“Here. Close your eyes and try this.”
Eden did as Kelly asked and leaned over the kitchen island, her mouth open and waiting. The tines of the fork slid past her lips and a fluffy layer of buttery-sweet warmth coated her tongue.
“Mmm…” She chewed and then groaned as a tart blueberry burst over her taste buds, cutting through the thick maple syrup to add the perfect bite of heaven to Kelly’s pancakes.
Holy Betty Crocker in a pair of distressed black jeans. “God, that’s fantastic.” She swept a sticky spot from the corner of her mouth and then sucked the syrup off her fingertip. “Since when did a box of pancake mix and some frozen blueberries equal carnal bliss?”
Kelly’s eyebrow twitched, and he lowered his chin, a wicked twinkle in his gaze. “Put your finger in your mouth again, and I may just have to toss you back over my shoulder.”
A thrill vaulted several back-flips through her stomach, and Eden breezed a giddy laugh. Okay, wait. Seriously? She blinked. For crying out loud, the man had turned her into some Beibermaniac version of a gushing, weak-kneed fangirl.
Bent at the waist, Kelly rested his weight on one elbow, his bicep a pumped mound of masculine goodness and his naked torso disappearing past the edge of the counter. He swayed his hips and Eden sat up higher on the stool to catch the lip-smacking flex of the tattoos scrawled along his thick obliques.
Yep. Fangirl about covered it. Even after watching him prowl around her apartment all night wearing nothing but a smile, she still had trouble believing he wasn’t some fantastic mirage she’d cooked up in her head.
“It’s weird because the steaks last night also seemed better than usual.” He narrowed his eyes, wagging the fork over the plate he’d centered between them and stacked with enough steaming pancakes to feed the top five floors of her building. “I think you broke my taster.”
“What?” She laughed again, crossing her arms beside her half-empty coffee mug, inching closer so she could breathe in the heady blend of his sleep-sated skin and sandalwood shampoo. “Granted, I can do lots of things, but I think you might be overestimating my skills.”
Then again, her appetite had been off too. No matter what she ordered, eating anything the past four days had been like trying to choke down wet sand.
“Hmmm…” He tapped the fork tines against his full bottom lip and her focus fell to the dark strip of hair below his talented mouth. His scruff was thicker this morning than last night. More defined. Completely edible. “I can think of a few things you haven’t done yet.”
Her thighs involuntarily clenched, and she squirmed, re-crossing her legs. God knew, whatever parts of him she’d missed hadn’t been for lack of trying. “Yeah, well, give a girl some credit. There are only so many hours in one night.” And they’d used a good portion of them to make up for the ones they’d missed.
Exactly as Kelly had suggested, they’d tested the durability of pretty much every flat—and some not so flat—surface in her condo. The couch, a living room chair, her bed, the counter in her private bathroom, the rug in front of the fireplace, one or two walls…
God, if her cleaning service employed the use of a UV light she was screwed.
“I gotta agree with you there. One night was definitely not enough.” He cut the fork into the stack of pancakes and speared a double-layered wedge.
Da-a-ang. Eden swallowed hard, following his motions as he eased the sticky morsel into his mouth. Good God, he’d turned her into a sex addict. They’d barely left her bed an hour ago and she was already revved up to hop back in…because he was eating. Sheesh.
At least she’d slept, though not very much. And yet, the few hours she’d gotten with Kelly had been so deep and relaxed, the fatigue she’d been fighting the past week had disappeared. For the first time since she’d left the precinct, it hadn’t hurt just to get out of bed.
In fact, her body nearly seemed weightless. Like once she hopped off the stool, she’d better play it safe and double-check her feet had landed on solid ground.
“Any ideas what we should do about tonight?” He pushed up from the counter and lifted his coffee, and her attention dropped to the eight pack rippling down his ribcage as he brought the mug to his lips. He’d left the top two buttons of his fly undone. The tease. And from the way his loose waistband grazed that delicious dense vee bunching down his hips, apparently the use of underwear had become redundant.
She locked her gaze with his, partially hidden by the bed-headed chaos of his hair. She’d tangled her fingers through those thick strands so many times, it was a wonder he had any left.
Yeah, she had some ideas. A whole suitcase full. A damn moving truck stuffed to the windshield with ideas. Unfortunately, following through would make her late for work, and with only three days left until she’d agreed to step off the case, keeping to a strict schedule was critical.
“Well, that’s a bit tricky, don’t you think?” She slid off the stool, cup in hand, and—surprises never ceased—the click of her heels accompanied her steps around the island to the counter.
Kelly turned and leaned against the sink, the heat of his gaze seeping through her white pencil skirt to singe her ass. “How so?”
“Well, for starters, what if D’Avella finds out about our extracurricular activities?” Eden had scoured her brain for a more permanent workaround. God knew, she loved having him here. For the first time since she’d bought the place, Kelly had turned her condo into a home instead of a pointless use of too much space.
Whether or not they should push their luck with a second overnighter, though, the call was his. She pulled the coffee pot from under the basket and refilled her cup, turned and lifted her brows to offer him another shot of caffeine as well. “I thought you didn’t want to risk being taken off the case.”
He held out his mug with one hand, raked the other through his sex-tangled hair. “I have a hunch Cap and everyone else at the precinct already knows.”
“What?” Eden jerked her hand back mid-pour and most of what was left in the pot surged past the spout.
“Whoa, whoa, careful.” Kelly hopped to the side to protect his bare feet.
“Shit, sorry.” She tore the towel off the stove handle and tossed it in his direction, but for God’s sake, he should’ve led with that the moment he got here. The entire precinct knew? How? When?
Jostling the pot back onto the burner, she reeled a wad of paper towel off the holder and dropped it to the floor. “Kelly, what happened? What’d she say when she found out?”
“Not much.” He knelt and mopped up the mess while she grabbed a few more sheets and scooted them around under her shoe, clearing the last of the drops. “But if she wanted to bust my balls, she probably would’ve called me in by now. Since she hasn’t, I can only assume she’s playing dumb since no one has filed a complaint charging me with misconduct.”
Bracing one knee on the tile, he swung his arms overhead, and every defined muscle from his shoulders on down contracted in a centerfold mock-up as he lobbed the used paper towel toward the trash. The swinging cover spun like a turnstile and the sides wobbled as the ball landed dead center. Nothing but net.
“Even if she did, it wouldn’t have changed anything.” He waved her close and she one-footed the pad under her shoe toward his knee. “On or off the force, I already told you last night I’m sticking right where I am. With you.”
Well, damn. He’d ranked her above his career? She slumped.
On the other hand, if given an ultimatum, she’d do the same. No contest.
Truth was, she’d believed him when he’d said he wasn’t leaving. At least, for right now. And the way he’d gone to the trouble of hunting down her last name had blown the roof off any pre-conceived ideas life had taught her about the quality of the human condition. But long-term? Like, for the rest of their lives?
She wrinkled her nose. Yeah, that ride still seemed a tad far-fetched for her to step to the window and buy a ticket.
A repeat performance of his first shot, and Eden propped her hands on her hips. “I think you missed your calling.”
He smirked, his penetrating blue eyes scorching every inch as he trailed his focus down her neck, past the snug fit of her stretchy white shirt, eating up her curves like some devoted patron worshipping at the altar of her body. His hand cupped the back of her ankle, and he skimmed his fingers up and down her calf. “You got a killer set of legs, you know that? Jesus, and these heels. Sexy as hell.”
She went all wobbly at the mouth-watering visual of him kneeling before her. Stroking her. Damn, one touch from those calloused hands and he had her libido simmering on a slow burn. Coupled with his constant reassurance, it would be a miracle of biblical proportions if she didn’t implode right in the center of her kitchen.
“What else?” His fingertips coasted past the hem of her skirt to her inner thigh.
Her core throbbed, and she closed her eyes, wavering on her heels. “Huh?”
“You said D’Avella was your first concern. What’s the second?”
Shit. She shook her head. Talk about dousing her with a bucket of cold water.
Easing back a step, and then another, she tried to memorize exactly how he looked in the moment—hands relaxed on his thighs, the stretch of tendon across his chest—just in case this next bit had him storming for the door.
“I’m pretty sure Adrian’s outside.” She quickly held up her hand. “Not that I want you to go out there and do anything about it.” That episode of Tom and Jerry would end in more than a few broken lamps and destroyed refrigerators.
“Oh, he’s definitely out there.” Kelly pushed to his feet. “Count on it.”
Right, but that was exactly her point. She was counting on it. As long as Adrian stuck with her like a loyal, obedient stalker, he was doing exactly what she’d anticipated. Not only that, his presence confirmed her scheme was working. And good thing too, since he wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting around, counting down the minutes until they met face to face.
The only downside? Today was day five of her agreement with Captain D’Avella. Time was running short, and P-rat still hadn’t made a move.
Which meant something was holding him back.
Narrowing her gaze, she chewed her bottom lip. While she had zero doubts Adrian would wait forever for a green light, she hadn’t been afforded the luxury of an open-ended calendar. Counting today, she only had three days left.
Perhaps the time had come to dangle a carrot in front of his face.
Turning away from Kelly, she paced the counter, heels rapping the tile with each measured step.
“Uh-oh.” He pivoted to follow her with his gaze. “I smell trouble. Care to tell me what’s going on inside that devious head of yours?”
By now, it was pretty much guaranteed everyone who had been monitoring her activity had grown accustomed to her routine. But maybe that, in itself, was the problem. Up through last night, Mocha had insisted on shuttling her around. She’d spent her evenings with him via the video feed and even let him monitor her status long after she’d gone to bed. Being the well-behaved girl she was, she’d stuck to populated areas, showing off to everyone how she was playing it safe. But none of that had offered Adrian a window of opportunity.
She needed to do the unexpected. Work some wiggle room into her schedule so it’d be easy for him to catch her alone. A few minutes in the hallway here. A half hour shopping layover there. She could build a slow increase into her day so that, with any luck, by Thursday, Adrian would be comfortable making a move.
And as for the towering, rock-hard sex god standing in her kitchen?
Shit. She swiveled around on the toe of her shoe. As if she hadn’t pissed him off enough to ditch out the back door already. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t warned him. Kelly knew full well she had relationship dyslexia. Even though the last thing she wanted was to hurt him, cause him any more grief, if she didn’t follow through with her plan, everything she’d fought for up to this point would be a waste.
“I need to start putting myself out there more, Kelly. I need to take bigger risks or we’re never gonna stand a chance at catching Adrian in the act.”
His chin inched a couple degrees toward the ceiling, and he crossed his arms, but instead of shooting her down right off the bat, he ran his tongue along the front of his teeth.
Then squinted.
Double shit. Abort! Abort!
“If you’re suggesting we pull back the surveillance team, I can tell you right now that’s not gonna fly. I won’t have it and neither will D’Avella.”
“No, no, I agree.” She wagged her finger. “But I don’t want anyone freaking out if I switch things up, either. The whole point is to make Adrian think he’s got the upper hand. Fool him into believing the police don’t have any leads. He’s been waiting for me to make a mistake and, as of today, I haven’t made any.”
The doorbell chimed, and Kelly whipped his chin right, a scowl lowering his brows. “Who’s that?”
“Mocha. He’s been picking me up every morning for work.” Eden left the kitchen for the living room, Kelly hot on her heels. “Relax, Detective. Darnell isn’t about to let a deranged killer into the building. He’s the best security guard in the city.”
She checked the peephole to find Mocha on the other side, glaring at the door like someone had stuck a red hot poker up the back of his skirt. A quick toss of the deadbolt, and Eden twisted the knob.
“I have been calling you all night. Land sake’s, girl, you had me in a panic!” He burst into the room and then screeched to a halt. His wide eyes lingered over Kelly, slowly descending from the top of his head down to his bare feet.
“Sweet baby Jesus,” Mocha whispered. “My, my, my.” He glanced at Eden. “Now that makes sense. When you said one of the detectives was stopping over, I didn’t get it, but yeah. I can see you’ve had your hands full. And I mean that in the most literal way.”
Eden rolled her eyes, slamming the door. “Mocha, you remember Detective Riordan. Kelly, you’ve already had the pleasure of meeting Mocha.”
“Thanks for the counterfeit ID, by the way.” Kelly stuck out his hand, and Mocha grimaced before stepping forward.
“Just a little hazing.” He flicked a smile. “You know, to initiate you into the group.”
Kelly cocked a brow. “Uh huh.”
Okay, whatever that was about, Eden didn’t have time to dissect the particulars. The clock was ticking. She strode to the couch and shrugged into her suit jacket, scooped up her white wool coat and shouldered her purse. “We should go. I don’t want Adrian getting suspicious something strange is going on.” Even though it was. She snagged Jade’s bright green scarf off the arm of the couch and looped it around her neck.
“Hold on a second.” Kelly propped his hands on his hips. “We weren’t done.”
“Oh, God.” Mocha blanched.
“No, Mocha.” Eden sighed. “Not that.”
“Oh.” He waved off her comment. “Too bad.”
In two long strides, Kelly closed the distance and grabbed her upper arm, steering her back toward the kitchen. Not that she blamed him for being miffed. She’d taken off on him before and the aftermath had landed her in the center a real-life horror flick.
He spun her to face him and she placed a finger to his lips before his head could explode. “Just listen a second. I promise not to do anything drastic, okay? I’m not planning to disappear or go off somewhere without letting you know.”
He jerked back from her finger. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Good.” Some of the irritation faded from his eyes, but he still seemed anxious. Edgy.
She cupped his scruffy cheek. “I’ll call you later, okay? To check in?”
“Right.” He darted a frown at Mocha—who suddenly became fascinated with a piece of abstract art hanging on the wall—wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her into the heat of his chest. “You didn’t answer my other question. That bullshit about Adrian got us off track.”
Ah. So that’s what he was stressed about. It did suck to have a broken taster, after all.
She smiled, running a nail along the defined dip between his pecs. Something about the dark possession in his eyes told her Kelly would never let her get off track again. “Got any friends over at Impound? You’re gonna need a floral delivery van.”
“I got it!”
The office door flew open and Eden swiveled away from the credenza, her thumb poised over her cell in mid-text.
“Yes!” Tanner dropped her basket of sandwiches on the floor and pumped her fists, wiggling her hips in a hoochie dance. “Grant Dufferman is going down, ladies. Say so long to the Benz ʼcause he’s gonna need it for bail.”
Eden locked eyes with Mocha from across the office and they shared a laugh.
Blond curls bouncing past her shoulders, Tanner strode to Eden’s desk and smacked a portable drive down on the blotter. “It’s all there. The unauthorized videos from the hotel rooms, copies of his Facebook chats with about a dozen underage girls, money transfers to pay off the ones who threatened to talk and nearly four years’ worth of receipts showing how he reeled them in.”
Nice. Coupled with the testimony of the five victims Eden had tracked down and their willingness to press charges, no attorney in the free world would be able to dislodge the bullet Dufferman had shot into his foot.
“Your probation is officially over.” Eden grinned. “Not only that, you just earned yourself a fat raise.”
“Hallelujah!” Tanner swept the blond wig off her head and tossed it to her chair. “Drinks on me tonight.” Starting down the path between the row of desks, she approached the supply room and tapped in the code, tossing a wink over her shoulder. “Whaddaya say, boss? Only an hour left before it’s the weekend. Should we knock off early?”
Hmmm. Now there was an idea. Eden pursed her lips.
It’d be a lie to deny Tanner’s enthusiasm was contagious, and despite P-rat’s persistence to stick to dark alleys, Eden did have a few special things to celebrate. After all, it wasn’t every morning a girl woke up to the sweet nothings of a guy like Kelly being whispered in her ear, brand new shiny last name tied with a bow.
“Sure, why not?” She deleted the first words of her text so she could start over. “We could hit the top of the John Hancock and order some of those fancy hors d’oeuvres.”
“The only thing I’m hitting is a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.” Mocha tossed his pen to his desk. “I’ve gained three pounds from the stress eating. Adrian Pratt has blown my diet to hell.”
Eden huffed, thumbing the screen. No, not white roses. The condo needs a splash of color. How about a variety of flowers? All different. U pick. She hit send and set her phone aside. “Liquid dinner?”
Mocha stood and turned back and forth in the overcast reflection of the window, his hand holding his stomach. “A man has to do what he can to protect his girlish figure.”
Tanner chuckled. “Done. Give me ten minutes to change.” She shoved through the door and Eden’s phone chimed as the pneumatic hinge hissed closed behind her.
She centered her cell on her desk and swiped her index finger over the screen. A woman of extremes. Good to know. I plan on using that in my favor.
Ha, ha, funny guy.
Mocha rounded his desk and plucked Tanner’s basket off the floor, walked the sandwiches to the refrigerated room and four beeps sounded as he punched in the code.
You’re just getting that now? I thought we covered extremes first thing this morning. Eden tapped send and waited.
A second later, Mocha reappeared in her peripheral vision. He straightened his stapler and the stack of paperwork overflowing his inbox, lifted the wig off Tanner’s chair and slipped it onto his hand to shake out the curls.
Eden’s cell chimed and she leaned over the screen. Yeah, you’re gonna have to refresh me. Which part? Feel free to elaborate.
Heat tingled low in her belly, and she fanned her face. God, where did she start?
Mocha finally shot her a sidelong glance and jammed his fist onto his hip. “Okay, enough. Sexting is one thing, but you two have been at it since we left your building. What’s the deal?”
“It’s complicated.” Another chime, and Eden glanced at her cell. Before or after I was on my knees? Dammit. She fanned faster.
Mocha slapped his hand over her phone. “I know you may find this difficult to believe, but complicated is my middle name.” He eased one hip onto the edge of her desk and nodded toward her neck. “Let’s start with the scarf. In the five years I’ve known you, not once have you worn anything but white. Never. Now suddenly, out of nowhere, we have bright green.” He opened his palm toward her. “Discuss.”
No, not out of nowhere. And not bright green, Kelly green. But that was easy to explain.
The hard part was describing the addictive, punch-drunk euphoria that flooded her limbic system every time Eden thought of the man who made her implode hotter than a Fourth of July firework. But hey, if Mocha wanted to take a shot at enlightening the class, he could have at it. God knew, words failed when it came to explaining the way Kelly had spun Eden’s world upside down.
She reached inside her briefcase and shuffled through the files for her birth records, propped her elbow on her blotter and offered them across her desk to Mocha. “Kelly gave me this last night. Read it and then tell me how you feel.”
One of Mocha’s perfectly tweezed eyebrows rose, and he snatched the documents from her hand. His eyes shifted back and forth over the top page, and he gasped, placing three fingers to his lips. “Eden…Hall?”
She smiled, nodding.
“He gave you this?” Mocha aimed a neon green nail at the sheet. “He gave you this?”
Eden’s smile grew, and she nodded again.
“Sweetie, this is everything you’ve been working toward.” Tears formed in Mocha’s eyes as he flipped the top page over and back again. “Every job you took. Every dollar you squirreled away in the bank. You planned on using those funds to track down your identity.”
“I know.” Eden chuckled at the watery disbelief in Mocha’s gaze. “It was my plan, remember?”
“Well…” He tossed his hand in the air. “I don’t know what to say. I’m completely blown away by this.”
That was putting it mildly. “Yeah, he’s had that affect on me too.”
A few seconds passed, and Mocha heaved a dreamy sigh, shaking his head.
“Oh, my God.” He stiffened. Blinked at her like she’d sprouted a set of antenna. “You’ve fallen in love with him.” He fluttered the pages under her nose. “Of course, you have. What girl wouldn’t with this kinda romance thrown in her face?”
Right. Except for one important fact. She wasn’t a normal girl.
Eden filled her lungs to deny such a thing existed. To call Mocha out for being silly or state love was a marketing scheme cooked up by Hallmark so they could make sure their profit margins stayed in the black.
Yet, oddly enough, nothing came. The air whooshed past her lips and she sat there like a Parisian mime.
Hold on a second. She frowned. Last night, she’d told Kelly she didn’t believe in love and he’d agreed that particular trap wasn’t for him either. Check. She’d flat out said she didn’t love him and he’d responded with a big ol’ “I don’t love you too.”
But the commitment in his voice is what had driven the meaning home for her. The way he spoke made it seem like what they shared wasn’t love, but something different. Unique. A distinct emotion that had been reserved exclusively for them.
“I’m not sure love is the right word, Mocha.” Eden chewed her lip, searching for a way to express what had happened. Nope, I got nothing. “It’s just…us.”
She flinched. Wow. What an off-the-wall thing for her to say.
He rocked back from her, skepticism clear in the way he peered at her from the corner of his eye. “Call it what you want, baby girl. I know love when I see it.”
The supply room door opened and Tanner breezed through, dark bob swinging as she strutted her stuff in a leather miniskirt and knee-high stiletto boots. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“Did you hear the latest?” Mocha tossed the birth records toward Eden and she returned them to her briefcase. “Eden’s having a torrid love affair with Detective Starsky.”
She sputtered. Torrid, yes. No question. Affair? That implied a temporary status and, based on their recent conversations, it was pretty clear Kelly no longer considered them short-term.
“I kinda figured something like that was in the works.” Tanner swung her coat onto her shoulders and collected purse from behind her desk. “No offense, boss, but it was kinda obvious you two had paired up during the meeting.”
Great. First the entire precinct, now Tanner. Apparently, when it came to hiding her feelings for Kelly, Eden had lost her touch.
Arms crossed, toe tapping, Tanner waited as Eden and Mocha shut down their computers and gathered their things. “The other one, though. That guy needs a swift kick in the pants.”
“Who? Hutch?” Mocha winked at Eden as they shuffled into the corridor. “What in the world would make you say that?” He jiggled the doorknob to make sure the office was locked and the three of them started for the elevator.
Eden’s sense memory kicked in as they neared the call button, and she deeply inhaled.
Missed a step.
That smell. Like worn mothballs. The bone-deep grime of a house that hadn’t been cleaned in twenty years.
Shit. She clamped down hard on the impulse to glance over her shoulder. Adrian had been in the hallway. Goddamn it, he was finally close. The rank odor that polluted every room he entered was something that had stuck with her for ten years.
She stared straight ahead at the elevator, face composed, waiting for the doors to open. Behind her, Mocha and Tanner argued over whether or not Detective Archer should be their next target as payback for his rude behavior.
But the thing Eden couldn’t nail down was why she hadn’t smelled it in the alley. The shock of being attacked from behind, maybe? The fact they’d been outside instead of in an enclosed environment?
The doors parted with a bing and she led their group onto the car, pivoted in the center and hit the button for the ground floor. Or the more disturbing option, over the past week, something had changed. Either Adrian didn’t care anymore if she recognized his smell, or he’d become so desperate to grab her, he’d made a stupid mistake.
Nothing moved as the corridor shrank to a sliver. The car descended, and she glanced toward the corner security camera, hidden underneath a bubble of reflective glass. Had he figured out she was working with the police? Hacked into the building’s security system so he could monitor their conversation?
Hell, did it even matter? Deciding what came next while Tanner and Mocha were a captive audience was a risk she’d just have to take.
“Tanner, how much did you pay for those heels?” Eden tugged her cell from her coat pocket and thumbed the screen. Dammit. No service in the elevator.
“They set me back almost an entire paycheck.” Tanner twisted her ankle to the side and stared at her foot. “Why? You don’t think they were worth it?”
Eden bounced her phone in her hand. Once Adrian had her outside, the list of unknown variables would skyrocket. While she had it, she wasn’t about to lose this shot at a home court advantage. She turned her back to the security camera and lowered her voice. “Get off on the ground floor and ditch your boots in the stairwell. They’ll be too loud and only slow you down.”
The young girl frowned. Mocha’s eyes slammed shut, and he muttered a curse.
If, however, Eden could get Adrian to follow her into the office, it would only be a matter of seconds before Kelly found out. Just like the ones at her condo, the cameras she and Mocha had hidden inside were set to feed straight to the Chicago PD. Whoever was watching would see and hear everything right as it happened.
“Work your way back up to our floor, but be quiet and, for God’s sake, don’t interfere.” On the chance Adrian snagged Eden in the hallway, Tanner could provide a second set of eyes and ears. “I don’t know which route he’ll use to try and get me out of the building but, if we show up in the stairwell, record everything on your phone. We’ve got some time, ladies, and I plan to make sure Adrian and I have a nice long chat in the process.”
“A confession on camera,” Mocha whispered. “Sweet Jesus, remind me to never piss you off.”
Eden smirked. God, she adored her friend, and if this worked, whether or not Adrian dragged her anywhere would become a non-issue. The jig would be up without Eden ever having to be kidnapped. “I’m taking the elevator back up. Mocha—”
“I know, I know, I’m on contact detail.” He bobbed his chin. “The minute my heels hit the pavement, I’ll call D’Avella and tell her we’re a go.”
“Keep everyone clear until Adrian confesses.” The cables bounced as they reached the ground floor, and Eden glanced between Mocha and Tanner. “If we do this right, we’ll have him locked up tight before bedtime.”
“Damn.” Mocha fluttered his false eyelashes. “And here’s me with my cocktail shoes on.” The doors slid open, and he squeezed her hand. “Be careful.”
He and Tanner hit the lobby and peeled off in opposite directions. The elevator closed, and Eden jabbed the button for the nineteenth floor.
Staring down at her phone, she pulled up the last text she’d gotten from Kelly. Even though sending from inside the elevator wouldn’t work, she could always type a message and have it ready for the second she got off.
Her thumb paused over the screen. He had every right to know what she’d decided, and he’d have it in a matter of seconds. Explaining her reasoning to him again through a text would only send him into a panic. And the last thing she wanted was to start another fight.
She wiggled her shoulders as indecision warred. He knew her. He always had. Kelly understood exactly what she was about in a way that defied reason. Did she really want to waste what could be the last message between them on Adrian Pratt?
I don’t love you.
The overhead numbers lit with each level until she’d reached her floor. The doors parted, and she left the elevator, sent the text and slipped her phone back into her pocket.
Nothing tripped her internal alarm as she neared the office. No unusual sounds or movement. She entered the four-digit code into the keyless lock and pressed her thumb on the scanner.
Out of the corner of her eye, the access door to the stairwell swayed inward a fraction of an inch. Hello, my old friend.
The same calculating awareness that accompanied every job settled over her skin like a familiar set of clothes, and Eden twisted the handle and entered. “I’m alone and unarmed, Adrian. Come and get me whenever you’re ready.”