“We can’t be sure Henson didn’t send Klaus and Vasquez after you. He may think you know something that could lead to his arrest.”
“I have no idea where he is.”
“Henson might think you do.”
She looked up as Edge and two men in dark suits walked into the apartment and headed in her direction.
Edge introduced them. “Callie, this is Detective Zach Powers and Detective Lee Chen. They’re going to need statements from you and Conn.”
Powers was young for a detective, maybe twenty-five or -six, muscular and good-looking, with dark brown, buzz-cut hair and blue eyes. Chen was a few years older, lean, with high cheekbones and very smooth skin.
“Why don’t we go into the kitchen?” Detective Chen suggested.
Conn squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right here if you need me, Callie.”
Her half-brother had saved her today. Edge and Skye had rescued her from Henson’s compound; now Conn had rescued her from a fate she didn’t even want to think about. She had misjudged both her siblings from the start.
As she walked into the kitchen with Chen, Conn sat back down on the sofa and started talking to Skye and Edge. They were there to help. They weren’t going to abandon her even after her disaster with Daniel Henson.
Callie felt a soft pang in her heart.
* * *
The afternoon slid away. It was dusk when the big Ford truck pulled into the parking space next to Edge’s flashy sports car in his underground garage.
“Two spaces came with the unit.” He grinned, a blaze of white in a face so handsome Skye’s pulse kicked up just looking at him. “Might as well use them.”
Skye smiled. “Well, you really did need a bigger vehicle.” And the pickup definitely fit him. The sports car suited the dangerous, outlaw side of his personality, while the truck screamed macho as nothing else could. There wasn’t a man alive more masculine than Edge.
He hit the elevator button, and her stomach lifted. She was going up to Edge’s apartment. There was nothing more they could do on the case until morning, and Callie was safe. As she rode up to the tenth floor, her body tingled with anticipation.
The elevator arrived. They headed down the corridor, and Edge opened the front door. Across the living room, outside the big glass windows, the lights of the city were beginning to flicker on, faintly illuminating the apartment.
As the door closed and Edge joined her, Skye slid her arms around his neck. “It’s been a long day.” Going up on her toes, she kissed him. She’d been thinking about him all day, imagining the evening they would be spending together.
Edge kissed her back with all the passion she remembered from last night. Walking her backward till she came up against the wall, he pressed his hard-muscled body intimately against her, his knee between her legs. Everything inside her began to burn. She could feel his erection straining toward the zipper of his snug black jeans, and hungry need poured through her.
Edge groaned and pulled her even more firmly against him. The kiss went on and on, soft and coaxing, then hot, wet, and demanding. She was panting for breath, Edge’s heart pounding as fast as her own, both of them desperately wanting more. Edge gripped her hips and pulled her injured leg up around his waist—then he froze.
“What . . . what is it?” She could barely breathe. Her skin was on fire, her body damp and aching.
Edge swallowed and released her. “I just remembered something I have to do. Just . . . umm . . . give me a second, and we can start over in the bedroom.” He took off down the hall, disappeared into his study, and closed the door.
What the hell had just happened? Skye wasn’t sure but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Willing her heart to slow, she took several calming breaths and walked over to her laptop, sitting open on the dining room table.
She sat down and stared at the dark computer screen, her mind and body still fighting a haze of lust and need. She tried to focus on the work she needed to do on Sunstar, or maybe she could find something on Sarah Simmons. But her thoughts remained muddled, work the furthest thing from her mind.
She stood up as Edge walked back into the living room. All she could think of was how tall he was, his wide shoulders, and the six pack beneath his black T-shirt. It was embarrassing.
“Did something happen?” she asked. “What’s going on?” His face was still flushed, his skin damp. At least she’d had some effect on him.
“I . . . umm . . . thought we should slow it down a little.”
“Slow it down?” A tendril of uneasiness slipped through her. “Why is that?”
He glanced off toward the window as if deciding how much he should say. “Earlier I noticed you favoring your leg. I figured it would be easier on you if we waited until we went to bed.”
Disbelief warred with anger. “Wait a minute. That’s the way this is going to be? You holding back because you don’t want to hurt me?” She looked him straight in the face. “Or is it something else? What happened between us last night, Edge? Was that you being kind to a woman with a disfigured leg? Was it some kind of pity fuck?”
