." He called from his room, tucking his wallet into his back pocket, buttoning up his shirt as he headed to the front room.

Closing the dishwasher door, Brie pushed the start button before answering, "Where are we going?" Her body language reminded him of a deer, preparing to dash for safety. Good. Let her wonder, worry, and fret about when he would pay her back for her devilish prank.

Bending down to tie the tennis shoes, he took the opportunity to peek over his shoulder, catching her staring at his butt. "To buy more boxers, of course, since someone ruined my favorite pair."

She grabbed her purse off the table after eyeing him for a moment longer. "I didn't ruin them." Her voice strengthened with sincerity.

"Did so." He teased back, enjoying the banter.

"Did not."

"So."

Realizing just how childish they sounded, Rye rolled his eyes, automatically following Brie out the door, pausing only to make sure it was locked. He quickly strode to the driver's seat, not bothering to ask permission to drive her car. With a smooth slide, he settled in the seat, and watched Brie sit next to him. Both took a moment to buckle their seatbelts before she broke the silence.

"I've heard that real men wear pink."

Taking the keys, he started the engine, backed out of the drive, and started down the street before answering. "Baby, you haven't seen a real man yet. Hang around a while, I'll remedy that." Catching her eye, he winked before turning his attention back to the road.

She snorted in unladylike fashion.

* * * *

Sure enough, thirty minutes later, they walked into the men's section of the local department store. Every woman in the store turned to follow Rye's form as he headed straight for the underwear aisle. Their gazes slipped from his face downward until he walked by, then landed directly on his butt. Brie just rolled her eyes. No wonder the man was so full of himself. Heck, if he had women drooling just by walking by, no telling what would happen if he actually tried to get their attention.

Staring at the unfamiliar displays of men's underwear, Brie's eyes lighted on the thongs. Who knew men wore such? Of course, she knew women did, especially when they didn't want lines to show under skimpy dresses, but what was men's excuse for putting on something that resembled dental floss a little too closely for her taste?

Gold? Is that a gold colored thong?

A woman's voice broke through her thoughts just as she bumped into a large, hard frame.

"Can I help you?"

Rye reached behind to steady her until she regained her balance and took a hesitant step back.

Marilyn, the assistant's nametag read. The saleswoman's gaze raked his body before meandering to finally meet his eyes once more. Plastering a smile on his face, he softly inquired, "I'm looking for silk boxers, if you have any?"

Marilyn coyly batted her lashes before walking from behind the counter, a wide smile on her face. "Of course. If you will just follow me, sir."

Brie wasn't sure, but it certainly looked like Little Miss Helper was putting a little extra shake to her hiney as she led the way through the maze of shelves to their destination. Come to think of it, wasn't one more button undone than when they started this little journey? And that syrupy sweet voice returned, grating harshly on Brie's nerves.

"Can't we get the cotton and watch your rash appear?" she mumbled to his back.

Rye turned, and a wicked smile appeared wide enough to pop that left dimple. "Looking for any excuse to touch my rear?"

"What?" Her mouth dropped open.

"Admit it, you want to run those smooth, soft hands across my naked ass, kneading and massaging." He refused to release her gaze.

Brie's face immediately flamed even as her mind savored the idea. Tearing her eyes from his, she caught the saleswoman staring, just short of drooling. Obviously, she was on the list of volunteers for that particular service for him.

Rye grinned wickedly before returning his attention to the saleslady.

"You must be a large, or would it be an extra large?" Marilyn smiled, her gaze bouncing down to his crotch, lingering, then returning to his face.

Flashing a smile, Rye's low and sultry voice carried across the space, even as he leaned closer as if passing along a well guarded secret. "Large boxers, extra large in the other area."

"Oh, my." Marilyn's gaze darted back to his groin, obviously trying to picture such a thing.

Brie simply shook her head. Was the rest of the world lust-crazed? Was she the last remaining sane person around
?
Catching a glimpse of another display shelf, she strolled over, pulling one of the items off its hook. Men's cups? Glancing over her shoulder, she found Rye enjoying rapt attention from the saleswoman as she held up a pair of black silk boxers.
Hmmm. No time like the present
. "Rye?"

Captivated with a game of flirtation, Rye answered without even turning, "Yes?"

"How do you know what size fits of these? Do you stand here and hold them against you like women do shirts?" She held up the cup for him to see.

Spinning on his heel, he walked over, shaking his head the entire way. With an exaggerated sigh, he took the cup from her hand. "We just know and no, we don't stand in public holding them there."

Yanking the cup back out of his hand, Brie turned it this way and that, trying to figure out exactly how such things actually worked. Not like women ever dealt with such. "Do you wear underwear with this? Are they uncomfortable? Do they really work?" The questions just tumbled out.

Rye released a sigh, taking the cup from her hands once more to hang it back on the hook. "Jock strap is enough, they are snug but not too tight, and yes, you don't have pain when getting hit in that region." Grabbing her hand, he tugged her well away from the display.

Catching Marilyn's eye, he winked. "Can you ring me up for those pairs that you showed me, please? Oh, and toss in a white pair, too."

Pulling Brie flush against his side, he leaned over to whisper in her ear, "No more doing my laundry, vixen."

That placed a grin back on her face. She glanced up, a twinkle in her eye. "What? At least your clothes are clean."

"Uh huh." Grinning, he leaned in, brushing a quick kiss across her nose. "Ready?"

Startled at the show of affection, Brie could only nod in answer to his question. Surprise hit her once more as he took the package in one hand, reaching out to wrap his long fingers around hers. One little tug had her feet moving.
Now, this is very interesting.
If turning his boxers pink got him to teasing and kissing, maybe she needed to do so more often?
As they left the store, she had one thought.
Wonder if white boxers can be bought in bulk?

Chapter 18

The knock had Rye setting down his fork, chewing as he ambled to the front entryway. Brie looked up, a questioning expression on her face. Peeking out, he quickly opened the door.

"Now that was quick."

The redheaded man snorted in response, his frame just a touch shorter than Rye's. Old worn jeans with tears at the knees and a plain white T-shirt spoke of either downtime or undercover. Rye would bet on the former. "Like I don't have enough to do besides run errands for you." The grin on his face belied his gruff tone.

Pushing the door back, Rye waved him in. "Yeah, yeah." Closing the door behind their guest, Rye gestured toward Brie.

"Gary, this is Brie. Brie, this is Gary. He's on the force."

Taking a sip of her water, Brie looked over the newcomer before walking over, hand extended.

"Hello, Gary. Nice to meet you." They shook hands, appraising one another. "You work with Rye?"

"Yeah. Some days." He smirked, pulling a folder out from behind his back.

Brie's head tilted, mirroring her confusion. "Some days?"

"You don't want to know, Squirrel." Rye swiped the file out of Gary's hands.

Shifting his feet, Gary's crisp green eyes flicked between Rye and Brie. A small grin appeared. "You didn't tell me she was a cute little rodent. Nice tail, too." He nudged the other man in the ribs, grin widening at Brie's rapidly coloring complexion.

"Careful, buddy. This one has teeth." Rye smiled at Brie's obvious huffing over such a comment. He had no intentions of allowing Gary to play cat and mouse with Brie.
I'm just looking out for her.

Recalling his manners, he quickly asked, "You wanna come in? Dinner is on the table if you want to join us."

"Nah, but thanks anyway. Can't stay long. Got an appointment soon."

Nodding, Rye didn't pursue further, noting Brie return to her seat at the table. "This all we have on Gomez and his buddies?"

Gary bobbed his head, his expression serious once more, attention focused on his co-worker. "Yeah, not much. Told you they were slimy. Nothing sticks."

Nodding, Rye glanced over the pages, considering the possibilities of how this time they would actually catch them with their hands in the cookie jar. Certainly, it wasn't going to be an easy task. Damn near impossible, if he was honest.

The nervous shifting of weight by Gary caught his attention. Even though Gary happened to be a few months younger, he had been at the force for a year longer. Third generation cop. As far as he ever knew, the younger man never prickled with nervousness.

"Ok. Spill it. What has you so antsy?"

A sheepish look crossed Gary's face as his eyes sought the floor. "Davis."

Putting the folder aside, Rye crossed his arms over his chest. Davis was their immediate supervisor, a man with special ops military background who ran the precinct like an anal obsessive. He flirted with the line of legality more than once, always claiming that it all washed out in the end. He ran roughshod over slackers and anyone he considered not getting their job done in a timely fashion. More than one officer cussed him behind his back, but no one dared question him within his hearing. For being a tough ass, he made a fairly good boss.

"What now?"

Shrugging, Gary sighed. "You know that Wino Street Ripper case?" Rye nodded, noting Brie's head jerk up from where she sat. He cussed to himself. She was far too curious for her own good.

"Yeah. It's your baby, I take it?" Rye stepped a bit closer, putting his body between Gary's and Brie's. The media hadn't had the chance to latch onto the story yet. Some modern Jack the Ripper wanna-be causing death everywhere he touched. So far he seemed to be fixated on the city's hooker population. Though that was bad enough, heaven help them if he decided to move up in class.

"You know Davis and his short fuse. Seems he is sick of hearing about another hoo… errrr… lady murdered every night." His eyes darted in the direction of Brie.

She got back up from the table, moving to stand beside Rye.

"Go on." Rye ignored Brie's proximity and the fact that she was overhearing things she shouldn't be. He would swear her to secrecy afterward.
No biggie.

Gary's body tensed once more as he shuffled a step. "Well, I was told basically I had until tonight or I'm off the case."

Rye whistled. Davis was stern and strict, but that was asking a bit much for any cop, detective or undercover. No one wanted to hear of nightly murders. But, cases took time. Leads sometimes were few and far between. Hell, the far north corner office at the precinct contained nothing but files and files of unsolved cases.

Gary's head bowed once more. "That's not all." He paused, taking in a deep breath, his brown pullover expanding to allot for the effort. "I have to get a mike on one of the working girls or…"

"Or?" Brie asked this time, clenching her hands at her sides.

Patience never was one of her strong points Rye recalled.

"Or I have to go undercover myself…" He looked up and swallowed loudly. "In drag."

Brie's mouth fell open in surprise. Rye simply threw his head back and laughed, deep and hard. Gary's eyebrows furrowed in agitation, his breath puffing. Holding his hands up, Rye managed to get his amusement in check. The image of Gary in stiletto heels came to mind. His knobby knees were sure to draw attention. He could almost picture Gary standing by the tub in an attempt to shave the overgrown jungle he called legs. Those red freckles would stand stark against a wild, hot pink wig.

"Sorry, buddy. But…" He managed to stifle another round. "But, the idea of you in drag is downright hilarious. Not even a blind john would pick you up."

Obviously, not catching how ridiculous the situation was, Brie reached out, patting Gary on the arm. "What are you going to do?" Sincerity filled her voice.

For a long moment Gary stood there, shaking his head, his face reflecting impending doom. Slowly, a small grin appeared, his eyes flashed with a new found idea.

Picking up on the other man's thoughts Rye quickly ran interference. "Oh, no. No way, man. Not happening."

Gary argued. "It's perfect! You owe me." He gestured to the file sitting on the countertop. "Besides, she knows too much already." He sent a pleading look Rye's direction. "This guy has made all the plants we've tried. The regulars won't help us out, not trusting they won't be tossed into jail afterward." Taking a step forward, he crossed his arms over his chest. "We even tried to bring in plants from other stations. He's too slick. Makes a cop each and every time."

"No!" Rye crossed his arms over his chest. There was no way in hell he was letting this happen.

"I'm sure she can borrow Marla's getup. You remember? The black leather bustier with mini skirt split clean up to no man's land?" Gary's hands waved in excitement. "It's perfect. Stick a wire on her. Do the usual pick up routine. He talks his way into a prison sentence and we're just behind the door so nothing will happen." His hopeful look fell on Rye. "Bet Marla even has a push up bra that would catch any man's attention and hold it for a good long time." He drew in a deep breath. "Please, buddy. I'm desperate here. She won't be in danger. We'll have so many cops covering her."

Rye paused, glancing over at Brie, then back to Gary. They were desperate. No lures had worked thus far, which left them at the bottom of the barrel to catch this guy. A plan began to formulate.

"Hmmmm. You know, this might work." Rye tapped his chin with a forefinger, busily picturing Brie in the get up that a female undercover officer wore when they ran stings on men who picked up prostitutes. Hell, just the image alone made him hard. Once she actually wore the thing, every man within ten miles would be burning.

Brie's eyes narrowed. Tapping her toes, she glared at them both. "You better not be thinking what I think you are." Her temper caught again.

"Don't worry about it. Piece of cake. And, think. You will be doing a great community service." Gary's attention turned back to Rye. "I'll get Davis's approval. He will growl, but he will give the okay, especially if you are on board, Rye. He can give her temporary deputy status or some shit. Legendary undercover master will sway him to our way of thinking." He nodded with confidence. "Word is the mayor is pulling all kinds of strings to keep this story out of the press. Can you imagine if the public found out there was a serial killer running amok?" He waved his hand. "Anyway, the mayor is breathing down Davis's neck on this one. I'm sure he will grant permission on this. Anything to catch this guy and get his ass out of the hot seat."

Brie snorted.

Rye leaned down, whispering in her ear. "I'll make a deal with you. You do this for Gary and I'll let you dye the rest of my underwear pink."

Eyebrows shot up in surprise as a wicked gleam flashed in her eyes. "What all does this entail?"