Chapter Four.

Each step closer to her car, each moment Ian didn't specify what answers he wanted, sent vibrations of awareness through Kieralyn and ratcheted her anxiety up another notch. He'd been silent for the last three blocks. Instead, he held her close and kept himself on high alert as if he expected trouble. His body brushed against hers, inciting waves of antic.i.p.ation.

If he really hadn't listened to her conversation with the couple at the bar, what had him on edge? She looked over her shoulder but again saw no signs that they were being followed. Had her plan worked? Was she closer than she thought to answers and success? Had he heard something?

Truth. He could want the truth about her source or about her attraction to him. d.a.m.n, but she wanted it to be the latter. She needed it to be the former. "Are you going to tell me what you want?"

"You in my bed would be nice." His voice was even more seductive in the cool night breeze than it had been in the closeness of the club. He shifted a little behind her until his six feet four inches of solid muscle practically coc.o.o.ned her.

"Imagine that. An original desire that I've never heard before." An image that comes too easily to mind.

"I promise, you've never had a man do to you what I would. You've never known the pleasure I could give you."

"Ha! How could you possibly know that?" Ian guided her around a corner and then quickly made a few more turns before steering her onto the sidewalk in front of the NSA compound.

"It's in the way that you move and speak. Which lot is your car in?"

"North." She headed toward her car. Ian stayed at her back rather than her side. "What makes you think you'd be so good for me?"

"I feel your body's responses. Hear the way your heart beats as the blood heats in your veins. I know what turns you on and can sense the pleasure building inside of you."

As if his words commanded it, her body pulsed and her blood heated. Her panties rubbed against her sensitized s.e.x with each step, heightening her awareness of him. Heightening her desire for his indulgence to be erotic.

"Are you always so arrogant, Ian?" She veered right, toward her car sitting alone beneath a security lamp.

"It's not arrogance."

She pulled her keys from her bag and led Ian to the pa.s.senger door before going to the driver's side and sliding behind the wheel. "Then what is it?"

"Confidence in the skills I've spent my life developing." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a moment before he pulled his door closed and relaxed into the seat.

Kieralyn rolled down her window and surveyed the area as she drove from the lot. Something had demanded his attention and kept him on guard during their walk. Had she captured the interest of the owner and enticed him into making a move? Had they been followed? Maybe her excitement and anxiety had been from a sense of someone following her rather than her attraction to Ian. She sure preferred that possibility.

"Well, you can keep your skills to yourself." She zipped toward his home. The walk earlier had taken nearly thirty minutes. The drive would take less than five. "You said you wanted answers. Answers to what?"

"You intrigue me, Kieralyn Beckett. Just when I think I know what you may say next you jump topics."

"And you always steer them back to s.e.x." She stopped at a light and sat watching her rearview mirror until it turned green. Without Ian touching her, she was convinced that at least a fraction of her nerves had been her instincts. She saw no one, but she'd been followed.

"And you only want to discuss business. That's one way that I know you've never been fully satisfied by a man." His hand brushed over her knee. His lips angled up in a small smile. "You need to learn to relax. To enjoy the simple things."

"And you need to cut to the chase. What answers do you want?"

"You've been hurt by someone. You're too smart to let a s.h.i.tty father figure warp your views on men." He nodded slowly. "You were hurt by someone you trusted. Someone you viewed as an equal, but who couldn't or wouldn't view you the same way."

"That's a nice theory." And too close to the truth. Her jaw ached with the pressure to not clench her teeth.

"It's logical, like you. It likely played into your decision to become an agent, which is a field dominated by strong men. You want to prove to yourself that you can belong. You're not against shoving their faces in it when you succeed."

"You're an a.s.s, Cabrera. What answers do you want?"

"See? I'm close. You're putting me in my place, compartmentalizing me by switching to my last name."

"d.a.m.n it. I don't have time for your games."

"You'll have to play them a little longer. What I want from you... It's more than you'll be able to give in the time it takes to get to my house." He pulled his hand back to his lap. "We'll talk there."

Arrogant a.s.s. Cool air brushed over the warmth he'd left behind, mocking her. With him, she might find the warmth she'd looked for her entire life. It would only cost the control she'd fought to regain after her eighteenth birthday. The control she'd almost lost just as quickly as she'd discovered it.

She pulled into his driveway and slid the car into park.

"Hold on. I'll open the garage." He was out of the car and crossing the driveway before she could argue. There was no reason for her to park in the garage. She wasn't going to stay overnight.

He stepped around the corner of the house, out of sight. A moment later the double wide garage door rose to reveal an immaculate s.p.a.ce. It was equipped similarly to his lab at work, though on a much smaller scale and with the control panel along the right wall.

Rather than argue, she pulled in. He stepped into the garage behind her car, pushed a b.u.t.ton and closed the door. He was opening her door before she could reach for the handle.

"Come on in. I'll make us some coffee."

"If I drink coffee this late, I'll be awake all night." She slipped her keys into her bag and eased out of the car. The garage door b.u.mped against the floor. Some kind of sprayed-on padding coated the walls and the inside of the door. They were immediately coc.o.o.ned in silence. "You soundproofed your garage?"

"The entire house actually. The coating is a specially designed insulation. It keeps the temperature regulated and blocks the outside sound."

An image of Ben Affleck in a sensory deprivation tank in Daredevil popped into her mind. Was that how sound was for Ian? He didn't act like it gave him the ability to see, but maybe it overwhelmed him after a while. She almost asked him, but knowing too much about Ian would draw her deeper into his world than she cared to be.

She needed structure and predictability. Independence and control. She couldn't afford him. "I can see the appeal, but I think I'd miss the sounds of life I can hear from my apartment."

"I still hear sound from the windows, so the house isn't entirely soundproof." He opened a door that led to his kitchen and flipped on a light. She followed. "I would have foregone windows, but I like the warmth of the sun. There are pros and cons to everything."

"Some things, like bets, have more cons. When are you going to tell me the answer you want?"

"Then you're taking losing bets." He walked to the refrigerator. "Would you like a bottle of water or a soft drink?"

"Just an answer."

He shrugged and pulled out a water. His yellow lab, heavily grayed around his nose and eyes, padded into the room and sat beside the back door. "Hey, Maximum." Ian walked over and opened the door.

Maximum. Interesting name for a dog.

They moved together as seamlessly as they had walking home. Ian had said they'd been together a long time, and the dog was obviously getting up in years. How long had Ian been blind? Was this his original seeing-eye dog?

"I want to know everything you know about the recording you brought me, including who sent it to you. And by who I'm looking for the background of how you know her. Why she chose you."

His response jerked her from her thoughts. She wasn't with him to get to know him. She stiffened her spine. "That's none of your business."

"But you're going to tell me," he continued. "Start with exactly what you said at the club when you went up to the bar."

"Ah, so you can't hear as much as you claim." If he could, she wouldn't have to tell him what she'd said. Explain its meaning, yes. But not what it had been.

"I can. I could have heard your entire conversation easily. I wasn't listening."

Why not? What had he been doing? She'd been certain he would have eavesdropped on everything she said.

He sat at his table and pointed at a chair opposite him. "Sit. Talk."

"Should I perform tricks for you as well?" Like he'd done this morning, he commanded and expected her to obey. Unlike this morning, he wanted her to speak.

"You're a smarta.s.s."

"You're just an a.s.s."

"Kieralyn, you accepted the bet and lost." He closed his eyes and breathed deep. His jaw ticked, the scar along the edge danced. "Tell me what you said at the bar and who you got the recording from. There was a reason it was emailed to you privately, rather than your team or the Bureau as a whole. What is it?"

"What difference does it make?" She recognized the futility in her voice. He'd had s.e.x on the brain when he'd dared her. Something had changed his mind. Something big to have him giving up a sure thing.

"It matters because it's what drives you to solve this case." He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the table with his hands out before him. His fingers rested inches from hers on the table. "You know, or knew, her personally. She's not random."

Kieralyn dropped her shoulders and sank deeper into the chair. He couldn't make her life more difficult than her team. She told him how she'd introduced herself to the couple at the bar using Lana's name and a slavery story angle and how very shortly afterwards the owner had walked away seemingly p.i.s.sed. Ian was easy to talk to and he'd pinpointed the owner at the club when she might not have.

She'd wanted someone to talk to, someone she could tell about Lana. Maybe he would be more willing to help if he knew why it mattered so much-unlike her team.

"There was this group of pre-law students that I wanted to join. Cras Credemes they called themselves. It means 'tomorrow we believe', and members of the group had amazing contacts and success. I wanted that on my resume. What they apparently left off of their crest was the second half of the saying. Hodie nihil-but not today."

"What didn't they believe in?"

"The value of women in modern society. That women had a right to get educations and compete against men for jobs. Take your pick." Oh, but they had talked a good game until she saw the truth of them. "They refused to let me in, so I went to the school paper with plans of exposing them."

"And you met Lana."

"Yes. We put together an amazing article backed up with printed data and recorded statements from two former members. We proved that they were discriminating. Rather than let me or any other woman into their inner sanctum the group disbanded."

"Really?"

"No, but they said they did." Which just proved that people lied. "Regardless, during the course of the investigation, despite the pressures from the school faculty and the threats from the men in the group, Lana stuck by me. We got an apartment together the next semester and only split ways once our careers were headed down solid paths." She was the first person to ever keep her word. The first person to never back away or run when things were less than perfect. "She's determined to win a Pulitzer for writing a hard-hitting, emotional story."

His brows popped up. "And you haven't told your team that you knew her because they would insist you be taken off the case."

"It's a chance I can't take." She wanted a drink after all, so she got up and helped herself. "We've been tracking these kidnappings for a month. We're getting reports of other women who've gone missing, but they're from scattered towns and it's taking time to follow up on the leads. I worry that even if I prove a connection and find the perpetrators that we won't recover everyone." She shook her head and sighed. "A couple days ago we were called about another one."

"Lana."

"I couldn't believe it." Tears she hadn't allowed herself to shed clogged her throat. She wouldn't cry now either. It would do no good. She uncapped the water and chugged it, washing the tears down. "There I stood in her home, knowing everything she'd ever done for me. Knowing the odds of recovery and that I may never see her again."

"When did you get the recording? How have you kept your team from connecting her to you?"

"I took point on running her background and interviewing her connections. The guys on the team were all busy doing the same for other victims."

"And the recording?"

"That night when I checked my email." She chuckled. "The name on the account was Crazy for Naoko."

"And that meant something to you?"

"Naoko is j.a.panese for straight. Honest." Her mind floated back to college, as it had when she'd read the name. "Naoko was also a guy in one of our college English cla.s.ses."

"And you guys liked him."

"Ha." She smiled and breathed slowly as she remembered him. "Everyone, guys and girls alike, liked him. Naoko was just one of those likeable people. Lana, though, was more than a little bit in love with him. And he loved her."

"What happened?"

"Despite dual citizenship and having been raised in America, he succ.u.mbed to family pressure. He returned to j.a.pan and married the girl his family had chosen for him. To give him credit, he'd told Lana from the beginning that he would do what his family expected of him. Anyway, Lana made a joke out of the irony of his name. He'd been the only honest man she'd ever known."

"I'm guessing that you or your team traced the email account? The IP address the email came from?"

"Yes. She stopped at a cyber cafe one night and created the account. Mine was the only email she ever sent from it. She was reported missing eleven hours later."

"So she had known that she was a target."

"Yes." Lana didn't miss details. Ever.

"Tell me something. She made the recording in the club. You're playing games to draw the owner toward you."

"Yeah?"

"Do you honestly think that if they are selling these women that they would keep them in one place, especially a busy club, for a sustained period of time?"

"Are you telling me that you believe it's impossible?"

"No. I'm asking you to consider that you might not find the women there."

"I might not, but if they have the facilities, the club could be a good cover. If the owner came under suspicion, no one watching him would see anything off as his day-to-day schedule would remain the same. The noise of the club at night would cover any racket the women did manage to make, and he'd have the mornings and afternoons to deal with whatever it is he needs to do with them."

His raised eyebrows indicated that he was impressed. She'd given it more thought than he'd given her credit for.

"You put yourself in danger in the club by using Lana's name."

"I wanted them to follow me. I wanted to be able to track them back to the women if they weren't at the club."

"You wanted to put yourself in the line of fire so you could prove to your unit that you knew what you were talking about." His jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed. He drummed his blunt-tipped fingers on the table. "To shove it in their faces that you were right. You view them like the guys that wouldn't let you into their club. You have to earn that spot sometimes."

"You know nothing about my motivations." She popped up straight. As she pushed slightly away from the table, the chair legs sc.r.a.ped loudly on the floor. This is completely different. Isn't it? "I have a case to solve. It was a necessary risk."

"Bulls.h.i.t! What if I hadn't been with you? What if I hadn't heard them talking about you?" He slammed a hand against the table. "It was a stupid risk."

Kieralyn's phone jingled with an incoming text message. It was Breck's ring. She retrieved the phone and read the message he'd sent. "You son of a b.i.t.c.h."