Pulling the front door of his apartment closed behind him, Peter strode along the hallway to the elevator.Distantly, he hoped Rex would be okay.Reggie would have his nuts if something happened to that damn lizard of hers.He didn’t have a terrarium so the best he could come up with on short notice was turning every reading lamp he owned on, trying to emulate its baking heat.If Rex wanted to warm his cold-blooded body while “visiting” Peter’s home, he’d have to stretch out on a copy of the February edition ofPlayboy.Or the January edition, if he wasn’t into redheads.
He shoved his keys into his hip pocket, the unnerving sense of unease he’d first experienced at seeing Yolanda Vischka still gnawing at him.She’d waited for him while he dropped Rex off, preferring to sit in his car.“I have a phone call to make,” she’d said, the husky tones of her voice playing with his senses in ways he couldn’t fathom.Jesus, the way he reacted to her anyone would think he was a horny sixteen-year-old, not a thirty-nine-year-old, seasoned divorcé.
He walked quickly along the hallway to the elevator, playing over everything that had happened so far, doing his best to do so as a cop, not a worried-sick brother: Reggie’s disappearance, the unknown men on the end of her phone line, her trashed home, Detective Vischka…
An image of the blonde filled his mind and Peter’s feet stumbled.
Scowling, he jabbed at the elevator’s down button.The drive to deposit Rex at his apartment had been disturbing.The woman sitting beside him oozed with sensuality and mystery even as she questioned him about Reggie’s disappearance.She kept creeping into his head, taking up space and time that he should have been dedicating on his sister.
Christ, he didn’t need this now.
But youhaveit now.What are you going to do about it?
The ding of the elevator’s door opening saved him from the answer.He stepped into the small cubicle, punched the “door closed” button and forced his attention back to his sister.Forensics would have the results of the urine samples taken from Reggie’s house in the next hour or so.He would head over to the labs and see if the results gave him any clue where to head next.If they didn’t…
Don’t think about that.Not yet.
He stormed from the elevator, scrubbing at his face as he headed toward his parked car.Jesus, what would he do if he couldn’t find her?What would he tell their parents?
“The walking handbag is going to be fine, yes?”
He dropped his hands from his face, his throat growing tight and dry at what he saw.Perched on his car’s hood, her long legs crossed at slim ankles, her arms folded under breasts high and full and heavy, was Yolanda.
She’s sin and heaven all bundled into one enticing, distracting package, you know that, don’t you?
“Rex will be okay,” he replied, keeping his voice calm and detached.“Did you make your call?”
The skin around Yolanda’s eyes seemed to tighten.“Yes.”
Peter studied her.He’d known her for less than an hour but already she was worming her way under his skin.Not just the way she looked, but the way she acted, like a fragile creature pretending to be a vixen.Or a vixen masquerading as a lost soul.He couldn’t figure out which.But she was getting to him in a way a woman hadn’t for years when he needed to concentrate the most.Damn it, he never had this problem with Doughnut.
Frowning, he walked past her, too aware of her perfume for peace of mind.Shooting her a quick look, he yanked open his door.“I need to see the guys at Forensics.Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?”
Eyes suddenly sharp, she straightened from the hood.“I will come with you.”
He shook his head.“That’s not necessary.I’m sure you have quite a bit to do.Getting settled into a new city and?—”
His cell phone cut him short.
Snatching it from his jacket pocket, he whipped it to his ear.Damn it, let this be Reggie…“Thomas.”
“Detective Thomas?”the gruff voice sounded on the other end of the connection.Cold disappointment flooded through Peter.“This is Senior Sergeant Garrett, Bondi Local Area Command.Damn, it’s taken me a while to track you down.Do you know how many Detective Thomases there are in Sydney?”
Peter frowned, impatience making him edgy.“What can I do for you, Sergeant?”
“I have a gas station mechanic from North Bondi who tells me your sister’s been abducted by an Irishman.Do you know what he’s going on about?”
The pulse in Peter’s neck leapt into furious life.“I do,” he said, his grip on the cell phone increasing.He flicked another look at Yolanda, unable to suppress his grin.“Tell me where he is.”
Peter followed his new partner into the gas station, agitation setting his teeth on edge.She’d peppered him with questions the whole way here:Where would your sister go?Does she know any Irishmen?Have any secrets?He was certain the questions were meant to help, but for some reason they seemed dogged, overly insistent.
His eyes—almost of their own accord—dropped for a fleeting second to Yolanda’s butt as she took a step up into the gas station’s store and, noticing its seam-free firmness, he suppressed a moan.Damn it, he was going to kick Doughnut’s flabby ass when he returned from medical leave.If it were Doughnut walking in front of him, his mind would be firmly focused on the job at hand, not whether his partner was wearing a thong or no underwear at all.
“I tell ya, the bastard growled at me.Like an animal.”
The shouted words snatched Peter’s attention from his partner’s ass to the short, wiry and very greasy man in even greasier coveralls, yelling from behind the counter at a silent uniformed cop.
Yolanda stepped forward, placing glossy, blood-red tipped fingers on the cop’s shoulder and a completely unexpected, irrational twinge of jealousy stirred in Peter’s gut.“We will take over, Officer.”She turned to the agitated man coated in grease.“What type of animal, sir?”
