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The distance between them shortened in two long strides of his powerful legs. His right hand cupped the back of her neck, resting his thumb by her ear and brought his face close to hers. “And I learned every inch of your body last night.”
He kissed her gently across her lips. It was the kind of kiss that made Harley forget about the typical pre-kiss thoughts; breath check, exposure of too much tongue, or potential slob.
“About last night,” Harley sighed, touching the corner of her mouth with the side of her thumb. Her legs wanted to buckle but she managed to stand still. Who kisses like that? How did she potentially forget what she wanted to say next? There was something she needed to discuss with him, but what was it exactly? “I think we need to talk.”
“I’d love to talk to you,” he moved back a step and grabbed his jeans off the floor, and pulled them on. He looked as good in them as he did without. “But duty calls.”
That was her line! With her line of work it was easier to have a dependable fling with a friend also not looking for a relationship. Unfortunately, her casual partner found himself in love and so Harley had to end things. Love was not on the menu or in the cards.
“I have to get to work too, but we need to figure out what to do about this marriage. This ring might be the real deal.” When she pinched it between her fingers, the gold band did not give or fold.
A bubble of di
sappointment burst in her chest as he covered his chiseled body with a black T-shirt. The material fit snug against his pecs and abs. The more she stared, the more she remembered the minute he walked in the bar. A good cup of coffee would bring the whole night together.
“They’re real,” groaned Dante, “Chet doesn’t go half ass.”
“And you know Chet, how?”
Dante flashed a smile capable of tempting her to forget about work, forget about talking. “He’s my cousin.”
“Great,” Harley rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, “I’m related to Chet.” She’d gone to school with Chet, attended his bar as a weekly ritual, and knew him to be, for the most part, a stand up kind of guy. Not quite as drop dead gorgeous as his cousin, but he would keep you laughing. Chet Rossi loved to indulge in pranks. Their senior trip almost got cut short when he broke into the principal’s bedroom at night and placed a full sized scary zombie clown half under her bed. She prayed at the thought that last night’s ceremony was Chet in high gear.
“It won’t be all bad.” There was a hint of teasing in Dante’s eyes. “Here,” he stretched his hand outwards, “hand me your phone.”
Asking to hold a woman’s phone ranked up on the list of no-no’s such as asking her weight or true age. Her shoulders withdrew backwards, her body turned away. “For what?”
“So, I can call you later and we can figure this out,” he brandished his long ringed finger.
With his phone in plain sight on the dresser Harley squared her shoulders and crossed the room in six steps. “I’ll put my number in here.” As she programmed her number into his cell, she watched him shake his head and grin.
Damn, he was sexy.
****
“Nobody will ever say you don’t go to great lengths to get what you want.”
Dante ignored the grimace over his team member’s face projected onto the screen of his cell phone mounted on his dashboard. “Cole, we’ve been working together for Special Tasks Bureau for how many years?”
“Fifteen.”
“And in those fifteen years have I ever been wrong?” Dante’s eyes glanced at the GPS’s red button flashing to his location. He let up on the gas to slow down. “Leonardo Marchette is here and I will do anything to get him this time.” He purposely left out what everything entailed last night. Until he figured out what to do with his hellcat Harley, he’d keep the information to himself.
“I didn’t believe you until the crime scene came over the wire,” said Cole, “same MO, dragged body.” Both men flinched at the same time. “Anyway, see Detective Lundy. I don’t have to remind you what happens if you get caught—”
“I’m not going to get caught,” Dante shook his head.
“You understand the government cannot bail you out. Don’t let your emotions of what the sociopath did to your sister rule your actions,” Cole said.
The government denied all knowledge, or they’d known it better as plausible deniability. Unless an agent was backed by a team like Dante’s, the Undesirables, he was screwed. Dante ground his back molars together to keep the image of his dead, tortured sister out of his mind.
“I sent over the credentials you’ll need to access the area and gather your information,” said Cole.
“Much appreciated,” Dante saluted his partner and disconnected the live-feed from his phone.
“Your final destination is on your right.”
“Always a pleasure, Nadine,” Dante answered the robotic feminine GPS voice coming from his dashboard of his borrowed black SUV. Up ahead, to his right a large group of people—cops, reporters and on-lookers—milled around. A quick glance in the rearview mirror gave him the go to make a huge u-turn and park on the other side of the street, facing north so he could have a quick get away to his car if necessary. These situations were never smooth for an agent.
