would clear Cruz conclusively of any wrongdoing in the gun supply. But now with evidence of an extra source of income, the IA could get a warrant to delve deeper into his financials, tracing every deposit made in his accounts. She hadn’t proved his innocence, but neither had she come up with any evidence of his guilt.
She began to drive, thoughts still distracted. Her father had never forgiven her for her error in judgment in trusting her ex-fiance. He had certainly never forgotten it. She hadn’t allowed herself to forget it, either. Instead of learning from her mistake and moving past it, she’d allowed it to dictate her behavior and responses for the next several years. She’d drawn no conclusions, made no inferences that couldn’t be backed up with piece after piece of solid evidence. She’d thought it made for the best police work, but certainly there was room for her own intuition. Perhaps completely ducking emotional responses wasn’t as clear-cut as she’d thought. In fact, it smacked a bit of cowardice.
It appeared as though she’d come to a point in her life where she had to make some choices. She could continue as she had for the past few years, worshiping at the altar of empirical evidence. Or she could temper good police work with her own insight. As a police officer, she’d forgiven herself for any mistakes she’d made, and learned from them. She hadn’t been as merciful to herself in her personal life.
Without completely remembering the trip there, she found herself parked in front of Cruz’s place. She stared at the building for a time. She should call his cell. There was no reason to have this conversation in person.
But because that choice smacked of cowardice, she got out of the car and walked up to the door.
Unsurprisingly, it was locked. She rang the button beneath his name. It was several moments before she heard his voice answer with a brusque, “Yeah?”
The sound of his voice kept her speechless for a minute, and he repeated his greeting with even less patience. Finally she found her tongue and said, “Cruz, it’s Madeline. Can I come up for a minute?”
The pause after her question seemed interminable, as though he were weighing his answer. Finally he buzzed her in.
He was waiting for her when she got off the elevator, the front door to his apartment open. She followed him inside, swallowing hard at the sight of the bare expanse of his broad back. Closing the door behind them, he leaned against it, sticking his hands into his pockets, perusing her.
She stared back hypnotically, entranced by the wide shoulders and chest delineated by his pose. Gaze drifting downward, she felt her stomach tighten when she saw that all he wore was a pair of obscenely well-fitted jeans, worn almost white, which sheathed his muscles erotically.
“What are you doing here, Maddy?”
Her eyes jerked to his. His expression looked no more welcoming than his words sounded, and again she questioned her wisdom in coming here. Her power of speech seemed to have momentarily deserted her. Then the pungent aroma in the apartment seeped through her consciousness and she whirled around to look at the living room. “Oh, you’ve been varnishing,” she exclaimed artlessly, taking a few steps to the entrance of the room.
“Just finished,” he replied. “Had to leave a path so that I could get to the stairs tonight. I’ll get up early tomorrow and finish it before I go to work.” She looked toward the kitchen, where he had brushes soaking in a container in the sink.
“That’s what I came to talk to you about.” She seized the topic with relief.
“Varnishing?”
She ignored the skeptical note in his tone. “No, work. Something the Wynn manager said has really been bothering me. Did you hear me ask him about the pen?”
He nodded slowly. “He said there weren’t any around with advertising for Andersen on them.”
“Well?” she demanded. “Do you think it means anything? Andersen was positive when he told us they could be found there.”
Cruz was slow to answer. “It wouldn’t mean much by itself. But there was something else that was said today that bugged me, so when you left this afternoon, I did a little digging.”
“And?”
He almost smiled at her eagerness. She looked different somehow, as if the tiredness and worry of the past few days had been erased. Her face was aglow and her gorgeous green eyes were alight with interest. He felt a pang of jealousy that it was work that put that look on her face. “The foreman mentioned today that Andersen has a warehouse on the docks. And Ramsey said Cantoney had bought the gun on the docks.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket, holding it up to stem what he was sure would be her protest. “I know it’s a stretch. There are miles of docks, and it could have been anywhere.”
“I wasn’t going to say that. Because I think you might be on to something. Remember, Valdez is connected, however remotely, to Andersen Steel. He could have easily found out where their warehouse is. Who knows? He might have decided that it was a perfect place to do business.”
Cruz nodded bemusedly. He was relieved that she agreed with him on this, because he would have been hard- pressed to convince her. He’d been a detective long enough to trust his instincts, and something about the connection between Valdez and the warehouse nagged at him. He couldn’t put it into words, but when he had a feeling this strong, he had to follow it, or it would drive him crazy until he did.
“Well, I’m glad you agree. Because I was going to suggest that we stake out that warehouse and see if Valdez shows up to do any more business.” His tone was dour, which perfectly matched his mood Thinking about spending the next God-knows-how-many nights in the car with Maddy, sitting next to her shrouded in darkness, was enough to make him want to chew nails. Somehow he didn’t think the experience was going to do his system, already tight with frustration, any good.
He raised a bare foot to push himself away from the door and strode to the refrigerator. Pulling it open, he extracted two bottles of water and silently offered one to her.
She took it, wondering at the care he took to make sure their hands didn’t touch.
Twisting off the top with barely concealed violence, he drank a long swallow before lowering his bottle to survey her. If she didn’t leave soon, he wasn’t going to be responsible for his actions, but she didn’t seem in any discernible hurry. That realization, coupled with the fact that his partially clad presence didn’t seem to be bothering her in the least, made his tone uncustomarily caustic. “You’d better run along home and catch some sleep. When we start that stakeout, it’ll be a while before you’ll get a full eight hours again.”
She noted his tone and wondered at it. In fact, his whole manner tonight seemed out of character for him. He hadn’t made one wisecrack, had not uttered one teasing remark. His lopsided grin was very much absent, and for one heart-stopping moment she wondered guiltily if he could have somehow learned of her investigation of him. Even as she mentally discounted that possibility, her pulse raced at the thought. Cruz was a man of strong emotions, and she knew without being told that he would value loyalty above all things. What would he say if he ever discovered it?
She thought she knew the answer to that question. And she would make sure he didn’t ever find out. She’d played it safe all her life, never taking a risk, always weighing the odds. Until the night they’d made love. Now she was tempted to take another risk, one she hadn’t considered having to make. She’d made it very clear to him that there could be nothing between them. Could she summon the courage to tell him of her change of heart? It would require more bravery than she was sure she bad. There was nothing in his manner to suggest that he cared one way or the other.
“Actually, I lied to you,” she stated baldly, and watched wariness flicker into his eyes.
“About what?”
“I didn’t come here to talk about work. I wanted to tell you that-” here her voice hesitated “-that I was wrong the other day when I insisted that we didn’t have a relationship.”
He stared at her, saying nothing.
His silence wasn’t the most promising answer she could have dreamed of, and she bit her lip. Those dark eyes were trained on her, and she allowed herself to be hypnotized by their intense depths. “You were right,” she continued, her voice husky, “when you said I was scared.”
“You denied it.” The words sounded rusty to Cruz’s ears.
“You scared me. The way you made me feel. I couldn’t trust it. I didn’t want to trust it,” she corrected herself.
Still he didn’t move, and his brow furrowed, as if he were having difficulty comprehending her words. At his inactivity, she felt her resolve for honesty vanish. Even the hardiest egos needed a little feedback. She’d almost decided to turn tail and run when his voice stopped her.
