Operation Power Play Read online

  The second man was looking more bored with every passing second. Mead was eyeing Brett, at first frowning at his news but then appearing thoughtful.

  “Why don’t you—”

  He stopped as a buzzing sound issued from his breast pocket. Mead reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a phone. Brett couldn’t hear the caller, but the administrator’s expression and body language weren’t hard to interpret. The man wasn’t happy.

  His own phone chirped again. He took it out for a quick glance.

  Think it wkd. Asst just made a call. Lking at us.

  “Exes,” he muttered as cover as he quickly tapped out an answer.

  Did. I’m a go.

  Mead ordered the hapless Perkins to get the damned situation under control, then shoved the phone with some energy back into his pocket.

  “I thought I was rid of that bitch,” he snapped. Then he looked at Brett. “Thank you, Detective. You were absolutely right. She and her little band of miscreants are already there, causing trouble.”

  Brett shook his head as if in disgust. “Why doesn’t she just give up?” he said, thinking all the while that if there was anyone less likely to give up than Sloan, he didn’t know them.

  The blond was getting impatient, Brett could sense. But he didn’t shift his gaze, because Mead was looking at him more pensively now. Assessingly. For a moment Brett was on the edge of speaking, but his instincts told him to wait. Better if the idea came from Mead. His hunch paid off a moment later.

  “You said you talked to her,” Mead began.

  “Perhaps I wasn’t...forceful enough to make it permanent.” His tone was purposely suggestive, and he saw Mead pick up on it.

  “Perhaps,” the man agreed. “It might take more.”

  “I’m on my own time at the moment.” He poured on a little more oily eagerness and faux respect. “But I’d be happy to try again if you want, sir. I could push harder this time.”

  Mead pretended to consider it, but Brett saw in his eyes that he’d already decided. “I’d appreciate that, Detective. Would you like to ride down there with me now?”

  Brett pretended to consider in turn, then shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate being closed up in a car with this guy anyway.

  “Let me go first, see if I can get her and her gang cleared out before you even arrive. Don’t want you and protest signs in the same photograph plastered around.”

  “I like the way you think, Detective,” Mead said with an easy, practiced smile that belied his earlier anger. “You get this Sloan Burke off my back, and we’ll have to have a talk about your future.”

  Brett didn’t miss the implied promise. Wondered what kind of future there would be for the man who latched on to these coattails. He wondered, but only with the tiny part of his mind that wasn’t occupied with the other knowledge that had just blasted through him.

  The tall silent man had reacted, unmistakably and strongly, the moment Mead had said her name. He knew who Sloan was. And had known before she had ever crashed onto Mead’s radar.

  And it sent a chill through Brett. He didn’t know why, as she had said herself her identity and her past were no secret. But something about the way this man’s eyes had gone cold, and about the size of his reaction, screamed a warning. Because for that instant, before he masked the response, Brett knew exactly what he was looking at.

  A predator.

  One who had just spotted potential prey.

  Chapter 24

  “Just trust me, please?” Sloan asked as her group gathered around her, puzzled by her seemingly meek capitulation. “It’s all part of a bigger plan. And thank you so much for coming out. Coffee at The Mug is on me.”

  “Heads up,” Brett said softly, low enough the others couldn’t hear. “Perkins is headed this way.”

  She nodded as the small group began to scatter. They did trust her, so they were going, but they looked a bit doubtful. She hoped she could explain one day. She felt Brett’s hand on her arm just above the elbow.

  “If you don’t want to talk here,” he said in a tone that was not only louder but decidedly ominous, “then we can go to the county lockup and chat there.”

  His shift was so sudden, so smooth, that it took her aback for a moment. On some level she realized her expression was probably exactly what he’d hoped for, as Mead’s pale, twitchy assistant reached them.

  “You going to arrest her?” He sounded satisfied at the idea. “About time.”

  “She’s going to come along quietly, isn’t she?” Brett’s tone was smooth, condescending. She resisted the urge to snap something back at him, knowing he was only playing a part.

  “Do you have any idea how much I hate being referred to in the third person?”

  “As much as anyone, I’d guess,” he said in that same tone, as if he were calming an upset child. He was so good at this, at being an entirely different kind of person, it was a little unnerving. “So don’t make me use it.”

  “Make you!” She couldn’t help it—her voice rose. “The problem is yours, mister, not mine.” She made a show of trying to pull free. Brett pulled her back, but she noticed his fingers didn’t dig in, merely wrapped around her arm and tugged. Caused no pain but looked as if he were jerking her around.

  “Hush.” He looked at Perkins. “Call your boss. Tell him it’s all clear and that I’ll talk to him later.”

  “Right away.” A smirk crossed that pale face, as if the man was certain now what he was dealing with. He thought Brett was one of them, Sloan realized. Thought he would sell out his principles for whatever Mead could do for him. She was a little surprised at how certain she was that he would never even think about such a thing. Just as she’d been about Jason.

  She muttered something under her breath for effect. It worked. Perkins smirked at her this time.

  “My car this time,” Brett said as they walked away. “It needs to look official. We’ll get your car later.”

  “It’s okay. I rode down with one of the others.”

  And so again she found herself sitting in that car with the shotgun above the windshield. It made her a little edgy until, when he pulled away from the waterfront, a tennis ball rolled out from under the seat. That made her smile, and she reached down to pick it up.

  “How is he?” She glanced at the clock on the dash.

  “No doubt waiting by the door for me to get home and put my shoulder out of whack throwing that ball for him.”

  His tone was wry, but she saw something in his face, a slight curve of one corner of his mouth, that made her say quietly, “Not so bad, having someone waiting for you.”

  “Different,” he said.

  That stirred up feelings she thought she’d managed to tamp down. And again words she hadn’t planned on saying slipped out. “Do you like it?”

  He flicked her a sideways glance. “Not used to it.”

  “Why?”

  The glance was longer this time, as if she’d startled him. “Pretty personal question.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “I have lots of them, it seems.”

  “Why?” he asked in turn.

  “Because you tangle me up,” she said in a tone that matched his earlier one for wryness.

  “Sloan...”

  “You should tend to Cutter.”

  “Yes. I’ll take you home first.”

  “Don’t. I’d like to see the rascal again.”

  There was a long moment of silence before he said, his voice low, “Are you asking to come home with me?”

  She drew in a deep breath as she considered all the possible aspects of that question. She glanced at him, saw in the tightness of his jaw and the way he was staring at the road ahead as if it were a freeway in downtown LA that he’d meant just what she thought he ha
d. A memory of that kiss suddenly rose up and nearly swamped her with heat and need. She hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. Not since Jason.

  I will have died for nothing if you live alone and unhappy.

  She supposed it was strange to have her husband’s words urging her toward another man. She doubted Brett would appreciate that she was thinking of him now. But she knew Jason had meant it, just as fiercely as he had loved her.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I believe I am.”

  The silence was longer this time. She sensed his tension, wondered what he was thinking.

  “Brett—”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  His voice was harsh, tight. He wanted no misunderstanding, she thought. And who would know better how people misunderstood, and turned their lives into chaos, than a cop?

  “Is your next question ‘Are you sure?’”

  “It should be. Because if the answer to that is no, then the answer to everything is no.”

  It was like another check mark on a list she hadn’t even known she was keeping. He meant it. If she wasn’t certain, then as far as he was concerned, the answer was no. No coaxing, no trying to get past her doubts with smooth talk.

  “If I wasn’t sure, you could fix that, you know.”

  He blinked. “I could?”

  “Kiss me again. If it’s anything like before...”

  Her voice trailed off. She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

  “Damn. It’s all I’ve thought about since.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” she said. “This would be really embarrassing if it was just me.”

  “You’ve got about twenty minutes to change your mind.”

  She wondered if he’d meant to sound so grim, but she didn’t ask. But she was curious. “Twenty?” They were at least a half an hour from his place.

  “Last drugstore,” he said.

  It took her a moment, but when she understood what he meant, she decided silence was her best course. She’d said more than enough. But she couldn’t help feeling a warmth inside her at this proof that he didn’t make a habit of this, and that he hadn’t gone out and stocked up on protection just on the chance.

  He was as unprepared as she was. She’d made a decision she’d had no intention of making, not now, not ever. But somehow this man had changed all that. She was still alive, and for the first time she truly understood what Jason had said, that if she lived only in memories, if she stayed withdrawn from the part of life that had given her so much joy, then he’d died for nothing. Because it was that life he’d fought for. Died for. Not just for her but for everyone.

  And in his way, Brett fought that same battle on a smaller front.

  She felt a twinge, a reminder that she’d sworn never to get involved with another protector, another warrior who risked his life for others. But what was she to do when that was the only kind of man who stirred her?

  So have sex with him, enjoy it and keep your heart out of it.

  She nearly laughed as the words went through her mind. That would be the way some women she knew would approach it and would be the advice they would give her. And had, a couple of times. But she knew herself, knew deep down that she wasn’t made that way. She was incapable of keeping her heart out of it. She could guard it, protect it, limit its involvement, but letting a man into her body without giving him at least some tiny part of her heart? Not in her.

  Maybe that was the answer to why this was the only kind of man who tempted her. The kind of man who would never abuse that gift, even if he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—give it in return.

  She sat silently as he drove, pondering the oddity of learning something new about herself at a time when she would have thought she knew herself pretty well.

  “Sloan?”

  She snapped out of her reverie. Realized where they were. That last drugstore. “Haven’t changed my mind,” she said softly.

  They had to break the momentum to give Cutter a necessary couple of minutes, but the dog was back so fast she had no time for second thoughts. But once inside, it was clearly Brett who was in a hurry. And from the moment he shut the door, grabbed her and kissed her, so was she. All the reasons she was here came flooding back on the tide of heat and want he roused in her. His mouth was hot, demanding, and when he pulled back for an instant, she heard a tiny sound of protest that she nearly didn’t realize had come from her.

  “You’re su—”

  “Yes.” She cut him off before he got the word out. And then he took her breath away all over again by sweeping her up in his arms. At five-six she was not a small woman, but he did it easily.

  It was more of the alcove she’d guessed at than a bedroom, and most of it was taken up by a closet and the large bed. He’d chosen sleeping space over walking space, and given his height, she understood. There was a book on a carved wooden chair that apparently served as both seat and nightstand, since there was no room for anything else. A pole lamp like the one in the main room arched over that side of the bed, telling her he read there. On the single free wall was a framed photograph of Mount Rainier at sunrise, the brilliant orange-and-pink sky made even more striking by the dramatic slash of dark shadow the mountain itself cast across the brightening sky. She wondered if he’d taken it and what it said about him if he had.

  Beyond that, the room was utilitarian, tidy. No distractions from its intended purpose.

  At least, its intended purpose until now. When he set her down next to the bed, she felt oddly as if she’d forgotten how to stand. He reached out to cup her face.

  “I was going to apologize for the plainness of the room,” he said softly. “But it’s not plain at all anymore.”

  She felt the heat in her cheeks that he seemed to cause in her so easily. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “There’s never been one here.”

  That made her breath stop in her throat. This time she kissed him.

  That quickly, she was frantic. She wasn’t sure what she’d imagined the few times she’d dared to let her imagination go this far. But it wasn’t the mad, heedless rush she was caught up in now. Now that it was here, she wanted no slow, gentle seduction, no slow build, no long slow caresses. Because in truth this had been building since the first day this man had stepped into her life. She’d waited so long to feel again that now that she was on fire with it, she didn’t want to wait any longer. Couldn’t wait. She wanted this man’s skin against hers; she wanted her arms around him, wanted to be completely tangled up in him in a way she’d never been before.

  The fumbling with clothes wasn’t awkward; it only proved he’d been honest about how long it had been. And that heightened the need until she almost moaned aloud even before he pulled her, naked, into his arms. The thought flashed through her rapidly fogging mind that this could be life changing, and all her self-warnings about keeping her heart out of it were nothing more than the faint, distant foghorns she sometimes heard rolling up from the sound.

  They went down to the bed together. Hands collided as they touched, stroked; heads bumped as they both tried to kiss every uncovered inch. Yet it wasn’t awkward, at least not to her. She was far beyond feeling awkward. She was feeling consumed by the need that kept growing, surging inside her.

  She traced the muscles of his back, marveling at the power there. His hands reached her breasts, cupped them. Helplessly she arched upward. His mouth followed, first teasing, then drawing her nipples into searing wet heat, and she nearly cried out as need cramped her.

  Then something changed. She realized Brett seemed to be trying to slow down, and she shook her head. “No,” she gasped. “Hurry.”

  “I’m getting a little crazy here,” he warned, his voice thick.

  “Good. Oh, good,” sh
e gasped out, trying to urge him on with her hands.

  “Slow next time,” he muttered.

  Yes, next time. She liked the sound of that.

  He was on top of her, a solid, strong weight that made her body ripple in anticipation. She reached to guide him, the hot, silken feel of him sending another ripple of heat through her. He groaned at her touch, as if he’d felt the same thing, and the harsh sound urged her on.

  And then he was sliding into her, and she cried out. It was difficult at first; her body was unused to this. He hesitated, but she clutched at his back, then slid her hands down to the taut backside she’d so admired when he was running and pulled him forward. He made that sound again, and this time it escalated to a sharp groan of her name as he slid into her, filling the empty place she’d carried for so long. Her cry of his name blended with his voice, joining them in that way, too.

  He was moving inside her, stroking with an urgency that answered her own. All thought of easing into it this first time was burned away as the heat built, flared. With every slam of his body into hers her mind screamed, “Yes, yes, yes,” until it was no longer just her mind and the cries echoed in the small room.

  He drove home one more time, and she felt it begin. She clutched at him, desperate to hang on. She was alive, so alive, and in this moment she let go all reservations, letting herself take the joy so long denied.

  And then her body launched, exploding into a pulsing, searing flight that made her cry out his name again. And again it blended with his guttural shout of her name in turn, and she knew on some deep, long-buried level that life changing was definitely the term for this.

  Chapter 25

  He woke up alone and for a moment thought last night had been a vivid, searingly erotic dream. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first one he’d had since a certain headstrong dog had led him up the proverbial garden path.

  He blinked and raised himself up on one elbow. There was just enough light in the room to see the tangled bedcovers. And he didn’t need the light to catch the lingering scent of her, that sweet aroma that reminded him of the purple flowers his mother used to grow on a windowsill.