she’d been feeling all afternoon since going to see Rome in his office bothered her. It wasn’t just lust. That she could deal with. She had more than enough toys at home to get her off, if it was only about release. But when he’d touched her, the way he’d looked at her—the heat moving between the two of them as if they were the only people in that room—was disconcerting. The remnants of those weird feelings stuck with her the remainder of the day, pulling her mind in different directions, causing what felt like ripples of something beneath her skin.
For whatever reason, she wanted to get away from Roman Reynolds. Far, far away.
“No! You’ve got to find something. I know it’s there. The account is located where?”
“Nova National Bank in Natal, Brazil.”
“Any movement on the money from there?”
“Some debits but they’re all made by him, for cash. There’s no telling what he did with the money when he took it out.” No ties to their known cartel contacts and no illegal dealings on record. Either Reynolds was super smart, or he was innocent. She didn’t want to place too much confidence in the latter, especially after the dark vibes she’d gotten from him earlier.
“Maybe you’re looking at the wrong records.”
“What? We need to track his money. What other records would I look for besides bank accounts and financial files?”
“We need to track his movements, any movement that Reynolds makes. We need to know his contacts, who he calls on his office line, his private line, and his cell phone.”
She could see where this was going, and it was info the DEA could have already secured themselves. Putting her in Reynolds’s office didn’t make her privy to his phone records. “Okay, pull his phone records,” she suggested.
“Not enough. We need a personal connection, paperwork linking him to people in South America, specific people.”
Like carriers, runners, buyers. She got that part. Still, she had a suspicion Ferrell was talking about much more. When this assignment was first presented to her, they’d said it was all about the movement of Reynolds’s money. He had too much, most people in DC thought, to be just a lawyer. He was a good lawyer, a dynamic litigator with tons of high-profile clients. Still, he’d come from seemingly ordinary parents who were killed when he was just a young boy. There was no large inheritance, and no rich family member had stepped in to raise him. The only other logical explanation for his financial status was drug-related. Was this profiling on the DEA’s part? Of course, but as bad as it seemed, Kalina felt compelled to do her job.
There was one thing she’d discovered in her investigation of Roman Reynolds, one small fact that stuck with her. After the death of his parents, Roman hadn’t become a ward of the state. Even though he had no parents, he wasn’t an orphan like her. Somebody had wanted him, loved him enough to keep him safe and to raise him into a successful man. Twinges of hurt pushed at her and Kalina pushed back, refusing to entertain another pity party.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, because at the end of the day, the job was all she had.
“Get the information we need” was his simple reply.
“How?”
“You’re the detective, Harper. Find it!”
The line went dead and Kalina restrained a string of curses that she could have gladly hurled at Ferrell. But she wanted more. Damn her, she wanted that promotion. This case would propel her in that direction.
Slamming the phone into her clutch purse, she stood from the desk. She was going to find him the information he wanted, turn in a kick-ass report that would lead to a warrant to arrest Roman Reynolds, then hopefully an indictment and conviction. Oh yeah, this was going to work out just fine, she convinced herself as she took the elevator up to the seventh floor. Pulling out her phone again she quickly dialed the office number, happy to receive the after-hours recording. Bypassing the nasal recorded voice, she punched in Rome’s extension and was rewarded again with a recorded message.
He was gone for the day.
The seventh floor was just about vacant. If there was anyone working late, they were in an office and not out and paying attention to what she was about to do.
She was an officer of the law, she told herself the moment she approached Rome’s office door. Taking a deep breath she vowed, “An officer of the law who needs this promotion.” Testing the knob to see if the door was locked, she sighed, then reached into her pocket to find the bobby pin she’d stuck there. Picking a lock shouldn’t be easy for a cop, but a few seconds later the click of the bolt sliding out of the way made her smile.
Rome’s chest constricted, betrayal gripping him with indescribable strength. He didn’t know her, and yet he did. So what she was doing scraped against his already raw emotions where she was concerned. He wanted to growl, to roar his displeasure as loud as he could, but knew that was not an option.
In addition to the sting of betrayal he felt the scorch of lust, the punch of desire that almost left him breathless the moment she slipped into his office. He’d gone into his private bathroom to freshen up before heading out to the meeting, but the moment he’d picked up her scent he’d stopped. Two seconds later she was closing the door to his office, moving toward his desk.
Curious what she was looking for, he’d stood in the shadow of the partially opened bathroom door watching, waiting. She turned on the computer and tried to guess his security code to log in. He wasn’t afraid; she’d never figure it out. It was everything else that gave him pause. Why was she here? What was she looking for? And who had sent her?
Taking a slow step forward, he vowed to get all the answers he needed, and the touch of her that he craved. No matter what the cost.
Kalina was on her fourth try, using every variation on his name, his initials, and the firm’s initials that she could think of. “Dammit!” she whispered, then let her fingers rest on the keyboard while she considered.
Thoughts of passwords were interrupted by warmth against her neck, then the distinct sting of a bite against her shoulder. Jumping up out of the chair, she was already reaching behind her back for her gun, only to confront disappointment. She’d worn a dress today, not conducive to sticking a Glock in her waistband. Inside her purse was a .38, but that wasn’t doing her any good at the moment since it was a few inches away on the desk.
As it stood she was cornered, her bottom pressing into the desk behind her since she’d turned to see who or what was biting her. It was him, and she wasn’t surprised.
All her life she’d had a great sense of perception. Generally she could sense even when someone was simply staring at her. So she should have known someone was coming up behind her. Yet she hadn’t heard a sound, hadn’t been aware of any presence but her own. But here he stood, Roman Reynolds, not a foot away from her and moving closer.
“Looking for something?” His voice was deeper than it had been when she’d been in his office earlier.
And that wasn’t the only difference. He seemed bigger, if that were possible. Taller, his shoulders broader, his face still handsome as sin, but now tinged with a lethally dangerous look that had her heart skipping.
“I forgot to send an email,” she said, struggling to come up with a reason for being here at this time of day.
His arms moved and she reached back to grab her purse. Rome had a reputation for being dark, brooding, not necessarily dangerous, but not on the personable side, either. That’s what she’d read about him. What she was feeling right at this very moment wasn’t exactly a threat in the normal sense of the word.
The minute her hand was on her purse and she was struggling to get the zipper open with one hand, he touched her. Both his large hands cupped her cheeks, tilting her head up so that she was staring right into his face.
She swallowed. “I thought I could send it from your computer and head out for the day. That way I wouldn’t have to go all the way back downstairs.”
“Did you know that lies smell, Kalina?”
He leaned his face forward, inhaling deeply.
Her legs literally shook, knees knocking and all. And yet she wasn’t afraid. She was aroused. So much so that her panties were already damp, nipples tingling as his broad chest just barely brushed over them.
