Heat of the Moment Page 6

  Cortez finished his speech—a warning, judging by his quiet ferocity—and Liam’s complexion drained of color.

  Commanding Murphy to stay, Liam pivoted and strode toward her as the FBI agent sauntered away. Liam’s eyes glittered with a storm of emotions. Rage, determination and something that looked suspiciously like suppressed fear whirled through the emerald pools as fast and lethal as a tropical typhoon.

  This was not the lighthearted Irish charmer who’d enchanted her two years ago. This man was serious business. All cop. Dangerous. Lethal.

  What had Cortez told him? Kate took an involuntary step back. Damn fate’s sick, twisted meddling. She’d vowed never again to be anyone’s pawn. Yet, she’d been gift bagged by the FBI and delivered into Liam’s clutches. The man who had witnessed her ultimate mortification. The man for whom she still had far too many turbulent feelings.

  The man who might be stalking her.

  Liam stopped and studied her face. “Are you afraid of me?”

  In so many ways. “No,” she lied. “I need to see about my camera before we leave.”

  To her relief, he accepted the change of subject. “It was in your car?”

  She nodded. “I never go anywhere without it. If it sits in the evidence room too long, who knows what will happen to it, or my film. I have some irreplaceable candids of Aubrey.” Her spirits sank. “They won’t release it, will they?”

  “Don’t be so negative, Just Kate.” He called Murphy to him.

  As the enormous canine advanced, she instinctively retreated before she caught herself and stopped. “Does he have to come?”

  “I know you don’t like him, but he stays with me.”

  Wonderful. Liam and Murphy, both threats, in different aspects. Nightmares dogging her every step. At least he made the German shepherd stay back.

  They trooped down one floor of metal stairs to the basement. Liam had Murphy sit beside the doorway, and Kate followed Liam to the desk blockading the fenced-off property room.

  She couldn’t help but admire the view. Admire? She could barely staunch the drool. Liam’s navy cotton T-shirt strained across impossibly broad shoulders and outlined ripped muscles. Her gaze drifted lower, and she swallowed hard. Drat. Those snug jeans cupping such a nicely shaped behind should be declared a controlled substance.

  The SWAT cop’s stroll was a rhythmic, confident prowl. Not quite a swagger, but almost. A man who knew exactly where he was going and what he wanted.

  A man who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  The gray-haired cop behind the desk shot down their request faster than a fleeing suspect. Once Liam chatted him up and then offered his Glock for some “seasoned advice,” the officer agreed to page his supervisor.

  Where Liam was concerned, luck was a lady. And Lady Luck was with Kate for once in this day of disaster. The supervisor was a woman. Never mind that the bottle blonde was practically old enough to be Liam’s mother. He flashed his shield and his smile—tough call to say which was shinier. After five minutes of O’Rourke charm bombs lobbed her way, the supervisor surrendered Kate’s camera. Kate took satisfaction in the fact that the woman wasn’t too bedazzled to forget to make him sign a receipt. Until she saw that blondie had jotted her phone number on Liam’s copy.

  She clamped down on fury as she marched toward the stairs. Every emotion-based decision she’d ever made had caused a catastrophe…including sleeping with Liam. She couldn’t afford to lose it. She had to remain in control. Unfortunately, she’d been legally chained to the one man who could make her come undone.

  Adding to her humiliation, it wasn’t because he had any special feelings for her. He had the same effect on all women.

  He paused at the base of the stairwell. “Why are you pissed off? We got your camera back.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “And I’m Lucky the leprechaun.” He blocked her way. “What’s wrong?”

  She sighed. “Okay, you’ve officially been appointed my keeper. I’ll do whatever is necessary to save Aubrey.”

  “Ah.” He pursed his lips. “It’s all right to be angry. If my life had been flipped sideways, I’d be torqued, too.”

  “Don’t worry about my emotional state. I certainly don’t.” At least she hadn’t until a smooth-talking, sexy-walking Irishman had disintegrated her composure. “This arrangement will be on my terms. Simple and uncomplicated.”

  “You mean boring.”

  “Maybe so. But we’ll do it my way.”

  “An old, but popular song in Sin City.” His seductive mouth quirked. His sexy, knowing smile could cause a revolt in a convent. He sobered. “But when it comes to your safety, I’m not taking any risks. When I say ‘jump,’ you ask, ‘how high?’”

  “Give the man an inch, and he thinks he’s a ruler.” She planted her hand on her hip. “Try jumping off the stratosphere.”

  His lips twitched. “For someone who isn’t mad, you’re doing a better impression than the guy playing Elvis at the Mirage.”

  She hung onto her cool by a fragile hair. “We’re stuck with each other. Let’s leave feelings out of it. Not get personal.”

  “Good tactical plan.” His wry expression matched his tone. “But way too late, babe. The igniter cord was lit on that fuse a long time ago. The blowout can only be contained for so long.”

  Her cell phone rang, sparing her an undignified retort about what he could blow out where. By the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he’d read her mind. How did Liam O’Rourke eclipse her common sense? Make her lose focus of her goals? Erase her hard-won progress and hurtle her a hundred giant steps backward into the past? She snatched the phone from her purse.

  “Kate?” Edging out a burst of static, her brother-in-law Daniel’s anxious voice thrummed over the line. “We need you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. When she’d left earlier, Aubrey had been okay. “Daniel? Has something happened to Aubrey?”

  “She’s…upset…” More static broke up the message. Maybe being in the stairwell was scrambling the signal. “Come to…hospital.”

  “Can you hear me?” Kate shouted. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The crackling increased, and she lost the signal.

  She squelched gnawing anxiety. Someone in the family needed to stay calm, and she’d been elected, by default. “We need to go to the hospital.”

  Liam’s handsome face sharpened with concern. “Is Aubrey okay?”

  “Daniel said she was upset about something. The reception was terrible. She was fine this morning.”

  “Is your whole family living in Vegas, now?”

  “Yes, except me. Dad moved the company headquarters here two years ago. Taxes are cheaper, and the climate goes easy on his arthritis.” For Kate, the climate was easier the farther away she was from her sister’s histrionics, her mother’s criticism and her father’s indifference.

  They jogged up to the main floor, and Liam commanded the dog to heel, which put Murphy behind him, on his left.

  Kate scurried to his other side. In another lifetime, she’d accompanied Pookie Bear, her sister’s toy poodle, to obedience school. Sis had typically flaked out after two lessons, and Mom had made Kate take him. “Don’t dogs heel on the right?”

  “K-9s are trained to go left, to keep clear of the officer’s gun hand.”

  She glanced warily at the lethal black pistol holstered on his thigh. The weapon was a grim reminder that she was in police custody. Liam wouldn’t hesitate to use the gun to protect her. She bit her lip. What if he was the stalker? Or what if he suspected her of terrorism? Would he turn the weapon against her? He might love ’em and leave ’em when it came to women, but Officer O’Rourke was devoted to duty. That devotion could be a very good thing. Or turn out to be a very bad thing.

  It could swing either way.

  The problem was, she didn’t know which way.

  Destiny was in the driver’s seat. The trip was as unpredictable and scary as hurtling around the Arc de Triomp
he in a Parisian taxicab. But no matter how terrifying the ride, she refused to be a helpless passenger.

  They strode outside, and blinding sunlight and suffocating heat slammed her to a standstill. How did people live in a place with the approximate temperature of a pottery kiln? She longed for the serenity of pearly gray skies, misty rain and lush foliage. One reason she’d chosen Paris was the effervescent city’s similar climate to the Pacific Northwest.

  She reeled, and Liam slid his arm around her waist. “Whoa!” He glanced down at her. “Are you all right?”

  She’d die under torture before confessing that she appreciated his support. Or admit she craved contact with him. He smelled scrumptious, as fresh and clean as the rain-washed forests she longed for. She’d never forgotten the toe-curling intensity of his delicious chocolate and whiskey kisses.

  Kate ground her teeth, ramping her headache to agony. Why was she so conflicted about him? One minute, she wondered if he was dangerous, and the next, fantasized about kissing him.

  “I’m fine. Let’s go.” She shook her head and shot a glance over her shoulder. Since the stalker had insinuated his creepy-crawly self into her life, she’d grown extra vigilant. “It must be a hundred and ten degrees.” She fanned her face, which merely wafted scorching air.

  A quirk of his glossy eyebrow stole her breath faster than the overheated atmosphere. How did he do that? He smiled and strode forward. “But it’s a dry heat.”

  She grimaced at the acrid scent of baking asphalt as they hurried around the side of the building to the parking lot. “So is a crematorium.”

  He tugged out a remote key chain. His white Mustang beeped twice as the security system disengaged.

  “Vintage cars don’t usually have alarms.”

  “I installed one. Pays to be careful.”

  “You don’t strike me as the cautious type, Mr. ‘my middle name is Gamble,’ Disarms-bombs-for-a-living.”

  His gaze stroked her face. “Did you know that some cultures believe if you save a person’s life, they belong to you forever?” His gaze sharpened. “I take care of what’s mine.”

  She gulped. His deep declaration made her pulse stumble. There were scarier things than being stalked. She yanked open the door and started to slide inside.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” He tugged her toward him so quickly that she lost her balance. Lightning-fast, his arms wrapped around her, and she ended up plastered to his hard-muscled body.

  He was big and solid and steady in an uncertain world. For an insane moment, she longed to forget the danger. To rest her cheek against the navy cotton covering his wide chest and let him hold her. Sheltered in his arms, she felt safe, cherished. Dazed, she looked up at him. His searing green eyes held hers captive. Hotter and more intense than the Vegas atmosphere, his laser gaze burned away her doubts. Her fears suddenly seemed groundless and silly.

  Night after lonely night, she’d dreamed about Liam’s lean, hard body covering hers. About his green eyes staring into hers with smoldering desire. About his full lips and teasing, talented tongue. And then she’d awakened, alone and hurting.

  She’d had a brief, wondrous taste of him. Just enough to leave her craving more, as badly as a junkie jonesing for a fix.

  His arms tightened, drawing her into an achingly intimate embrace. He lowered his head until nothing more than warm breaths separated them. His full lips parted.

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe.

  The world slowed…teetered on the trembling edge of flight.

  The thick, dark fringe of his lashes swept downward, and her stomach clenched. Anticipation skimmed up her spine.

  Murphy made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough, and Liam tensed, swore, stepped back. “Too hot.”

  Her reply was a cracked whisper. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He flashed an unsteady grin, and gestured at the car, then at her just-above-the-knee black linen sheath and matching sandals. “Sun-broiled leather seats on bare thighs.”

  She cringed. “Oh. Youch.”

  “Exactly.” He released her, leaving her feeling more alone than ever, and rummaged in the trunk. He quickly returned with several ragged towels. “Murphy doesn’t appreciate sitting on hot seats, either. Besides, he drools.” He flipped a towel over the front seat.

  She hesitated. Dog drool?

  Liam smirked. “I do wash them.”

  “Of course you do. Sorry.” She hopped into the ovenlike car.

  Murphy stubbornly sat there, and Liam sighed. “Get in.”

  Murphy didn’t budge. Clearly upset, he barked at Liam, and Kate flinched away. Would he attack?

  Liam rolled his eyes. “He hates sitting in the back.”

  Her brows drew together. “You have got to be kidding. We don’t have time for this.”

  Liam shrugged. “Does it look like he’s kidding?” He made a hand motion at the scowling dog. “We’re in a rush. It’s the back or walk, pal.”

  Grumbling, Murphy climbed into the car and perched on the towel Liam had spread behind the driver’s seat.

  Liam strode around to the driver’s side. He started the engine and flipped the AC to arctic. Before long, they were cool and speeding through afternoon traffic toward the hospital.

  Liam glanced at her. “You thought I was going to kiss you back there.” He smiled. “I almost did.”

  What had changed his mind?

  His smile widened into a naughty grin. “You wanted me to.”

  She battled unease. Those vigilant gambler’s eyes didn’t miss a trick. “Your imagination is only exceeded by your ego.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Deny your feelings?” He gave her a considering look. “‘I’m not scared, I’m not mad, I don’t desire you.’”

  “I wasn’t, I wasn’t and I don’t.”

  “You’re lying.”

  The sharp-eyed cop was far too discerning. She looked over her shoulder again, out the back window. She never lost the jittery feeling of being watched all the time. “The heat is making you hallucinate.”

  A frown eclipsed his sunny smile. “Where’s the warm, vibrant woman I met on St. Patrick’s Day, Just Kate? The emotional, colorful, passionate woman I made love to?”

  “She died,” she said flatly.

  Sorrow laced his low voice. “What happened to you during the past few years, sweetheart?”

  “I grew up. Faced reality. Packed away childish dreams.”

  He shook his head. “Dreams are what keep your soul alive. What keep you going when tragedy and heartbreak bring the world crashing down around you.”

  The words spilled out before she could stop them. “What would you know about heartbreak? About tragedy? You smile, quirk a beautiful brow, toss off a clever quip, and the world bows at your feet.” Though she tried, she couldn’t keep bitterness from her voice. “You’ve probably been handed everything you wanted since the moment you blinked open those bewitching green eyes.”

  He blasted through a yellow light, and went silent.

  Murphy whined and nuzzled Liam’s neck, and he reached back to scratch the dog’s ears. Liam’s expression was carefully neutral, but his rigid posture said she’d hurt him. Badly. How did Murphy know Liam was upset?

  “You honestly think I’m that shallow?”

  Kate drew a trembling breath. She was less sensitive than the dog. Ridiculous. Animals didn’t understand human emotions. Murphy just wanted to get in the front. She cradled her aching head in her palms. “I apologize. That wasn’t fair. Because I’ve had a rotten day doesn’t give me the right to lash out at you.”

  “I’m not just spouting platitudes. I’ve slamdanced with adversity.” Liam swerved around a slow moving Cadillac. “I told you that Pop died a year after we finished rebuilding the car. What I didn’t tell you was that he was murdered. In our house, during a home invasion robbery.”

  Shock and horror jerked her upright. “I’
m so sorry.”

  His agonized glance touched her briefly. “I was in my second year at U of O, and my youngest brother Grady was a high school senior. The family was hyped over Grady’s soccer game…state championships. Pop had the flu, and had to stay home. He was really torqued about missing the game.”

  She touched his forearm, warm steel beneath her palm. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “It’s okay. Maybe…I need to say it as much as you need to hear it. It’s not something I talk about.” Grief sharpened his profile. “Mom and Pop went to our games and school events when they could, and Pop was a Boy Scout leader.”

  Honored that he trusted her with something so painfully personal, she smiled gently. “You were a Boy Scout? Go figure.”

  “All of us were.” He offered her a ghost of his ebullient grin. “Anyway, Grady’s team won, and he got Most Valuable Player. Aidan, Con and I shoulder carried him into the house. Mom followed with his trophy. We were singing a goofy, semirisqué cheer at the top of our lungs.” He hung a sharp left. “It didn’t register that the house had been tossed. Stuff was gone.”

  “I’m not very close to my family,” she whispered. “But I can’t imagine anything more horrible.”

  “There’s nothing worse than the fear that someone you love has been hurt. Mom rushed upstairs to the bedroom. Grady and Con ran to the kitchen. I was yelling for Pop, and then I…I stopped calling. My gut felt wrong.”

  She nodded. “I know that feeling.” She’d experienced the awful sensation once before, and been proven horribly right.

  “Aidan and I barreled into the family room.” He shuddered. “And I…I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Blood was spattered everywhere. My heart just…exploded.” His voice went hoarse. “The murder had happened in there. Even sick and weak, Pop had fought to the bitter end.”