Tempted by Fate (19 page)

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Then what were you doing at that bar with the blonde?” Her eyes widened, and she looked like she wanted to take the words right back.

He smiled slowly. The thought that she was jealous was satisfying. Foolishly so, but satisfying nonetheless. He fingered a long strand of her hair. “
Carrie
is just a friend.”

Willow snorted and yanked her head away to free her hair from his touch. “You don’t owe me anything, much less an explanation of your social life.”

“Tell me why you think your mother’s murder and the one at Bohemia are related.”

“His calling card. He left that star.” She looked him in the eye. “You have to admit not many people use throwing stars to take someone out.”

He extracted his notebook and made a note to check for identifying marks on the murder weapon. “When was your mother killed?”

“Twenty years ago. I’ve been tracking him since, but he’s always one step ahead.” She studied him, her gaze somber. “Did you sic your team on my room?”

“No.”

“Then the Bad Man did.” She exhaled as she watched one of the guys cart out a box, presumably with her things in it. “I think he’s setting me up to take the fall for that murder, and the murder of the other two men, one of whom worked for me, by the way. He must have somehow found out where I lived and called it in.”

The anonymous tip. Her theory was plausible, but he wasn’t ready to admit that. “If he knows where you’re staying, why wouldn’t he come after you himself?”

“Because this is the kind of game he likes to play.”

Ramirez made no comment. She seemed to believe what she was saying, and God knew he’d run into his share of sick bastards in his line of business.

“After they catalogue what I have in my room, you’re not going to believe me,” she said matter-of-factly. She turned to him, her eyes shining fervently. “I have a proposition for you.”

He went on alert. “What sort of proposition?”

“Don’t get your shorts in a wad.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to trade my body to you for my freedom.”

Choosing to ignore her trademark sarcasm, he waited to hear what she had to say.

“If you help me, I’ll lead you to the man responsible for the murders.” She leaned forward, her entire being behind her words. “He wants me. I don’t know why, but he’ll do anything to take me down. All you have to do is help me, and I’ll hand him to you.”

Something about that last sentence didn’t ring true, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. “How do I know you’re not really the killer? How do I know you won’t just run?”

“You don’t. You’ll have to trust me.” She looked at him directly, her eyes clear gray and full of honesty. “I’ll have to trust you, too, and that’s going to be just as hard for me. We’re in this boat together.”

He weighed the pros and cons. Strangely, he believed what she said—or rather that
she
believed what she was saying. It couldn’t hurt looking into it. But helping her would mean aiding and abetting a criminal, because that’s what she was at the moment. If he agreed to her proposal, he’d be putting himself and his career in jeopardy, not to mention compromising his beliefs. He did things by the book, and what she proposed went against everything he believed in.

Only then, he looked at her and saw the vulnerability she hid deep down. He remembered the way she felt, snug against his body, and for once in his life, he didn’t make a decision with his head but his heart. Muttering under his breath, he cranked the engine and put the car in drive.

“Where are we going?” she asked, the distrust evident in her voice.

He shot her a glare as he pulled out of the parking spot.
“If I find out you’re lying to me again, I’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”

She nodded slowly. “You didn’t say where we’re going.”

“Home.” May all Lita’s spirits help him.

W
illow leaned sideways in the passenger seat, facing Ramirez. The car didn’t allow for handcuffs, and her hands tingled with pins and needles from the circulation being restricted.

Ramirez didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked like he was chewing glass, and that made her grin for a second.

He said he was taking her home, but what did that mean? Was he going to help her? Hope lifted in her chest. What other reason would he have for taking her to his house?

Her cell vibrated. It’d been going crazy for the past hour. It had to be Morgan, but it wasn’t like she could answer it with her hands bound. She shifted her legs, conscious of how close it was to her already thrumming crotch.

Damn the cop. His slow frisk-tease had turned her on more than she wanted to admit.

“You’re staring,” he said, never taking his eyes from the road.

“Just wondering.”

“About?”

“If you do everything so precisely.”

He glanced at her. “Like?”

She nodded at the steering wheel. “Driving. Dressing. Working. Makes me wonder what else is included in the list.”

He raised his eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Willow thought wondering about
that
would get her in trouble. Instead, she laid her head against the back of the seat and said, “I think you’re perfect at everything. You follow the rules, cross your
t
’s and dot your
i
’s.”

“You make it sound unappealing.”

“Sometimes rules need to be broken. Sometimes being wild is so much more fun than being safe.”

He pulled into a parking spot, killed the ignition, and faced her. “Being wild has landed you in a lot of trouble.”

Didn’t she know it. But she shrugged and smiled, like she didn’t have a care in the world. “It always works out.”

He scowled at her, muttered something under his breath, and then came around to her side. Opening the door, he helped her out, rewrapped her in his coat, and turned her to face the car. “Why didn’t you tell me to uncuff you?”

“I was indulging you in your kink.” She felt him fiddling with the handcuffs. Suddenly her hands were free. Sighing in relief, she rotated her wrists and rolled her shoulders. When she faced him, he looked pissed, only this time at himself.

She reached out and played with his tie. “Don’t worry. Next time I’ll truss you up and then we’ll be even. I bet
you’d like it.” As she went to move past him, he caught her elbow and held her still. He searched her face, his expression stony. She wanted to ask him what he was looking for—she wanted to tell him whatever it was, he wouldn’t find it. But before she could do anything, he ran a finger down her cheek and across her lips.

The trail he mapped on her skin tingled. The sensation confused her, forcing her to rely on the only defense she had: being aloof. “Want to try it now? We can use this instead of the cold handcuffs. I’ll be gentle with you.”

His face flushed—with anger but also with desire. He grabbed her arms and shook her. “Look. If you want me to trust you, you’ve got to stop pretending to be someone you aren’t.”

Even though his grip was firm, she noted he took care not to hurt her. No one had cared about her in a long, long time. Feeling her lips tremble, she dropped her arms. “What makes you think I was pretending?”

“That was fake. This isn’t.” He gripped the back of her neck and brought her mouth to his.

His caring had weakened her, but his kiss was what made her crumble. It was achingly sweet, hitting an Achilles’ heel she didn’t know she had.

The softening began in her chest and spread through her body, until she was relaxed against the length of him. She didn’t know she had it in her to soften, much less to that extent.

It scared her.

Just as she was about to pull away to shore up her defenses again, his hand tightened in her hair. His lips and tongue became insistent. Impassioned.

Scorching.

She felt the roughness of his beard growth, reminding her of bark’s pleasant scratching. She tasted how much he wanted her, in the flick of his tongue against hers. She smelled the scent of their lust, verdant and earthy, and felt herself melt into him some more.

Ramirez broke away first. Breathing heavily, he gazed into her eyes. “Come inside.”

It was a request and command all at once. She thought about what he might do to her in the privacy of his home. He wouldn’t play dirty, but he’d be thorough. Just the thought made her already damp panties wetter.

Fear shot through her. She didn’t need this kind of complication. Not now. Not ever.

“Come inside, Willow,” he said again. His thumb caressed a spot just under her ear, next to her jaw.

Shocks of electricity shot through her body, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Barely nodding, she let him lead her to his home. They walked up the set of steps at the side of the house, to the second story. He unlocked the door and guided her into the kitchen. Flipping on an overhead light, he loosened his tie.

She watched him unbutton the top of his shirt, mesmerized by the patch of dark skin revealed. Low on the right side of his neck there was a tattoo of what appeared to be a series of concentric circles fanning out in waves.

She nodded at it. “Is that regulation, Starsky?”

“It’s youthful folly, before I went into the force.” Tugging his collar aside, he bared his neck for her.

At the edge of the circles was a stylized spider, simply done in crisp, solid black, stark even against his dark skin. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers along
the smooth lines. “An unusual choice. Do you have a thing for arachnids?”

“I got it to remind me of my grandmother’s wisdom. She used to tell me that we live in a web of our own weaving. It’s a hard lesson to learn.”

Was he talking about himself? She wanted to ask, but she had the impression he wouldn’t appreciate how much she knew of his past.

Ramirez tapped his neck. “This is a visual reminder, that we control what we get caught up in through our own decisions and actions.”

She studied the tattoo, conscious of the soft inhale-exhale of his breath close to her ear. “What about outside forces?”

“Like fate?”

Like the Bad Man, but Willow just shrugged. “Sure. Your grandmother believes in it.”

“She has many beliefs I can’t share.”

By his tone and the way he was watching her, it seemed like there was hidden meaning to his words. She had no idea what he could mean, though. “So are you caught up in your own web, Inspector?”

He smiled faintly and righted his collar. “My grandmother thinks so.”

Realizing she was still staring at his neck, she looked away, blushing, and pretended to check out the kitchen. What an idiot, getting excited over a little glimpse of neck. It wasn’t like she was a virginal Victorian chick.

Ramirez, thankfully, had no clue about her thoughts. He gestured to a short hallway beyond an archway. “This way.”

Good, a distraction. Following him, she noted the pristine
kitchen. There was no sign of what one expected of a bachelor residence—no food-crusted dishes piled around the sink, no discarded take-out boxes cluttering the counters. It was simple and fastidiously clean, but still warm and inviting. Was this his grandmother’s doing or his own?

She took notice of the potted plant in the hallway. To the right, there was a spacious living room. It was too dark to check out, but she bet it was every bit as perfect as the kitchen. Beyond it, she saw a set of stairs, which was where Ramirez was headed.

“This isn’t like any bachelor pad I’ve ever seen,” she commented casually as she trailed after him. The only time regular guys were this clean was if they had a woman in their life. Who that woman was burned a hole in her chest.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Been in many bachelor pads?”

“A few.” Although they’d all been assignments. She’d never gone to a guy’s place for anything intimate. That got too personal. But she’d let Ramirez think whatever he wanted, especially because she knew he’d never accept the truth. “Do you have maid service, or is this your grandmother’s doing?”

He turned around on the top step and stared at her knowingly. Finally he said, “There’s no woman, Willow. There hasn’t been in a long time.”