He stared at her nipples where they poked against the thin cotton fabric of her top.
Sophia realized she was just standing there with the backs of her hands still pressed
against the wall even though he was no longer holding her. It had to be the lack of sleep
that was making her act this way. Lowering her arms, she crossed them over her chest.
Not that she had much to cover, but it was the principle of the thing.
"I need to go get dressed," she muttered. She needed the protective armor of her
clothing to face this man.
She turned to head to the bedroom, but he stopped her in her tracks without even
touching her. "Please," he whispered softly. "I just want to talk." Reaching into the back
pocket of his jeans, he drew out a slim leather wallet and opened it, displaying a badge.
Leaning closer, she stared at it, her eyes narrowing. "That says you're a New York
cop." She took a cautious step backward, although where she thought she was going,
she didn't know. He was already inside her apartment and had had plenty of
opportunity to hurt her if that was his intention. "Why is a New York cop interested in
a death in New Orleans?"
"Now that's the question, isn't it?"
Chapter Three
Zane stared at Sophia, unable to tear his gaze away from her as he slipped his
badge back into his pocket. He could see the caution tinged with distrust as she
narrowed her eyes, studying him. Pale green. Her eyes were the softest pale green he'd
ever seen, making her appear even more like a fairy from a child's book of tales. But if
she was a fairy, she was damn sure the queen. There was nothing soft or ethereal in the
way she regarded him. If she'd had the strength, he was sure he'd be out on his ass
right now. He rubbed his fingers over his face, hiding a grin behind his hand.
Her eyes narrowed further as if she suspected he was laughing at her, but she said
nothing. He'd been right about her lips. They were soft and plump and he'd barely
resisted the impulse to nip at them. Instead he'd contented himself with just touching
them with his tongue, tasting them with his mouth. As kisses went, it had barely gotten
started, but it had been the most erotic kiss of his entire life.
"Why don't we sit down?" He kept his voice low, unthreatening. His eyes were
drawn to where her arms were still crossed over her chest. When he'd had her pressed
back against the wall, he'd felt the hard nubs of her breasts pressing against his chest.
He wanted to strip that thin tank top over her head and feast on her flesh. She wasn't
very large, but he had a feeling that she'd be very sensitive. He wanted to know if her
nipples were the same dusky pink as her lips.
"Let's not," she snapped, dropping her arms by her side. "Have a good look, ask
your questions and then get out."
He knew she'd meant to make him feel guilty or ashamed for staring at her chest,
but he felt neither of those things. Instead, taking her at her word, he took his time,
slowly perusing her body from top to bottom. His eyes burned as he studied the V at
the top of her thighs. Was she wet for him? He'd bet anything that if he slipped his
hands inside her drawstring pants and pushed aside her panties, he'd find her soft folds
slick with need.
"Oh, for God's sake, is this junior high?" The disgust in her tone brought his gaze
back to hers.
He shrugged, totally unrepentant. "You offered." Her cheeks were tinged a light
red and he realized that she was blushing. He'd been right about the freckles too. She
only had a couple, but they were there, scattered like fairy dust on either side of her
nose.
"We both know there's not much to see, so can we get on with the questions?"
Turning on her heel, she spun around and stomped over to a chair in the corner. At
least she tried to stomp. It wasn't easy for a woman to stomp when she was wearing
soft slippers with, if he wasn't mistaken, puppy-dog heads.
"I beg to differ." He sauntered into the room behind her and sat on the low coffee
table in front of her. "There is definitely plenty to see and most of it is quite
spectacular." He had no idea why he was teasing her, flirting with her in this way. Not
only was it totally inappropriate, but it was also totally out of character for him. There
was something inside him that wanted her to know just how beautiful he found her.
Somehow he knew that she hadn't heard those words much in her lifetime and that was
a crime. There was something about her that left him feeling almost lightheaded with
She snorted at him as she sat back and crossed her legs. Leaning her elbows on the
arms of the chair, she steepled her fingers and eyed him thoughtfully. "Is this related to
any case in New York?"
He could almost see the wheels of her head turning and knew she was thinking
serial killer. He shook his head. "Nope. I used to be a cop here and this is of personal
interest to me."
Her face paled and she leaned forward. "Were you a friend of the victim?"
Her immediate sympathy made his stomach clench. "No." He shook his head again.
"But I think it might be related to some other incidents that happened several years
ago."
"Tell me." All signs of sympathy were gone from her voice, replaced by her
clipped, no-nonsense voice. This was no Southern belle, but a transplanted Yankee. He
wondered how she'd ended up so far south.
"It's confidential and, at this point, circumstantial. No one else is considering this
angle but me." Her chin tilted up and her lips thinned. She was stubborn, no doubt
about it. He could easily sneak back into her home when she was asleep tonight and
check her computer and her files, but for some unknown reason, he wanted her to
freely share any information she had with him.
"Not good enough." She kicked her foot absently as she studied him, making the
dog's ears on her slipper wave back and forth. He grinned, unable to stop himself. Her
eyes followed his and she swore as she uncrossed her legs and set her foot firmly on the
floor. "They were a present from a friend, okay?"
"They're cute. They suit you." And he realized that they did. There was something
soft and cuddly about the slippers that suited her.
"That's what she said too." She went back to business immediately. "What do you
know about this case?"
"Nothing." He held up his hands in mock surrender when she scowled at him.
"Okay, I know about as much as you do." He rattled off what he knew about the victim,
ending with the fact that the young woman hadn't had any enemies and the boyfriend
had checked out clean. It was believed that she was the victim of a random act of
violence.
Sophia shook her head vehemently. "It didn't seem random. Something about her
drew the killer to her. What was it? The way he had her laid out, naked from the waist
up with her arms spread straight out by her sides, seemed almost ritualistic. She didn't
land that way on her own. He positioned her intentionally. Why the cemetery and why
did he drain her blood?"
Zane's chest swelled with pride. "You think like a cop."
She shrugged. "I've been doing this for a few years--you watch and you learn."
Scooting to the edge of her chair,
she leaned forward until their noses were almost
touching. "What do you know?"
Sighing, he leaned away when all he wanted to do was yank her into his arms and
tumble them both to the floor. His hormones were definitely in overdrive when it came
to wanting to claim this woman. He wanted to mark her as his so that every other man
she met would know that she belonged to him.
He wanted to rage against the feeling even as he wanted to slide his cock into her
naked body and pound into her until they were both sweaty and crying out their
release.
"I can't tell you." He'd never trusted anyone with what he suspected. For that
matter, he'd never trusted anyone with anything. Not since his father had died.
He shoved that dark memory out of his mind. That was a long time ago and had
nothing to do with this.
She stood then, bringing her stomach right in line with his face. He'd only have to
reach up the tiniest bit to be able to take her nipple into his mouth. He barely
swallowed a groan as his cock began to throb again. Before he could reach out and yank
her into his arms, she stepped away and headed back to the door. There was no doubt
that he'd worn out his welcome and she was tossing him out on his ear.
He had a choice to make.
His head was advising caution. He could sneak back later when she was asleep or
the next time she went out again. But some deeper instinct was telling him to trust her.
Since his instincts had saved his life more times than he could count, he decided to trust
them.
"You can't tell anyone."
She stilled and turned slowly around. She stared at him long and hard, as if trying
to decide if she could trust him to keep his word. He deserved that, he supposed, but it
still made him bristle.
A series of raps came on the door. Zane was on his feet in a second, striding toward
her, drawing his weapon as he went. She blinked at him as he pushed her behind him.
"You expecting anyone?"
"Pizza." She stepped out around him, eyeing the nine-millimeter semiautomatic he
had clutched in his right hand. "And I'm really hungry, so don't shoot the delivery
guy."
He grinned in spite of himself. Damn, but this woman had guts. "I'll just check." He
didn't wait for her consent, but went to the door and peered out through the peephole.
A bored teenage boy stood there with a large box in his hand and a bag in the other. He
holstered his weapon, unlocked the door and opened it.
"Delivery." The young man rattled off the amount and Sophia all but pushed him
aside and handed several crisp bills to the delivery guy. He took the money and walked
away, sending a "thanks" over his shoulder.
Sophia hustled back to the living room, pizza in hand, leaving him to close and lock
the door. He guessed that meant that he was invited to stay for supper. The corners of
his mouth twitched upward into a slow smile. Maybe he'd be invited to stay for dessert
as well. Shutting the door and turning the locks, he followed her back into the living
room.
The delicious aroma of tomato sauce and cheese wafted from the box she was
carrying, but Sophia's appetite had disappeared. Zane York was a mystery. He wasn't
directly involved in the investigation, at least not in an official capacity. But he did
know something. Or at least he thought he did.
He sure was jumpy. He'd been by her side with his weapon drawn before she could
blink. For a large man, he sure could move quickly. She'd found herself staring at his
back before she could open her mouth to question him. It was a strange feeling to have
someone try to protect her. Not that she needed it. She was more than capable of taking
care of herself. She'd been on her own since she was sixteen. But still, it was nice that
he'd wanted to.
The living room, which was normally cozy and inviting, seemed almost too small
with him in it. Zane seemed to take up too much space and suck up almost all the air.
Sophia shook her head and sighed. She must be hungrier than she imagined. It was the
only reasonable explanation for such fanciful thoughts.
Dropping the box on the scarred wooden coffee table, she sat back in her chair. The
small sofa would have been better, but she needed some space from Zane. The man was
too potently male. He distracted her.
Digging into the bag, she drew out a bottle of soda and some napkins. Zane had
followed her back into the room and lowered himself to the edge of her sofa. Well, it
was a loveseat really. She didn't have room for a full-sized sofa. The blue fabric with its
smattering of flowers was comfortable enough, but most importantly, it matched her
chair and fit into the space.
"Help yourself." She opened the box and grabbed a slice of pizza, looping the
warm, stringy cheese around the crust before bringing it to her mouth and taking a
huge bite. She closed her eyes and chewed. Spices exploded against her tongue and she
groaned as she swallowed. Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been quite some
time since she'd bothered to feed it.
She opened her eyes to find Zane staring at her. No, not at her, at her throat. When
she'd closed her eyes and swallowed, she'd tilted her head back. His gaze wandered
upward to her mouth. Pure, unadulterated lust filled his gaze. She choked on what was
left of her pizza, coughing and sputtering as her eyes began to water. No man had ever
given her such a carnal look in all her thirty years.
Leaning over, he handed her the bottle of soda as he rubbed her back. She pushed
his hand away from her as she sipped some of the liquid and swallowed her pizza.
"You okay?"
She nodded, lowering her head for a moment, letting the deep, seductive tones of
his voice flow over her.
Sitting back, she tossed the remainder of her piece of pizza back into the box,
knowing she wasn't going to be able to eat with him sitting across from her watching
every bite. "Tell me what you know. Or," she grabbed a napkin and wiped her fingers,
"what you think you know."
Zane sat back and crossed his booted foot over his knee. It pulled the fabric of his
jeans tight against his thighs, outlining the thick muscles there. She forced herself to
look at his face and focus on what he was saying. Normally she had no trouble
concentrating on work. In fact, she was usually obsessed by her work. There was
something about this man that threw her off balance and she didn't like it. Not one bit.
It gave him power over her.
"Do you remember Jethro Prince?"
Sophia took a sip of soda as she searched her memory. "Club owner. Suspected of
dabbling in every crime from gambling to drugs to prostitution. Found dead about
three years ago in an upstairs office at his club." She thought further, tapping her finger
against the edge of the sweaty bottle. "He and his right-hand man were both killed. The
police said it was gang-related."
"That's what they said."
It wasn't so much what Zane said, but how he said it that had her reporter's
instincts humming. "That's what they said," she repeated. "You don't agree?"
He didn't answer her, but asked her another question. "Do you remember that a
little while before that, there wa
s talk that several of Prince's men went missing?"
Again she searched her memory. Leaning forward, she placed her bottle on the
table. "They never found any bodies."
"That's right."
Her mind was spinning, but she couldn't make any connections. "How are those
two incidents related to this murder?"
Zane shrugged. "I don't know. They might not be related at all, but my gut is telling
me otherwise."
She knew all about gut instincts. It was what separated ordinary reporters from
those who became the best. She'd always had a nose for sniffing out the truth and those
instincts were telling her that Zane was on to something. Maybe something big.
"What do you think?"
He sat forward, planting both large feet on the floor and clasping his hands
between his spread thighs. "The incident in the alleyway involved a woman named
Delight Deveraux. She'd witnessed a murder and was caught when she ran from the
killers. The men turned up missing and she escaped. She claimed she didn't know what
happened to them."
Sophia nodded, remembering more of the details of the case. "Trauma. Fear. It's
possible she blocked it all out." She couldn't imagine what that poor woman had gone
through.
"Then came the death of Prince a short time later. Both he and his man, Smith, were
found with their necks broken. No one saw anyone go up to the office. There was no
screaming, no fighting. Nothing."
Sophia scuffed her slippers back and forth. "Unusual, but then again, maybe not.
Most folks don't want to get involved, especially when it involves organized crime. It's
a good way to end up buried in an unmarked grave at the bottom of a swamp."
Zane raised an eyebrow, acknowledging her point. "One of the detectives on the
Deveraux case was Sam Cassidy. He's a good cop--or at least I thought he was."
"You think he's hiding something."
"Maybe. He's not a cop any longer." Zane reached out and took her hand in his,
playing with her fingers. She tried to concentrate as he rubbed his thumb in slow circles
over the top of her hand. "He was also the first on the scene at Prince's club. He
discovered the bodies."
"Why was he there?"
"That's what I asked him. He said he'd gotten a tip."
"That's plausible." After all, she got tips all the time. That's how a lot of police work