Criminal Instinct (21 page)

A grin lit his face. “Damn good. Come here.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He laughed. “Nothing treacherous, I assure you.”

Crossing her arms, she said, “Thanks for everything, but I’d like to take a shower, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

His smile slowly faded. “You don’t have to go.”

Her stomach jumped. “Yeah, actually I do.” She searched the room for her clothes. “Forget about the shower.”

Jonas got to his feet. “Ana.”

She found her clothes folded neatly with her purse. “You know, I have a job. Common folk like myself work for a living.”

“I’m not likely to forget,” he murmured. “Before I read your file, I took offense when you made remarks like that.”

Ana tensed and pulled on her underwear, her movements stiff.

“You know it’s not fair of you to make those statements to me.”

She shut her eyes. No it wasn’t. Not after the things he’d been through with his father and his family. Not after he handled her so gently. Her sarcastic remarks were a way of distancing herself from intimacy, which scared the hell out of her. “Look,” she spoke quietly. “I can be a jerk.”

He came up behind her, pressed his warm body to hers. “I won’t hold it against you.” They stood for a quiet moment until he said, “I’m sorry about what happened to you at the hands of that bastard.”

“Me too. But you know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Shit happens.”

“It does.”

His strong arms made her feel secure. One hand moved in a circular motion on her stomach. “What ever happened to him and the woman…Maria?”

“She’s serving a ten-to fifteen-year sentence for attempted murder. Didn’t matter that we were defending ourselves. We were in the wrong. It would have been ten for me if SIDE hadn’t come along. I wasn’t the one using the knife, but if you’re present during the crime, you’re charged equally. He almost died. I swear, though, no matter how much of a racist bigot he was, I never wanted him hurt like that. I pay for what we did in my dreams over and over again. Luckily he recovered. Scarred for the rest of his life.”

“Like you?”

She didn’t say anything, but maybe he was right.

“Do you keep in touch with her?”

One side of her mouth tugged up. “I tried to…to thank her for saving my life after we were arrested. She made it clear she didn’t do it to help me. She’d been abused by him for nearly a year. She
wanted
him dead. I never spoke to her again.”

He sighed and tightened his hold of her. “Ana, I hope to God you have some good memories to level out the bad.”

A few. “What memories…do you have?” Her tone sounded a little shy. But she was unsure of herself. Unsure of where their relationship stood when it came to personal questions.

“My mom. She was what kept Kara and me going, while my father did everything to pull us down.” He nuzzled her neck, and she tilted her head, giving him better access. “I don’t want to talk about him. What about you?”

At the glide of his warm tongue along her throat, she closed her eyes. “I did have someone,” she murmured. “Sort of.” Max. He’d made it a point to teach her everything he knew in order for her to survive on her own. He probably hadn’t intended for his teachings to aid her in becoming a thief. And there had been some things he couldn’t teach her at all.

He couldn’t teach her how to fit in. Not with those of Latino descent. Not with anyone. The only thing Max could teach her was how to survive. Sometimes she wondered if she’d been better not to have had him in her corner at all.

When Jonas moved to the other side of her neck, she obliged him by tilting her head in the opposite direction. “A friend of my father’s took me under his wing for a bit. He taught me to look out for myself.”

“I’m glad you had someone.” Jonas lifted his head, and turned her toward him, brushing her hair back with his fingers. “Where is he now?”

She wanted to say, “What’s it to you?” Sharing things had never been easy. But he was being just as honest with her. Focusing her gaze on the fine hairs curling his chest, she absently reached out and touched them with her fingertips. “He died—an innocent bystander in a liquor store robbery. The robber apparently wanted Max’s wallet too, but—” she shook her head, “—you just didn’t screw over Max and get away with it. This time a bullet stopped him.”

“A bad way to go.”

“Not so bad. He went down fighting. Something he told me to always do. That, and to look out only for myself, and to never trust people who have more money than they can handle.”

“So his influence is what caused you to have a grudge against people with money.”

Her expression went hard. “You would like to think it was just because of him, wouldn’t you? It just so happens that every rich person I’ve met has been a first-class jerk. I’ve lived with a few, and they treated me like I was a mixed breed from the pound, always reminding me that I was an orphaned mutt and they were doing me a favor by taking me in.”

“I’m sorry, Ana.” His eyes shone with sincerity. “You shouldn’t have been treated like you were less than anyone.”

Yeah, she shouldn’t have, but she had. Her eyes stung and she looked down. Damn, she’d already cried enough tonight to last her a lifetime. “To be truthful, it wasn’t only them.”

“Who else?”

She shook her head.

He nudged her head up with two fingers on her chin. “Tell me.”

She cleared her throat. “Maybe another time.” Of course, there wouldn’t be another time. “Let’s just say you’re the first decent rich guy I’ve met.”

His lips twitched. “I suppose I should say thanks.”

She lifted a shoulder.

“Ana, were you twelve when Max died?”

“How did you know?” She frowned, dropping her arm.

His hands gripped her waist and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her hands sliding onto his shoulders. “That’s when your problems with the law started.”

He was right. She hadn’t realized it. Or maybe she had and just refused to admit it. But Max’s death wasn’t the only reason she thumbed her nose at authority. Why she finally gave up on being the good girl, trying to get others to ask her to be part of their family.

Another reason, a bigger one, had occurred the last day she had seen Max. When she had asked
him
to be her family.

And he had flat-out refused.

Jonas kissed her. She pulled back before the heat consumed her. “I wanted to take a shower.”

His mouth brushed hers. “You can…after.”

…
beep—beep
.

Jonas shifted on the bed. Sleep tugged at him with seductive fingers, luring him.

Beep—beep—beep
.

He managed to open his eyes to a slit and yawned. What was that? When his arm brushed silky skin, he stilled.
Ana
.

She was laid out on her stomach to his right, head facing away from him. The comforter was nowhere to be seen, and the gray sheet bunched at her waist, exposing the line of her narrow back. The sight of her bare skin only increased the pressure of his morning wood.

Scanning her body, he caught an image of a heart tattooed just above her backside. Blinking away the heaviness of his eyes, he tugged at the sheet. The heart had wings, but it was wrapped in chains secured with a large lock. The wings spread as if trying to break free.

A tightening hit him in the chest. He recalled the box of hearts he’d found in Ana’s studio. He didn’t know what the pieces of cloth meant or why she kept them, but the tattoo had to mean something. The symbolism of a heart trapped, struggling to be free, told a story. Ana’s story.

Tenderness swamped him, and he ached to touch her. When he scooted closer, the bed shifted under his weight and she stirred. He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or today for that matter, once they left his bedroom. But for the next hour, he didn’t want to think of the past, the betrayals, or the revenge he had to deal with.

The hand he stretched out to stroke her back hesitated. Was that all he wanted from her? One more moment of intimacy? He’d spent weeks with women, dining them and sharing a bed, and had no qualms when their time together ended. And now with Ana, a woman he’d known four days, who had kept her real motives from him, he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye. Not yet.

The thought should have caused him to back-pedal right then—to get out of the bed and leave before she could tempt him any more. He didn’t have the time to care about anyone else. Couldn’t risk caring for anyone else. Not while his goal was to bring down Salvador Tyler.

But now after they’d shared some of their deepest insecurities, it wasn’t so easy to say goodbye. Ana had come clean with him about her job and explained that her only purpose was to stop the shipment. She’d told him straight that she was sorry, that she didn’t think he was behind the drugs. That meant a hell of a lot to him.

The scent of his shampoo on Ana hit his senses and he allowed his hand to move down her warm back. He loved smelling Ana’s subtle fragrance of strawberries, but possessiveness shot through him knowing she had washed herself with
his
soap. After their second lovemaking, he’d risen to take a shower. He’d tried to get her to take one with him, but she’d refused, tugging the sheets up around her. He’d grinned at her attempt at modesty after they’d been as intimate as two people could be and offered her first dibs on the shower. She’d eyed him suspiciously until he promised he wouldn’t step one foot in the bathroom. But damn, he’d wanted to. When he returned after his own wash, she’d been asleep.

Ana shifted, arms stretched above her head, face brushing the pillow, her shiny hair gliding across her face. Her back bowed and he wanted to take her right then.

Beep—beep—beep
.

Her eyes shot open. Her hands pushed up on the bed, raising her upper body, exposing her small, perfect breasts.

Saliva pooled in his mouth.

Beep—beep—beep
.

“Crap,” she grumbled as she looked around urgently. When her breasts bounced with her movement, he couldn’t stand it a moment longer. He wrapped his arms around her and she fell on top of him. She wiggled and pushed at him, which just made him groan.

“Let go. That’s my text alert. What the hell time is it?”

“Morning,” he mumbled against her neck. “Hmm. You taste good.”

Riiiiing
. “Shit.” Now somebody was calling his phone. “Maybe if we ignore both, they’ll stop.”

She shoved away from him. His phone kept ringing, then his cell.

He frowned. “What the hell?”

He reared up. A commotion sounded outside his door and he tensed. Bare assed, he got to his feet, grabbing the gun safe key he had taped under his side table.

He picked up the ringing phone. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Saven, it’s the police.” Dante, the morning security guard for the club. “They’re up the stairs, heading your way.”

Pounding started at his door.

“Call Ray,” he said and disconnected. “Get dressed, Ana.” He threw the key on top of the small table, grabbed his boxers from the floor and pulled them on.

“What’s—”

“Police, open up,” came a gruff voice through the door between hits. They didn’t give him a chance. The door flew open. Guns were drawn. “Hands where I can see them!”

Jonas raised his arms.

“What the hell’s going on?” he asked as he glanced at Ana. She stood with the sheet tucked under her arms, cheeks pink as she met his eyes fleetingly. Anger gripped him at her embarrassment.

Detective Mallard stormed in with several officers in his wake. The detective gave the okay to stand down. Guns were holstered.

Mallard handed Jonas some papers. “Search warrant.”

Jonas’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Ana. She was suddenly pale, her back stiff, but she wasn’t looking at him. Following her line of vision, he looked back to the doorway.

Everything clicked when his eyes centered on one man. His stocky form blocked the doorway, the black and white hair in wild disarray, his gaze hard and unrelenting.

Ana’s boss.

Monday
10:15 a.m.

“Get dressed, Miss Moreno.”

Gaze riveted on Sarge, Ana gave a nod to Detective Mallard. Sarge wore one of the Teflon jackets with SFPD printed across the back, posing as a part of the search team. The show might have been for Jonas; Sarge didn’t know his cover had been blown the day he showed up at her apartment building while Jonas had been there.

Sarge seared her with a look of restrained contempt before he turned and left the room.

Running a hand over her face, Ana’s shoulders sagged. Why was Sarge here? What was the search warrant for? Obviously this didn’t involve DEA or it would have been their initials printed across the jackets. Since Mallard led the search, did it have to do with the death of Jonas’s employee? What happened last night when she’d fallen asleep while Jonas was being questioned?

She tried to catch Jonas’s eye again, but he wouldn’t look at her. Uniforms filed in and out of the room like a militant parade. Damn, how many cops did it take to search a club? Or was that like asking, “How many cops did it take to screw in a light bulb?”

She walked to a chair by the entrance and stepped into her boots, grabbed her dress, undergarments and her purse that were laid out on the soft leather, all the while still clutching the sheet like a toga. She checked her cell. She’d set the alarm on the phone when Jonas had finally convinced her to stay the night. It had been nearly morning anyway, but she’d slept through the alarm as well as what looked like texts from Digit.

Jonas stepped into his pants, oblivious to the eyes around him. Apparently, he had no qualms about dressing in front of a room full of strangers.

She walked in front of him on her way to the bathroom and he turned his back, pulling on a black sweatshirt. Her pulse sped up. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

Hugging her belongings against her, she stormed into the bathroom, dressed in record time, and stormed back out again. Jonas walked out of the room. She followed and grabbed his arm. He stiffened at her touch and she dropped her hand.

When he turned toward her in the hallway—nothing. No emotion, interest, or even curiosity graced his face. He looked at her as if he didn’t even know her.

Her gut twisted and she crossed her arms against the cool breeze coming from an open window. She’d forgotten her coat. Jonas’s indifference was a hurtful blow after the night they shared. Not that she expected declarations of love, but something more than the cold shoulder.

“What’s going on with you?” She kept her tone soft, not wanting to broadcast what they were talking about to the roaming cops.

“No time to talk. I have things to take care of.” His voice chilled her as much as the air blowing through the hall.

“I understand you’re upset about the search warrant, but don’t take this out on me.”

His jaw flexed. “They have a witness against me.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “Who is it?”

“Don’t play fucking games, Ana. Did you think I’d forget what your boss looked like?” He leaned in close. “Did he tell you to fuck me?”

She stepped back at the quick flicker of rage on his face. Her heart beat against her chest. “I—”

“I’ve had all the lies I can take from you.”

Frozen, Ana stared up at him. Something began to burn in the center of her chest. Jonas thought that she had betrayed him. That she’d slept with him for the job…and what? Cooked up some fake story to feed to the police to get a search warrant to investigate his club and residence?

“At least I got a taste of you.” He straightened, his expression deadpan once again. “I’m still trying to figure out if it was worth it.”

Her eyes began to burn. She blinked, swallowing a couple of times to ease the pressure in her throat. “I know what it looks like…” He aimed so much disgust at her, she couldn’t finish defending herself. His censure cut her more than anyone’s had done before.

Mallard strode up to them with a female uniform so beefed up she could give Jonas’s men a run for their money. “Hands behind your back, Miss Moreno.”

“Why?” Her voice came out hoarse and she had to clear her throat.

“You know why.” He chewed on his peppermint toothpick, nodding to the cop. The female cop unhooked a pair of cuffs from her belt. “I have orders to take you in.”

“What a fucking surprise,” Jonas said.

She ignored him. “No, detective. I don’t have a clue. Whose orders?”

Mallard stood firm. “Hands now, Miss Moreno. Do not make us use force.” Mallard gazed at her sharp and determined. The female cop’s face remained passive, but her hand went to the baton stick on her belt.

“Ana, I know the truth.” Jonas broke into the stare down. “There’s no need to keep up the show for my benefit.”

“There is no show, Jonas.”
I wish you could believe me.
She started slipping the string of her small purse over her head when the female officer grabbed it.

Ana glared at her. “This belongs to me, cop.”

“Remove your hands now and face the wall,” the cop said.

“You’ll get your personal belongings returned to you, Miss Moreno.”

Ana hesitated a second too long. The cop dropped the purse and grabbed Ana’s shoulder, shoving her forward. Ana tripped over the cop’s foot, falling toward the floor. One arm was already behind her back, her wrist twisted at an awkward angle. She held out her free arm to ease her fall. Air knocked out of her lungs as she hit the floor. A knee speared into her back.

“What the fuck’s going on?” bellowed Jonas.

“Stand back, Saven!”

The cuffs locked tight against Ana’s skin. The purse string, still clutched in her hand, was whipped away. The cop’s hands roamed down her back, then into her boot. They took her blade, then hauled her up.

Jerking her head to get the hair out of her face, she looked at Jonas. His eyebrows were shoved down over his eyes in a fierce scowl. Raymond Brooks stood beside him with a hand on Jonas’s shoulder.

Mallard gripped Ana’s upper arm. “Let’s go.”

Gritting her teeth against pain, she said, “Don’t forget my purse.”

Jonas shoved his fisted hands into his pants pockets as Mallard led Ana down the hall and through bustling cops. He watched until they started down the stairs and were out of sight.

“Fill me in, Jonas.” Ray spoke from behind him.

“I screwed Ana and she screwed me. In more ways than one.” He started for his room. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” He grabbed his leather jacket from a chair, felt the pockets for his wallet and keys.

“Hey.” A cop stopped him.

Jonas lifted an eyebrow.

“You can take the jacket after I check it out.”

“You mean for a murder weapon? Go right ahead.” He offered the jacket to the cop.

“Murder weapon,” Ray murmured.

“Someone informed the police I confessed to killing Stevie, Parker and Sanchez. And that I have the murder weapon stashed somewhere here or at Decadent.”

“And you think that someone is Ana.”

“She’s betrayed me from the beginning. Her boss is somewhere here with the search. That’s no damn coincidence.”

The cop handed the jacket back. Jonas grabbed it and walked out the door. Once outside, he slipped it on.

“I’ll do some checking.”

“Don’t waste your time. All we need is to find Tyler. That should have been my number one focus this entire time. Instead I let myself be sidetracked.” He reached for his keys, but they caught on the material of his jacket. He cursed and yanked them out. He opened the side flap of his jacket and scowled at a hole. “What the hell?” Inspecting it more closely, something like a cold hand seized his chest. He reached out and leaned against his SUV.

“Are you all right? Jonas?”

He couldn’t answer. Not yet.

Not just any hole in his jacket.

A hole in the shape of a heart.

Ana clutched her purse in her unshackled hands, meeting Mallard’s eyes before he slammed the SIDE van door shut. The interior darkened. The windows in the van were tinted nearly black except for the front windshield.

Sarge started up the van without uttering a word.

Now that Mallard couldn’t see, she rubbed at her sore wrist. She looked down and realized her hands were shaking.

Get a grip, Ana
.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t know what was going on and she wasn’t about to ask Sarge. Evidently, he was giving her the silent treatment. She supposed it was better than having him in her face.

Mallard had gone around to the Sarge’s window. They said something to each other and then Sarge reached a hand out and Mallard gave him her switchblade.

Another point against her. Sarge kept telling her not to carry it around.

Sarge drove onto the street. Traffic was heavy. She couldn’t tell where they headed. Headquarters or the nearest precinct? Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

She unclasped her small purse and took out the heart she’d cut from the inside flap of Jonas’s coat. He would be pissed when he found out. Could be his favorite jacket, she’d only seen the one. But it wasn’t like he would chew her out now. He was done with her.

Her chest squeezed, and she rubbed there to ease the sensation.

Earlier this morning while Jonas took a shower, she’d cut the material out with tiny manicure scissors that had been laid out on his dresser. The jacket on the back of the chair had called to her, and the scissors were in her hand before she could stop herself. The perfect opportunity to take something to remember the night by. She’d always felt if she had something she could feel—touch in her hand—from a special moment, she could never believe it hadn’t happened, no matter how bad her life seemed at the moment. She’d have proof.

She clenched the heart into her fist. She needed all the proof she could to recall the way Jonas had kissed her, touched her so tenderly. Both inside and out. Because after the way he’d stared at her with such contempt, betrayal…disgust, it was as if the night had all been some wonderful dream. She’d thought she’d finally met someone who didn’t only see what was on the outside.

This time when her eyes burned, she didn’t blink away the tears that slid down her cheeks.

She jolted when the van stopped and Sarge shifted into park. She quickly wiped her face with her fingers.

They were outside her apartment building. She looked at the back of Sarge’s head. He sat motionless. His abnormal silence made her uncomfortable, like experiencing an itch she couldn’t reach.

“Get out.” His tone was gruff. She slipped the heart back into her purse and opened the sliding door. Frigid air eased its way into the van as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Her hand gripped the handle as she stood shivering on the sidewalk, but she couldn’t shut the door and run inside. Not yet. “Who’s the witness against Saven?”

“That’s confidential.”

Since when? “What happens now?”

“You’re off the mission.”

A finger of dread slid down her back.

“Stay put. Don’t go anywhere near Jonas Saven.” He finally turned to her. But his eyes were almost dead. “Do not disobey me. Do as you’re told for once and follow orders. Jay will be here to pick you up at nine tomorrow morning for questioning. I don’t want to see your face until then.” He tossed her the switchblade from his seat and she clumsily caught it against her stomach.

She swallowed hard. “All I’ve done for the past six months is follow your orders.”

“My orders weren’t to screw the suspect.”

Anger hit her like a slap. She tossed her hair out of her face. “Maybe I was doing whatever it took to complete this mission. Did you ever consider that?”

“It crossed my mind.” He shook his head and turned away. “Now I have to wonder if you were playing both sides.”

There was nothing else to be said. She wasn’t entirely sure his statement was that far from the truth.

Grabbing the handle, she slammed the van’s door shut.