hard shove from behind sent her into his chest.. Time stopped, a frozen moment strung out with pain and longing.
“Everything,” he muttered. “Has to do with everything.” And with a groan, Mac lowered his mouth.
Run. Run before it’s too late .
Lana couldn’t move, trapped by his palm holding her hand over his heartbeat, his skin calloused and hot….
No choice but to rise up and meet his lips, his taste a silent promise. Her hand fisted over the lapel of his jacket, dragging him closer, the thrill of touching him pulsing inside her veins.
The world stopped for a breathless moment. She reveled in his taste on her lips, coffee and man, his mouth relentless, hungry. And then he broke the kiss with firm palms over her shoulders to set away.
“You have to stop.” Low, guttural voice, as if the words shredded him from the inside. “Stop before someone gets hurt. Before it’s too late.”
She blew at the damp hair in her eyes, confused, aroused, and angry. “I’m doing what I have to.”
“Why? For Nicky?”
“Yes.” Simple as that.
He shook his head, the stubble on his cheeks making his face appear even harsher. “He was a cop, Lana. Like you. Think he would want this?”
She crossed her arms against the chill and forced a smirk. “Doesn’t matter what he wants. He is dead.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“It’s all I have now.” The mist around her became a shower of icy water. “You have no real evidence as proof. If the cops ask me anything, I’ll deny it.”
“Williams wants you off the street. I doubt he’ll be doing any asking.”
Shock was another sticky layer over a mess pit of emotions. “You’re working for him?”
Unreadable, hard gaze. “I am.”
She lifted her chin and dared him to touch her. “You going to arrest me?”
“Like you said—no proof. Yet.” His voice lashed over her, dark and silken promise. His hands were once again inside his pockets, his long coat whipping with the wind. “Be careful.”
She gave a snort, as fake as it was arrogant. “Is that a threat?”
His smile devoid of all mirth, Mac turned away to walk into the mist.
Chapter Four
“You look like shit,” Williams said the next morning with the wet streets gleaming behind his back. He dressed the part of the city’s top cop with well-made suits and a dark tie loosened to give the impression of hard work tackled at his office. A Starbucks cup sat dead center amidst paperwork piled in every corner of his desk.
The office, in the mid tower of Public Works, suited him with its gray walls and polished gleam of glass cases housing certificates and trophies.
“I haven’t had coffee yet.” In the two hours of snatched sleep, Mac had dreamt of Lana.
Williams didn’t bother to offer him a cup. “What have you got?”
“Some say that he can fly, while others swear he breathes fire. Some say he’s keeping drugs from kids, other that dealers pay him for protection. Drugs are the common thread.”
“This isn’t news.”
“I don’t have all the facts.”
Williams leaned back in his black leather chair, his pale eyes thoughtful, his hair fashionably gray. “Facts aren’t your concern. All I need you to do is weaken his shield or whatever your kind calls it. Get inside and inject him. My guys will do the rest.”
His gut clenched at the words. “Could be a woman.”
Williams threw him a quick, assessing look. “You know something I don’t?”
“Just saying.” Easy to simply push this off back to the cops and go back to New York, L.A., Seattle. If Night Rook were anyone but Lana, Mac would’ve gone back to a cage three days ago.
“Mendoza did report a woman had approached him. Blond, tall, fetish for leather. Maybe somebody working with the Rook? You saw her at Flamingos?”
“Just her back.” Keeping his posture ramrod straight inside the low visitor chair, Mac studied the wet grinning gargoyle behind Doc’s back.
“You’re hiding something. You
“Everything,” he muttered. “Has to do with everything.” And with a groan, Mac lowered his mouth.
Run. Run before it’s too late .
Lana couldn’t move, trapped by his palm holding her hand over his heartbeat, his skin calloused and hot….
No choice but to rise up and meet his lips, his taste a silent promise. Her hand fisted over the lapel of his jacket, dragging him closer, the thrill of touching him pulsing inside her veins.
The world stopped for a breathless moment. She reveled in his taste on her lips, coffee and man, his mouth relentless, hungry. And then he broke the kiss with firm palms over her shoulders to set away.
“You have to stop.” Low, guttural voice, as if the words shredded him from the inside. “Stop before someone gets hurt. Before it’s too late.”
She blew at the damp hair in her eyes, confused, aroused, and angry. “I’m doing what I have to.”
“Why? For Nicky?”
“Yes.” Simple as that.
He shook his head, the stubble on his cheeks making his face appear even harsher. “He was a cop, Lana. Like you. Think he would want this?”
She crossed her arms against the chill and forced a smirk. “Doesn’t matter what he wants. He is dead.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“It’s all I have now.” The mist around her became a shower of icy water. “You have no real evidence as proof. If the cops ask me anything, I’ll deny it.”
“Williams wants you off the street. I doubt he’ll be doing any asking.”
Shock was another sticky layer over a mess pit of emotions. “You’re working for him?”
Unreadable, hard gaze. “I am.”
She lifted her chin and dared him to touch her. “You going to arrest me?”
“Like you said—no proof. Yet.” His voice lashed over her, dark and silken promise. His hands were once again inside his pockets, his long coat whipping with the wind. “Be careful.”
She gave a snort, as fake as it was arrogant. “Is that a threat?”
His smile devoid of all mirth, Mac turned away to walk into the mist.
Chapter Four
“You look like shit,” Williams said the next morning with the wet streets gleaming behind his back. He dressed the part of the city’s top cop with well-made suits and a dark tie loosened to give the impression of hard work tackled at his office. A Starbucks cup sat dead center amidst paperwork piled in every corner of his desk.
The office, in the mid tower of Public Works, suited him with its gray walls and polished gleam of glass cases housing certificates and trophies.
“I haven’t had coffee yet.” In the two hours of snatched sleep, Mac had dreamt of Lana.
Williams didn’t bother to offer him a cup. “What have you got?”
“Some say that he can fly, while others swear he breathes fire. Some say he’s keeping drugs from kids, other that dealers pay him for protection. Drugs are the common thread.”
“This isn’t news.”
“I don’t have all the facts.”
Williams leaned back in his black leather chair, his pale eyes thoughtful, his hair fashionably gray. “Facts aren’t your concern. All I need you to do is weaken his shield or whatever your kind calls it. Get inside and inject him. My guys will do the rest.”
His gut clenched at the words. “Could be a woman.”
Williams threw him a quick, assessing look. “You know something I don’t?”
“Just saying.” Easy to simply push this off back to the cops and go back to New York, L.A., Seattle. If Night Rook were anyone but Lana, Mac would’ve gone back to a cage three days ago.
“Mendoza did report a woman had approached him. Blond, tall, fetish for leather. Maybe somebody working with the Rook? You saw her at Flamingos?”
“Just her back.” Keeping his posture ramrod straight inside the low visitor chair, Mac studied the wet grinning gargoyle behind Doc’s back.
“You’re hiding something. You
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