A lot of those books she'd read had been on math and accounting. The numbers on the reports before her were too perfect. Every month revealed a steady increase. In the three years they'd been open they had never had a month where they showed less than a five percent increase over the month before.

Clicking through the pages to the end, she checked out the signature. Luther Isaacs. No surprise there.

She leaned against the back of the chair and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She was missing something. Something little that would fill in a major hole. Or she had it before her, but wasn't seeing it. The words and numbers on the screen blurred.

Snapping her fingers, she straightened and initiated a new search to see what other a.s.sets Dorado Inc listed. A minute later, a list popped up on screen. A warehouse, two yachts, some cargo vans and the jazz club.

"Why would a company based in the Dominican Republic own a jazz club in Florida?"

Ian kept working at whatever he was doing. "Diversification."

"Unless you count automobiles and a warehouse near the club, they aren't diversified. They claim no other holdings in the United States or the Dominican Republic."

He tilted his head and drummed his fingers on the counter. "What's the name of the company?"

"Dorado Inc."

"That's Spanish for gold. Use variations of gold for the name and do another search. You could also reverse the spelling and run another search."

"All right." She yawned so wide that her jaw popped. Not very original, but he hadn't led her wrong yet.

"When you have the run started, we'll go get some sleep."

"I can keep working."

"Kieralyn." He rolled his chair to her side and rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. "You're exhausted."

"I'm fine."

"You're yawning, your heart and breathing are slowing down and tension is knotting your shoulders." He brushed a kiss below her ear. "You need rest if you're going to have the stamina to see this through. A ma.s.sage wouldn't hurt."

A ma.s.sage. As if he would stop at a simple ma.s.sage. Her muscles spasmed and pulsed as if they'd heard the words and knew what they meant. Or maybe it was the idea of lying down and having Ian touch her again.

Chapter Seven.

Ian listened to Kieralyn's heart as she initiated the search. Her pa.s.sion and laughter swept over him like a balm, soothing the loneliness he hadn't recognized. A self-inflicted loneliness that he would not allow himself to return to when she went back to her life. For years he'd felt like a single salmon swimming upstream. Only he never gained any distance in work, relationships or his search for his father.

Kieralyn held herself back, didn't let him see the deepest parts of her spirit, but he would enjoy her while she was with him. Pressing a few controls, he flipped off the opera and keyed up the CD his sister, Jennifer, had recently made for him between baking wedding, birthday and graduation cakes. The music was a somewhat odd mix of songs by an Australian singer, Delta Goodrem, and a guy named Eli Mattson whom Jennifer had seen on a televised talent show. Both artists played the piano beautifully. There was a purity to their sounds that Ian enjoyed, but he rarely listened to the CD. Now he realized why.

The emotions in many of the songs too closely mirrored what he'd been feeling. They drove home the message that he was missing out on something great in life. h.e.l.l, they depressed him. Finally, he saw the songs the way Jennifer had meant them. As hope that he could have everything he'd always wanted.

"It's running," Kieralyn said just at the beginning of a song about being strong, a song about how it always seemed to be raining.

"Good." Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. He cupped the back of her head and eased her head to his chest. Swaying slowly from side to side, he maneuvered them into a simple dance.

Delta sang sensually about holding on to your spirit, about keeping it together when the light fades away and your darkest hour strikes. Life hadn't hit that point of desperation for him, but for the women currently held in captivity, the women they were working to rescue including Kieralyn's friend, it could very soon.

Kieralyn shook against him. She sniffled.

He reached up and thumbed a tear from her cheek. "We'll save them, Kieralyn."

"I hope you're right." She blew a breath out and nestled deeper into him. "We have no idea how they're being treated. I can't stand the thought of what they're going through."

"Then don't think about it." He slid his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face. She exhaled a warm breath that floated across his mouth. He swiped his tongue across his lips as he bent down and kissed her.

Her kiss was tender and filled with a depth of emotion she hadn't shown him before. Whether the emotion was for him, caused by the situation, or a buildup of stress from everything going on... He didn't care what the reasons were. Well, he preferred to think it was a reaction to him. A shared bond between them, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to get close to her again by dwelling on maybes and what ifs.

"Ian, take me to bed."

His breath caught. His heart raced. Moving in time to the music, he edged them toward his attached apartment and the bedroom.

"Gladly." Skating his hands over her top, he grabbed the hem of her exercise shirt, pulled it over her head, and dropped it on the floor. Free of the confines of the built-in bra, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swayed against him. He kissed a path down her throat and cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands.

Her hands moved over him, pulling his shirt over his head before sliding back down his chest and stomach to the waist of his jeans.

"You fit perfectly." Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his palms. Her body against his with her head tucked just beneath his chin when they danced.

He shifted his feet so he could toe off his shoes without stopping. "Step out of your shoes."

She gripped the waist of his jeans, her nails bit lightly into his skin. Holding on to him, she did as he asked. He focused on the sound of the shoes plopping to the floor so he could avoid tripping. With each step closer to his room, he eased her pants over her hips and down her legs until they fell to the floor for her to step free of.

He skimmed his hands along her shoulders, gently kneading the muscles in her neck and then walking his fingers along her spine. She arched against him, her naked skin rubbing against his. Her muscles quivered and eased. Hungry for her taste, he captured her mouth again. She opened for him with no hesitation.

Her fingers dipped deeper into the waist of his jeans. She worked open his fly. As she lowered the zipper, she rubbed against his erection. She bit into his lower lip. A low moan rumbled in her throat.

His skin hummed with the desire to have her under him again. In his bedroom, he walked her backwards until her knees b.u.mped the mattress. He lowered her to the bed and followed her down without taking his mouth from hers. The melodic music flowed into the room, echoed the sentiment of the moment.

He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Tonight, this moment, they could find pleasure in each other and rea.s.surance that everything in life wasn't ugly.

Tensing his muscles to keep from crushing her, he framed her face and skimmed his fingers down her neck and over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her nipples poked his palms as he worked his way to her waist. A moan vibrated his chest as he lifted his head and squatted between her knees.

He trailed his fingers over her hip bones and missed the erotic discovery of her garter belt. "It's a pity that you changed clothes at my place. I do love those garters."

"You don't-" Her voice broke, forcing her to try again. "You don't even know what color they were."

"Color doesn't matter."

"What does?"

He licked his lips and skated his palms down her legs, raising them until her feet pointed toward the ceiling. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on the back of her knee. "Taste, and you taste divine."

She gasped and bucked her hips off the mattress, jerking her legs. A wave of her musky arousal pulsed in the air. His d.i.c.k jumped. His b.a.l.l.s tightened.

"Smell. Your scent...warm and welcoming ...is delicious."

He closed his eyes and breathed through his mouth. Her scent and the remembered taste of her nectar exploded on his tongue. He swiped his tongue one last time across the back of her knee.

"Feel. The way silk glides against your skin and the way your skin slides against my fingers."

Gooseb.u.mps broke out across her skin. She trembled. He grinned and leaned toward her other leg. He lightly bit into the satiny flesh behind her knee, sc.r.a.ped his teeth over the p.r.i.c.kly skin. More p.r.i.c.kles popped up.

Blood pounded in his veins and head, drowning out sound. The driving desire to slam into her, into the hot center that he knew would be swollen and ready, snapped at his spine. Too soon she would solve her case and walk away from him. No way would he rush this.

He placed her knees on his shoulders and leaned toward her. The tip of his c.o.c.k nudged her s.e.x. She enticed him. Intrigued him. Propelled him toward insanity.

"Ian, I wish to h.e.l.l you'd hurry up."

He grinned. "Not happening."

Dipping his head, he nipped the underside of her breast. He pinched lightly at the inside of her thighs. She bucked. Her arms flailed in the air for a moment before her nails sc.r.a.ped across the comforter as she sought purchase. A feral pleasure flooded him.

Driving her as mad as he was beginning to feel was a temptation he couldn't resist. He'd figured out that his touch drove thoughts of his blindness from her mind. In these moments she thought of him as the man capable of bringing her body to life. Her responses brought his to life.

"Come on."

Nibbling a path across her chest to her other breast, he shook his head. "Need a condom."

"I'm on the pill." She wiggled against him. Her legs brushing the sides of his head, her s.e.x rubbing the length of his c.o.c.k.

"Meaning that you trust me." His brows arched. He again pinched lightly behind her thighs as he bit into the underside of her breast.

"Do I have a reason not to?"

"No." He swiped the pad of his tongue across her skin. Juvenile or not, he wanted to mark her. He pulled a patch of skin into his mouth and sucked. Her sweet flavor heightened as blood rushed to the surface.

She popped her hips off the bed, sliding onto him. He dug his fingers into her hips to stop her. Her inner muscles gripped him. He swallowed and shifted his grip. He lifted her a.s.s, impaling her on him.

Diving hilt-deep, sucking harder on her breast, he drove her higher.

She swelled, heated and pulsated against him.

He kissed the spot where he'd no doubt marked her. The skin puffed slightly and the taste buds on his tongue were sensitized. He struggled to clear his head.

"Come, Kieralyn." She groaned, low and long, and rolled her hips so she took him deeper. She shook. Sweat broke out at the base of his spine. "Let yourself go."

She trembled. Her hands yanked at the covers before seeking out his. He released her hips and linked their fingers.

He eased up her body. She raised her head and met his mouth. She slid her tongue along the inside of his top lip before diving between his teeth. Their mouths battled. His brain tingled.

She tightened around him. "You let go."

What choice did he have? The woman had driven him mad. He pulled away and thrust home. She dug her head into the pillow and writhed against him. She screamed. The erotic pleasure-filled sound bounced off the walls and wrapped around him.

With a final thrust, he pretended they wouldn't end and followed her into bliss.

The oddly pleasant scent of evergreen and peppermint drifting on the air pulled Kieralyn from sleep. Coc.o.o.ned in darkness, not even the morning cobwebs of exhaustion clouding her mind could make her forget where she was or what she'd done. She couldn't block the memories of the last twenty-four hours any easier than she could ignore the seriously expensive, high-thread-count sheets soughing against her skin. The man a.s.saulted the senses on every level.

Getting emotional about a case was one thing. Getting emotional over a man, showing him her inner self, was not an option. Vulnerability led to pain and disappointment. Personal relationships were not her thing. h.e.l.l, she barely maintained a decent working relationship with her coworkers and they had things in common.

Once she'd discovered freedom and independence, sharing s.p.a.ce with people for prolonged periods of time made her itchy. Claustrophobic. She didn't even like when she had to allow the apartment maintenance people in her place. Lana had been the only person she'd never minded sharing s.p.a.ce with, the only person to never stifle her or expect more of her than she had to give.

Lana had always been there and had shown her what life could be like. Kieralyn would be d.a.m.ned if she wasn't there when she was needed the most.

Staying around Ian, regardless of how competent he seemed to be, would catapult her into the role of caretaker. There were too many things he couldn't possibly do for himself. Things that would naturally fall into the lap of a girlfriend, fiancee or wife. He probably paid someone to do his cooking and cleaning. h.e.l.l, a significant other could save him money. He may already be thinking of her in the role. If a way existed for it to be an equal partnership she wouldn't mind a relationship with Ian.

Not that being with him-helping him-would be a tremendous hardship. He was capable of handling himself. He was an attentive companion.

s.h.i.t. She'd messed up. What she'd had with Ian in the past twenty-four hours threatened the balance she'd struck. It mocked her, taunting her with the desire to know more about him. To know his secrets and what drove him.

Walking away would hurt like h.e.l.l. She may as well slice the heart from her chest. At least then she wouldn't have the capacity to care about men any longer. She wouldn't be tempted to make monumental mistakes that could alter her life.

She would leave him. Self-preservation and her case mattered more than what Ian might think of her. Nope. Anything remotely long term with him was not a possibility.

She tossed the sheet back and flung her legs over the side of the bed. Whatever was happening between them was temporary. It would not interfere with her case. It would not hold any power over her life.

In the small kitchen, she found the pot of coffee that Ian had brewed. She poured a cup and drank it black before pouring another one. It was good. Better than her local coffee shop. With the caffeine burning through the cobwebs in her brain, she headed toward the lab.

Wall sconces were on in the lab, providing muted light for her. Ian kicked back in his chair listening to a recording, but not one of the men they were tracking.

"El Dogo to Enigma."

Kieralyn's brows shot up. Ian had a recording of El Dogo and hadn't said anything? It might be connected to another case he'd dealt with, but her gut said differently. El Dogo had a deeply personal connection to Ian. But what?

"Enigma here. Go."

"The mark is tainted. Fall back."

"Orders are to move in. We move in."

"I don't like this." El Dogo sighed heavily. "She's a blind child. She's hurt and scared."

"All the more reason to get her out." Enigma's voice was hard. Unmovable. "Move in on my signal. I'll cover you."

Enigma counted down from three. Sounds of bustling leaves crushing beneath heavy boots filtered into the room. Metal struck metal. Something sc.r.a.ped and then a door squeaked open. The girl screamed. There was a thump and then she silenced.

El Dogo knocked a child unconscious? As a favor to her or to himself? And if the child was already scared and traumatized, his actions wouldn't help her trust people if and when she did get free.

Gunshots and cursing broke the relative silence. "Move out."

El Dogo's breathing grew strained. There was a lot of shuffling, a few thumps as if punches were being thrown, and then running feet mixed with more gunshots. A car engine roared and the sc.r.a.pe of a van's side door sliding open and closed were the last sounds heard before the recording ended.

Kieralyn leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "When did your father-El Dogo-get out of the military?"