Stolen Seduction (11 page)

“Stop being such a nancy and quit worrying about me, would ya? If you want to stress about something, start with how the hell you’re gonna afford three kids on your crappy salary.”

At the reminder of his wife Robin’s newest pregnancy, Tony sat back and grinned. “You should be

so lucky to have my problem.”

Shane snorted and started typing again. “Kids and I don’t mix.”

“Never know. Might cure that surly attitude of yours.”

Shane flipped Tony the bird, then went back to typing.

Tony chuckled and took a sip from his Starbucks again. “Now that’s the wife I know and love.”

“Maxwell, Chen, quit your gossiping. My office. Now.”

Shane looked over his shoulder toward Commander O’Conner’s door and frowned. Tony slid off

the desk and downed the rest of his coffee, then tossed the paper cup in the wastebasket in his crappy Jordan impersonation. “Five says the temple starts to throb before we even sit down.”

Shane rose from his desk, feeling like a lamb being led to slaughter as they both headed toward the

commander’s office. He felt like that a lot lately. “You’re on. I need to win back the money you

took from me yesterday.”

“Hey, that train could’ve had three engines. It wasn’t a lousy bet.”

Shane snorted as they crossed the floor. The things they bet on to beat back the doldrums.

“Close the door behind you,” O’Conner barked as the two stepped in the room.

No Good morning. Hey, how ya doin’? This couldn’t be good.

Tony did the honors while Shane shoved his hands in his pockets and snapped open the lid of his

Tic Tac box. O’Conner didn’t gesture for them to sit, simply lifted a remote from his desk and

pointed it at the TV on a shelf across the room. The vein on the left side of his temple pulsed visibly

in time with the older man’s heartbeat.

Tony jabbed Shane in the ribs and pointed. Frowning, Shane whipped a five-dollar bill from his

wallet and handed it to his partner before the commander could turn around.

“Take a look, boys.” On the TV screen, a local news reporter was standing with a crew in front of

the Roarke murder scene.

“Shit,” Tony muttered.

“…local police are still searching for clues to this gruesome murder in one of Chicago’s premier

neighborhoods. But those close to the Chicago Police Department confirm heiress Hailey Roarke,

daughter of late hotelier Garrett Roarke and interim CEO of the elite Roarke Resorts, is being questioned by authorities in conjunction with her estranged cousin’s death…”

“Fuck,” Shane mumbled.

“…All of this comes on the heels of Garrett Roarke’s recent death. And sources within Roarke Resorts tell us the company is in an uproar as family members wrestle for control. What started out as

a Chicago homicide looks to be quickly turning into murder, rich-and-famous style. This is Shelley

Hanson reporting onscene for channel…”

O’Conner stopped the tape and turned toward his two detectives. That little vein at his temple vibrated against his pasty Irish white skin. “How the hell does Shelley Hanson know what the fuck’s

going on?”

When neither man answered, O’Conner’s fiery eyes swung to Shane.

Shane lifted his hands, palms out. “Don’t look at me. I dated her like twice. A year ago. She’s not

getting her shit from me.”

“Well someone’s leaking info to the press and I want it stopped. Crap like this makes us look like

incompetent fools.” His eyes shot to Chen. “You got enough to go before the judge?”

Tony shrugged. “Not yet. Nothing conclusive on that dagger.”

“Dagger?” Shane asked, looking sharply at his partner.

Tony glanced at him. “Yeah. I was about to tell you before we came in here. Ruiz and Ogada found

a dagger hidden in the basement. Had the initials LdM on one side of the handle, GR on the other.

Forensics ran it but didn’t come up with anything.” He looked back at O’Conner. “Also got a call in

to Garrett Roarke’s lawyer in Florida. Thing looks like a collector’s item. Piece like that had to be in

a guy’s will, don’t you think? Looked ancient.”

Shane’s blood ran cold.

“Only if we’re lucky.” O’Conner dropped into the chair behind his desk and rubbed a hand down

his face. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’ve got press calling from all over the country on this one. Enterfucking-tainment Tonight wants an exclusive, like they have a snowball’s chance in hell at getting

it. The Roarke sister, the one like Paris Hilton. What’s her name? Nipples?”

Tony chortled. “Nicole.”

“Yeah. Nicole. Media freakin’ loves her. Speculation her sister might be up for murder’s boosted all

their ratings, which means my life’s hell.” He pinned Shane and Tony with a look. “I want that

crime scene swept again. If that’s the murder weapon, we have to make fucking sure before we go

public. Chen, you get that link between the dagger and the Roarke woman confirmed, then you get

in font of Judge Hamilton and get that warrant. I want this case wrapped up. Unsolved homicides

where millionaires get hacked like sushi are not my idea of fun. Now get gone. Both of you.”

The door snapped shut behind Shane, but he hardly heard it. He was in a daze as he walked toward

his desk. LdM meant nothing to him. But GR was just too coincidental to be real. What were the

chances Hailey’s father had given her that dagger? Or left it to her in his will?

Considering everything else, pretty fucking good.

“Hey, Maxwell,” Tony said, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. “Got an art history prof

over at North-western who said he could give us some background on that dagger.” He lifted a print

photo of the weapon. “Let’s run down and check it out.”

Motive, means and a murder weapon. All at the same time. It was too neat. Too convenient. The

whole damn thing screamed stupid criminal.

If there was one thing Shane knew absolutely above all else, it was that Hailey Roarke was not

stupid. She’d been a cop, after all. She knew how the system worked. And he couldn’t get the fact

he’d seen her leading with her left hand last night out of his head. Which meant only one thing.

None of this was as it appeared to be.

“Yoo-hoo,” Tony said, waving his hand in front of Shane’s face. “Over here.”

Shane glanced up sharply. “What?”

“Murder weapon. Research. You and me. Let’s go, wife.”

Sweat broke out on the back of Shane’s neck. “Yeah. You go ahead without me. I gotta finish these

reports.”

Tony’s brow dropped as Shane sat and reached for his keyboard. “Since when do you pass up being

in the field for sitting behind a desk?”

Irritation edged Shane’s voice. “Since I came in early to get this shit done. Now leave me alone so I

can do it. They don’t need two of us prowling around at the university. You can call me when

you’ve got something.”

Tony eyed him a long beat. Slid his coat on slowly. And though Shane didn’t glance up, he knew his

partner was looking at him like he’d sprouted horns and maybe wings to go with them. A meteor

hitting the building right now would be less of a surprise than the fact Shane wasn’t tagging along

on this one.

Tension rippled between them as Shane’s fingers raced over the keyboard and he typed words he

didn’t see. Screw it. He didn’t care what Tony thought.

“Okay,” Tony finally said in a wary voice. “Keep your phone on.”

“I will.”

Tony eyed him one more time like he knew Shane was lying through his pearly whites, but headed

for the elevator anyway.

As soon as the double doors closed, Shane’s pulse jumped. He killed the computer, grabbed his coat

and hit the back stairwell.

Screw the no-more-questions. She was gonna tell him what the hell was going on even if it meant

he had to string her up by her toes to get her to talk.

And dammit. That thought wasn’t a turn-on. Not in the least.

Billy Sullivan lifted his R?vos to his forehead to get a clear view of the brunette in the slinky white

string bikini across the pool at the South Beach Ritz. She was just coming up the steps, water running from her long dark hair, sluicing over her deeply tanned skin, sliding over her perfect little ass.

Now that girl was hot. Tiny little waist, nice rack, perfectly proportioned hips. And a mouth, ah hell,

a mouth a guy would die to have wrapped around his—

“Something from the bar?”

Billy dropped his sunglasses back onto his nose and looked up at the redheaded waitress standing

next to his poolside table, waiting to take his drink order. “Jack and Coke.” He gestured with his

shoulder across the pool where bikini-girl was stopped near a chaise, shaking her head to the side

and blotting her face with a hot pink towel. “See the girl over there in the white suit?”

The waitress glanced up. The look on her face said, I see her and know who she is, and you don’t

stand a chance in hell. “Yes.”

“Her next drink’s on me.”

The waitress glanced back at him, frowned, then headed for the bar with a shake of her head.

Billy leaned back in his chair, crossed his bare feet at the ankles and folded his hands over his waist

as he sat in the shade of a big umbrella. The art-deco metal chair put a crink in his back, but he

didn’t plan on sitting here much longer anyway.

He watched as the waitress set his drink in front of him, then headed off around the pool with the

froufrou pink concoction bikini-girl had been sucking back all morning. As the waitress delivered

the drink, bikini-girl looked up with a startled expression, and when the waitress gestured across the

pool, she shifted her sunglasses up to her hair and finally glanced his way.

He smiled, lifted his hand and waved, but didn’t make any effort to sit up or join her across the

pool.

Bikini-girl and the waitress shared a few words before the waitress headed back for the bar. Bikinigirl took a long swallow of her drink, eyes still locked on Billy.

If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that curiosity would finally get the better of her. After

that it was all up to him.

Sure enough, ten minutes of watching him was all she could take. Martini glass in hand, she

grabbed her white wrap, slid her perfectly manicured toes into her spendy, jewel-encrusted sandals

and marched across the pool deck toward him.

Billy smiled as she drew close but still didn’t bother to sit up.

“I haven’t seen you around here,” she said, stopping in front of him. She didn’t put the wrap on to

cover up her barely there bikini, not that he minded. She simply draped the sheer white fabric over

her shoulder in a move he was sure she’d practiced a thousand times.

“I’m just visiting.”

She took another sip of her drink, eyeing him over the rim. “Hmm. We haven’t met. I’m—”

“We haven’t officially met, but we’re family. Or were.”

Her dark eyes narrowed in obvious confusion. “I don’t—”

“Name’s Billy Sullivan.”

He could practically see the wheels turning in that gorgeous but empty head of hers and fought from

getting up and searching for a set of jumper cables to get the spark going and speed things along.

“Why is that name so familiar?”

Okay, hot bod, but definitely not a Rhodes scholar.

“My brother’s Rafe Sullivan. As in, the guy who married your sister.”

Nicole Roarke’s eyes narrowed. “Oh.”

Bingo. Lightbulb just went on.

“And that makes you his…”

“Brother,” he finished for her when she seemed at a loss for a connection. His impression of the

Paris Hilton wannabe was seriously taking a hit.

Disgust brewed in her dark eyes. Obviously, she’d heard all about Hailey’s thief of an ex-husband.

That or just the mere mention of her older sister sent her mood spiraling. Interesting.

“What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Just hanging out. Taking a mini vaca. Saw you over there and thought I’d do the

family thing and buy you a drink. Hailey’s supposed to meet me here in an hour. Hey, you don’t

want to join us for lunch, do you?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Hailey’s coming here?”

“Shh.” He sat up and grabbed her arm, forcing her into the chair next to him. For emphasis, he

glanced around the poolside tables as if making sure no one had overheard their conversation.

“Keep it on the down-low, would ya? She’s been in some hot water lately. Our weekly meetings are

private, and we want to keep them that way.”

Interest flared in Nicole’s eyes. She leaned forward on the table. “You meet her every week? Why?”

Billy sat back and grinned. “Why wouldn’t I? Your sister’s hot.”

Nicole nearly choked on her drink. And he kept on grinning as he watched the green-eyed monster

rear its ugly head. “Oh, my God. She’s married to your brother.”

“Was,” he corrected. “They’re not married anymore. And I think you have the wrong idea. It’s not

serious. Just…fun. Don’t you do fun, Niki?”

“Of course I do,” she said, looking disgusted by the question. “I’m twenty-one. Fun is my life.”

She was actually closer to twenty-seven—little liar—but if she wanted to snow him, two could play

at that game.

His grin widened. “I betcha we could have some real fun. The three of us. Wanna come up to our

room?”

She pinned him with a look. “I’m not interested in a three-way with my sister.”

“What are you interested in?”

Her eyes ran over him from the tips of his toes, up his swim trunks, across his bare chest and finally

to his face. What she hadn’t been interested in five minutes ago suddenly looked like prime grade-A

beef in her eyes. God, he loved competitive sisters. “I don’t know. What time did you say she’s supposed to meet you?”