Armed and Dangerous (2 page)

Rainey leaned back in his chair, fiddling with a pen—chewed on the cap from his battle to quit smoking. “You weren't in trouble then, and you aren't now. Don't you know me well enough to realize I wouldn't ask all these questions without a damned good reason?”

Shane made a visible effort to relax. “Yeah. Sorry, I just . . . you and everyone else have been great, but it's not easy to talk about almost dying. I want to forget what went down and move on, that's all.”

“I hope you mean that, because you're not going to like what I've got to say. Frankly, this sucks and I'm not going to sugarcoat it.” The captain exhaled a weary breath. “As you know, we've had a rise in the number of missing persons reported in the past few months—rebellious teenagers, elderly walk-aways, the occasional spouse who's fed up and hit the road. Most return home, safe and sound.”

“Right,” Shane agreed. “So, I assume you've got a concern with the open cases.”

“Beyond the normal profile, yes. Chris has been poring over these reports night and day, and he's picked up on a lead.” Rainey gestured to the pile of papers on his desk. “We've got four missing persons from the area who are, by all accounts, successful, reliable people. Upper middle to high socioeconomic status. Well-liked, no enemies that anyone can think of.”

Shane glanced from the captain to Daisy. “That's real interesting, but missing persons cases belong to Chris . . . unless he's too swamped to get to them all. Hell, if my cousin needed a warm body, all he had to do was ask me.”

Hoo-boy. The man was in for a surprise. Daisy studied Shane's profile as Rainey went on.

“Of the four, two are women, two men. The two men are Dan Peterson and Jason Richards. They aren't related to each other. The two women are sisters, Valerie and Vanessa Hall, the first a year older than the other. The women were together when they vanished.”

Shane's brows drew together. “Odd.”

“It gets weirder. All four are gold members at Ashwood Swim and Racquet Club, but that's not all they have common. The possible victims are young and attractive, early to mid twenties, outgoing. Wild, though not the types to just disappear, according to friends and family.”

“What about their bank accounts?” Shane asked, curious.

“Wiped out. Every last cent.”

“That might suggest they left willingly, either separately or together.”

Rainey nodded. “Or it could be something much worse, like maybe they were forced or coerced into withdrawing the money. Except for the sisters, who disappeared three weeks ago, they didn't go at once. The two men vanished afterward, about a week apart.”

“Were they friends at the club? Or had they ever met?”

“I don't know, but that's what we're going to find out. That place does seem to be their only connection.” The captain leaned forward, expression somber. “It's possible they were acquaintances, given the rumors of what's been going on among the members.”

And here it comes,
Daisy thought anxiously.
He's never going to go for this.

“Which is?”

Rainey cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I have a friend who works at the club. He claims there's some pretty hinky stuff happening behind closed doors.”

“Sexual stuff?” At Rainey's nod, Shane laughed softly. “Hell, it's a highbrow country club. I'd be shocked if there wasn't some hanky panky in the sauna.”

“I'm afraid what I heard goes a bit beyond that. My friend claims there's a group that meets in a private part of the club, invite only. They have sex, supposedly lead each other around by leashes and shit.”

“Do
what
?”

Daisy interjected. “Um, it's called D/s, for domination and submission.”

“O-kay.” Shane glanced suspiciously between her and Rainey. “And this has to do with me and Daisy how?”

“The thing is, we've got to find out how those four people connect, and whether they were part of this group like my friend suspects. And if so, what happened to them and if this group had any part in their disappearance.”

“Wait a second,” Shane said. “Stop right there. I see where you're going with this and the answer is
hell
no. I'm in homicide, and we don't have a body yet. I don't do undercover, so ask someone else.”

“I thought you might say that, but I need you on this. I did ask someone else. Kayne had already agreed to go undercover with Daisy, but then he got hurt.”

Shane paused. “You asked him first?” Despite his negative reaction to the unwanted role, he seemed hurt by this.

“I did, but that's beside the point. He can't do it now, and Chris is of more use to us right where he is, digging for information. That knucklehead wouldn't survive two seconds undercover, anyway. Then there's Tonio Salvatore, but he's too new.” The captain blew out an exasperated breath.

“What about Daisy? She's a juvenile officer,” Shane protested. “She works with at-risk kids. She's got no more experience undercover than I do.”

“I want people on this I already know I can trust. And let's face it, this job requires a pair of good-looking people who can get themselves invited into that group. As sexist as it sounds, you two fit the bill. If you won't take the assignment, I'll have to ask the chief at the Nashville PD if there's someone we can borrow to go in with Daisy.”

Shane's jaw clenched as something strange flashed in his eyes. “What would we have to do?”

“You saying yes?”

“Maybe.”

“You'd have to act like you and Daisy are a couple. Let it be quietly known that you're into the kinky stuff. You might have to put on a display for show, act cozy, but hopefully not much more than that.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Cap, you honestly think if we're convincing enough to get invited into this group that we won't have to have sex? Not sure how that'll work without raising their suspicions.”

Rainey, normally unflappable, flushed. “Just get something we can use to find out what happened to those people and where they are now. I'm not going to ask how far you have to go to be successful. Those four could be dead, and more could vanish. That's our first concern.”

Daisy felt her face grow hot as well. It wasn't every day a girl heard she had permission to fool around with the object of her desire, and for a case. She tried not to sound as flustered as she felt. “Whoever works with me, I'm sure we'll manage.”

Shane shot her a fierce look. “That'll be me. I don't trust some cop I've never met to waltz in here and show us how to do our damned jobs.”

“Thought you'd see it my way.” Smirking, Rainey slid the file across the desk. “That's why I took the liberty of having my friend acquire you both gold memberships to the Ashwood Swim and Racquet Club. You'll go by the names Shane and Daisy Lansing. You've been married for three months and you love to play more interesting games than just tennis. Especially when the missus leads the mister around by his leash.”

It took Shane five full seconds to process that bit of information.

“What? No way!” he said in outrage. He jerked a thumb at Daisy. “She's going to be the poodle, not me!”

“Wrong.” Daisy gave him a sweet smile. “The supposed leader of the D/s group has a penchant for strong, dominating women. You're going to be my bitch, snookems.”

“I absolutely will
not
.”

“I can work with someone else. It's your choice.”

He stared at her, appalled. “That's blackmail.”

He didn't want her working with anyone else on this case, and her heart thrilled to the realization. “Not when it's your decision. You can walk away with your conscience intact.”

“Not when I know something could happen to you.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Fine. When do we start?”

Rainey looked pleased. “This weekend. You're all set, and my friend won't say a word. His name is Pierce Burton and he works in management. When and if you meet up with him, don't act like you know who he is. He'll do the same. And you won't wear a wire. Too risky.”

“Sounds like we get to spend the next couple of nights learning our parts,” Shane said in resignation. “This ought to be fun.”

“I know it will be for me.” Daisy grinned. “Do you prefer a spiked collar or a jeweled one?”

For a second she thought he'd get pissed, but then he chuckled. “Spiked. If I'm going to lick your feet I need to look as butch as possible.”

Austin snorted. “On that note, take the file and get lost.”

Dismissed, they stood and Shane followed Daisy out the door, closing it. They hovered in the hallway and Shane eyed her, a strange expression on his face.

“You were really going to take the assignment with Taylor?”

“Yes.”

“He never said a word,” Shane mused. He still sounded a little hurt. “We've been partners forever. You'd think he'd tell me.”

“It's only been a few days, so maybe he didn't have the chance before he broke his wrist.”

“I suppose.” He paused. “I don't see him in that role anyhow. I'm a better fit.”

The claim, with a hint of an edge to his voice, intrigued her. “How so?”

“I just am.” That closed the matter. “So, when are we going to talk about the case?”

“Tonight?”

“Okay. Why don't you come over to my place around seven. I'll have something ready for us to eat and then we can ogle kinky stuff on the Internet.” He waggled his brows, and she couldn't help but laugh.

“Only in America could we get paid to do that. God bless the USA.”

“True. So?”

“Sounds good, but you don't have to cook.”

“I don't mind at all. I'll whip up something easy. Then you can whip
me
.”

She smacked his arm. “Stop it!”

“See you at seven.”

As he sauntered off, that sexy roll to his hips drawing several eyes in the room, she couldn't help but keep smiling. At least until they solved this case, he was all hers.

She couldn't wait to get started.

2

Shane was well aware of Daisy's gaze on his rear end as he walked away.

In fact, he knew she looked his way a lot. Had for a long time. Hell, he wasn't so clueless that he didn't recognize the signs of a woman who'd say “yes” if he asked the right question. God knows he'd noticed her too, plenty. Why he'd never acknowledged their mutual attraction and taken advantage of the opportunity to set his sheets on fire with the knockout blonde had baffled him for ages.

Until he matured enough to realize where his hesitation came from—that
taking advantage
would be exactly the right term. Shane was a hound dog, running wherever the newest scent led him. When it came to women, he was all about sweaty skin and breathy sighs, tangled sheets, and blissful release. His longest relationship lasted until sunrise and didn't stay for breakfast.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Daisy was made for sex. She was almost as tall as Shane, legs up to there, generous breasts, blue eyes, and drop-dead gorgeous. From getting to know her over the years, listening to her conversations, watching her interact with others, she was also a
good
girl. Unlike a few other female employees in the department he could name, she didn't sleep around with her fellow cops.

Daisy would do just fine with the breathy sighs and tangled sheets. Then she would be all about
I love you
, forever, picket fences, kids, and dogs. The man who fell under her spell would find himself hogtied and shoved into a wedding tux in no time flat.

No, thanks!

The idea almost had him breaking into a sweat, and not the good kind. That being the reason—and a damned good one, in his opinion—to stay far, far away from Daisy. He'd succeeded pretty well until today—when he'd learned that keeping his hands
off
of her would draw undue attention to them and possibly blow their cover.
Shit.

But then he thought of Taylor, who'd nearly had the assignment for himself. The idea of his friend touching Daisy in any way made him sort of sick to his stomach. Currently, his partner was sitting in his small office, studying a case, using his good hand to flip loose pages on his desk. The right one was in a cast from his fingers to his elbow and rested in a sling. Shane had planned to rake his partner over the coals for not telling him about the assignment with Daisy, but now he just felt like crap.

If he'd shot the suspect when the man had turned toward him for that brief moment, gun in hand, Taylor wouldn't have been hurt.

“Are you gonna come in?” Taylor asked. “You're giving me a complex just staring at me.”

Shane shook himself. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“Uh-oh. Now we're in trouble.” When Shane didn't laugh, he paused in scanning his papers. “What's up?”

“I just came from talking with Austin and Daisy.”

“About the four missing people and the undercover gig?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah. Why didn't you tell me about it?” He tried to keep the accusation out of his tone, but there was an edge all the same.

“I was going to. Austin talked to me a few days ago, then this happened,” he said, holding up his cast. “Didn't matter at that point because I couldn't do it anymore and I knew the captain would ask you.”

“Makes sense.”

Taylor cocked his head, studying his friend. “You're bugged about this. Why? Because he offered it to me first?”

God, that made him sound petty. “Some. It's stupid and I don't really know why it bothered me.”

“I don't know what's eating you about it, but I can shed some light on the reason, since he apparently didn't explain.”

“He didn't.”

“It's simple. You're the most recognizable of all of us, partner. After your shooting and then helping capture Jesse Rose last year, your mug was in every paper and on all the news channels, remember? He didn't want to take the chance of somebody at the club recalling where they've seen you before.”

“I'm such an idiot,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb. “I didn't even think of that.”

“And did it occur to you that he also asked me because I'm a good detective and I might do a good job?”

“Of course,” he muttered. “That's not it at all.”

“How much of what's bugging you has to do with Daisy?”

“You're too perceptive for your own good.” He sighed. “I don't think working with her is such a good idea.”

“Why not? Daisy's a good cop.”

His friend looked so perplexed that Shane had to bite back a laugh. “I'll let you think about that for a minute.”

Understanding dawned on his partner's face. “Oh. Well, I'm sure you can restrain yourself for however long it takes. It's not like you don't have a posse of ladies to keep you busy.”

He shrugged, not liking how slutty that made him sound—even if it was true. “There aren't
that
many.”

“Sure,” Taylor said dubiously. “Was there something else you needed?”

“No. I'll let you get back to it.”

“Yeah, can't wait. 'Cause reading over autopsy reports is so much fun.”

“Autopsy? On who?”

“None of our missing four from the club. This came in from the medical examiner on that girl who was found on Monday, out by the dam.”

“The floater?”

“Yep. Nikki Thompson. Interesting case. Ligature marks on her wrists and nowhere else. No water in the lungs, so she didn't drown. No recreational drugs or alcohol in her system, either.”

“Murdered and dumped, then.”

“Looks like it. The ME found the faintest trace of Rohypnol, but the strange thing is there was no evidence of sexual assault.”

“The body being in the water might have compromised the results.”

“Maybe. Oh, she was naked when she was found, except for a rosary around her neck. The girl's mother said she's never seen it before and they weren't particularly religious.”

“Shit. That could be the killer's signature.”

“And where we've got a signature, we've got a bigger problem.”

“Serial killer.” God, that's all the city needed.

“Could be. I guess I'll do some investigating on this while you're busy playing slap and tickle with our Daisy Duke.”

“She ever hear you call her that?”

“Not a chance.”

“Might want to keep it that way.”

Taylor's chuckle drifted behind him as he turned and left. Why did he get stuck diddling at the country club trying to find missing rich people, and his partner got handed something every homicide detective dreamed of? Not that he wanted innocent folks to get killed. Hell, no. But there were monsters all over, and Shane's job was to catch them. He simply wanted to do what he did best, what he'd been trained for.

A guy couldn't win 'em all. He'd have to find the missing twenty-somethings and put the mystery to rest as fast as possible. Then he could assist Taylor on this new case.

In the meantime, he had dinner to plan for a certain hot cop.

•   •   •

Daisy turned down the long driveway and admired the scenery. Shane's house sat on a few treed acres on the river. The place was rustic, with a wide wrap-around porch and a view that must've cost a mint.

Then again, she'd heard that Shane and his twin sister had inherited the prime riverfront property from their parents. Shane had built his home a few years ago, whereas Shea and her new husband, Tommy, had built theirs recently on the lot next to Shane's. Daisy tried to imagine living on such a fabulous place and found it was easy to picture. Not that she'd ever get the chance.

The idea depressed her some. Shaking off the blues, she parked in front, got out of her car, and walked to the front porch. Ascending the steps slowly, she gathered her nerves and finally rang the bell. She only had to wait a few moments, and the door swung open.

The detective was standing there dressed down in nice, dark blue track pants and a matching T-shirt that molded nicely to his chest. His hair was shiny and clean, perfect to run her fingers through. He smiled and stepped aside.

“Come in. I've got dinner cooking, and it won't be long before it's ready.”

“It smells great,” she said with enthusiasm. “What's on the menu?”

“Grilled chicken with angel hair pasta and my homemade marinara. I didn't know what you'd like, and it seemed a safe bet.”

“Yum. Sounds heavenly and I'm starved.”

“Let me take your jacket and purse.”

“Oh, thanks.” Unfailingly polite, he helped her off with the jacket, then took it and her bag, placing them on the rich leather sofa. He was a gentleman, had money, was smart,
and
he could cook. Could the man be more perfect?

Except for having about a dozen girlfriends. That kind of sucked.

Still, a low tingle buzzed her nerves from being in his house.
Alone with him at last.
And it had merely taken a bit more than a decade and some unforeseen circumstances for it to happen.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked.

“Well, we're sort of working . . .”

“Sort of, but we're not on the clock. A glass or two won't hurt, I think.”

“Okay, you talked me into it.” She smiled, thinking he could probably talk her into a lot of things that weren't good for her. Especially while viewing porn on the Internet.

“Great!”

She followed him into the kitchen where he fetched two glasses and a bottle of Cabernet. He made quick work of the cork with an electric opener and poured the wine.

“You're supposed to let it breathe, but I never wait that long,” he said, taking a sip.

“Me, either.” She sipped hers too, and found it was a really good wine.

He studied her as he spoke. “Speaking of work, did you hear about the case Taylor caught?”

“I don't think so. Why?”

“The naked floater they found in the river on Monday? She was murdered.”

“Really? What was the cause of death?”

“They're not sure yet. No water in the lungs ruled out drowning. The ME says there were traces of Rohypnol in her system, but the only marks on her body were made by ligatures on her wrists.”

“Date rape gone bad?” Immediately she cursed her stupid tongue. Shane's sister had been date raped in high school, and it took years for her to recover emotionally. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't be,” he said softly. “It's a valid question. Anyway, the item of note is the rosary found around her neck. The mother claims it wasn't hers or her daughter's.”

“A signature?” she breathed. “Shit.”

“Exactly. I hope there's not a second body, but something tells me there will be. This wasn't random, a crime of passion or simply of opportunity. My gut says it's much more.”

“Your gut is usually right. That's why you're the best at what you do.”

He grinned, shaking his head at the praise. “Thanks, but it's easy to be good when everyone around you is awesome, too.”

She watched, her stomach growling as he dumped the pasta into a colander, drained the water, and poured the noodles into a bowl. The table was already set for two with the other dishes waiting, so they sat down together and he served their plates.

As they sat, he held up his glass. “A toast. To working together and solving this case with flying colors.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses and drank. Then came the chicken and pasta, which was excellent. “You're a fantastic cook.”

“Thanks. I don't get a chance to do much of it and when I do, it's usually for the guys. So I'm used to making chili, grilling burgers, that sort of comfort food.” He shrugged. “You gave me an excuse to do some real cooking.”

“So that's what I am? An excuse?” she teased.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Right.”

“Just kidding. So, tell me about your week. How's Taylor doing with the wrist?”

Shane launched into a rant about his partner that was colored with such affection he might've been talking about a brother. The mood between Shane and her was light and easy. She was pleasantly surprised by how well they got along when this was their first time alone. He was excellent company. The woman who finally convinced him to settle down would be one lucky bitch.

“Enough about my kooky partner.” After taking another bite of pasta, he regarded her thoughtfully. “Aren't you an only child?”

“I am. I'm surprised you remember that much about me from school.”

“I wish I'd taken the time to get to know you back then,” he said sincerely. Before she could respond to that, he went on. “What happened to you after high school? You weren't around for a while, then suddenly I spotted you one day as a rookie on the force.”

Swallowing a pang of old hurt, she picked at her chicken. “My dad moved to Maine a couple of months after graduation and I went with him. I hated it there, especially the fishy smell and the cold weather, but I was stuck for a while. I mean, what else was an eighteen-year-old supposed to do? I couldn't move out until I had a career and saved some money.”

“You say that as though you were itching to be gone.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Even before my mom died, my dad and I didn't get along. He's not abusive, or a drunk, or any of those clichés. He's just a disagreeable, cranky bastard that nobody can please no matter how hard they try.”

“Hard to live like that, constantly on edge,” he sympathized.

“And how. I'll say this for the old goat—he gave me the extra incentive to work like a dog and achieve my goals so I could become independent.” She paused, remembering. “I graduated from the police academy, and I thought he wouldn't show. But there he sat, in the third row. After the ceremony he found me, gave me a hug. Said he was proud of me. Dammit.” She dashed a tear from the corner of her eye.