Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers (4 page)

forehead,
his face had gotten so red. Maybe she should have
mentioned the tape, but she'd wanted to make sure she'd had a copy for herself first.
Then there was the question of the note she'd taken from the crime scene last night.
It had been pure instinct that had made her shove the note in her pocket. She wasn't
sure why she'd kept quiet about it, but she had. Now she was guilty of withholding
evidence, but she still wasn't sure what she was going to do about it.
Ever cautious, she grabbed her cell phone out of her purse where it sat on the small
hutch situated just inside the front door. After what she'd seen last night, it would be
stupid not to be careful. She still had no idea if the person who'd called her had been
the murderer, but the police thought it was likely. With her finger on the speed dial for
the cops, she looked through the peephole.
"Who is it?" Whoever was out there was standing to one side of the door so she
couldn't see them.
"My name is Zane York. I'm a cop."
So she was right. Sophia leaned her head against the hard surface of the door and
cursed softly. She
so
did not need this right now. Glancing down at her less than
professional attire, she sighed. "This isn't a good time." Maybe he'd go away.
"I won't stay long. I just have a few questions."
Nope, he definitely wasn't going to go away. Knowing that she really had no
choice, she undid all the locks and dragged the door open. "I didn't think you guys had
any questions left that you hadn't..." The word "asked" was lost as her mouth dropped
open and she stared at the man standing outside her door.
Gorgeous was just too weak a word.
Primal, maybe.
Dangerous, definitely.
Her
gaze roved upward. He had to be almost a foot taller than her. Okay, maybe that was a
stretch, but not by much. He was just so darn big that he appeared huge. The man was
definitely a couple of inches over six feet. His shoulders seemed to fill the entire
doorway and stretched the seams of his tight black T-shirt.
His face was a work of art. His cheekbones were
high,
his jaw was strong, but not
quite square. He had full lips that were set in a serious line. His hair was as black as a
raven's wing and looked just as soft. It was cut short, but she wanted to run her fingers
through it. His eyes were a surprise. A muddy brown in color, they didn't seem to suit
the rest of his face, but his lashes were black and thick.
There was an animal magnetism that seemed to roll off the man, a barely
suppressed need for action that pulsed just below the surface. He sighed, waiting not
quite patiently as she perused him.
Too bad.
He'd have to wait. Speaking was beyond
her at this moment.
She caught a whiff of him and almost moaned with pleasure. Damn, he smelled
fantastic. She wanted to bury her face in the curve of his neck and just inhale. She'd
never had this kind of immediate reaction to any man in her entire life.
At least not to
any living, breathing man.
The phantom lover in her dreams was a whole other story.
He was the only other man she'd ever had this kind of reaction to and he wasn't real.
Pheromones, yeah, that was it. It had to be pure chemistry. If she could bottle whatever
this man exuded, she could make a fortune. The urge to tear off her clothes, throw
herself onto the floor and offer herself to this man was almost overwhelming.
Her breathing was getting shallower and she felt slightly dizzy. Her breasts were
swollen and aching, the tips hard pebbles pressing against the thin fabric of her tank
top. But it was nothing compared to the throbbing heat between her thighs. She wanted
to arch her hips against the hardness pressing against the front of his jeans. Oh yeah, he
was as aroused as she was. And from what she could see, he had a rather impressive
bulge there. Liquid trickled down her inner thigh as her pussy lips softened and
thickened.
She'd certainly never seen this man before. A woman would never forget a man this
hot.
Like a bucket of cold water, her thoughts finally permeated her muddled brain. She
didn't know this man, hadn't spoken to him at the station.
Hadn't even seen him there.
Fear surged through her bloodstream. She slammed the door, but it was too late.
His large, booted foot jammed into the opening. Remembering the phone in her hand,
she hit the speed dial even as he pushed the door open.
Sophia turned to run, but he was on her before she could take one step. He calmly
pried the phone from her fingers, turned it off and tossed it onto the table. Nudging the
door closed with his foot, he stared down at her.
Terror gave her strength and she began to struggle and kick, damning her soft
puppy-dog slippers when they did absolutely no damage against his thick shins. She
opened her mouth to scream.
His mouth came down over hers, absorbing her small cry, drinking it into him. His
lips were warm and soft as they covered hers and her struggles lessened. He captured
her hands easily and held them over her head as he pushed her up against the wall. His
body covered hers and she could feel his hard erection pressing against her stomach.
She whimpered--part fear, part desire. What was wrong with her? She should be
fighting and kicking. Instead, all she wanted to do was to sink into this man, take him
into her body and give him everything he asked for.
He eased his mouth from hers and she almost cried out at the lack of contact. As
kisses went, it really hadn't been much more than his lips touching hers. At no time had
he even tried to deepen the embrace. Still, it had devastated her senses. This man was
dangerous in more ways than one.
"
Shh
," he whispered as he nuzzled the sensitive skin of her neck just behind her
ear. "I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you." Sophia stilled, sensing not just the
sincerity, but also the pledge behind his words. "I
promise, I'm a cop and I just want to
talk
."
"I don't know you." Her voice wasn't her normal no-nonsense tone. She sounded
breathy, almost sultry. She cleared her throat. "Who are you?" She knew he'd said his
name but, as muddled as she felt right now, she couldn't remember it.
He leaned back, which pressed his erection even tighter to her stomach. She fought
the urge to hook her leg over his hip and grind her pelvis against his.
"My name is Zane York and I want to talk to you about what you saw last night."
He slowly released her hands, running his fingers over the insides of her arms. He
traced her collarbone and downward between her breasts before taking a step away
from her.
He stared at her nipples where they poked against the thin cotton fabric of her top.
Sophia realized she was just standing there with the backs of her hands still pressed
against the wall even though he was no longer holding her. It had to be the lack of sleep
that was making her act this way. Lowering her arms, she crossed them over her chest.
Not that she had much to cover, but it was the principle of the thing.
"I need to go get dressed," she muttered. She needed the protective armor of her
clothing to face this man.
She turned to head to the bedroom, but he stopped her in her tracks without even
touching her. "Please," he whispered softly. "I just want to talk." Reaching into the back
pocket of his jeans, he drew out a slim leather wallet and opened it, displaying a badge.
Leaning closer, she stared at it, her eyes narrowing. "That says you're a New York
cop." She took a cautious step backward, although where she thought she was going,
she didn't know. He was already inside her apartment and had had plenty of
opportunity to hurt her if that was his intention. "Why is a New York cop interested in
a death in New Orleans?"
"Now that's the question, isn't it?"
Chapter Three
Zane stared at Sophia, unable to tear his gaze away from her as he slipped his
badge back into his pocket. He could see the caution tinged with distrust as she
narrowed her eyes, studying him.
Pale green.
Her eyes were the softest pale green he'd
ever seen, making her appear even more like a fairy from a child's book of tales. But if
she was a fairy, she was damn sure the queen. There was nothing soft or ethereal in the
way she regarded him. If she'd had the strength, he was sure he'd be out on his ass
right now. He rubbed his fingers over his face, hiding a grin behind his hand.
Her eyes narrowed further as if she suspected he was laughing at her, but she said
nothing. He'd been right about her lips. They were soft and plump and he'd barely
resisted the impulse to nip at them. Instead he'd contented himself with just touching
them with his tongue, tasting them with his mouth. As kisses went, it had barely gotten
started, but it had been the most erotic kiss of his entire life.
"Why don't we sit down?" He kept his voice low, unthreatening. His eyes were
drawn to where her arms were still crossed over her chest. When he'd had her pressed
back against the wall, he'd felt the hard nubs of her breasts pressing against his chest.
He wanted to strip that thin tank top over her head and feast on her flesh. She wasn't
very large, but he had a feeling that she'd be very sensitive. He wanted to know if her
nipples were the same dusky pink as her lips.
"Let's not," she snapped, dropping her arms by her side. "Have a good look, ask
your questions and then get out."
He knew she'd meant to make him feel guilty or ashamed for staring at her chest,
but he felt neither of those things. Instead, taking her at her word, he took his time,
slowly perusing her body from top to bottom. His eyes burned as he studied the V at
the top of her thighs. Was she wet for him? He'd bet anything that if he slipped his
hands inside her drawstring pants and pushed aside her panties, he'd find her soft folds
slick with need.
"Oh, for God's sake, is this junior high?" The disgust in her tone brought his gaze
back to hers.
He shrugged, totally unrepentant. "You offered." Her cheeks were tinged a light
red and he realized that she was blushing. He'd been right about the freckles too. She
only had a couple, but they were there, scattered like fairy dust on either side of her
nose.
"We both know there's not much to see, so can we get on with the questions?"
Turning on her heel, she spun around and stomped over to a chair in the corner. At
least she tried to stomp. It wasn't easy for a woman to stomp when she was wearing
soft slippers with, if he wasn't mistaken, puppy-dog heads.
"I beg to differ." He sauntered into the room behind her and sat on the low coffee
table in front of her. "There is definitely plenty to see and most of it is quite
spectacular." He had no idea why he was teasing her, flirting with her in this way. Not
only was it totally inappropriate, but it was also totally out of character for him. There
was something inside him that wanted her to know just how beautiful he found her.
Somehow he knew that she hadn't heard those words much in her lifetime and that was
a crime. There was something about her that left him feeling almost lightheaded with
need.
She snorted at him as she sat back and crossed her legs. Leaning her elbows on the
arms of the chair, she
steepled
her fingers and eyed him thoughtfully. "Is this related to
any case in New York?"
He could almost see the wheels of her head turning and knew she was thinking
serial killer. He shook his head.
"Nope.
I used to be a cop here and this is of personal
interest to me."
Her face paled and she leaned forward. "Were you a friend of the victim?"
Her immediate sympathy made his stomach clench. "No." He shook his head again.
"But I think it might be related to some other incidents that happened several years
ago."
"Tell me." All signs of sympathy were gone from her voice, replaced by her
clipped, no-nonsense voice. This was no Southern belle, but a transplanted Yankee. He
wondered how she'd ended up so far south.
"It's confidential and, at this point, circumstantial. No one else is considering this
angle but me." Her chin tilted up and her lips thinned. She was stubborn, no doubt
about it. He could easily sneak back into her home when she was asleep tonight and
check her computer and her files, but for some unknown reason, he wanted her to
freely share any information she had with him.
"Not good enough." She kicked her foot absently as she studied him, making the
dog's ears on her slipper wave back and forth. He grinned, unable to stop himself. Her
eyes followed his and she swore as she uncrossed her legs and set her foot firmly on the
floor. "They were a present from a friend, okay?"
"They're cute. They suit you." And he realized that they did. There was something
soft and cuddly about the slippers that suited her.
"That's what she said too." She went back to business immediately. "What do you
know about this case?"
"Nothing." He held up his hands in mock surrender when she scowled at him.
"Okay, I know about as much as you do." He rattled off what he knew about the victim,
ending with the fact that the young woman hadn't had any enemies and the boyfriend
had checked out clean. It was believed that she was the victim of a random act of
violence.
Sophia shook her head vehemently. "It didn't seem random. Something about her
drew the killer to her. What was it? The way he had her laid out, naked from the waist
up with her arms spread straight out by her sides, seemed almost ritualistic. She didn't
land that way on her own. He positioned her intentionally. Why the cemetery and why
did he drain her blood?"
Zane's chest swelled with pride. "You think like a cop."
She shrugged. "I've been doing this for a few years--you watch and you learn."
Scooting to the edge of her chair, she leaned forward until their noses were almost
touching. "What do you know?"
Sighing, he leaned away when all he wanted to do was yank her into his arms and
tumble them both to the floor. His hormones were definitely in overdrive when it came
to wanting to claim this woman. He wanted to mark her as his so that every other man
she met would know that she belonged to him.