CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I’d barely swung the door open when Romero hooked his arm around my waist, lifted me an inch off the ground, and pulled me flat against his rough leather jacket and hard, rugged body. He planted his full lips on mine, his irresistible masculine smell wrapping itself around me, his bristly beard scratching my cheek.

I abandoned any prior thoughts and embraced the kiss, the heat from his burning hunger moving through me like liquid fire. His tongue spiraled expertly around mine, seizing my mouth, fueling the yearning inside. He deftly slid his hands down my back, clasped my buttocks, and molded me closer. No mistaking he was turned on.

He sucked on my bottom lip for a fervent moment, then tore himself away, his mouth hot, his stare intense. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

His fingers grazed my rhinestone earring, and he moved in again, his voice almost a hush as he planted a soft kiss just below my ear. “They say diamonds are forever.”

An ardent rush ripped through me from his stroke that was stimulating yet tickled my skin. I gripped the doorframe, my heart thumping from the kiss, my feet struggling to support me. “You have any more clichés you want to share?”

“Only one.” He drew me in for another squeeze. “You looked like you needed that.”

“Like I needed that!” Actually, he was right. I did need soothing, just not in the arousing way Romero offered. At any second, Jock would be at the door. Not that I cared what he thought, but I didn’t want to be caught with my pants down…so to speak.

“And I don’t think that’s a cliché.” I peered down at his muscular neck and opened collar, dampening the desire to rake my fingers through the dark hair on his chest and pull him in for another long kiss. “And you’re pretty sure of yourself, detective.”

He gave me a roguish grin, his gaze dropping to my breasts. He took his toned hands and skimmed them down my sides, his thumbs subtly brushing my nipples through my thin sweater.

“Would you rather I torment you by flickering my tongue on your hot skin?” His voice was low, husky with longing.

Oh Lord. My breasts tingled, and I was almost comatose with pleasure. An aura of brazen sex appeal surrounded Romero. He knew it, too.

I groaned, all thoughts of Jock and clichés vanishing, the throbbing inside me from Romero’s touch nearly sending me into orbit. If I didn’t break free, I’d have an orgasm here and now.

I mustered what strength I had left and wriggled out of his grasp, the power of his kiss leaving me weak and shaky. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” He closed the door behind him and followed me into the living room.

“Cope when there’s so much misery out there.”

He slapped my butt. “It helps when you have something to look forward to.”

I jumped and turned around, catching his penetrating stare on my figure. Suddenly, I remembered his words this morning about wanting me in one piece because of things he had planned. And by the look in his eyes, he didn’t mean making bread. “Uh, did we have something on for tonight?”

“Not in a formal sense.” His eyes darkened, the spark there sexy and dangerous. “But you’ve been on my mind all day.”

The man headed a tight unit of tough cops and was in demand 24/7. Where did he get the sexual appetite?

My cheeks heated, the implication of his words sending a fiery pulse to my groin. Dating Romero was still in the early stages, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d forget my oath to take it slow and I’d rip off his clothes with my bare teeth.

I gulped, reining in my thirst. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned about Ziggy?”

He grinned, not fooled by my ploy. “Okay. You win. What do you want to know?”

I shrugged. “Any news on his whereabouts? The journal? The shooting at Kuruc’s?”

“Negative on his whereabouts.” He spread his jacket wide, his gun gleaming at his hip. “But forensics is working on matching the saliva from the paper bag. I’d bet my pension it was Stoaks under that crude mask. Plus, a Buick was hot-wired shortly after the Kuruc’s episode and ditched in the south end of town. No fingerprints on the car, but hair samples from the driver’s seat should match samples from the paper bag our boy wore.”

“So if it is Ziggy, he’s still around.” I narrowed my eyes, calculating where he’d strike next.

“As for the journal,” he continued, “we matched the handwriting to some of Dooley’s paperwork from the Wee Irish Dude.” He gave me a nod. “You were right about him. He agreed to stalk you, then realized you weren’t the girlfriend Stoaks claimed you to be. The last entry in the journal contained several expletives showing remorse and shame, and an oath that Dooley was washing his hands clean of Stoaks.”

A trace of sadness filled me again when I thought about Dooley dying because he refused to hurt me. Maybe he’d started out tracking me for Ziggy, but in the end, he’d done the right thing.

I chewed on my lip and frowned.

Romero’s breathing slowed, and his eyes dilated. “You keep chewing on that lip of yours, and I’m going to have to do something about it.” He took a step closer when the sound of a loud engine rumbled down the street. A moment later, the noise died in my driveway.

Romero looked at the window. “You expecting someone?”

I swallowed carefully. “Um, Jock?”

He did the cop stance, his shoulders tense. “You don’t seem too sure about that.”

“I’m sort of sure…since we have a date.”

“A date.”

“Not a date date. More like a bike-ride…date.”

“A bike ride. At nine o’clock at night. With Mr. Universe.” His hands were on his hips as if he didn’t know what to make of this.

I clutched his wrist, peeked at his Iron Man watch, and smiled up at him sheepishly. “It’s only eight forty-one…and a half.”

He stared down at me, stone cold, the lines around his mouth tight.

“Well, it’s your fault!” I stammered. “You were the one assigning half of Rueland to watch out for me.”

“And that’s what he’s supposed to be doing…watching out for you.” It was more a clarification than a question.

Before I could answer, there was a knock on the door. Romero gave me a stern look, then strode over to the door and opened it.

Jock dominated the doorframe, dressed in a black leather jacket and pants and snakeskin boots. The same boots he’d worn not two hours ago when he’d stepped foot in the salon. And if I hadn’t been such a dope, I would’ve recognized his boots the second I’d seen them. A shiver ran through me. Okay. So I’d acted impulsively. He could’ve been a killer.

Jock inhaled deeply, probably debating entering the house. He nodded at Romero, keeping a grin in check that showed he’d heard our exchange. The high-voltage tension between the men bounced off the walls like a ricocheting bullet.

I didn’t know what the problem was. A mere twelve hours ago, they were standing in Jimmy’s restaurant, discussing Dooley’s death. What was so different now? Because the focus was off Dooley? Because they were on my turf? Because they both had feelings for me? There was a moment’s pause where they were alone with their thoughts, then Jock tilted his head at Romero.

“Any news on Stoaks?”

“No good news.” Romero’s chin hiked up a notch, and his hand rested on his gun hip. It wasn’t a huge statement, but the pose suggested who was in charge here, and more importantly, who was the love interest. His phone vibrated. He tugged it out of his pocket and read the screen. “Got to go. Job’s calling.”

There was an unmistakable gleam of triumph in Jock’s eyes. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say he was looking forward to getting me alone.

My insides did a loop-de-loop, and I couldn’t determine if it was out of anticipation of the night or worry. Jock caught my eye and winked, and I knew the nervousness was both from anticipation and worry.

I put my shoulders back, pretending to ignore his seductive wink. I was a woman in control. Having two men in my house raging with testosterone, each of them extremely handsome and sexy, didn’t have any effect on me. No siree.

Romero sauntered to the door, clearly doing his best to mask the pain in his foot. He turned and straightened to his full six feet. “You going to be okay?” His eyes softened as he gazed down at me.

“Yep,” I squeaked, gripped by the devotion I saw in his eyes.

He looked back up at Jock. “She’s not a fan of bikes. Take good care of her.”

Jock gave Romero an assertive nod, the gesture saying he wasn’t the least bit threatened by another man, detective or otherwise. “I plan to.”

Romero gave me another kiss, full on the lips, then slammed the door behind him.

* * *

We were on the road ten minutes when Jock swerved off Montgomery and headed south toward Lexington. I leaned into him, holding on for dear life, switching from closing my eyes tight to opening them wide so I could catch a glimpse of the nighttime scenery.

We zipped by Phyllis’s neighborhood, flew by the Cotton Gin—the old fabric warehouse—and crossed over ancient railway tracks that were covered knee-high with weeds. None of this was awfully scenic, and I was beginning to think this whole idea was a bust.

I didn’t have a clue where we were heading, and I’d changed my mind about the crisp air and fresh outlook on life. It was damn cold out. Despite being swaddled in my leather jacket and sitting behind Jock who made a decent windbreaker, I was almost at my limit of touring the town on a motorcycle.

Jock slowed down to avoid a rough patch in the road, and I told myself I was acting like a spoiled brat. He had something planned, and I’d have to trust him. I sucked it up, buried my head into his back, and prayed we’d get there soon.

We traveled a few more miles, then Jock curved onto a single-lane paved road boasting a sign that said Rueland Area Airport. We sailed past the sign, and I tapped his shoulder.

“I think you made a wrong turn,” I shouted into the headset. “That sign said Rueland Area Airport.”

Jock took his hand off the handlebar and squeezed my leg. “You don’t have to yell. I can hear you clearly.”

I wasn’t yelling because I didn’t think he could hear me. I was yelling because I was freaking out. “What are we doing at an airport? We’re supposed to be going for a bike ride.”

He patted my leg and resumed his grip on the handlebars. “We are. Having fun yet?”

The stars were out by the millions. The end of my braid was flying in the wind. Reluctantly, I had to admit that for the first time in twelve hours, I’d left the trauma of the day behind. Of course, that was probably because I couldn’t think straight since my hands were frozen and my brain was numb from the cold.

I kept my arms tightly wrapped around Jock’s waist. I was too afraid to loosen my grasp even though we’d parked near a two-story building and Jock had killed the engine.

He helped me off the bike and released my bag from one of the saddlebags by the back wheel. Then he set our helmets inside the carriers where they were safe.

“What are we doing here?” I swung my bag over my shoulder and rubbed feeling into my hands.

“Part two of our date.” He gestured to the hangar where a small plane and a helicopter sat out front on the tarmac.

I gaped, my gaze moving from the hangar, to the red windsock on a pole blowing in the wind, to the airstrip lined with red and blue lights.

“Part two?” I shot him a chilly glance. “You never said anything about a part two.”

He took my hand and led me toward the hangar. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

“With what?”

“A chopper ride over the city.”

I stopped cold and pulled back. “I think I’ll be going now.”

He chuckled and gripped my hand again. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen Boston at night.”

“I’ve seen Boston plenty of times at night.” I yanked away from his grasp and was getting so worked up I flapped my hands like I was taking flight myself. “We watched a Red Sox game not that long ago, if you remember.” I stalled for time. “In fact, I was just in Boston last week. For a pap test. By the time I walked back to the garage, paid for my parking, and wound my way through traffic jams out of the city, it was pitch black. Woo-hoo. See? I’ve seen Boston at night. No need to fly over the city.”

“You haven’t seen it like this.” He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

He towed me several feet, and I put on the brakes again, wondering how he’d set this up. “Is this chopper person another one of your acquaintances, like the warden at Rivers View? Some guy you did stunt work with?”

His face went blank. “No. I simply phoned the airport and booked a ride. But since you mentioned it, Alan, the pilot, did do a stint in the military.”

Of course.

“Listen, I should really be home, putting the missing pieces of this case together…for Jimmy’s sake. I mean, aren’t you the least bit concerned that justice is served for Dooley? That we catch Stoaks and prove he’s the murderer?”

He took his large, well-defined hand and tipped my chin up so he could look directly into my eyes. “I’m more concerned about you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the hangar, then gazed back down into my face. “I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He stroked my jawline. “You know that, right?”

Arousal dipped down my spine, summoning the memory of our night together on the ship…and the morning after. Cough. Jock was sexy, tempting, and alluring. And not once had he pushed himself on me. Darn. How could I fight a man when he was being gentle and considerate? That was even more of a turn-on.

When I thought about the things Jock had done with his life, a helicopter ride over the city was probably the tamest. I took a couple of deep breaths and calmed myself. If Jock could do it, I could put on my big-girl panties and do it, too. I’d just ridden on the back of a Harley, for crying out loud. I’d survived that chopper ride. How much worse could this one be?