Locke and Load Page 10

  Her heartbeat stopped again. He was giving her the chance to confess. To tell him about any past relationships. But, God, she couldn’t tell him about Rojas. About how the monster had used innocent children to force her to marry him. It wasn’t the same. It was dangerous.

  So she switched gears, tugging his knuckles to her lips. “I hope you’re not ready to sleep.”

  A wicked smile spread across his face. “Not at all.”

  The heat funneling into his gaze sparked a fluttering low in her belly. “Good, because I’m not done with you either,” she stated, rolling onto him, not because she felt less threatened, but because she wanted to kiss every delectable inch of him.

  And she did, brushing her mouth over his shoulder, pecs, then the ridges of his abs. Damn, he had great abs. They quivered under her tongue as she licked her way south, enjoying the taste of his hot, salty skin.

  His muffled curse made her grin.

  A second later, he grasped her shoulders and hauled her up his deliciously hot, hard body. She moaned at the feel of her flesh brushing his. Then he was kissing her lips, thrusting a hand through her hair to hold the back of her head while the other cupped her ass as he ground against her.

  She was lost, found…done.

  “Cage,” she breathed, and then held on as he flipped them over and took his time, reacquainting every inch of her body with his tongue and his hands.

  By the time he opened another condom, she’d had her third orgasm and was riding a wave to that blissful edge again. Then he was entering her, saying her name, his gaze smoldering with desire and heated affection.

  Time stood still. The world faded away. Rojas and her fears faded away. All she knew was Cage, and the feel of him on top of her, inside her, the long, delicious pull of their bodies as he took her apart, then put her back together, making her whole, bringing her home.

  When they were finally spent, and breathing ragged, he rolled onto his back and tucked her against him. Nikki’s last thought as she drifted off to sleep was of how hard it was going to be to leave him when the mission was over.

  The next morning, Cage was in the kitchen, devouring what was left of their midnight snack. He was famished, and the reheated quesadilla they’d made between round three and four hit the spot. The beauty slumbering in his bed had reduced him to a boneless mass before dawn.

  Nikki always had taken everything out of him.

  Twenty minutes ago, he’d snuck from the room, careful not to wake her. They’d been at it all night, reacquainting their bodies, reawakening temptations, healing old wounds. She deserved some rest…earned some rest. Especially since he intended to continue to make up for lost time today, too.

  First, he’d needed to recharge. He glanced at his empty plate.

  Done.

  Second, he needed to check in with his partner.

  He grabbed his phone and battery near their discarded glasses from yesterday. What a difference a day made. He felt lighter, content, happier than he had in a long time.

  Epiphanies had that affect. So did great sex.

  And answered questions.

  For years, he’d walked around confused, tortured by the thought that the woman he’d opened up to, bared his soul to, given everything to, could throw him away and move on to another man.

  But now he knew the truth—well, at least part of it, and it made a world of difference knowing Nikki hadn’t thrown him aside, hadn’t moved on.

  She’d been undercover.

  Of course, learning she’d been an NIO shocked the shit of him, and…yeah, if he was going to be a pansy about it, he had to admit it hurt that she’d never confided her real job to him. He’d been nothing but open and honest with her.

  Speaking of covers, he was eager to crawl between the sheets and lose himself in her mouthwatering, naked curves. He slipped the battery back in the phone, turned it on, and set it on the counter near a bowl of fruit while he waited for the cell to power up.

  He’d spent way too much time dwelling in the past. It was time to concentrate on the present. Nikki was here. And loved him, and he wasn’t letting her get away again.

  “There you are.”

  He turned to watch her walk into the kitchen, wearing his gray Jacksonville PD T-shirt…and nothing else. Heat immediately flooded his groin, and he grew hard watching the bounce of her gorgeous breasts and the way her nipples brushed the thin material in a high-beamed salute. He dropped his gaze to her long, curvy legs, noting the shirt barely covered the top of her supple thighs.

  “Good morning,” she said, sauntering close and sliding her hands up his chest while she lifted up on tip-toe to kiss him.

  Warm and soft, she melted against him, her tongue greeting his, as he grabbed two handfuls of her sweet ass and rocked his hips.

  A good morning indeed.

  And about to get better.

  He broke the kiss and lifted her up, smiling at her squeak when her hot ass hit the cold granite.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll heat you up,” he promised with a grin as he reached for his phone near the fruit bowl. “Just let me check in first.”

  She nodded, grabbing a banana. He knew he should look away, but instead, he held her wicked, mischievous gaze as she shoved the peeled banana in her mouth and slowly bit down.

  His erection throbbed with the action and he muttered a curse. Eager to replace the fruit with his body, he dialed his partner.

  “Jesus, it’s about time you checked in.” The urgency in Jersey’s normally jovial tone spoke volumes.

  Cage stiffened, on instant alert. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Hutchins was shot. He’s in ICU. Wilson is missing. And Rivera is on a rampage.”

  Christ. He stepped back, thrust a hand through his hair, and blew out a breath. “I’m off the grid for less than a day and the world goes to pot.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s insane.” An undercurrent in Delaney’s tone kicked up his adrenaline.

  Nikki jumped down, concern darkening her questioning gaze.

  “Look, Cage, there’s more. Where are you?” Jersey asked.

  He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, suspicion getting the best of him. “You know I can’t say.”

  “Right.” A frustrated breath rang in his ear. “You need to come in. Both of you. Like I said, there’s more.”

  “We’ll be there within a half hour.”

  “Okay. Pull the battery from your phone,” his partner ordered, tone grave enough to make the hair stand up on his arms. “And Cage?”

  “Yeah?”

  Be careful.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time Cage parked at the precinct, Nikki’s nerves were on high alert. She’d tried to reach Knight, to see if he knew about the anthrax, or had any information about Hutchins or Wilson, but the screen on the bracelet TJ had given her was black. Dead. Nothing.

  It’d been fine yesterday when she’d checked in. Her mind couldn’t come up with any explanation as to why it suddenly didn’t work today.

  And because she’d given Rivera her phone at the warehouse three days ago, she had no means of communication.

  Yet.

  Cage glanced around the parkade, then stared at her. “I don’t know what’s going on. Just be on alert.”

  She’d been on alert since the damn phone call, and Cage’s strange behavior. She got the impression he hadn’t told her everything.

  When they made it from the car to the building, then all the way to Rivera’s office without incident, Nikki breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Captain, what the hell’s going on?” Cage asked as they walked past Delaney to stand in front of the captain’s desk.

  Rivera rose to his feet, relief easing the lines around his mouth. “Ah, good. You’re here. Both of you.”

  “How’s Hutchins?” she asked, holding the man’s direct gaze.

  “In surgery.”

  Nikki blew out a breath and tried not to think about the last time she was in that very offi
ce, and how the senior detective had been fine, and his partner hadn’t been missing.

  Cage glanced from Delaney to Rivera. “How exactly did he get shot?”

  “No idea. It’s a mystery. Like Johnson,” the captain replied. “He was found on that damn dock. No security footage. And Hutchins hasn’t been conscious to shed any light on who shot him or Wilson’s disappearance, or why the hell they were even there.”

  “If it was a disappearance,” Delaney spoke up, pushing from the wall.

  She noticed a slight stiffening to Cage’s shoulders as a deep frown creased his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “I realize I’m the newbie here, but evidence is evidence, and lack of evidence is suspicious,” the northerner stated, blue gaze dark, without the usual spark of amusement.

  He had a good point.

  “And?” Cage prompted.

  The captain muttered a curse and dropped back down into his chair. “There was other blood on the dock…Wilson’s blood. And Hutchins’ piece was fired.”

  Damn. Her gaze bounced between the men. Disbelief and suspicion mixed to form a trio of skeptical expressions.

  “Look,” Delaney said, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not saying the shootout happened between them, but we need to consider it.”

  She stepped to the desk. “Captain, if I can have my phone, I’ll call my guy and have him run a sweep of the area for whatever timeframe you deem pertinent.”

  “Of course.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and withdrew her phone. “We’d appreciate any help we can get. Tell him to start the search around four o’clock yesterday afternoon.”

  “Did Hutchins or Wilson say why they were going back there?” Cage asked.

  “No.” Delaney shook his head. “And I pulled their phone records. But there was nothing to indicate a need to head to that location.”

  She moved to the corner of the office to dial TJ and request the surveillance.

  “Sure thing, sweet thing,” TJ said into her ear. “Just watch your back and keep your eyes open. There are indications of another attack.”

  Shit. She opened her mouth to inform the captain when a knock sounded at his door.

  “Captain Rivera, can you come out here, please?” Three men in black suits stood in the hall, gazes expressionless except when they stared at her with…alarm.

  Nikki’s heart rocked in her chest, then raced with rising fear.

  And when they realized she had a phone in her hand, one of the men pulled a gun and aimed it at her. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to put down the phone.”

  “What the hell?” Cage stepped in front of her like a shield as Delaney stepped in front of him the same way.

  “TJ, get Knight down here now—” she managed before the suits advanced and shouting ensued. She set the phone on the captain’s desk…without disconnecting, then raised her hands and backed away. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s just a precaution, ma’am, but we need you to come with us.” The taller man, the one who appeared to be in charge, stepped forward, forcing his men to lower their weapons. “Put them away. I’m sure Ms. Locke won’t give us any trouble.”

  “If she doesn’t, I will,” Cage growled, reaffirming his stance in front of her. His broad shoulders blocked her view.

  She peeked around his side. “Tell me who you are first.”

  “Homeland. I’m Agent Pryor. That’s O’Toole and Beers. We’ll explain everything in a minute. We’re just going to take you down the hall. Your watchdogs can follow.”

  She glanced to Rivera. He lifted his shoulders and shook his head, but she got the impression they’d told him something because his gaze held a glint of suspicion.

  With the intrusion hindering the investigation, Nikki saw only one way to get answers. She stepped around Cage and strode to the agents. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Nikki, wait.” Cage lunged for her, gripping her arm to turn her around. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting answers. It’s okay. I’ll be all right,” she said, touching his hand. “Their appearance here can’t be a coincidence. Let’s hear what they have to say.”

  Reluctance tightened his jaw, but he released her. She glanced at a concerned Delaney and nodded before following Agent Pryor from the room.

  Two minutes later, a slice of anger heated her spine when she found herself escorted into the wrong side of the damn window in a Jacksonville PD interrogation room.

  “What the hell is going on, Captain?” Cage barked, pacing outside interrogation room three. Anger heated the blood racing through his veins. “Why is Nikki in there?”

  “Yeah, what do they want with her?” Delaney backed him up.

  The captain walked to the observation room door and opened it. “See for yourself.”

  His heart dropped to his feet and remained there as he forced his limbs to move forward. “What’s going on, sir? I’d like to hear it from you.”

  Rivera nodded as he closed the door behind them. “There was another anthrax threat.”

  Threat, not scare, so that meant no one was hurt, yet.

  “Shit.” Jersey slumped against the far wall of the ten-by-ten room that housed a desk with two computers, and a large one-way window with a view into the interrogation room.

  “What does it have to do with Nikki?” He pointed to the woman he loved, sitting at a table across from two Homeland agents.

  In a room he usually used to interrogate suspects.

  “You can’t possibly think it was her?”

  “It wasn’t.”

  He rounded on his boss. “Then why the fuck are they treating her like a criminal?”

  “Because she’s married to one.”

  He reeled back. “What?”

  Married?

  “Santiago Rojas is her husband,” Rivera replied, but it still made no damn sense.

  Nikki would never go for a man like Rojas. Sure, she may have married. Hell, he had. And he’d also told her. Last night. But she’d never said a word. Just, initiated sex…

  Shit.

  But…Rojas?

  No way.

  The captain stepped to the computer in the corner and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. A second later, Cage’s world crumbled around him as he stared at a photo of Nikki, smiling up into the face of the known arms dealer/drug lord.

  Her hair was shorter…like it had been when she’d left him four years ago.

  “Wait a minute. There has to be some mistake,” Jersey said, stepping closer. “Maybe she was at the same party with the guy.”

  Their boss clicked the mouse, and a marriage license filled the screen. “No mistake. Sorry, Cage,” he said, cupping his shoulder. “He was arrested two years ago, and somehow managed to escape. Homeland believes he’s in town, and they don’t think it’s a coincidence that the lieutenant is too.”

  Delaney laughed without mirth. “Look, I don’t care what they’re saying, or what’s in their damn file, that woman in there is not responsible for any damn anthrax scare.” Jersey jammed a thumb at the view of Nikki sitting at a table, across from Pryor and Beers as the large agent, O’Toole, stood near the door. “Right, Cage?”

  He blinked, trying to refocus on his partner and the conversation, but all that kept going through his mind was that Nikki was married, and never told him, even when he’d told her about his marriage.

  What else hadn’t she told him?

  He suddenly knew there was more. Much more.

  “Cage?” Jersey stepped closer. “Come on, man, you don’t honestly think she’d spread that shit, do you?”

  The woman might be a liar, and even a cheat, but she wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. That much he did know. He shook his head. “No.”

  “Listen,” her voice carried over the speaker as she stared down the men interrogating her, “there were two detectives shot in this precinct. One murdered, the other fighting for his life, and a third one that’s missing. Why are you wasting my time in here? I’m on l
oan at the governor’s request to assist Captain Rivera. I have an investigation to conduct.”

  “Had…you had an investigation,” Pryor corrected, speaking up for the first time. “Now, you’re going to help us.”

  “If you wanted help with your anthrax situation, you sho—”

  “Whoa,” Beers, the wiry agent, cut her off as he leaned closer. “What do you know about the anthrax situation?”

  She leveled him with a stare. “What the police know.”

  “You said you were down here to work on a murder investigation.”

  “I am.”

  “Then why would they share any anthrax information with you?”

  “I don’t know. Go ask them.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “You’re also wasting valuable time, asshat.” She sat back and folded her arms across her chest, anger stiffening her shoulders. “Quite beating around the damn bush. What do you need my help with?”

  “Your husband,” Pryor replied.

  She blinked, and her head snapped in Pryor’s direction. “What?”

  The lead investigator opened the folder in front of him, then slid a photo across the table to Nikki. “Your husband. Santiago Rojas.”

  Cage stopped breathing, watching her face, studying her expression, posture, nuances…waiting to see how she responded.

  Her face and gaze were closed up tight. “Why?”

  Shit. That wasn’t exactly a denial of marriage.

  “We’re asking the questions, Ms. Locke,” Agent Beers hissed, jamming a finger into the table in an attempt to appear tough. But with his small stature, he failed. “Or should we call you Mrs. Rojas?”

  Her head snapped back and she glared at the guy. “The marriage was annulled.”

  Ah, hell…she actually married the Columbian?

  Cage’s insides fisted against the invisible blow. If she could even consider being with a man like Rojas, then maybe he didn’t really know her at all.

  Beers gloated. “There’s no record of any annulment in the system. Just your marriage license.”

  “That bastard,” she muttered, clamping her jaw, and he took a little solace in the fact that she appeared to not want to be married to the guy. Then she stilled, and transferred her gaze to Pryor. “Why did you drag me in here to ask about him? What has he done?”