A Killing Tide (26 page)

Gary's expression was speculative. "Even if you're right, it doesn't help us unless you can figure out who's been checking you out."

Michael nodded. "I've got a call in to a buddy of mine back East. I should hear back from him in the morning. Who told you about me?"

"Bjorn." Gary frowned. "But he could've heard it from any number of people."

Michael shrugged. "I'll find out, sooner or later. In the meantime, I won't have Kaz at risk because you get off playing the vigilante. You need to turn yourself in, tell the cops everything you know."

Gary set aside his empty plate. "If I do that, I'm as good as dead."

"I can get you protective custody," Michael insisted.

Gary shook his head. "That won't stop them."

Kaz placed a hand on his knee. "At least tell us who's involved. Give us something to go on."

"No." Gary got up and started pacing. "I'm close. I only need one more day to put it all together."

"Is Karl Svensen involved?"

Gary rounded on her. "You stay away from Svensen and his crews. They don't have any loyalty to us, and they won't lift a finger to help you."

"So that's what the fight was about six months ago, and why Svensen never pressed charges. Ken had found out what Karl was doing, and Karl threatened him. You stepped in to protect Ken."

"I didn't know what was going on, but yeah. Svensen took a swing at Ken, and I stopped him. At the time, it surprised the hell out of me when he refused to press charges." Gary growled in frustration. "Dammit, Kaz, haven't you heard anything I've said? They'll kill you without even flinching."

"Who else is in on it?" Michael demanded. "Either tell us what you know, or I call the cops now. Jackson is right outside."

Gary abruptly sighed and sat down. "I'll talk if you promise to take Kaz out of the equation."

"Done."

"Hey!" They both ignored her.

"They're using the Redemption as their meeting place," Gary told Michael. "The back room. And yes, before you ask," he said to Kaz, "Steve is in on it. I don't know what they have on him, something that happened around the time of his divorce. He's turning a blind eye to the meetings. He could finger every damn one of them if he wanted, but I can't get him to talk. I searched Svensen's boat, but I didn't find anything, other than some notations in the ship's log that could've been drop-off points."

He shook his head. "Bjorn's in the clear, but I think he knows what's going on. If he does, he's not saying, and I don't blame him. He's got his kids to think about. The supplier is someone off shore, probably a Triad offshoot. The buyer's right here in Astoria. Most of the drugs are going up-river, only a small amount is staying here in town."

"Who's the buyer?" Michael asked.

"No one you can do anything about. He's set up so well no one can touch him—at least, so far, but Jacobsen and I are planning to follow Karl and observe the hand-off, then take the information to the right people. And that's all I'll tell you. Now will you please get Kaz the hell out of town? I can't finish this unless I know she's safe." He pinned Michael with a hard glare. "If you're sleeping with her, the least you can do is take care of her."

"You're jumping to the wrong—" Kaz started, but Michael cut her off.

"My intentions are honorable," he said evenly. "And I resent the implication that I would use her in any way."

"You moved in awfully fast after I split. I'm not happy about that."

"Get used to it," Michael suggested. "I'm not willing to let her get hurt again."

Gary hesitated, then nodded. "Fair enough. But if you've taken advantage of her in any way—"

"Oh, for God's sake," Kaz exploded. "Will you two listen to each other? You sound like we're living in Regency England. I've been taking care of myself for a long time. If someone doesn't recognize that, and damn quickly, I'll throw you both out of the house."

The men exchanged a "see what I have to put up with" look.

Gary stood and handed Kaz his empty mug. "Twenty-four hours, that's all I need." His expression turned wry. "At least try to keep her out of my way during that time."

Michael nodded, then added, "I still think you should go to the cops."

"Not yet."

#

Michael closed the back door and leaned against it, watching her clean up the dishes with an expression she couldn't fathom. Unaccountably nervous, she grabbed the dish towel and dried off the counter around the sink.

He pushed away from the door, walking slowly toward her. She backed up, saying the first thing that came to mind. "I can't believe you two, thinking you can make a plan to 'take care of me' without even asking me what I want."

He shrugged, but kept coming toward her. "We know what's best in this situation—you don't."

"Bullshit." She backed up another step, her retreat abruptly stopped by the edge of the counter. Lifting her chin, she said, "I make the decisions concerning my life."

"Not this time." He came to a stop in front of her and looked down at her, his silvery gaze heated. "Quit using the issue of your independence to dodge the real issue here."

She swallowed. "What real issue?"

"Whether I'm taking you back upstairs."

In an instant, she went cold, then hot. She could think of a thousand reasons why this wasn't a good idea. They had a killer closing in, maybe even waiting nearby for the perfect moment to strike. Chuck was in the hospital, in critical condition. And Gary was out there somewhere, laying a trap, taking God knew what kind of risks.

Michael took one more step, invading her personal space. Her mind blanked. All she could think about was the strength and heat of his body, and how much she wanted to explore it. It was pure insanity, but she couldn't seem to make herself care.

Leaning over, he braced his hands on either side of her. His face was only inches from hers, his expression rigid from tension. "Am I?"

"Are you what?" she breathed.

"Taking you back upstairs."

"I—"

He captured her lips, cutting off any protest, however weak, that she would have uttered. His kiss burned through her remaining resistance, its fire streaking through her, all the way down to her toes, curling them. Her hands fisted in the soft wool of his sweater, her mouth softened and molded itself to his.

Stepping back, he left her wanting more, much more. They were both breathing hard.

"Kaz." He took her hands in his. "I want more than this one night."

It was crazy, what he was proposing. She lived in San Francisco and ran a consulting firm. He was a firefighter who'd seen unimaginable violence and human evil, who might have to arrest her brother. They had almost nothing in common. And yet, it felt so right.

She didn't make decisions lightly, but this one seemed so natural, so easy. She lifted her chin and looked him square in the eye. "All right."

He let out a slow breath, smiling a little for the first time. But she could still sense a hesitation in him. "Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked softly, running his hand lightly over her bruised face.

She rose on her toes and linked her arms around his neck. "Make love to me, Michael."

~~~~

Chapter 22

Michael bent and picked her up, carrying her upstairs. He laid her down gently in the center of the bed, taking care with her injuries. The small lamp on her bedside table was still on, casting a soft glow throughout the room. He made no move to turn it off.

He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a broad, muscular chest sprinkled lightly with dark hair narrowing to a vee at his waist. Her fingers gripped the bed covers, itching to run her hands over those hard planes and ridges of muscles. Her breath hitched as his hands moved to his jeans, unbuttoning them.

He was magnificent—all muscle and sinew, all hard lines of masculine elegance. She couldn't breathe.

He smiled, then placed one knee on the edge of the mattress and leaned over her, tugging the football jersey over her head and tossing it onto the floor. He lay down, the bed dipping under his weight.

Seemingly content to just look at her, he took his time, driving her wild by doing nothing more than touching every part of her body with his incredible eyes. No one had ever done that, just looked at her as if he she looked exactly the way he wanted her to, as if he wanted to experience the anticipation of what would come next.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

She trembled, and reached out to lay her palm against his chest.

He caught her hand in his, kissing her palm in a way that made her shiver. "Let me."

The shadows of the darkened room closed around them intimately. He drew her closer, warming her with the entire length of his body. Reaching up to smooth her hair, he finger-combed the silky blond strands so that they flowed over her shoulder and down over her right breast. His fingers lingered there for a long moment, his touch unbearably light and teasing. Heat built, and she arched involuntarily into his touch, but his hand moved on.

Down, over the slight swell of her lower stomach to the edge of her panties, never even hesitating as he slid them off, dropping them on the floor beside the bed. Then to the sensitized insides of her trembling thighs. His fingers trailed fire, all the way up to her core.

He cupped her. She moaned aloud, dampening his hand. His gaze flew to hers, the silver of his eyes darkening to a stormy gray.

"Michael—" she panted, fighting against the building pressure, surging against his hand to try to ease the ache. She was ready, so fast it almost frightened her.

"Shhhh." He soothed her, leaning down to kiss her softly, then with more insistence, taking her with his tongue, mimicking the movements of his hand as he stroked her, explored her.

Her hips bucked off the bed. When she thought she couldn't take any more, he slid two large fingers all the way into her, finding the bundle of nerves and rubbing rhythmically.

The climax hit her hard, bowing her body, scaring her in its intensity. She tried to pull away, but he held her gently, stroking her through it. Waves roiled through her, great rushes of heat, starbursts of pleasure. He wrung every last spasm out of her, then brought her slowly, gently back down to earth. She collapsed against the tangled bedcovers, panting.

He leaned down and kissed her lower belly, then moved up to her breast. Taking it into his mouth, he tugged on it softly with his teeth, nipping, and she felt the need start to build all over again. She gasped and sobbed.

He laughed softly. Moving away for a moment to deal with protection, he slid over her, settling heavily between her thighs.

The delicious weight of him galvanized her and she reared up, hooking her hands around his neck and pulling his mouth down to hers. Their hearts beat crazily against each other, but in unison.

He fought the urge to rush, to possess. She tasted as he'd imagined she would, only better. She felt as he'd imagined as he settled over her, all soft and yielding, only better. He wanted her at such a gut-wrenching level that he was afraid to let himself go, afraid he'd just go all caveman and take and take, consuming her until there was nothing left.

Holding onto his control by a thread, he slipped inside her, letting her adjust to him. He saw her eyes widen with shock, their soft brown glazing over with pleasure. She murmured against his lips, tightening her hold on him, cradling him.

He was big, bigger than she realized. For a moment, she wasn't sure she could take all of him, and she pulled back slightly, but his grip on her kept her tightened, allowing her no retreat. He withdrew a little, then surged forward again, seating himself deep inside, touching the core of her, making her arch mindlessly.

After a long moment, he started moving. Pulling back, then pushing, long, slow, deep strokes that drove her wild. She'd never known a man to take such care, to give so generously. She watched his control slip away in his fierce gaze as he settled into a strong, powerful rhythm that rekindled a driving need deep inside her, taking over her very self, flinging her into a world she'd never known, never even had a glimpse of.

Her vision grayed, every cell in her body building toward an explosion more powerful than the last one. Her pulse galloping and roaring in her ears, she dimly heard his hoarse calling of her name, then his long moan. Then she peaked and exploded, crying out as, arms wrapped around each other, they slid down through crashing waves of pleasure.

He settled heavily on top of her, his chest heaving. For several long moments, Kaz lay there, reveling in the feel of him covering every inch of her, listening to his heart as its beat eventually slowed in concert with hers.

She rubbed her face against his shoulder, inhaling the damp, musky, already familiar scent of him. Never before had she felt this connection, either during or after sex. She'd surrendered a part of herself that she hadn't even known existed, that had been lying dormant all these years, waiting for the right man to come along.

Lying there in the quiet of the pre-dawn, she listened to the sound of Michael breathing, and she worried. About what they'd experienced, about how either of them could ever casually walk away from it, about how much she already was in love with him. Then she thought about Gary and where he was right now, while she was lying there, guilty in her sated pleasure.