Task Force Bride (9 page)

“I don’t know if I would recognize his handwriting anymore. It was pretty illegible, like this address. But we don’t even know if the bugs were from him, do we? He denied sending them.”

“Most criminals would.” When she glanced up, Pike shrugged an apology. “I did a little research after he threatened you the other night. I know he spent time in Jeff City. Did he ever hurt you?”

Not exactly.
Hope tucked her chin to her chest and focused her attention on the envelope again. Hank Lockhart might never have laid a hand on her, but then, he’d never needed to. There were other, far more cruel ways to get an already meek child to do what a man wanted.

“Hope?”

She ignored the curious prompt and opened the package, crinkling up her nose at the rotten odor that suddenly filled the air. “I know that smell.” She recognized it from one of the nasty jobs she’d had as a little girl, when her father had been too drunk to clean their tiny kitchen, and what food they’d had in the house had been too precious to share. As much as she wanted to throw the envelope away, Hope knew she had to look inside. But she prayed she was wrong. She wasn’t. “Oh, my God.”

“Son of a...”

Brown and furry and stiff as a board.

Hope gasped and stuffed the envelope with the dead mouse into the trash bag and scooted across the kitchen. She dropped the knife into the sink and pumped the soap to wash her hands, even though she hadn’t actually touched the frozen-eyed critter.

“Hope?” Pike wrapped up the offending present and set it out of sight. “Does that or the bugs mean anything to you?”

“Mean? It means there’s some sicko out there having way too much fun at my expense.” She washed the knife as well, then dropped it into the dishwasher and rinsed out the entire sink, working frenetically to cleanse the frightening image from her memory.

“I’m talking about those specific gifts. Do they have any significance to you? Any hidden message?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hope.” Pike’s hands closed over her shoulders. “You need to calm—”

“No, I don’t!” She spun in his hands and shoved him away. The dog jumped to his feet in the living room and barked a warning. Hope screamed and backed against the sink, hugging her arms to her chest and staring straight down at Pike’s bare toes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’ll be quiet.”

“Hans. Box!”

Hope flinched at Pike’s sharp command, but the dog trotted obediently to his crate and curled up inside. Her gaze made it up to the belly button above the snap of Pike’s jeans. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Don’t apologize for having a temper. I’d be pissed off, too, if someone was sending me those crude gifts and spying on me.” After closing Hans in his kennel, Pike reached for her, but grumbled something beneath his breath and pointed to the windows, instead. “Be afraid of that guy out there. Not me.”

“I am.”

“Which?” He braced his hands at the waist of those softly worn jeans. “You’re afraid of him or me?”

Maybe she was just afraid, period. Shaking her head, Hope circled around the table to avoid him, needing time to regroup, rethink, maybe just start this whole day over again. “I’m going to shower and get dressed now. There’s cereal, milk and fruit for breakfast. Coffee’s made.”

But Pike blocked her path when she tried to slide past him, and she had to curl her toes into the cool wood planks beneath them inside her slippers to keep from bumping into him again. “Hope, I don’t need you to be quiet or to act like you don’t think or feel like anyone else. I need you to talk to me. If we can’t learn to communicate with each other, then I’m not going to be able to protect you. And we have to be able to be in the same room together without you bolting, or we’re never going to convince anyone we’re a couple.”

“I know. That’s why you need to find someone else to help you.”

“There
is
no one else.” He scrubbed his palm over his beard stubble, then leaned in, pleading or venting, demanding something she wasn’t sure she could give. “This mission has already started. Someone is already watching you—watching us. Now, I know you’re a society lady and I’m working-class good ol’ boy, but we have to make this happen. We have to make
us
work or our perp will see right through what we’re trying to do, and he’ll go even deeper into hiding. How many more women will he have to hurt before we get a chance like this again?”

Frowning, she tilted her gaze up to his. “Society lady?”

Those deep blue eyes were dead serious. They could lose the Rose Red Rapist if she couldn’t move past her fears and phobias and become a part of the team Pike Taylor needed her to be. Embarrassment faded. Doubt lingered. Yet the determination that had made her say yes to this plan in the first place was still there, beating steadily through her veins. Suddenly she didn’t see the half-dressed man who made her so nervous, but the comrade-in-arms whom she was letting down—and the mission they couldn’t afford to fail.

“Pike, I’m not a society lady. Maybe I work with a lot of them, but I grew up in the backwoods of the Ozarks. I worked my way through college. I borrowed money from Brian Elliott to buy this building and open my shop, and I’m still paying him back. I’m not... I don’t...” Hope shoved her fingers through her hair and gathered it out of the way down her back. “If I concentrate, I can control the panic. I’ll learn how to kiss you and have meaningful conversations and pretend I’m not afraid of Hans. Don’t give up on me yet. Please. I can do this.”

“Give up on you? Why would I...? Oh, Hope.” Pike brushed aside a tendril that had escaped from her grasp and tucked it behind her ear. “Have you ever been with a man?”

All the blood seemed to rush straight to the cheek and ear he’d touched. She turned back into the kitchen, confessing the awkward truth. “Pike, I’ve never even been in a serious relationship.” She stared at the turquoise glass tiles of the backsplash before reaching for a bowl of fruit and a clean paring knife. She pulled down two cereal bowls and sliced up a peach into them, needing to keep her hands busy while she talked. “I have friends who are men. And I’ve dated a few times—mostly business acquaintances, a couple of times in college. But if I ever felt anything more, it wasn’t mutual. Or they just wanted... And no, I’ve never done that, either.” When the peach was done, she peeled a banana and kept working. “I don’t turn heads. I don’t get much chance to practice. All I do is freak out when a dog comes into the room or a man tries to touch me. KCPD may have made a mistake in asking for my help.”

He leaned his hip against the counter beside her, glancing around the remodeled loft. “I don’t think so. You came from the hills of nowhere and ended up here? You’re obviously a smart woman who knows how to work hard and succeed. You’re very observant of what goes on around you.” He plucked a peach from the nearest bowl and took a bite. “You don’t need to say a lot of words for me to know you care about people. You’re a champion of this neighborhood. You stood up to your dad the other night, so I know there’s strength in you.”

She stopped slicing fruit just to listen to his quiet, deep-pitched voice. His words were soothing, supportive, tapping into some of that strength inside her and making her believe, just a little bit, what he was saying. When he reached over to touch her hair again, she tilted her chin up to see his eyes watching the curls sifting through his fingers. “If you left your hair down natural like this, men would notice you. Heck, if you didn’t work so hard to hide all those curves, you’d be beatin’ us off with a stick.”

Hope chuckled at that improbability and he smiled in return.

“You’ll never convince me you’re anything but a lady. I just need to teach you a thing or two about how we should interact, so I don’t startle you or make you too uncomfortable. It won’t be hard. Trust me, I’m not that complicated.”

She sighed with regret. “But I think I am.”

His teasing smile never wavered as he straightened away from the counter. “You’ve already mastered step one. You called me Pike without even thinking about it. And I think we’re having a meaningful conversation right now.” He took her hand, setting the knife down on the counter and turning her to face him. Her eyes widened as he placed her hand against that warm, beautiful—bare—skin again and held it there. “Let’s work on step two.”

He gently pinched her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her face up as he dipped his head. “Don’t hold your breath,” he whispered, seeing she was doing just that. “Relax.” Impossible. Not if he was going to kiss her again. He stroked the pad of his thumb over the seam of her lips. “Shh. Easy.”

Her lips parted on a breathy exhale and he closed the distance between them, settling his mouth over hers in a gentle kiss.

Hope stilled despite the warmth of mingling breaths and the unfamiliar pressure of his mouth pushing, withdrawing, tugging her bottom lip between his. She concentrated simply on breathing, in and out through her nose. But it was difficult to focus and her breath stuttered. Pike traced his tongue around the rim of her lips, eliciting a sigh, waking nerve endings she didn’t know were there. She attuned her senses to the supple firmness of his lips and the soft abrasion of his beard stubble rubbing against her softer skin. He generated such heat wherever he touched her, the curious friction between them stoking something deeper inside, something even warmer than the brand of her fingers splayed over the drumbeat of his heart.

“Like I said—I won’t break,” he coaxed, kissing the lower curve of her mouth, then the bow on top. “You try,” he whispered against her, his warm proximity making her feel connected even when their lips were no longer touching. “I’ll go with the flow of whatever you’re comfortable with. You’re in control.”

With a subtle nod, Hope pushed her mouth against Pike’s again. She dug her fingers into his chest and circled her left hand up behind his neck, anchoring herself as she pulled up to compensate for his greater height. Her fingertips discovered the crisp line where his short hair met the nape of his neck. She ran her tongue along his bottom lip as he had done with her. His mouth opened with a husky moan from his throat that skittered along her skin and made her nipples tighten with an answering anticipation. Hope shyly touched the tip of her tongue to his and quickly drew back at the unfamiliar contact with its soft, raspy warmth, only to have his tongue chase hers and invite her to take another sample.

Okay, so this guy was a really, really good teacher. This time she cautiously took her time, sliding her tongue against his, tasting the sweet peach he’d eaten and something more, something that made her whimper and want to move closer—something so potent that it made her heart race and her thoughts go fuzzy.

When she recognized the raw desire coursing through her, Hope pulled back, dropping to her heels and releasing her clinging fingers before she embarrassed herself by forgetting the reason for that kiss. “How did I do?”

“Honey, you’re a natural.” His hands had worked their way into her hair, and were massaging her scalp. “Knew you were smart. Didn’t expect you to catch on quite that fast.” His chest heaved in and out in a deep rhythm that mimicked her own and fogged up her glasses. She tilted her eyes up to his over the rims and was surprised at how close he seemed, how close he felt deeper inside her. But his eyes were sparkling with humor, not questions. “Feeling any urge to run away?”

Hope shook her head.

“Good.” He grinned before taking a deep breath and pulling back. “I think we might have to practice that lesson again.”

For a split second, Hope wondered where she’d gone wrong with that kiss. But he was still grinning while he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number. “You’re flirting, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Pike winked before turning away and reporting the information about the dead mouse on her doorstep to Detective Montgomery.

Hope couldn’t seem to erase the silly smile from her own expression as she finished prepping breakfast. The morning might have had a horribly embarrassing and disturbing start, but her day had improved dramatically. Not only was she in the same confined space with a trained German shepherd, but she was entertaining a distractingly shirtless man in her apartment—and not freaking out about either one.

Hope was setting two mugs of coffee on the table when the intercom beside the door buzzed, announcing she had a visitor outside. Glancing at the clock on the stove, she frowned. “Who could that be? The shop doesn’t open for another hour. My first scheduled appointment isn’t until ten.”

Still on the phone with Detective Montgomery, and his hand back on the gun tucked into his jeans, Pike crossed to the window and peeked out. “There’s a news van parked outside.”

“Already? I thought I’d have some time to prepare...” for the onslaught of attention Dr. Kilpatrick had said she should expect once her name was leaked to the press as a possible connection to the task force investigation. “What am I supposed to say?”

When she approached to see for herself, Pike put out his arm, warning her to stay out of sight behind him.

“Yes, sir. Understood.” The intercom buzzed again, making her think of a timer that had just run out. There was no backing out of this now. Hope looked up to Pike for guidance. He tucked his phone into his pocket and nodded to the intercom. “Go ahead and answer it. Get a name and find out what they want.”

Aware that Pike was following right behind her, Hope cleared her throat, then pushed the call button. “Yes?”

“Miss Lockhart? Hope Lockhart?” A smoothly modulated woman’s voice answered.

“Who’s this?”

“Vanessa Owen. Channel Ten News. I’ve been to your shop before, remember? Right after Bailey Austin was assaulted?”

“I remember you, Ms. Owen.” The dark-haired beauty had practically become a fixture in the neighborhood this past year. The female reporter’s tenacious coverage of the Rose Red Rapist attacks and subsequent investigation had made her a staple on the evening news in Kansas City, and had even garnered her some national appearances for her coverage of the crimes. “It’s awfully early. The shop isn’t open yet.”