Wynn asked.
She wiped a wrist across her eyes. “You’re the least cop looking guy I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t make it past the first casting call.”
Fair enough. “That’s what being undercover is all about.”
“Undercover?”
“I’m trusting you with a lot here.” He lowered his voice, nerves still on edge from the alarm. Of course trust was easy when he’d had her investigated and technically she couldn’t leave the grounds unless he let her. But then that would be kidnapping, which clearly she’d thought him capable of two minutes ago. “I am an undercover police detective keeping a low profile until some heat blows over.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why would I lie?”
She studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes taking him all in. He felt the pull of attraction to her again as he met her gaze. The corners of her mouth faintly pulled upwards. A nervous half-smile played on her lips. “To lure me back inside to kill me and stuff my body into a freezer?”
Just from her flippant answer he could tell she was relaxing. Trusting.
“Let’s sit out here on the porch, out in the open, and do some Googling.”
“Uhm, Googling?”
“You’ll see.” He dropped down on the bench, leaving a space free beside him, while making sure he could still access the gun tucked under his loose shirt over his t-shirt. He pulled out his phone and launched Google, the sound of night bugs mingling with the tones of his phone.
She chewed her bottom lip, then sat slowly. “Okay, it’s not like I could actually make a run for it if you’re truly a psycho.”
“A ringing endorsement of my character. Thanks. But if I’d wanted to kill you, you never would have made it out the front door. Lucky for you, I’m completely legit.” He passed her his phone. Complete with an article about the Dimitri bust.
Her brow furrowed, her eyes moving as she read. “This Wynn Rafferty, the policeman who solved the case but lost his partner. You’re his partner and you’re not really dead?”
His chest burned with memories of how fast that day had gone to hell. He kept an eye on the property in front of him, alert to any movements.
“I’m Wynn Rafferty.”
“You’ve even been lying about your name, Heath Lambert ?”
“I’m trusting you right now, a woman I only just met.” He took his phone back to thumb through photos about the story until one landed on an image of his face, an earlier photo of him wearing his uniform. “Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Then why are you doing it?” She looked up at him, her cheek close to his shoulder. Her scent a light sweetness in his nose that made him want to bend closer.
“Because I hate the fear I just saw in your eyes. I’ve worked my whole life to protect people from feeling that way.”
He held the edge of the phone until she took it from him, her gaze dropping to the article detailing the bust on the Dimitri drug syndicate. How during that bust a couple of kids from the local high school had shown up to try and bring their friend out of the gang. One of those teens got shot and killed by Dimitri himself—a teen Wynn knew from his earlier work at a rec center. To this day he blamed himself for that kid’s death. For that instant when the youth looked at him and recognition lit in the boy’s eyes. How damn tragic that in trying to save the kid through working at the rec center, he’d ultimately caused the youth’s death. The boy had followed in his footsteps, trying to save others.
Wynn rubbed his forehead, pressing against an ache that never went away. “I’ll just be glad when the trial is over and life can return to normal.”
Or something like normal. He had no idea what that meant for him, but the thought of returning to his work in Miami turned him cold.
She tapped the edge of his phone. “I remember this case.”
God, he sure as hell would never forget. “The Dimitri family connection made the headlines—they have
She wiped a wrist across her eyes. “You’re the least cop looking guy I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t make it past the first casting call.”
Fair enough. “That’s what being undercover is all about.”
“Undercover?”
“I’m trusting you with a lot here.” He lowered his voice, nerves still on edge from the alarm. Of course trust was easy when he’d had her investigated and technically she couldn’t leave the grounds unless he let her. But then that would be kidnapping, which clearly she’d thought him capable of two minutes ago. “I am an undercover police detective keeping a low profile until some heat blows over.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Why would I lie?”
She studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes taking him all in. He felt the pull of attraction to her again as he met her gaze. The corners of her mouth faintly pulled upwards. A nervous half-smile played on her lips. “To lure me back inside to kill me and stuff my body into a freezer?”
Just from her flippant answer he could tell she was relaxing. Trusting.
“Let’s sit out here on the porch, out in the open, and do some Googling.”
“Uhm, Googling?”
“You’ll see.” He dropped down on the bench, leaving a space free beside him, while making sure he could still access the gun tucked under his loose shirt over his t-shirt. He pulled out his phone and launched Google, the sound of night bugs mingling with the tones of his phone.
She chewed her bottom lip, then sat slowly. “Okay, it’s not like I could actually make a run for it if you’re truly a psycho.”
“A ringing endorsement of my character. Thanks. But if I’d wanted to kill you, you never would have made it out the front door. Lucky for you, I’m completely legit.” He passed her his phone. Complete with an article about the Dimitri bust.
Her brow furrowed, her eyes moving as she read. “This Wynn Rafferty, the policeman who solved the case but lost his partner. You’re his partner and you’re not really dead?”
His chest burned with memories of how fast that day had gone to hell. He kept an eye on the property in front of him, alert to any movements.
“I’m Wynn Rafferty.”
“You’ve even been lying about your name, Heath Lambert ?”
“I’m trusting you right now, a woman I only just met.” He took his phone back to thumb through photos about the story until one landed on an image of his face, an earlier photo of him wearing his uniform. “Probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Then why are you doing it?” She looked up at him, her cheek close to his shoulder. Her scent a light sweetness in his nose that made him want to bend closer.
“Because I hate the fear I just saw in your eyes. I’ve worked my whole life to protect people from feeling that way.”
He held the edge of the phone until she took it from him, her gaze dropping to the article detailing the bust on the Dimitri drug syndicate. How during that bust a couple of kids from the local high school had shown up to try and bring their friend out of the gang. One of those teens got shot and killed by Dimitri himself—a teen Wynn knew from his earlier work at a rec center. To this day he blamed himself for that kid’s death. For that instant when the youth looked at him and recognition lit in the boy’s eyes. How damn tragic that in trying to save the kid through working at the rec center, he’d ultimately caused the youth’s death. The boy had followed in his footsteps, trying to save others.
Wynn rubbed his forehead, pressing against an ache that never went away. “I’ll just be glad when the trial is over and life can return to normal.”
Or something like normal. He had no idea what that meant for him, but the thought of returning to his work in Miami turned him cold.
She tapped the edge of his phone. “I remember this case.”
God, he sure as hell would never forget. “The Dimitri family connection made the headlines—they have
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