Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers Page 4

  He stared at her nipples where they poked against the thin cotton fabric of her top.

  Sophia realized she was just standing there with the backs of her hands still pressed

  against the wall even though he was no longer holding her. It had to be the lack of sleep

  that was making her act this way. Lowering her arms, she crossed them over her chest.

  Not that she had much to cover, but it was the principle of the thing.

  "I need to go get dressed," she muttered. She needed the protective armor of her

  clothing to face this man.

  She turned to head to the bedroom, but he stopped her in her tracks without even

  touching her. "Please," he whispered softly. "I just want to talk." Reaching into the back

  pocket of his jeans, he drew out a slim leather wallet and opened it, displaying a badge.

  Leaning closer, she stared at it, her eyes narrowing. "That says you're a New York

  cop." She took a cautious step backward, although where she thought she was going,

  she didn't know. He was already inside her apartment and had had plenty of

  opportunity to hurt her if that was his intention. "Why is a New York cop interested in

  a death in New Orleans?"

  "Now that's the question, isn't it?"

  Chapter Three

  Zane stared at Sophia, unable to tear his gaze away from her as he slipped his

  badge back into his pocket. He could see the caution tinged with distrust as she

  narrowed her eyes, studying him. Pale green. Her eyes were the softest pale green he'd

  ever seen, making her appear even more like a fairy from a child's book of tales. But if

  she was a fairy, she was damn sure the queen. There was nothing soft or ethereal in the

  way she regarded him. If she'd had the strength, he was sure he'd be out on his ass

  right now. He rubbed his fingers over his face, hiding a grin behind his hand.

  Her eyes narrowed further as if she suspected he was laughing at her, but she said

  nothing. He'd been right about her lips. They were soft and plump and he'd barely

  resisted the impulse to nip at them. Instead he'd contented himself with just touching

  them with his tongue, tasting them with his mouth. As kisses went, it had barely gotten

  started, but it had been the most erotic kiss of his entire life.

  "Why don't we sit down?" He kept his voice low, unthreatening. His eyes were

  drawn to where her arms were still crossed over her chest. When he'd had her pressed

  back against the wall, he'd felt the hard nubs of her breasts pressing against his chest.

  He wanted to strip that thin tank top over her head and feast on her flesh. She wasn't

  very large, but he had a feeling that she'd be very sensitive. He wanted to know if her

  nipples were the same dusky pink as her lips.

  "Let's not," she snapped, dropping her arms by her side. "Have a good look, ask

  your questions and then get out."

  He knew she'd meant to make him feel guilty or ashamed for staring at her chest,

  but he felt neither of those things. Instead, taking her at her word, he took his time,

  slowly perusing her body from top to bottom. His eyes burned as he studied the V at

  the top of her thighs. Was she wet for him? He'd bet anything that if he slipped his

  hands inside her drawstring pants and pushed aside her panties, he'd find her soft folds

  slick with need.

  "Oh, for God's sake, is this junior high?" The disgust in her tone brought his gaze

  back to hers.

  He shrugged, totally unrepentant. "You offered." Her cheeks were tinged a light

  red and he realized that she was blushing. He'd been right about the freckles too. She

  only had a couple, but they were there, scattered like fairy dust on either side of her

  nose.

  "We both know there's not much to see, so can we get on with the questions?"

  Turning on her heel, she spun around and stomped over to a chair in the corner. At

  least she tried to stomp. It wasn't easy for a woman to stomp when she was wearing

  soft slippers with, if he wasn't mistaken, puppy-dog heads.

  "I beg to differ." He sauntered into the room behind her and sat on the low coffee

  table in front of her. "There is definitely plenty to see and most of it is quite

  spectacular." He had no idea why he was teasing her, flirting with her in this way. Not

  only was it totally inappropriate, but it was also totally out of character for him. There

  was something inside him that wanted her to know just how beautiful he found her.

  Somehow he knew that she hadn't heard those words much in her lifetime and that was

  a crime. There was something about her that left him feeling almost lightheaded with

  need.

  She snorted at him as she sat back and crossed her legs. Leaning her elbows on the

  arms of the chair, she steepled her fingers and eyed him thoughtfully. "Is this related to

  any case in New York?"

  He could almost see the wheels of her head turning and knew she was thinking

  serial killer. He shook his head. "Nope. I used to be a cop here and this is of personal

  interest to me."

  Her face paled and she leaned forward. "Were you a friend of the victim?"

  Her immediate sympathy made his stomach clench. "No." He shook his head again.

  "But I think it might be related to some other incidents that happened several years

  ago."

  "Tell me." All signs of sympathy were gone from her voice, replaced by her

  clipped, no-nonsense voice. This was no Southern belle, but a transplanted Yankee. He

  wondered how she'd ended up so far south.

  "It's confidential and, at this point, circumstantial. No one else is considering this

  angle but me." Her chin tilted up and her lips thinned. She was stubborn, no doubt

  about it. He could easily sneak back into her home when she was asleep tonight and

  check her computer and her files, but for some unknown reason, he wanted her to

  freely share any information she had with him.

  "Not good enough." She kicked her foot absently as she studied him, making the

  dog's ears on her slipper wave back and forth. He grinned, unable to stop himself. Her

  eyes followed his and she swore as she uncrossed her legs and set her foot firmly on the

  floor. "They were a present from a friend, okay?"

  "They're cute. They suit you." And he realized that they did. There was something

  soft and cuddly about the slippers that suited her.

  "That's what she said too." She went back to business immediately. "What do you

  know about this case?"

  "Nothing." He held up his hands in mock surrender when she scowled at him.

  "Okay, I know about as much as you do." He rattled off what he knew about the victim,

  ending with the fact that the young woman hadn't had any enemies and the boyfriend

  had checked out clean. It was believed that she was the victim of a random act of

  violence.

  Sophia shook her head vehemently. "It didn't seem random. Something about her

  drew the killer to her. What was it? The way he had her laid out, naked from the waist

  up with her arms spread straight out by her sides, seemed almost ritualistic. She didn't

  land that way on her own. He positioned her intentionally. Why the cemetery and why

  did he drain her blood?"

  Zane's chest swelled with pride. "You think like a cop."

  She shrugged. "I've been doing this for a few years--you watch and you learn."

  Scooting to the edge of her chair,
she leaned forward until their noses were almost

  touching. "What do you know?"

  Sighing, he leaned away when all he wanted to do was yank her into his arms and

  tumble them both to the floor. His hormones were definitely in overdrive when it came

  to wanting to claim this woman. He wanted to mark her as his so that every other man

  she met would know that she belonged to him.

  He wanted to rage against the feeling even as he wanted to slide his cock into her

  naked body and pound into her until they were both sweaty and crying out their

  release.

  "I can't tell you." He'd never trusted anyone with what he suspected. For that

  matter, he'd never trusted anyone with anything. Not since his father had died.

  He shoved that dark memory out of his mind. That was a long time ago and had

  nothing to do with this.

  She stood then, bringing her stomach right in line with his face. He'd only have to

  reach up the tiniest bit to be able to take her nipple into his mouth. He barely

  swallowed a groan as his cock began to throb again. Before he could reach out and yank

  her into his arms, she stepped away and headed back to the door. There was no doubt

  that he'd worn out his welcome and she was tossing him out on his ear.

  He had a choice to make.

  His head was advising caution. He could sneak back later when she was asleep or

  the next time she went out again. But some deeper instinct was telling him to trust her.

  Since his instincts had saved his life more times than he could count, he decided to trust

  them.

  "You can't tell anyone."

  She stilled and turned slowly around. She stared at him long and hard, as if trying

  to decide if she could trust him to keep his word. He deserved that, he supposed, but it

  still made him bristle.

  A series of raps came on the door. Zane was on his feet in a second, striding toward

  her, drawing his weapon as he went. She blinked at him as he pushed her behind him.

  "You expecting anyone?"

  "Pizza." She stepped out around him, eyeing the nine-millimeter semiautomatic he

  had clutched in his right hand. "And I'm really hungry, so don't shoot the delivery

  guy."

  He grinned in spite of himself. Damn, but this woman had guts. "I'll just check." He

  didn't wait for her consent, but went to the door and peered out through the peephole.

  A bored teenage boy stood there with a large box in his hand and a bag in the other. He

  holstered his weapon, unlocked the door and opened it.

  "Delivery." The young man rattled off the amount and Sophia all but pushed him

  aside and handed several crisp bills to the delivery guy. He took the money and walked

  away, sending a "thanks" over his shoulder.

  Sophia hustled back to the living room, pizza in hand, leaving him to close and lock

  the door. He guessed that meant that he was invited to stay for supper. The corners of

  his mouth twitched upward into a slow smile. Maybe he'd be invited to stay for dessert

  as well. Shutting the door and turning the locks, he followed her back into the living

  room.

  The delicious aroma of tomato sauce and cheese wafted from the box she was

  carrying, but Sophia's appetite had disappeared. Zane York was a mystery. He wasn't

  directly involved in the investigation, at least not in an official capacity. But he did

  know something. Or at least he thought he did.

  He sure was jumpy. He'd been by her side with his weapon drawn before she could

  blink. For a large man, he sure could move quickly. She'd found herself staring at his

  back before she could open her mouth to question him. It was a strange feeling to have

  someone try to protect her. Not that she needed it. She was more than capable of taking

  care of herself. She'd been on her own since she was sixteen. But still, it was nice that

  he'd wanted to.

  The living room, which was normally cozy and inviting, seemed almost too small

  with him in it. Zane seemed to take up too much space and suck up almost all the air.

  Sophia shook her head and sighed. She must be hungrier than she imagined. It was the

  only reasonable explanation for such fanciful thoughts.

  Dropping the box on the scarred wooden coffee table, she sat back in her chair. The

  small sofa would have been better, but she needed some space from Zane. The man was

  too potently male. He distracted her.

  Digging into the bag, she drew out a bottle of soda and some napkins. Zane had

  followed her back into the room and lowered himself to the edge of her sofa. Well, it

  was a loveseat really. She didn't have room for a full-sized sofa. The blue fabric with its

  smattering of flowers was comfortable enough, but most importantly, it matched her

  chair and fit into the space.

  "Help yourself." She opened the box and grabbed a slice of pizza, looping the

  warm, stringy cheese around the crust before bringing it to her mouth and taking a

  huge bite. She closed her eyes and chewed. Spices exploded against her tongue and she

  groaned as she swallowed. Her stomach growled, reminding her it had been quite some

  time since she'd bothered to feed it.

  She opened her eyes to find Zane staring at her. No, not at her, at her throat. When

  she'd closed her eyes and swallowed, she'd tilted her head back. His gaze wandered

  upward to her mouth. Pure, unadulterated lust filled his gaze. She choked on what was

  left of her pizza, coughing and sputtering as her eyes began to water. No man had ever

  given her such a carnal look in all her thirty years.

  Leaning over, he handed her the bottle of soda as he rubbed her back. She pushed

  his hand away from her as she sipped some of the liquid and swallowed her pizza.

  "You okay?"

  She nodded, lowering her head for a moment, letting the deep, seductive tones of

  his voice flow over her.

  Sitting back, she tossed the remainder of her piece of pizza back into the box,

  knowing she wasn't going to be able to eat with him sitting across from her watching

  every bite. "Tell me what you know. Or," she grabbed a napkin and wiped her fingers,

  "what you think you know."

  Zane sat back and crossed his booted foot over his knee. It pulled the fabric of his

  jeans tight against his thighs, outlining the thick muscles there. She forced herself to

  look at his face and focus on what he was saying. Normally she had no trouble

  concentrating on work. In fact, she was usually obsessed by her work. There was

  something about this man that threw her off balance and she didn't like it. Not one bit.

  It gave him power over her.

  "Do you remember Jethro Prince?"

  Sophia took a sip of soda as she searched her memory. "Club owner. Suspected of

  dabbling in every crime from gambling to drugs to prostitution. Found dead about

  three years ago in an upstairs office at his club." She thought further, tapping her finger

  against the edge of the sweaty bottle. "He and his right-hand man were both killed. The

  police said it was gang-related."

  "That's what they said."

  It wasn't so much what Zane said, but how he said it that had her reporter's

  instincts humming. "That's what they said," she repeated. "You don't agree?"

  He didn't answer her, but asked her another question. "Do you remember that a

  little while before that, there wa
s talk that several of Prince's men went missing?"

  Again she searched her memory. Leaning forward, she placed her bottle on the

  table. "They never found any bodies."

  "That's right."

  Her mind was spinning, but she couldn't make any connections. "How are those

  two incidents related to this murder?"

  Zane shrugged. "I don't know. They might not be related at all, but my gut is telling

  me otherwise."

  She knew all about gut instincts. It was what separated ordinary reporters from

  those who became the best. She'd always had a nose for sniffing out the truth and those

  instincts were telling her that Zane was on to something. Maybe something big.

  "What do you think?"

  He sat forward, planting both large feet on the floor and clasping his hands

  between his spread thighs. "The incident in the alleyway involved a woman named

  Delight Deveraux. She'd witnessed a murder and was caught when she ran from the

  killers. The men turned up missing and she escaped. She claimed she didn't know what

  happened to them."

  Sophia nodded, remembering more of the details of the case. "Trauma. Fear. It's

  possible she blocked it all out." She couldn't imagine what that poor woman had gone

  through.

  "Then came the death of Prince a short time later. Both he and his man, Smith, were

  found with their necks broken. No one saw anyone go up to the office. There was no

  screaming, no fighting. Nothing."

  Sophia scuffed her slippers back and forth. "Unusual, but then again, maybe not.

  Most folks don't want to get involved, especially when it involves organized crime. It's

  a good way to end up buried in an unmarked grave at the bottom of a swamp."

  Zane raised an eyebrow, acknowledging her point. "One of the detectives on the

  Deveraux case was Sam Cassidy. He's a good cop--or at least I thought he was."

  "You think he's hiding something."

  "Maybe. He's not a cop any longer." Zane reached out and took her hand in his,

  playing with her fingers. She tried to concentrate as he rubbed his thumb in slow circles

  over the top of her hand. "He was also the first on the scene at Prince's club. He

  discovered the bodies."

  "Why was he there?"

  "That's what I asked him. He said he'd gotten a tip."

  "That's plausible." After all, she got tips all the time. That's how a lot of police work