Like…attractedattracted. The hot-nights-and-sweaty-sheets kind of attracted. The spend-three-days-in-bed-and-only-leave-it-for-food kind of attracted.
She might know nothing about him as a person. She had absolutelynoidea if they had anything in common. But the feral, animal part of her recognized the feral, animal part of him as a potential mate.
As Dad always likes to say, when it comes down to it we’re all just a bunch of monkeys.
Bracing herself and making sure none of what she was thinking showed on her face, she turned and was greeted by the most amazing pair of icy-blue eyes and the most lickable-looking five-o’clock shadow.
“I don’t know if it matters, Agent O’Toole.” His deep voice and soft drawl swirled in her ear like a wet tongue. She struggled not to shiver. “And I’m sure you’d make the connection yourself soon enough. But Eliza Meadows is Leonard Meadows’s daughter.”
Her mind blanked. Then recognition had an imaginary lightbulb blinking to life. “Leonard Meadows, as in the chief of staff to the president of the United States?”
“One and the same.” Rollins nodded, and now her heart pounded for a whole new reason.
This case wasn’t just going to be headline-grabbing. It was going to be career-making.
Or career-breaking,a little voice whispered from the farthest corner of her brain.
She cocked her head and eyed him curiously. “So what’s a former Ranger and the chief of staff’s daughter doing here in Chicago?”
“Building custom Harley choppers,” he answered unhesitatingly. “We work at Black Knights Inc.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “I’ve heard of you guys.”
She thought she saw something dart across his face. But it was there and gone so quickly, she couldn’t be certain.
“I work with Grace Jackson,” she clarified. “She’s married to one of your coworkers, correct?”
“She is.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Are you friends with Grace?”
“Mmm.” She shook her head. “She works in the counterterrorism division. I’m on the criminal investigation side of things. But we’ve exchanged a hello or two around the coffeepot.” She lifted a finger. “Wait a minute. Doesn’t the starting pitcher for the White Sox ride one of your creations?”
Some kids were baptized Catholic. Southside Chicago kids were baptized Sox fans. It wasn’t an option.
Again, something briefly crossed his face. Something that resembled relief. But it was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving her wondering if it’d ever been there at all.
“Indeed he does.” His chin jerked down briefly. “And the point guard for the Bulls too.”
From Ranger to rider, from military man to motorcycle man. She didn’twantto be intrigued by Sergeant Britt Rollins. But there she was, completely captivated by his cowlick, forehead scar, and the way his T-shirt clung to the hard balls of his biceps when he crossed his arms.
Oh, that is so inconvenient.
Despite her better judgment—and the pressing need to get upstairs and interview the other witness—she heard herself say, “Grease-monkeying has to be less stressful than volunteering as government grist in some faraway land.”
“Pays a whole helluva lot better too.” He offered her a genuine smile and a wink. The unrepentant sexuality contained in the latter lit her on fire.
Reallyinconvenient,she thought as she turned and hurriedly caught up to her partner.
4
Black Knights Inc.
The steam that rose around Eliza was so heavy and thick she could barely see the shampoo bottle in the steel caddy hanging from the showerhead. The clouds of water pressed in on her like hot, wet hands, sticking their waterlogged fingers down her throat and filling her lungs with their stifling humidity.
She didn’t reach for the faucet to adjust the temperature, however.
Sheneededthe heat. Needed it to seep into her bones because she couldn’t shake the cold that’d settled in her core. Needed it to scour Charlie’s blood from her skin, from her hair, from the inside of her nose because it was all she’d been able to smell since regaining consciousness. Needed it to steam away the memories…theguilt.
That last part was wishful thinking, of course.
