L.A.P.D. Special Investigations Series, Boxed Set: The Deceived, The Taken & The Silent (19 page)

She looked away. “I guess that’s pretty selfish of me, isn’t it.”

He brought his fingers to her chin and lifted it so that he looked directly into her eyes. “I don’t think it’s selfish at all. And if it’s any consolation, I sometimes feel the same way.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

Desire hummed through her veins and in that moment, everything she’d wanted to experience a second ago narrowed to right here—to him. Only him.

She hoped what she saw in his eyes was a similar desire for her. But just as she thought it, he stood up. Cleared his throat.

“We’d better get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ADAM WAITED FOR JILLIAN to rise from the table, then gestured for her to walk ahead of him.

He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to retain his self-control if they’d carried on the way they’d been going. He wanted her so badly he could taste it. Taste her.

But morning would come soon enough and with it, he imagined a whole new set of problems. He wasn’t about to go for more.

Outside, the saturated air felt like a warm, wet towel against his skin, making him think of hot, sweaty sex, skin against skin. Jillian’s. Moving along, he wiped his brow. How the hell was he going to spend the night in the same room with her without—

“So, how about you, Ramsey?”

Her voice brought him around. “Me? What about me?”

“Are you satisfied with your life the way it is?”She glanced at him, her question sincere, and all he was thinking about was jumping her bones. He regrouped, thought about her question. For years his job had been his life. When he was awarded the Medal of Valor, he’d thought it couldn’t get any better than that.

Then he’d met Kate, and she’d changed everything. She showed him there was more to life than a job. He’d made time for her—and had been sorry for it ever since. Because that’s when everything went to shit.

He wasn’t going to repeat that mistake. Ever.

He had to get back to where he was before his partner was killed and before he had a wife. Back to when he was a good cop, the kind who’d won a Medal of Valor for bravery and courage above and beyond. He carried it with him as a reminder of who he was. He had been that guy. And he wouldn’t stop carrying the small piece of metal until he didn’t need a reminder. Until he truly believed he was that guy, again.

And this trip, if he got what he wanted out of it, just might redeem him in some way.

“C’mon, I answered your questions,” Jillian said when he remained silent. “It’s only fair that you answer mine.”

She stopped at the door, turned, and with her back against it, looked up at him. “Unless you’re afraid to,” she said softly. Sexily.

He laughed. “Darlin’ the only thing I’m afraid of is the end of a gun. And I’m not even sure about that anymore. I don’t know what you think I might be afraid of.”

“I think you’re afraid to talk about yourself. I think you’re afraid to do that because you might reveal something.”

He leaned a hand against the side of the building right above her shoulder. “I’m not that deep, sweetheart. There’s nothing to reveal. My life consists of work, a friend or two and…sometimes family, but they’re so far away, I guess family doesn’t count as part of my normal life.”

“Yes, it does. Family always counts. No matter how far away they are.”

The woman was too honest. With his other hand, he reached for the door, but as he leaned in, he inhaled the scent of her hair…which sent a message directly to his dick…and he kissed her.

Just like that.

As his mouth met hers, she parted her lips. When she wrapped her arms around his back, his blood surged. He moved closer, wanting her warmth against him. Her arms moved up, and her fingers threaded through his hair at the back of his neck.

He’d never felt so aroused.

She knew it. She had to know it. But she didn’t push him away. He liked how well they fit together. He’d never been with a tall woman before and quickly discovered the advantages. Her lips were more accessible, her breasts met his chest in just the right place, her thighs fit nicely inside his, and her hips fit more than nicely against him.

He deepened the kiss, unable to stop from doing what came naturally. Small needy sounds came from her throat, ratcheting up his own need even more. He brought his hands to her backside and pulled her closer, grinding against her.

Suddenly she was moving, wildly waving one arm, which hit his shoulder. He heard a loud buzzing sound and then a loud thunk, then another, and she was waving both hands somewhere in the vicinity of their heads.

She pulled away and covered her head with her arms. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Bugs. They’re attacking us.”

He reached for the door and shoved her inside, swatting at the hard-shelled beetles that seemed to be everywhere. He slammed the door and locked it.

“Gross! That was absolutely gross,” Jillian spat out, shuddering with revulsion. She probably sounded just like Chloe, but she didn’t care.

“Not any worse than snakes or poison frogs.”

“Oooh, yes, they are. Much worse.”

She plopped down on her bed and crossed her legs, yoga-style, then shuddered again, her skin still crawling.

“You plan on doing a little meditating?”

She laughed. “I should. Maybe it would help.”

He stood near the other bed and combed a hand through his hair. “Is there something I can do?”

She paused, then did her best to make her expression and body language convey that, yes, there was definitely something he could do, and it had nothing to do with creepy insects.

She issued her invitation softly. “I’m sure you can.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing, as if he were debating the issue. He must know what she had in mind.

“No, I can’t,” he finally said, then turned, grabbed the top of the bedsheet and yanked it down. “You can sleep here if you want. I’ll take the lumpy bed.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and stunned at the rebuff, Jillian just sat there. She’d offered herself to him, and he’d rejected her. Mortified and angry, she clenched her hands. What the hell. He’d kissed her. And if she hadn’t stopped…

When he didn’t say anything more, her annoyance grew. How could he kiss her the way he had and then just stop? He’d been aroused. She didn’t have a whole lot of recent experience, but she couldn’t miss that one.

She remembered her friend Patti’s words. If you make the right moves, who knows what can happen? She also remembered that she didn’t know how to make moves. But she had to start somewhere.

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

His hair hung in disarray over his forehead, sun-streaked and sexy. “Because you noticed the bugs and I didn’t.”

He was certifiable, she was sure. “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t notice because I didn’t want to stop.”

Oh, my. She pulled in a deep breath.

It didn’t help; her heart beat triple time.

“Maybe I didn’t want to stop, either,” she said, suddenly unable to breathe—again.

“Yes, you did. And you should have. I’ve kissed lots of women, Jillian, in the jungle and otherwise.”

She looked away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She didn’t want to know his track record, she just wanted…what? To make out? Make love? Have a fling? Hell, a few seconds ago, she knew exactly what she wanted. Now she wasn’t sure.

“Well, good for you,” she said, unable to conceal the anger bubbling up inside.

“No, not good for me, and not good for you, either.” He started for the bathroom, stripping off his T-shirt as he went. At the door, he turned. “Do you want to use the john before I take a cold shower, or can you wait?”

Fire rose in her belly. She wanted to know what he meant.

“You might know some facts about me, Ramsey, but other than that, you have no idea what’s good for me or what isn’t.”

He leaned casually against the door frame to the bathroom, his tanned skin glistening with sweat; his eyes, a smoldering pewter, focused on her face. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. I’ve got your MO. Had it from the minute we met.”

He held up his fingers and ticked off each point. “Security. A home in the suburbs. Two point two children. PTA. Little League and family night in front of the television watching Disney movies. Most important, I know you don’t want a night of passion with a guy you’ll never see again when it’s over.”

He waited a second, then added, “Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

She wanted to move her lips but they didn’t seem to work. Maybe because he was right.

When she didn’t respond, he said, “That’s all I need to know.” At that, he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.

As Adam lathered up, he heard thunder outside and then the light tick of rain against the tile roof. He hoped to hell it didn’t rain into the next day, because if it did, they’d never get out of here. He doubted he could stand much more togetherness.

Mostly, he couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment and hurt in her eyes. It shouldn’t bother him so much. This was a job. Sometimes people got hurt. She was strong, she’d get over it.

But he wasn’t so sure about himself. His body told him one thing, his mind another.

A few minutes ago, she’d looked like a little kid who’d just disappointed her parents. A kid who needed a hug and some reassurance. But if it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have been feeling that way in the first place.

He’d had no business kissing her, no business letting her get under his skin. All he’d wanted was to make her understand that getting involved with him was just about the worst thing a woman like her could do.

She had to know that.

He had to make sure she knew it. He had to make sure she thought he was the biggest jerk around, because he was never going to become a nine-to-five guy and live in the suburbs anywhere. It just wasn’t going to happen.

He toweled off, wiped down the mirror, took out his razor and opened the door a crack to let out some of the humidity. The light was out, so he figured she must’ve gone to sleep already. Good. She’d need it.

Another rumble of thunder shook the small hut, then rain began pelting the roof like machine-gun fire. If that didn’t wake her, nothing would. When he finished shaving, he used his mini-flashlight to see and moved quietly to the side of his bed. He shone the beam quickly around the room to make sure things were okay, but when the light hit the door, he saw it wasn’t locked. Strange. He was sure he’d locked it.

He glanced at Jillian’s bed. Her mosquito netting wasn’t pulled down all the way, so he reached over and peered beneath it.

She wasn’t there!

He yanked the sheet aside. Damn. She wouldn’t have gone outside alone, would she? Not in the dark, not with all those bugs she hated. But what was the alternative? Another burglar? A kidnapper? Her husband come to get her?

No! Think, man. She probably couldn’t wait to use the bathroom and went back to the house—it was only twenty yards away. That had to be it. He hoped to hell that was it.

He flipped on the light, shoved his legs into his jeans, grabbed his gun and shot out the door into the driving rain.

Shirtless, shoeless, Adam stormed toward the house using his small flashlight to see the path and avoid any reptiles. As he got closer, he saw a light from a room in the back of the house and hoped that’s where she’d gone.

She had no business leaving like that. It was foolish. Dangerous. He’d warned her not to go off by herself, dammit! Two American women had been robbed and killed not far from here a couple of years ago. His anger kicked up a notch with each long stride.

Reaching the front door of the house, he bounded up the steps and yanked open the screen door. The living room was dark, but he heard voices coming from somewhere in the back. His heart pounded.

Laughter. Her laughter. He’d recognize it anywhere. What the devil was going on? He skulked down a narrow hall, passing two closed doors on the way. Bedrooms, probably. At the end was another door, slightly ajar with low light coming from inside. The voices were quieter now and he couldn’t imagine who she was talking with, since everyone else had turned in before them.

Standing outside the door, he held his breath and listened. But the voices had fallen to whispers. He positioned himself near the opening by the hinges and peered inside. A large shadow—a man in a T-shirt.. Movement. A woman’s shadow. Shadows blending together. A moan.

Her moan—softly in her throat, just like when he’d kissed her. Or maybe she was hurt? Pure white rage burned in his chest, and in that split second, he leveled his gun and kicked the door, sending it crashing in splinters against the wall on the other side.

“Get your hands off her, you bastard!”

CHAPTER TWENTY

TWO HEADS POPPED UP. Jillian’s and Father Martinez’s.

“Adam?” Jillian’s face went chalk white at the sight of his gun.

Father Martinez didn’t flinch.

Lowering the gun, Adam took inventory, his gaze darted. “What the hell is going on? I thought someone was…” Seeing them look at him like he was the crazy one, he shook his head. “What are you doing, Jillian?”

“I needed a woman’s help,” the priest said. “I didn’t want to wake my mother or get her involved.” He shrugged, looked at the door and grinned “But I think she may be awake now.”

“Help?” Adam took a step toward them, tucking his gun in the back of his jeans.

“Look,” Jillian said as she stood up and turned to face him. A baby was cradled in her arms. “Isn’t she sweet?” Jillian made another cooing noise at the dark-haired infant, a sound that came from the back of her throat. That’s what he’d heard and took to be…

He scanned the room, searching for further explanation, any explanation.

“When I saw the light still on in the guest house, I thought maybe Jillian could help,” Father Martinez said. “I went over and got her. Sorry we worried you.”

“I was worried,” Adam said through his teeth. “I thought something had happened.” Looking at Father Martinez, he said, “We encountered a burglar earlier on the trip and then some…” he sputtered, feeling stupid. But looking at the man, his long hair pulled back in a pony tail and his perfectly cut muscles visible through his tight T-shirt, and then Jillian, her eyes filled with admiration for the priest, a twinge of envy shot through him. Again.

He turned to Jillian, his irritation waning, but only slightly. “It would’ve helped if you’d left a note.”

Jillian arched an eyebrow, as if to say she wasn’t obligated to tell him anything. Especially under the circumstances.

“So, what’s with the kid?” Adam turned again to Father Martinez.

“Black-market baby smuggling,” the priest said. “From here to the U.S. People will pay any amount of money for a baby. Unfortunately some of them are kidnapped from their parents or taken by unscrupulous doctors or midwives from young unmarried girls. Others deliberately get pregnant and sell their own children for profit.”

Adam rubbed a hand against his chin. “And what’s your involvement?”

“Inadvertent. I heard about it from one of the church members—a young girl was coerced by her doctor to give up her baby because she couldn’t pay him. Fortunately she came to me right away. I enlisted some local help who caught the smugglers before they left the country with the baby. And—” He waved a hand at Jillian, who’d just finished giving the infant a bottle. “And my helpers brought the child here tonight for safekeeping. The mother has been notified and should be here early in the morning.”

Jillian set the bottle down and crossed to Adam. “She’s adorable. Here, hold her. You’ll see.”

She shoved the kid into his arms. He took the baby and cradled her as he had his nieces and nephews. Having done more than his share of baby-sitting for his older sisters’ kids when he was a teenager, he was an old hand at this. A few seconds later the baby sighed and closed her eyes.

Jillian looked at him with surprise. “Goodness, who would’ve known?”

“You’re very good at that,” Father Martinez said. “It’s an expertise I don’t seem to have.” He smiled at Adam, but it was more of a smirk. So was the smile on Jillian’s face.

Adam rocked the baby a little more, and when he was certain she was fast asleep, he put her in the small basket they were using as a cradle.

“I think I can handle it from here,” Father Martinez said as he placed one hand on Jillian’s shoulder and one on Adam’s. He walked them toward the hallway to go out. “I appreciate your help, Jillian. Yours, too, Adam.”

“My pleasure, Father.” Jillian glanced at the broken door.

Adam said, “Sorry about that. I’ll pay for a new one.”

The priest nodded and winked. “They needed a new door, anyway.”

Adam and Jillian walked the rest of the way back to the cottage in silence. The storm had abated to a fine mist, and Adam hoped it would stop altogether or they’d have trouble getting the car fixed. He tried to think of other things he needed to do, but he was still upset about Jillian’s leaving like that.

He wanted to talk to her, warn her about being cautious, not going off by herself, not scaring the crap out of him, but decided it could wait till tomorrow. What they needed now was a good night’s sleep.

Three hours later he was still trying to get that sleep. Finally he raised himself up on one elbow. For safety he’d left the outside light on and now, he was able to see Jillian through the gauzy netting. He was still looking at her when thunder shook the roof.

Jillian bolted upright. “What was that?” she said sleepily.

“Thunder.”

She peered through the netting at him. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“It woke me, too. But it’s far away now and the rain has stopped.”

Her legs were bare, the T-shirt hitched up across her hip. Yanking it down, she flopped back against her pillow. “I like the smell of fresh rain. Maybe it’ll cool the air for tomorrow.”

He gave a snort. “It’ll be more like a sauna. Go back to sleep.” He had to do the same. Because if he cut himself any slack whatsoever, he’d be in that bed with her, and it didn’t matter if the temperature was one hundred and twenty.

Jillian tried to fall asleep again, but soon she heard soft music in the background, coming from the direction of the main house, an old song George had played earlier. She wondered if Adam was still awake, heard the music, too.

Adam.

Her awareness of the man lying in the bed across from her was like needles pricking her skin. It had taken her forever to get to sleep the first time, only to awaken in the middle of a dream about him. Asleep or awake, she couldn’t stop thinking about making love with him.

As she listened to the music, the heat inside her grew more intense by the second. She rolled over and jabbed at the pillow. One way or another tomorrow would be a turning point. If they didn’t find the man they were looking for, they were going home, Adam had said.

She couldn’t argue the point.

The light outside the door cast a low glow through the window, and lying on her back, she could almost see Ramsey’s chest rise and fall, could hear each and every breath as if he had a microphone at his lips.

She had an urge to reach out and trace her fingers along the finely sculpted muscles, run her hands down his sides and over his hips. She wanted to leap out of bed and place her lips on his and give in to the cravings his earlier kisses had triggered.

Thinking of them now, she felt a deep ache of desire build between her legs. She hugged her arms close to her chest, willing herself to think about something else. She focused her gaze on the silver hook above her that held up the netting, studied how the white gauzy cloth swirled around the hook like a rosebud and then blossomed out, forming a waterfall of sheer cloth around her.

“Are you asleep?” Ramsey’s low voice floated to her like part of a dream.

“No,” she whispered.

“The music keeping you awake?”

“No, I like it.” She closed her eyes.

“Yeah.” He let out a long breath. “It’s from Picnic, and old mov—”

“I know. William Holden and Kim Novak. George must like that era.”

“Me, too. You hungry?”

Oh, yes. She waited a second before answering. “More thirsty than anything.”

She heard the rustle of fabric, the slap of footsteps padding across the old stone floor, more rustling. “Ah, what a great selection. Would you like water or water?”

She smiled. “Water, please.”

More noise, the sound of air releasing, the dull thud of the cooler lid. Then silence. She waited, listening. Then he was standing next to her and lifting up the netting. Handing her the bottle of water, he sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

She pulled herself to a sitting position.

“Cheers.” He touched the tip of his bottle to hers.

“Cheers,” she repeated, then watched the muscles in his throat work as he gulped the water down.

Following suit, she sipped slowly, aware that the condensation on the water bottle trickled down her chin and neck as she did. The moisture against her skin helped combat the heat, so she didn’t bother wiping it off.

She wished he’d act like the jerk he’d been a few hours ago. But he wasn’t a jerk. She knew that. He was a purposeful man with a job to do. Purposeful and intense. Purposeful and sexy.

“You were good with that baby tonight,” she said.

“I’ve had practice.”

She picked at the wet label on the bottle. “I bet it was fun to grow up that way.”

“What way is that?”

“With sisters and brothers. A large family. Parents who keep tabs on you, parents who care what you do.”

“Well, just because we were a large family doesn’t mean everything was like a TV sitcom.”

“Your parents didn’t care about you?”

“I didn’t say that,” he answered. “Yeah, they cared. Too much, maybe. They devoted their lives to their family, and when we all left, they were a little lost. So don’t kid yourself, all families have problems. I don’t think there’s such a thing as a normal family, anymore.”

“Is that why you’re so set against marriage?”

He lifted the bottle to his lips for another swig.

“Partly. But mostly because I found out just how wrong it was for me. It’s a great feeling to finally have control over my life.”

“Can’t say I blame you. I guess I feel a bit like that myself, though I would’ve liked it to be different when I was growing up.”

He nodded as if he understood.

“I hated the way my mother and I lived and couldn’t wait till I was old enough to be on my own,” she went on. “I thought I’d be on my own after she died, but that’s when Social Services stepped in, located my dad and sent me to live with him. He was a complete stranger. Anyway, I guess he thought having me live with him was better than paying support to a foster parent to house me.”

She took another sip. “I told you all that before, didn’t I?”

“Some of it. You told me you’d run away.”

“Yeah.” She bit her bottom lip. “The funny part about that was, even though I wanted to be on my own, I wanted desperately for him to want me to stay.”

Again he nodded in apparent understanding.

“Which doesn’t mean I don’t like my independence,” she said. “I’m so used to it now, I don’t know how I’d fare if I had to give up even a little of it.”

He smiled. “I don’t know why you’d have to.”

She returned the smile. “I did when I was married. But I didn’t realize it until right…recently.”

He reached out and tipped up her chin. “You turned out all right, though. None the worse for wear,” he said softly. With his fingertips, he traced a line down her cheek and across her chin, then lightly over her lower lip.

The effect was hypnotic. She wanted him to kiss her again. He must have read her mind, because the instant she thought it, his mouth was over hers and tasting of fresh, cool water, touching ever so lightly, sensually.

She’d never imagined kissing could be so erotic. And if she’d ever had a reason for resisting, she couldn’t imagine what it was. How could she not do something that felt so good?

It was lust, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t love—or was it? She wasn’t sure right now if she knew the difference. All she knew was that she felt it ocean deep within her, and it was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

Did he feel it, too? If his kiss was any indication, he did. She hoped he did. Even if he couldn’t admit it.

She pressed herself to him, her fingers exploring the hard muscled ridges on his back, then moving around to his chest and through the dusting of light brown hair. Desire spiraled through her. She felt compelled to touch him everywhere, and as she did, his breathing became rapid, and his heart pounded against her fingertips as if it were her own.

Then he was kissing her chin, her jaw, her neck, lingering at the soft hollow at the base of her throat.

She tipped her head back. A low moan escaped from somewhere deep inside her as he kissed her breasts through the soft cotton of her shirt.

He blew moist, hot air through the fabric, and before she knew it, he’d lifted her shirt to kiss her stomach. His mouth and his hands were like fire, igniting her everywhere they touched—neck, arms, ankles, legs, thighs—until her whole body was aflame with desire.

When he found her mouth again and kissed her longer, harder, deeper than before, she knew his need was as intense as her own.

“Jillian,” he murmured, “are you okay with this?”

Unable even to think beyond the need that consumed her, Jillian groaned, “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Even though he’d asked, Adam wasn’t sure he could have stopped. The instant she’d kissed him back something wild and reckless had been unleashed in him. Still, he’d had to ask. She was right; he knew a lot about her, but he really didn’t know her at all. Not what was truly in her mind and heart. He wanted her with every fiber of his being, but he didn’t want her to regret this, didn’t want her to feel he’d forced her or taken advantage.