Born Wild Page 4

  “Yeah, yeah,” Billy’s tone was bored. “You’ll beat me longer and harder than you beat that gherkin-sized dick of yours. I get it.”

  Jeremy took a step in Billy’s direction, but Eve stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Remember you insulted him first,” she whispered.

  “He’s a dickwad,” Jeremy hissed.

  “More technical terminology, I’m assuming,” Billy mused, brow raised, sardonic grin on his lips.

  Eve decided it was time to get the heck out of Dodge. Which brought her around to the second reason why she’d stopped by Jeremy’s condo. “I, uh…” She hesitated. Because her dear, sweet cousin was already upset by her decision to leave his protection in favor of the Knights’ and she didn’t want to prick his ego further with her next request—he was big and cocky and all about playing the hero, which made it sort of funny that he and Billy didn’t get along because they were so very much alike—but she didn’t see any way around it. Jeremy had done everything he could to prove she wasn’t just being paranoid about her growing list of “accidents.” Now it was time to let someone else take a stab at it. “I need my case files,” she finally blurted.

  Jeremy’s chin jerked back. “What? Why?”

  “Because we’ve got an ex-FBI agent working for us,” Billy answered, still staring out the balcony door in narrow-eyed concentration. “And he might be able to see something in her files that you and your fellow CPD boys couldn’t.”

  “Yeah, and I might be onboard with that except the part where this guy is an ex,” he stressed the word, frowning, “FBI agent.”

  Eve stepped in before the two of them could start slinging insults again. Grabbing her cousin’s arm, she looked up at him imploringly, “Please, Jeremy. You’ve done everything you know to do and—”

  “I could try to talk to my captain again,” he interrupted. “I could—”

  “Get yourself fired,” Eve said, shaking her head. “Your captain has had enough. He agrees with the fire department and the investigator on the case. There’s no evidence. You can’t keep harping on him. You can’t keep questioning his judgment. He’s the only true friend you’ve got down at that station. Believe me, you don’t want to mess with that.”

  The fact that Jeremy had chosen to become a police officer when he’d inherited enough money to keep him footloose and fancy free for life had caused more than a few problems for him at work. Most cops, who struggled to get by from paycheck to paycheck, couldn’t understand why Jeremy chose to risk his life on the force every day instead of whiling away his hours on a beach. But Eve understood. A person needed a purpose, something worth waking up for every morning. And Jeremy’s purpose was to be a hero…

  She watched his cheeks hollow and his chin twitch from side to side as he considered her words. Then he cursed, and she knew she’d won.

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll go get them.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, his expensive cologne tickling her nose. “And I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know how things are going.”

  “You sure you want to do this?” he pressed, searching her face.

  Um, no? She didn’t want to do any of it. What she wanted was a char-free condo and a Vespa that had brakes, but those two things were no longer options.

  “I’ll be fine,” she assured him, avoiding his question. “I trust the Black Knights to keep me safe. Plus,” and she was going to go straight to hell for this lie, but she knew it would go a long way in easing her cousin’s misgivings, “Becky will there.”

  A hint of relief flashed behind his eyes. “Okay,” he nodded. “But if things change, or if you catch too much flak from that one,” again he jerked his chin toward Billy, “then you call me.”

  “I will.” She smiled, squeezing his arm and taking a deep breath before shouldering her purse and overnight bag.

  A warm breeze wafted into the condo when Billy opened the balcony door, bringing with it the hot smell of summer, of fresh-cut grass, heavily blooming flowers, and steaming pavement. It ruffled Billy’s thick, dark hair like playful fingers. But somehow he still managed to pull off that whole mean and menacing thing. Which was good, she supposed. Because mean and menacing was exactly the kind of man she needed right now. And, perhaps, if she was honest with herself, it was the kind of man she’d needed all along. Or more specifically, he was the kind of man she’d needed all along. It crushed her to think about all she’d lost that night during her freshman year in college when she finally caved to her father’s wishes and agreed to go out with Robert Parish’s son, Blake.

  One night out with the big-time land-developer’s pride-and-joy had changed her life. Forever…

  “When we reach the street, I want you to stay behind me,” Billy murmured once she’d crossed the room to him, wrenching her from her unpleasant thoughts.

  “Why?” When she glanced up into his hard, handsome face, she didn’t like what she saw there. She figured this was probably the expression he wore during those times he was knee-deep inside the wiry innards of an IED.

  And, yes, it still blew her mind to know that Billy’d spent nearly a decade either making things go kaboom or disarming things that went kaboom.

  Talk about having a set of brass balls. Geez Louise.

  “There’s a car parked on the street out front,” he said, his voice disconcertingly calm, especially when compared to his I-eat-metal-shavings-for-lunch expression. “There’s someone in the front seat…watching this condo.” A chill snaked up her spine despite the heat of the day. “I can’t make out who it is. Jeremy,” he raised his voice when Jeremy reentered the room with a manila file folder tucked up under his arm, “you carrying?”

  “Of course.” Her cousin jogged over to them, instantly on alert. See, they were so much alike. “What’s up?”

  “See that black SUV parked across the street?”

  “Yeah,” Jeremy nodded after craning his head through the open door. “What’s the score?”

  The atmosphere was vibrating with masculine tension, and Eve fancied she could actually taste the testosterone hanging in the air like a mist.

  “The score is someone’s real interested in this place, and I want to make sure whoever it is doesn’t get a shot at Eve,” Billy said. The last part of his sentence made her dizzy.

  A shot at her…

  He was afraid someone was out there ready to take a shot at her!

  Holy crap, this was just too surreal. She’d never done anything to anyone. At least not something that would warrant an extra hole in her head. In fact, the only instance where she could recall being purposefully mean to someone was that time in kindergarten when she ripped up Curtis Forsythe’s Thanksgiving craft project—the turkey made from his handprint and construction paper—because he kept pulling her pigtails.

  But, surely that wasn’t enough to deserve a bullet in the brain…

  “Once we’re downstairs, we’re going to edge out the front door, keeping Eve behind us until we make the Hummer,” Billy instructed. “When we’re on our way, if that Chevy takes off after us, which I’m pretty sure it will, I want you to use your connections with the CPD to run the plates.”

  “You don’t think it’d be better to leave Eve up here? Let you and me go down there and question this fucker?”

  “Nope,” Billy shook his head, causing a dark brown lock to fall across his wide forehead.

  And, great. Now was not the time to be thinking of how incredibly sexy he was, to be remembering what it felt like to run her fingers through his silky hair after it’d been warmed by the summer sun and tousled by a friendly breeze, but there you go. Because those were the exact thoughts scrolling through her head.

  For Pete’s sake, Eve. Even after all the nasty things he’s said to you in the past year, you still get all gooey-bellied and jelly-kneed around him? What the heck is the matte
r with you?

  She refused to contemplate the answer to that question. She had enough on her plate right now without dealing with her ever-present feelings for one William Wesley Reichert.

  Case in point…“I want to find out who this is without them knowing we’re on to them,” Billy told Jeremy. “So we’re going to stroll out there, calm as you please, like you’re just seeing us out. Savvy?”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” Jeremy snorted, playing off Billy’s Jack Sparrow jargon as they turned for the door.

  And, huzzah! Eve mentally patted herself on the back for picking up on that reference, because she wasn’t much of a moviegoer. As a girl, her father hadn’t liked the idea of her sitting in a darkened theater where anyone and everyone with an eye toward ransom could sneak up and grab her. And then, after she’d become an adult, a single adult, sitting alone in the gloom, eating too-salty popcorn while being surrounded by all those starry-eyed couples just reminded her of everything she’d lost when she’d lost Billy.

  But in this case, she was well-schooled on Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack lingo because after having been held hostage by Somali pirates, Becky’d thought it would be a hoot to hold a Pirates of the Caribbean movie marathon—complete with eye patches, fake parrots, and little chocolates in the shape of gold coins. So Eve could “who drank all the rum?” and “I’ve got a jar of dirt!” right along with the best of them.

  Of course, not even good ol’ Johnny Depp could bring more than a short-lived smile to her lips right then because the fact remained that she was in danger. Maybe imminent danger. She gnawed on her bottom lip during the too-short elevator ride to the bottom floor. Then, after they’d shuffled across the well-appointed lobby, it was time for the show. Or maybe the showdown was the better way to put it.

  Oh geez. Oh geez…

  She repeated the mantra like a pathetic prayer when they edged out the front door as a unit, Jeremy and Billy creating a wall of living flesh in front of her. She instinctively grabbed the back of Billy’s waistband, hooking her fingers into a belt loop and marveling at the warmth of him, at the sheer strength of the muscles in his lower back as they bunched with his steps and brushed across her knuckles. It was the first time she’d touched him in months. And, okay, so she could admit she’d missed his nearness waayyy more than she should have, especially considering how things stood between them. But she could also admit that while the sensation of his hard flesh against the back of her hand was titillating, it was also comforting. Giving her the strength to keep from faltering as they crossed the street to the parked Hummer.

  “Get ready to open the door, Eve,” Billy instructed quietly once they’d made it to the vehicle. He and Jeremy body-blocked her from the suspicious SUV’s direct line of sight. Then, a chirp-chirp emanated from the big Hummer, and she knew he’d unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm system with the key fob in the hand that wasn’t snaked behind his hip, palming the handgun he kept hidden there. Gulp. “Okay, now jump on in there, and don’t be shy about it.”

  She wished she could say she hopped-to without hesitation. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. For some reason she couldn’t explain, maybe it was momentary panic or a bout of fleeting hysteria or…the fact that she didn’t want to let go of Billy and the comfort his nearness provided, but she froze. For just a second. But it was long enough for Billy turn to her, his expression so soft, the light in his eyes so warm that she almost forgot how precarious her situation was and melted into a puddle of hormonal slop right there on the pavement.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he crooned in a low voice, the endearment jolting her like a shock from an electric eel. “Go ahead and hop in.”

  It took a second more for her to snap out of her trance—I really am a sad sack, aren’t I?—but then she hurried to do as she was instructed. Heaving open the heavy door and jumping up into the mammoth vehicle, she quickly tossed her bags onto the back seat. The heat inside the Hummer had sweat popping out all over her skin and trickling in an itchy line between her breasts, but that was nothing compared to the fire in her heart.

  Sweetheart…Oh, how she’d loved to hear that word on his lips that summer and—

  For the love of all that’s holy, pull your head out of your butt! Someone might be waiting back there to kill you!

  Okay, and that was the voice of sanity yanking her from her reverie. And, yep, perhaps she should listen to it.

  Shaking her head at herself, she watched as Billy skirted the front of the vehicle before wrenching open the driver’s side door and hopping inside, bringing with him the smell of sunshine, leather, Irish Spring soap, and man.

  Before she had a chance to utter one word, he leaned over, yanked her seatbelt tight across her lap and started the big engine. Throwing the monster vehicle into gear, he slowly—slowly?—pulled out onto Jeremy’s street as adrenaline coursed through her system, making her brain fizz. At the stop light on the corner, she swiveled in her seat and tried to peer out the heavily tinted back window to see behind them. But there was something strapped there. Narrowing her eyes against the dimness of the hot interior, she wondered if that was a….? Yep, that was most definitely a gun rack. A gun rack with two short-barreled shotguns attached to it.

  Double gulp.

  Facing forward once again, she scooted down in her seat to try to use the side rearview to see—

  “You’re gonna give yourself whiplash if you keep flopping around like that,” Billy commented, cool as can be over there, which only managed to redline her own anxiety.

  “Is it behind us? That black Chevy? Is it following us?” she asked breathlessly. The air conditioner was blowing full blast on her heated cheeks, but it did little to mitigate the stagnant air inside the Hummer.

  “Indeed it is,” Bill said like one might say indeed the sun is shining.

  What the huh? How could he remain so unruffled when there was a mysterious black SUV following them? Possibly being driven by the very person who’d been trying to eighty-six her for months?

  Oh yeah, because he did this sort of thing for a living. Which was the whole reason why she’d run to him in the first place.

  Okay Eve, she coached herself, taking a deep, cleansing breath, get it under control. You’re in good hands.

  And just the thought had her glancing over at the steering wheel, where Bill’s broad, tan hands handled the huge Hummer as gently and as easily as a little girl handles a puppy.

  She’d always loved his hands. So big, so…capable looking. With long, knobby fingers, square nail beds, and tough calluses, his hands had always made her feel safe, secure…protected. Looking at them now reminded her of the first time he kissed her…

  They’d just come back from a day on the water where she’d taught him how to captain the little Daysailer her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday. She’d been feeling awfully proud of herself for having instructed the big, handsome petty officer on anything. But after they’d stepped off the boat and onto the dock and he’d turned to her? You better believe she’d known by the look in his eyes that her time as teacher was over. His expression had clearly conveyed that he had a thing or two to show her.

  And, boy, oh boy, had he ever…

  Even now she could recall the exact feel of his broad, callused palms cupping her cheeks, remember the sensation of his rough thumb hooked gently beneath her jaw, guiding her head this way and that as his tongue learned the secrets of her mouth, licked and laved and sucked until she forgot her own name and—

  “Calm down, Eve,” Billy instructed, and she realized not only was she staring at his hands, she was also panting like she’d just surfaced from a skin dive. “This vehicle is armored and the glass is bulletproof. You’re safe in here.”

  And curses! There she’d gone again. Completely forgetting the critical nature of her situation because she was overcome by a combination of painfully hot memories and Billy’s ne
arness.

  Sheesh. Too much more of that, and she should seriously consider getting her head examined. Maybe that launch into the air back at the marina and the resultant splashdown in Lake Michigan had flash-frozen her gray matter.

  “That’s not—” She abruptly stopped herself and shook her head. “I’m fine. I just don’t understand why you’re not trying to lose them?” They were creeping along at a snail’s pace, like they were out taking a flippin’ Sunday drive as opposed to trying to shake the person tailing them. “Do you need me to drive?”

  She wasn’t good a lot of things. She couldn’t draw or sing or hold her liquor. She sucked at baking cakes—they never seemed to rise—and public speaking scared the ever-lovin’ crap out of her. But when her father signed her up for defensive driving lessons with an ex-Hollywood stuntman after she’d started having issues with Dale the Stalker? Well, not to toot her own horn or anything—toot, toot—but she’d taken to the endeavor like she’d been born an Andretti.

  However, the look Billy sent her questioned the validity of her most recent IQ test.

  Indignation burned. “Didn’t Becky tell you how good I was down in Costa Rica?” she demanded. And, yes, a little more than six months ago she’d helped Billy and the rest of the Black Knights clear the name of one of their own by leading the CIA on a wild car chase. Which, let’s face it, still felt more like a dream set in Bizarro Land than an actual series of events…

  But it had happened and she had done her part—huzzah!—and it was beyond irritating that even after all of that, Billy still didn’t give her the credit she so richly deserved. And when he refused to wipe that disbelieving smirk from his face, she slapped a palm against the hot dashboard. “Stop looking at me like that! I’m an excellent driver!”

  He rolled in his lips as he casually—oh-so-flippin’ casually—stopped at a red light. “I know you are, Rain Man,” he said, and it only irked her more when she didn’t get that particular reference. “But I don’t want to lose them. I want them to stick with us until your cousin calls to let us know who they are. Then we can decide how to handle the situation.”