Covert Craving (3 page)

“You sound like my partner. Last pack, then I’ll
quit.”

“No,” she replied.

“No?”

“No. If you’re quitting, you’re quitting. None of
this namby-pamby stuff. Cold turkey, gorgeous.”

“Really. Well, if you’re not going to let me have
my smokes, you’re buying me dinner.” He still had one cigarette in the pack in
his jacket pocket.

“Excuse me?” she sputtered.

“You heard me.” He took his wallet out and handed
Frank two twenty dollar bills. Her eyes widened and she intercepted the change
before he could take it from Frank. The store owner chuckled under his breath
and made himself busy putting the purchases in a small grocery cart. “And I’m
not satisfied with the answers you gave me earlier.”

“I’ll buy you dinner. With your change.” She
crumpled the money in her fist and shoved it into her purse.

“You have like eight dollars there.” Frank pushed
the cart out from behind the counter and he took it, giving the other man a
brisk nod. “It’s not possible in this city to eat on eight dollars.”

“Watch me.” The tight, round globes of her ass as
she sauntered out the door ahead of him tempted the wrong head, and he
swallowed hard against the carnal nature of his thoughts. Cute butt or no, he
had to keep the blood in his body oxygenating the brain he used to think, not
the one that led him into one idiotic place after another. The woman might be
crazy, and he knew she’d been in the apartment today with the trussed-up
burglar. He figured if he went back to earlier scenes, he’d pick up her smell
there as well.

Those facts did little to dissuade the growing affection
in his heart and genuine feeling of enjoyment he got from being around her.

They stopped at the steps leading up to her
apartment building and she grabbed hold of one gallon of milk and the bagged
items.

“You going to help me carry this stuff inside or
just stand there staring?”

“Think it’s okay to leave the grocery cart here?
It’ll grow legs and walk away the minute we clear the door.” He looked her over
from head to toe again; the sight of her shiny pink toes filled him with
amusement and wonder. Her pants seemed to be black and her top was an
indistinguishable grey, but her nail polish stood out. Maybe because it was
attached to her nails chemically. He didn’t know the reason but being able to
see it filled him with quiet happiness. When he was a kid his mom painted her
nails pink like that.

She cleared her throat, and he took in the
annoyance on her face. It was hard not to stare at her. The first woman he’d
seen in color in years. The sunlight brought out the freckles on her cheekbones
and the natural coral color of her lips. No makeup on at all.

Man, she might be nuts, but she was stunning.

“The cart will be fine. No one bothers our stuff.
C’mon. Help a girl out and do some heavy lifting.” Her flip-flops thwacked the
concrete stairs.

He picked up the three remaining jugs of milk and
ascended the steps after her. She stood to one side to open the door for him
and he brushed her chest. The touch stoked the embers of desire and he gave
himself a mental shake.

“Thanks. Where we going?”

“Upstairs. Although I’m not sure it’s safe for you
to know where I live.”

She crossed the lobby to the elevators. The aging,
shabby building wasn’t a bad place overall. The walls and ceiling needed paint,
the carpet could use a scrubbing, but it looked structurally solid and didn’t
smell terrible.

“I’m a cop. One of the good guys.”

The elevator arrived with a ding and they stepped
inside.

“Right. And I’m your friendly neighborhood freak
who is supposed to do her best to remain incognito. I should have taken off
already.”

He turned to study her profile while she worried
her lip and fidgeted. “You’re serious. You really believe that you can become
invisible?”

“I don’t just believe it. I know it. You’re the
first person who’s ever been able to see me when I was working my mojo.”

There didn’t seem to be an acceptable response to
the statement so he faced front again. “And why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Can I ask you a
personal question?”

“Fire away.”

“What’s with the mismatched outfit? You coming off
an all-nighter or something?” The elevator dinged at the third floor, and the
doors slid apart. “Not that I care. I’m no fashionista myself.”

“I couldn’t tell what color my socks were in the
dark.” True enough.

“Oh.” She led the way down the hall. “This door on
the right here.”

The reek of pungent herbs and an earthy, dusty
substance wafted from the wreath. He snorted hard to try and dispel the stench.

A quick knock and the door opened to reveal a
little girl, five or six years old, with braided pig tails and the dark smudge
of eye shadow halfway up her forehead. Her cheeks were coated in something
greasy, and her lips—and a good chunk of her chin—were covered in what he
assumed to be matching lipstick. He smiled at her and she beamed in return.

“Hey, Mattie. I went to the store for your
grandma. You want to take this for me?” Chloe extended one arm until the bag
with the lighter fluid, zip ties, and rum dangled in front of the child.

“Okay. Grandma said if you got here while she was
going pee to have you leave the milk by the door.” The child backed up a few
steps and Chloe leaned in far enough to put the milk on the carpet at the edge
of the tile inside the door before turning to him and repeating the process.
Her feet never breached the doorway, just her upper body as she bent over.

A faded couch was visible from where he stood,
flanked at opposite ends by an old end table holding a lamp and an empty bird
cage. The noise of a television set barked in the background, spewing fake
laughter and screams.

Chloe’s hand hit him square in the chest with a thump
and he looked down in surprise. He’d moved and hadn’t realized it.

“Don’t cross the threshold. Bad things will happen
if we go in without her invitation.” The skin on her face paled beneath the
smattering of freckles on her nose and cheekbones.

He had the absurd urge to kiss her, drag her into
his arms, and hug her until the thing that frightened her went away.

“What? Some kind of crazy hoodoo going to get me?”

“Yes.” She turned back to the kid. “I’ll be back
with the rest of the stuff, okay? Might take some time.”

“Okay.” The child shut the door with a thump.

***

Chloe looked the detective over and rolled her
eyes. She paused at her apartment long enough to chuck her purse inside. He
followed her back to the elevator and she wished she’d put on a different
outfit. One with underwear and a bra. The man was so hot most of her thoughts
were consumed with taking clothes off, not keeping them on. And he kept looking
down her top at her boobs. Part of her, the perverse part, wanted to yank the
tank top up and flash him to see his reaction. She’d been naked loads of times
in front of people, but they didn’t know she was there. It made the whole
nudity thing seem mundane.

Except for where he was concerned. Every time she
felt his gaze moving over her butt or breasts, hell, even the back of her neck,
arousal curled in her belly and set goose bumps marching over her skin.

“So, what else do you have to get for your
neighbor?”

“A pigeon and a cheesecake.” She peeked at him
from beneath her eyelashes and caught him leering. “You can buy the cheesecake
as well, since I’m providing you with a peep show.”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Can’t help myself.”

“Right. Look, if you keep doing that I’m going to
have to insist on tit for tat.” They continued down the hallway, he with both
hands shoved in his pockets, Chloe with her arms swinging freely.

“And what would that imply?” His voice dropped an
octave, bringing the damned goose bumps out in force.

“Simple. I show you mine, you show me yours.
Although, you’re in the red right now, since the subway incident.” The words
thrilled her. She’d never had the opportunity to engage in this kind of banter.
She should be on the road and headed for a new town and existence. Instead she
was here, defying protocol, flirting with a hot-ass cop, and outright
challenging him to a sex game.

“I disagree. If I accept your challenge, it starts
now. We’d have to start over again, so technically I haven’t seen any naked
body parts.” He pressed the button on the wall to call the elevator.

She glared down her nose at him and crossed her
arms over her breasts. The effect didn’t work too well, since he was much
taller, but she gave it her best impervious-haughty-queen-bee try. His lips
twitched and he stepped closer. She narrowed her eyes, fighting the jumble of
excitement and nerves in her belly before taking a step of her own forward. The
front of her flip-flops bumped into his dress shoes.

“I think you’re trying to work the system here.”
The heat of his body and the connecting thread of sexual arousal had brought
her closer than she realized, and their chests collided.

“Maybe. I’m attracted to you.” He put his left
hand on the wall next to her head. “I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” She ran one finger down his tie, tracing
the pattern. The elevator bell chimed and the door slid open. A few steps to
the right and she could be inside. The intensity in his eyes held her still.

“Yeah.” He brought his right hand out as well and
stroked the exposed skin at her waist between the tank top and pants with his
thumb. “May I?”

Her heart sped up, and she grabbed the front of
his shirt for support. No one had ever asked to kiss her before. She nodded,
lips parting in anticipation. He bent over, coming closer, his blue eyes
enveloping her. He smelled like cigarettes and scotch. Not her favorite smells,
but on Greiff, she could overlook it.

Impatient to close the distance, she went up on
tip toe and kissed him, impetuous, a little too hard, and off the mark. He
chuckled under his breath, brought his left hand to her waist, and leaned away
from her.

“Sorry.” She looked at the floor next to his shoe,
feeling like a dork. “You taste like cigarettes.”

“I’ll get some gum. Come here. Let’s try this
again.” He tugged until they touched from chest to shins, but she couldn’t
bring herself to look at him. Embarrassment burned through her.

The rasp of his stubble on her neck electrified
her. He moved up to her jaw with light brushes of his mouth. With strong
fingers, he grasped the back of her head and turned her until she faced him.
This time Greiff took the lead, with a caress across her lower lip, then the
upper. The third touch encouraged her to move her hands around his neck and
clasp her fingers together. She slid her tongue over the seam of his mouth
tentatively, and he responded with a slow sweep of his own, tracing his
fingertips over her back to grab her ass with both hands.

His erection swelled between them, and she knew
that her nipples were going to show through her shirt to anyone who saw her for
the next half hour at least.

Holy crap. She didn’t even care about the
cigarettes. The guy should hold classes on how to kiss a woman. She could die
right now. Everything about it was so wrong. Making out with a cop who knew
about her little
gift
, and probably thought she was an escapee from the
funny farm.

Their tongues rubbed together, and she played with
the fuzz on the back of his neck. He needed a haircut. Greiff broke away and
bit her jaw before trailing down to lick a hot line up to her ear. His stubble
tickled the crook of her neck, and she burst into laughter, shying away from
his mouth. He chased her, repeating the motion, and she giggled again, slid her
hands beneath his suit coat, and smacked his ass, hard.

“Ow, hey now.” Greiff stood up tall and grinned at
her. “Spanking in public is a no-no.”

“How about in private?” She grabbed the back of
his belt.

“Everything is negotiable.” He pressed the button
for the elevator again and the doors slid open. She didn’t remember them
closing.

The desire to fall into a fantasy of a future with
him, even as a boyfriend for a few months, taunted her. She shoved it
ruthlessly aside. She had to leave town, didn’t she? Perhaps her next stop
should be someplace smaller. After the summer camp fiasco she was done with
nature. But a medium-sized city like Detroit would do. Their economy sucked as
bad as the rest of the country and that always meant an upswing in burglaries.
Perfect stomping grounds for a creep-busting gal with the ability to turn
transparent.

The most she could hope for at this point in her
relationship with Greiff was a quickie to remember a hot-ass cop with a five
o’clock shadow and the inability to color coordinate. Not a bad memory to take
with her.

“The elevator won’t wait forever.” He pushed a
lock of hair away from her forehead and smiled. He hadn’t had a woman stare at
him with thoughts of getting naked written in her eyes for quite some time.
“Unless you want to go back to your place.”

She backed over the threshold, tugging on his
belt, and he followed until he crowded her against the back wall.

“We have to get the cheesecake, the pigeon, and
return the shopping cart to the store. And I don’t have sex with people I’ve
only known for a few hours. I need at least a twelve-hour quarantine period.”

Greiff stroked the pulse fluttering in her neck
with his thumb, smiling as it increased. Her pupils enlarged and he bit his
lower lip. “Okay, doll. Whatever you say.”

He got closer, inhaling the sweet smell of her
shampoo and body wash. Her chest hitched on two short indrawn breaths, and her
eyes grew even larger in her delicately boned face. The skin over her cheek
bone was a velvety soft landscape under his fingertip. He traced the rim of her
ear. She turned her head, caught the digit between her teeth, and nipped at it,
the shock of the pain sparking into his hand sending a jolt of desire straight
to his groin. It pushed him past control.

Detectives on duty didn’t follow women to the
grocery store instead of investigating a case. Good detectives didn’t make out
with suspects in dingy elevators. Greiff wasn’t a good detective. And he didn’t
care.

A low growl rumbled from his throat, and he closed
on her with aggression and pent-up lust. The careful seduction he’d exhibited
in the earlier kisses fled, chased out of existence by the supple skin of her
waist, the teasing darts of her tongue, and her nipples against his chest.
Chloe groaned when he seized her tongue and sucked on it hard, grinding his
groin against her abdomen, and palming her breast.

Everything about it was wrong. Making out with a
suspect in a case who believed she had the ability to become invisible and ran
around the city in full-on flasher gear, bought booze for old ladies along with
other dubious items, and hung out in the subway naked—he’d finally gone over
the edge.

The pressure of two small hands gripping his ass
incited him further. He wrapped his hand in the back of her tank top and
twisted it, crushing her to his torso. Their teeth banged into each other from
the force of the kiss.

“Oh my God. I think I need to rethink the
twelve-hour quarantine rule.” She barely got the words out before he hitched
her up and twined her legs around his waist, careful not to dislodge his radio
from his belt. A bell dinged behind them, and she grabbed him by the ears and tugged
until he raised his head from the swell of her breast. “The door is open. We
need to get out of here.”

He sank his fingers into her ass in response and
bit her right nipple through her shirt before letting her slide down to the
floor. She shivered and he released a puff of breath against her ear and then
licked it in a last bid to change her mind. “You sure you don’t want to go back
to your place?”

“No.” She made brief eye contact. “I promised
Muriel a pigeon and a cheesecake. She’ll be really pissed if I don’t fill my
end of the bargain.”

He thunked his forehead on the cheap, faux-wood
paneled wall and closed his eyes. “All right.”

She kissed his cheek, and he inhaled the scent of
flowers and vanilla, logged and matched them once more with the alluring scent
from the crime scene this morning. These were different than her body wash and
shampoo, smells she’d always carry because they belonged to her alone.
Unchangeable and as entwined with her as her DNA. Chloe smells. He’d be able to
track her anywhere in the world based on them alone. Entwined with her base
scent was the musk of arousal, and he bit back a groan.

“If that’s what you want.”

A shudder rippled through her slight frame, and
she closed her eyes and swallowed, shaking her head. “Want has nothing to do
with it, and you know it, Jake. I’m telling you, there is nothing like a
pissed-off drag queen roommate and an unpaid octogenarian voodoo priestess. Or
whatever she is. I once spilled grape juice on one of Daisy Mae’s t-shirts. Not
only did I wake up every morning for a week with a new style of overdone stage
make-up, but I didn’t get Muriel’s rum in time because of a jerk-o—err, a job I
had to do, so I kept finding dead mice in my sneakers.”

“Make-up washes off.” He sucked her ear lobe into
his mouth and nibbled on it.

“Yeah. But the pictures on the Internet stay
forever.” The pressure of her hands against his chest forced him to move back
far enough for their stares to lock. “I think we both agree we want to get all
hot and heavy. But gotta take care of responsibilities first.”

They looked at each other until her attention
shifted over his shoulder. Horror and embarrassment contorted her expression.

“Oh my God, you little slut! Are you making out in
the elevator?”

Greiff turned and schooled his expression as
quickly as possible, but he was sure the person in question saw his eyebrows almost
disappear into his hair.

“I’m so proud! Come here and hug me. How you
managed to attract this delicious lump of beefcake I’ll never know. I mean you
don’t even have on some earrings or something to bring out your eyes.”

A six-foot-tall woman wearing a short, bobbed wig,
leopard-print spandex, platform sandals, and a crop top whisked into the
elevator, brandishing a pair of oversized sunglasses in one hand and an iced
coffee in the other. Her blinged-out nails were long enough to put a T-Rex to
shame. Chloe sidestepped him and moved toward the other female with stiff,
awkward movements.

Correction. Male.
She
had an Adam’s apple.
Had to be the famous Daisy Mae.

“Hi Daisy. I was just on my way to return a cart
to Frank.” Chloe nearly disappeared into a hug full of mumbled words and the
distinct stink of perfume.

“Oh, please introduce me to tall, dark, and
completely clueless in the wardrobe department. Where ever did you find him? I
swear; there’s someone for everyone.” Daisy switched her drink to her left hand
and held out the right.

Greiff shook it and refrained from pulling on the
appendage to get a closer look at the fingernails. He got the impression of
nail polish with glitter, a rhinestone or two, and black blotches of some kind.
Tiny pictures?

“Hi, I’m Daisy Mae, Chloe’s roommate. So nice to
meet you. Tell me, what excuse do you have for being so terrifically mismatched
this morning? I swear people hell bent on the destruction of fashion had a
field day in your closet.”

“Greiff.” His phone vibrated and he removed it,
grimacing at the number on the screen. “I’ve got to take this. It’s my
partner.”

He withheld a laugh at the look on Chloe’s
face—she moved to follow, but was blocked by her roommate. The door started to
close, and he stopped it with one hand, giving her a pointed look she used as
an excuse to exit the elevator as he answered the phone.

“Yeah.”

“Where you at man? Last I saw you; you were
jogging down the street, right past the coffee shop.”

He cleared his throat, glanced at Chloe, and squeezed
the phone. “Yeah, and I thought we already had this conversation. What are you,
my mother?”

Rustling noises came through the speaker. “So, did
you catch up to ‘em? ’Cause the captain is breathing down my neck. He wants to
know what the hell you’re doing and where you are. You gotta check in some.”

“I was following a lead. I’m a detective. That’s
what I do.” Neither of them brought up the reason for the captain’s concern. The
shooting had happened three months ago. Three months, eight days, and 17 hours
ago. But who was counting?

Eighteen years old. A career gang banger and drug
dealer who’d run the streets for a decade.

But still just a kid. It brought back memories of
other kids overseas who’d lay dead in the streets beside burned out buildings
or in mountain caves.

“Yeah, and you also have a partner. So?”

Chloe had crossed to the far side of the lobby and
appeared engaged in some kind of verbal sparring match with her roommate. Daisy
Mae held her hands out; fingers splayed, and tapped one foot. He blinked and
stared, realized Daisy Mae wasn’t just an outrageous dresser.

She was in color. Two people in one day, when he
hadn’t seen anyone or anything in color for years. Maybe he needed to visit an
eye doctor.

“Greiff.” Spetrino barked his voice and he
flinched.

“What?”

“The lead. Did it pan out?” The squawk of a radio
sounded in the background.

“Ah, no. Just some lady rubber-necking. I’ll see
you tomorrow. I’m taking the rest of the day off. Personal time.” Not the right
thing to do, but he had it coming. No one would say a word either. They’d all
been on him to take time off. Said some distance would help him get over
killing the kid. But he found being alone in his empty apartment made
everything worse. “Take care of it for me, would ya?”

“All right. I got your back.”

Greiff started toward Chloe, wondering what the
hell she and her roommate were discussing. The look on Chloe’s face bordered on
terror.

“Yeah.” He ended the call and stuffed his phone in
his pocket.

“Please darling. You know how much I love it when
you do my nails.” Daisy Mae turned to him and held out her hands, fingers
dangling, and wagged them back and forth. “Detective, help me convince Chloe to
be a good roomie and give her pal a mani. You should have her give you one some
time. You won’t believe the job she does. Amazing. Totally amazing.”

Chloe shook her head and made slicing motions near
her neck. Then she pantomimed hanging herself.

“I’m sure she does. But I’m stealing her for the
evening. She’s supposed to buy me dinner with eight dollars.” Daisy Mae chortled
and smoothed her wig. He frowned. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Only that little miss fashion reject there is an
even worse cook than she is a dresser. Have fun with that.” She hugged Chloe
before sauntering to the elevator. “See you later, Cee-Cee. I expect details
when you get home.”

“Um, yeah. Okay.” Chloe almost ran for the door.

Greiff followed her outside into the heat, rubbed
his palms together, and tried to memorize the sensation of cupping her breast
and the way the tight curves of her ass filled his hands. With a woman like
Chloe around, taking a day off held appeal rather than empty silence and the
ghosts of his memories. The sight of her skipping down the steps kicked his
pulse rate higher. He hoped he’d get to enjoy the silk and heat of her skin
under his fingers and the erotic sounds she made when he kissed her again soon.