Criminal Promises (21 page)

The typed words covered a plain white sheet
of paper. Flipping the paper over, the image of peaceful suburban
life with a wife on the outskirts of the fun stared up at him. The
photo was of Mike and Jared playing ball on the front lawn. Maggie
stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of her, shadows
lingered in her eyes, and her shoulders were slightly slouched.

Those shoulders still carried a heavy load,
heavier now than then, but she no longer slouched or accepted
defeat. As if proving the point, she stepped closer and turned the
photo, a likely souvenir from one of Adalia’s visits to her home,
toward her with the tip of her nail.

“I’ve never seen this
picture, but I remember this day. It was the day before Mike’s
death.”

“This wasn’t
yours?”

Her eyes filled with
determined suspicion. “No.”

“She was watching
Mike.”
No surprise there.

Craig stepped around the
counter to stand on Maggie’s other side. “And knew his time was
running out.”

“Sorry, Mags.”

She shook her head and waved BD on to the
next page.

2 - REACT FASTER

Slipping the second sheet of white paper
aside, BD’s knees and legs dissolved. He grabbed the edge of the
counter and closed his eyes. Darkness whirled with memories, loss
and hate. The sketch Samantha had drawn mocked him. It was one of
the few things he’d kept from that life, but he hadn’t been able to
stomach looking at the eerily lifelike rendering of a blue-eyed
infant.

Maggie looked between them
with confusion stamped on her features. “I don’t get
it.”

“It’s a long story for
later,” Craig said.

Much later.
“Adalia took this the day I moved in.” It was her
way of reminding them Maggie wasn’t the only target. “Bitch gets
points for knowing where to strike.”

And she’d just dealt her losing hand. BD slid
the paper to the side.

1 - SOON

Uncovering the last picture, seeing him and
Maggie sitting close together on the picnic table, anger broiled
through his veins. It had been snapped from high in one of the
neighboring trees as they’d talked about Mike. The moment he’d
opened up enough to trust Maggie while breaking her heart again was
forever caught on film.

Craig’s eyes flashed to his and he knew his
friend had seen the truth. With it staring him in the face,
impossible to ignore, he recognized for the first time what he’d
been working so hard to deny. He cared deeply for Maggie and every
quirky, obsessive-compulsive part of her.

“She’s trying to push us
with this,” Craig kept the conversation on business while his store
promised a long talk later. “This was delivered to the station
before I went in to update Cap on our plan.”

“She’ll know very soon, if
she doesn’t already, we have the scrolls.” A best friend capable of
reading your thoughts could be a pain in the ass. He also made the
best wingman a guy could ask for by keeping the really big secrets.
“Mags. Are you all right?”

She met his eyes boldly.
Nope. Pure, unadulterated rage fired in her generally peaceful and
sometimes sad gaze. “I will be.”

“I’ll call and update
Cap.” Craig pulled his phone from his pocket and headed to the
other room.

BD took Maggie’s hand and
led her to the table. Sitting beside her, the damning need to stop
the woman responsible for threatening her clenched his gut. “No one
would blame you for being scared.”

“Are you?
Scared?”

“I’d be dead if this stuff
didn’t scare me.”

She pinched the bridge of
her nose, something he always did. “I don’t understand.”

“We’re afraid every time
we go into a potentially dangerous situation. Instead of letting it
rule us, we use it to focus on the job.” Failure meant death, and
as much as he’d dreaded life at times death had never really been
an option.

“How? What do you do to
force yourself beyond the fear?”

Wanting, needing, the
reassurance of her nearness, hoping to reassure her in return, he
bracketed her knees between his own and rubbed his hands over her
thighs. “If we fail, people lose their lives. It’s a harsh reality,
but by keeping it in mind, by remembering to be smarter than
whoever we’re after, we have the advantage. No one else will die at
Adalia’s hands.”

She linked her fingers with
his over her legs, connecting them with a quiet intimacy. “Her mind
games bug me. How do I stop that?”

He wasn’t sure when they’d
stopped fighting their attraction, but he would enjoy the moments.
“You’ve already done it. You refuse to let her run you off. That’s
courage.”

He raised her hand, kissing
her knuckles as it was the only way he could show her how much he
cared. “I’ll keep you safe, Mags.”

She smiled and her entire
face softened like it did in rare instances of relaxed happiness
she slowed herself. “Tell me what we do to end this. I want my life
back.”

Maggie had been reading
Mike’s translations over and over for hours when the phone rang.
Intent on the symbol to letter code sheet Mike hadn’t finished, she
grabbed it without checking caller ID. “Hello.”

“You and Detective Harte
make a lovely couple.” She’d never spoken to Adalia Wood, but the
cultivated charm was the same she’d heard in the courtroom. The
charm did nothing to hide her evilness. “Such passion.”

A cold shiver coursed down
Maggie’s spine as she spun around. The window blinds were closed,
as were all the blinds in the house. “Excuse me?”

Harte dropped the notes
he’d been re-reading into the armchair, crossed the room in two
strides and towered over her, dominating her space and the room.
“Adalia,” he mouthed silently.

Maggie nodded and focused on the call. Harte
pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a few
numbers.

“Have you gotten my
notes?”

“They’re vague.” Leaning
against the desk, she wondered at her absence of thoughts.
Shouldn’t her mind be racing with them? “Why don’t you tell me why
you want these papers?”

“I like that you don’t
play games. That you don’t pretend to not have them.”

Harte circled his hand in front of her,
prompting her to keep Adalia talking. All the while he spoke into
his phone so quietly she wondered how whoever he spoke to heard
him, because even inches away she couldn’t.

“It would only delay the
inevitable.” The final confrontation with Adalia had been delayed
enough. She wasn’t ready to see BD, but was more than ready for
life to normalize.

“You’re right,” Adalia
agreed amiably, “but it won’t save your life.”

Icy chills scraped along Maggie’s skin. Fear
grabbed her by the throat. She leaned forward, struggling to
breathe beyond the pain pricks stabbing at her intestines. Buzzing
in her ears almost drowned out her thoughts.

The buzzing was Adalia’s
voice. “You’re a beautiful woman with cute kids, Maggie. You have a
lot of self-control. More than your slut sister.”

Harte’s hand landed on her
back. Strong. She glanced into his eyes. Calm. Straightening, she
shot her fears the middle finger. “You like watching me, Adalia?
Would you prefer it if I opened the blinds and gave you more of a
show?”

“I wonder what it takes to
send you over the edge.” The charm gave away to tightly suppressed
rage and Maggie pictured Adalia’s knuckles whitening on the
phone.

“You can find out when you
come get the papers.”

“The clock’s
ticking.”

“Care to tell me how long
I have?” She was losing any control she’d had over the call with
Adalia’s ramping anger.

“I didn’t plan on killing
Mike. I liked him.” She ignored Maggie’s question. “I can’t say the
same about you and Harte.”

“We both know you’d have
killed him once you had the papers.” Dread cooled Maggie’s blood.
Harte lightly thumped her chin, pulling her attention back to
Adalia. If she had something the woman wanted, then she was
relatively safe. At least until she got it. “Is there a point to
this conversation other than your weak attempt to get inside my
head?”

“You will fear
me.”

Maggie’s bravado held out
long enough for her to ease a casual shrug into her tone, needling
Adalia. “Listen, I have a lot to do. Why don’t you come over? We’ll
end this now.”

“Get rid of your
bodyguard.”

“Harte scares
you?”

“I don’t like
prison.”

“And here I thought you’d
be more than just a talking ego.” Maggie laughed. “Besides, he
can’t put you behind bars if you kill him.”

Maggie’s guts knotted with sickness at the
idea of BD being killed.

“You’ll beg me for mercy
before you die, Maggie.” Adalia’s ego invaded her growl of
frustration. “Don’t try any tricks.”

The phone went silent.

BD held in the curse. No trace. Adalia had
likely used a burner phone and the signal bounced between towers.
She’d been on the move while he was feeling more like a rat cage in
a glass-encased maze with Adalia tapping the lid to create
confusion.

Suppressing useless aggravation, he knelt
before Maggie. He ached to pull her close and comfort her, but
instead made her recount the conversation.

“It’s okay, Mags.” He
cupped her face and held her gaze. “She’s trying to freak you out
before she makes her move.”

“I think it’s
working.”

“No. You can do this.”
Though if they’d had time to bring in an undercover cop to act as
decoy he would have done it. “She won’t make a move as long as I’m
here.”

“You can’t be here
twenty-four seven.”

He sank back onto his
heels. The pressure to save her, to avoid involvement, built until
he couldn’t ignore the desire anymore. “How can I help you feel
better? What can I do to take your mind off everything for a little
bit?”

She could ask for anything, and he’d walk
barefoot through running lava to give it to her.

“Kiss me
again.”

He hadn’t expected that.

An inch away, so close he
smelled the fragrant scent she always wore, the image of her blood
had him pulling back. He could give her anything but that. Moving
to the next level with her blurred the lines of why he was here.
Protect her. Catch a killer. Nothing more. “Mags.”

She slid a fingertip over
his mouth, pleading with her eyes. “Please.”

Tracing a thumb over her
bottom lip, plump from her chewing teeth, he yearned. To feel her.
To give her pleasure. To know that in the midst of her pain and
loss
he
was able
to give her something special.

Don’t do it.

A molten core of passion rested untapped just
below the surface of her skin. Rapture drifted through him at the
thought of being the one to awaken her.

“Be sure, Mags.”
This is a mistake!
“If I
kiss you, it isn’t going to stop there.”

“I know.” Her tongue
darted out and brushed the tip of his thumb. “I want
you.”

Heat and arousal shot
south. Logic scattered. He stood and pulled her to her feet before
sliding her up his body. Holding her hips, he pulled her close so
she was pressed tight to him. “Wrap your legs around me. We’re
going for a ride.”

She locked her ankles behind his waist.
Smiling, she rubbed against his erection. Warm moisture penetrated
her clothes and seeped into him.

Determined not to drop her, or fall to the
floor because of weak knees, he headed for his room.

She tightened her legs, digging the gun he’d
tucked at his waist into his spine. The pain almost centered him in
reality. But holding her in his arms, knowing this was a moment’s
escape from threats and danger, promised pure pleasure. He intended
for them both to enjoy.

This wasn’t a permanent relationship, but
neither was she a hit-and-run screw. After he left—and he would
leave because a happily-ever-after with a ready-made family wasn’t
in his future—she would not remember him as selfish in bed.

Carrying her down the hall, her soft curves
fitting against him naturally, her fingers tangled in his hair and
soft brushes of her fingertips against his neck shot sparks of fire
through his veins.

His gaze moved over her face. The tip of her
tongue darted across her lips. Her mouth parted again in
anticipation.

Primitive need snaked through him. His heart
rate rocketed. He wanted to kiss her. Taste her.

“Screw it.” Pinning her to
the wall, rocking his hips, and rubbing against the hot moisture
wetting her jeans, he claimed her mouth.

Their tongues dueled. Muscle sliding against
muscle. She moaned and arched against him. His knees buckled and
slammed into the wall. No woman had ever launched him as far into
full arousal as Maggie had with a whispered request for a kiss.

“Mmm.” Tilting her head,
she nibbled along his neck. “Burke.”

Angling his head to the
side, he closed his eyes and thrilled at her touch, at the sound of
his name rolling off her tongue when she’d only called him Harte
before. “Mags. Bed.”