Chapter One
“Now that we’re out in the middle of nowhere, crouched outside a house I’ve never seen, you want to tell me why you dragged my ass here?” Detective Cameron Martinez glared over his right shoulder, through the inky mountain darkness, at bounty hunter R. A. Thorn.
“Julio Marco’s trial starts next week. No one can find the star witness.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Cam clenched his fists, hard-pressed to keep his voice to a furious whisper. “Without Curtis Lawton, the D.A. doesn’t have much of a case, Julio Marco will go free, and my ass will be in a sling.”
“Yeah? I’m Lawton’s bail bondsman, and he’s not checking in like he promised. If he fails to appear I’m out something close to fifty grand. That’s not chump change.”
True, but at least Thorn wouldn’t have to explain to the victims smuggled from Mexico and sold into slavery why Julio Marco, the man responsible for their torment, wasn’t going to prison for a very long time, as promised. Or why Curtis Lawton, the man who helped Marco, was nowhere to be found. That would fall on Cam’s shoulders.
“It wasn’t my idea to give the asshole the option of bailing out. Judge Nelson needs to have his head examined. And I advised you against posting Lawton’s bond, if you recall.”
Thorn shrugged. “I knew he was a flight risk. I had no doubt he’d do whatever necessary to avoid prison time and those unsavory pals of his who know he’s turned snitch. But I’ve hunted him before. That’s why we’re here. I found him in this cozy little bungalow last year, boffing out his girlfriend’s brains.”
“This her place?”
Thorn shook his head, the long ends of his golden hair brushing his wide, solid shoulders. “His. He moves girlfriends in to fuck them, and out once they’re history. I did a drive-by earlier today. He’s got a new hottie shacked up here. Pretty, young thing. Little, long brown hair, world-class ass. Lawton has crappy taste in occupations but good taste in women.”
Who cared what she looked like? “Can you please keep your dick out of a conversation for once?”
Thorn’s icy eyes mocked him through the darkness. “Sure, Saint Cam. As soon as the little woman makes her appearance, let’s see if you can keep your dick out of the conversation. I’m telling you, she’s fucking gorgeous.”
Right now, Cam cared about the fact that come next Monday, if Curtis Lawton didn’t live up to his plea deal and testify against Julio Marco, his former boss, two years of Cam’s work would be down the toilet. And a lot of young Mexican Nationals who endured utter hell on earth after being guaranteed a golden ticket to the promised land would be left without justice. It figured that Thorn couldn’t get his mind off sex for more than ten minutes strung together. Why should anything be different today?
“Whatever.” Cam felt free to roll his eyes in the dark. “What’s the plan?”
“We wait. As smokin’ as this woman is, good ol’ Curtis won’t stay away long. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
That went without saying. Thorn constantly thought with his penis. But he also never thought about the same woman more than a handful of times. Good thing for him he was a good-looking SOB who could melt a woman’s panties on looks alone. Thorn was long on bad-boy temper and short on sensitivity and charm.
“I don’t care if she’s Miss America,” Cam returned. “She’s being kept by a scumbag and making her living on her back by servicing a criminal. The idea of taking Lawton’s sloppy seconds doesn’t get me hot.”
“You’re too picky. It’s a miracle you ever get laid.”
“It’s a miracle you get laid,” Cam countered. “It’s so impersonal for you, it’s like a drive-through window, man. `Would you like just the screwing, or do you want the combo package? That comes with a nipple squeeze and a tongue fuck.’”
“No one’s had the need to ask me to supersize in order to get off.” Thorn bristled. “I haven’t heard complaints.”
“You don’t stay around long enough to know if there are any. I know you’re never going to tell me your full name, but do you make every woman you nail call you by your last name? Or is it like all your legal documents, Mr. R. A. Thorn?”
“Fuck you. They don’t need to know my full name to get off. And I’m not there for a relationship. It’s just sex.” He scowled. “Are we here to catch Lawton or hash out my personal life?”
Cam shook his head. As much as it pained him to admit it, Thorn was right. The man’s fast-food sex life was none of his business. It certainly wasn’t what he would have chosen, and he had suspicions that the big blond hulk was achingly lonely, but would never admit it. And Cam couldn’t make him.
“Let’s catch Lawton. Do we know anything about his girlfriend?”
“Other than her fine ass or the fact she has the kind of tits that make a grown man beg, no.”
Figured Thorn didn’t get a name. Half the time he didn’t bother when he took a woman to bed. Why learn the name of one he hadn’t even touched?
Before Cam could answer, the ground lights flipped on at the back of the bungalow, casting a muted golden glow over the trail to the pool. Then a willowy woman emerged, wearing a thin white robe belted around her small waist. She held a towel in one hand, a glass of wine in the other. Shutting the door behind her, she sashayed down the trail to the pool, closer to their hiding spot in the dusty bushes.
After setting her towel on the chaise and her wine on a nearby table, the woman checked to make sure her hair was still secured on top of her head by some clip Cam couldn’t see. Satisfied, she gazed up at the vast black desert sky and its many blinking stars, the majestic view unfettered by the city’s lights. She smiled faintly—then dropped her robe. She was completely naked.
Cam sucked in a breath.
“Holy shit,” Thorn muttered beside him, his voice suddenly sounding as if he’d been eating gravel. “I was hard just wondering what she had on under that thing. But now…”
He had been, too, Cam admitted silently. But seeing the real thing, her endless ivory skin, pert handfuls of breasts with wide nipples, the graceful curve of her hips… Holy shit seemed like an understatement. Despite the fact she was willingly sleeping with one of the worst dregs of society, Cam still felt a pull to her he could barely process. For once, he and Thorn agreed on something.
“Shh,” he said instead.
No need to admit that he wanted her too. If she was the kind of woman who’d let a creep like Lawton pay her bills in exchange for sex, she was the kind of woman who would fall for Thorn’s casual sex line. In other words, easy. Cam knew he’d still be trying to learn her name and something about her by the time Thorn was zipping up his pants and saying goodbye.
Thankfully, Thorn didn’t make more conversation. His gaze appeared permanently glued to the woman’s nipples, hard from a light teasing by the cool evening breeze, which was finally tolerable now that October was only days away.
Without hesitation, she swayed toward the pool and stepped into the water with a long, low sigh.
The ache in Cam’s groin tightened at the sound. Did she make little sounds like that when she was aroused?
Beside him, Thorn growled.
“Shh,” he reminded with a glare.
Thorn totally ignored him.
The beauty submerged until only her head remained above the surface. She kicked from one end of the pool to the other, moving with a slow grace, unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world to devote to this pleasure—or any other.
Unfortunately, Cam was all too aware that he didn’t have all the time in the world. The trial started in mere days.
“As enjoyable as this is,” he whispered to Thorn, “how is watching Miss America here get naked going to help us find Lawton?” r />
“Like I said, you don’t think he’ll stay away long from her, do you?”
No. Good point. In fact, he was no more than twenty feet away from her and pissed off that bushes and dark water obscured his view of her amazing body. He could only imagine how a man who’d touched every contour and sampled every inch would miss those graceful, supple curves.
With a long sigh, she swam to the edge of the pool and ascended the stairs, hips and sweet ass swinging as she made her way up, until she was completely exposed to the night air.
With quick efficiency, she patted herself down with the towel. Cam had never been so envious of terrycloth. Then she tossed back the rest of her wine in one quick swallow and lay on the chaise, face raised to the silvery moon.
Gorgeous. Like a goddess. All toned limbs and soft skin, with a graceful curve to her neck, an intriguing tilt of her head. She looked untouched. Untouchable.
Until she planted her feet on either side of the chaise, parting the firm length of her thighs, and smoothed a palm down her soft abdomen—and right between her legs.