She’d have to give him a bit of leeway, since his pushiness stemmed from Perry being a good detective. Something told her even if he knew the complete truth about her, he would still push her harder than she could tolerate. And training him to submit might be damn near an impossible task.
After listening another minute and not hearing anything, Kylie walked quietly into her kitchen. And barely had time to react when a dark shadow leapt at her. Strong arms wrapped around her and she was yanked backward, all the air flying from her lungs with a loud grunt when she slapped against a body of steel.
Try as she would to turn the grunt into something more civilized sounding, a gloved hand crushed over her mouth.
“Why do you have surveillance equipment installed in your home?” Perry whispered against her ear.
Adrenaline hit her hard enough to make her dizzy. Then hearing Perry’s voice, his rough whisper that tortured her ear and the flesh on the side of her neck, sent other emotions skyrocketing out of control.
Instead of answering, she bucked, doubling over and then swinging back hard with her elbow. He was mocking her with the question, showing her no level of security could keep him out of a place if he wanted to enter. It was obvious he didn’t like being monitored, which fit with his nature. Perry didn’t want anyone having the upper hand. By breaking into her home successfully, he proved to her that she could monitor anyone, but not him. Kylie could show him, instead of tell him, a few things of her own. She didn’t need to rely on that equipment as her only means of protection. She was perfectly capable of protecting herself.
There was a moment’s satisfaction when her elbow made contact. Although she wasn’t sure she hurt him as much as the impact of her bone against rock-hard muscle jarred her. It was her only window, though, and she couldn’t dwell on which case might be the truth. Instead, she twisted her body, reaching with her one free hand, and did her best to jump away from him.
“If you break into my house,” she snarled, “don’t think you can then hold me in your arms.”
“Is that so?” He let go of her but grabbed her wrist.
No way he’d have the thrill of watching her surrender. Relaxing for just a moment, she allowed him to pull her toward him. Again, her moment of opportunity was minuscule, but then it had been even shorter when she’d worked in Washington taking down a sexual predator who weighed a good hundred pounds more than Perry.
When she was sure he thought she’d tumble into him, she yanked back, using enough force that she almost dislocated her shoulder. The move was effective, though, and pulled Perry off guard.
“That’s what you get for thinking,” she snapped, pulling him toward her and then using his grip on her as a brace when she jumped into the air and kicked him hard in the gut.
Perry stumbled backward, howling from the impact. Where her perp on her previous assignment had let her go, hugging himself against the broken rib she’d given him, Perry’s grip grew tighter and he pulled her down with him. The two of them went stumbling to the side, hitting the side of the couch and causing it to make a terrible shrieking sound when it scraped across the floor.
“You’d be surprised what I think about,” he said, sounding, surprisingly, not hurt at all as his arms wrapped around her.
He pulled her over him so she was draped over all of that steel muscle. It felt a little bit too hard, even for Perry. Relaxing her body and pushing herself off him so she could rest on her elbow against his chest, Kylie ran her hand over the width of his chest.
“What the hell are you wearing?” she asked, and then yanked on his shirt to see for herself. “Body armor,” she growled. “You aren’t playing fair.”
“Want to try it on?” he said, sounding amused. His dark eyes flashed with emotions she wasn’t sure she wanted to decipher at the moment.
She hated body armor. It weighed half a ton and itched. “No thanks,” she said dryly.
Kylie wasn’t paying attention to the drama show on TV, but when it cut to commercial and a news brief started playing she froze, her attention snapping to the screen.
“Earlier tonight, Rita Simoli, a seventeen-year-old junior at Mission High, disappeared from this parking lot,” a pretty young woman began, holding a microphone to her mouth as she stared seriously at the camera. “Investigators have confirmed she was chatting with a boy on the Internet that she didn’t know, whose name is currently not being released, and agreed to meet here after the grocery store closed.”
Perry lifted her, and himself, and resituated them on the couch, pulling Kylie onto his lap. She was so wrapped up in the reporter’s story she didn’t realize her arm rested on Perry’s shoulder, or his hand on her upper thigh, until he had them comfortable. His expression was blank and almost cruel looking as he focused on the set.
“The Simolis, owners of a restaurant here in town, are offering a large reward for the return of their daughter, alive and well. But beyond that, they’ve arranged to have meetings at their restaurant for parents of other girls who’ve disappeared in the Kansas City area over the past year. Apparently the number is quite high, and shocking to this reporter that the local law enforcement have kept this so quiet when we obviously have a serial rapist and murderer on our hands. Last October, Maura Reynolds, a sixteen-year-old who lived right here in Mission Hills, was found dead, raped, and beaten. The situation surrounding her murder is so similar to Rita Simoli’s, it’s eerie. Both girls chatted with a boy on the Internet, agreed to meet him, and then disappeared.” The reporter looked at the camera, disgusted. “I don’t know about you, Mark, but if I had a teenage daughter, I wouldn’t let her chat with anyone on the Internet right now.”
The scene switched to Mark, an older reporter sitting in the newsroom. “At least don’t let them chat with anyone they haven’t already met.” He stared at the camera with a serious, remorseful expression. “Take time to learn the screen names of your children’s friends, and make sure you know everyone they are talking to,” he suggested.
Perry blew out a heavy sigh and then followed it up with several expletives. “Just what I fucking need,” he said, his voice rumbling in his chest.
Kylie wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep from adding a few words to show her reaction to the idiot reporter who’d just made her job ten times harder than it had been. She would need one hell of a good song and dance now to meet Peter on Thursday. He’d assume she’d be under lockdown after that newscast, which every teenage girl should be until Kylie got the bastard behind bars. But now he’d hide in the shadows even more, and be twice as careful about meeting anyone. Prove too easy or eager and he’d get suspicious, especially knowing the cops were on his ass with recorded chats.
“And obviously I need a better security system.” She hated changing the subject. More than anything, sympathizing and having a good rant over media interference hindering investigations sounded a hell of a lot like better conversation than creating a beef with Perry for displaying his abilities to break into her home.
She pushed away from him, but Perry tightened his grip, pulling her to him and then leaning over her. She was forced back on the couch, her legs intertwined with his and his dark, brooding expression inches from hers.
“I’m answering for every move I make these days. I have a perfect track record, and don’t deserve the treatment I’m getting,” he whispered, his mouth so damn close to hers and his eyes a blur of animosity and lust. “Tonight I arrive at a crime scene only to find out the FBI stepped in and scoured the place before I could get there.”
“I’m sorry,” she offered, meaning it in more ways than she could let him know.
“Breaking into your home wasn’t premeditated. But when I got here, and already knowing those cameras were installed outside your home, I decided to see how well you have yourself protected. Why monitor the front of your house and not the back side?”
“I live alone. Duh,” she said, narrowing her gaze on him. There wasn’t any point despising not being able to tell him the truth. This was her life, her job, all that she lived and breathed for. That wasn’t going to change-ever. “When I can afford it, I’ll install more equipment in the backyard. But for now, it’s a safety precaution.” She couldn’t tell him the cameras were there to record whoever she had over, and not for protection.
“Then get a dog.”
“Sometimes using something that only requires double A’s proves a lot less complicated,” she said, and watched his expression darken until it looked as though a thunderhead was ready to explode.
“And maybe something living and breathing would require you admitting that sometimes you need someone else to take care of you.” His tone was bitter, challenging.
She bristled under the implications.
