Jermy, Marie - Together Forever [The Andersons 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (18 page)

“What was that? And what’s
this
?” Jessica cried, her eyes widening as she was pulled around to the passenger door.

“What does it look like?” Bemused by her aghast expression, Ross explained, “After I retrieved the BlackBerry from your apartment, I discovered I had a flat. I didn’t want to waste time on changing it, so since we need wheels, I took your Mini. Did you know you’d left it unlocked?”

“But how did you start it? I’ve got the keys.” She dangled a bunch of keys in front of his face.

“I hot-wired it.” Her aghast expression increased as she peered in the window at the damaged steering column cowling and the dangling wires. “Look, I know it’s your pride and joy, but—”

“You don’t understand. It’s not mine anymore. I sold it. The money I was going to get was going to be the first payment I agreed to pay for the back rent I owed on Magnum Investigations. She’ll never buy it now.” She spun around and poked her forefinger into his chest. “Thanks, Ross. You’ve just cost me five grand.”

Ross felt something kick in his gut. Jessica’s anguish was very real. And very honest. “I’ll pay for the damage. Have it fully serviced and cleaned. It’ll look as if it’s just left the showroom. You’ll find another buyer, no prob. And you’ll get more than five grand. Hell, if it weren’t a stick shift the size of a sardine tin, I’d buy it for eight.” Her smile was soft and pretty. Something else kicked, this time in his chest. He grimly suspected it was one of those steel barriers slipping. He opened the door and nearly shoved her into the passenger seat. “Let’s go, Jessica.”

* * * *

Jessica couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up when Ross wedged himself behind the steering wheel. Even if he’d been in the backseat, he’d still have looked squashed. Another giggle escaped when he slouched down to avoid flattening his head against the roof.

“Oh, laugh it up Miss Fit-For-A-Straitjacket-For-Believing-In-Ghosts Ferris. Or I’ll take a tin opener to this can and turn it into a convertible.”

She winced when he crunched gears and shot out of the parking lot with all the speed of a rocket. “Ross, be careful, or it’ll need more than a full service. And don’t poke fun at me for believing in ghosts, not when I know you’re a believer, too.”

“And how do you figure that?” He darted between lanes in order to beat the heavy build-up of traffic then braked sharply when a familiar vehicle suddenly pulled in front of him. “Great, just great. As if I haven’t enough fond memories of our fine city’s waste disposal system.” The yellow cab beside him turned onto a side street, so he moved across to fill the space, accelerated, and overtook the garbage truck, cutting across it just in time to turn down the street he wanted.

“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to turn us into ghosts. Either that or get a ticket for speeding.” She clutched the seatbelt tighter when Ross pressed the accelerator down to the floor another inch. “You killed Harknett. Shot him in the head. You know you did. So when you saw him last night, you knew you were seeing a ghost.”

“Bull!” he said, harshly. “Like you said, it was somebody in a latex mask. Either that or the bullet I lodged into Harknett’s brain didn’t kill him. He fell into some sort of suspended animation and woke up in the morgue. Decided he didn’t like the accommodation and checked out.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do. And as for the latex mask, I lied. But I’m not lying now. I’m being straight.” Jessica looked across at Ross. The tension in his square jaw was abating. “Why did you ask Rafferty about camera footage at the bar?”

“I thought it would help in identifying whoever saw you take that BlackBerry.”

“Only two people saw that, Ross. You and Harknett.” Ross gave a loud snort, so she changed the subject. Well, sort of. “I didn’t get a lot out of Rafferty. He’s very tight-lipped about his life. Not that I gave much away about mine when he asked me. I think he knows anyway. Knows about you, too. I find him odd.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to her. “What do you mean odd?”

“Odd. Creepy. Cold. There’s something about him that’s not…He’s breathing, yet he’s not alive.” Though his lips quirked, she noticed Ross was listening with interest. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think he’s a ghost…I mean, not a ghost as in dead, but a…You know, like a see-all-know-all shadow. He can blend into the background then reappear when necessary. I once called him a jerk, but he’s not, he’s smart.”

“I still don’t believe in ghosts.”

“So what was that ‘walking through walls’ crack about then? Is that how he scared the crap out of you last night, by walking through a wall?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “I know exactly what he does. He transfers from precinct to precinct, assigned to investigating specialized cases. I have a name for detectives like him. A floater.”

“Like a dead body?” she asked innocently.

* * * *

Ross mentally planted his foot up his ass. His hand was on the gearshift by her knee, and as Jessica rested hers on top, entwining her fingers through his, the amber flecks in her eyes glowing, he felt another barrier slipping. Not to mention a growing hardness in his jeans. Time to nip this in the bud. “Jessica, I promise you I’ll do everything to protect you, even if it means standing in front of a bullet. But I meant what I said before. We’re just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.” He went to pull his hand away, but her fingers tightened around his. “Jessica…”

“Yes?”

Her tone was throaty. Instantly, the already small space between them seemed to shrink further, and the air became heavy and charged. With sex. Ross let rip with a silent stream of curses. He had to stay focused and remember the bullshit that had come out of his mouth only five seconds earlier. The “we’re just friends” bullshit, that is.

But how could they be just friends when they’d already crossed the line into lovers?

No, he had to remember and concentrate on his vow to protect her. And not the sort of protection that evoked images of tangled sheets and sweaty, sated bodies, either. A horn sounded behind them. Silently, he removed her hand and pulled away, keeping his attention firmly on the road and not on the uncomfortable throbbing in his jeans. Or the ache in his chest.

Jessica swore. She shifted lower in her seat and removed the BlackBerry from the inner pocket of his blazer that she wore. “Do you think Rafferty knows about this?”

“I’d like to say no,” Ross replied, doing a damned good job, even if he did say so himself, of ignoring how her dress had ridden up to midthigh. “But, like you said, he’s smart. I can’t work out whose side he’s on. I mean, he says he’s on ours. He’s a cop, a real, honest-to-God good cop. And yet, I don’t trust him. There’s something about him that’s not right. And I don’t mean his poor circulation, either.”

He slid her a “ghost-my-ass” look. “Also, that BlackBerry bothers me. I think there’s something going on here, something bigger than drug trafficking. I just don’t know what.”

“We crack the password and maybe we’ll find out.”

“Maybe.” Ross fell silent, just concentrating on driving and not the brushing of his hand against Jessica’s knee every time he changed gear for the slowing traffic in front of them. Every sense was on high alert. He swore blind he could feel and hear every breath she took, her heart beating in time with his. As one.

He rolled down the window. The cooling breeze did little to alleviate the electricity that still zapped between them like an impending thunderstorm. He found a CD in the door pocket, one that he’d recorded for her of her favorite 1980s songs, and inserted it into the CD player-radio. The first track—Alice Cooper’s “
Poison”
—
only fuelled his fire. He went to switch to a radio station, but she swatted his hand away.

“No, leave it. You know I love this song.”

Jessica began singing, and Ross clenched his jaw until he felt sure it would crack.

Those lyrics were sweet torture, and no truer words. Sweat popped up on his brow and he gripped the steering wheel harder. His blood roared through his veins, and his growing cock throbbed for release. Didn’t she realize he was skirting the edge of control? Both on and off the road?

“So, Ross, where’s this place you’re hiding me? You know the one that’s the last place on earth that anybody, alive or dead, will even think of looking for me.”

Her abrupt change of subject caught Ross by surprise. Fortunately, it also halted him from making a spectacular mess in his jeans. He uttered a silent prayer of thanks and then glanced in her direction. “Can’t you guess, Jessica?”

* * * *

Jessica felt her stomach bubble with unease at Ross’s mocking grin. She couldn’t keep up with his abrupt changes in mood. First he told her they were friends not lovers, then he behaved as though he wanted to ram home the point that she was his woman, and his alone. And moments before, she’d been close to orgasm from watching his reactions to her singing. He’d appeared to have been on the verge of orgasm, too. Now, all she wanted to do was run away and hide. From him. Which was ridiculous. There was no other man she’d rather be with. And this hiding place would, without doubt, be safe. So why did she feel so uneasy?

The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge loomed up. She knew where he was taking her. Yes, it was the last place on earth anybody would look for her, but it was also the last place she wanted to be.

“Ross, don’t yank my chain. Tell me we’re not going to Senator Williamson’s drafty mansion?”

* * * *

Rafferty removed his cell phone from his inside jacket pocket and punched one of the speed dial buttons. It was answered after one ring. “It’s me. We’ve got a problem.”

The tone from the man on the end of the line suggested he was laughing. “Charlie’s pissed ’cause not only are you still screwing his wife, but you’ve been asked to take his position at the Federation? Could have been worse. They could’ve asked me. Just think of all those rattling closets.”

Rafferty allowed a brief, wry smile. “We’ve not only lost Harknett, but his associate as well. Oh, and if that isn’t bad enough, Detective Anderson doesn’t trust me.”

“Where’s Jessica? Is she safe?”

“She’s with Anderson, so yeah, she’s safe. He’s going to hide her somewhere, and as he put it, it’s going to be the last place on earth anybody, alive or dead, will look for her.”

“Don’t s’pose you know where?”

Rafferty stared at the intermittent blinking dot on the open palmtop in front of him. “As a matter of fact, I do. And you know what that means. If I know, chances are Harknett knows, too. I’ve given Anderson my piece, but he still refuses to believe what he’s dealing with. I’m not convinced he’s right for the Federation. I mean, if he doesn’t believe then—” He was interrupted.

“Where are they?”

“As I was saying, if he doesn’t believe, then how can he fight—” Again, he was interrupted.

“Where the fuck are they!”

He inhaled and exhaled a deep, long breath before answering. “The Magnum Investigations’ office.”

“You need help. I’ll meet you there.”

“No! I can handle this. You stay where you—” The dial tone snarled in his ear. Exasperated, Rafferty swore and threw his cell phone across the office. He stared at the now static dot. Then, rising to his feet, he retrieved his phone and strode from his office. Time to turn a nonbeliever into a believer.

Chapter 11

Ross did not yank Jessica’s chain. He really did take her to Senator Williamson’s drafty mansion.

Despite an impressive view of ocean swells glinting like millions of diamonds in the midafternoon sun and the cheerful sound of tweeting birds, the gray-brick house still gave Jessica the creeps.

“Ross, this is crazy,” she said for the umpteenth time since their arrival. “Somebody is going to see. And the alarm will go off.” As usual though, he ignored her and carried on using a Swiss Army knife, sliding the penknife blade between the frame and the catch on a ground-floor sash window and jiggling it until the catch popped.