Yet her arms refused to let go of him, her legs refused to unhook from their perch on his trim hips. And her heart…her heart implored her to hold him even tighter.
So she did.
CALEB HAD NEVER BEEN ONE to question good fortune. Even that one Christmas when his current foster mom presented him with a brand-new baseball glove, he’d forced himself not to ask, “Why?” In his experience, people didn’t give gifts without expecting something in return, but Marley…she’d given him something so incredibly important last night. He wasn’t about to ruin that by spitting out all the questions biting at his tongue.
Do you forgive me?
Can you ever trust me again?
He couldn’t help but remember the day in Marley’s kitchen, when she’d asked him if he’d ever been in love and had looked so astounded when he’d admitted he hadn’t. He might have a different answer now, if the unfamiliar warmth flowing through his veins was what he thought it was. It was funny—the women he’d dated in the past had wanted so badly for him to love them, but how could he, when he wasn’t even sure what love felt like?
Now, he thought he might have an idea. The lump of tenderness that lodged in his throat whenever he looked into Marley’s eyes. The heat that unfurled in his body whenever he touched her. The protective rush that shot through him when he thought about the danger she was in.
Was that love?
Sitting up in bed, Caleb watched as Marley moved around the bedroom, folding clothes, shoving a pair of shoes into the closet. She’d barely said two words since they woke up, and he was beginning to grow uneasy. Any second now, he expected her to tell him last night was a mistake and throw him out.
But she didn’t do that. Rather, she strode to the bathroom, then hesitated in the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. “Want to take a shower?”
He was off the bed and moving toward her in a nanosecond.
Taking off the T-shirt she’d slipped into before they’d gone to sleep, she stepped into the shower stall. Caleb shucked his boxers and followed her in, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she turned on the faucet. Hot water poured out of the showerhead and Marley tilted her head, letting the water soak her honey-blond hair. She took a step back, giving him a turn under the spray while she reached for a poufy-looking thing and squirted a generous amount of body wash onto it. The scent of strawberries filled the small space. It smelled like Marley, sweet and feminine and unbelievably sexy.
He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she washed herself, white suds sliding down her body and gathering in the valley of her breasts. She was so freaking gorgeous, creamy white skin, gentle curves and full breasts tipped with tight pink nipples.
He opened his mouth to say something. Tell her she was beautiful. Ask her if she needed help. But what came out was, “What does this mean?”
Handing him the pouf, she moved under the spray and let the water wash away the suds. For a long time, she didn’t answer, and he just stood there, feeling slightly awkward as he dragged the fluffy sponge across his body, branding that strawberry scent into his own skin.
When she finally spoke, her voice came out in a sigh. “I don’t know what it means.”
Do you want me to stay?
He didn’t utter the words, fearful of how she might respond. Instead, he asked the question to himself.
Did he want to stay?
His entire adult life had revolved around his job. He worked out of the New York office, but his assignments took him all over the country. Staying with Marley would mean not being able to take certain assignments, or maybe even leaving the agency altogether. It would be too hard, living apart for long periods at a time.
It astounded him that he could even consider any of this. His work was all he’d ever cared about. Previously, the notion of not having his job had brought a knot of panic to his gut.
Now, that panic arose when he imagined leaving Marley. He wanted to stay here with her. To help her renovate her house and go to Sunday barbecues at her dad’s place. To make love to her every night and wake up next to her every morning.
“We shouldn’t talk about it right now.” Marley’s soft voice pulled him out of his disconcerting thoughts. “I don’t have the energy for it. I just want Patrick to be caught.”
Sliding open the steamed-up door, Marley got out of the shower, her body slick and rosy pink. Caleb quickly rinsed, then turned off the faucet. He was just getting out when Marley let out a squeak followed by an irritated curse.
“You okay?” he asked.
She hopped on one foot, holding the other one with a wet hand and rubbing her big toe. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just stubbed my toe on that loose tile again.”
He looked at the floor. One of the tiles had popped out of place, thanks to Marley’s foot.
“I definitely need to retile,” she grumbled, moving to the door and swiping a terry-cloth robe from the hook there.
Caleb continued to stare at the tile. Why had a tile in the middle of the floor come loose? Something wasn’t right. “I think…” Getting out of the shower, he bent down to the floor, dripping water all over the place. “There’s something here.”
He lifted the tile, squinting into the space beneath. Instead of the plywood that should have been there, someone had sawed out a jagged square, revealing the cavity beneath the sub-floor. A dark little hiding place. Slowly, Caleb stuck his hand in, feeling around until his fingers made contact with plastic. He gripped what felt like an envelope, using only his thumb and forefinger to pull it out.
“What is that?” Marley asked.
Caleb studied the envelope, which was enclosed in a clear plastic bag. It felt bulky, and when he gingerly removed it from the bag and lifted the flap, his breath caught in his throat.
Marley stepped closer, peering down at the envelope in his hands. She gasped. “Is that…money?”
He stared at the thick stacks of bills, four of them individually wrapped with elastic bands. All hundreds, and each stack had to contain at least fifty grand.
Dropping the flap, Caleb tucked the envelope back in the bag and stood up. “Well, I think we know why Patrick’s still in town,” he remarked with a sigh.
14
MARLEY STOOD IN FRONT of the sliding door leading to her backyard and stared at the sparrows pecking at the seeds in her bird feeder. Male voices drifted in from the living room—Caleb was in there with Jamison and D’Amato, the two DEA agents who’d been posted outside during the night. They were discussing the money Caleb had discovered in the bathroom, and she preferred not to be there for that.
She still couldn’t believe it. Patrick had stashed two hundred thousand dollars under her floor. She’d probably walked over that spot hundreds of times in the past few months, completely oblivious to what lay below. The thought that her bathroom floor had been housing Patrick’s drug money for so long made her want to cry.
Caleb was certain Patrick would come back for the money. It was probably the only reason he hadn’t fled the city earlier. He had to know by now that their bank account had been frozen. Caleb told her that the bank wouldn’t authorize any transfers out of the account.
Patrick must be pretty desperate by now, she thought, her stomach churning. She grew even more uneasy when her cell phone vibrated in her purse, which sat on the kitchen counter. It was probably Gwen, or maybe her brother or her dad, whose calls she’d been avoiding since last night. Her best friend and family had no idea what had happened yesterday—finding Lydia White tied up in her bedroom, discovering Patrick’s drug money.
She hadn’t called because she didn’t want to scare them any further. Patrick’s stunt at the hospital already had everyone on edge.
She fished the phone out of her bag, sighing when she saw her dad’s number flashing on the screen. This was his third call in the past hour. If she continued to not pick up, he and Sam would probably drive over in a panic. That was one scene she wouldn’t mind avoiding.
“Hey, Dad,” she said as she
pressed the talk button.
“Hey, sweet pea.”
Shock slammed into her like a baseball bat, sucking the oxygen right out of her lungs.
“Don’t say my name,” Patrick added swiftly. “Are you alone?”
Her fingers shook against the phone. “Y-yes.”
“Good. If anyone comes in, you’re talking to your father.”
She choked down the hard lump of terror obstructing her throat. “Why are you calling from this number?”
“Because I’m having a nice little visit with your father,” Patrick answered in a pleasant voice. “Sammy’s here, too, but I’m afraid I had to knock him out. He was being very difficult.”
A chill rushed over her. “Don’t you dare hurt either one of them.”
“I’m not going to hurt anyone.” He sounded annoyed. “Your father’s sitting right here beside me, not a hair on his head disturbed.”
“Let me talk to him,” she blurted. Her heart hammered in her chest, so fast she feared it might stop beating altogether. “I want to talk to him.”
“Fine, but be quick. You and I have some things to discuss.”
There was a shuffling noise, and then, to her sheer relief, her father came on the line. “Sweetheart?”
“Daddy?” she whispered. “Oh, God, Dad, are you okay?”
“I’m all right,” her father replied, but the slight quiver in his voice told her he was anything but all right.
“Has he hurt you?”
“No.” Not yet, was what he seemed to be saying. Her dad grew urgent, his words coming out so fast she struggled to keep up. “Don’t do a thing he asks, Marley. Your brother and I will be okay. Whatever he wants, don’t give it to him. Do you hear me, sweetheart, don’t—”
An angry curse whipped through the extension, and then Patrick returned. “Your father’s trying to be a hero,” he said with a chuckle. “But we both know you’re not going to leave him at my mercy, right, sweet pea?”
“What do you want?”
“I need you to bring me something. There’s some money stashed in your house. It’s hidden under…”
Marley tuned him out, the sound of footsteps sending alarm spinning through her. She heard the front door shut, then more footsteps coming toward the kitchen. Caleb appeared in the doorway a second later, and she quickly held up her hand to silence him.
His blue eyes immediately hardened as he looked at the cell phone pressed up to her ear.
“—and bring it to your father’s house,” Patrick finished. “One hour, Marley.”
An unsteady breath squeezed out of her lungs. “I c-can’t. They’re watching me.”
“The cops?”
“Yeah. They’re next door. And one is upstairs right now,” she said, avoiding Caleb’s eyes. “I can’t leave without them knowing.”
“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Patrick’s voice turned to ice. “You sure found a way to screw someone else while I was gone.”
She swallowed. “I…”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Patrick snapped. “Get the money and bring it to me, or you can say goodbye to your baby brother and your daddy.”
“Please, don’t hurt—”
“And you’d better be alone,” he interrupted. “I’ll be watching you pull up, and if I sense anything funny, your father and junior die.”
He hung up, and Marley sagged against the counter. She gasped for air, salty tears welling up and coating her eyelashes. A pair of warm arms surrounded her, steadying her before she could keel over.
She whirled around and pressed her face against Caleb’s strong chest, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. “He has my dad and brother,” she wheezed between sobs. “He’s going to kill them if I don’t bring him the money.”
Caleb’s hands stroked her back, soothing her, bringing warmth to her suddenly freezing body. He tangled his fingers in her hair and angled her head so she was looking up at him. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’ll be okay.”
“How can you say that? He’s going to kill them!”
“I won’t let him,” Caleb replied. He used his thumb to wipe away her tears. “I won’t let him hurt them, Marley.”
“What are we going to do? He wants me to bring the money in an hour, and I have to go alone. If I bring the cops, he said he’ll kill them.”
Whatever confidence she lacked at the moment, Caleb made up for in spades. He released her and picked up the radio he’d put on the counter, alerting AJ and the others to the situation. As she stood there, shaken up and afraid, he placed a call to Hernandez and then to a man he referred to as Stevens.
Fifteen minutes later, Caleb had efficiently assembled a team in her living room, except for Stevens, who listened in on speakerphone.
Marley could barely focus as the men discussed the situation in urgent tones. Patrick had her father and Sam. He’d taken so much from her already. Several pieces of her heart, her ability to trust, her confidence and now he wanted to take her family?
“We can use a decoy,” she heard Hernandez suggest.
Marley’s head whipped up.
“We’ve got an officer in vice who’s about Marley’s height and build,” the detective continued. “We’ll set her up with a wig and a wire, and send her in to—”
“No.”
The men swiveled their heads in her direction, stunned into silence by the vehemence in that one word.
“Marley,” Caleb began, “I know you’re upset, but we’re doing everything we can to get your dad and brother back.”
“You can’t send in a decoy,” she insisted. “He’ll know.”
Hernandez glanced at her in annoyance. “Officer Gray is trained to—”
“I don’t give a damn what she’s trained to do,” she snapped. “I’m telling you, Patrick will know the second she gets out of the car that she isn’t me. We were engaged, Detective. He’ll know.”
Silence descended over the room again.
“What exactly are you getting at?” Caleb asked, sounding extremely wary.
She drew in a steadying breath. “I should be the one to go.”
“No way,” Caleb jumped to his feet. “No way, Marley.”
“Why not? I can take the money, give it to him in exchange for my dad and Sammy, and then you guys can catch him when he tries to leave.”
“It’s not that simple,” Caleb said. “He’s bound to have a weapon. He could shoot you and your family the second he gets the cash.”
She lifted her chin. “So give me a bulletproof vest.”
“And if he shoots you in the head?”
She swallowed hard. “I need to do this, Caleb. I won’t let him hurt my family, and if you try to send in some fake version of me, he will hurt them.”
She studied the faces of the men. Caleb’s partner was looking at her with what appeared to be admiration, the two DEA agents looked as if they were mulling over what she’d said, the SDPD officers were stone-faced and Hernandez watched her with serious dark eyes.
“Do you think you can get him outside?” the detective asked.
Caleb spun around to glare at Hernandez. “What are you doing? She’s not going in there, damn it!”
“It could work,” Hernandez replied. “She gives him the money, and then convinces him she wants to run off with him. Kincaid Sr. and Jr. remain in the house, and Marley and Grier head outside where we’ll have a team waiting.”
“He’ll spot us,” AJ spoke up.
“Not if we stay out of sight until Marley gives the signal they’re coming out,” Hernandez countered. He looked over at her again. “Do you think you’ll be able to do this?”
She hesitated. Convince Patrick she still loved him, that she wanted to flee the country with him? The very idea of seeing his face again made her feel sick.
But what about her dad? What about Sammy? Could she really let them be taken away from her simply because she felt ill at the thought of being near Patrick?
&n
bsp; She exhaled. “I can do it.”
“No,” Caleb said again. He stepped toward her, his features hard. “I won’t let you put your life in danger. We can handle this.”
“No, you can’t. Patrick won’t open that door to anyone but me.”
She stared into Caleb’s blue eyes, floored by the agony she saw in them. He was scared. Scared for her.
“I’m scared, too,” she murmured as if he’d vocalized his fear. “But you’ll be right outside to protect me.”
He nodded. “Always,” he said softly.
Something inside her chest dislodged. It took her a moment to figure out what it was—the jagged little pieces of anger and bitterness that had clung to her heart after Caleb had told her the truth. The shards had disappeared, as an important realization dawned on her. This man would do anything to protect her. She mattered to him.
Acceptance settled over her like a warm blanket. Caleb wasn’t a sick voyeur who’d decided to prey on her. He was a cop on a stakeout, a man trying to avenge his friend’s death. Could she really hold that against him? He might have lied to her, but now he was doing everything in his power to keep her safe.
“I can do this, Caleb,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “Trust me to do this.”
His shoulders tightened at the word trust. She knew what he was thinking. The question he’d been wanting to ask her since last night. Can you trust me again?
Now she was asking it of him.
And even though she could tell it went against everything he believed in, letting someone else venture into a dangerous situation instead of him, he nodded and said, “I trust you.”
MARLEY’S ENTIRE BODY trembled as she shut off the engine of her convertible. The bungalow she’d grown up in, where her dad and brother still lived, looked so harmless and cozy, but there was nothing harmless about this situation, was there? Patrick was inside that house, holding her family hostage, all so he could get his greedy hands on some cash. To flee from the law, to get away with murder.