at them while he filled a pitcher from a beer tap. A jagged scar ran through his lower lip halfway to the tip of his stubbled jaw.
Looking back, Linc settled his hand on Carrie’s thigh. “Want your usual?”
She could swear she felt the heat of each of his fingers seep through her jeans. “Not when the evening’s still young.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded low and throaty. “I’ll start with something tame.”
Linc tucked a finger under her chin and gave her a slow smile that had her throat clicking shut. “Babe, so far I haven’t found one tame thing about you.”
While Carrie struggled to breathe, he ordered a diet soda and a beer. It’s an act, she reminded herself.
When the bartender placed their orders in front of them, Linc peeled a twenty off the roll of bills and tossed it onto the bar. “Keep the change,” he said.
“Thanks.” Interested now, the man slicked them another look. “New in town?”
“I just moved here last week,” Linc said, and dipped his head toward Carrie. “Same goes for her. I’m staying at the Drop Inn. The night clerk said I’d find good food here.”
“Hamburgers are great. The five-alarm chili will set you on fire.”
“And some action.”
The bartender grabbed a whiskey bottle from in front of the dingy mirror that ran the length of the bar. “What sort?”
Smiling, Carrie leaned in. “What’s your name, handsome?” She already knew the answer. The jagged scar on his lower lip had still been raw in the mug shot she’d studied.
“Zack.” He filled one glass with whiskey, then another.
Aitken. She mentally added his last name while reviewing the misdemeanor gambling arrests on his record. “Well, Zack, I’m Carrie. My friend, Linc, and I are looking for all sorts of action.” She gave him a wink. “What do you recommend?”
Zack glanced toward the opposite end of the bar where customers were feeding coins into several tabletop video games. “We’ve got video poker. Pool. And lots of friendly folks.”
Linc sipped his beer. “If I want to play video games, I’ll go to an arcade.”
Zack gave them another once-over. Carrie knew she and Linc wouldn’t get an invitation to participate in illegal activities until they’d been checked out. She’d wager the Drop Inn’s night clerk would soon receive a call about Linc.
“You folks keep dropping by,” the bartender said. “You might find more interesting stuff to do down the line.”
“Fair enough,” Linc said, then turned to Carrie. “Want to play pool?”
“You go ahead.” Their plan was to split up part of the time during each visit and try to spot as much illegal activity as possible. “I’ll try the video poker Zack suggested,” she added. By law, Oklahoma did not allow games of chance that paid off in cash winnings. Gaming machines were legal only if the players racked up points that netted additional free games. Raising a shoulder, she glanced at the dance floor. “If I get bored with poker, I bet I can find some cowboy to give me a whirl.”
Easing in, Linc curled a hand around the side of her throat while his eyes locked with hers. “When you find that cowboy, babe, make damn sure he understands you’re mine.”
Her mouth went dry while arousal twined through her belly. The spicy scent of his aftershave was like a drug pumping into her system, spiking her pulse. For a mindless instant she wondered what it would be like to have his hands slicking over her bare flesh, to feel those perfect, white teeth scraping down her throat.
Her throat in which her pulse currently thrummed against his palm. The knowledge he could feel her response to him snapped sanity back into place. What was she doing? What in heaven’s name was she doing? She was a cop, on the job. He was her job.
With an alarm blaring in her head, her instinct was to jerk away from his touch, his scent. Since doing so might blow their cover, she eased back until his hand slid from her throat.
Linc said nothing, only watched her with his fascinating gold-brown eyes that had desire thickening around her like a spider’s web.
Carrie forced both a smile and an evenness into her voice. “I just had a thought.”
“What?”
“I’ll want to freshen up after I dance.” She held out her hand. “Why don’t you give me the key to the SUV so I can get my purse?”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“Sugar, I don’t want to have to keep track of it now,” she countered, keeping her hand out. “I’ll just slip outside when I’m ready.”
He pulled his jacket off the back of the stool, dug in the pocket for the key. “If you’re sure,” he said, dropping it into her palm.
“I’m sure.” She wrapped her fingers around the key. The ring held only the key to the vehicle, but she had seen Linc toss the key ring he usually carried into the glove box. That ring surely held his house key. Once he was immersed in his pool game, she would slip outside and make a clay impression.
He rose off the stool. “See you, babe.”
“Count on it, sugar.”
“Wanna ’nother game?” the heavyset biker with a Fu Manchu mustache asked while handing Linc a crumpled twenty-dollar bill.
“Some other night,” Linc said over the sound of billiard balls smacking together. He had spent the past hour playing pool while covertly checking men’s hairy forearms. He’d seen an uncountable number of tattoos, but none that resembled the coiled tail of a snake. His two-year search for Kim’s killer had led him to The Hideaway, but he’d known it would have been too much to ask to spot the bastard his first night there.
After replacing his cue in the holder bracketed to the wall, he snagged the beer he’d been nursing and strode toward the archway. He was vaguely surprised at the impatience burning through him. He’d always possessed the patience of a hunter, capable of hunkering down and waiting as long as it took to get what he wanted. That was one reason undercover work had been such a natural fit. What had changed? he wondered. Why did he feel a gnawing urgency to get the hell away from this place and not look back?
He paused when he stepped into the main room. The air was gray with cigarette smoke and seemed to shimmer with the music. Narrowing his eyes, he did a slow reconnaissance of the packed dance floor. Seconds later he caught a flash of fiery hair in the pulsating mass of bodies.
Earlier, he’d felt the softness of that auburn mane when he pressed his palm against Carrie’s throat. He’d been tempted to grab a handful of thick, silky fire, tug her chin back…
Then do what? he asked himself. See what it took to get her pulse beating harder than it already had been? He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. The spike in her heartbeat didn’t necessarily mean she felt an attraction to him. This was her first undercover assignment, her nerves had to be working overtime. His weren’t, though. Attraction was exactly what he’d felt with his hand on her throat, his mouth inches from hers while he breathed in the scent of soap and woman.
Dammit! He didn’t welcome the attraction, had no intention of acting on it. He needed to concentrate on finding Kim’s killer. Period. Problem was, he couldn’t get his mind off the possibility his one-time best friend—or maybe someone else—had decided to make him the fall guy for seven murders!
Sipping his beer, Linc scrolled his thoughts back to that afternoon. After calling the Tulsa homicide cop, he had gone to see his boss. He’d laid out everything for Lieutenant Quintana—from the pattern that all seven dead men had SEU files to the fact that he had spent the weekend in close proximity to the Tulsa murder. Grim-faced, Quintana seemed convinced Linc had nothing to do with the killings, and indicated he would start the