Playing with Fire (21 page)

“Good. Because you never answered my
question.”

“Question?” She raised her head from his
shoulder. “I don’t remember you asking me a question.”

A delightful shiver of arousal wiggled
through her body as his fingers slid over her forearm. The shiver
turned to a full force tremble when his lips pressed butterfly
kisses across her temple, down her cheek, and finally in the hollow
of her neck.

His hands flattened open both sides of her
unbuttoned shirt and her thighs tightened. She thrust her breasts
upward, silently asking for his touch. “What do you want to ask me,
Shane?”

“Later,” he murmured.

He moved one hand to cup her left breast, his
fingertips working the nipple into a stiff peak. She gasped and
thrust again.

The doorbell rang.

“Hell.” Shane pulled the sides of her shirt
together and then moved toward the front door. “I’ll get rid of
whoever this is.”

Jake rushed through the door before Shane had
a chance to say anything.

“Come on in, Jake.” He shut the door and
followed Jake to the living room.

“Think I will.” Jake glanced at Liberty. “You
look better.”

“I feel better, thanks. I’m just really
tired.”

“I won’t stay long.”

Shane sat down and tucked her into the hollow
of his shoulder. “Well?”

Jake took a seat in the recliner next to the
couch. “We’ve got pictures, plans, receipts for large quantities of
acetone, and a suicide note that confirms everything. You were
right, Liberty, he burnt his wife to death before she went over the
cliff. He blamed you because she left him and his plan was to frame
you and destroy your reputation. When we got involved, he got
impatient. Rather than risk being caught, he decided to kill you
and himself in the process.”

“Bastard,” Shane mumbled, pulling her close.
“Who would’ve ever thought psychiatry was so damn dangerous?”

Liberty squeezed his forearm in an attempt to
calm his anger. “No one could’ve known.”

“What about Zach?” he asked Jake.

“Wrong place, wrong time.” Jake sighed. “Sick
sonuvabitch set the house on fire just to watch it burn.”

“At least now there’s closure for all of us.”
She stroked Shane’s arm.

Jake ran a hand down the side of his face.
“Now Zach can rest in peace.”

Shane raised an eyebrow when Jake’s pager
squealed. “Duty calls, Ramsey.”

Jake stood and Shane followed him to the
front door. “Do you two need anything else before I leave?”

“No.”

Jake grinned as the doorknob nudged his
stomach. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Shane slid the deadbolt, returned to the
sofa, and bent down on his knees.

Liberty frowned. “Shane?”

“Let me do this right before the phone rings
or someone else drops by.”

When he took her hands in his, her heart
pounded so loudly she was sure he could count each beat.

“I love you, Liberty. You’ve healed my soul
and my heart. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.
Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled from her eyes as she placed her
forehead against his. “I love you too. Yes, I’d be honored to be
your wife.”

He exhaled a long breath. “I think I figured
out why my life was spared.”

She sat silent and waited for him to say the
words he needed to heal.

“To love you, Liberty.”

Sonuvabitch
.

Jake threw his cell phone into the passenger
seat while his stomach rolled. Although the Department planned this
bust for weeks, he felt more than a little peeved that it had gone
down without him. He slapped a red light on the dashboard and hit
the siren as he smashed the accelerator and peeled out of Shane’s
driveway.

“Dispatch, I’m en route,” he growled into the
radio.

He sped across town and finally fish-tailed
his car against the front curb of Primrose’s elite gentlemen’s
club. The
Velvet Glove
. Damn. There would be hell to pay if
she were anywhere near this place.

He slammed the car door shut and headed
inside, determined to wring someone’s neck. Someone who had better
sense than to allow him to find her.

“Detective Ramsey —”

Jake silenced a uniform with one hand and a
just-try-me
stare and then entered the club. His gaze swept
the darkened interior, now filled with empty tables littered with
glasses of half-finished booze. Interrupted by the bust, the
catwalk glittered in the spotlight, almost taunting him with the
sultry moves of the one and only woman he cared to watch grace the
stage. He growled deep in his throat. She fucking well better not
be here.

Once his vision adjusted to the dim
atmosphere, his moved his gaze around the room, pausing on the
lineup of dancers pressed against one wall, all still in costume
and very obviously caught off guard by the evening’s interruption.
Yet remarkably, each woman still posed ready and willing to
continue the show. His blood boiled as he scrutinized each woman,
one by one, until he zeroed in on the one individual he hoped to
hell he would not see.

Anger propelled him across the room until he
towered his victim. A fiery-haired, curvy sex kitten, barely five
feet tall.

“Bri, what the hell are you doing here?”

Her eyes glowed like a feral cat’s in the
semi-dark room while they shot him a perfect
back-off
warning. “Not what you think.”

“Oh yeah?” Her chin bumped his biceps as he
grasped her elbow and yanked her out of the lineup and into a
secluded corner. “Tell me what I think.”

“Jake, please.” He moved his fingers to
circle her wrist and her pulse leapt beneath his touch. “I can
explain.”

His heart rolled over in his chest. She
promised
, damn it, and now her obvious intent to break it
succeeded in royally pissing him off. “Explain what exactly,
Bri?”

“Why you found me.”

He released her and lifted his own wrist to
glance at his watch. “Thirty seconds.” He lifted his gaze to meet
hers and threw the gauntlet. “And remember, no matter what you say,
I’m hauling your pretty little ass out of here in handcuffs.”

Other books by Mia Dymond:

Leather, Lace and Rock-Roll

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Freaky By Nature

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Brett Steele, PI didn’t realize there was a
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https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/107217

Claire Steele has dodged shadows her whole
life and uses psychic talent to chase evil in the recesses of her
mind. Lt. “Shadow” Windsor walks friendship’s fine line, patiently
waiting for Claire to accept his love. Until sinister forces
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must combine both talent and skill to survive.

Never Cry Uncle

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Often a dead-end job is so ... dead. When
Allison and Lucy find out their boss pocketed bonus money,
blackmail seems the perfect revenge. Until the plan backfires and
they become prime suspects. Out of desperation, Allison hires Luke
Owens, PI, who takes the case only to be distracted by her sass. In
a zany twist of events, the couple must risk their hearts and lives
to catch the real killer.

***

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