On Her Six (Under Covers) (12 page)

Her teeth were grinding into powder, he was sure of it. “How?”

“How, what? How have I been able to do my job without you pains-in-the-ass getting into my business?” He crossed his arms, the muscles in his back burning from the tension. “That’s for me to know.”

At her determined pout, he asked, “Why does it matter so much to you anyway? What’s your beef with Heinrich?”

A grave shadow fell across her face.

He didn’t expect that reaction, and he sure as hell didn’t like seeing it. His arms dropped to his sides. The anger drained from his body. “Samantha?”

Chapter Thirteen

She turned to the plain white wall, staring blindly. “My father went missing while working with Heinrich. He was a cop. Undercover. And just one day stopped communicating with his handler.” Her jaw shifted to the side and one corner of her lip lifted grimly. “It’s been years and no one’s heard from him. Everyone at the station thinks he’s either ashamed because he turned dirty or he’s…dead.”

“Jesus.” Logic clicked as he swallowed the large ball in his throat. Baltimore. Drugs. Cops. The port. Heinrich. “Your father was Davy Harper.”

She turned back to him, her eyes bright as sapphires. “You knew him?”

“I knew
of
him. Read the case file.”

Everything he’d studied about the case rushed into his mind. There’d been nothing in there about Harper being dirty. The file suggested he’d been killed by Heinrich, who hadn’t been convicted because they never found Harper’s body. Heinrich wouldn’t be so lucky this time around. His sorry ass would rot in jail for the rest of his life when the team got hold of him.

Survived by his daughter
, the file had said. The realization hit Ash hard, erasing any remaining anger, replacing it with understanding.

“What do you know about my dad?” she asked. “Anything specific? Anything I can use to try to find him?”

To find him? Christ. The woman had balls of steel and the stubbornness of a mule. What person willingly searched for a family member who’d been associated with a dangerous drug kingpin like Heinrich? Especially since she didn’t have resources at her disposal like Ash and his teammates.

“Like you said, he was undercover,” Ash said, “working for Heinrich, who was trying to smuggle a new drug into the port. The file suggests it was an early version of Vamp. Your father managed to uncover Heinrich’s plan for the new drug before”—he lowered his voice—“before he was killed. Samantha, I’m sorry. The file said Heinrich killed your father.” He looked her over, so small and fragile in the moment. She stiffened at his comment and jerked her pale face to him. Her lips quivered. She did her best to fight off the onslaught of the shock, but a single tear dropped down her cheek before landing on the cotton sheet. “He died a hero.” He had to make sure she knew that.

“H-how do you know? How can you be sure he’s gone?” She swiped her hand across her cheek. “Everyone at the station is sure he was dirty. Why would the DEA automatically assume he’s dead?”

“No one can be a hundred percent sure. They never found…” His throat constricted to the point that he almost couldn’t get the words out. He inhaled deeply and then thrust the words past his lips. “They never found his body.”

She didn’t react, which told him his revelation wasn’t news to her. “Then no one knows for certain,” she said, her expression hardening. “He might still be out there. Heinrich might have him locked away somewhere. At his mercy.”

Aaaaaaand he just gave her the push she needed to start looking for him. “He might, but Samantha, the chances of that are—”

“Possible. It’s still possible, Ash. It is.”

Sure, anything was possible, even if it wasn’t probable. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Whatever lingering emotions she’d had about her father, whatever suppressed pain she’d endured, Ash wasn’t going to make it any better by telling her to lose hope. To give up and move on. Even though that’s exactly what she needed to do.

What about you? You’re not so different with your pain. Why don’t you give up on that shit with Lorena and move on?

“Tell me more about Vamp,” she said. “What’s Heinrich’s play?”

No sense keeping his cover at this point. She obviously wasn’t working for Heinrich. And she deserved to know what her father had been wrapped up in. “It’s in paper form. Small and virtually undetectable. Which is probably how they’re smuggling it in and getting people hooked so easily. I watched a bartender at Club Hell drop it into a woman’s drink. It evaporated instantly. No trace at all. I imagine the same is true if you smoked a cigarette wrapped in Vamp paper. It doesn’t take much. The shit’s potent. Just a small portion would do it.”

“He has to be stopped,” she said softly.

“It’s not that simple.”

Determination gleamed in her eyes. “Just go and burn it. The paper.”

He shook his head. “There’s a good chance by breathing in the fumes, everyone around would become addicts. And not in the way you were last night. I’m talking about becoming vamps. Like that maniac who held you at gunpoint. It would take years of treatment just to ease withdrawal. And that’s if we don’t die from it first.” His stomach cramped at the thought of Viktor Heinrich succeeding in his plan. “It’s too risky.”

“But I have to do something. He can’t get away with this. What he did to my dad. What he’s trying to do to my friends and neighbors.”

“Heinrich isn’t the mastermind behind this operation. He’s got guys below him, sure, some are even on the force. You probably work with some of them.” He shot her a pointed stare, and at her look of surprise, he continued, “But he’s working for someone big and powerful. A ghost. We watch long enough, whoever’s pulling the strings will make a mistake. And then we can nail him.” Ash’s fists tightened, imagining it was Heinrich’s neck.

“I can’t wait.” Her shoulders rose and fell with determined breaths. “I know where Viktor Heinrich is. I’m going back to Club Hell to interrogate him. I’m going to find out what happened to my father.”

Ignoring her overuse of the pronoun “I,” he tried to calm her down. “It doesn’t work that way, Sam. We have to hang back, wait for him to make a move.” Something Ash found hard to do himself.

“Oh, screw that! I’ll go and—”

When he gripped her wrist a little too hard, her eyes widened. “Promise me you won’t go back there.” She opened her mouth like she was going to argue, so he hardened his stare. “
Promise
me.” He wouldn’t be able to endure another night of worry. Watching the crowd descend on her last night had been more than he could handle. A primitive need to protect took over. If he’d been able to free his hands, he would have demolished everyone in the room for even attempting to look at her. If Die Hard III—or was it IV?—hadn’t taken his gun, Ash would have placed a round between all their eyes.

“I can use my resources to look for your dad,” he said. “I’ll call my teammates and ask them to keep an eye out. If Heinrich is holding him somewhere, then I should be able to find out pretty easy. Give me some time. We’re so close to nailing Heinrich. We just need—”

She was already shaking her head. “I have to find out if my dad is still out there. He needs me. I can’t sit here and wait.”

“You have to,” he snapped. The thought of her in danger mixed with the possibility she’d put herself back in it made his words harsh. “Whether you like it or not, you’re going to go about your regular business while I do my job.”

And in the meantime, he’d have to come up with a menial job to keep her occupied. Something enticing enough for her to think she was involved in the case when she really wasn’t.

Her lips puckered and she said, “You don’t know me very well if you think I’m just going to—”

There was only one way to keep her quiet. Only one thing could take her mind off the suicide mission she had in mind.

He crushed his lips to hers, silencing her of everything, even her breath. She clawed her nails into his shoulder, probably to invoke pain or push him away, but it was a futile attempt at best.

Seizing a handful of her hair, he forced her head back as his mouth devoured hers in raw power. His tongue sliced between her lips, and he was surprised to find hers dashing out to meet it. She gasped, probably from the shock of her own willingness, and let out a moan of—Resistance? Pleasure?—before she dug her nails deeper, nearly drawing blood from his shoulder. She withdrew her tongue and bit down hard on his lower lip. He pulled back from the sharp pain, but couldn’t blame her.

Her palm cracked across his cheek.

He didn’t even see it coming. How was she able to do that to him?

“How dare you.” She scrambled to the edge of the bed, trying to drag the sheet with her as she stood.

He was still lying on top, anchoring it in place as he wiped drops of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. His subconscious smiled at the thought of allowing her to draw more blood from him. Would she like it rough?

She looked at him, and then down to the sheet, which barely covered her front. The slight swell of her breasts broached the line of cover, and her right hip and leg were bare and exposed. A smooth porcelain canvas just waiting to be completely uncovered…

One pull and it would all come down.

“What’s it going to be?” he asked, more than amused at her predicament. “Quick getaway naked? Or retreat back to bed all covered up?”

She slinked toward the bed. “You are a horrible, horrible man.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” He stroked his chin in thought. “By you, actually.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Last night. Did I forget to mention that? Hmm, I guess I did. Now, let me try to remember…” His finger tapped his chin. “Ah, yes, ‘asshole.’ I think that’s what you called me.”

Her lips pinched as she yanked at the sheet again, hardly moving it an inch. “Would you please lift your big,
oafy
body?”

Pondering again, he said, “No. I think you’re going to have to come back to bed.” He sent her a satisfied grin. “You didn’t seem to mind it last night.”

“You’re a pig.”

She glanced around the room, noticing her clothes hanging on a nearby chair, out of reach. Her gaze fell to her feet and then darted back to the chair.

“You’ll never make it,” Ash said, still grinning. He rested his spine against the headboard, his arms bent and hands clasped behind his head. He hoped like hell she’d drop the sheet. “But, please, try.”

After a moment of hopeless staring at the chair, she turned to him with a pleading expression. “Be a gentleman and turn around.”

“Now what fun would that be? Besides, I didn’t hear you ask nicely.”

Her cheeks flinched and lips flattened into a tight line. “
Please
turn around.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He closed his eyes. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t trust you.”

A rustle of movement sounded, then the sheet pulled from under his leg. He peeked one eye open.

“Close your eyes!”

Lowering his lid, he chuckled at the sight of her tiptoeing toward her clothes like a naked cat burglar. What a cat burglar she’d make. Long, sculpted legs, tight, curved ass, slender back. Why had he given her the option to get out of bed? He readjusted to ease his sudden discomfort.

“You done yet?” he asked, listening for movement. Thoughts of her naked would lead to nothing but trouble. He needed her fully clothed, and he needed it fast. Otherwise, he wasn’t going to allow her to get dressed until much, much later.

“Almost!” The sound was muffled.

When he opened his eyes, the room was empty.

Chapter Fourteen

“You okay?” Ash shouted.

“Yes!” Sam yelled from the safety of the locked bathroom. She was already dressed. She’d accomplished the task in lightning speed for fear he’d bust in.

She plastered her ear to the door, imagining what he was doing on the other side. Hopefully putting a shirt on. Staring at his chest and tight abs made it impossible to keep her cool.

Sounds of movement thumped around the room, then footsteps neared the door.

He knocked gently. “Almost done?”

“Yes, yes. Almost.” She sank onto the side of the porcelain tub, her shoulders drawn forward.

“Okay, I’ll be downstairs.” He grumbled, and then the bedroom door closed.

How had she gotten herself into this situation? Getting high on the latest street drug, sleeping naked next to her new neighbor, and straddling him in the morning was definitely not her idea of ladylike behavior.

And Ash mentioned her weapons. Had she actually used them last night? Had people gotten hurt? She swung her head down and placed it between her knees. Her breath came at a rapid pace, and she worked to calm herself.

It’s okay. Obviously you had to do it. Something must have happened for you to use them.
A vague image of Ash being held by men much larger than he was flashed through her mind, then it was gone. She’d had to save him. It was self-defense. She wouldn’t have used her weapons otherwise. Only if she’d needed to.

She growled through clenched teeth. Why couldn’t she remember any of it? She remembered walking into Club Hell and trying to save Ash. Then nothing. It was like a black void in her brain.

From now on, she would be more careful in her investigation. No more slipups. If she was going to find Dad, then she needed to bring her A game.

At least Ash had agreed to contact his teammates for their help in looking for her dad. With their resources, she’d have a much better shot at finding him. And she
had
to find him.

Sam had every reason to believe what Ash told her about his involvement. There was something in his eyes, shining with conviction when he spoke. He wanted to nail Heinrich. She still didn’t understand why he would allow other people to get all the credit for the work he’d been doing, but that was his business. If it was her, she’d demand to be included. Wear them down until they agreed to let her help. Which was what she was doing to him.

For so long she’d felt alone in her pursuit of the man who had taken her father from her. Her heart swelled at the thought of having reinforcements.

She nibbled on her nails. How could she convince him to let her come along while he did his surveillance on Heinrich? Sure, he wasn’t technically in charge of his investigation. And yeah, okay, it was against the rules to have a civilian tag along. She might not be a cop, but she knew that much. But, damn it, she was desperate to get close to Heinrich. He was the one with answers.

After minutes of pondering, she poked her head out of the door into the bedroom.

Empty.

She scanned the room to learn what she could about its owner. A bed with only cotton sheets, a dark wood nightstand with a lamp, and a club chair by the window. All she could discern was that her neighbor was a minimalist.

Continuing through the bedroom, she entered the hallway.

Empty. And the walls were white and bare.

The layout of his house was identical to hers—three bedrooms in the back, stairs in the front—so it wasn’t difficult to find her way around.

When she went down the steps and entered the kitchen, the sweet aroma of coffee hit her like a splash of cold water on a hot summer day.

“Not so fast.” Ash maneuvered her hand toward a jug of purple Gatorade. “You’re going to be dehydrated. You need to drink something other than coffee.”

“But I love coffee.”

“Too bad. Vamp dries out the organs, no matter how little you’ve had. You need to recoup what you lost last night.”

“But—”

His features twisted, giving her an amused face she thought was meant to be stern.

“Fine, I’ll drink the Gatorade.”

“Good girl.” He stood at the oven, flipping pancakes onto a plate.

A naked back, low-slung shorts on narrow hips, and calves leading to bare feet stared back. Was this his normal “at home” attire? She wanted to kick herself for hoping it was.

He appeared more foreboding, more dangerous, in the light of day. Shoulders exaggerated in size, legs mean and defined, and a tight rear just asking to be grabbed. His butt. Grabbing his butt would be—

He turned with a stack of pancakes in hand. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she said, sweeping her eyes up to meet his. “Is that a side effect too? The munchies?”

He laughed. “Nah. That’s just weed. Vamp isn’t your first experiment with drugs, I see.”

“No, that’s not what I meant—” She’d never done any kind of drug before. Not even a puff of a cigarette. She slouched in her chair and tapped her fork on the plate he’d just laid in front of her.

He sat across from her, offering a full view of his bare chest. She did her best not to stare as they ate in companionable silence. They both smiled and chewed, chewed and smiled.

When he glanced down to stab another bite on his plate, her gaze lingered a bit longer, traveling down to his tattoo. An eagle in flight. Its wings spread across the base of his neck, the tips of the feathers reaching up, and the eagle’s body rested along the bulge of his pec. The beast’s beak opened as if screeching a war cry. Its sharp talons extended toward an unsuspecting prey. Exquisitely drawn in all black, it was strong and menacing. Much like its owner.

Her eyes trailed further across his chest, admiring his spatter of dark hair and heart-shaped pecs. Her eyes caught something unusual on the left side. A small, round scar. Not even an inch and a half in circumference.

A bullet hole.

How had he gotten that? And in such a distinct place—just above his heart.

Ash cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. He stood, the chair skidding a few inches across the floor, and he vanished down the hallway. He was back moments later covered in a T-shirt.

“So,” he said, as if he hadn’t left, “I’ve been thinking. You want to go after Heinrich in order to find out what happened to your father. I get that. But, Sam, I can’t let you get anywhere near that psychopath.” He dropped into his chair and propped an elbow on the table.

“But—”

He held up a hand. “Let me finish.”

She debated whether to tell him to go shove it, but her curiosity won out. “Fine. Go ahead.”

He nodded as if satisfied by her quick obedience. Ugh. She definitely should have told him to suck it.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “Remember how I mentioned some of your BPD coworkers were on Heinrich’s payroll?”

She gave a small nod. She’d remembered all right. Didn’t believe it. But she remembered.

“Well, why don’t you see if you can find them? Do a little recon and let me know if anyone’s acting out of the ordinary. Or seems to be hiding something. It could lead somewhere big.” He leaned in, staring into her eyes. “It could even lead directly to Heinrich himself.”

Heinrich? She could definitely live with that. Whether she went back to Club Hell and confronted him there or she found another route, it didn’t matter. As long as she found out what happened to Dad. Plus, if she kept Ash happy, giving him some tangible info, then maybe he’d soften and give her something in return. Maybe he’d let her tag along to some meetings with his teammates. It was best to cast a wide net at this point.

Her excitement must have been written all over her face, because his expression changed, and he leaned even farther across the table, his chest hovering over the wood. “But do not, under any circumstances, take matters into your own hands. You come right back here and tell me what you found. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, smiling. Yep. Absolutely. Uh-huh.

He lounged back in his seat, but his expression stayed firm. “I mean it, Sam,” he said. “I don’t think you’re taking Heinrich seriously enough. I know you want to find your father, but don’t let that cause you to make stupid decisions.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I got it.”

His eyes narrowed, and he waited. Maybe to see if she’d argue some more. But she knew better. Quit while you’re ahead. Poker with Grandma Rose and the ladies had at least taught her that.

When she didn’t respond, his expression softened and he asked, “So what’s on the agenda today? Do you have to work?”

Desperately wanting to invade his privacy and ask about the scar he’d covered up so quickly before, she instead nodded. “Night shift tonight. You?”

“I have some work around here I could do.”

She followed his eyes, surveying the room. It was plain and downright masculine. Not even a spice rack on the counter. Just the linoleum floor, a simple table with two chairs, and low-grade appliances. The cabinets were probably bare. The guy obviously didn’t ever have guests over. Or hadn’t made Baltimore a permanent place of residence. “How long are you here?”

He paused, his expression blank as he finished chewing. “For as long as it takes. A few more weeks probably. Once the assignment is over, I’ll be relocated to another city. Another assignment.”

A few more weeks. Why did a small pang of unpleasantness jab her heart at the thought?

What did it matter how long he was here? A few weeks, months, or years, she didn’t care as long as he helped her find out about Dad.

But where would he go? What would he do? She hardly knew anything about him.

As if reading her mind and wanting to avoid the topic, he asked, “So what should we do today?”

Huh? Now he wanted to hang out? “Look,” she began, “I really appreciate what you did for me yesterday.”

“I appreciate what you did for me, too.”

“I don’t want to even think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

She thought she heard him groan in agreement.

“But I should get going. My grandma will know I didn’t come home last night, and she’s probably beside herself right now.”

He shook his head. “She knows you’re here.”

Sam cocked her head, confused. Grandma Rose and the girls went to the church fund-raiser last night.

“The red light,” he said, popping another forkful in his mouth. “I thought the same thing about your grandmother worrying, so I looked across the street this morning. The light was still blinking. No one was in the room, but the recorder was definitely still powered on. You should tell them to put something over it. Black electrical tape usually works.” His jaw worked as he chewed. “Should be interesting to watch what they captured last night, huh?” Then a mischievous toothless grin slid across his face.

Ah, shit. “Sorry,” was all she could say when the rush of embarrassment hit her. She groaned and wanted to drop her head into the plate of remaining syrup when she thought about how Grandma would react when she watched the tape this morning. “We’ll stop watching your house. It’s not necessary now that we know who you are.”

He rested the fork on his plate and eased back in his chair. “I appreciate that. It’ll make things easier. Communication with the team, for starters.” He smiled into his plate. “My workout routine, for another.”

She grimaced as her face heated. And it wasn’t because his house was about a thousand degrees.

They again fell into comfortable silence, munching on their pancakes. But silence—no matter how pleasant—was something Sam never could tolerate.

“So when did you join the DEA?”

“Five years ago.”

“What did you do before that?”

“Military for ten years.”

“Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “Can’t complain. I got to see the world while busting bad guys. How about you? You like working for the City Police?”

She mirrored his shrug. “Not my dream job. But I can’t complain.”

“Really?” He set his fork on the table and clasped his hands in front of him, leaning toward her. “What’s your dream job?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced away, staring at the butcher-block counter.

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen you high. That makes us friends. And friends talk about this kind of stuff.” He gave her an adorable lopsided grin.

She waited, deciding what she’d lose by revealing her secret, and then just said it. “I want to be a cop.”

“Then you should do it.” Simple and matter of fact. Easy for him to say.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

How could she admit her problem to someone like him? Someone so competent. She took a deep, encouraging breath and then squared her shoulders. “I’ve taken the police exam six times, and I can’t pass it.”

“What?”
He coughed twice and then cleared his throat. “Is there a certain part that gives you the most trouble?”

“Shooting,” she admitted. She traced her fork through the syrup. “I ace the written and physical parts every time, but I can’t hit the target to save my life.”

Just as she started to regret telling him, Ash surprised her by saying, “Easy to fix.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve worked with experts, and it hasn’t helped. Actually, I think I’m getting worse.”

“You just haven’t had the right teacher.” He offered a wide smile, showing almost all his teeth. “How’s tomorrow?”

“Really? I don’t know if—”

“Come on, Samantha. You’ve proven yourself more than capable.”

“But—”

“I could use the practice. Plus, I owe you for saving my life last night.”

She glanced down at the oak table. Would it be worth the disappointment? She’d miss. She always did. And it would ruin the rest of her day.

But what if she didn’t?

That question hung in the air. A rushing river of emotions coursed through her body, before he added, “It’s the least I can do.”

…

See if anyone’s acting suspicious.

It was still hard to believe that any member of the BPD would work for a man like Viktor Heinrich. Especially since most of them knew her father had disappeared. But more because she couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly betray his brothers and sisters of the badge. His family.