“You are not going to traipse down to the wharf alone at eleven o’clock at night.”

A little thrill raced down Kacie’s back. She couldn’t help it. “He’ll never talk if he sees you there.

“Who said he’s going to see me?”

She waved her hand over Ryan’s imposing form. “Little hard for someone like you to blend in.”

“I have my ways.”

“As long as you stay out of sight. I don’t want you spoiling my meeting.”

“How about saving your life?” He pushed back from the table and stepped around it to pull her chair out for her. “Is that okay with you?”

She nodded as silly schoolgirl butterflies took flight in her belly.

She’d have to watch herself with this man, in more ways than one. Because she couldn’t let a sexy grin and a pair of strong arms deter her from exacting her revenge.

The Wharf
Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROL ERICSON lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, “Where romance flirts with danger.”

To my editor Allison, who gets it

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

The clanging of the halyards against the masts of the sailboats docked at the pier echoed across the water, sounding like a death-knell chorus.

“He wants revenge against you for tricking him, and he’s gonna get it if you don’t watch yourself.”

Kacie Manning’s back tingled with the warning, as if someone had already placed a target there. She peered at the man three feet away from her. His face was obscured by a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead and a bandana hiding his mouth and chin.

“Would you be willing to go to the police and tell them what you just told me? He can’t make threats like that from prison.”

The figure hugging the shadows hunched his shoulders. “I’m not getting on his bad side. The man’s a straight-up psychopath. If the warden pays him a visit, Dan’s gonna know who talked.”

Kacie hugged herself, dipping her hands into the sleeves of her baggy sweater to ward off the chill of the night...and his words. “How’s Dan going to get the word out on the street? The prison monitors his communication.”

The man whistled between his teeth, and the bandana puffed out from his face. “I thought you knew Daniel Walker. You wrote a book about him, didn’t you?”

“You know that, or we wouldn’t be here.”

“Then you should know what he’s capable of, Kacie. He ain’t just a psycho. He’s a crafty psycho.”

Goose bumps raced across her flesh, and she rubbed her arms. This ex-con obviously knew Daniel Walker well. Not everyone did—his own family sure hadn’t. “Did he actually confess to the murders?”

“No way.” He scratched at his chin beneath the bandana. “He’s too smart for that. He still wants to keep on pretending. He started talking to me about karma one day before my parole. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but then he explained it’s like revenge, comeuppance. And he told me you were gonna get yours.”

“Why are you telling me this? Why are you warning me?”

“I dunno.” He shuffled a step closer, careful to keep his face in the darkness. “You’re a pretty little gal, Kacie. I saw you once or twice when you came to the big house to interview Walker.”

She tried to swallow, but her dry throat wouldn’t allow it.

He’d seen her at Walla Walla? Maybe Walker had sent him to take care of his business. She shuffled back a few steps. “That still doesn’t explain why you’d risk Walker’s anger to warn me.”

“You remind me of my sister a little bit.” His eyes glittered in the dark. “Besides, I ain’t risking nothing. It’s not like you’re going to go running to Walker telling him someone from the state pen warned you about him, right?”

“Of course not.”

A squeaking noise to her right made her grit her teeth. She jerked her head to the side and spotted a shopping cart rumbling around the corner, with a ramshackle man in rags steering it.

The parolee across from her swore and spit from beneath his bandana.

The homeless man trundled toward them, one wheel of his cart squealing and wobbling over the cement walkway.

Kacie held her breath as he drew next to them.

“Can you spare some change?” His hand was already protruding from the dirt-encrusted sleeve of his jacket.

Her informant had ducked back into the shadows, but his voice lashed out at the transient from the anonymity of the darkness. “Move it along, buddy.”

The homeless man must’ve heard something in the other man’s voice because he thrust his cart in front of him and picked up his ambling pace without a word or backward glance.

The transient had enough street smarts to recognize a dangerous man when he heard one. What was her problem? Could she even trust an ex-con wearing a bandana across his lower face?

She scooped in a breath of salty air. “Like I was saying, I have no reason to tell Walker anything.”

“You sure he didn’t charm the pants off you? Make you wet?” The man chuckled low in his throat.

Kacie clenched her jaw where a muscle jumped wildly. He was just trying to make her uncomfortable, push her buttons.

She snorted. “Did you read my book?”

“I don’t read no books, but I heard about it. You tried and convicted the guy all over again and kicked him for good measure.”

“Then you should know his smooth talk didn’t work on me.”

“You’re a good actress, Kacie.”

She flinched. She wished he’d stop using her name. They weren’t friends. They weren’t even acquaintances.

“Why do you say that?”

“’Cuz Walker thought he had you eating out of the palm of his hand during all those interviews you two did together.”

“Oh well.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“That’s why he was so pissed off. It’s not just that you wrote a book that made him look bad. It’s that he thought he had you.”

“He thought wrong.” And she’d done nothing in the interviews that would’ve made him think otherwise. She’d come into the project suspecting an innocent man had been convicted of murdering his wife and children. Several interviews later, she knew she was dealing with a sociopath, a guilty sociopath.

“Yeah, he had you all wrong.” He adjusted his cap with a hand sporting a tattoo of a cross on the back. “That’s why he wants to kill you.”

The wind whistled in from across the bay and blew right through her. She huddled into her sweater further. “Thanks for the heads-up.” She dug into her pocket for a hundred-dollar bill, creased it and held it out to him.

Stepping back, he sucked in a breath. “I ain’t no snitch. I didn’t tell you for money.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” She crumpled the bill in her fist and shoved it back in her pocket. “I appreciate the warning, that’s all.”

“Sure, sure. I told you. You remind me of my sister.”

He pivoted, melting into the shadow of the building.

Kacie took one step away and cranked her head over her shoulder. “What were you in for?”

The voice came from the darkness like disembodied evil. “Killing my sister.”

Kacie’s hand flew to her mouth and she stumbled toward the weak light spilling from the ticket booth for the submarine. Her heart hammered so hard she wouldn’t have been able to hear footsteps even if they were coming straight toward her.

This time she didn’t care if she gave him the satisfaction of knowing he’d shocked her.... He had. She broke into a jog, heading for the lights at the more popular end of the wharf—not that teeming crowds met her here, either. Late on a Sunday night, Fisherman’s Wharf wasn’t exactly crackling with tourists and street performers. The fishermen had hauled in their catches many hours before and would be ready to go out in a few more. The hipsters and club hoppers were ducking in and out of bars in other areas of the city—other areas where the air didn’t reek of fish and resound with the clanging of masts.

Her footsteps carried her past the darkened and shuttered restaurants, past the homeless people huddled on benches or in doorways. She kept glancing over her shoulder, half expecting to see the masked face of the sister-killing parolee. He’d probably just been trying to yank her chain. Was there anyone in prison who didn’t lie?

If San Francisco were the type of city where you could hail a taxi on the street, she’d do it. No point in standing on a dark corner placing a call and waiting for one to show up.

Her legs moved faster. A few die-hard T-shirt shops still hoped for the odd tourist on a late-night souvenir run. The lights spilling from their windows tempered her pulse rate.

When she hit the street that led to her hotel, her breathing almost returned to normal.

A hotel near Fisherman’s Wharf wouldn’t have been her first choice, but Ryan Brody was staying there, so it was good enough for her.

He had at least two brothers living in the city, so she couldn’t figure out why he didn’t stay with one of them. Maybe there was a rift in the family.

Her lips stretched into a humorless smile. If that was the case, it couldn’t happen to a better bunch.

Brody. The name filled her with unspeakable rage.

Kacie let out a pent-up breath as she hiked up the sidewalk to her hotel. A few more people, other than the transients who owned the night, crisscrossed the street and wandered into the shops still selling their wares.

Kacie greeted the bellhop as she stepped through the doors of the hotel. “Is the hotel pool still open?”

“It’s open twenty-four hours, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”

When she got to her room, she fired up her laptop. She planned to find out the identity of her talkative ex-con. As the computer booted up, she shed her clothes and wriggled into a bikini. Then she grabbed the hotel-issued terry-cloth robe and threw it over the back of a chair.

She leaned over the laptop, her hands hovering above the keyboard. What was the murder of a sister called? Fratricide? Or was it something different for a sister?

She tapped the keyboard. He’d been imprisoned at Walla Walla, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d committed his crime in Washington.

She twisted her stiff neck from side to side and then shoved the computer away. She could do this the next morning before she met with Ryan Brody. Right now, she needed a little relaxation.

She slipped her arms into the robe and knotted the sash around her waist. Twisting her hair around her hand, she headed for the bathroom. Her toiletry bag hung on a hook on the back of the door, and she dug inside one of the pockets until her fingers tripped across a hair clasp.

She secured her hair, dropped her key card in her pocket and pulled her door securely closed behind her.

The vacant indoor pool beckoned. She shrugged out of the robe and draped it over a chair. She jerked her head toward some splashing coming from the hot tub. Three teenage boys rose from the bubbling water in unison, steam floating off their bodies.

They better not be heading toward the pool. She sat on the edge and lowered herself into the lukewarm water. She kicked off the wall, and the water enveloped her as she sliced through it, her arms windmilling and her flutter kick just breaking the surface.

In, out, in, out. Her regulated breathing calmed her and cleared her brain of all the ugliness she dealt with on a daily basis—all the ugliness yet to come.

She finished her laps and, placing her hands flat on the deck, hoisted herself out of the pool.

One glance at the hot tub and a trail of water leading to the door told her the boys had left. She made a beeline for the sauna. She pulled one of the heavy doors open and poked her head inside where the dry heat blasted her. It was blissfully empty inside. She spread her towel out on one of the wooden benches and stretched out on her back, crossing her arms beneath her head.

She’d play it cool with Brody. She’d play it nice and civil—just like she had with Daniel Walker. Not that Ryan Brody, youngest police chief in the state of California, was a serial killer.

But his dad was.

She stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes. It felt great, but she couldn’t take much more than ten minutes in the sauna.

A sound at the doors had her doing a half sit-up. She stared at the heavy wooden doors but nobody entered the sauna.

Good. Maybe someone had heard her in there. She rolled to her stomach, burying her face in her arms.

Sweat trickled down her back and dripped from her elbow. Sitting up, she dabbed the corner of her towel between her breasts.

She swung her feet to the floor and ladled a small amount of eucalyptus oil over the hot rocks. They sizzled and the fresh scent of eucalyptus soaked the room.

She took a few deep, cleansing breaths and then stood up and pushed at the door. It wouldn’t budge.

She wiped her hands on her towel and grabbed one of the door handles with two hands and gave it a shove. Wedging her shoulder against the wood, she drove into one door and then the other. The doors stayed firmly in place and now her shoulder hurt.

What the hell? The bellhop had told her the pool area was open all night and the sign on the door had verified that. There was no way they’d be locking up now. And why would they lock the sauna from the outside?

She pushed at the doors again and heard a rattle against the wood.

“Hello? Is anyone out there? Can you open the doors?”

Only the hissing and dripping of the rocks answered her.

She scanned the walls of the sauna for a phone, an emergency shutoff or a call button and saw nothing but smooth, dry wood.

“Hey!” She pounded her fists against the doors. “I’m in here.”

Sweat poured off her face and she mopped it with her towel. Trickles of it ran down her chest to her belly and more droplets crept down her spine.

Her breathing shortened and she parted her lips to drag in a long breath. The dry air filled her lungs.

She dumped another ladle of oil on the rocks and gulped in the rising steam.

Someone had to come in there shortly. If the pool was open twenty-four hours, maybe the cleaning crew came in the middle of the night.

She tried one of the doors again, driving her shoulder against it. Again, she heard a rattling on the outside. Was there something blocking the door? A sauna wouldn’t have a lock on the outside.

She planted her feet on the wood floor and flattened her palms against the double doors. She dug in and pushed with her entire weight. One of the doors moved past the other about a half an inch.

She pressed her eye to the crack, but the doors were too thick and there was very little space between them.

She put her lips to the space between the doors and screamed. “Help! I’m locked in the sauna.”

The yelling weakened her, and her knees wobbled. She put a hand out for the bench and sank to its hot surface, which scorched the backs of her thighs. Everything was hot now.

She ran her tongue around her parched mouth and tipped her head back to peer at the ceiling. She eyed a square vent with mesh across it. Could she fit through that? Where did it lead?

She stood on the bench and reached for the vent, her fingertips skimming the mesh. She rolled up her towel and stood on top of it. She slammed the heels of her hands against the vent and then noticed the screws.

With nothing gained except sore palms, she lowered herself to the bench.

Her robe. She’d left her robe hanging over one of the chairs. Maybe someone would notice it from the gym that looked out onto the pool and come out to pick it up.

She pressed her face against the double doors again and screamed. “Help! I’m in the sauna.”

She was going to meet her death in a hotel sauna. A laugh bubbled to her lips. Her parents were going to have a helluva lawsuit.

She pressed her hands to her hot, moist face and her eyelids fluttered. How long had she been in there? Maybe she’d just pass out, and they’d find her in the morning.

She dropped to the bench before her knees could buckle under her. She’d try screaming again in a minute or two—when she got her breath back.

A voice! Had she imagined it?

She hopped up, adrenaline surging through her body. “Is someone there? I’m in the sauna.”

Scratching and scraping noises echoed from outside the sauna and the doors wobbled. Then they flew open and cool air rushed into her wooden prison.

She heard a male voice, strong and angry. “What the hell happened?”

Her legs couldn’t support her and she fell forward.

Her rescuer caught her in a pair of solid arms, and for a moment she melted against him. “Thank you. Oh my God, I was trapped in there.”

“You’re burning up. You need water.” The man took a step back and tilted up her chin.

Her gaze met a pair of murky green eyes, which widened and grew lighter.

Her mouth dropped open, and her body jerked. She’d just fallen into the arms of the enemy.

Chapter Two

Ryan swallowed and then choked. “I’ll be damned.”

Kacie Manning’s eyelids drooped and her body went limp again. He swept her up in his arms and carried her to a chaise longue. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”

He dashed into the gym next door and grabbed his bottle of water from the floor next to the fly machine. By the time he’d returned, Kacie had opened her eyes, but they still hadn’t lost their glassy look.

He held the bottle to her dry lips. “Drink this.”

She parted her lips and he tipped the water into her mouth. She sputtered and coughed, then chugged half the bottle.

He poured some of the water into his cupped hand and splashed her face. She blinked a pair of impossibly long lashes and sniffled.

“Sorry, but you need to cool down.”

“I—I’m okay.” She reached for the bottle and downed the rest of the water.

“How long were you in there?”

“I have no idea. Was it locked from the outside? Why didn’t it open?”

He held up a finger. “Hold on.”

He grabbed the empty bottle, filled it up from the water dispenser in the gym and swung by the sauna to pluck the pool net from the tiled floor.

He sat in the chair next to Kacie’s chaise and handed her the bottle. “More.”

While she wrapped her lips around the bottle, he held up the pool net by its long handle. “This was shoved across the doors.”

“What?” She dropped the bottle onto the tile, where it spun, its mouth ending up pointing his way.

“I was working out in the gym. I just sat down on the fly machine and noticed the handle of the net wedged between the door handles of the sauna. I didn’t know if it was a joke or what, but it looked dangerous.”

“Someone shoved that across the handles while I was in there.” She dabbed wet fingers across her forehead. “But it was no joke. I was getting weak and dehydrated.”

“Was there anyone out here when you went into the sauna?” Her flushed red cheeks and bright eyes made her look younger than her picture.

“There were some teenage boys horsing around in the hot tub when I first came down, but they’d left by the time I hit the sauna.”

“They could’ve come back.”

Her eyes darkened to rich chocolate and her nostrils flared. “Maybe. I’m reporting it to the hotel.”

“Of course.”

It seemed ridiculous to introduce himself now after he’d held her half-naked body in his arms, but protocol demanded it if they were going to work together. He cleared his throat and thrust out his hand. “I suppose we should start from the top with a more formal introduction. I’m Ryan Brody. It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Ms. Manning, even though the circumstances could’ve been better.”

“Kacie Manning.” She gripped his hand in a firm shake and then her face reddened even more as she glanced down at her wet bikini, plastered to her body and covering just the bare essentials.

Dropping his hand as if he had the cooties, she jerked upright and swung her legs from the chaise.

He hunched forward in his chair, ready to catch her in case she toppled over. “Whoa. You shouldn’t be making any sudden moves. Do you want more water?”

“I want,” she said, her gaze darting across the pool, “my robe.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea yet.” He swirled his finger in the air. “You want to give your skin plenty of ventilation.”

It sounded good, anyway. Truth was, he didn’t want her covering up that beautiful body just yet. The small triangles covering her breasts and nestled between her legs left the rest of her curves on stunning display. The photo on her book cover of her in a blouse and jacket hadn’t done her justice. She’d probably sell even more books if she posed in this bikini.

Good thing she couldn’t read his male-chauvinist thoughts. His earnest look must’ve won out over his lustful one because she collapsed against the chaise longue, crossing her legs primly at the ankles.

“You’re right.” She pressed the back of her hand to her cheek. “But I think my body temperature is returning to normal.”

At least someone’s was.

He scooted his chair closer to her and leaned forward, brushing her wet hair aside and skimming his fingers across her forehead. “You’re hot.”

Her gaze slid to his face and she folded her arms across her chest. “I think maybe I should get back to my room, get some clothes on and report this to the hotel.”

“I’ll help you.” He scooted his chair back and held out his arm for support as she rose from the chaise.

She ignored him, but not for long. As she straightened up, she swayed to the side and clutched at his proffered arm.

He curled the other one around her bare waist. “Take it easy. Just lean on me.”

She took a few shuffling steps and then dragged in a long breath. “I think I’m good now.”

“I can carry you up to your room. It’ll make your complaint to the hotel even better.”

Her dark eyes flashed and he felt their heat. He’d gone too far.

He raised his hands, palms facing forward. “Just a thought.”

She swept her robe from the back of a chair and folded it around her body. The entire pool deck seemed to drop a few degrees.

By the time she reached the door to the hallway, her steps were steady. She turned toward him. “What are you doing at the hotel? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“I left work early and decided to make the drive down tonight instead of in the morning. Don’t feel compelled to move up our meeting time from lunch tomorrow just because I’m already here.”

“Lunch still works for me.” She shook her head and smiled. “Crazy way to meet.”

“I’m just glad I decided to hit the gym for a late workout.”

“Me too.”

She checked out his shoulders and arms, visible in his 49ers muscle T, making him glad he’d just been pumping iron.

He ushered her into the elevator before him. “Floor?”

“Fourth.”

He got off on the fourth floor with her, and she raised her eyebrows. “Are you on this floor, too?”

“One more up, but I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m not going to faint, Brody.”

“You never know. You were sweating buckets.”

“That must’ve looked...attractive.” She shoved her key card into the door and a row of green lights flashed.

“That looked scary. You lost a lot of fluids in that sauna.”

She shoved her door open and then spun around, wedging her hands on either side of the doorjamb. “You can wait out here while I change. If you hear a big thump, you know I went down.”

The door slammed in his face, and he jumped back. A little hostile, but he could understand why she wouldn’t want a strange man lounging in her hotel room while she got dressed.

And they were strangers, despite their intimate beginnings on the pool deck.

When she’d first called him a few months before, he had recognized the name. Hell, he’d already read her book on Daniel Walker. Fascinating stuff—former college-football player, respected businessman, Pop Warner coach—went berserk and murdered his entire family.

When she’d proposed writing a book on his own family tragedy, it piqued his interest. Kacie Manning, like many others, believed in his father’s innocence, and she had the resources, research skills and platform to prove it.

In the end, he’d had to run it by his brothers, especially Sean and Eric, the two oldest. They’d known Dad the best and had been affected by the dark cloud over the Brody name more than he and his younger brother, Judd, had been.

He’d braced himself for their opposition, but they surprised him by agreeing, or at least not objecting. They’d even uncovered a few pieces of evidence about the old case that Ryan planned to hand over to Kacie.

A loud thud resounded from Kacie’s room, and he banged on her door. “You okay in there?”

The door eased open and she poked her head out. “I’m still upright, but my suitcase isn’t—fell off the stand.”

“Are you ready?” He nodded at the water bottle in her hand. “Keep hydrating.”

“I’m so hydrated I’m ready to float away.” She stepped out of her room, pulled her door shut and shoved her key card in her back pocket.

As he followed Kacie down the hallway, he scanned her fully clothed form. The addition of a faded pair of jeans and a baggy T-shirt did nothing to conceal her attractiveness. Damn. At the pool, he’d figured his male libido had just been reacting to the way she filled out that bikini.

But this new iteration of Kacie Manning heated his blood as much as the bikini-clad one. The soft denim of her jeans tightened in all the right places, accentuating her rounded derriere. She’d finger-combed her shoulder-length copper hair into tousled, damp waves that looked as if she’d just had a roll in the sheets.

He couldn’t help it. Her appearance tweaked all his male parts. He had a hard time reconciling this lush body with the mind that had written that unflinching portrayal of a killer and sociopath.

Of course, if he ever admitted that thought to his brother’s fiancée, Christina, she’d slap him upside the head.

Passing the elevator, she pointed down the hall. “Stairs.”

He reached the door before her and held it open. “After you.”

Walking closely behind her down the stairwell, he had a hard time concentrating on the steps and almost tripped on the last one.

“I thought I was the unsteady one.” She pushed through the fire door and strode into the deserted lobby. Her flip-flops slapped against her feet as she marched to the front desk.

The hotel clerk put down his coffee and met her eyes across the counter. “Good evening. My name is Michael. Can I help you?”

Kacie flattened her palms on the shiny wood and hunched forward. “Well, Michael, someone locked me in the sauna over an hour ago.”

The man’s eyes bulged from their sockets. “The sauna doesn’t lock from the outside.”

Pushing the waves from her face, Kacie shook her head. “I don’t mean locked. Someone used the handle of the pool net to wedge the doors closed.”

“That’s terrible! Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”

“I’m fine...now.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “He was in the gym and noticed the net. He let me out.”

“It’s lucky you’re both night owls. Did you see who did it?”

“No. There were some teenage boys in the hot tub earlier, but I don’t have any proof that they did anything.”

Ryan rested his arm on the counter. “Do you have a camera out there?”

“Sorry. We don’t.” He grabbed the receiver of his phone and barked into it. “Wesley, we have a situation in the lobby.”

Kacie sighed and straightened up. “Then I don’t know what you can do about it. The pool area and gym were empty when I went into the sauna. I heard a noise at the door about five minutes after I went in there. That must’ve been when the idiot decided to play his dangerous joke.”

A security guard crossed the lobby, his rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the marble tiles. “What’s the problem?”

“Miss...?” Michael raised his brows at Kacie.

“Manning, Kacie Manning.”

His forehead furrowed. “Wesley, Ms. Manning was the victim of a rather dangerous practical joke. Someone wedged the sauna doors shut while she was in there.”

Wesley tipped back his hat and scratched his forehead. “You don’t say. That’s a pretty stupid thing to do, especially at this time of night. Did you see anyone?”

“Just a few teens earlier, but they’d left by the time I went into the sauna.”

“Yeah, I saw those boys. I had to kick them out of the business center tonight. They were dripping water all over the computers and accessing porn sites.” Wesley cleared his throat. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Kacie waved her hand. “Oh, I know all about pornographic sites and that teenage boys—and even grown men—are big fans of them.”

Ryan slid her a sideways glance. Was that for his benefit? He’d better get his mind out of the bedroom and keep his eyes off her assets.

He stood tall and squared his shoulders. “If the boys were still wet, it sounds like they came straight from the pool. Where’d they go after you kicked them out of the business center?”

“I watched them get into the elevator, and I didn’t see them again. I’m assuming they went back to their rooms, but they could’ve snuck back down to the pool.”

Drawing her brows together, Kacie said, “I don’t think they had enough time if they were fooling around in the business center after they left the pool.”

The security guard turned to Ryan. “Sir, did you see anyone in the gym?”

“Nope.”

“The best I can do is talk to the boys if I see them again.” He wagged his finger at Kacie. “You need to be more careful, young lady. Didn’t your mama ever tell you to let someone know where you’re going at all times?”

Kacie covered her twitching lips with her hand. “No, sir, but that’s good advice.”

Wesley tugged his pants over his significant belly and sauntered away.

“Sorry about that, Ms. Manning. Wesley’s kind of old school.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“We do want to make this up to you, however. I’ll check with management, but I’m going to suggest we comp your stay with us, Ms. Manning.” He bent his head over his keyboard and started tapping.

“Thanks, Michael.” Kacie pointed at Ryan and mouthed the words You too?

He shook his head. He hadn’t been the one sweating it out in the sauna.

Michael looked up from his task. “Oh, this is a coincidence.”

“What is?” Kacie folded her hands on top of the counter.

“I left a message on your hotel phone earlier, probably when you were by the pool. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“Oh? What was the message? I didn’t notice one on my phone.”

“It’s a package, actually. Some transient came in here with it, said a woman had dropped it out front. Your name was on it, and when I looked it up, I discovered you were a guest at the hotel.”

“A package?” She shoved back from the counter and shrugged at Ryan. “I wasn’t carrying anything except my purse when I walked back to the hotel tonight.”

Michael rubbed his chin. “It had your name on it. I put it in the back. I’ll get it.”

“That’s weird. I didn’t bring any package with me.”

“Maybe someone was supposed to deliver something to you and left it with a doorman or bellhop, and it got left outside. At least your name’s on it, and the transient brought it in here.”

“I hope it’s not important. That’s a pretty shabby way to treat something important.”

Michael scurried from the back, balancing a lumpy, brown paper−wrapped package on his outstretched palms. He presented it to Kacie, her name scribbled in black felt pen across the outside. “Here you go, Ms. Manning. If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.” She took the package from his hands and spun around. “I’m going to open this now.”

She crossed the lobby and sank to the cushions of a love seat facing the door.

Ryan sat across from her and whipped out his knife. “Do you need something for the twine?”

“Yes, please.” She held the package out to him, and he sliced the blade through the twine wrapped around the brown paper. It covered something soft and shapeless.

Placing the package in her lap, Kacie began unwrapping it. When she folded back the last piece of paper, she gasped and jerked back.

He lunged out of his chair, falling on his knees in front of her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Holding the object with the paper, she turned it toward him. A rag doll with blond braids smiled at him with her stitched-on mouth.

His pulse slowed down. “A doll? Are you a collector?”

She shook the toy at him, and the braids flopped back and forth. “This isn’t just some random doll.”

His gaze tracked from the black button eyes of the doll to Kacie’s own round eyes taking up half her face. “Obviously. What is it?”

“Daniel Walker’s daughter was clutching this doll when he murdered her.”

Chapter Three

The doll grinned at her with a mouth that resembled a slash of blood, calling up images of the original doll at the Walker murder scene. Kacie pressed two shaky fingers to the red yarn on the rag doll’s face just to make sure it wasn’t blood.

“Kacie, what does this mean?”

She raised her head, her eyes locking onto Ryan’s as he put a steadying hand on her bouncing knee. The gesture had an immediate effect on her and she took a deep breath. She didn’t have to face this alone right now. “Zoe Walker had a doll just like this one. When they found her body, she had one arm wrapped around her doll—this doll.”

“I remember the doll from your book. This one’s not yours, is it?” He flicked the paper with his fingers.

“No. This is the first time I’ve seen a doll like this since I saw the original. Someone sent this to me. That homeless guy didn’t find a package outside the hotel. Someone probably paid him to deliver it to this hotel.”

As a shiver rolled through her body, she pushed the doll from her lap, where it landed on the carpet still cradled in the brown paper.

“Wait.” Ryan picked up two corners of the wrapping. “This might contain some evidence—fingerprints, hair, clothing fibers.”

She shifted away from the doll as he placed the package next to her on the cushion and carefully folded the paper around the toy.

“Do you want to tell me why someone would want to send this particular doll to you?” He sat back on his heels as if he had all night to wait for an explanation.

She had no intention of making him wait that long. Despite her revulsion toward all things Brody, she couldn’t deny the trust this man fostered in her bones.

He’d saved her from the sauna. His capable hands, square jaw and broad shoulders signaled stability and security. His green eyes reflected sincerity—when they weren’t darkening to something more like lust, which happened anytime they wandered over her body.

The fears of the night, beginning with the fratricidal ex-con, flooded her senses, and her pulse rate galloped a mile a minute. She filled her lungs with a deep breath from her nose and expelled it through parted lips to ward off the rising panic and rushing adrenaline.

“Kacie, are you okay?” Ryan squeezed her knee.

“Fighting off an anxiety attack.” She pointed to the ceiling. “I’ll tell you all about this doll and who sent it from the comfort of my own room while holding a glass of wine in one hand.”

“You got it.” He sprang to his feet and held out his hand. “I’ll help you up. One of my officers suffers from panic attacks, and she always gets a little dizzy.”

She gripped his warm hand and struggled to her feet. “You have a cop working for you who has panic attacks?”

“Shh.” He held his finger to his lips. “That’s top secret.”

“But you’re her boss.”

“That’s right. She’s a good cop. She told me about the attacks and it doesn’t need to go any further—not that I think you’ll go running to the Crestview City Council to report us.”

Leaning against him, she tilted her head the other way to survey his face. “That’s decent of you.”

“I have totally selfish reasons. Like I said, she’s a good cop and she makes the department and me look good.”

She licked her lips. Yeah, he probably likes the way that cop’s backside looks in uniform.

He kept his hand on her back and the package tucked under his other arm as he guided her toward the elevator. “I think we can skip the stairs this time.”

As the doors closed, she stepped away from his warmth and wedged her shoulder against the cold mirror inside the car. “This has been quite a day—full of shocks and surprises.”

She counted among those shocks and surprises her immediate attraction to Ryan Brody. The guy had it all in the looks department, including a killer bod, but she’d known that before their face-to-face meeting. She’d seen pictures of him and had even had her P.I. do a little surveillance on him in Crestview.

Brandy, the female P.I. she used, had gone a little overboard with some of the private pictures she’d gotten of Ryan with her long lens.

When Kacie had shuffled through the photos, including quite a few shirtless ones and even a grainy picture of Ryan coming out of his shower, she’d accused Brandy of forming an obsession over her subject.

Brandy, a lesbian in a committed relationship, had just winked.

Kacie’s physical attraction to Ryan made up only part of the equation. The guy had rescued her from a scorching sauna. What girl wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by that?

And then there was the way he had looked at her.

She glanced down at the body that for years had compelled her to sip diet sodas and munch raw veggies, while her two sisters and her mom could seemingly eat whatever they wanted and still maintain their svelte figures.

Ryan had eyed her as if he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and throw her down on the nearest bed or bend her over the nearest kitchen counter or take her against the wall—any wall.

She pressed her cheek against the cool glass of the mirrored elevator.

“Are you going to faint? Because I can carry you back to your room—piece of cake.” He snapped his fingers.

The elevator doors whisked open and she stepped into the hallway, looking over her shoulder. “I’ll save you the strain on your back.”

His eyebrows jumped to his hairline and he cocked his head. “You’re as light as a feather.”

Great. How many weaknesses and insecurities could she reveal to him in the course of one night?

She invited him into her room and immediately abandoned the idea of the glass of wine. After the accusations against, and subsequent suicide of, his father, Ryan’s mother had turned to drugs and alcohol. Kacie didn’t want Ryan thinking she was a lush on top of all the other flaws she’d put on display that night.

Crouching in front of the little fridge, she asked, “Water? Something else?”

“If you’re still having that wine, I’ll have a beer—and I’ll pay you back.”

“I decided against the wine. Do you still want the beer? It’s on the house.”

“I still want the beer, and I’ll still pay you for it.”

She wrapped her fingers around a chilled bottle and held it up. “Is this okay?”

“That’ll do.” He reached over and took it from her and then twisted off the cap. “Now, tell me about that doll.”

She snapped the lid on a diet soda and perched on the edge of the bed. “Like I told you before, the little Walker girl had the same doll. A strand of Walker’s hair was found on the doll, and it was stuck on top of the blood smears. Walker’s defense team and the prosecution went back and forth on this point. Walker’s attorneys claimed that it wouldn’t be unusual for a piece of their client’s hair to be on his daughter’s doll, and the prosecution argued that it got there during the murder.”

“It was a significant piece of evidence.”

“Yes.”

“So, who sent you the doll and why?”

She pleated the bedspread with her fingers. “I think Walker sent it to me as a warning.”

As Ryan sat next to her on the bed, she proceeded to tell him about her meeting with the ex-con and Walker’s threats against her.

When she finished, he whistled between his teeth. “You’re telling me earlier tonight you met with some ex-con who said he had info that Walker was after you?”

“Yep.” She took a long pull from her can of soda, the bubbles tickling her nose.

“Damn, you live dangerously, woman.”

“That’s what I do. Do you think it was any picnic going to interview Walker at Walla Walla on visiting day?”

His gaze left her face and made a detour to her body before returning. “Umm, no. No picnic at all—for you.”

It was a good thing her temperature was still slightly elevated because her cheeks warmed again at his taking inventory of her. She pursed her lips. Did he think she’d sashayed into the prison visiting room in a bikini?

“Did you catch this parolee’s name?”

“No, but his initials are DB. That’s how he signed his texts, anyway.” She formed her fingers into a gun and pointed it at him. “That reminds me. He said he was in for murdering his sister. I was going to try to look him up.”

“I can help you with that.” He pushed off the bed and sauntered over to her laptop on the desk. “I can search for him on the law-enforcement database.”

“That would be awesome. I was just going to try to search for fratricides in Washington that occurred about twenty years ago.” She flipped up her laptop and turned it toward him.

“Why twenty years ago?”

“From what I could tell, the guy didn’t look any older than fifty, so I figured maybe he served twenty or twenty-five years before his parole.”

Ryan entered a website address and typed in a username and password at the log-in screen. “System’s down. We’ll check again tomorrow. I think you need to get to bed anyway.”

Alone. Get to bed alone.

“I’m much better, thanks, but I’d appreciate it if you could stash that doll in your room.” She drew up next to him, bumping his shoulder, and logged off the computer.

“No problem. I’ll stuff her in my closet just so no one thinks I’m sleeping with dolls.”

She jerked her head up and searched his face for a sign of the double entendre, but his clear green eyes, crinkling at the corners, showed only humor. All this talk of beds and sleeping had fired up her imagination again.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want that getting around your department.” She backed away from him and swept his beer from the credenza. “Do you want to take this with you?”

“No, you can toss it.” He grabbed the package with the doll wrapped inside and tucked it under his arm. “Do you want me to send this to the lab at the SFPD? Even though my brother’s still on leave, I have connections there.”

“I’ll think about it, thanks.”

He saluted and grasped the handle of the door, pulling it open. “Good night. We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, and now we have an advantage because we’ve already met. We can get right down to business.”

“Yeah...business.”

He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed, and Kacie let out a long breath.

That man had a way of making her feel like a siren or a femme fatale.

She fell across the bed, dangling her legs off the side. It didn’t matter how Ryan Brody made her feel. She still had a job to do, and that meant proving his father’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

* * *

KACIE PICKED UP the receiver of the ringing phone once and dropped it back in its cradle, further burrowing into the pillows. She could sleep another few hours, but she’d been looking forward to this day for a few years. Never mind that Ryan had sort of spoiled the occasion by being even better looking in person than in his pictures and by saving her life and then saving her sanity by taking that doll away. Never mind all that.

It was game time.

An hour later she put the finishing touches on her makeup, dabbing the excess shine from her lips. She’d dressed in one of her prison outfits—a slim skirt that hit below the knee with a matching jacket—demure, plain, nothing to draw the unwelcome attention of the convicts at Walla Walla or Ryan Brody. He’d already seen her in next to nothing, but that was the night before. This was a whole new day.

She slipped her feet into a pair of low-heeled shoes and hitched her laptop case over one shoulder and her purse over the other. She even had the restaurant picked out for lunch, unless Ryan wanted to go somewhere else. She’d let him choose.

She always let them think they had the upper hand. It had worked with Daniel Walker up until the moment her book came out and he’d realized he’d been duped.

And apparently her trickery still burned a hole in his gut.

She made it to the hotel lobby fifteen minutes early and perched on the edge of the same love seat where she’d unwrapped that doll the night before.

She hunched her shoulders against the chill rippling up her back. What kind of man would send the same kind of doll his daughter had been hugging the moment he ended her life, as a warning? A sick one. But then, she’d only come to realize that about Walker later.

Like many others, she’d been swayed by Walker’s good-looking, grief-stricken face...until she met the man.

She glanced up when the elevators across the lobby dinged open. Ryan strode through the doors and his head jerked in her direction like a heat-seeking missile.

She’d been waiting just five minutes, so he liked being early to meetings, too.

She still had the advantage of watching him approach. If everything that had happened the night before hadn’t transpired, what would her first impressions of this man be?

Tall, good-looking, built, confident, maybe a little cocky. She sucked in her lower lip. This wasn’t working. She couldn’t forget the night before—his concern, his consideration, his blatant attraction to her.

“You’re early.” He offered a handshake. “I’m Ryan Brody, Ms. Manning. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She gripped his hand. “Are you trying to press the reset button? It won’t work. I just tried it.”

He squeezed her hand and wouldn’t let go, as a smile spread across his face. “You’re right. It doesn’t work. I already know way too much about you.”

At least he had the decency to keep his eyes on her face this time, but it didn’t matter. Parts of her body tingled that didn’t have any business tingling under her proper skirt and blouse.

He finally dropped her hand, and she smoothed her palms across the front of her linen skirt. “I don’t know nearly enough about you, so I propose we get started. I made a reservation at Mezza Luna in North Beach, unless you have a preference for something else.”

He spread his arms, and the cotton of his T-shirt tightened across his chest. “I’m a little underdressed. I thought since we were old friends, we’d be going more casual.”

“You look fine.” And fine had a whole other meaning for the way his jeans hugged his muscular thighs and tight backside.

“I can run up and throw on a sports coat, even though the summer weather is finally starting to peek through the fog.”

“Mezza Luna isn’t that formal, but it’s a good place to conduct business. I like to feel like I’m dressing for work because this is my job.”

“If you’re sure they won’t kick me out.”

“I’m sure.” She pointed to the front doors of the hotel. “I called ahead for a taxi. It should be here in about five minutes.”

“I’m impressed you’re so organized after the night you had.”

She crossed her arms across her waist. “Speaking of which, where’s the doll?”

“Stashed in the closet. Are you sure you don’t want me to send it to the SFPD lab for analysis?”

“It’s not against the law to send someone a doll, is it?”

“No, but if we can link it to Walker...”

“Oh, I know it’s Walker. The ex-con told me Walker wanted to make my life a living hell, and the doll is his first shot.”

“He’s not going to have a second.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the taxi, which had just pulled up.

Somehow she believed it when he said it.

He opened the door of the taxi for her and she slid across the seat, giving the restaurant’s address to the driver.

It didn’t take him long to get there, speeding through the streets, dodging cable cars and buses and maneuvering around pedestrians. The taxi squealed to a stop in front of the restaurant, and Kacie insisted on paying.

“Tax write-off for me.”

Ryan took a detour to the men’s room, leaving Kacie to confront the unfriendly hostess, who acted as if she were guarding the gates of Fort Knox.

Kacie dug in her heels. “Our reservation is for 12:45, and I requested a specific table. I don’t think I should have to wait for that table.”

The hostess pursed her lips and tapped her pencil on her reservation book. “We have a very important person coming later, and he always likes that table.”

“Is there a problem with our reservation?” Ryan raised his brows at the hostess, his mouth turning up at one corner.

The hostess brightened up, flashing a set of white teeth and pulling back her angular shoulders. “Not at all, sir. I’ll seat you immediately.”

Her slim hips swaying in front of them, she led them to their table.

If Ryan thought that woman had any intention of kicking him out of the restaurant for dressing too casually, he hadn’t checked his reflection in the mirror.

Kacie pulled out her chair before Ryan could do it for her. He must have that effect on all women, not just her. She’d been silly to think his attention to her was anything more than his customary way of relating to women. Women loved him and he loved them back.

Good. She tugged on the lapels of her jacket. That made her job a lot easier.

Made lunch a lot easier, too. The hostess ensured that they had warm bread and cold water on their table in record time.

Kacie flicked open the menu, while munching on a piece of that bread drenched in olive oil.

“I’ve never been here before. Have you?” Ryan ran his finger down the sheet of daily specials.

“Once or twice. Everything’s good.”

“I think I’ll go with the fettuccine with clam sauce.”

“Excellent choice.” She dabbed her fingers on the napkin in her lap. “Do you want to get down to business?”

“Sure, but can we finish last night’s business first?”

Last night’s business when she’d been ready to turn down her sheets for him at the crook of his little finger?

“We had unfinished business?”

“The security guard. Did he ever get back to you? Did he ever talk to those teenage boys?”

“I didn’t hear from him, and there was a different clerk at the front desk this afternoon.”

A waiter approached their table and took their order. When he left, Kacie pulled out her mini-recorder.

“I hope you don’t mind if I tape our interview.”

“Nope.” He dug into the bread basket and dropped a piece on his plate. “You must have some fascinating recordings of Dan Walker.”

“I do. A lot of times, it wasn’t until I listened to the recording that I got to understand the man, as much as you can understand a sociopath. He’s very distracting to talk to—he’s such a good actor.”

“And I’m not.” He spread his arms. “What you see is what you get.”

A total hunk with a protective streak a mile wide and a smile that could melt the insides of the snootiest, skinniest restaurant hostess in North Beach.

Kacie cleared her throat and set up her recording device. “That’s good to know.”

As she placed her finger on the record button, Ryan put his hand over hers like a caress. “Can I ask you a question before we get started?”

When he touched her like that, he could ask her anything. She flicked his hand off hers and pressed Record. “Go ahead.”

He glanced down at the red light blinking on the recorder. “Why my father’s story? Why are you interested in writing a book about a twenty-year-old cold case?”

“Because it is a cold case. Your father, an SFPD homicide detective, was suspected of being the Phone Book Killer, a serial killer he was investigating himself, but nobody ever proved it.”

“A lot of people said he proved it when he jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge and the murders stopped.”

“Damning evidence, but there are so many more who believe he was set up, and now all four of the sons he left behind are in some type of law enforcement. It’s a great story.” She shrugged her shoulders, stiff from her lies.

“You can count my two older brothers among those who believe in our father’s innocence. They’ve recently stumbled across some new evidence and have agreed to give it to me to pass along to you.”

Her water sloshed as she set down her glass. “Sean and Eric know I’m writing a book about the case?”

“Yeah. They’re okay with it. I told them your angle is that someone set up Joseph Brody.”

They wouldn’t be okay with it if they knew her true purpose...and her true identity.

“Great.” A smile stretched her lips. “And I’d love to see that new evidence. What do you remember about that time?”

“Not much. I was young and confused, and then I lost my dad, who was a larger-than-life figure for me.” His green eyes darkened as he took a sip of water. “Do you still have both of your parents?”

“Y-yes.”

He splayed his hands on the white tablecloth in front of him. “It’s hard to explain the loss of a parent, especially at a young age. You can’t begin to understand the hole it leaves.”

Oh, but she could.

“You’re right.”

“And then I lost my mom.” He studied his fingernails. “She turned to prescription drugs and alcohol, and Sean had to take over the parenting duties.”

“Your mom passed away.” She knew the whole painful Brody story.

“Not until I was an adult, but it was still tough. So many wasted years.”

Their food arrived, and Kacie turned off the recorder. Ryan’s soulful eyes and sensitive mouth were going to make this a lot harder than she’d anticipated.

The smell of garlic and fresh clams wafted from Ryan’s plate, putting her chopped salad to shame. She dug into her rabbit food as he twirled his fork into his creamy pasta.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before he pointed his fork at her salad. “Is that all you’re having?”

“It’s a big salad.”

“It’s a salad.” He held his fork out to her, tightly wrapped in fettuccine, the savory steam curling beneath her nose. “Try some of this.”

She tapped her plate. “Put it here.”

“Then you’ll have to twirl it up again. Here.” He hunched forward, the fork centimeters from her lips.

She opened her mouth and he placed the fork against her tongue. She sealed her lips around the tines and sucked the pasta into her mouth as he drew the fork out with a flourish.

Tingles raced up her inner thighs and circled her belly. She grabbed her napkin and pressed it against the lower half of her face while she chewed. This craziness had to stop.

“Good, huh?” He grinned, but his heavily lidded eyes looked more seductive than smiley.

“Very good.” She dropped the napkin from her still-warm face. “Now I will return to my regularly scheduled salad.”

“Just let me know if you want another...taste.”

She waved down the waiter. “More iced tea, please.”

She had to find some way to stay cool. Did all this sex appeal come naturally to Ryan Brody, or was he cranking up the charm for some ulterior motive? She’d already told him she planned to focus the book on proving his father’s innocence. He didn’t have to butter her up.

Her gaze dropped to his strong hands as he ripped a roll in two and smeared a pat of butter across one half. Although she wouldn’t mind if he buttered her up, down and sideways.

She’d never felt this way about a story resource before.

Holding up the roll, he asked, “Do you want the other half?”

“No, thanks.” She pushed her plate away, dabbed water droplets from the tablecloth with her napkin and repositioned her recorder on the table.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He polished off the rest of his meal, including the rest of her roll, and then perused the dessert menu. “Do you want to share a dessert?”

“I’m good.”

He ordered a coffee instead and leaned back in his chair as he stirred in a swirl of cream. “Fire away. Ask me anything you want about my father’s case. If I don’t know the answer, I’ll ask my older brothers.”

Kacie flipped open her notebook, which contained sheets of printed-out questions. She dived in.

“The Phone Book Killer case was unusual from the get-go, wasn’t it? After the first two victims, the killer started communicating with your father, one of the detectives on the case, claiming he was selecting his victims out of the phone book.”

“That’s right. Serial killers have been known to contact the police to brag and taunt, and the Phone Book Killer singled out my dad. Of course, that’s one of the aspects of the case that caused some doubt about my father. Why him?”

“Good question.” She drummed her fingers against the tablecloth. “Then he kidnapped your brother. Was that some kind of warning?”

“According to Sean, that’s what my father thought. It was the killer’s message that he could get to any member of my family.”

“But your brother wasn’t harmed, which became another oddity of the case.”

Ryan raised his shoulders and let them drop. “People say Joey Brody staged the kidnapping to divert suspicion from himself.”

“Then the evidence from your father started to pile up—missing days from work, plaster found in the trunk of his car, the same type of plaster used in casts, which the Phone Book Killer was wearing to disarm his victims.”

“Too pat. Too easy.” He massaged the back of his neck. “In hindsight, it smells like a setup.”

As she reeled off the elements of the case against Joey Brody, Ryan had an answer for every one of them. He had emphasized that his older brothers believed without a doubt in their father’s innocence, and Ryan’s hot defense of Joey Brody put him firmly in that camp.

Of course they were all in that camp. Admitting your father had blood on his hands had to be hard.

After another hour of question and answer, where they saw the restaurant clear out and received several visits from their waiter with more coffee and iced tea in hand, Kacie clicked off the recorder.

“I really appreciate your openness. It can’t be easy. Y-your dad sounds like he was a great cop.”

And Daniel Walker had been a great football player.

He shrugged. “Life is full of trials and tribulations. How about you? You look like you’ve had it pretty easy—smart, attractive, successful.”

Straightening her shoulders, she folded her hands on top of the notebook. “I’ve been lucky. I have a wonderful family. Great parents, two older sisters.”

“I hope you appreciate that.”

Anxious to hide the emotion that had overcome her, she swiped her recorder from the table and ducked down to stuff it into her bag. “Oh, I do, but you’re right.” She popped back up with her phone and wallet in hand. “We all have our...disappointments in life.”

A loud voice carried across the mostly empty restaurant. “Kacie Manning, right?”

She jerked her head up and zeroed in on a pudgy man with a black goatee making his way toward their table. “Do I know you?”

He stuck out his hand. “I’m Ray Lopez. I’m a reporter with a local TV show.”

Great. That’s all I need.

“Good to meet you, Ray.” She gestured toward Ryan. “This is Ryan Brody. Chief Brody.”

“Oh, hey. No introductions necessary. I know who Chief Brody is. I’m like this—” he held up two fingers pressed together “—with Sean and Eric. Eric’s fiancée, Christina, and I go way back.”

Ryan shook Lopez’s hand, sizing him up with one glance. “Sure, I know who you are.”

Kacie’s gaze bounced from Lopez to Ryan. Sounded as if Ryan wished he didn’t know Lopez.

“I’m a big fan of yours, Kacie. Is it true you’re doing a book on Joey Brody?”

“You know, I’d rather not discuss that.” She swirled the ice in her water glass and took a sip.

“Say no more.” Lopez raised his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to get exclusives for years with the Brodys. Guess I’m the wrong sex or something.”

Ryan tossed his napkin onto the table. “Excuse me?”

“Just a little joke, Brody. I’d rather work with Kacie Manning than with me, too.” He winked and sauntered back to the hostess stand.

“What a jerk.” Kacie rolled her eyes.

“He’s been kind of a local fixture here the past few years.”

“Does he really know your brothers?”

“Yeah, but Sean just tolerates him and Eric can’t stand him.” Ryan made a move for the check, which had been perched on the edge of their table for an hour. “Let me get this.”

She beat him to it, snatching it up and pressing it to her chest. “Tax write-off, remember?”

As she snapped her plastic down on the tray, Ryan tapped her phone on the table. “You have a couple of messages.”

“I heard them come through earlier.” She picked up the phone. “Didn’t want to disturb our flow.”

“Yeah, we do have a flow, don’t we?”

The hostess with the mostest had extricated herself from Lopez, who’d since left the restaurant. She parked herself next to Ryan’s chair, batting her fake eyelashes. “Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

“No, thanks. Sorry we took up this table all afternoon.”

“No problem.” She waved her perfectly manicured nails. “I could see you were hard at work over here. If you like to play as hard as you work, a friend of mine is having a party tonight at a private club. I could get you in as my...guest.”

Kacie clenched her teeth as she tapped her phone to view her messages. He could do whatever he wanted while he was here, including partying with pretty people, as long as he made himself available to her for their interviews and a few field trips.

But she didn’t even hear his response as she read over her second message. The blood drained from her face and her head felt like a balloon ready to float away.

“Kacie?”

She glanced up from the display to meet Ryan’s eyes, wide and questioning.

“Are you okay?”

The hostess backed up from the table. “I’ll let you two finish your business.”

Kacie dragged in a breath and released it through dry lips. “It’s my contact from last night. He wants to meet again tonight.”

“The ex-con?” He snapped his fingers for the phone. “No way.”

She raised her brows. When had she appointed him her master scheduler? She handed him the phone anyway, realizing she’d have a hard time saying no to this man.

He peered at the display and read it aloud. “‘Meet me same place as last night, same time. More info. DB.’”

He handed the phone back to her. “You recognize that number?”

“It’s the same one he used before and the same initials.” She pressed her damp palms against her napkin, still crumpled in her lap. “Maybe he knows about that doll. Maybe he saw who gave it to the homeless guy.”

“Maybe you should ignore him.”

“I can’t. He’s warning me about Walker.”

“Or he’s doing Walker’s bidding. You ever think of that?”

“Yes. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh, I know that, but you’re not thinking clearly right now. You are not going to traipse down to the wharf alone at eleven o’clock at night.”

“I have to go. He might have important information about Walker’s next move against me, maybe something I can give to the police this time.”

Ryan held up his hands. “You weren’t listening. I said you weren’t going there alone.”

A little thrill raced down her back. She couldn’t help it. “He’ll never talk if he sees you there.”

“Who said he’s going to see me?”

She waved her hand to indicate his imposing form. “Little hard for someone like you to blend in.”

“I have my ways.”

She added a tip to the bill and scribbled her signature. As she tucked the receipt in the side pocket of her purse, she said, “As long as you stay out of sight. I don’t want you spoiling my meeting.”

“How about saving your life?” He pushed back from the table and stepped around it to pull her chair out for her. “Is that okay with you?”

She nodded as silly schoolgirl butterflies took flight in her belly.

This was exactly the effect Daniel Walker wanted to have on her—wrap her around his little finger, tell her sweet little lies.

What could Ryan Brody’s motive possibly be? To make sure she wrote a favorable book about his father? She’d already told him she planned to do so. Did he doubt her?

She’d have to watch herself with this man, in more ways than one. Because she couldn’t let a sexy grin and a pair of strong arms deter her from exacting her revenge on his father.

Her mom deserved justice.

Chapter Four

Ryan slung the towel over his shoulder, his gaze riveted on the pool area where three teenagers roughhoused in the water. They had to be the same ones from the night before.

He pushed through the glass door separating the weight room and the swimming area, and the humidity of the pool deck seeped into his flesh. The soles of his running shoes squished the wet tiles as he crossed to the edge of the pool. He squatted beside it and called out, “Hey.”

Three faces turned toward him, a sullen look already forming around the mouth of one of them.

He was the one who answered. “Yeah?”

“Were you guys in here last night? In the hot tub?”

The three of them exchanged quick glances, and another teen spoke up, an earnest look on his face. “Yes, sir. We were in the hot tub late last night.”

“Did you happen to see a woman out here?”

“Yeah, she went into the pool.”

“She was smokin’ hot for a cougar.” The first boy to have spoken up stuck his tongue out of his mouth and flicked it up and down.

Ryan’s hands, resting on his knees, curled into fists.

“Shut up, man.” The Boy Scout punched his friend in the shoulder, then turned his attention back to Ryan. “Why are you asking? Did something happen?”

Flexing his fingers, Ryan dropped one knee to the deck. “Someone played a trick on her in the sauna.”

The sullen one lost the attitude and the smirk and said, “She was still in the pool when we left.”

The other two teens nodded in agreement. “She was swimming laps when we bolted.”

“Did you see anyone else out here? In the gym?” Ryan pushed to his feet.

“No, sir.”

“All right. Thanks.” Ryan exited the pool area, mopping his face with the towel.

He believed them. According to the security guard, those boys were probably messing around in the business center at the time Kacie was in the sauna. Besides, would they play a trick like that on a smokin’-hot cougar?

They got half of that right. Kacie was smokin’ hot, but she was no cougar—at least not for him.

He filled up his water bottle from the gym’s dispenser and then tossed his towel in the bin. She’d shot him down when he asked her to join him for dinner that night, but they planned to get together before her meeting with DB to give him another crack at finding the guy in the law-enforcement database.

As far as he could tell, Kacie had spent the afternoon holed up in her hotel room—working, she said. He smacked the elevator button with the flat of his palm. That woman ran hot, very hot, and cold.

Women. He sure loved ’em, but he couldn’t even pretend to understand ’em.

He’d spent his afternoon dropping that doll off at the local precinct, touching base with his brother’s fellow officers and then tracking down his younger brother.

He knew Judd was going to be out of town again, but he’d managed to catch him for about an hour before he headed to the airport, this time to work for the Saudi royal family. His P.I. brother had been getting higher-end gigs lately, a step up from spying on errant spouses.

Ryan shook his head as he slipped his key card into his door. He’d barely recognized Judd with his suit sleeves covering his tattooed arms, his long hair slicked back.

Once again, Judd had offered up his apartment to Ryan, but Ryan had passed. Judd was careless with his business and his women. Ryan didn’t want any surprises in the form of irate females dropping in—either ones Judd had spied on for their husbands or ones he’d loved and left.

That was the excuse he had given Judd, anyway. If he took his brother up on his offer, he’d have to check out of this hotel. And Kacie Manning was in this hotel, one floor below him. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He showered, changed and ate a burger at the restaurant in the lobby. Then he showed up at Kacie’s door, five minutes early.

She’d stacked the remnants of her own room-service meal on the credenza. Papers and notebooks littered the desk around her laptop. She’d swapped her business attire for a pair of black jeans and a dark green top that accented the copper highlights in her hair and an expanse of soft, creamy skin above the neckline.

Wedging her fist on one curvy hip, she tapped the toes of her bare foot. “You’re early—again.”

“Am I?” Had he betrayed his eagerness to see her?

“I was just going to clean up.” She flicked her fingers toward the abandoned dishes.

“Let me.” He hoisted the tray and carried it toward the door.

She scooted around him to pull the door open and then leaned against it while he pushed the tray against the wall in the hallway.

He rose, dusting his hands together. “I ran into those teenagers at the pool today.”

“Really?” She let the door slam. “Did they fess up to anything?”

“Just that they thought you were smokin’ hot.” He would leave out the cougar part.

Color rushed into her cheeks, and she snorted. “Must’ve been all that steam from the hot tub obscuring their vision. So, they didn’t see anyone else out there?”

“No.” He tilted his head and hitched his thumbs in his pockets. Was she fishing for a compliment or did she really not understand the impact of that body on a red-blooded American male?

She ducked her head and fussed with the laptop, her hair creating a veil over her face.

Nope. She didn’t get it. Self-confident about everything except her looks. He knew the type.

“I couldn’t get back to that system you were using.”

“I’ll find it.” He sidled next to her at the desk by the window and brushed her arm with his fingers as he reached for the keyboard.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with her, he felt her body quiver. Must be the excitement of discovering the identity of her contact. Couldn’t have been because of their close proximity, since she’d been shoving him away from her with both hands ever since he’d carried her bikini-clad body from the sauna.

He pointed to her screen background, a middle-aged couple with a spaniel between them. “Your parents?”

“And their faithful dog. They’ve had him for fifteen years.”

He studied the pair, a sleek blonde with straight chin-length hair and a balding man who looked fit for his age. Kacie must have taken after her dad because she didn’t resemble her mom at all.

He entered a URL and typed in his username, password and number from his token. The system whirred to life and he let out a breath. “It’s up.”

Kacie stepped away from him and planted a chair between them. “Have a seat. I’ll give you what I know.”

He settled on the edge of the chair, his hands hovering above the computer as he waited for it to connect. When the search bar appeared, he turned his head to look at her. “Date of incarceration?”

“Can you enter a range of dates?” She leaned over him and her fragrant hair tickled his cheek.

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Maybe twenty or twenty-five years ago.”

He typed in the date range. “Location?”

“Let’s go with Washington State.” She jabbed her finger at the display, and the side of her breast skimmed his upper arm. She pulled back.

He got rock hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. “Washington. Crime?”

“Murder.”

He entered the man’s heinous crime, but even that couldn’t tame the heat surging through his body. He’d need a cold shower for that.

“I can’t exactly enter his initials, but I can enter B followed by an asterisk and that should give us everyone with a last name starting with that letter—unless he’s lying to you.”

“An ex-con lying? Say it ain’t so.” She knelt down beside his chair.

“Then this is it.” He entered the initials in the name fields and clicked the search button.

A little hourglass blinked in the center of the display.

“Uh-oh. This could take a while.”

“We have time.” She rose from her seated position and tapped at the clock in the lower right corner of the screen. Then she settled back on the floor. “Did you have a good afternoon?”

Leaning back in the chair, he stretched his legs out to the side. “I took that doll to the SFPD.”

“You didn’t have to do that. There’s no crime.”

“Doesn’t matter. They know me there from my brother Sean, and besides, it’s professional courtesy.”

“Did you give them any details?”

“They didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell.”

“Well, thank you.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Did you get a chance to visit some old haunts in the city?”

“I dropped in on my brother.”

“I thought he was on extended leave.”

“My other brother—Judd.”

“He’s the youngest, right?”

“Youngest and wildest.”

“He’s a P.I.”

That wasn’t really a question. She seemed to know his family history as well as he did. “Yep.”

“Why didn’t you just stay with him?”

“He was on his way out of town, too. He’s been doing some bodyguarding, and this time I think he’s guarding a suitcase full of jewels instead of a person.” Ryan’s gaze dropped to the top of her head. Besides, all the excitement he needed was right here at this hotel in Fisherman’s Wharf.

“Wow, I bet he has some stories to tell.”

“If he does, he keeps them to himself.” He jiggled the mouse to wake up the display. “Just last month he was working as a bodyguard for some pop princess on tour in Hawaii.”

She snapped her fingers. “Oh, oh, I know who that is, but her name escapes me now. Aren’t you just a little bit envious?”

Right now, working with Kacie and enjoying the way her quick mind picked up on his next thought and their easy back-and-forth banter, he didn’t envy anyone. “Naw. That’s Judd’s thing. He’s kind of rootless. I like my small town.”

“Of course, you did have an opportunity tonight to party with that attractive hostess.” She threw up her hands. “Don’t let me get in your way of a good time. If you want to check it out after we meet my informant tonight, go for it.”

He drew in his eyebrows. Was she trying to push him into that hostess’s arms? “Ah, not interested.”

“Not a party kind of guy?”

He would prefer a party of two in that king-size bed across the room. Leveling a gaze at her, he said in almost an undertone, “I like certain kinds of parties.”

She jumped to her feet and brushed off the seat of her snug jeans as she wandered to the window.

His voice must’ve betrayed his meaning, and it sure did fluster her. Either she wanted nothing to do with him, or he was growing on her.

“If you change your mind, I’m sure she’d welcome you with open arms.”

The beep of the computer saved him from trying to analyze her obsession with sending him away with some other woman.

He hunched forward and scrolled through the entries. “There are quite a few here, but it won’t be an impossible task to comb through them.”

“Too bad we can’t split them up.”

“We can’t.” He rose from his chair and dragged the other one next to his and patted the seat. “So you might as well sit down next to me.”

She moved the chair a few inches away from his and sat on one corner, ready to take flight if necessary. “Okay, what do you do, just click on the entry?”

“That’s it.”

They spent the next fifteen minutes selecting the cons, and Kacie’s shoulders began to get sore from holding them stiffly so she wouldn’t accidentally brush against Ryan again.

When she’d accidentally mushed her breast against his biceps, she had nearly melted into a puddle. Of course, her chest had done a bunch of mushing against his when he’d carried her out of the sauna, and she’d been wearing a lot less then, but she’d been half out of it and hadn’t yet formed this powerful attraction to him.

She rubbed the back of her neck as Ryan clicked on another possible suspect.

He swung his head toward her. “Are you tired?”

“My neck and shoulders are tight. I already put in a few hours of computer time this afternoon.”

“Why don’t you go stretch out on the bed? If anything looks promising, I’ll call you over.”

Her gaze darted to the bed and back to the computer. What would be worse, lying on a bed in the same room as Ryan or continuing to sit inches away from his hard body, inhaling his fresh, masculine scent?

She pushed back from the desk so fast her chair tipped back.

“Whoa.” Ryan caught it and righted it.

She scurried to the bed, dragged the pillows from beneath the bedspread and punched them into position. Then she hopped onto the bed, her head sinking against the pile of pillows.

“Let me know if you find anything, and help yourself to the mini-bar.”

He hunched over the laptop and continued tapping and clicking.

Good move. Her head began clearing once she was out of the Ryan realm. Without all his manliness parked next to her and invading her senses, her muscles relaxed and her breathing deepened. The sounds from the computer became hypnotic and she closed her eyes.

Rough fingertips dabbled against her cheek and she burrowed into the pillows, a smile curving her lips.

“Kacie?”

“Mmm.” Warmth spread through her body and she felt safe, like the first time her foster parents brought her home.

She rolled to her side and flung out her arm. Her hand hit an immovable object, and she peeled open one eye.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Ryan smiled at her. “You dozed off.”

She opened her other eye, noticed her hand resting against his thigh and snatched it back. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her body, bringing her knees to her chest.