Locke and Load (5 page)

Cage ignored her and rushed into the hall so fast the door slammed back against the wall from the force of his exit. Her feet picked up the pace as she followed Delaney out of the room.

“Where’s Prochaska?” Cage asked a startled Hutchins and Wilson.

The older detective pointed down the hall. “He’s gone. Left with his slimy lawyer.”

Delaney ran to the corner, his shoulders slumping as he glanced down the intersecting hallway. “He’s gone.”

“What’s going on?” Hutchins frowned. “Why did you want to know?”

“This,” Cage replied, shoving the sketch at Hutchins.

The older detective grabbed the paper. “Christ. Where’d this come from?”

Cage pointed to Nikki. “Ask her.” He whipped out his phone and walked away, barking orders to someone to stop Prochaska.

Delaney touched her arm. “Nikki.”

She turned to face him.

“Do you know about the quarantine going on in the city?”

She glanced at the three detectives eyeing her closely. “Vaguely. Something about a finance building having received anthrax two days ago,” she replied, recalling what Knight had mentioned.

Delaney nodded. “Yes. Homeland and the CDC locked the building down. The envelope the anthrax arrived in had the same symbol.”

Her insides shook.
Damn.
If only she’d known. The file Lisa had given only had details on the murder investigation. Not the anthrax details.

“More than half our manpower is tied up in it,” Wilson informed, scratching the back of his balding head.

“Hutchins, can you hold up the drawing?” She pulled out her phone and took a picture. “Thanks.”

Cage snapped his phone shut and cursed.

“Gone?” Delaney’s one word question rang in Nikki’s head like the echo of a loud church bell.

Her fault.

“Yes,” her ex ground out. “He left in an embassy limo two minutes ago.” Anger deepened the lines in his taut features. “Come on. Captain wants to see all of us, now.” He strode past, his gait purposeful, determined…angry.

Her heart sank. She’d blown it.
Dammit
. If she had just pressed Knight or Lisa or Sam for the information, maybe she would’ve known about the symbol. And, if she hadn’t been so damn preoccupied with thoughts of Cage, maybe she would’ve recalled the container sooner.

W
e had him!

Cage was so angry he could spit bullets. He was certain Prochaska had killed Drew, damn certain, and now the Czech was linked to the quarantine, too. Drew must’ve stumbled onto it. That
had
to have been what happened.

Now, it was up to him. He couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.
Wouldn’t
just sit by. Diplomatic immunity or not, the Czech was going down.

“Good, you’re all here. Close the door, Wilson.” The captain came around to lean on the front of his desk, arms folded.

His demeanor was much less aggravated than this morning’s briefing.

Locke stepped forward, expression unreadable. “Before you get started, Captain, I’d like to apologize.”

“For what?” His boss reeled back and frowned.

“For not remembering sooner, sir.”

Cage turned with the others to stare at her. Was she kidding? He hated to admit it, but thanks to her, they were finally on the right track on both cases.

The captain’s arms dropped to his sides. “Save your apologies, Ms. Locke. We
owe
you. You managed to do in several hours what we, the CDC, and Homeland have been unable to do for the past two weeks.”

She shook her head. “No. If I would’ve remembered sooner…”

Rivera waved a hand. “It’s not an issue. Trust me. Homeland is already on it. They’ll get Prochaska despite the diplomatic crap.”

Her chin lifted. “Then I’d like to offer my services, sir.”

“Thank you, Ms. Locke, but I think they have it covered for now,” the captain stated. “I need you on the Johnson case.”

She nodded and stepped back. Her ponytail swayed and Cage couldn’t stop his gaze from traveling over her, taking in how the tan dress hugged her hips as she retook her original stance near the window. He eyed her hair, the curve of her waist, her sweet ass…

A familiar, powerful ripple tore through his gut and groin. Some reactions remained the same. But everything else had changed.

Or had it?

He clamped down a snort. She’d used a fake name, a fake persona, so how the hell could he gauge a difference to the woman before him now? He probably never really knew the beauty.

Although, he knew how to cause a hitch in her breath and little mews to escape her throat with the right kiss to a certain spot on her neck. The accompanying tremor and way she’d tightened around him when she’d climaxed had been anything but fake.

Damn. This was not the time for carnal thoughts. He inhaled and refocused on the conversation.

“So, Hutchins, you and Wilson head on over to Homeland and see what they get off Prochaska when they bring him in.” Rivera turned his gaze to his partner then him. “Delaney, Burnett, go home.”

Home?

He reeled back. Fuck no. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to grill that slimy Czech bastard.

“You heard me, Burnett. Go home,” the captain repeated. “I know you want to do more, but for now, go home. You’ve done enough today.”

He hadn’t done nearly enough, but he swallowed his colorful reply and nodded.

“Lastly, we need to find someplace for Ms. Locke to stay.” Rivera’s hand shot up to stop whatever Wilson had been about to say. “Don’t even offer, stud. I’ve seen your place. There’s barely enough room for you.”

A collective chuckle went up around the office.

“Since Hutchins doesn’t have an extra room, and Delaney’s barely settled in, that leaves you, Burnett.”

His insides seized.
Hell no!
The last thing he wanted was that woman under his roof. All five gazes slammed into him. He forced his expression to remain neutral. He didn’t like where this was heading. Not one damn bit.

“You have a guest room, right?”

Shit. He never should have invited the captain over for poker last month. His gaze narrowed on the man. Was this payback for cleaning the guy out? Nah. The captain was a straight shooter. This was just Cage’s dumbass luck. He glanced at the “guest” in question. Christ. She was whiter than a ghost.

Was staying with him such a chore?

His mind did an about-face. If the
thought
made her this damn uncomfortable, imagine what the
act
would do. He lifted his chin and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Good, then I’m sure you won’t mind putting the lieutenant up while she’s here.”

He nodded again, and enjoyed the look of pure panic skittering through her gaze. She obviously didn’t want to stay with him.

Why?

It didn’t matter. Once his boss gave an order, it was a done deal. Something the former NIO was about to discover.

She turned back to the captain. “Sir, I don’t want to put anyone out. I have no problem bunking here at the precinct.”

“Nonsense, Ms. Locke.” Rivera rebuked her protest with ease. “We all know how important a decent night’s sleep is to an investigation whenever possible. You’ll be better off at Detective Burnett’s. He has a great little bungalow near the beach.”

He watched her draw in a breath and nod. Her shoulders were stiff, face grim. The woman was not happy. Too damn bad. A smile tugged at his lips.

“All right then, carry on.” The captain dismissed them with a wave as he headed back to his chair.

Locke walked to the corner to retrieve a black suitcase. Her rigid demeanor was full of undisguised misery. Damn. She really did not want to be near him. Anger began to burn his gut. Too fucking bad. She was stuck with him.

He watched as she extended the handle with a snap, then tugged her belongings toward the door.

“What are you doing?” A frowning Jersey stepped toward the disgruntled woman.

Two perfect brows knitted together. “I’m taking my stuff, why? Aren’t we leaving?”

“Yes, but let me help you.” His partner moved her hand away, pushed the handle down, then grabbed the side grip and lifted the suitcase off the floor.

“You don’t have to do that. I can get it,” she insisted.

“I know, but where I’m from, a gentleman does these things.” Delaney looked disapprovingly at Cage and added, “I guess southern hospitality doesn’t extend to suitcases.”

With that, his partner walked out the door, followed by the governor’s aide, a small smile tugging her generous mouth.

Wilson snickered. “Guess he told you.”

Cage let out a breath, held his tongue, and strode from the office. He hadn’t been given much of a chance to help, although, truth be told, he hadn’t planned on offering.

W
ould this day ever end?

A slight pounding started behind Nikki’s eyes. She rubbed at her temple in a pathetic attempt to will the throbbing away. Her gaze connected with the grim man striding toward her and the friendly detective as they waited for the elevator.

He said nothing. Just stopped and stood behind his partner. Delaney turned and thrust her suitcase at the scowling bugger.

“Here, you should take this. I’m driving my own car home, remember?” The light-haired detective turned back to her empty-handed and smiled. “I would invite you both over for supper, but I’m still settling in.”

“That’s okay,” Nikki rushed to say, wanting to put the kind man at ease as they stepped into the opened elevator. Delaney would’ve been a great buffer. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

She lied. She was far from sure. In fact, the only thing Nikki was certain of was the stark tension emanating from the silent man gripping her suitcase. He stood behind her, resembling a snake, coiled and ready to strike. Energy bit into her back, licking her spine with hot, tingling bursts. Her insides twisted tight. Their forced living arrangement was going to erupt into a heated argument, or worse…a heated embrace.

Neither was acceptable.

And she couldn’t even think about the ramifications if Rojas ever found out.

When the doors opened, humidity instantly rolled in like a wave crashing on the nearby shore. Nikki didn’t care. She was eager to step into the stifling garage and away from Cage’s oppressive heat. The difference was immeasurable.

The seething Cage was much hotter.

“I guess I’ll catch you two in the morning,” Delaney mused, unlocking the silver SUV parked next to the Mustang.

Yeah, if they survived the night. No one would be there to step in when she and her host came to blows. An inevitable incident. As inevitable as the setting sun.

“It was great working with you today.” She held out her hand to the departing safeguard.

He shook her hand and smirked. “Thanks. It was nice working with you today, too, former NIO Lieutenant Nicole Locke. I really loved your pier therapy. Nice work.” He released her and turned to his partner who was stowing her case. “Try not to kill each other.”

Cage slammed the trunk and grunted. “Have a good night, Jersey.”

“I will if you will. I even left you a present in your duffle bag.” Delaney winked before climbing into his vehicle.

His suggestive words and lopsided grin sent the butterflies occupying Nicole’s stomach straight into a frenzy. Five minutes later, she finally got the little buggers under control. She was being foolish. The man next to her was no longer interested, so there was no need to worry about their upcoming alone time. Hell, her actions in the parking garage that afternoon, when she’d jerked out of their embrace, were enough to cement her hands-off position.

Right?

She glanced at Cage as he silently negotiated Jacksonville’s late afternoon traffic. He’d changed. Broader and more foreboding now, he wore his jet black hair longer, making him appear even more sexy, if that was possible. A few more crinkles surrounded his mesmerizing eyes, but the five o’clock shadow covering his strong jaw was exactly the same. A daily occurrence, she recalled, with a slight jump to her pulse—still sexy and damn desirable. Her body instantly tingled, remembering how wonderful the rough surface had felt against her skin while his lips had slowly worshipped from head to toe.

Shifting in her seat, she quickly halted her trip down memory lane. That path was just too dangerous.

“Is there a problem?” The deep timbre of his voice pulled her back to the present.

She blinked and refocused. On work. Not his masculine presence or the heat emanating from his lean form barely an inch away. Nope. On work. Work was much safer. “No. I was just wondering what made you so sure Prochaska killed Drew?”

That sexy, razor-stubbled chin lifted while irritation chased surprise from his gorgeous green gaze.

“It wasn’t so much what he said, it’s what he didn’t say.”

“True.” She nodded. “Marek was very good at avoiding any question you posed about the docks.”

A scowl creased his face. “And when we mentioned the surveillance footage, the slick bastard deflected those questions with ones of his own.”

“I noticed,” she said. “You had him running scared.”

Surprise revisited the gaze he cast on her before a mask of neutral indifference claimed his expression. Her heart dropped. For a moment, she could tell he’d forgotten she was former NIO. His attention shot back to the road while his grip on the wheel tightened. He still thought of her as a business analyst, not someone who could analyze a suspect’s behavior during interrogation.

And why should he? The Nikki he’d known, the one he’d asked to spend the rest of her life with him had never mentioned her Navy days. Since most of her assignments had been classified, she chose to just keep quiet about all of it.

Looking back, she realized holding back had been a mistake. He deserved to know all of her, at least, all that she could’ve divulged.

She wished she could say something now. But what? The truth? Not hardly. And she certainly didn’t want to lie to him again. It’d nearly killed her four years ago when she had been forced to roll around between the sheets with one of Rojas’ men. The only thing that had gotten her through that horrible moment was the threat to Cage’s life. Rojas had been positioned in the building across the street, gun trained on Cage. If he hadn’t believed her lie, he would’ve been shot right then and there.

A tremor shook through her at the remembered terror. Just because the monster was in prison, didn’t mean the threat had disappeared. A fact the bastard had made clear in a letter she’d recently received, along with a photo of Cage. Her mind reeled, and by the time they pulled into the driveway of a one-story, white stucco bungalow, the tension between them had tripled.

Without a word, he got out of the car, grabbed her case, and headed for the house. She followed, still trying desperately to think of something to say. He held the door open for her, and given his demeanor, she was mildly surprised he hadn’t slammed it in her face.

Stepping inside, she found the air blessedly cool and the furnishings comfortable. Cage never was one to flash his wealth, despite a sizable inheritance from his deceased, real estate mogul father’s estate. The only thing he ever splurged on was a car. 

To her left was the living room; behind that was a modern kitchen that opened to a sitting room. Beyond that appeared to be a patio, but she’d only gotten a glimpse as Cage turned right and led her down a hall with three doors. He disappeared through the only one on the right.

Following the silent man, she entered a pleasant room with a full bed, nightstand, two dressers, and a closet. The curtains on the single window matched the bedspread, which was a shade darker than the pale blue walls. Captain Rivera was right. Sleeping here would be a lot easier than at the precinct.

Her suitcase bounced as her host dropped it on the bed. When he turned around, his gaze locked on hers, charged and dark, rooting her to the spot. Suddenly, the decent-sized room felt the equivalent to a broom closet. She couldn’t breathe.

He stared down at her a moment, an unrecognizable emotion skittering through his eyes too fast to name. She opened her mouth to speak, but once again, words failed. Indifference returned to loosen his jaw, and he dismissed her with a nod, then strode for the door.

God, she hated what she was doing to him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her apology sounding feeble even to her own ears.

He stopped in the doorway, but didn’t turn around. “The bathroom’s across the hall,” he informed, voice devoid of emotion, then marched to the other room at the end of the hall and closed the door. Hard.

Nikki forced her unsteady legs to move forward so she could shut herself in the room. Once secured, she stumbled backward to the bed. Life wasn’t fair
.
Unshed tears pricked behind her lashes as she sank onto the mattress and let out a wobbly breath. Life sucked. Two things she’d known for years.

Someday
, she promised herself
.
Someday, Cage would know the truth.

Inhaling deep, she buried her emotions and got off the bed to stow her gun in the top drawer of the nightstand. It was time to call her boss with a SITREP—situation report.

“What have you discovered?” he asked, instantly easing her tension.

Typical Commander Knight. With the exception of his daughters, he rarely interfered in his agents’ personal lives, and even though he knew she was facing her past on this mission, he didn’t press for that information.

She told him about the symbol and apologized for letting the man get away.

“That was on me. Not you,” he grumbled. “I should’ve given you the anthrax folder too, but the governor just wanted you to work the murder case. Do you have a copy of your drawing?”

“Yes.” Shoot. She’d meant to message it to KA. That was the reason she’d taken the photo in the first place. Cripes, she was losing her mind. “Hold on, I’ll send it to TJ now.” She hit speaker, accessed the ginger’s number, then sent the photo. “Okay. Done,” she said, taking her boss off speaker.

“Good,” he replied. “Now, tell me how you’re doing.”

She stilled, her throat instantly heating.

Dammit.

She swallowed. “Okay.”

“Bullshit.”

She hiccupped a laugh. Damn guy was too astute. “I’m managing.”

“That’s better,” he said. “I gather you decided not to tell Cage the truth.”

She closed her eyes and nodded as if her boss could see. “Yes. I just can’t shake the feeling…”

A beat of silence met her ear. “Well, it’s your business. You know where I stand on it, but that’s your call.”

“Thank you, sir.”

She hung up after promising to keep him updated. He didn’t know about the letter Rojas had sent a few months back, and she wasn’t about to tell him. Nothing could be done, anyway, so why bother? She forced the monster from her mind, then called TJ. “Did you get my photo?”

“Sure did, pretty lady, and it is indeed a match to the symbol on the anthrax envelope.”

Damn. “I wish I had known.” She blew out a breath and switched gears. “Did you check out Mrs. Johnson?”

“Yes. The detective’s wife looks clean. No criminal record, strange calls, or activity on their bank account. Nothing,” he told her before ending the call.

Nikki hadn’t doubted Cage, just worried he was too close to see clearly. Apparently, he was fine. Not her. Cripes. She hated being stuck under the same roof with him. The situation had gone from bad to worse in one afternoon. Her screw up with not recognizing the symbol cost them their suspect.

Time to regain control.

She needed to expel some energy, and a nice long jog on the beach held infinite appeal. With her meager belongings unpacked into the empty dresser and closet, Nikki eyed the plastic bag Wilson had procured for her ocean-soaked outfit. This was Florida. In mid-July. It wouldn’t take long for mold to set in. Finding the washing machine just became a priority…after she changed.

Once she donned her navy bikini and pulled on a pair of matching running shorts, she grabbed the bag and left the room. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Alarm trickled down her spine. On the other side of the hall, both doors were opened and the rooms deserted.

“Cage?”

No response. She calmed her pulse, cocked her head, and listened. Nothing. Just the soft whirl of the air conditioner and hum of the fridge. In less than a second, she was down the hall, crossing the living room, scanning the kitchen and sitting room as she moved. No sign of Cage.

Did he get mad and leave?
She turned and glanced out the front window. The Mustang still sat in the driveway. Her heart dropped.

Where was he?

She pivoted around and rushed through the kitchen, her bare feet making no sound on the cool tile floor as she passed the gleaming granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. A quick peek through the doorway on her right brought her into the laundry room. She tossed the bag of wet clothes onto the washer, turned around, then continued through the sitting room to the back door. 

The instant she stepped outside, heat and humidity clung to her like a veil of steam. Wiping her brow, she surveyed the large patio, spotting Cage’s cell phone on a small table.

“Cage?”

Again, no response. She continued to scan the small yard surrounded by a high, white privacy fence. Magnolias scented the air from two trees lining the perimeter along with a nice assortment of palms and shrubs.

She inhaled the sweet fragrance, trying hard to remain composed. Her mind reeled. Where the hell was Cage? Her gaze shot past the outdoor shower to a gated door leading to the beach. Did he go for a swim? Surely he would’ve told her first.

Contemplating whether or not to go back inside for her gun, Nikki decided to proceed without the weapon and quickly headed for the gate. Randomly placed pavers were smooth but hot under her feet, heated from the day’s sun. She opened the gate to find more trees and brush lining another section of pavers that tapered onto the beach.