Dangerous (8 page)

He was just thinking that Camille was more like Justus than him when she came out of the building. He revved the engine and pulled the car out of its slot, stopping just as she reached the curb.

She threw herself into the passenger seat without saying a word. Her expression was telling, though. She was anything but happy.

“Rodriguez wouldn't get the search warrant?”

“No, he did. Rather he had Eli Jackson handle it. Jackson worked with me on the task force. Now he's heading it.”

“And?”

“The paperwork was just sent over to Judge Andrew Garrison, who I hope will rubber stamp it the moment he reads it.”

“What do we do in the meantime?”

“Run home long enough to let Max out.”

“You're just going to leave? Not follow the team back to Connect Chicago?”

“I don't want Rodriguez to know Jackson is feeding me info. He doesn't need trouble, too. The moment he faxed the paperwork to the judge, Jackson texted me and said he'd let me know when they'd done the search and he had something.”

“And you're sure he will?”

She nodded. “When he gets the search warrant, he'll take a couple of uniforms to find the info, but they'll be in a squad. He'll be in his own vehicle, so when he texts me, no one will be any wiser. In the meantime, we might as well do something productive.”

Concentrating on the dog would destress her for a little while anyway, Drago thought.

“Okay.” Pulling out of the lot, he just hoped she wasn't in for a disappointment from this Jackson, but he was also hoping for the best. Surely she knew the people she worked with and what they would and would not do for her. Obviously Jackson had a connection with Camille, or he would have frozen her out. “Home it is, then.”

Camille didn't live far from her office, less than a ten-minute drive north. Her bungalow was half a block east of the river. He parked at the curb for a quick getaway once they got word. She ran in to get Max, who blasted his way out the front door. On his leash, the excited dog didn't know whether to run circles around her or to find a tree. He even gave Drago a sniff and a tail thump. That piece of bacon he'd given the dog that morning had obviously won him over.

In turn, Drago ruffled the dog's ears. “Hey, boy, wanna go for a
walk
?”

Max barked and tore off in the direction of the river, forcing Camille into running until she was able to get him under control and slow down to a fast stroll.

“Thanks,” she muttered over her shoulder.

Drago grinned at her. “Anytime. You needed something to loosen you up.”

She let the dog lead them down to the riverbank area, grown over with plantings, every minute or so checking her cell for a text that didn't come.

Maybe her stress wasn't as relieved as Drago thought it would be. “Give him some time.”

“I'm not rushing Max.”

“I meant Jackson.”

“Oh.”

“You said he'd update you, so he will, right?”

“Right.”

“Then give him enough time to get what he needs before you start worrying.” He figured using the word “obsessing” might insult her.

She shoved her cell into her pants pocket.

They walked for a few minutes, letting Max explore on a long leash until he got tired of smelling every tree and rock and flower and came to them, forcing himself between them as they headed back for the house.

Drago said, “About the dog…”

“What about him?”

“We can't keep doing this while we're trying to find the girl. Coming back to walk and feed him multiple times a day. Do you have anyone who can take care of him for a day or two?”

He hoped to God they would find the girl quicker than that, but with no lead yet, all he had was hope.

“Yeah, well, I kinda used up my credit with my neighbors.” She gave the house next door a sad look as they passed it. “And my parents are more than thirty miles away.”

“Siblings?” He didn't even know if she had any.

“My sister, Flora, is in New York temporarily.”

“Friends?”

“Other cops.”

Who were probably on the task force she formerly headed.

He tried again. “Your vet?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But she didn't look so sure. Her brow was furrowed and her lush mouth was turned down in a frown.

“I hope he can wait long enough for you to come home if we get on a hot trail.”

“I get your point. It'll have to be tomorrow, though. Vet's already closed for the day.”

Stopping on the steps to her house, she pulled out her cell and shook her head. Then texted something at rapid speed. She stared a hole through the cell but no returning ding.

“Jackson is probably in the midst of the search now.”

Sighing, she slid the cell back into her pocket and opened the door.

Max leaped into the house and headed straight for the kitchen. She followed the dog and gave him food and fresh water. Then went back into the living room, where Drago was staring out the window. A glance at her told him the walk hadn't relaxed her at all. Her muscles were taut with tension. He could read anxiety in her expression.

Trying to get her to think about something else for a while, he said, “That text could come through at any time. Or not. I have some other ideas to track this bastard, but that means leaving, not knowing when we'll be back. Why so reluctant to find a place to keep Max so we can keep full focus on the case?”

She shrugged. “I know I'm a cop, but now I don't even have my Glock to protect me. Rodriguez made me turn it in along with my star. Besides, living alone in a house, I feel better having a set of ears that can hear any strange noises better than mine can.”

That she admitted to some fear of living alone, if in a roundabout way, surprised him. It also surprised him that she wasn't wearing a backup piece. “You won't have to worry about strange noises. My hearing is spot on.”

She gaped at him, then said, “Who invited you to stay?”

“Don't worry, I can fit on the couch.” The last place he wanted to spend the night. He gave it a good look, then crooked an eyebrow at her. “Unless you want me in your bed, of course.”

“You must think you're irresistible!”

He took a step closer. “Am I?” Though he knew starting up with her was the last thing he should want, he didn't always make wise choices.

She shoved a hand on his chest. “Well, why don't you go find a woman who thinks so!”

“Pretty sure I already have.”

He slid a hand along the one planted in the middle of his chest, followed it upward—slowly, oh so slowly—to her elbow. She had the opportunity to pull away. To shove him from her. To tell him to go to hell.

She looked like she wanted to say it.

She looked like she wanted to fuck him.

He'd take the second.

Wrapping his fingers around her upper arm, he urged her closer. Slowly. Never forcing her. Never taking his eyes from hers. He noted the shade of panic in her irises. The deeper desire in her pupils. He was so close he could climb inside her mind through those gorgeous eyes. He waited for her to stop him, but only for a second. Then he kissed her, pushing her up against the wall next to the windows the way he had in that hotel room…

Lost in the kiss, he makes it last next to forever. He wants her more than anything. His body is ready for hers. But is she ready for
him
?

He pulls back so he can see into her beautiful green eyes. He cups her cheek and rubs a thumb along her soft skin. “Are you sure about this?”

She blinks at him. Uncertainty flashes through her expression.

Fighting disappoint
ment, he says, “It's not too late to change your mind.” Though her changing her mind might undo him.

Then she asks, “Are
you
ready for this?”

“Hell, yes!”

“Then kiss me…”

He sucked her tongue into his mouth.

Nipped her jaw.

Laved her ear.

Bit her neck.

And her body was vibrating with renewed life.

“You're remembering, aren't you?” he murmured. “That first day in the hotel room.”

He remembered…

She pulses against him. Rubs her breasts over his chest. Rotates her hips until she finds his heat. Silently uses her body to beg for it. To demand it.

He pulls her hand from where it still presses against his chest. “Touch me.”

“Show me.”

He slides her hand down his stomach. His hardened flesh jumps at her when she finds him through his jeans.

“Is that what you want?” she whispers.

“I want you in ways you couldn't imagine.”

She moans and he thinks he might never breathe again as he pushes himself against her clever fingers.

For three days, Camille had made him forget everything but her. He was enticed by her body…her smile…her take-charge personalit
y…her softness. For three days, she'd made him feel like he was her world.

Remembering was all he'd had while he'd been incarcerated.

Camille was doing it to him again. His heart was beating so hard that he could feel his pulse race as his dick hardened. She had him the second she slid her fingers along the length of his flesh. He forced distractions on himself so he wouldn't come without her. His mind went to the dog. Max. Where was he? Why wasn't the dog here, trying to join them in play? Not that he was about to actually look around to find the dog and take his attention off the woman who had him in hand.

Drago didn't want her to get him off like this. He slipped his hand over hers and held her wrist. “Not like that. Not now.” He brushed his mouth over hers and trailed his lips over her cheek to whisper in her ear. “I want to fill you deep and sweet.” He wanted to make her come so hard that she would make that sexy guttural sound that reminded him of weeping.

She relaxed and let him take the lead. But he'd barely pulled her shirt free from her pants when a noise from her pocket froze them as they were.

A text had just come through.

Drago tried to keep his disappointment in check as he stepped back to give them both room to recover. What the hell had he been thinking when he started this? It seemed he had no will around her.

Hand trembling, Camille pulled her cell phone from her pocket and poked the screen to get her message. Her eyes widened as she read and then met his.

“Got him!”

The police vehicles were already at the curb of a three-story multiunit brick apartment building by the time they arrived at the address Jackson had texted her. The man who called himself Angel on the Internet was really Paul Fox. As Drago drove, she'd already looked for it in the CPD database on her cell phone but got nothing on the man.

The instant Drago stopped the car, Camille reached for the door handle as the detective and two uniformed officers approached the front entry. One of the men was tall and whipcord thin, the other average height and broad.

Drago grabbed her arm. “And where do you think you're going? You're not on the case, remember? Jackson is simply showing you respect by keeping you in the loop.”

She knew he was correct, but it didn't make her want to stay put. Still, she held herself in check and didn't try to leave the car. Instead, she moved away from the door and was relieved when he let go of her arm.

“I can't stand it.”

And she didn't just mean her need to know what was going on. What was wrong with her that she couldn't shut off her hormones permanently around Drago Nance? Even now, longing swept through her. If Jackson's text hadn't come through when it had, she feared they would be in bed now. Or on the floor. Or on the kitchen table. She couldn't turn off her erotic impulses. Nor her imagination. Even now, with so much riding on this lead panning out, she was aware of how close Drago was, especially when he reached under the seat, his shoulder brushing her knee. She shivered and caught her breath.

“Give me a second and you'll be informed,” he said, pulling something free.

She saw it was a sound amplifier. He plugged it into the dash and the car's speakers and aimed the microphone at the building just as the entrance door creaked open. But rather than a man answering, a skinny woman with frizzed graying hair and Coke-bottle glasses stood there, looking indignant at the interruption.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“Detective Jackson, Chicago Police.”
He showed her his star and ID.
“We're looking for Paul Fox.”

“Then why'd you buzz me?”

“You live in apartment 2B?”

“Yeah, but my name is Minny Thomas, just like it says there.”
She pointed to the panel with the doorbells.
“I don't know any Paul Fox.”

“She's got to be lying,” Camille said.

“Maybe.”

“How long have you been living here?”
Jackson asked the woman.

“A coupla months. You wanna know about the former tenant, ask the owner over at Welby Realty on Madison.”

“We'll do that. But the Internet company is still billing your address. Are you using the Internet connection?”

“Ain't got no use for a computer. No money, neither.”

“Can we come up and take a look in your apartment?”

“What do you think I have stashed up there? I ain't got no money or drugs or nothin'! All right, all right—come on up. Then you can get outta my hair.”

Jackson had the taller officer wait outside and followed the woman into the building with the other officer. Other than the mike picking up street sounds, the speakers went silent.

“Great.” Camille felt as if her chest was encased in a vise. “One way or the other, looks like it's a false lead.”

“Give them some time to see what's what.”

“The clock is ticking.” She glanced at the digital on the dash. “It's been twenty-four hours.”

Drago reached over and clasped her hand. “We'll find her in time.”

Did he really believe that or was he just trying to keep her calm? Whichever, she clung to his hand like it was a lifeline, which maybe it was. Because if Angel killed again, she didn't know how she would ever forgive herself.

They sat in silence. Waiting. The seemingly relentless attraction between them at bay for the moment. Camille hoping…pra
ying…that Jackson would find something to lead them to Angel before he killed the girl. She had to believe that he was following a pattern at least in his keeping Sandy alive the way he had the last two victims. They had to rescue her.

Camille couldn't bear to have another kid die because of her. Emily already haunted her.

Then Drago said, “Wait, I see something.”

Camille looked to the building and spotted Jackson and the uniformed officer through the glass door. But they didn't open it, instead headed in the other direction. The other officer waiting outside watched but stayed where he was.

“What are they doing?”

Drago didn't answer, just gave her hand another squeeze. It seemed like forever before the two men came back from wherever they'd gone and stepped out of the building.

“So, what's going on?”
the waiting officer asked.

“The Internet connection was set up in a closet with a window to the back side of the building,”
the other uniform said.
“And it's connected to an Ethernet cable running down the back of the building to a basement window.”

“No shit!”

“Guess what the cable is connected to in a storage bin in the basement?”
Jackson asked.

“A computer?”

“A router. Bastard doesn't even have to go inside to use it. He can sit out here on the street in his car and pick up a signal. You two stay here, but get the squad down the street, just in case our suspect shows up. I don't want you to alert him. I'll call Rodriguez to get undercover surveillance. And I'm headed for Welby Realty to see what anyone there knows about this Paul Fox. Maybe they have some Intel on him that'll help.”

“Like a description,”
one of the officers said.

“From your lips…”

Jackson took off and the uniforms headed for the squad.

“Should we follow him?” Drago asked.

Camille's phone dinged. “Let's see.”

She quickly read the text aloud: “Will keep you informed. Go home, get sleep.”

“That's a good idea.”

Was he kidding? “How do you propose I sleep? Stress keeps me awake.” The reason she'd been up most of the night before.

“I can think of ways to make you relax.”

She squeezed her knees together. Instant reaction to that subtle sexy tone he used on her. “I'll bet you can.” Not that she was going to let him. “What I need is coffee, possibly an infusion injected straight into my veins.” Realizing Drago was on his way somewhere, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“I'm taking you back to the office so you can drive your own car home. I assume you drove.”

“I did. My car is parked on Ravenswood.” She had to get it sometime, but she hadn't planned on going home. “There has to be something we can do.”

“There's something
I
can do, but I'm doing it alone.”

“You're working for
me
, remember.” She gave him an intent look that rolled off him.

“Technically, I'm working for my brother. Justus would be really pissed off if I took you with me.”

“Pissed off? Where are you going?”

“To get some outside help. Something I have to do alone.”

Now her brain was racing with questions, but there was no talking to him about it. He had his mind set and that was that. She argued and he merely sank into a determined silence as he drove.

An irritated Camille gritted her teeth together. Let him think what he wanted. But she was not about to be left behind.

By the time he pulled up in front of his office behind her car, the sun had set and dusk had settled over the neighborhood. Good. Maybe she could use the shadows to her advantage, play a cat-and-mouse game and follow him. Opening the passenger door, she stifled a yawn that unfortunately was all too real. Her adrenaline had crashed and she was actually fighting to stay focused.

Drago growled at her. “Go home and get some sleep while you can.”

She avoided answering directly. “Call me the minute you know anything.”

“That might be awhile. And if Jackson contacts you, I want to know what he found out.”

“Absolutely.”

She slammed the passenger door and staggered toward her own car as if she could hardly move, waiting only until she heard Drago take off before hurrying to get in and start the engine. She was after him in a minute, driving double time to catch up. She thought she'd lost him until she got to a main artery and saw the black Trans Am ahead. Slowing down, she stayed back far enough and let another vehicle between them so he wouldn't realize she was following him. He kept to the main streets, which was good for her. She kept swerving behind SUVs and vans and trucks so that he wouldn't spot her.

If only her cell would ring. Or even ding. If only Jackson would call or text to tell her he had something substantive in tracking down Angel. But he hadn't had enough time to do anything yet, and her cell remained silent as they drove west and then south.

Soon they were in less agreeable surroundings, and to add to her discomfort, dark was falling fast. Humboldt Park was gang territory. Well, much of the city was. But even though some areas of the neighborhood were in the process of gentrifica
tion, Humboldt Park had a reputation for Puerto Rican gangs and drug trafficking and drive-bys and innocent kids and old people getting shot because they weren't fast enough or aware enough to get out of the way. And Drago was taking a route straight through the park itself. It's not like she hadn't done her time here, even recently considering Angel's first victim had been found in the lagoon area in the middle of the park, but she'd always been armed before.

Don't let Sandy be the next murder victim!

Suddenly she realized she couldn't see the Trans Am. She'd let her mind wander for just a minute and now the sports car had disappeared!

Panicked, she picked up speed, darting her gaze between the vehicles ahead. And then she saw it as Drago turned west again, heading out into the neighborhood. She sped up and made that corner in record time. She followed him onto a side street, and he was nearly a block ahead and there was nothing between them. Then he slid the car to the curb and parked. He was out of the vehicle in a shot, holding some kind of package in hand. She tapped her brakes to slow. They were in a family neighborhood, a mix of bungalows and 2-flats and 3-flats. A big building down at the next corner. But Drago didn't go to any of them.

Instead, he stopped in front of a motorcycle parked beneath a streetlamp.

She stayed in a darkened area, pulled to the curb, and cut her car lights and engine just as he looked over his shoulder. Apparently he didn't recognize her car, because he raised that package that she now realized was really a helmet. He slid it in place over his head before mounting his bike.

What in the world was he doing? He'd said he was going to see someone…that Justus would be pissed if he took her with him. That meant somewhere or someone dangerous. Maybe both. This is what he was doing to help her?

And why on a motorcycle?

How was she supposed to trust him when he wouldn't tell her his plans? What was he into? Knowing his past history didn't reassure her. It made her worry about the girl's fate even more.

When he zoomed out of his parking spot, she started her engine and pulled into the street without turning on her lights, going more than a block and letting him get some distance before doing so. If he spotted a car behind him now, he wouldn't realize she'd been following him from where he'd left the Trans Am.

He kept to side streets for a while, which made her nervous that he would wonder why the car behind him didn't turn off. But then he came to the next busy street and went back north. And she did likewise a moment later, still able to see him though several cars now separated them. A few minutes later he got onto Grand Avenue, an angled street. She followed. A short way up, he slowed and headed into a parking lot. A quarter block behind him, Camille tensed. This was it, then, whatever
it
was. She drove by slowly. Couldn't miss that the parking lot held not only several cars, but even more motorcycles.