Bargain Hunting (24 page)

He sat, silent, until I released my death grip on my blouse. His Cheshire grin was enough to make my stomach turn. “The money. We got ripped off. Not the first time either.”

“Are you telling me the gang unit was shaking you down?”

He nodded. “Still are as far as I know. Cost of doing business, ya know?”

“Thank you, Mr. Santos,” I said as I rebuttoned my blouse.

“You got more buttons, I got more answers.”

“Thanks, but I got what I needed.”

“Me, too,” he answered back, grabbing his crotch. “I’ll have me some sweet dreams tonight.”

I drove home and immediately took a shower. I wanted to wash the prison and Jimmy Santos off me. I knew Liam would be crushed when I told him about my meeting, but I was pretty sure Santos was telling the truth. Not because I thought he was a trustworthy guy, but because of Armando’s botched testimony in front of the grand jury. If they’d found three hundred thousand and only turned in fifty thousand of it, where was the rest? Were they all in on it? The only one I could prove had any link to the Latin Bandits was José, and he was dead.

“Maybe Stan figured it out and he was killed to keep him quiet,” I mused as I towel-dried my hair before turning on the blow dryer. I pulled on a pair of boxers and button-down knit top before I tossed my Jimmy shirt in the rag pile. It wasn’t like I could keep wearing it. It would forever be known as my prison shirt.

I was in the kitchen making myself a very potent cosmo when Liam came back. He looked irritated. “Well?” I asked.

“I hit the usual spots and found out who might be the CI in Garza’s case.”

“Did you talk to him?”

Liam shook his head. “Seems this kid named Rodney has gone into hiding. Word on the street was there was a thousand-dollar finder’s fee for anyone who saw me buy Special K the week José was killed.”

“Is that normal?”

Liam shrugged. “Usually we’re talking a hundred bucks or so. A grand to a heroin addict is all the money in the world. All
I could get was a description that fits most of the residents of Forty-fifth Street. Tall, lanky, strung out, always looking to score.”

I took a long sip of my drink. “I did a little investigating myself.”

Liam’s head tilted to one side and he gave me an icy glare. “What happened to stay home or go to a public place?”

“I did go to a public place and it was very secure.”

“How can you know that?”

“It had razor wire, metal detectors, pat downs, and guards everywhere.”

“You went to see Santos?”

I nodded. “He was very helpful.”

“He’s also a full-of-shit felon who only talked to you so he could get his rocks off.”

“That, too,” I admitted. “But don’t you want to know what I found out?”

“I want to put you over my knee and spank you.”

“Sorry, I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “Okay, talk.”

I repeated the encounter, sans the parts about unbuttoning my shirt. “I honestly don’t think he knows who all was involved. Just that someone was orchestrating raids with large cash deposits that never made it into evidence. Someone or some
ones
were skimming off the top.”

Liam came around and got himself a beer. “Santos isn’t reliable.”

“What did Vasquez say when you saw him?”

“Lots of profanity. He was a dead end.”

“So all we really know is that José had a history with the
Latin Bandits and my guess is neither you nor Stan Cain was in on it. That’s why Stan was killed.”

“Then why kill José if he was the inside man?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I admitted. “Maybe José wasn’t alone in skimming. Maybe he was in it with other officers and for some reason, they had to shut him up. Think maybe Garza might know if there was some sort of secret investigation going on?”

“If he did, he wouldn’t have pressed charges against me. He’d never go along with a sham prosecution.”

I nodded. “Good point.”

Liam placed his barely touched beer on the countertop.

I took an involuntary step backward when he was close. The action didn’t go unnoticed, not if his satisfied smirk was any indication.

“Liam,” I cautioned as I held up one hand, palm out. “We aren’t going to do this. You have stitches.”

“We haven’t done anything yet and I heal fast. The stitches come out in the morning.”

I backed up farther, only to find myself against the cool wall. Liam kept coming, his intense eyes belying the small smile curving his chiseled mouth.

“Please?” I said, not sure what I was asking for.

Without a word, Liam took the glass from my hand and deposited it on the counter. Then he flattened his palms on the wall on either side of my head.

I could smell his musky cologne and hear his slightly uneven breath. There was a smoldering intensity in his eyes that sent a ripple of desire through me.

“Please what?” he asked.

His warm, mint-scented breath washed over my face. Tilting my head back, I searched his eyes beneath the thick outline of his dark lashes.

“I’ve been very, very patient,” he said.

Bending at the waist, Liam leaned forward until his lips barely grazed mine. Wide-eyed, I experienced the first tentative seconds of the kiss through a haze of surprise. The pressure from his mouth increased almost instantly. It was no longer tentative. It was demanding and confident. Apparently fueled by the months of touches and meaningful looks that had punctuated our coexistence. His hands moved slowly, purposefully to my waist. His strong fingers slipped beneath the fabric of my top and came to rest just below the swell of my rib cage. My mouth burned where he incited fires with his expert exploration of my mouth. A sigh inspired by purely animal desire rose in my throat. I was being bombarded with so many sensations at once, one more pleasurable than the last. The callused pad of his thumb brushed the bared flesh at my midriff. His kiss was so thorough, so wonderful that my knees were actually beginning to tremble.

When he pulled away, I very nearly reached out to keep him close to me. It wasn’t necessary, he didn’t go far. Resting his forehead on mine, I listened to the harmony of our labored breathing.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked.

“Kissing me is a good place to start.”

“I kissed you. You responded. Why have we been pretending?”

“It’s not pretending,” I said, feeling sad and lonely all of a sudden. “Maybe deep down we both know this isn’t such a great idea.”

“That,” he began as he lifted his head and met my eyes, “is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Liam wasn’t subtle with his second kiss. There was nothing even remotely sweet about it. This kiss was meant to do one thing, convey desire. Even before he pressed his hardness into my belly, I knew he was aroused like he’d never been before. I also knew that I had to keep this from happening, no matter how much I wanted it myself. Sex changes people. The whole relationship becomes tainted. If Liam was my lover, chances were he’d no longer be my friend.

“Don’t,” I said as I placed my hands flat against his chest and gave a little shove. “This is wrong.”

“How can you say that?” he countered. “How can anything this good be wrong?”

“Because it ends,” I said on a long breath. “We go along fine for a while, then something happens and we walk away from each other. I want you in my life, and if that means no sex, so be it.” I watched him from behind the safety of my lashes.

“Finley.” He said my name on a rush of breath. “I don’t want to make love to you just for the hell of it.”

“Then why?” I asked, truly confused.

He looked at me with eyes so full of tenderness I almost sighed. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I laid eyes on you.” He brushed his lips across my forehead. “Because of everything you’ve done for me.”

“Gratitude isn’t a good reason to have sex.”

“Not gratitude,” he insisted as his fingers moved to grip my upper arms. His lips touched mine. His voice deepened to a husky whisper as he continued. “Like it or not, there’s more here than just lust.” He kissed me lightly. “Do we really have to put a label on it? I love the way you laugh. I love the fire in your eyes when you’re angry.”

“Liam?” I whispered, feeling my defenses crumble.

“I know it will be incredible between us. Let’s just go with that for now.”

He kissed me with equal measures of passion and pleading.

“You’re confusing me,” I admitted.

“I’m trying not to,” he said quietly. His hand came up and he captured a lock of my hair between his thumb and forefinger. He silently studied the pale strands, his expression dark and intense.

“I don’t know what to do, Liam. I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low, and definitely seductive.

The sincerity in his voice worked like a vise on my throat. The lump of emotion threatened to strangle me as the moments of silence dragged on.

“We don’t even know if we have anything in common.”

“Well, I know a good place to start,” he countered, his voice rising a notch. “We can deal with the other stuff later,” he said as he scooped me up in his arms, cradling me against his solid chest.

Liam carried me down the hall to my bedroom. As if I was some fragile object, he placed me on the bed, gently arranging me against the pillows.

I was silent as I watched him shrug out of his shirt and jeans before joining me on the bed. Through passion-dilated eyes, I took in the impressive sight of him, absently checking to make sure his injury was little more than a faint red line. His body was a true thing of beauty. Rolling on his side, Liam pulled me closer, until I encountered the solid outline of him. His expression was fixed, his mouth little more than a taut line.

“This’ll be good, Finley. You’ll see,” he said as he gently pulled me into the circle of his arms.

It felt so good, so right. I needed this. Closing my eyes, I reminded myself of how many times I’d dreamed of this moment.

I surrendered completely.

Cradling me in one arm, Liam used his free hand to stroke the hair away from my face. I greedily drank in the scent of his cologne as I cautiously allowed my fingers to rest against his thigh. His skin was warm and smooth, a startling contrast to the very defined muscle I could feel beneath my hand. I remained perfectly still, comforted by his scent, his touch, and his nearness. Strange that I could find such solace in his arms. Being here in this room with Liam was enough to erase the uncertainty that had plagued me for days. What could be the harm in just a few hours of the pleasure I knew I could find here? He was right. We could work the rest of the stuff out later.

He tilted my head back until his face was mere fractions of an inch from mine. I could feel the ragged expulsion of his breath. Instinctively, my palms flattened against his chest. The thick mat of dark hair served as a cushion for my touch. Still, beneath the softness, I could easily feel the hard outline of muscle.

“I want you so badly,” he said in a near whisper.

My lashes fluttered as his words washed over my upturned face. I needed to hear those words, perhaps even wished for them. Liam’s lips tentatively brushed mine. So feather light was the kiss that I wasn’t even certain it could qualify as such. His movements were careful, measured. His thumbs stroked the hollows of my cheeks.

Slowly and deliberately he stripped off my shirt and shorts, trailing little kisses everywhere he exposed new skin. With skill and agility, he made quick work of my bra and thong. His dexterity continued as he removed the last barrier of his clothing until we were both gloriously naked.

I banished all thought from my mind. I wanted this, almost desperately. The feel of his hands and his lips made me feel alive. The ache in my chest was changing, evolving, being taken over by some new emotions. I became acutely aware of every aspect of him. The pressure of his thigh where it touched mine. The sound of his uneven breathing. The magical sensation of his mouth kissing me in places I didn’t even know needed kissing.

When he lifted his head, I grabbed his broad shoulders. “Don’t,” I whispered, urging him back to me.

His resistance was both surprising and short-lived. It was almost totally forgotten when he dipped his head. His lips did more than brush against mine. His hands left my face and wound around my body. Liam crushed me against him. I could actually feel the pounding of his heart beneath my hands.

The encounter quickly turned into something intense and consuming. His tongue moistened my parted lips. The kiss became demanding, and I was a very willing participant. I managed
to work my hands across his chest, until I felt the outline of his erect nipples beneath my palms. He responded to my action by running his hands all over my back and nibbling my lower lip. It was a purely erotic action, one that inspired great need and desire in me.

A small moan escaped my lips as I kneaded the muscles of his chest. He tasted vaguely of mint and he continued to work magic with his mouth. I felt the kiss in the pit of my stomach. What had started as a pleasant warmth had grown into a full-fledged heat emanating from my very core, fueled by the sensation of his fingers snaking up my back, entwining in my hair and guiding my head back at a severe angle. Passion flared as he hungrily devoured first my mouth, then the tender flesh at the base of my throat. His mouth was hot, the stubble of his beard slightly abrasive. I felt it all. I was aware of everything—the outline of his body, the almost arrogant expectation in his kiss. Liam was obviously a skilled and talented lover. I was a compliant and demanding partner.

This was a wondrous new place for me, special and beautiful. The controlled urgency of his need was a heady thing. It gave me the sense that I had a certain primal power over this man.

He kissed, touched, and tasted until I literally cried out for him. It was no longer a physical act, it was a need. I needed Liam inside me to feel complete.

Poised above me, his brow glistening with perspiration, Liam looked down at me with smoldering, heavy eyes. He waited for me to guide him, then filled me with one long, powerful thrust. Then he moved. Rhythmically, faster and faster, until I was nearly out of my mind.