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I flip the lights on and lead her into the sanctuary. The church is small, with a center aisle and a dozen pews on each side. An organ sits at the right side of the stage up front, a grand piano on the left. I lace our fingers together and pull her up the aisle toward the piano.
“This is why we’re here, songbird.”
“Oh,” she whispers, reaching out to trail her fingers along the keys. And then she snatches it back at the last second and peeks around. “Are you sure it’s okay?”
“I cleared it with the pastor. You have permission to practice here right up until the show on Friday,” I say, handing the key to her with a flourish.
“Seriously?” She gapes between me and the key.
“Seriously. It’s all yours, sweet Raven.”
She squeaks and flings herself at my chest. I catch her, dropping the key in the process. It bounces against the wooded floor at our feet. Somehow, she ends up in my arms, my hands on her ass. Our lips crash together, our kiss hot and heavy.
I dive in again and again, drinking from her lips like she’s wine. My hands rove all over her ass, squeezing, kneading…doing things they damn well shouldn’t be doing in the middle of a church. Christ, not even Jesus could blame me for this. She’s too sweet.
I reluctantly break the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers with a groan. “You keep kissing me like that, we’ll be doing a whole lot of things in this church that aren’t sanctioned by Pastor Bob or the Holy Spirit, sweet Raven.”
She laughs softly, the sound full of happiness. My stomach clenches, my cock throbbing. Does she have any idea what she does to me? How wild I am about her?
“No way,” she says, squirming for me to put her down. “I need to get into heaven.”
“Yeah? Why is that?”
She beams at me over her shoulder, her blue eyes bright. “It’s where you’re going.”
“What’s up, my man?” Michael Kincaid asks. “You bored as fuck on your little island and ready to come work for the big boys yet?”
“Nope,” I say, grinning. Kincaid works for the DEA’s gang unit in Seattle. He’s a chameleon, the last person you’d expect to be as smart as he is, and yet he knows everything there is to know about gangs and gang crime. He’s been shot, stabbed, and left for dead more than once, but they never manage to kill him. When you need info, he’s the guy you call. He can find out anything about anyone. He’s the scariest motherfucker I know. Criminals with brains respect him. Those without sense quickly learn to fear him. “Hell will freeze over before I come work with your crazy ass, brother.”
“Well, fuck you too then,” he says, laughing. “I could use a little begging in my life today. Kincaid, please save me before my nuts shrivel up and I die of boredom sounds like a good start.”
“No can do, fucker.”
“Fine. Then why are you blowing up my phone at ass o’clock on a Thursday?”
“I need a favor.”
“Does it have the potential to get me shot? Because, gotta say, man, been there, done that. Kinda getting old,” he says. “The big boss is riding my dick about giving me a partner. So if whatever you need help with has a likelihood of making that happen, my answer is probably no.”
“Only probably?” I lean back in my chair, planting one boot on my desk.
“I mean…if it’s going to piss him off, I might be in,” he mutters, making me laugh.
Kincaid has spent most of his life living with gangs and criminals. He never takes anything seriously…and yet he closes more cases than most other agents. He’s a beast. I don’t know what his story is, but he’s a closed book. He doesn’t share shit and doesn’t ask shit.
“It probably won’t get you shot,” I say. “But it may get me fired.”
“Damn.” He whistles. “Now you’ve got me curious as a motherfucker.”
“I know who killed Brantley Calloway. I’ve known for a while. The only thing I’m missing is the why,” I say, not lying to him.
“Who?”
“His wife.”
Kincaid whistles again.
“She claims it was an accident, but I’m not buying it,” I say and then fill him in on the whole sordid story. I don’t leave anything out. If he’s going to look into this, he needs to know everything. Is it a risk? Yes. But it’s one I have to take. As soon as I start pulling threads, the whole goddamn thing is going to collapse on my head. Kincaid won’t have that problem. He knows people who know people.
