“His car was in the lot when I left-which was about twenty minutes after Belinda blew me off. It took me that long to screw up enough courage to go back down and face what I thought would be a round of jeers from my buddies. But I guess Belinda didn’t say anything, and they didn’t see her come down, because all I got were winks and thumbs-ups.”
Romana visualized the scene, told herself there was nothing funny about it. Still… “Honest to God, Mick, you men and your trophies.” She slid from the desk. “Okay, relax. In-terrogation’s over. What time does Jacob’s shift start?”
“Nine.” He waited a beat, then said, “You’ve got that thing happening for him again, don’t you? No lies, Romana. We’ve been friends too long for that.”
“No lies.” She brought her head around. “No comment, either. Direct me, Mick. He’s not here, he’s not at the hospital, he’s not on duty, and he’s not answering. I need a location.”
“Try the gym,” he suggested. “When Knight has a problem crawling around in his gut, he likes to sweat it out.”
She wouldn’t ask, Romana promised herself. Didn’t want to know. She made it as far as the office door before glancing back.
O’Keefe’s smile was resigned, but all he said was, “I wish to hell I had an answer for you. I know there’s something that didn’t come out at the hearing, something that’s been eating away at him ever since.” His eyes held hers. “Whatever it is, and with Critch on the loose, hell bent on having his revenge, my gut feeling is that you’re going to wind up in the middle of it-with no way back, and, more than likely, no way out.”
ONE OF DYLAN’S FISTS nicked his jaw. Jacob licked blood from the corner of his mouth and felt the fire inside swell.
Dylan danced back and forth on his toes, expending energy, breathing in controlled bursts. Jacob preferred a mental dance and slow, assessing circles that, for the most part, took him out of range whenever his opponent bounced in.
“Kick it back up, Knight,” an impatient Dylan growled. “We’re not cats in an alley.”
They weren’t kangaroos in the outback, either. “I’ll kick it up,” Jacob replied. And offered a dangerous smile. “When it feels right.”
Dylan blew out more loud breaths. His lungs appeared to be tiring, which actually surprised Jacob a little. From the look of his muscles, Hoag should have been in better shape.
He let Dylan come to him, offset the left hook and faked a right. Dylan was so busy protecting his face that he missed the body blow completely. It caught him in the solar plexus and elicited a rush of air that left him doubled over and gasping.
But only for a moment. Then the dancing stopped, and he charged.
It was exactly what Jacob wanted.
Dylan’s fingers missed his throat by inches. When Jacob snaked an arm around his neck, he felt an elbow plunge into his stomach. It hurt, but not enough to throw him off. Snugging his grip, he gave Dylan’s ribs a hard jab. In response, Dylan butted him on the side of the neck.
Jacob felt sweat slither down his spine. The desire for more was a hunger inside him. The pain felt good, and every punch, every kick, every lash knocked another cobweb loose.
His mind felt clearer than it had in days. Didn’t diminish his desire for Romana, but the clutter around it was disappearing. He could meet his feelings for her head-on and, hopefully, put them in their place. Wherever the hell that was.
Reading Dylan’s body language, he anticipated the next blow and dipped his left shoulder just enough that Hoag’s knuckles bounced off bone. With adrenaline zinging through his veins, Jacob spun, kicked Dylan’s legs out from under him and planted him face-down on the mat.
Dylan’s curses emerged in a rough growl. He jerked under Jacob’s body weight but couldn’t free himself.
Jacob leaned over. “Had enough?”
Dylan snapped up his head and swore. “You’re bigger than me, Knight. You have a longer reach.”
“You weigh more than I do.” Jacob held him down for another moment before relaxing his hold. “No rules, Hoag.”
“Yeah, you said that before.”
As he spoke, Dylan worked himself onto his back. His lips peeled away from his teeth. Without warning, he doubled his fists and raised them like a hammer.
But Jacob wasn’t foolish enough to have trusted a spiteful adversary. Despite Dylan’s weight advantage, he blocked the worst of the blow.
The spark reignited. He’d have let it erupt if he hadn’t caught a movement in the doorway.
Glancing up, he saw Romana leaning on the wide jamb. She had one hand hooked over the opposite elbow as she observed the fight.
The mistake was his. If he hadn’t looked, he’d have seen Dylan draw back his foot. What he saw instead was the expression of shock that bolted across Romana’s face.
Only a kick aimed straight at his crotch could elicit an expression like that. A split second before Dylan’s foot contacted, Jacob rolled sideways. He plunged his heel into Hoag’s side, directly into his kidneys.
While Dylan crumpled and wheezed, Jacob did a slower roll into a crouch. With one hand dangling between his knees, and the fingers of his other checking out the cut on his mouth, he regarded Romana from the ground.
“How’d you track me down?”
“I talked to O’Keefe.” Wincing in sympathy, she pushed off to approach them. “Is he all right?”
“Will be.” Jacob located his towel and stood. “We said nine for the mall, didn’t we?”
She sent Dylan a last commiserating look, then refocused. “We didn’t specify.” Accusation gleamed in her eyes. “And you didn’t call.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“No, but I’m feeling irritable, and here you are, fresh from a head-clearing workout that I wish I’d thought of for myself.”
A faint grin appeared. He held his hands out to the side. “You wanna go, Officer Grey? Tank’s not empty yet.”
At his offer, her approach, in fact her entire demeanor, altered. Instead of simply walking, she began to sashay, in a way that could only be called bombshell seductive. “Are you challenging me, Detective Knight? Because I’m always up for that.”
Still nursing his injured side, Dylan gained his feet. “Watch for silent bullets, Romana. It’s the only way Knight knows how to deal with a woman.”
She kept moving, her eyes locked on Jacob’s. “Oh, I think he knows one or two other ways.Your left cheek’s bleeding, Dylan.”
He touched the bone, swore and limped away.
“I think you riled him, Knight.”
He heard a soft snap in his head, wondered where all the light had gone. “I might have.”
“He’s wrong, you know.”
“So you said.” Off-kilter and edgy because of it, Jacob watched her closely. Dylan Hoag he could handle. Romana in this mood was a more difficult proposition. To say nothing of more dangerous.
She halted less than a foot in front of him, made two fists and jammed them against his stomach muscles. “You look good without a shirt.”
“Clothes are restrictive.” His eyebrows went up. “You gonna take your shot now, or wait until you’ve destroyed my guard completely?”
“No rules, Knight.” Her eyes danced. “Besides, I prefer to bide my time in hand-to-hand combat.”
He wondered if a person could drown in eyes like hers. It seemed possible since simply breathing had become a major undertaking. If he’d been hot before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now.
And wasn’t that just what he needed after everything he’d done to close down his feelings for her tonight?
She pressed her fists in deeper. “So what’s the deal? Are we going to do it or not?”
He had to realign his thoughts. “You want to fight?”
“It’s an option.” The dance became a tease. “But I like my idea better.”
With a quickness Dylan Hoag could only dream of, she snatched up two handfuls of Jacob’s damp hair and
