Friction (11 page)

“Why? Just because I didn’t ‘fling’ with you?” She sat back, feeling pissed. E.J. had made a move on her shortly after he’d broken up with his fiancée. They’d just finished a case, she was a part of the team and they’d gone out for a beer together. He’d asked her if she’d be interested, and though she knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious, she’d said no. Emphatically. She’d had no interest in getting involved with anyone, especially not someone she worked so closely with.

“Man, you get nasty when someone hits a nerve. But no, not because of that. Because I’ve never even seen you on a date. And now you’re in this guy’s room.”

“Yeah, well, shows what you know. You have no idea
what I do in my free time.” She was fussing with things on her desk, wanting to escape, when she felt E.J.’s hand on her arm.

“Sarah, if this guy means something to you—if there are complications—it could make the job dangerous. You know that. That’s the professional reason I asked. The personal one is that I do know you, and I know that whatever happened out there, it’s changed things for you, hasn’t it?”

She acknowledged his question with a curt nod, but avoided eye contact. E.J. turned her around, made her meet his eyes. She hoped he couldn’t see any more than she wanted him to, though somehow, he always did.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this.”

“No, I am absolutely the one who should be doing this.” She grimaced. Didn’t anyone think she was capable of doing her job these days?

“I’ll be fine. You and Ian will be hooked in the whole time. It’s just reconnaissance, anyway. There won’t be any action.”

“You never know, Sarah. You know that.”

“Okay, fine. Are you done poking around in my business now?”

E.J. leaned in to kiss her on her cheek. He was never put off, no matter how prickly she got. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

“You just be careful.”

“I plan on it.”

L
OGAN MADE
the tail before they could really know what he was up to, but it burned his ass anyway. He’d
shaken it by slipping out of the motel through a back exit he’d located, and drank coffee for the three hours he had to waste until he caught a taxi to the docks. It wasn’t like he was born yesterday.

Not only had Sarah gone over his head and reported his case to her superiors, but apparently they’d decided they were going to horn in on the case whether he cooperated or not. In the space of a day they’d gone from lovers to adversaries.

He was most definitely not cooperating. He had a good lead on them, and he’d used a fake ID to sign up for the cruise. As far as any of the ledgers showed, Karl MacKenzie was headed off for blissful two days of gambling at sea. He took just one bag with him, and most of the contents of his bank account. He didn’t count on actually gaming all that much, but he had to appear like the genuine article, and that meant emptying his paltry savings to bring on the boat.

One phone call was all it had taken to find out which ship Mel had been on. He’d gotten the right person on the phone. She sounded young, and he’d put on his cop voice and asked for the information—which she never should have offered—but in two minutes he knew what he needed to know. One more call had him on board the same boat.

Reaching the boarding dock, he took in the shining sides of the sleek, white yacht. Its name,
The Gem,
was painted in gold-and-black script on the stern. Small satellite dishes were placed at inconspicuous angles, and
video cameras were everywhere. State-of-the-art security electronics, no doubt. And a sizable vault.

He walked forward and was greeted cheerfully by an older man dressed in a very expensive suit. Vince Valente, the boat’s owner, most likely. He was then directed to a friendly young staff member who welcomed him aboard and offered to take his bag. Logan declined. He was directed toward his cabin, and Logan muttered his thanks, finding his own way.

It was a small boat, only accommodating up to a hundred passengers at any one time, but it was the top of the line in luxury and style. A very classy operation, at least on the surface. He wanted to find proof of what might be going on here under the glitz and gloss. And he had to work quickly. He’d only been able to afford the overnight package, and who knew if Sarah was on to him by now.

Walking down the narrow passageway, he skimmed past the ornate crystal hurricane lamps on the bulkheads and the artwork on the walls. He found his cabin number, slid his key card into the slot, and entered. It was a small cabin, smaller than your average hotel room but more luxuriously appointed. The bed was a double and took up most of the space. No television, no phone, no computer connections—no way for anyone to pass the time except for sleeping or gambling. He looked at the soft bed, and his thoughts went back to Sarah.

He knew she wouldn’t give up. And part of him admired her for it, while the other part couldn’t accept that she wanted to place herself in harm’s way just to
help him, or even to make peace with her painful past. He couldn’t live with being party to putting her in danger.

He had nothing against women cops—Mel had been one of the best—but he hadn’t been intimate with Mel. He hadn’t cared for her in the same way. It hurt bad enough to have lost a friend, and Sarah promised to be much more than a friend. When she’d walked out of his room he’d nearly called her back, but he had nothing to say. He wasn’t about to change his mind.

And now it was done. The tail they’d put on him had made it evident where her loyalties lay, and he accepted that, even if he didn’t like it. He wondered if they’d contacted his captain. He was probably fired already, and that inspired even more of a feeling of recklessness. Sarah said they’d promised to keep a low profile, but that was when they thought he was cooperating.

Maybe he could have used their help—he wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what he was looking for, or what he would uncover here. Even if the operation was used to trap unsuspecting women, they could be taking them back to the mainland to a filming studio or a warehouse where the porn was manufactured. His stomach rolled again, thinking of it.

He would just have to wing it—it wouldn’t be the first time. He was here, he was on his own, and he was going to see what he could find. After a quick shower he dressed slowly, going over his game plan. Sliding his key card in his pocket, he exited the cabin and followed a group of formally dressed men and women up to the
main deck. He was glad he’d rented a tux. Everyone was dressed to the nines.

He emerged into a space that stunned him for a moment with its grandiosity: bright light settled on rich mahogany tables, cream cushions on the chairs invited people to sit for just a little while longer, and a glittering bar dominated the port side. At the far end a buffet of expensive treats tempted him, the aroma reminding him he hadn’t eaten much since leaving the inn.

He made his way to the bar, handed the bartender his key card, and ordered a beer. The little magnetic card did more than open your stateroom door. It also opened your credit card and cash accounts while you were on board. High-tech convenience and cash—it also meant customers ran up invisible expenses during their stay, and could drain their accounts without much effort.

He took the bottle and looked at the beer, sliding the glass back toward the bartender. Of course they only had the most expensive brands. It wasn’t really a high rollers’ club, but was geared toward making middle-class customers feel like part of the elite. Become part of the upper crust and suddenly you can afford to throw money around like them, too.

He turned as a cheer went up from an adjoining room—apparently someone was on a winning streak. The section he was in housed craps and blackjack. He made his way toward the food, planning to eat before he lost a little money, and then hopefully he could slip away unnoticed and start his search.

Hot and cold specialties were set before him on shin
ing silver plates and crystal dishes. He would have been happy with a loaded burger, but he settled for a slab of prime rib.

Looking over the rest of the food, his eye caught something sparkling at the periphery of his vision. He followed the bait, catching a glimpse of smooth skin peeking through a slit in a glittering, cobalt-blue dress.

He admired the shapely foot at the end of the perfect calf, fitted into a heel that looked sharp enough to kill someone. Suddenly he understood why some guys liked their women to keep their shoes on while they did it. A husky voice spoke close by his ear, and he realized the wearer of the shoe was addressing him. He’d been caught peeking. She said only one word.

“Hungry?”

He closed his eyes, his grip tightening on his plate, then looked up. Sure enough, when he opened them, they were looking right back into the most wicked, beautiful blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“Sarah.”

H
E SHOOK HIS HEAD
. “I should have known.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Sarah’s tone was light, but her expression was neutral, giving nothing away. It was all he could do to manage the same. They didn’t know who was watching.

She smiled, though the expression didn’t reach her eyes, and he looked away, back at the food, relieved his voice sounded unconcerned.

“So how’d you figure it out?”

“Easy enough. Just traced a few phone calls—”

“From the motel.”

She nodded and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I knew I should have used a pay phone, but I couldn’t with your man on me.”

“I was surprised you didn’t shake him sooner.”

“In my own city, in my own car, I would have. But time was short, and I had to get where I needed to go.”

She smiled, hoping they looked like two singles meeting over the buffet.

“Let’s eat and talk.”

“I don’t think so. You may be here, but I’m still working alone.”

“Fine. Since you’re not into working together, I guess I won’t tell you what I’ve found so far.”

She walked to a small, unoccupied table and sat down. She didn’t invite him, but he pulled out the other chair and sat anyway.

“What you’ve found? You’ve only been here a few hours.”

She reached over and tugged his tie lightly. “Stop growling and try to look like you’re actually interested in me.”

Something changed slightly in his eyes and he grasped her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her palm, causing her breath to hitch.

“I am interested in you. You know that. That dress, by the way, is killing me.”

She felt her cheeks warm—God, how long had it been since she’d blushed? She cleared her throat, easing her hand away.

“Um, you should know, we have company.”

He looked around. “Where?”

Lifting her fingers to the onyx choker she wore, she spoke lightly.

“My necklace is a bug. Ian and E.J. can track me and hear every word I say, and every word said within about four yards.”

His eyebrows raised, and he reached forward, sliding his thumb under the gold band, sending a shiver over her skin.

“I’m surprised they haven’t picked it up yet—their security is tuned to find electronics that could be used for cheating.”

“This is top-secret stuff—the shipboard system can’t detect it. We’re beta testing it for the feds.”

“Cool.” He leaned in closer, dropping his eyes to the soft skin of her throat. “Then your partners can hear me tell them to take a hike and stop trying to mess with my case.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure they heard that, loud and clear. I’m also pretty sure they don’t really care. This isn’t just your case anymore.”

His brown eyes glittered and he drew back, switching his attention to the dinner he’d been ignoring.

“So what did you find?”

“Oh, all of a sudden you want information from me? Pack sand. I’m going to go play.”

She stood up, and his hand was like a whip, closing around her wrist and holding her still.

Heat flowed through her blood, temper and desire, and she fought equal impulses to deck him and to kiss him. It hadn’t been long since those hands had touched her everywhere—and her body’s responses leaped in remembrance.

“Hands off, Logan.”

They were interrupted by a man who approached them, speaking quietly and politely. “Is there a problem here, ma’am?” The guy looked more like a bridegroom than a security guard, and Sarah decided within a second that she still wanted to try to get Logan on her side.

“No, I just want to go play, and my new friend…” She looked at him engagingly, and he tipped his head in acknowledgment.

“Karl.”

She smiled brightly. “My new friend Karl is taking forever to eat his dinner.”

The man still watched Logan suspiciously. “The buffet is available until ten, and after that you can special order anything you want from the kitchen until 2:00 a.m., sir, when the rooms close.”

Logan smiled, thanked the man and walked to Sarah’s side. He wasn’t hungry anymore, either way.

“I guess you’re my date for the evening.” His hand settled at the bare skin at the small of her back where the dress dipped low. “Karl MacKenzie, at your service.”

She forced herself to concentrate on her job, and not on his touch, but it was getting difficult. Logan had shown her many new things about herself in the last few days, and one of them was that she could apparently be extremely angry with a man and still want him naked.

“What’s your game?” He spoke casually, perusing the tables.

“I’ve never really gambled. I never had enough money to throw away. And you don’t look at all like a Karl.”

He just smiled, as if they were exchanging the most fascinating conversation in the world. “Oh, they’re going to love you.”

“I’m a quick learner.”

“I’ll bet. Why don’t we start with blackjack? There’s not too much strategy to it, and it’s fun.”

Feeling contrary, she approached the craps table. She smiled brightly at the stickman, announcing cheerfully, “I’ve always wanted to try this, it looks like so much fun on TV—you know, I watch that Las Vegas TV show all the time, but they don’t really tell you the rules. And there are all the odds to calculate, right?”

Logan rolled his eyes and stood by her side at the table. He saw the barely hidden smile of the guy running the table—he knew he had a live one. As she listened to the rules, Sarah was all but jumping up and down with innocent enthusiasm. Everyone around her bought it hook, line and sinker. Logan had no idea she could be such a little actress.

Her talent—or lack thereof—at gambling only helped her case. She lost roll after roll, pouting prettily and handing the dealer her key card to load up again.

“Maybe we should change games, sweetheart? Your luck doesn’t seem to be very good.”

She smiled sweetly at Logan. “Hmmm. Maybe you’re right. Let’s try that blackjack thing you were talking about.”

As they moved between the tables, Logan leaned down, whispering in her ear.

“You’ve lost about three grand, honey—how are you backing up all this debt?”

“It’s going on a tab based on my credit card limits. Of course, it’s a fake card number. A dummy account we set up before I got here. But if I’m guessing right, I won’t have to worry about paying it.”

“How’s that?”

She smiled brightly, leaning over a little too far as she sat at the blackjack table, letting the dealer sneak a little peek. Logan closed his eyes and prayed for patience. He also prayed for a chance to slip out of here pretty soon and get some of his own searching done. Sarah, as usual, was botching all of his carefully laid plans. She gave the dealer her key card to get some chips, and chose her seat.

“Hey, sugar, spank me.” She winked at the dealer and the young man looked like he was about to faint.

“It’s ‘hit me,’” Logan clarified.

“Same diff.” She winked again, and looked at her cards.

Logan put in a bet and played as well. Losing, of course. However, Sarah actually won the next hand, and the hand after that. She was a quick learner. Logan played, watching her clap when she won and flirt outrageously with the dealer. He wondered if she noticed Valente standing in the corner. He’d been watching her all evening, making Logan want to stand in front of her, protecting her from the other man’s gaze.

By the end of the evening though, Sarah had lost a significant amount of money. Logan was out quite a bit, too, though he was actually losing real money. Impatience and anxiety about wasting time and losing cash pushed his bad mood to the limit and when Sarah emerged from the ladies’ room, he caught her elbow and pulled her into a dark alcove.

“Okay, we’ve established cover, and we’re running short on time. I’m going to go see what I can find.”

She shook her head. “The security’s tight here—you won’t find much before they notice you skulking around.”

“So what do you suggest?”

She reached up, closing her fingers around his lapels, pulling him a little closer.

“Come back to my room.”

“Sarah, this isn’t the time—”

“I know. But I have this gut feeling about how things are working here. I draw attention to myself, look like I want some action. I lose a lot of money—maybe more than I can pay back, right? So maybe they have a way I can pay it back otherwise.”

“By letting them film you?”

“Good guess. But I think they had me targeted as soon as I showed up on the boat.”

“How can you tell?”

“My room is full of hidden cameras. High-fidelity video and audio that would never be noticeable unless you were looking for it. I looked.”

“Do you think they made you?”

“No. I just fit the profile—single, female—the kind of person who might bring someone back to her room and give the perverts something to watch. They’re probably watching in the meantime, though. The bathroom seemed safe. Thank God.”

“I didn’t even check my room.”

“I don’t think it’s all the rooms, just a select few. But it’s enough for us to bust them on invading privacy laws when we get back to shore, probably.”

“I want them on more than that. They can swat a charge like that aside without breaking a sweat.”

She stared at him intently. “I know. But maybe if you come back with me and help…bait the trap, I’ll get an offer before long. If I take them up on it, I may get access to find evidence of what happened to those women. If I can just get near their computers, I can load a virus and hack in from the mainland when we disembark.”

Logan hated to admit it, but she did have a good plan worked out, and it had a chance of working. The problem was that she was a prime target through the entire process—they could find out at any moment who she was or what she was up to, and he wouldn’t necessarily be able to help.

“I don’t like it. What am I supposed to be doing through all of this?”

“Keep an eye out and make sure they don’t end up throwing me overboard.”

“Not funny.”

“I know. Sorry.” She took a deep breath. “Wanna go back to my cabin and put a show they can’t resist? I know we can get them, Logan. Trust me.”

He wasn’t ready for any of this. He didn’t like it, but it seemed he had very little choice. If he wanted to find who’d taken Mel, Sarah was his best bet. And if she was going to have any backup whatsoever other than two guys ten miles away listening in, he was it. He took her hand, and just hoped she was right.

T
HEY HADN’T BEEN
this awkward together since they’d met—although it had only been a little less than a week ago, so she didn’t have too much to compare to.

As Logan hung back by the door, hesitant, his eyes filled with repressed desire and caution, Sarah knew she had to get him to loosen up. In spite of the tension between them, she knew he wanted her.

Throwing her wrap over the side of a chair, she went toward him. She heard his quick intake of breath as she pressed up close, planting a kiss just under his ear, and whispering.

“You have to take part in this. It won’t be convincing if you stand by the door looking ready to flee.”

He dipped his head, brushing his mouth over hers, then buried his face in her neck, and for a melting moment she wondered if she was going to be able to stay disconnected enough to get the job done.

“Where are the cameras?”

The words brought her back into focus—the idea of being taped zapped whatever desire she felt being close to Logan again.

“Over the bed in the light fixture, behind the bed in the picture frame, and in the dresser mirror.”

“They made sure to get all the angles.” He nipped her lightly, sliding his hand down to her backside and squeezing lightly, drawing her against him.

“We’ll just give them enough to whet their appetite—we won’t let things go too far. I know this is…hard for you.”

“You have no idea.”

He walked her backward toward the bed, taking control and kissing the daylights out of her. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe as his arms tightened around her, his lips moving on hers like he was starving for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing every inch of her body in contact with his. The thin material of her dress was hardly a barrier against the heat and hardness of him, and she let herself revel in it. Logan tasted and felt like no other man alive.

His hand moved up to cup her breast and she arched into him. She had missed his touch. He murmured his appreciation against her lips and slid the shoulder of the gown lower so he could trace kisses over the skin there, and lower.

Sarah was barely aware that he was shielding her from the invasive view of the cameras by blocking any clear view of her body with his. She hadn’t worn a bra under the dress, and when he tugged at a tight nipple with his teeth, she bit her lip to keep from crying out against the searing pleasure she felt, but a hungry moan escaped her lips despite her efforts.

He nudged her toward the bed until the backs of her knees hit the edge and she crumbled down to the bed. He lifted himself over her, shielding her from the camera eye above, but also parting her legs with his knee so he could insert his thigh against her, pressing intimately, rubbing his erection against her as he stared down.

She covered her exposed breast from view under the auspices of touching herself, and watched him stand, rip off his tie and slowly unbutton his shirt. She shivered,
missing the heat of his body against hers, consumed with need as she watched him, but aware they couldn’t let things go too far. This was just for show.

She hated that it was so easy to lose track, that her need for him was so strong. Wanting was one thing, needing was new territory. Dangerous territory.

When he knelt over her again, he reached down and slid his hands over her shoulders to her neck. Was he trying something kinky? She stilled, not understanding until she felt his fingers feeling for the clasp on her choker. She groaned again, though not from arousal—she’d completely forgotten that Ian and E.J. were listening in on the other side of the transmitter she wore.

Logan tossed the choker onto the chair by the porthole, hopefully far enough to be out of range. She didn’t even want to think about what her partners had already heard. But it was all part of the plan, right? Logan whispered in her ear.