Witness Seduction. Elle Kennedy

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 so would Marley. No way was he leaving her behind. She was the love of his life, after all. So unbelievably different from the fast and loose women in his past. He’d known it the second she’d walked into his hospital room in her green scrubs, with that gentle smile on her face.

      His smile dissolved into a frown as he thought about all the shit that had gone down three months ago. He still experienced an onslaught of rage every time he remembered what had happened in the warehouse. Damn cops. The shipment they’d intercepted had cost him millions of dollars. Not to mention that they’d officially made it impossible for him ever to live in the States again.

      Tomorrow morning, he planned on driving to Tijuana to meet with a guy who was arranging the necessary papers, and he was still working on a way to contact Marley. Once he did, he could get hold of the money he’d hidden in her house. He’d stashed two hundred grand under her bathroom floor three days after he moved in; it was part of his routine—always have an exit strategy in case you need one.

      And then there was the hundred grand in his and Marley’s joint account. Earlier this week a European contact who owed him money had transferred the dough in there, since the feds had frozen all of Patrick’s personal accounts and he didn’t have the resources yet to open anything new. He wasn’t sure why they’d left the joint account open—his instincts told him it was a trap—but if he could, he planned on transferring the amount to a bank in the Caymans when he secured the necessary ID papers.

      Once he got the cash from Marley’s house, though, he was outta here.

      And Marley was going with him.

      Sure she is, came the cynical voice in his head. Women always love men who betray them.

      “She does love me,” Patrick insisted, wishing he could punch that bothersome voice. “And she’ll forgive me for lying to her. Marley doesn’t stay angry at people, it’s not her way.”

      He noticed the old lady staring up at him with eyes as big as saucers. Had he spoken out loud?

      “She does, you know,” he said to Lydia. “Love me, I mean.”

      The certainty surrounding his heart was as strong as steel, causing the worry in his gut to dissolve. Of course Marley would forgive him. She was still his. All he had to do was find a way to get to her. And once he had the cash, he was going to whisk Marley away to a place where nobody could ever tear them apart again.

       3

      “OKAY, SO HERE’S WHAT you’re going to do,” Gwen said, tightening the drawstring on her bright pink scrubs.

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