True Lies (14 page)

She blinked, but her gaze remained steady. “Good. I'm glad you don’t like me. I've seen how you treat your friends. And Primeau’s caveman approach to women makes Prendergast seem like Don Juan, sweet thing.”

Recklessly he grasped her arms and pulled her closer. “Do you prefer weak men? Do you want a man you can feel sorry for, someone who doesn’t challenge you or have needs of his own?”

“I don’t want anyone,” she said breathlessly. “Especially you.”

“You liked Prendergast. That was me, Emma. My lips that kissed you, my tongue that tasted your sweetness.”

“No. It was a lie. Everything you did was a lie.”

“Not everything.” He slid his arms around her back and drew her against his body. His brain shouted a warning, but a different, more primitive imperative directed his actions. “This is me.” He splayed his fingers over her bottom, pressed her closer, and tilted his hips. “And this is me. I'm a cop, but I'm also a man.”

She trembled. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

She brought her hands between them and pushed at his chest. “You used me.”

“I know that, too. And I'm not finished with you.” He lifted her higher and felt her fingers dig into his shoulders. “This thing between us has nothing to do with my job. I've wanted you since I first saw you striding across the hill toward me. It’s sex, Emma. That’s all. I don’t have to like you to want you.”

“You disgust me.”

“And you're a liar.” Tightening his hold, he crushed her to his chest. Through the barrier of her linen suit he could feel the firm, warm curves of her breasts. Each ragged breath she took forced her nearer, and he knew her trembling wasn’t only from anger.

“I told you I’d cooperate. You don’t need to put on this performance of macho passion. Or are you hoping to earn some kind of commendation for deeds above and beyond the call of duty?”

“Did you like the way Prendergast kissed you, Emma?”

“No.”

“Liar. You didn’t want to stop. You liked the way our mouths fit together, didn’t you? And you tried to touch me. Well, go ahead and touch me. Find out exactly what I was hiding under the baggy clothes.”

She let go of his shoulders and arched backward, but he wouldn’t release his hold. Sudden, savage heat raged from the place where their lower bodies molded together and her lips parted on a wordless gasp.

“You asked whether I had a sore back from having to disguise myself,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “My back wasn’t the only thing that ached by the end of the day.”

Roiling, conflicting emotions glittered in the depths of her blue eyes. “You were only playing a role, you were only pretending.”

He wished to God that’s all he’d been doing, but she had gotten to him. It had been five years since anyone had done that, and of all people, it had to be Emma. He braced his legs apart and leaned over her, bringing his face to hers. “It’s a hell of a situation, isn’t it? I want you, and from what I can feel, you want me. But we're on opposite sides. We're adversaries. We both detest what the other stands for.”

Her hair swung behind her as she locked her hands around his neck for balance. “You're right about the detesting part.”

“And about the wanting.”

Her body quivered. She didn’t need to answer aloud.

With a fierceness that would have appalled him if he’d been thinking straight, Bruce brought his mouth down on hers. The kiss was swift and hard and possessive, nothing like the tender connection they’d shared before. He kept his eyes open, watching the fury that blurred her gaze, knowing his own control was on the verge of snapping.

And then she surprised him. Again. As she had always managed to. Her grip on his neck tightened, her nails pressed sharply into his skin and she retaliated with a response as fierce as his. She took without giving, using her lips and her teeth to wring every ounce of sensation from the place where their bodies joined. It was a kiss filled with carnality but no feeling, heat but no warmth.

He pulled back, focusing on the tense, delicate features that had haunted him for a week, feeling his heart pound and his lungs scream for air. What had he hoped to prove by that kiss? He already knew he wanted her. He already knew he couldn’t have her.

“You bastard,” she whispered. She slipped from his loosened embrace and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Curling her fingers into a fist, she drew back her arm.

He saw the blow coming. For a split second he considered letting her strike him—it was what he deserved. Yet instinct took over and he dodged easily.

She backed away. “Get out.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you touching me, I don’t want you anywhere near me. Get out of my house. Get off my property.”

“Not yet.”

“We have our deal. I'm not going to tell Harvey or McQuaig anything about you, so there’s no reason for you to stay.”

Bruce used every last reserve of inner strength to shore up his crumbling self-control. The job, he reminded himself. It was the job that was his priority here, not the woman. “The reason I have to stay is simple, Emma. I don’t trust you. I made a mistake once with you, and I can’t afford to make another. Until this case is wrapped up, we're stuck with each other. That’s why I'm staying.”

“Trust is another word that sounds strange coming from you. How do I know that you'll give me what I asked for if I cooperate?”

“If you don’t cooperate, I'll haul you in right now for conspiracy and take my chances that your friends will find someone else to bring in a shipment for Primeau.”

The angry flush drained from her cheeks. “No.”

“Then it seems as if you don’t have a choice.”

“So you've made me an offer I can’t refuse.”

Echoes of the conscience pangs that had led him into this predicament surfaced in Bruce’s mind, but he tamped them down firmly. Emma wasn’t innocent. She had willingly admitted her part in this ring. Besides, it wasn’t his conscience that was bothering him, it was his rampaging libido. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face. “I was out of line a minute ago. It won’t happen again.”

“Damn right.”

“I'll sleep out here on the couch.”

“Don’t bother trying to lock me into my room, Mr. Policeman. The bedroom door has a bolt on the inside, and I fully intend to use it.”

An apology was there, trying to get out, but he refused to speak it aloud. He wasn’t sorry that he’d held her and kissed her. He’d reveled in every second of their angry embrace. He was sorry that they’d stopped, and he was sorry he couldn’t sweep her back into his arms and carry her to that big four-poster with the comfortable-looking mattress and feel the prick of her nails on his skin and the sting of her teeth on his lips and her potent, heady taste on his tongue. He was sorry he couldn’t rip off her civilized clothes and feast on her ripe, feminine curves and let the passion of their bodies whirl them to a place where who and what they were didn’t matter and...

Bruce cursed low and long under his breath and turned away. “Bolt the damn door, Emma. And do it quick.”

Chapter 8

A
flock of gulls wheeled along the edge of the mirror-calm lake, piercing the air with their strident cries. Although not a single cloud shadowed the brilliance of the sky, the morning held the breathless, sultry expectancy of an impending storm. According to the latest forecast, the warm front that had passed through the day before had brought a stable high pressure zone, and no rain was predicted until the end of the week, so Emma knew that the storm she sensed gathering had nothing to do with the weather.

The vinegary scent of epoxy drifted from the can that rested on the edge of the dock. Emma shifted her position on the pontoon and stretched to reach it.

“What are you doing down there?”

At the deep voice she jerked. Grabbing on to a strut for balance, she twisted to glance over her shoulder. Bruce was wearing Prendergast’s sneakers, but his silent walk could have been pure Primeau. The voice was somewhere in between, though. Maybe it was his real one, if she could trust anything about him to be real.

“I want to seal the holes where the rivets were sheared off,” she replied. “Pass me that can.”

He squatted down to hand it to her, then straightened up and studied the Cessna. “Is there anything else you need to do to ready the plane?”

Her nose wrinkled at the smell as she dabbed the epoxy into the holes beside the long rusty scrape mark. She had filled up the fuel tanks the day after Harvey had phoned, the day after her peaceful solitude had been twisted into something brutal and ugly. Her stomach rolled, and it wasn’t from the noxious glue. “I need to load the wooden crates that are in the shed.”

“Those would be the boxes for the rock samples that your brother’s phony prospecting trips produced. I suppose the cover story was your idea, right?”

“Instead of standing around goading me, why don’t you carry them down here yourself, Mr. Policeman?”

“Don’t goad me, either. I've had about enough of your sarcasm, Emma.”

She splayed her hand on the pontoon and looked up, making no effort to hide her scrutiny as her gaze traveled over his tall form. Tight jeans molded his powerful legs. A plaid flannel shirt hung loosely around his hips but the rolled-up sleeves revealed firm, muscular forearms and the open collar showed a hint of the springy hair that covered his chest. The dangling earring was gone, along with the ponytail. His blond curls lay in finger-combed disarray. “Okay, what should I call you? Who have you decided to be today?”

The vibrant blue of his eyes glittered with ice. “Bruce,” he stated.

“Okay, Bruce. Yes, it was all my idea, is that what you wanted to hear? The prospecting was a convenient ruse. Simon wasn’t participating in the actual smuggling when he damaged my plane. He’s still just a kid, he couldn’t handle what I got him into.”

“Some kid. His juvenile rap sheet includes everything from vandalism to car theft.”

“You know?”

“Of course, I know. Until now you've managed to keep one step ahead of the law, though, despite the rumors about your shady business practices. Except for that assault charge three years ago. What happened?”

“Nothing. It was settled out of court.”

“Why do you do it, Emma? Your affection for your brother seems genuine, so why get him involved in your criminal ventures? Is larceny in the Duprey genes?”

“Is this your idea of not goading me?”

“I'm just trying to get some things straight in my mind, sort out the truth from the smoke screen,” he said steadily. “How many kilos of cocaine do you bring in on one run?”

“It varies,” she improvised. “Why?”

“I'll be going along with you. It would simplify matters if no one else knew I was on the plane, so we need to rig something up at the back of the cabin, maybe a tarp I can conceal myself under. Will there be space?”

She did a quick mental calculation of the number of crates Simon had unloaded the last time. “Yes, I think so. We could leave out the camping gear.”

“What camping gear?”

“Simon stayed overnight...” She went silent as she realized the depths of her brother’s deception. He had camped overnight to mislead her, so she would swallow his story. God, she was gullible. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“Don’t make any changes to your routine that might arouse suspicion.”

“They won’t be suspicious. They figure I'm going to do exactly what they say. I have no intention of tipping them off to your presence, because I want the deal they agreed to as much as I want yours.”

“It’s a dangerous game, playing both sides against the middle, Emma.”

“The way I see it, Bruce, there isn’t much difference between the sides. You and McQuaig are each using me to get what you want. Neither of you gives a damn about anyone caught in the middle.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I'll give you a hand with those sample crates.” Without looking at her again, he turned around and headed up the hill to the shed.

She watched him go. She couldn’t help it. He didn’t use an awkward shuffle or an arrogant swagger. The long, easy strides he took were those of a man who was confident of his strength and his purpose. Of course, she already knew his purpose. But cop or not, he still fascinated her. And drew her. She might have been able to lock her door against him last night, but she couldn’t lock away her own desires so easily. How many more sleepless nights would he cause her?

You liked the way our mouths fit together. You wanted to touch me.

Oh, he’d been right about that. She’d wanted to touch him, to taste his kiss once more, to feel his taut muscles beneath her palms...to hear the sound of her fist striking his jaw.

But as he’d said, it wasn’t necessary to like someone in order to want them. She liked who he used to be, but that had been just another lie, hadn’t it? Biting her lip, she swung herself back to the dock and tossed the piece of wood she’d been using into the epoxy can. There were too many lies. She had to focus on her brother. He was the reason she was doing this. The situation was tangled enough already without adding this physical thing that was happening with Bruce. Or whoever he was.

From the direction of the driveway came the sound of a car engine. Emma stood up and turned toward the noise just as Bruce emerged from the shed with a pair of wooden crates held under each arm. Seconds later a blue-and-white police car nosed over the crest of the hill. The driver’s door opened and a familiar, uniformed man emerged.

“Haskin,” Emma said, her hands clenching by her sides. Of all the times for the Bethel Corners sheriff to choose to snoop around. Her breath caught. Had Bruce called him? Had he changed his mind about their deal? Did he mean to turn her in now?

Bruce barely gave the sheriff a glance. Adopting Primeau’s smooth strut, he carried the empty crates to the dock. “Keep calm and act normal,” he told her quietly as he stacked the boxes near the back of the plane. In front of her eyes his face settled into the insolent sneer of the character she had met the evening before.

“I thought he was on your side.” She watched Haskin approach from the other direction. “Don’t you trust your own team?”