don’t know. But as long as we’re here, all we can do is wait.”
“For what?” AJ sounded frustrated. “There’s been no activity in the account since the wire transfer, no appearances by Grier, no phone calls, nada. What do you suggest we do?”
“We keep watching,” Caleb said, shrugging.
You mean torturing yourself.
He allowed himself another peek at the screen, swallowing when he noticed the sensual workout had begun. She always started out with sexy stretches that showcased her legs and emphasized her sleek calf muscles, followed by a series of little pelvic tilts that never failed to hold his undivided attention. Oh, and look at that, now she had her hands and feet on the mat, ass thrust up into the air.
Caleb smothered a groan. How much more of this could he take? He was only a man, after all. A thirty-one-year-old single man who’d always had a healthy appetite when it came to sex.
And the woman on the screen, with her lithe body and floor gymnastics, just screamed sex. The proximity of their houses, separated by mere yards, only made the situation worse. It was only ten steps from his porch to hers. Ten steps, and he could be at her door…in her bed…
“Maybe making contact wasn’t such a bad idea,” AJ said suddenly.
Caleb’s head jerked up. “What are you talking about? You just chewed me out for that.”
“Yeah, but I’m looking at it from another angle. You already laid some of the groundwork today,” AJ said, a thoughtful look entering his harsh features. “You saved her life, chatted her up. Sure, she thinks you’re a total weirdo, but—”
“What do you mean, she thinks I’m a weirdo?”
His partner shrugged. “You were like a panicked little rabbit out there. Seriously, you kept inching away, like you were going to bolt any second. I saw the look on her face, man. She’s suspicious of you. And she thinks you’re weird.” AJ offered a big grin. “Fortunately, you’re going to fix that by going over there tomorrow.”
Caleb faltered. He didn’t reply for a moment, running the idea through his mind. “No,” he finally said.
“Why not? All you’ve gotta do is befriend her, get her to open up and figure out what she knows about Grier.”
AJ made it sound like the easiest task on the planet, which, for AJ, it probably was. Despite his scary biker looks, AJ was never hurting for female company. Not Caleb, though. His problem wasn’t finding female company; it was making sure nobody ever got too close. He liked his women the way he liked his cars—fast, bold and temporary. No strings, no hassles and definitely no relationships. He’d learned the hard way the price you paid when you formed attachments to people.
And he didn’t want to get close to Marley Kincaid. His attraction to her had already proven too big a hassle—why make it worse?
“I won’t sleep with her to find out what she knows about Grier,” he grumbled.
“Who said anything about sleeping with her? Uh, one-track mind?” AJ snorted. “All I said was become friends with her. She cut her arm, right? Go over there tomorrow to make sure she’s okay.”
Caleb studied the monitor with a frown. The bedroom was now empty, but light spilled from underneath the closed bathroom door. Another part of the routine, a long shower after sexy yoga.
Indecision rippled inside him. Should he do this? It had been kind of amusing, talking to her outside. She had a great sense of humor, and she also happened to be the most beautiful woman Caleb had ever seen. Plus he was wildly attracted to her. An attraction that could equal trouble.
But AJ had a point. Caleb’s supervisor, Ken Stevens, was a good man, but he wasn’t known for his patience. If this stakeout didn’t produce any results, if Grier didn’t show up soon, Stevens would pull them out. Making contact with Marley and finding out if she knew anything might help move the case along. Hell, it might be the only way to keep the case alive.
“I guess I can do that,” he said slowly. “Just to see if she knows something.”
Right, because her fresh-faced beauty and killer body have nothing to do with it.
“You’re a professional,” AJ said, as if he knew where Caleb’s thoughts had drifted. “Keep it casual, dig around and hopefully she leads us to Grier.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
AJ let out a frustrated sigh that revealed precisely how he felt about his next words. “Then we go back to waiting.”
EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS, Patrick Grier deftly hopped the fence leading into the backyard of the house across the street from Marley’s. Darkness bathed the yard, which only helped his cause as he crept toward the back door. He’d purposely waited for the sun to set, killing time on a pier a few miles from here. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him in this neighborhood. A contact of his had warned him the cops were still watching Marley. Otherwise he would’ve broken into her house months ago. But he had to play it safe. Getting caught wouldn’t help him or Marley one damn bit.
The door swung open easily when he turned the knob, and he stepped into the dark house. The temptation to run across the street to see Marley was so strong his legs started to itch. He swiftly fought the urge. He didn’t have a death wish, after all.
Breaking into this house had been risky enough, but fortunately he knew the old bat who lived here. He’d spoken to Lydia White several times when he’d lived across the street, and during their talks he’d learned she lived alone and had zero family. No friends, either, though that wasn’t a surprise considering her foul personality.
But even bitches had to eat.
Tucking the deli bag under his arm, Patrick headed upstairs without turning on any lights. The spare bedroom at the end of the hall had a perfect view of Marley’s place, and when he peeked out the window, he noticed her bedroom light was on. Was she lying in bed, thinking of him?
Turning away from the window, he strode to the narrow closet and flung the door open. A pair of wide brown eyes greeted him, along with the muffled screams of Lydia White as she wiggled around on the closet floor like a scared puppy.
Patrick scrunched up his nose when the faint odor of urine drifted into his nostrils. “You couldn’t hold it for a day?” he spat out.
The old lady whimpered, terror filling her wrinkled face.
Gritting his teeth, Patrick bent down and hauled her up so that she was sitting. He yanked off the duct tape stuck to her mouth. “Open your mouth, I brought you some grub. And remember what I said about screaming.” As a reminder, he half turned to show her the black 9mm sticking out of his waistband.
Another whimper.
Ripping the wax paper covering the ham sandwich he’d picked up, he lifted one half to the lady’s mouth and practically forced it down her wrinkled old throat. She objected at first, but then began to chew, unable to resist the first form of nourishment she’d had since he’d left the house early this morning.
He stifled a curse as he fed the old bat, wishing he could just kill her and be done with it. But he wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer. No, he only killed when his own survival was threatened. Besides, he needed old Lydia around to answer the phone when some rare person called—while Patrick held a gun to her head, of course.
So far, Lydia had followed instructions like a pro. And using her house as his base of operations was ideal. For the moment.
“Here,” he barked, uncapping a bottle of water and bringing it to Lydia’s mouth.
The elderly woman drank fervently, but the glimmer of fear never once left her eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. “I told you, I won’t be here long. I’m just making some arrangements and then I’ll be gone.”
And