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6:00 p.m.
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Pulse galloping, Kate strained to see any activity outside, but her limited view out the window revealed only the glittering Vegas skyline. Liam had left Murphy to defend her and Aubrey. Had rushed headlong after a possible armed assailant. Her heart skipped a beat. Without his partner. Without backup.
She looked at the wall clock, willing the hands to move. Liam hadn’t mentioned calling 911, but maybe she should. She glanced at the bedside phone. And say what? Liam thought he saw a flash? Maybe someone is targeting us? Oh yeah, Chuck Hanson, gung-ho FBI dick would gleefully slap an unfair false police call-out on Liam’s record.
But sitting here twiddling her thumbs while Liam potentially risked his life? She could do something. Kate retrieved the telephoto lens from her purse and attached it to her Leica, then draped the strap around her neck. She slipped to the floor and crawled to the window. Crouched below the sill, she thrust up the camera and snapped blindly.
Long-distance shots were Renée Allete’s forte, her signature style. Distance gave the impression of an outsider looking in. Kept the photographer’s emotions out of the picture and emphasized only the scene.
That’s what she envisioned. Apparently Liam had a different opinion. How odd that he’d mentioned “Man in the Shadows.” She’d been wandering the streets of Paris at 2:00 a.m., unable to shake thoughts of him. The man she’d spotted ... his tall, limber frame, the set of his wide shoulders, the way his dark hair curled over his collar ... jarred her with similarities to her Irish charmer. She’d been missing Liam more than she missed the use of her right arm when she’d captured the moody portrait.
Of all her photos, it was the only one she truly loved. The only one she’d refused to sell, and kept a print of. She took it wherever she went. It was currently displayed on her condo’s bedroom wall, opposite Grandma’s painting.
A slight pop sounded from inside the camera, followed by a soft grinding noise. Aw crap. The micro SD slot spring mechanism had gone wonky. Again. She’d had it fixed twice already. But she loved this Leica. It was the camera she’d formerly used to capture seascapes, and the only thing she had left of her previous artistry.
She risked a fast peek outside. Nothing unusual. She crawled back to the bed, perched on the end, then glanced at the wall clock. Liam had been gone over twenty minutes.
Kate stared at the phone, wracked by indecision. Because she hadn’t seen or heard a commotion didn’t mean he was all right. Guns had silencers. Knives didn’t make noise. What if he needed help? What if he lay crumpled in an alley, bleeding to death? The agonizing image crushed her chest until she could barely breathe.
She checked the clock again. Twenty-two minutes.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-four.
Twenty-way-too-damn-long. Hell, she’d take the rap if nothing was wrong and Hanson tried to nail Liam.
As she reached for the phone, the door opened and he strode inside. “Miss me?”
No bullet holes, no knife wounds. No blood. Her trapped breath whooshed out. “Finally! I was about to ...” Her jaw dropped as she saw what he carried.
“Mission accomplished.” He held up a water-filled fishbowl, where a goldfish swooped in happy circles. The bowl also contained small plants, rainbow colored gravel, and a miniature Arc de Triomphe.
She blinked in stunned disbelief. “I’m being stalked by a fish? Somehow I thought he’d be taller.”
He laughed softly. “Officer O’Rourke always gets his ma—”
“Mackerel?” Shouting in a whisper wasn’t easy, but she managed. “I was scared half-to-death ...” Her voice quavered. “And you were shopping for amphibians?”
“Well, technically, fish aren’t amphibians—”
“Do you think I give a crap about a biology lesson right now?” Fear, relief, anger unspooled in rapid succession. “A dog isn’t enough? You felt compelled to acquire another pet?”
“By the time I hit the street and checked everything out, a potential UNSUB—if there ever was one—had ghosted. I reported it, but I doubt the local cops will find anything. There’s a pet store next door to the hospital, and I was already out.” He set the bowl on the bedside table, along with a box of fish food. “Goldie here will give Aubrey something to care for, to care about. Something happy to do besides watch TV. I already cleared it with the charge nurse.”
“Oh.” Unaccustomed to thoughtfulness, it hadn’t occurred to her he’d bought a gift for Aubrey. “Oh!” She strove for words through a throat so tight it was hard to speak. “She adores fish.”
“So I gathered.”
Her throat filled with poignant emotion. “That’s the sweetest thing I ever ... you ...”
His mouth quirked in a half-smile. “You were worried about me?”
“Of course not. You’re a well-trained, armed SWAT officer. You can take care of yourself.”
Gentle hands clasped her shoulders and coaxed her toward him. Even in the midst of a mini-meltdown, she noticed he was always careful with her. “You said you were scared half-to-death.”
Kate pulled out of his hold, pivoted, and her back hit the wall near the door.
He’s safe now. Lock it down.
But the contrast between her earlier terror and his heartfelt gesture had hurtled her onto an emotional roller coaster. “An expression people blurt without thinking—”
He planted both hands on the wall on either side of her, caging her in. “When they’re upset?”
She swiped at her cheeks, aghast to find them damp. Was horrified to discover she was shaking from forehead to French manicured toenails. “I am not upset!”
“Hey.” Light-as-a-feather fingertips brushed her lashes. “Those are real tears.” He cupped her face in both hands. “You’re trembling. I thought you were joking, but you were worried about me.”
“You were gone so long. “I was afraid you were wounded, or ...” She choked, unable to say the word. “I didn’t know ... how to help you.”
“I didn’t expect you to help me.” Midnight brows met in bewilderment. “I handle bombs and deal with bad guys every day. My family is packed with cops, used to the lifestyle.” Clearly amazed, he leaned down. “Nobody’s ever cried over me.”
“I’m not crying.” She sniffled. “Probably allergies.”
“I’ll buy that.” His low, intimate whisper washed over her. “You’ve developed an allergy to feelings.” He eased closer, and she was caught between his hard-muscled body and the wall. Heartbeat thundered against heartbeat. He was warm, vital ...
Alive.
And she was relieved. No ... overjoyed.
Shock and surprise tumbled inside at the depth of her caring. The upheaval jolted her totally off-balance. Struggling to regain her footing, she studied the dark stubble shadowing his jaw. Remembered the erotic tingle as it brushed her bare skin. A shiver rippled over her. “I’ve dreamed about you.”
She cringed. Why had she spilled that horrifying secret?
Astonishment blanked his expression. Then he gave her a tender smile. “It’s okay to have feelings,” he murmured. “And dreams.” Those gentle, callused fingertips stroked her face, and she broke out in shivery goosebumps. “People who don’t have dreams don’t have anything.”
“What ...” She swallowed hard. The dizzying blend of his nearness and her blunder made coherency impossible. He had no idea about the lightning whip of feelings he incited, about the bold demands of her dreams. “What do you do when your dreams get blasted apart? When they shatter at your feet?”
“Exactly what you’ve done.” His gaze locked on hers as his clever fingers moved to caress her throat, graze her collarbone. “Pick up the pieces and create something new. Channel the passion inside you to redefine something imperfect ... in the perfect way.”
“My pictures are hardly perfection.” They’d satisfied some of her yen to create, but didn’t come close to baring her soul on canvas.
“I bought a gallery book of your work. I had no idea you were Renée Allete.” His irises flared with a dangerous gleam. “Your photographs are incredible. Unforgettable. I couldn’t resist them. They grab me by the throat.”
His praise sent happiness winging. “They do?”
“Yes.” His husky whisper feathered over her lips. His green irises went smoky, and her stomach swooped on a flutter of anticipation. “Christ help me, so do you.”
She couldn’t stop herself. Kate closed the millimeters separating them and captured his mouth.
The first time they were together, passion had erupted between them. A cyclone that’d swept away all reason. She hadn’t had time to think, to breathe. She’d let herself be swept into the chaos, riding the storm of pleasure.
Now, his soft lips beguiled, coaxed her to sail on the warm wind of desire. Her lashes floated down in willing surrender. Some things hadn’t changed. Liam’s tender touch, his intoxicating taste, his fresh scent, all immersed her in him.
Only him.
Everything faded away. Nothing existed but her and Liam ... and his seductive, shimmering allure.
“Mmm,” she hummed. Oh, she’d dreamed about his kisses. But dreams didn’t even touch reality.
His big hands slid into her hair, cradled her head and urged her nearer. His warm, silky tongue dipped inside, flirted with hers ... teased, withdrew, then thrust in again. Degree by exquisite degree, he notched up the heat. His fire licked at the wall of ice inside her, thawed her control.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. He was hot and hard, fiercely aroused. And, God, so was she. But this wasn’t merely chemistry. More than wanting. She cared about him in a deep, elemental way she’d never felt before. Didn’t understand. Couldn’t explain.
She told him the only way she knew how. She kissed him without restraint, releasing her tumultuous emotions.
His heartbeat kicked against her breasts. He groaned, deepened the kiss. He drank in her essence, made love to her mouth as if he would go on kissing her until the world ended. Fine tremors vibrated in his steely muscles, leashed energy fighting to be freed. Revealing his need was as strong as hers.
He still wanted her—as she’d never been wanted before.
Her pulse scrambled and every neuron in her brain fired. She was willing to give him anything.
Give him everything.
* * *
Liam lost himself in Kate as she quivered beneath his touch. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. Nobody had ever needed him the way she needed him. He’d never needed anyone the way he needed her.
Thunderstruck, his heart staggered in his chest. Vibrations echoed through him as the universe settled into place. Then a sonic boom exploded inside his skull.
Here she is.
Just Kate.
He reeled, drunk on her flowery fragrance, on the feel of her skin, petal soft beneath his fingertips. On her taste, spun sugar melting on his tongue.
The door pushed open beside them and someone strode into the room.
Liam yanked back from the kiss and turned his head to see a motherly-looking black nurse in pink scrubs heading toward Aubrey’s bed. Kate trembled, her expression a tangle of shock and unsatisfied hunger. Her soft cry of protest, her fingers clutching his shoulders, battered his racing heart.
Panting for air, he gently disengaged her grip. His power of speech was MIA, so he moved aside allowing her to see the nurse.
“Oh, hell,” she whispered. She straightened, cleared her throat. “Hi, Delilah.” Her voice was shaking as hard as her body. “How’re you doing today?”
The other woman grinned. “Not as well as you, honey.”
Kate flushed. “Um ... this is Liam O’Rourke. He brought Aubrey a goldfish.”
Who knew fish did it for you, babe? “Damn good thing I didn’t bring her an orca,” he blurted.
Delilah chuckled as she walked over to the sleeping child. “Technically, whales are mammals.”
“Yeah,” was his witty reply. Adrenaline zinged through his veins. He longed to explore all the new possibilities with Kate. But circumstances, and her safety, demanded he chill the fuck out. He inhaled a fortifying draught of oxygen. “We should go check out the Venetian,” he reminded her. “I need to arrange security for the auction.”
“Yes, right. Delilah will you call me if Aubrey’s status changes?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” Kate tiptoed to the bed and tenderly kissed the sleeping child’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby girl,” she whispered.
Murphy pushed to all fours when they exited the room. The big canine stretched and yawned, showing a curling pink tongue and sharp white teeth. No bad guys showed up. Let’s eat.
Kate quickly moved to Liam’s right, away from the dog.
They ambled down the hall, and Liam rested his palm on Murphy’s soft, warm head. Jesus, what if he was eventually forced to choose between Murph and Kate?
Don’t think about that. Deal with what’s happening right now.
His second priority after insuring Kate’s safety: clear her with the FBI. As long as the Feebs suspected her of terrorist activities, neither of them was free.
He had a shit-load of obstacles to hurdle before he could even begin to explore possibilities.
They walked down five floors to street level, then out into the blast of sunlight and grinding heat. Liam winced. He wasn’t a fan of desert climates, either. A true Oregonian, he slept best when rainstorms drummed the roof.
Inside the Mustang he started to play Phil Collins on satellite radio—another modern addition to his classic muscle car. The opening notes of “In the Air Tonight” thrummed. Every muscle tightened. A whole world of nope. He switched to Queen.
As he drove, he watched his rearview mirrors, but no tail appeared. A grin sneaked out. Maybe biker dude had spread the word.
He caught Murphy’s bright gaze in the mirror, and the dog grinned in response. Yeah. Don’t screw with Murphy and Liam unless you wanna lose some hide.
Though regularly checking her side mirror, Kate sat quiet and subdued. No doubt dealing with the fallout from their volcanic kiss.
“Do you keep a snail mail and email list of gallery visitors and clients?” he asked. At her affirmative nod, he continued. “I’ll need that, along with your doctors’ names, physical therapists, and everyone you regularly do business with.”
“Okay. Mostly it’s art and photo supplies and ...” She sat bolt upright. “I almost forgot! I was snapping shots out the hospital window and my micro SD slot spring mechanism failed. I need to drop my camera off at Custom Camera Care and have them fix it and extract the card. Maybe I caught some evidence.”
A cold fist gripped his heart, squeezed with icy fingers. “You stood and took pictures ... with a possible sniper gunning for you?” He stomped the clutch and brake for a red light, jolting them forward. “I told you to keep clear of the window!”
“I’m not an idiot. I stayed below the sill.”
His hands clenched on the wheel. If she’d gotten hurt ... or worse— He broke into a cold sweat as horrifying images blistered his brain. Had she experienced this wrenching panic when he was outside and all she could do was wait?
What did that say about the depth of her feelings?
The car behind them honked, and he realized the light was green. He ground his teeth. The stalker could have sashayed right up to the car and blown her away while he was gobsmacked. Get your head in the game, O’Rourke. Fuck, he was doing the work of three men here—Larry, Moe, and Curly.
She directed him to a small building tucked between a dry cleaner and a discount craft store in a nondescript strip mall. “It doesn’t look like much, but they’re the best in town.”
“Never argue with success.” He made a covert visual sweep of the perimeter as he escorted her into the shop. Murphy trotted at his left, watchful but relaxed.
A guy with short, curly blond hair challenged Liam the second they cleared the automatic glass doors. “Sorry, sir, you can’t bring that dog inside.” Of average height but stocky, he was wearing tan chinos and a white button-down shirt. His red, yellow and blue striped tie matched the store’s color scheme. Liam pegged his age around thirty.
The guy did a double take, then paled. “Is that a gun?”
Liam plucked his badge case from his back pocket and snapped it open. “Police K-9.”
“Do you have police business here?” he shrilled.
Kate stepped forward. “He’s with me, Brice.”
“Ms. Chabeau! I hope there’s no trouble.”
“Officer O’Rourke is in charge of security for the Allete auction. We’re on our way over there right now.”
“Oh, how wonderful! I’m looking forward to stopping by and choosing an exclusive print for my apartment.” The man slapped the counter, suddenly effusive ... and Liam noticed the knuckles on his right hand were scraped raw. “It’s been a few weeks since you’ve visited us. You look très fabuleux, as always.”
Liam scowled. Dude was a tad too enthusiastic.
“Nice to see you again, too.” Kate offered her camera. “Same problem as the past two times. And I need priority status, please.”
“Right away. Couldn’t give less than my very best to such a lovely fellow Francophile, n'est-ce pas?”
“Oui.” She smiled. “I appreciate it.”
“Thanks for trusting me with your treasure.” Brice offered her a toothy grin, and the back of Liam’s neck prickled.
Too happy to be real. Too interested. Too everything. And scraped up. Liam would have Grady and Zoe check him out.
Brice wrote a receipt. “I have your number. I’ll phone you when it’s ready.”
When they were once again in the car and heading for the strip, Liam glanced at Kate. “How long have you known him?”
“Brice? I’ve used the shop exclusively the past couple years when I’m in town visiting Aubrey, and a lot more often during Aubrey’s hospitalization. His mom was French. She died last year, and he loves my Parisian photos.”
“Happen to know his last name, or any other particulars?”
“Why?” She gasped. “You don’t think he ...”
“He blipped my weirdo radar. Practically kissed your feet. And I saw a sign advertising custom developing for those rare clients who still use film. He’d be proficient with chemicals.”
“He is a bit odd. But seems very sweet. He’s never given me trouble, or any reason to think badly of him.”
“Sociopaths are intelligent and ingenious. They hide evil well. The whack job who’s after you could be your best friend, and you wouldn’t know until it was too late.”
He grabbed his cell and called Grady, then left another message for Zoe with Brice’s info. Afterward, he checked with the local precinct. Frustrated, he disconnected and shared the bad news. “Biker dude rabbited before EMS or the cops arrived.”
“I feel so ... violated.” Kate shuddered. “Someone I might know wants to kill me, for whatever warped reason.”
He clasped her hand and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Nobody will hurt you as long as I’m still breathing.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Venetian. Liam reluctantly surrendered his beloved Mustang to the mercies of valet parking in order to quickly get Kate into the relative safety of the hotel.
The sun hadn’t yet set, but the graceful white columned archways were lit, washing the facade in a welcoming glow. He continually monitored their surroundings as they entered.
Kate preceded him through the lobby and around the ornate gold fountain. The Renaissance art ceilings, imposing columns, and intricate molding never failed to amaze. With Murphy following, they strolled down a side hallway.
The second they walked into the foyer leading to a private reception room, a young man rushed them. Liam registered black leather pants, billowy red satin shirt, and shoulder-length platinum hair in the same millisecond he whipped out his Glock. “Freeze!” he ordered. “Police.”
Murphy stiffened and rumbled a menacing growl. The dog’s ears flattened and his tail lowered. Let me at him!
The would-be attacker skidded to a halt and flung his hands in front of his face as if to ward off bullets. “Mon Dieu!” he screeched. “Katherine!” He pronounced Kate’s name Cat-a-rin. “Aidez moi!”
“Liam, no!” Kate’s heart jammed in her throat as she threw herself forward. Whirling to face Liam, she spread her arms, becoming a human shield for her friend. Gulping down dismay, she cast an anxious glance at the bristling K-9. The hostile dog scared her way more than the gun. “This is my administrative assistant!”
“Goddammit.” Liam’s nostrils flared. He crossed the distance in three strides, the pulse in his throat throbbing a rapid tattoo. “Don’t ever get between me and a target again. Do you hear me?”
His laser glare burned a hole right through her. And it was only a fraction of the intimidation he threw at bad guys. God. It was a wonder they didn’t pee themselves and surrender on sight. “Y-yes.”
Panting, Etienne peered over her shoulder from behind her. “Tres macho!”
“Macho to the wazoo.” Kate pressed a hand to her racing heart. “Officer Liam O’Rourke, this is my administrative assistant Etienne Duplais.”
Metal scraped leather as Liam holstered his weapon. Murphy sat, dark observant eyes trained on Etienne. Freaky how in a blink he could go from attack weapon to vigilant partner. Liam was obviously safer with Murphy on his side. She wasn’t sure about everyone else.
Liam extended his hand. “Etienne.”
“Mon plaisir de vous rencontrer!” Etienne sidled out and clasped Liam’s hand. “Le paradis sur terre existe!”
Kate risked a cautious look at Liam’s bewildered expression. He obviously didn’t speak the lingo.
Etienne still hadn’t released Liam from his grasp. “It is my excessive pleasure to meet you, Monsieur O’Rourke.”
Liam finally extracted his hand from Etienne’s fervent grasp. “Thanks, I think.”
Etienne cast fascinated looks between her and Liam. Her admin was definitely a ladies’ man, but greatly appreciated beauty in all its forms. “Mon coeur, if you do not think this Irishman is tres magnifique, you need to have more than your vision checked.”
Liam frowned. “How do you know I’m Irish?”
“Your name, it is not exactly Italian.” Gilded lashes fluttered. “Aside from that, the black Irish patrimoine is obvious, no? Such Celtic bone structure, such distinctive emerald eyes, such wavy midnight hair ...” Etienne’s forehead furrowed. “Are you dating this agent de police, Katherine? If so, we must have a talk, Monsieur O’Rourke, how you say ... man-to-man.”
She tossed visual daggers at her friend. Could he get any more possessive and protective? “Knock it off, Etienne.”
Etienne flapped his hands. “Where have you been, Katherine? I left message after message, and have worried myself into a state.”
If she mentioned the bomb, her young protégé would come unglued. She’d kept the stalker notes a secret from him for the same reason. “I was at the hospital. Aubrey’s taken a turn for the worse, and Janine had a hard time dealing with it.”
“Tsk, tsk, poor dear bébé. But your photographs will earn a great deal of money and she will be well soon.” Etienne’s lips pursed in a sardonic Gallic moue. “Janine, now there is a woman with simple tastes. Why just look at some of her ex-beaus.”
Liam choked out a laugh.
Chuckling, Kate shook her head. There was nothing the outrageous Frenchman wouldn’t say or do. Not long after she’d set up shop in Paris, he’d sauntered into her studio, literally off the street. Despite his lack of experience and references, he’d astonished her with his creative vision. She’d hired him on the spot.
Liam’s intent stare tracked Etienne’s athletic frame from platinum leonine mane to stylish black pointed-toe boots. “Have an accident, boyo?”
Startled, she studied her assistant. In the gun-drawing, dog-threatening chaos, she hadn’t noticed the extra-large Band-aid pasted diagonally on the right side of his face from cheek to chin. Dark blood spots showed beneath the padded surface.
Etienne’s quicksilver eyes narrowed. “Your agent de police, he is inquisitive much.”
Deceptively casual, Liam rested his palm on his gun. “A fact you’d do well to remember.”
“Subtle as a chainsaw, Lucky Charmer.” Surely he didn’t believe Etienne was stalking her? Etienne wouldn’t hurt a fly, and was completely devoted. She sighed. As far as the conscientious cop was concerned, everyone was suspect until proven innocent.
“Wasn’t aiming for subtle.” Liam hadn’t moved his killer glare off Etienne.
Etienne shuffled his feet. “I was unpacking the shipment of les photographies, and the wooden crate lid, she attacked. Fell on me.”
“You own a motorcycle, Duplais?”
“Oui, pourquoi?”
“Anything besides your face damaged?”
“Thank you for caring, Monsieur Lucky-With-His-Charms, mais non.”
“The biker dude who pursued us crashed. Despite the leathers, he’d likely have some road rash. I’m gonna have to ask you to prove you’re otherwise unharmed.”
Etienne blinked, clearly disconcerted. “You wish me to strip for you? Here? Now?”
“In the men’s room. Me, or another officer of your choice. Or an officer can take you into the station.”
“Liam,” Kate huffed. “Really?”
Liam’s gaze pinned her. “Doing my job. If he wants a warrant and/or legal representation first, I’ll arrange it.”
She sighed. “Can we at least get the auction photos loaded-in before conducting a body search? We’re running out of time.” And she needed to stay busy. Or she would dwell on The Kiss. Would speculate on the implications of their powerful connection. Yearn for the undeniable sense of rightness, the warm welcome of belonging in Liam’s embrace.
Sublimating her feelings was becoming nearly unbearable. She’d spent the entire ride here convincing herself the I want you right here, right now kiss she’d given him—in Aubrey’s hospital room of all places—was temporary hormonal brain impairment jacked up by extreme stress.
Uncharacteristically subdued, Etienne turned to her. “You will be happy to know that when you did not appear, I, myself hanged most of the photographs.” He extracted a key card from the pocket of his leather pants. “My Katherine possesses remarkable talent, monsieur. The instant I saw her brilliance, I could not resist her.”
Watching Etienne closely, Liam crossed his arms over his chest, bunching tanned biceps. “We agree there.”
“Katharine, mon coeur...” Etienne flung apart the doors. “I think you will be très pleased with—” Her admin’s mouth dropped open. He blanched.
“Etienne?” Cold apprehension slammed her. “What’s wrong?”
Aghast, he turned to Kate. Tried to speak. Failed. Tried again. “Les photos sont manquants,” he croaked.
Electric shock crackled over her. “What?”
“Volé!” Etienne whispered.
Kate rushed forward. Her horrified gaze flew inside. She gasped. The room was in chaos, furniture overturned, drapes torn. Except for dangling wires, the walls were bare.
Her photographs were gone!
They’d been stolen!
