Intimate Secrets (The Love and Danger Series) (16 page)

Colt couldn’t handle it any longer.  Her soft, round bottom was driving him nuts whenever she wiggled against his groin and his arm was itching to release her just enough so that he could feel her soft breasts while he lowered her ever so slightly.  He
had to remember his oath was to “serve and protect”, not to “fondle and explore”, despite the amazingly feminine form that was enticing him more than he’d ever been enticed before. 

So when she started to wave the wooden spoon in the air in a threatening manner, he simply plucked it out of her hand easily and squeezed her waist slightly.  “Behave,” he told her softly in her ear.  “It sounds like these two guys are only trying to protect you.”

Chloe brutally suppressed the shiver of excitement that shot through her body with his sexy, deep voice so close to her ear.  “There’s nothing to protect me from!” she growled right back, but she was losing some of her steam. 

Colt almost smiled, but he was too busy
keeping a straight face every time she wiggled.  Back to business, he told himself firmly.  “Why don’t you show me and my partner these death threats and let us determine if there might be a more serious issue here.  If we take a look at them and there’s nothing to them, we’ll walk out of here and go back to our paperwork. No harm done and you can go back to cooking whatever is on that stove that smells so good.”

The little woman glanced to her right where Brock stood
.  His arms were crossed over his huge chest, and he had a satisfied grin on his handsome features as he watched his partner deal with the situation.  It was a shock and Chloe suddenly realized that the huge man holding her wasn’t alone.  “How many behemoths are there in the Chicago Police Department?” she demanded, obviously referring to Colt’s larger than average frame as well as Brock’s.

They’d been asked that question before so Brock was easily able to interpret her question.  “Four of us are about the same size.”

She nodded her head as if accepting that answer, but in reality, she was thinking that she needed to get out of this guy’s arms before she was tempted to turn around and enjoy it.  Okay, that was a lie.  She was already enjoying it.  She needed to get away from him before her mind decided to do something about his strong arms and all of his muscle bound height.  She sighed, forcing her whole body to relax.  “You can let me go now,” she said as calmly as possible.  “I won’t beat the traitors as long as you promise to not make a big deal about these stupid letters.”

Colt thought about it for a moment, but the smug look in his partner’s eyes was the deciding factor.  He couldn’t really hold the little spitfire any longer, much to his regret.  “Deal,” he finally agreed. 

He set her down, but his arm was slow to release her.  He didn’t give a damn about Brock’s expression.  His whole body was focused only on this lady and how much he didn’t want to let her go. 

Chloe felt the man’s muscular arm pull slowly away from her waist.  A moment after he let her go, she grabbed onto the counter, almost begging him to grab her again because her knees weren’t really cooperating with the holding-her-upright command. 

It had nothing to do with the big guy’s arm.  Or all those muscles that she’d never admit might be tantalizing.  Nope, she was out of the male-admiring business.  Men just ended up being backstabbing, egotistical jerks who needed to be coddled and cared for.  She didn’t have time for that.  She had a business to run and that filled all of her needs lately.  Sex was so low on her “needs” list, it didn’t even qualify as a footnote.  And that’s all this guy could probably offer her. 

So stop
staring at him then, she admonished herself. 

With frustration
, she slammed back into her kitchen.  When she was back to standing at her stove where she felt safe and secure, she breathed deeply, centering herself with the scents of the new sauce she was creating for tomorrow’s lunch special. 

When she saw the huge guy coming up behind her, she grabbed a dart from the basket where she stored them and sent it flying through the air towards her
dart board.  “There!” she snapped.  “All the letters are right there and you can see how worried I am about them.  They’re from some stupid person who has too much time on their hands and too few problems to challenge their minds so they’ve decided to try and intimidate me.  And it’s not going to work!”

With that, she turned back to the stove, continuing to stir what was starting to smell even better than before. 

Colt walked over to the dart board, grabbing the remaining darts that she obviously kept near to her stove.  Just as a precaution, he told himself.  He didn’t want her fiery temper to re-ignite and send one of the darts toward his back. 

Using a paper towel from a nearby roll, h
e held the papers in place while he pulled three other darts out of the letters, then released them from the thumbtacks.  There wasn’t just one or two of them.  Like Mark had said, there were several.  The ones at the back had many more dart holes in them, while the one on the top had only three.  “When did you receive this last one?” he asked, placing them on the steel countertop and spreading them out, being careful not to touch them while his eyes skimmed through the words. 

“This morning,” she said, keeping her back to the letters this time. 

Colt and Brock looked at the letters, all of which were typed, printed on regular white, eight by eleven paper that every office and business used in their copy machines and printers.  The ink was probably standard and there weren’t any visible lines that would be traceable to a particular printer. 

But as they read through the letters, Colt’s expression grew
more grim.  He was starting to realize that these letters weren’t just someone trying to intimidate the vivacious bistro owner.  They were genuine threats with specific examples of how the writer wanted to kill Chloe.  And there was graphic detail on what the person wanted to do before death took her away.  Rape, torture and murder were not subjects Colt or Brock took lightly. 

“When did you receive the first of these?” Colt
asked, his tone more brusque and businesslike.  Brock walked out of the kitchen and Colt knew that he was going to his trunk to get evidence bags and gloves. 

Chloe stopped stirring and thought back.  “I think the first one came around the first of October,” she said.  “Yeah, that would be right because we’d been open for about fourteen months by then and the summer heat had finally started to dissipate.” 

Colt wrote that down in his notebook.  “How do they arrive?  By messenger or by mail?”

“Always by mail,” she replied, not even looking up from the pot she was stirring.  Colt would
normally be irritated by this lack of attention by a woman, but he could see the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes and mouth.  He understood that Chloe, the lovely, vibrant woman, was feeling helpless and scared. 

Focusing on the problem, he said, “Do you have the envelopes?”

Chloe shook her head, trying to ignore the trembling that was creeping into her body as he asked more questions and his tone grew more serious.  “I don’t have any of the others, but this morning’s envelope is in the recycling bin,” she explained and turned off the heat before walking over to the bin.  “It’s right…”

“Don’t touch it,” Colt commanded, stepping closer.  Brock walked back in and handed him a pair of latex gloves which Colt pulled on quickly.  Lifting the envelope by the corner, he slipped it into a clear, plastic, evidence bag before examining the outside.  “It was mailed within the city,” he noticed, trying not to react when she moved closer.  She kept her distance, he noticed, but that didn’t stop his mind from wondering what it would be like if she would step just a little closer so he could smell her soft, feminine scent again. 

“These are a nuisance, not a threat,” she muttered, her chin jutting out defiantly.  “I won’t let them interfere with my day.”

Brock continued to slip individual letters into evidence bags while he looked across the steel countertop, watching the interaction between his friend and the restaurant owner.  He knew exactly where this was going and backed up, wanting for Colt exactly what he
had with Nina.  And if his instincts were correct, Colt was about to get blindsided by this fascinating female. 

“We’re going to need to fingerprint you and all of your employees, plus anyone who might have accidentally touched these letters.”

Chloe thought about that for all of five seconds before her face paled and she took a step backwards.  “No.  This isn’t happening!  You promised you wouldn’t make a big deal about the letters!  We don’t need to do anything and you guys don’t need anything because these are just someone’s pathetic idea of a bad joke.”

Colt listened to her and knew exactly what she was trying to do.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to work.  “Chloe,” he started off and turned
so she was only focusing on him, “these are not a nuisance and you can’t ignore them.  I understand why you didn’t take the first few letters seriously, but the words have become more specific and violent over time.  This is a serious threat and we need your help to figure out who is doing this to you.”

All the fight went out of Chloe and she stared up at the tall, strong man.  “I don’t want this to be serious,” she whispered angrily.  “Serious means that I’m vulnerable.  I’ve been there, done that.  I’m never going to be vulnerable again.”

Colt thought those were wise words, but not always realistic.  “So don’t be vulnerable,” he came back, moving closer to her.  She smelled like cookies, he thought.  Cinnamon cookies.  And the thought of eating her up jumped to his mind.  And the thought went immediately southward.  Focusing on her worried, brown eyes, he looked at her intensely. “Follow my instructions.  Trust me to help you out.”

“I don’t trust men,” she said softly but with
a firmness he hadn’t expected. 

“You can trust me,” he countered. 

She was already shaking her head.  “No way am I going to trust you.”  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  “Do you know how to cook?” she asked, obviously working things through in her mind.

Colt was surprised at the change in subject but went along with it, wanting to know how her mid worked.  “I know how to microwave a frozen meal.  And I’m an expert at finding the best restaurants or the fastest food in town.”

He had to suppress his laughter when she cringed.  “Okay, here’s the deal.  I know how to cook.  I’m guessing you know how to investigate.  As long as you acknowledge that I’m an expert at something and you don’t ever, under any circumstances, put me down for not being able to figure this thing out on my own, I’ll allow you to investigate.”  She didn’t wait for his agreement.  “But the first time, the very first time, I think you’re ridiculing me for not taking care of my own problems, you’re out and I figure this thing out on my own.  Deal?”

Obviously, someone had done a real number on her in the past.  Some guy had made her feel like crap and she was trying hard to stand on her own, show the world that she wasn’t just a pretty little chef with excellent taste in sarcastic t-shirts.  “It’s a deal,” he told her, then extended his hand to seal it. 

When she put her small, delicate hand in his, he felt something stream from her skin to his, then shoot right up his arm.  He saw that same surprise reflected in her own hazel ones and liked it, even though she tried to suppress it.  Too late, little one, he thought with relish.  You weren’t fast enough to hide it and I saw it.  Now you’re mine.

He pulled her slightly closer, wanting to be close, wanting to smell her, to….He shook his head,
trying to clear it of the sexual thoughts.  He’d get there, just focus on the letter issue first.  “Come down to the station today.  Don’t wait.  We’re going to start working on these letters as soon as we finish those delicious sandwiches.  We’ll examine them for language clues, syntax information and run it by our police psychologists.  All I need you to do is send your employees down to the station to get fingerprinted.”

Chloe instantly straightened up, insulted at what he was saying.  “My employees didn’t do this,” she asserted strongly. 

He shook his head quickly.  “I don’t think they did,” he assured her.  “We need their fingerprints for exclusionary purposes.  I’m pretty sure that whoever wrote these left a fingerprint somewhere on the letter or envelope.  We’ll run it through the databases to see if we have a hit.  But we’ll only find the author of these through fingerprints if the person has committed a crime or has been fingerprinted for a clearance or background check.”

Her shoulders slumped slightly.  “I understand.”  The words were weary, as if she’d been trying to figure this out for a while.

Colt took pity on her, preferring the angry woman to the defeated one.  “Chloe, I’m really good at what I do,” he explained, reaching out to touch her cheek.  He was startled by how much he wanted to touch much more of her. 

And that was before she smiled.  When that happened,
and those dimples showed up, he felt another sucker punch to his gut. 

Chloe smiled into this man’s eyes, glad he was a detective and had to keep his distance.  Otherwise, her hands-off-all-men vow would truly be tested.  She looked into his eyes, grateful that he wasn’t being an arrogant, irritating ass about all of this.  There was something there, something she didn’t understand
, but it soothed a part of her that she hadn’t realized was even fighting inside of her.  Odd, she thought.