Web of Lies (Page 47)

As they stood there talking, I crept away from the window and slipped off into the dark, rainy night.

I jogged back to the far end of the basin away from the mine office. I didn’t sprint full out, but I didn’t dawdle either. I kept my pace just quick enough so I’d still be able to hear the giants behind me when their friends arrived and they decided to investigate the area outside the office. But I didn’t worry about them finding anything. The drizzling rain would wash away any trace evidence the detective or I might have left behind, including our footprints.

I reached the back slope of the basin where we’d come down, rounded the rock outcropping – and found myself on the business end of Donovan Caine’s gun.

"Nice to see you too," I drawled.

Donovan let out a breath and lowered his weapon.

"Sorry. I heard footsteps."

"Don’t worry. That’s not the first gun I’ve had pointed at me." Probably wouldn’t be the last one, either, but I didn’t mention that to the detective.

Donovan holstered his weapon. Then he stepped out from behind the rock and looked toward the mine offices. By now, more lights burned there, like fireflies that had been grounded by the rain. Faint shouts drifted through the night air.

"Did you kill the guards?" Donovan Caine asked in a low voice.

"No."

Surprise and relief flashed in his golden eyes. "Why not?"

I shrugged. "Because a possible break-in is one thing. Dead guards are another. I don’t want Tobias Dawson to realize I’m coming for him. Not until it’s too late."

Donovan’s relief melted into stubborn consternation, and I half-expected him to start lecturing me about the sanctity of life. To tell me it was just plain wrong to go around planning someone’s assassination, even if it would save two innocent people in the end. Donovan stared at me like he wanted to do that very thing, give me the good lecture. Then another emotion crept into his golden gaze.

The detective almost looked… sad.

What did he have to be sad about? It wasn’t like I was going to kill him or even one of his friends. I didn’t understand Donovan’s sudden mood swing, and I didn’t care to stand out here in the dark to try to puzzle it out.

Not with Tobias Dawson’s men lurking around.

"Come on," I said. "Let’s get out of here before the guards head this way."

Chapter Twenty

Even using our rope and gloves, it took twice as long for Donovan and me to climb back up the ridge as it had taken to come down. The drizzle made everything slick, slimy, sloppy. By the time we crested the rim of the ridge, we were both wet to the bone and covered with mud, burrs, briars, dead leaves, and other woodsy debris. It took us several more minutes to reach Donovan’s sedan, which was just enough time for the warm exertion from climbing up the ridge to wear off. The rain had picked up and was now a downpour. Despite the Ice magic in my veins, I still shivered with cold. Besides our squish-squish footsteps, the only other sound was the plop-plop-plop of the rain coming down.

Donovan reached inside the sedan and turned on the interior lights so we could see what we were doing. Then he hit another button, which opened the trunk. "I’ve got some towels and spare clothes in the back."

I nodded. While the detective dug around in the trunk, I pulled out my cell phone and called Finn. He answered on the third ring.

"Yeah?"

"We’re clear of Dawson’s office," I said.

A slurping sound came through the phone. Finn drinking another cup of coffee. Sometimes I wondered why his brain didn’t explode from all the caffeine. "Find anything interesting?"

"I think so," I said. "We’ll talk about it when we get back. Might be awhile, because of the rain. The road we’re on isn’t exactly the best in the world."

"We’ve moved over to the house. We’ll be waiting for you there," Finn said.

We both hung up.

Donovan closed the trunk and came around the car to me. He opened the front passenger’s side door and tossed the dry clothes inside so they wouldn’t get wet while we changed. Then he handed me a thick towel. I lifted it to my face and breathed in. It smelled like the detective – clean and soapy. Mmm.

The detective grabbed another towel out of the pile of clothes. He used it to wipe off his face and soak up some of the water in his hair. I did the same with my towel, then opened the back door of the car and slung the towel over the seat. Mud caked my boots an inch thick in places, so I pulled them off and set them on the floorboard, along with my ruined socks. Cold mud squished between my toes, but I’d wipe them off with the towel later. Then I stripped off my fleece jacket and put it on top of my boots. My long-sleeved T-shirt came next. I sighed as I looked at the cotton. I’d bought the pink Tshirt covered with bright green limes when I went to Key West after Fletcher’s funeral. It was one of my favorites. I picked a couple of briars off the bottom of the tail, folded it, and put it on top of my jacket.

I was just about to unhook my bra when I realized the detective was staring at me. Donovan Caine’s eyes burned like liquid gold in his rugged face.

"What – what are you doing?" he asked in a hoarse voice "I thought I’d be nice and not get my wet, muddy shoes and clothes all over your car," I replied. "Is that a problem?"

Donovan didn’t answer me. He was too busy devouring me with his eyes. The rain ran down my mostly bare chest in cool, glistening drops. I’d only had my shirt off a few seconds, but the moisture had already soaked into my pale pink lace bra. The cold night air had long ago hardened my ni**les. But instead of covering myself up, my own eyes traced over Donovan. The detective had removed his suit jacket and starched shirt. All he wore from the waist up was a white, sleeveless undershirt. The rain had made it transparent too, and I could see the ropy muscles of his chest through the thin fabric. Mmm.

Despite the rain flicking against my skin, a low, steady warmth spread through my stomach. This was the closest I’d been to Donovan Caine in two months, and I decided to take advantage of the situation.

"See something you like, detective?" I said in a soft voice. "Because I sure do."

The detective raised his gaze to my face. Emotions flickered in his golden eyes, like lightning dancing across the sky during a thunderstorm. Guilt. Heat. Desire. But he didn’t move toward me. So I decided to up the stakes, so to speak.

I looked at him as I slowly unbuttoned my muddy jeans. It took me a few seconds to slide the stiff, heavy, wet fabric down my legs and over my feet. Not the most graceful striptease, but the golden sparks in Donovan’s eyes told me he appreciated the view. By the time I’d tossed my wet jeans into the front seat, the rain had turned my pink panties – also decorated with limes – as transparent as my bra.