Lorie O - Strong, Sleek and Sinful

“Stop by here. I’m at Three Twenty-seven Elm Street.”

Kylie unlocked her hybrid and slipped behind the wheel, feeling a wave of light-headedness hit her. “It’s late, Perry.” She wasn’t sure she could take him on right now. If she went over there, she doubted they would do much talking.

“You can come over here, or I can show up at your place and whoever is monitoring your house will know when I show up, and when I leave,” Perry added, letting the last words he said fade into a dark promise.

In spite of how tired she was, her insides tightened with the need he’d created in her earlier when he’d kissed her senseless. “I’ll be over in a few.” She hung up, unwilling to listen if he started in on her for all of the lies she’d told him. She was doing her job.

Starting her car, she put a shield up around her heart. This couldn’t get personal. Once this case was solved she would leave town. It was probably best Perry understood that now, before he started assuming there was more than what she could offer. And regardless of Paul’s speculation, Kylie wouldn’t buy into Perry being a possible suspect. For years she’d been tracking sexual predators, creating profiles. Perry wasn’t a criminal. Most definitely possessive, aggressive, and demanding, but those were very common traits found in detectives. Other men as well, but Perry’s nature fit who he was, a single cop with a sister who had daughters. They were his world, and he was their protector. He would slip Kylie under that balloon, too, if she let him. And what a comfortable spot to be.

Kylie punched his address into her navigating device on her dash. The female voice started instructing her where to turn, her soft monotone enough to lull Kylie off to sleep if she dwelled on it. Thinking about Perry and the case kept her alert, though. Perry could blow her cover if she wasn’t careful, which was why she agreed to go over there. They would talk; she would learn where he stood, and make her decisions from there. The last thing she wanted to do was pull herself off this case, though. Worse yet, she would die if they took her off the case. In the years she’d been with the FBI, she’d never fucked up any case she’d worked on. Her track record was perfect. It had to stay that way. No matter what.

Her navigation device brought her to a quiet neighborhood where she envisioned older couples, their kids already moved out, yet for whatever reasons their parents hadn’t moved into smaller homes. The yards were all oversized and neatly mowed. Trees larger than the houses shrouded the neighborhood, adding to the peaceful setting.

The lady in the navigating device indicated Kylie had arrived at her destination. She paused in the street, staring at the dark home on the corner lot. Perry’s Jeep was parked in a gravel drive close to a door she guessed was the back door. Her stomach twisted with nerves when she parked on the street and then walked on the gravel to the door.

Perry opened it before she could knock. One look at the tight, almost angry look on his face and her heart swelled to her throat. He didn’t say anything but stepped to the side as she walked in.

“Where were you?” he asked when she walked as far as a kitchen. There weren’t any lights on except in a room on the other end of the house. And she knew that only because of the lit windows from outside. “Or wait, let me guess, you can’t tell me.”

There wasn’t pain in his tone, more like resignation. It still stabbed at her heart, the heart that was supposed to be well guarded by walls that would prevent any emotions from getting to it.

“And you would tell me every case you’re working on?” she demanded, turning around and facing him.

Perry crossed his arms over his muscular chest and glared down at her, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Oh, no, let me guess,” she said, mimicking him. “It’s different because you’re a man.”

“You’re goddamn straight,” he hissed, but then stopped, turning and storming past her into his dark living room. He rubbed his hand over his head, barely tousling his short, dark hair, and turned on her. Whatever demons haunted him turned his eyes black as night.

“No,” she hissed, pointing at him. “That’s wrong. You quite possibly have jeopardized my whole case. I wouldn’t do that to you. And your only argument is because I’m a woman?”

“I haven’t jeopardized your case,” he said, his voice lowering to a dangerous, if not deadly-sounding, baritone. “Not a fucking soul knows you’re FBI other than me. And of course whoever you’re working with,” he said, waving his hand at her but then turning to pace. “I tried walking out on you, and you stopped me, remember?” he continued. “I told myself at first that the only attraction was that you’re fucking hot as hell.”

“Thank you,” she said dryly. But then let the rest of his words sink in. “At first?”

He walked toward the room off his living room where light flooded from the doorway. Kylie stood alone in his living room, waiting for him to answer, or at least suggest she follow. But he did neither. She stared at the extra long and wide leather couch and pictured him sprawled over it, remote in hand, watching his large-screen TV. She guessed even when the lights were on the room would be dark; black leather furniture and dark-stained wooden end tables and coffee tables with equally dark-stained floorboards and doorways gave the room a dominating yet calm and controlled atmosphere. Every inch of the space around her was filled with Perry’s aura.

She’d entered his lair. There were pictures on the wall, but she didn’t focus on them, instead moving warily toward the doorway with light streaming out of it. Even the air sizzled with his controlling nature wrapping around her, making her flesh tingle. She fought for calming breaths when she reached the doorway and paused. This wasn’t the time to search her surroundings and learn more about the man who’d seeped into her pores and created a longing that wouldn’t go away. She shouldn’t dwell on how he’d arranged his home, or how it gave her more insight into the nature of the man.

Perry stood in a den, a room she guessed was where he spent most of his time, his personal haven. Everything in the room spoke of Perry. From the dark green walls and even darker-stained woodwork bordering the floors and ceiling and doorway to the thick roped circular carpet covering wooden floors. His computer was set up in the corner, and bookshelves that she’d love to explore lined two of the four walls. They were crammed full of so many books, and trophies, more than likely a showcase that displayed his life. But it was the tall, glass-enclosed cabinet that he stood facing, filled with guns of all shapes and sizes, that she guessed summed Perry up. Weapons of power, of control, deadly and dangerous just like the man.

“We’ve got a problem.” He didn’t elaborate, although the silence grew between them. Instead, he continued facing his display case, possibly not even seeing the weapons inside. “I don’t compete with anyone when working a case. It’s my case, or it’s not.”

“I was called in to work this case. I didn’t ask for it.” Kylie walked toward him but stopped and faced his back, staring at roped muscle stretching under his shirt. He wasn’t going to turn around. Well, let him play stubborn. The facts were simple. “Nothing has changed, Perry. Except hopefully now you understand that I wasn’t lying to you by choice.”

“Things have changed.” He turned around, and the fierceness in his gaze looked worse than angry. A tiny muscle twitched in his jaw as he fought to maintain outrage that made his eyes black. “You’re the bait for a madman and I have to stand by and allow this to continue. I’m not sure I have what it takes to do that, Kylie.”