Against The Night Part 13

Jesus, she was something. Amy or Angel, it didn't matter. Each was a beautiful, responsive woman and in truth, the two were one and the same. Amy was the only one who didn't get that. She was part lady, part vixen. It was a heady mix for a man like him.

Johnnie watched her sleeping beside him, her long golden hair spread across his pillow as he had imagined a dozen times. She was lying on her side, her back to him, the sheet bunched below her perfect little a.s.s. He silently chuckled. She wanted to explore her s.e.xuality. During the night, he had given her a few preliminary lessons. But he had let her off easy.

This was new to her, he could see. In time, he would teach her about pleasure. In time- Frowning, he broke off the thought. Time was something they didn't have. They were working together, involved in a search that would eventually end-one way or another. Amy had a job in Michigan. By the end of the summer, she would be gone. Out of his life for good.

Which really was good, he told himself.

Getting involved with a woman-any woman-was the last thing he wanted. He wasn't a settle-down kind of guy. It wasn't that he needed to screw a lot of women to feel like a man, the way some guys did. He just couldn't handle the closeness, the intimacy. Seemed like all his life, whenever he got close to a woman, he wound up getting hurt. First his mother, who had left when he was eight years old, then Katie getting killed, then Lisa.

He'd been crazy about Lisa Desmond, a woman he'd met a few years after he got out of the Rangers. He'd wanted to marry her, but Lisa was more interested in how much money he had in the bank than how much he loved her.

Funny thing was he had a lot more than he let on: his savings while he was in the army, which he had invested and had earned a tidy profit, later high-paying, off-the-record a.s.signments, mercenary work, jobs he'd taken he didn't like to think about but had to be done.

He hadn't told Lisa. He needed to know if her feelings for him were sincere so he hadn't said anything about the money, and when he found a note telling him she'd left town with Aaron Sespe, a real estate broker down in Orange County, he had his answer.

He wasn't good with relations.h.i.+ps. He'd figured out long ago it was better to keep his emotions in check, do what he was good at and not get mixed up with a woman who was either bound to die or leave him.

He glanced down at Amy. He wanted her. He was hard again, even after making love to her most of the night. And she always seemed to want him.

Figuring it was time to give her another lesson, he kissed the back of her neck and moved behind her spoon fas.h.i.+on. She moaned as he eased her leg over his thigh and slid his erection inside.

"Johnnie..." She sighed, whispering his name like an answered prayer.

He smiled as he felt her body moisten and stretch around him, felt her skin flush as her arousal strengthened. In minutes she came, and so did he, and afterward she kissed him softly, curled around him and went back to sleep.

Even as he held her, he reminded himself she wasn't for him and never would be.

The reminder kept him from falling asleep.

His cell started playing the National Anthem at nine the next morning. Johnnie grabbed the phone off the nightstand, swung his legs to the side of the bed and walked out of the bedroom into the hall so he wouldn't disturb Amy.

"Hey, Hambone, hope I didn't wake you."

He knew the voice. Dev Raines, one of his best friends. He yawned. Fortunately, he didn't need a lot of sleep, which considering how little he'd gotten last night was good.

"Hey, Daredevil, what's up?" Dev's Ranger name-which he fully deserved. Of course he was married now, living with his wife and adopted daughter in Scottsdale and mostly settled down. Mostly.

"I'm working a case in L.A.," Dev said. "Auto theft ring. Insurance company's getting tired of dis.h.i.+ng out money for expensive stolen cars."

"Must be pros if they've figured a way past the security systems. Those high-dollar jobs are really tough to steal."

"Which is why the police so far have zilch. I've got Chaz working on it." Dev had his own computer geek, a guy even better than Trace's whiz kid. "He's come up with a couple of names, people in the area with the technical know-how to pull it off. Delta Insurance is hoping I can figure out who's behind the thefts and find a way to get inside. The thing is I may need some backup."

"Hey, not a problem."

"Clive's in. Molly's not too happy about it, but you know Madman."

Johnnie chuckled. Another friend, Clive Monroe, lived in L.A. but they didn't see each other much now that Clive was married. "Most of the time, he's a cream puff where his lady's concerned, but deep down, he hasn't changed much since he left the Rangers. He likes the action too much to quit completely."

"I promised Molly I'd make sure he didn't get hurt."

"Oh, yeah, that worked great last time." In Mexico on a rescue mission Dev had organized, Clive had taken a bullet in the shoulder. Luckily it wasn't too serious, and Molly had only been mad at Dev for a couple of weeks. "So what's the plan?"

"Not sure yet. Lark's gotta come to L.A. on business." Dev's wife was fairly famous in the fas.h.i.+on industry for her expensive LARK designer bags. "I'm coming with her. We'll set up a meet."

"Sounds good."

"I'll get back to you." Dev hung up and so did Johnnie.

Looked like he had another job lined up. Still, finding Rachael had to come first. He'd given Amy his word and he wasn't about to break it. He'd work around the other.

Walking naked back into the bedroom, he grabbed a T-s.h.i.+rt out of a drawer and pulled it on, then slid on his jeans. Snuggled beneath the covers, Amy stirred and her eyes cracked open. They widened as she glanced around the room and realized where she was.

Resisting an urge to climb back in bed and make love to her again, he pulled open the dresser drawer, drew out a clean white T-s.h.i.+rt, and tossed it on top of the covers where she could reach it.

"I'll make us some coffee," he said. "You look like you could use a cup."

Amy spotted her clothes in a tangled heap on the floor, and her cheeks went pink. Grabbing the T-s.h.i.+rt, she pulled it over her head, glanced wistfully toward the bathroom but made no attempt to leave the protection of the bed. His gaze zeroed in on her long, golden, sleep-tangled hair. She didn't seem to know the bed was the least safe place she could be.

"Coffee first," he said a little gruffly, "then you can hit the shower."

Amy nodded, waited until he turned his back, and climbed down from the bed. Light, feminine footsteps hurried into the bathroom and the door softly closed.

Johnnie smiled. A modest stripper. Now, that was a new one.

A few minutes later, Amy walked into the kitchen, yawning behind her hand. The T-s.h.i.+rt hung like a sack to her knees and she wasn't wearing any makeup. His gaze ran from the peaks of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down to her tiny feet and red-painted toenails. She looked sleepy and well-tumbled and it turned him on like crazy.

He should be thinking of a strategy to get her out of his house, the way he normally would, but all he wanted to do was take her back to bed.

"You look good enough to eat."

Amy's eyes widened. "Don't even think about giving me another one of your lessons."

Amus.e.m.e.nt trickled through him. "No?"

"Well, at least not right now."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. "I guess we do have a few things to do besides try different positions."

She blushed, as he knew she would. "We need to find my sister."

"Exactly." He poured her a mug of coffee, added some of the Coffee-Mate he kept for guests, then pressed the cup into her hands. Her palms curled around it and she blew on the surface to cool it, took a tentative sip.

Her eyes closed and she sighed with pleasure. "That tastes wonderful. Thanks." Her gaze slid back toward the bedroom. "I'd better get dressed. You said I could use your shower."

"Sure, go ahead. The towels hanging next to the sink are clean."

Amy turned and headed in that direction. Johnnie didn't mention he planned to join her.

Thirteen.

Freshly showered and desperate for another cup of coffee, Amy walked barefoot back into Johnnie's kitchen. Dressed in the jeans and white tank top she had worn the night before, her damp hair pulled into a rubber band at the nape of her neck, she carried her high spike heels, which seemed absurdly wrong for the morning after.

As she set her purse and makeup kit on the counter, she looked at Johnnie and couldn't stop a blush. She had never had this much s.e.x in her life. The man was insatiable. Worst of all, he made her feel that way, too. Just looking at him leaning against the kitchen counter in his jeans and Ranger T-s.h.i.+rt made her want to jump him again.

It was embarra.s.sing. And ridiculous. After last night and this morning, she didn't have the strength.

"You ready for another cup?" he asked, distracting her, thank G.o.d.

"Absolutely."

He poured her a mug and handed it over, opened the oven and took out a tray of perfectly baked cinnamon rolls. The delicious aroma made her mouth water.

"Wow, a man who can cook."

Johnnie chuckled. "They're out of a can but I figured you could use a little nourishment."

Oh, Lord, could she. Every bone and muscle in her body felt limp and sated. Her appet.i.te was fierce, her stomach growling for food. She felt wonderful.

Johnnie frosted the rolls with the orange topping out of the can, took down a couple of plates and filled them, and they sat down at the table. Amy ate two delicious rolls, Johnnie polished off the rest. The man could really eat and yet he certainly didn't have a weight problem. Muscle burned more calories than fat did, she had read. Looking at the impressive muscles beneath his T-s.h.i.+rt, clearly that was the answer.

She tore her gaze away. "So what's our plan for the day?" She licked a dab of frosting off her finger.

"Yesterday I went to see your sister's friend, Mary Lou Kammer. So that's out of the way."

"You talked to Mary Lou? I talked to her when I first got here, but she didn't know anything useful. She was nice, though. I met her through Babs. She knew I was going to take Rachael's old job. Mary Lou said I could use her address so the police wouldn't know I was working as Angel and living at the club."

He took a sip of his coffee. "A couple of days ago, Mary Lou found some travel brochures down behind the cus.h.i.+ons in her sofa. She thinks they fell out of your sister's purse."

Amy's interest sharpened. "Where was Rachael going?"

"Looks like Belize."

"Belize. That's in the Caribbean. That fits with what Mrs. Zimmer said. Have you heard anything from that friend you called about the pa.s.senger lists?"

"Trace Rawlins." He shook his head. "Not yet."

"Has Mary Lou told the police about the brochures?"

"Yeah. She went in to see Lieutenant Meeks, so we're all on the same page. Mary Lou confirmed that she and Rachael went to Rembrandt's more than once. She said your sister occasionally went there alone. She thinks maybe she met a guy, someone she was interested in. She thinks they might have been dating."

"Danny?"

"Maybe."

Amy set her mug down on the table. "Let's go back to Rembrandt's, see if we can find Danny."

"I stopped by last night before I came to the club to see you. I talked to T.J. and Kenny. They said they knew a couple of guys named Danny who came in once in a while, but they didn't have any last names and they never saw either of them with your sister."

Amy chewed her lip. "Maybe if we went back, we could find the Danny that Rachael was seeing or find out if there was somebody else."

"We can try, but she could have met him anywhere."

It was true, but they were running out of leads and she was beginning to panic.

She started to say something, but the doorbell rang just then. Johnnie set his mug down and walked out of the kitchen to see who it was.

A few minutes later, he strode back in with a handsome, black-haired Latino trailing behind him. In a perfectly fitted chocolate-brown suit and a pair of expensive loafers, the man was downright dapper. She bet women fell all over themselves for this guy.

"Amy, this is Detective Rick Vega. Rick, meet Amy Brewer."

His dark gaze skimmed her, sending a rush of color into her cheeks. From the way he was looking at her, he knew she had been there all night. She should have left earlier. Thank G.o.d, she was fully clothed, though the way he was looking at her, she might as well have been naked.

"Nice to meet you," he said with just enough of a Spanish accent to sound s.e.xy.

Still, he wasn't her type. Not that she had a type. At least she hadn't until she'd met Johnnie.

"Back off, Rick." Johnnie eyed him darkly. "This one's off-limits."

The detective actually flushed, faint color staining the bones in his cheeks. "Sorry."

The stiffness in Johnnie's shoulders eased. "Coffee?"

"Sounds good."

Johnnie went over to the counter and poured the detective a cup.

"Thanks." Vega took a sip, sighed with appreciation.

"Late night?" Johnnie asked.

Vega smiled, flicked a glance toward Amy. There was no heat in his gaze this time. Johnnie had made his owners.h.i.+p clear. Amy wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Probably no later than yours."

Johnnie's gaze slid over her like a warm caress. "Probably not." He took a sip of his coffee. "So what's got you up here on a weekend?"

Vega tipped his head her way. "Maybe we should talk in private."

"This about Amy's sister?"

He nodded.