them from the occupants staying in the closest room?
She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, as she felt him studying her.
“I’ve got coffee,” he said finally.
“Really?” She didn’t have to exaggerate how appealing that sounded. She hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and her system could benefit from a boost of caffeine.
He started out of the room then stopped when he noticed her sweater was still on the floor.
She shrugged. “I think the cuffs make a much bolder fashion statement without the sweater.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he dug the key from his pocket. He hadn’t hesitated to touch her last night, but this morning he seemed careful to keep any physical contact to a minimum.
He uncuffed one wrist and handed her the sweater. Dropping her bag, she pulled it over her head, aware of the moment his attention slid down her chest. She ducked her head, the nervous flutter in her belly having nothing to do with the game she was playing.
A full ten seconds passed before he cuffed her again, and she intentionally brushed up against him as she squeezed past. Without a lot of wiggle room, she had to turn her body into his to fit, drawing the slow slide out an extra second or two.
He only let her get a couple feet ahead of him into the main room before he circled around, giving her a wide berth.
Grateful to have more than ten square feet to move around in, she sat on the edge of the bed. Lucas handed her one of the two coffees from the bedside table. Ten bucks said Lucas had given the desk clerk a nice tip to deliver them right to the room.
She brought the Styrofoam cup to her lips, letting every bit of the uncertainty she felt play across her face. “You’re not going to tell me where you’re taking me, are you?”
Leaning back against the dresser opposite her, Lucas only shook his head.
“What if I told you I could pay you more than whatever Blackwater is?”
“Then I’d wonder where a cop comes by that kind of money.”
When he skipped asking her who Blackwater was, any hope she might have been clinging to that he had nothing to do with the drug and arms dealer was shot all to hell.
“Does it really matter?”
He crossed his arms. “Depends on if you actually expect me to believe you or not.”
His suspicion wasn’t entirely unexpected. The hesitation to lie to him was, though. Why should it matter what he thought of her when Blackwater had made sure even her own friends and family questioned her involvement with his dealings?
It didn’t, she reminded herself. She took a sip of her coffee, letting the hot liquid slide down her throat and buying herself a few more seconds.
“There was a shipment that came in a three months ago. The deal went south.”
“Drugs?” He sounded only mildly curious, but he stood a little straighter, his sharp gaze locked on her every move.
“No. Something else.” Something Cara had gotten caught up in somehow. “Blackwater was just the middle man on this and whatever it was, he was in over his head. The merchandise was seized during the exchange and everything went to hell.”
“DEA?”
“I don’t think so.” She hadn’t seen much of anything to know for sure. The second Blackwater had realized the location had been compromised he’d fled, dragging her along with him to take care of later.
Cutting off that train of thought right there, she glanced at Lucas. He stared at her, waiting.
“The bust never made the news and not a single agency claimed anything went down that night.”
“I’m still waiting for the part where you explain how I can benefit from a deal that already blew up in someone else’s face?”
She took another sip of her coffee. “Blackwater’s buyer was killed that night.” At least she couldn’t imagine how he’d survived being shot in the head. “But the money was never recovered.”
“And you know where the money went?”
“I saw where the Russian hid it.”
“Russian, huh?” He searched her
She leaned against the wall, eyes closed, as she felt him studying her.
“I’ve got coffee,” he said finally.
“Really?” She didn’t have to exaggerate how appealing that sounded. She hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday and her system could benefit from a boost of caffeine.
He started out of the room then stopped when he noticed her sweater was still on the floor.
She shrugged. “I think the cuffs make a much bolder fashion statement without the sweater.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and he dug the key from his pocket. He hadn’t hesitated to touch her last night, but this morning he seemed careful to keep any physical contact to a minimum.
He uncuffed one wrist and handed her the sweater. Dropping her bag, she pulled it over her head, aware of the moment his attention slid down her chest. She ducked her head, the nervous flutter in her belly having nothing to do with the game she was playing.
A full ten seconds passed before he cuffed her again, and she intentionally brushed up against him as she squeezed past. Without a lot of wiggle room, she had to turn her body into his to fit, drawing the slow slide out an extra second or two.
He only let her get a couple feet ahead of him into the main room before he circled around, giving her a wide berth.
Grateful to have more than ten square feet to move around in, she sat on the edge of the bed. Lucas handed her one of the two coffees from the bedside table. Ten bucks said Lucas had given the desk clerk a nice tip to deliver them right to the room.
She brought the Styrofoam cup to her lips, letting every bit of the uncertainty she felt play across her face. “You’re not going to tell me where you’re taking me, are you?”
Leaning back against the dresser opposite her, Lucas only shook his head.
“What if I told you I could pay you more than whatever Blackwater is?”
“Then I’d wonder where a cop comes by that kind of money.”
When he skipped asking her who Blackwater was, any hope she might have been clinging to that he had nothing to do with the drug and arms dealer was shot all to hell.
“Does it really matter?”
He crossed his arms. “Depends on if you actually expect me to believe you or not.”
His suspicion wasn’t entirely unexpected. The hesitation to lie to him was, though. Why should it matter what he thought of her when Blackwater had made sure even her own friends and family questioned her involvement with his dealings?
It didn’t, she reminded herself. She took a sip of her coffee, letting the hot liquid slide down her throat and buying herself a few more seconds.
“There was a shipment that came in a three months ago. The deal went south.”
“Drugs?” He sounded only mildly curious, but he stood a little straighter, his sharp gaze locked on her every move.
“No. Something else.” Something Cara had gotten caught up in somehow. “Blackwater was just the middle man on this and whatever it was, he was in over his head. The merchandise was seized during the exchange and everything went to hell.”
“DEA?”
“I don’t think so.” She hadn’t seen much of anything to know for sure. The second Blackwater had realized the location had been compromised he’d fled, dragging her along with him to take care of later.
Cutting off that train of thought right there, she glanced at Lucas. He stared at her, waiting.
“The bust never made the news and not a single agency claimed anything went down that night.”
“I’m still waiting for the part where you explain how I can benefit from a deal that already blew up in someone else’s face?”
She took another sip of her coffee. “Blackwater’s buyer was killed that night.” At least she couldn’t imagine how he’d survived being shot in the head. “But the money was never recovered.”
“And you know where the money went?”
“I saw where the Russian hid it.”
“Russian, huh?” He searched her
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