The Angel and the Outlaw Read online

  “It’s the only game in town.”

  “That’s what I heard. Sure looks busy in here.”

  “The hours suck, but the pay’s good. I told Sproule you were okay. You thinking of getting in on it?”

  “Maybe.” Cooper went into a leisurely stretch, flexing his arms until his back cracked. He finished up by casually closing the door. “Right now I’ve got other business. Oliver said he’d move some TVs for me.”

  “Yeah. He wants them over by that wall.”

  Cooper turned toward the trailer. “I’ve got to ditch this rig before daylight but I’m beat. Give me a hand unloading, will you?”

  Izzy was still looking at the cab. His gaze moved over the window in the upper side. “That’s one big mother. What you got in there?”

  A bead of sweat worked its way down Cooper’s temple. He angled his head so Izzy wouldn’t see it. “A sexy blonde who’s got the hots for me.” He snapped his gum with his tongue. “That’s why I’m beat.”

  Izzy hesitated a second, then guffawed, punched his arm, and followed him to the back of the trailer.

  Hayley set the carton of orange juice and two glasses on the table and sank onto the bench of the breakfast nook, automatically sliding to the spot beside the window that had been hers as a child. Sunlight was filtering through the maples at the back of the yard, spreading a mottled pattern of gold across the table. It looked wonderfully ordinary and normal. It was just what she needed. She flattened her palms in the middle of it.

  She remembered eating her cereal here before school. She used to love the kind with marshmallow bits but her father only bought granola. Until he moved out, Adam would regularly sneak a box of the marshmallow kind into the cupboard. Sometimes at night, her brother would play cards with her at this table. He had tried to teach her poker, but she hadn’t been much good at it. She was incapable of bluffing.

  Funny, Cooper had figured that out on the night they had met.

  “Forget the orange juice.” Cooper strode across the kitchen, yanked open the refrigerator and looked inside. “We could use some beer.”

  “Sorry, I don’t have any.”

  “I can see that. You don’t have much of anything in here except rabbit food.” He squatted to peer into the bottom shelves. His jeans tightened, outlining the long muscles in his thighs and the taut curves of his buttocks.

  Hayley was exhausted, yet at the same time she was strangely charged, as if the nervous energy that had been humming through her body for the past ten hours was floating around loose with nothing to focus on. She should try not to focus on Cooper. She jerked her gaze away from his butt and leaned forward, sliding her hands through the patch of sunshine. “There’s some white wine on the door. Help yourself.”

  “Do you want some?”

  “It’s eight o’clock in the morning.”

  “So? Live dangerously.”

  She dropped her head between her extended arms, feeling a mad urge to laugh. “I think I’ve had about all the excitement I can take for one night, Cooper.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You handled the whole thing pretty good for an amateur.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Sure, you did. You kept your head. That’s why we got out of there in one piece.” The refrigerator door whooshed shut. Cooper’s footsteps thudded against the tile floor. “You’re still too wound up, Hayley. If you’re not going to have any wine, do some deep breathing. You’ve got to relax and let this go.”

  She closed her eyes, not wanting to remember those endless hours in the warehouse. Or at least, it had felt like hours. In reality, it could only have been minutes—Cooper had emptied the trailer in less than a third the time it had taken to fill it. “I thought everyone in that warehouse would have heard my teeth chattering.”

  The bench across from her creaked as he sat. His knee bumped hers under the table. “That’s why I chewed gum, so no one would notice mine.”

  “You were as cool as ice, Cooper. I can’t believe you had the nerve to joke with that man who wanted to know what was in the cab.”

  “You mean Izzy?”

  “Yes. I heard the whole thing.”

  “Who was joking? You’re blond and you have a bad case of the hots for me, don’t you?”

  Another laugh threatened, but her throat was too tight to let it through. “What if he’d looked into the cab anyway?”

  He touched her knuckle with his fingertip. “Before I let it go that far, there would have been skid marks on the warehouse floor and a hole in the overhead door the size of that semi.”

  The resolve in Cooper’s voice warmed her as much as his touch. He sounded protective, yet if she mentioned it, he would probably claim his main concern had been not blowing his cover. She lifted her head, pulling her hand away from his to shove her hair from her eyes.

  He leaned back and draped his arm along the top of the bench. The tattoo on his forearm stood out starkly in the daylight, rippling over the contours of his muscles. His sweatshirt pulled snugly across his shoulders. The night’s growth of beard stubble shadowed his jaw. His hair bore the grooves of his fingers. Against the homey backdrop of the sunlit kitchen, he looked barely civilized. And outrageously masculine.

  She tried to focus on business. “At least the first part of your plan worked. You started your association with Oliver.”

  “We did more than that, Hayley. We saw that you were on the right track. Oliver’s got some major action going on from that warehouse.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I’ll wait for him to sell those TVs before I talk to him again, but I’ll probably meet up with Izzy before that. I’ll see what he knows about those crates by the back wall that everyone was so interested in.”

  “The wooden crates?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They were from Russia.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “My college roommate grew up in Moscow and used to read newspapers from home. The label on the top crate was written in Russian. I recognized the alphabet and a few of the words.”

  “You shouldn’t have seen anything. You should have kept your head down.”

  “I did. I only saw the top of the stack.”

  He drummed his fingers on the back of the seat, then reached for the carton of orange juice, poured a glass and pushed it toward her. “You said Sproule was bringing parts in from overseas. Any from Russia?”

  She picked up the glass and sipped. “There was one company that was based in Vladivostok.”

  “Can you can get some names to go with that company?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “We need to find out what kind of goods these people are known for.”

  “Goods. Do you think they’re smuggling something into the country in those crates?”

  “It’s the only thing that explains all the security.”

  “Drugs?”

  “There are plenty of things he could be into, but that would be my first guess. There’s a big profit margin in drugs.”

  “If that’s what Adam found out, Oliver would have kept him from telling anyone. If we can prove Oliver is involved in smuggling, we can connect this with Adam’s notebook and establish a solid motive for murder.”

  Cooper jiggled the orange juice carton—from the sound of it there wasn’t much left. He held it out to her. When she shook her head, he lifted the carton to his mouth and drained it. “It would be less complicated to concentrate only on the smuggling.”

  “Instead of Adam’s notes?”

  “No, as a crime. It would be easier to prove than murder, and we could take it to the feds so we wouldn’t have to go through the Latchford police and run the risk of having the case covered up. Depending on what’s in those crates, Sproule could be facing some hard time for trafficking.”

  “But he’s guilty of murder. I thought you had to right the wrong of his acquittal.”

  “He’s guilty of a lot of things. As long as Sproule ends up i
n jail, does it matter how he gets there?”

  Her first impulse was to protest. She wanted Adam’s killer convicted for his murder. She wanted public acknowledgment that Oliver was guilty. She had spent the last seven months working toward that goal. She had promised her father that Oliver would be punished and she hadn’t wanted to settle for less.

  Yet the idea of compromise was no longer as unthinkable as it had been only yesterday. She had already compromised her principles. Charade or not, the theft she and Cooper had acted out had felt real, and she had been a willing accomplice. And she couldn’t forget what she had almost done a week ago.

  No, principles didn’t seem as black-and-white as they used to.

  Cooper’s approach had merit. Now that he had established a working connection with Sproule, he could learn details of a significant portion of his criminal dealings. It would probably be easier to gather evidence of crimes that were ongoing rather than one that was seven months old…

  The realization struck her all at once. Of course. Cooper would have known that it would be difficult to find concrete evidence proving Adam’s death wasn’t accidental. That wasn’t the reason he had gone undercover. “You never planned to get Sproule for murder,” she said. “You were intending to find evidence of some other crime all along.”

  He nodded. There was no apology in his gaze. “That’s right. After all this time, there’s not much chance of proving murder.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I warned you that we didn’t want the same thing.”

  “Yes, you did, but I had assumed you meant in spirit.”

  “That, too. I told you it wasn’t a personal vendetta for me. You know how I feel about your brother, and I’m not out to avenge his death. I’m doing this to keep my bar.”

  “What about Tony? Will having Oliver arrested on something other than murder satisfy him?”

  “All he’s interested in is justice. How I do it is up to me.”

  “Is there anything else you haven’t bothered to tell me, Cooper?”

  “Why are you sounding so pissed again? I thought you would be happy that we’re making progress.”

  “I am, but I don’t like the way you dole out bits of the truth to me. You’re always doing that. I’ve been completely honest with you.”

  “Bull.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He stood, walked to her side of the breakfast nook and braced his knee on the bench beside her hip. Gripping the edge of the table with one hand and the top of the seat with the other, he caged her between his arms. “You haven’t been honest with me about one thing, Hayley.”

  “What?”

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. “That kiss last week wasn’t meaningless.”

  Just when she’d thought she was getting the attraction under control, he was close enough for her to catch a whiff of pine from his soap and the unique, musky scent of a man who had been awake all night. She was helpless to stop the sudden jump of her pulse. “You’re trying to change the subject and it won’t work. I’m not going to be sidetracked.”

  He put his finger on the dip at the base of her throat. “We were talking about honesty.”

  “Cooper…”

  “So I’m going to be honest. You’re still on a high from the job. That’s why you’re so edgy. You don’t really want to argue with me, you’re just searching for a way to get rid of all that tension.”

  “Of course, I’m tense. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve never ridden a truckload of extorted televisions into a warehouse full of armed men before.”

  “Are you still scared?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to call off our partnership?”

  “No!”

  He hooked his thumb into the neck band of her sweater and tugged her toward him. “Do you want me to stop?”

  God, no, she thought. But this was crazy. She knew her priorities. “Cooper…”

  “You’re no good at hiding your feelings, Hayley, and the way you’ve been looking at me since we got here is driving me nuts.”

  “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, but—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with this idea.” He dragged his knuckle along her collarbone. “We’ve both been thinking about it for a week.”

  She could have moved away. Averted her head. Pressed further into the corner by the window. She could have grabbed his wrist and taken his hand away from her sweater. Simplest of all, she could have told him to stop.

  She didn’t. Whether this was an aftereffect of anxiety or a consequence of fatigue didn’t seem to matter because it was precisely what she had needed since he had brought her home. So why shouldn’t she allow herself this one indulgence?

  Any further thought was impossible. He lowered his head and kissed her.

  He tasted of orange juice. On his lips, it seemed exotic, turning a flavor she had grown up with into something different, dark and exciting. He didn’t need to test for the best angle this time. He fitted his mouth to hers with the confidence of a long-time lover.

  Delight flowed through her, loosening the lingering anxiety from the night. Each change in pressure, every shift of his lips was a renewed exploration, building on the kiss before. He made her feel as if this was all there was, all that mattered. How could she help but kiss him back?

  At her response, he slid his knuckles from her neckline to the upper slope of her breast. The caress was light—he’d looked at her more boldly than he was touching her—yet the sensations that followed warmed her to her core. Passion mixed with comfort and…rightness.

  She arched her back, lifting herself more firmly into his hand.

  He crowded closer on the bench beside her and spread his fingers, cupping her breast with swift possessiveness. His touch was no longer light. Heat tightened her stomach and streaked to her thighs so fast she shuddered. She opened her mouth. His tongue plunged inside. The kiss turned carnal, a sensual, frank exchange of pleasure.

  It was more than she could have imagined. His breath on her cheek, the scent of his skin, the press of his thigh against hers…she felt engulfed by his presence. He slipped his hands beneath her sweater and deftly unhooked her bra. She gasped at the pleasure. He knew just where to stroke, just how to squeeze, using his fingers and his palms in a way that made her quiver.

  She lifted her arms to his neck, leaning into him, hanging on as her senses spun. The more he touched her, the more she wanted. Her nipples were so tight, they stung. Pressure built to an ache between her thighs. Their mouths mimicked what her body craved. It was reckless and exhilarating, escalating so rapidly within minutes they were both on the thin edge of control.

  He caught her arms and slid backward, tugging her off the bench with him. As soon as she was clear from the table, he splayed his fingers over her hips and pulled her against the front of his body.

  She could feel his erection against her stomach, and she knew that’s what he’d intended. It was a declaration. A question. And oh, she couldn’t stop her tremor of response. She had never been this totally aroused. He was incredibly, blatantly…male.

  He ran the point of his tongue down the side of her neck. “Hayley?”

  No sweet words. No promises. She understood what he was offering. Sex. Simple and straightforward, with no pretenses that it was anything else. After the kiss they had just shared, that’s what any man would expect.

  You’re still on a high from the job.

  Some of the heat ebbed. Was that all this was, just a mindless physical reaction? Probably. It was an outlet for their adrenaline. A natural result of the excitement of the night.

  He must have sensed her hesitation. He raised his head. His nostrils were flared. His gaze bore into hers as his thumbs dug into her waist.

  There was no tenderness in his expression, no hint of the sensitivity she had glimpsed before. He wanted sex. He didn’t want intimacy.

  It’s a damn good thing you do know better, Hayley.

&nb
sp; Finally, her brain kicked into gear. Indulging in a kiss with a man like Cooper was one thing, but anything else would be asking for heartache. She placed her palm on his chest. “This isn’t what I want.”

  He trailed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, rubbed the moisture against his fingertips and held them up to her. “No?”

  She took a step away. Her legs were unsteady. She grabbed the back of the bench. “All right. I admit it. I enjoyed the kiss. It wasn’t meaningless, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  “Why?”

  “We have to work together. This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  He covered her hand where it gripped the bench. “How long has it been?”

  “What?”

  “Since you ate a good meal? Since you slept the night?” He stroked her hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Since you slept with a man?”

  “Are you asking me that only because you want me to sleep with you, or because you actually care about me, Cooper?”

  He didn’t reply. He looked as uncomfortable as he had after his outburst in the truck when he’d behaved as if he’d been concerned about her feelings.

  Reality returned with a thump. The rest of the pleasure dissipated. She felt a sharp prickle behind her eyes as another thought occurred to her. “Or are you doing this because I’m Adam Tavistock’s little sister?”

  His gaze shuttered, as if a door had slammed somewhere inside him, but not before there was a flash of pain. “Is that what you think of me?” His voice was carefully controlled, as cold and distant as stones dropping into a well. “Do you believe that I would want to have sex with you as some sick scheme to get back at your brother?”

  Hayley pressed her fingers to her mouth. Her instincts were screaming at her that he hadn’t deserved her accusation, but now that the words had been spoken, they stood like a wall between them.

  Yet wasn’t that why she had said them? To push him away before either of them could get closer?

  He yanked her hand away from her mouth. Grasping the back of her neck, he held her in place and gave her a hard kiss. His lips were firm and unyielding. He kept his eyes open, his blue gaze snapping with anger. It wasn’t so much a kiss as a challenge.