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10

Red lace garters have their appeal, but naked’s pretty much a showstopper.

—Lieutenant Jack Rivera,

while perusing Chrissy’s

Victoria’s Secret

I sucked in a gasp and yanked my attention back to Rivera. “It’s her.”

“What are you talking about?” He was still scanning the crowd, but I touched his arm and laughed, at which time he glanced down as if I’d lost my last viable marble.

“Don’t look,” I said, but he lifted his head, and in that moment I did the only possible thing I could do. I kissed him, openmouthed and no-holds-barred.

One thing I’ll say for L.A. cops, they can rise to the occasion. I felt it happen against my thigh, in fact. Felt his tongue slip into my mouth. Felt my libido amp up like an old rocker’s subwoofers.

My hand was still on his arm when I pulled away. His eyes were smoky. His voice the same.

“Where?” he asked.

I almost said “backseat,” but I caught myself just in time and remembered the moment at hand. “Kid in the baseball cap,” I said.

He pushed the hair from my neck, caressing my skin with his fingertips. I shivered. It was probably just part of the act. “And the iPod?” he asked.

“I don’t think it’s turned on. Are the turbans still watching us?”

He pulled his attention from me, but his fingers remained on my neck. “Yes.”

“Maybe you can delay them while I speak to Aalia,” I said. She had turned away and was already leaving.

He kissed me again. There was a good deal of tongue. “Sometimes the mayor gets kind of pissed when we harass foreigners with friends in high places.”

“I’m not asking you to shoot them.”

“My mistake,” he said, and slipped his hand down my bare arm.

It was all for show. I knew that. But someone had failed to inform my endocrine system. I was starting to drool a little. His hand skimmed the ribs just below my breasts.

“This isn’t illegal, is it?” he asked.

I was breathing hard. “I’m of age.”

The corner of his mouth hitched up in that way that made my own go dry. “I meant getting involved with this girl. She’s legal, right? All documents cleared and everything? I’m not going to get my ass thrown in jail, am I?”

I shook my head, though I wasn’t really sure why. “I have other plans for your ass.”

“Promise?”

“You bet your ass,” I said.

“Figuring out jurisdiction here is hell,” he said, and kissed the corner of my mouth. “I might as well have left my badge at home.”

Which was about as likely as leaving his dick in the kitchen drawer.

“Do you think you can just distract them for a while?” I asked.

“Hell, I might even be able to offend them.”

“You?”

“Never know until you try. Get Aalia to the car. I’ll catch up to you later,” he said, and gave me a sizzling grin, up close and sexy, before he turned away.

I managed a nod, but he was already sauntering toward the men in turbans, narrow-hipped, loose-limbed, and smoking hot. “What are you looking at?” he asked. His voice was just loud enough to hear from my position. The tone was abrasive, arrogant, and as irritating as a toothache.

Perfect.

The two straightened even more, immediately affronted and entirely forgetting about me.

“You fucking camel jockeys,” Rivera said. “Don’t you have women where you come from?”

I heard one of them mutter a response.

“Yeah?” Rivera said. “Well, that one’s mine, so back the hell off.”

I almost fainted before remembering it was all an act. At which time I corralled my humping hormones and turned casually in the direction Aalia had taken. In a moment I was out of sight and speed-walking down the corridor, but she was nowhere to be seen. I broke into a trot, rounded a corner, skipped between suitcases and surfboards and little girls with pigtails, then came to a halt … glancing right and left down the row of luggage carousels. Still nothing. But then I saw her, heading away. She was wearing blue jeans and a red sweatshirt now, but she’d kept the cap.

Damn, she was good, I thought. Rushing toward her, I caught her arm.

“Aalia,” I murmured.

The man who turned toward me wore a Fu Manchu beard and aviator glasses.