Vigilante Mine (19 page)

"You mean if my baby brother wasn't head of HR?"

Her smile evened out and she toyed with her salad fork. "Assuming you didn't own the place, yeah. You lose your job. What then?"

"I'd take it back." Realization darted through his veins and he pinned her with his most solemn look. "That wasn't advice."

"Being a cop is the only thing I know how to do."

"I doubt that. But you are damned good at it." Ryan hid a frown at the sudden droop of her shoulders. Playful overtures wouldn't be enough to bridge the distance she'd put between them. Not today. He leaned forward. "Amanda, I was there yesterday. I saw you take that kid down for running, heard everyone condemn him on the spot but you. You're reasonable, fast. Talented. The city's on the edge of panic and our police force needs all the capable hands it can get right now. If you ask me, your lieutenant's made an incredible mistake. The minute he comes to his senses, he'll beg you to return."

"I didn't ask you." Blue captured his gaze, sparking with challenge. Then her eyes refocused, lingering on a droplet of condensation sliding down the side of her drink. She wrapped her fingers around the water glass. "But I appreciate the vote."

"You wanted honesty. Besides, a woman with your skill
—
"

She waved him off. "Don't oversell it, Romeo."

Ryan found himself chuckling. If she only knew. "Not everything I say is a line."

"There is a God." Amanda smiled then gulped her water.

His answering laugh melted in his throat when she finished with a lick of her lips. He'd tried not to focus on them, but his eyes were helpless now. Pink, glossy, perfect. The need to claim them, a taste after so long, clung to him like a demon.

Never should have looked.
His willpower shredded, Ryan eyed the fresh pitcher the waiter slid onto the table. If he dumped it straight into his lap . . . 

"Ryan?" Stark curiosity. He lifted an eyebrow but she shook her head. "No, forget it. I start asking questions and I won't stop."

For you, I'd answer anything.
The silent admission surprised him, burrowing into his chest, an ache borne as much from guilt as desire. If the words escaped, she'd think it another line. So he waited. And prayed he didn't have to stand up anytime soon.

"Why did I think lunch with you would help me breathe?" she whispered. A curious bloom of pink danced up her cheekbones.

His detective
—
blushing? More than ever, he wanted to touch her, to take her in his arms and protect her from the world's dangers. A laugh, really. The only danger Amanda needed protection from
—
the only person she had ever needed protection from
—
was Ryan. Guilt rose to throb in his chest even as his gaze traced her lips.

"You're staring." Her voice came out with a hoarse edge.

Ryan slid his palm over the back of her hand.

She didn't pull away. A boon, since he could no longer move, talk, or think. Her eyes blazed into his, desire unhidden.

He'd been wrong.

Redemption needed distance.

After confirming she now thrived
—
despite his power nearly costing her life
—
he should have walked. Now it was too late. The city itself seemed determined to thrust them together. She'd become entwined with Klepto in a single evening, and unmasked, sitting with his knees an inch from hers sharing this casual meal he had found a connection he didn't want to end.

"Amanda, I want to kiss you."

Her eyes burned hotter still. Yes. She wanted the same thing. Ryan squeezed her hand under his and her fingers jerked. The blue fire went wide and Amanda's hands zipped off the table onto her lap, leaving him reaching, his palm bereft of her heat.

Ryan pulled his arm back slowly. "That's a no."

"We're in the middle of a restaurant." She dropped her gaze to her plate. "I can't."

"So . . . not no? Just . . . "

"Turns out, I don't want to share a kiss with the entire city. When I kiss you, I
—
" She caught herself, her lips still parted around the next word. Her eyes locked on to his.

"'When' sounds promising." Ryan grinned, wide and unstoppable. "Please, continue."

Instead of replying, she reached for the pitcher.

He intercepted and entwined their fingers. "What do you want, Amanda?"

"More than one night." Her lips barely moved, a murmur of words never intended for his ears.

How did he tell her she had it right? That he suspected one night would never be enough? Lightly squeezing her hand tipped the face of his watch toward the light. He glimpsed the time and cursed inside his head. Unfortunately, Amanda caught his hesitation.

"You need to go." She pulled her hand free.

He sighed. "News 9 has me booked with more exclusives until four."

"What about? Yesterday?" Her tone was casual, but she scooted away from the table and tossed her white linen napkin next to her barely-touched meal.

"I keep my word." Ryan consciously eased his teeth apart.

"So does Dale." She shimmied into her coat, a softer expression on her face. "You're growing on me. I'd hate to see you on his bad side."

Not suspicion. A warning? Concern? And she'd wanted him to kiss her.
Progress.
Nodding to the waiter to add the bill to his account, Ryan stood to escort Amanda out.

"I'll be announcing the benefit dinner," he said. "Gala, really. Red carpet. My assistant kind of ran away with the idea. Lilah . . . you spoke to her on the phone this morning."

Her face scrunched like she'd bitten into a fresh lemon. "The morning person."

He grinned. "A shame, isn't it? I think she comes by the ailment naturally." To his surprise, her face lit with a delightful smile and she took the arm he offered.

When they returned to the garage level, she spotted the freshly-waxed pickup truck he'd taken to maneuver the snow. "Just how many shiny vehicles do you own?"

"Should I tell the chauffeur to skip the sedan next time?" There was an answering gleam in her eyes as she stared at his ride, longing mixed with a guarded sort of hope, and impulse had him unlocking the passenger side door. "Hop in. I'll drive you home."

"You'll be late for your interview." She shook her head, but like the day before she seemed unable to resist the lure of a powerful engine and leather seats. "Could you drop me somewhere on your way?"

Amanda was smiling as she let him help her up into the cab of his Ford F-150. He had to adjust his suit pants at the intense, guilty pleasure etched across her face and the way her lean fingers stroked the interior. "When," she'd said, and Ryan had made his choice. There were only so many times a man could face temptation and walk away unscathed. The next time the universe gave him an opportunity to kiss this woman, he sure as hell would grab it with both hands.

Ryan swept a
look down her front that sent heat bubbling up from her toes. Then he spotted her destination, and confusion overtook his features. "You want me to leave you at a bar?"

"I saw the cruiser out front on my ride to the bistro," she said. "It's the middle of the day. Whoever's in there, drinking already, probably needs an ear."

He raised a critical eyebrow. "Your lieutenant's inside."

Amanda knew of three officers who'd have driven the car on the curb, none of whom were Dale. Still, his certainty rattled her intuition.

"That's not his cruiser." She hopped out of the truck and turned to face him. "Cops were murdered. I've lost a partner, I know what it's like. Definitely drinking before noon territory."

"Tangling with him in public might not be wise."

Afternoon sunlight brought out flecks of gold in the deep brown of his eyes, glittering with heat and erotic promises his schedule wasn't clear enough to deliver. If she climbed back into the truck, that damned "when" blazing between them would be a "now", and they'd more than lock lips. She wasn't about to land on the news for making him late for his interview.

"I'll take that under advisement, but I'm telling you, he's not here." She forced herself to take a step backward.

His lips curved like he sensed the depth of her craving for him. Exquisite temptation. "Do you have a dress for the benefit dinner, Amanda?"

Her heartbeat fumbled, then raced ahead. "I wasn't aware I was on the invitee list."

"I'd like you to be my 'plus one'." He waited for her stunned nod, then added, "Please wear something blue."

Reeling both from his invitation and from her readiness to accept it, she shoved the door closed. Amanda watched until his taillights were out of sight. Even her lungs weren't sure what to do. Quick breaths, deep breaths, no breathing at all. His date. When had she become such a sucker for that boyish charm? And now she had to find a dress
—
with a day to spare. She shook her head and her gaze landed on the cruiser. Fashion emergency later. Right now, some cop was drinking his or her brains out in Soulless. Amanda turned and headed into the bar.

Patronized by martini-addicted, high-end clientele, Klasson Hill district's top grossing bar was a cop favorite. Quirky, curving fishtanks separated the booths, neon tubes of blue light split the top half of the walls from the bottom, and rock music pounded into the deep mahogany of a dance floor usually thick with bodies. Nice enough a place to kick back without worry of a brawl, but for her off duty comrades the free shots and pints for law enforcement officers were more the draw than atmosphere.

Amanda spotted one of the organized crime detectives
—
Hunter
—
hunched over a row of shot glasses six deep on the bar. In the barstool beside him, Lieutenant Dale, looking halfway to plastered.

Her gut clenched fast and hard. She both didn't want to see him and wanted to tell him off as publicly as he'd humiliated her.

How had Ryan known Dale was here?

The bartender acknowledged her and Hunter swiveled, then waved her over.

"We're celebrating the end, Werner. Pull up a stool and stay awhile," he said, swinging a shot into the air. It sloshed, clear liquid dribbling over his fingers.

"Are you celebrating for the entire precinct?" How long had the two of them been here to get this toasted?

"Get lost, Werner." Dale's hard words belied a very sober frown and negative jerk of his head.

He resumed the dazed posture and scooped up a shot glass of his own, tipping it back with relish. Understanding dawned in an instant. Her lieutenant wasn't drunk. But Hunter was, which meant Dale had been loosening him up for an impromptu interrogation. Crude.

Desperate.

He had the wrong man.

Pale blue eyes and blond hair would have stood out in the night, and with a short, compact frame, Hunter wasn't big enough to be Klepto. Amanda had to stop this and tell Dale about her findings before he turned suspicion of a traitor in their midst into a witch hunt.

"How about I call a couple of cabs instead?" she suggested.

Hunter polished off his vodka and leered at her with a sloppy grin. "I'll go home if you join me, gorgeous."

Right. The minute the electric-powered vehicle pulled up, she'd dump him in to sleep this idiocy off.

Dale's shoulders hitched.

Amanda bit back a retort and headed for the phone booth with Dale's narrow-eyed glare nailing the spot between her shoulderblades. So she ruined his operation. He'd stripped her badge in front of her entire team, the CSU on site, and three different news crews
—
he could deal. When the cab pulled up, Hunter didn't have time to protest. His drunken reflexes were too slow to catch the door. Amanda ducked back into the bar to be hauled into one of Soulless's rentable banquet rooms by an angry, frustrated lieutenant.

His mustache quivered. "I needed him, Werner."

"We needed to talk." She perched on the edge of the long table and crossed her arms. Dale's bones were stark against the weary lines of his face. Despite her own frustration, Amanda felt her forehead scrunch with concern. "You haven't been sleeping."

"There is a serial killer on the loose."

A killer he'd had contact with, but hadn't told the team about. Theresa's warnings rattled through her anew. How deep was he?

"No sleep means mistakes, Lieutenant," she said. "Going after Hunter like this
—
"

"I have my reasons."

"Yeah, I bet. I saw the ballistics report." She narrowed her eyes, challenged him to deny it.

A glint of . . . satisfaction?

Her instincts blazed.

"No way." She sat straighter. "You sent Charlie."

"Did he tell you otherwise?" He rubbed the coarse stubble on his chin and frowned. "The department had taps on some of the lines. It's tricky to tell who's on the right side of this. I know it means little right now, Detective,"
—
and he held up a hand to stop her from denying the title
—
"but I wanted you to be clear, and I needed someone on the outside, someone free and clear of red tape who I could trust."