Dangerous Lines (10 page)

“Deal.”
Flipping his hand
over
he
caught her good one and shook.

Chapter Twelve

After arriving at the safe house to find Shawn, and
his wife Tamara, waiting for them at four in the morning, Vincent and Ro had
been busy. First in greetings, catching Tamara up on all that Shawn hadn’t
filled her in. After that had been rounds of questions. Then a few tears
between the women. Somewhere in there he’d even gotten Rhonda to eat something.

Once they’d settled in a bit, Vincent did an
inspection of the house. If he and Ro were staying there, specifically Rhonda,
he wanted to ensure that it was beyond fucking secure. It met with his high
standards, likely why Shawn had picked it. It had a big yard, high fence, no
trees at the fence line, security lights that tripped at anything, an over the
top security system, and a stash of weapons that could start a small war.

While they waited for Trent to arrive with the
boxes of folders, Vincent got some food into Ro and then made her lay down.
She’d slept fitfully on the drive, but he could see the exhaustion weighing on
her. He tried to get her to a bed, but she knew he’d leave her there if he
could—smart woman—so they settled on the sofa near the front door to wait.

At just after seven a knock came. Ro jerked awake,
and looked around in a daze. “Son of a bitch, that hurts.” Letting out a moan
she pressed a hand to her ribcage.

“
Shh
,” Vincent whispered.
“It’s just Trent with the files.” Gently as he could, he eased her head back
down onto his chest, and stroked her hair.

“We should get up,” she said, her voice husky from
sleep.

“We’ll let Trent and Shawn
bring
everything in first. It’ll give you a moment to wake up,” he said. It would
also give him a few more minutes to hold her in his arms.

Tamara hadn’t been all that surprised when Ro told
her that Vincent got Rhonda to agree to date. With a shared look between them,
Vincent had seen that the woman knew it was more than that, yet was willing to
keep her mouth closed. Why exactly she was willing to keep her mouth shut he
didn’t know, but he was good with it. Ro wasn’t ready to think beyond dating,
not when she had it in her head that she’d fucked up the last relationship.

Rhonda let out a little sigh, rubbing her cheek to
his chest as she wiggled in closer. Smiling, he stilled his hand on her hair.
“What are you doing?”

“You’re so warm, and I love the way you smell, but
you are really not all that comfortable, Vincent.
A little
too hard to sleep on.”

Snorting out a laugh, he rolled his eyes. “Are you
telling me I need to be a little flabbier so you could be comfortable?”

“Well, no.” Lifting her head she poked a finger
into his stomach. “I like the fact you’re hard all over, very nice definition
too. I’m just saying that you really are not made to be a pillow.”

“So you are complaining, just not about my
physique.”

“Right, see, you get it.”

Yeah, not so much.
“Sure, so you won’t be sleeping with me? Is that what you’re saying?”
He wanted some clarity here.

Rhonda moved to sit up, ended up straddling his
thighs with a little huffing and puffing, her good hand on his chest for
balance. “I didn’t say that.” She was glaring down at him. “I just said you’re
not built in a
pillowy
fashion for long term sleep.
As to sleeping with you...” Her lips curled up into a huge grin.

“What?”

“I hope we’ll be doing something more than just
sleeping, Vincent. I definitely want to sleep with you, but I’d also like to
sleep
with you if you get my drift.”

“I don’t know, I think you should clarify, Ro.” Now
he
was
messing with her. The look on
her face told him she was onto his little game.

With a quick look over her shoulder, Rhonda leaned
in, bracing against him as she did so. “I’m saying, for clarities sake, that I
want to have you fuck me hard, fast, and dirty, Vincent Bradley. I want you to
love me slow, make me insane,
screw
me every which
way, until I pass out in a sweaty heap in a bed with you to recover. Clear
enough for you?”

“Yep,” he croaked out. He didn’t think he could get
anything else out, not with how all his blood had shifted south fast enough to
give him whiplash.

“Good.” With a smile she pressed a kiss to his
lips, and slid off the sofa.

Watching her walk toward where everyone else stood chatting,
he could only shake his head. She was going to be the death of him. That much
he was absolutely sure of. Easing to his feet he had to grin. At least it would
be one hell of an amazing ride to get there.

*****

Six hours, seemingly endless files, too much
coffee, and every crumb of food that Trent’s fiancée Mallory had sent later,
they were waiting on Ro as she looked through the files they’d filtered down.
Vincent hadn’t let her do much of anything beyond give them a description. She
hadn’t been allowed to touch one, single file.
Which had
pissed her off.

But she was still so easily exhausted, and he had
some plans for her later. She had ten folders to go through to try and identify
the guy she’d seen in the warehouse with Moreau. Vincent watched as she set
another one aside. She only had three left to go. God, he hoped the bastard was
in one of the folders.

In the next instant, he knew she’d found him. She
didn’t say anything, but he knew her moods. Moving to stand behind her Vincent
put a hand on her neck and squeezed. “Ro?” he asked softly.

“It’s him,” she whispered.

Leaning over her shoulder, he looked at the picture
attached to the folder. “
Yancy
Barrows, forty-three,
divorced twice and a two time loser on his third strike,” he read out loud.
“You sure, babe?”

With a jerky nod, she looked at him. “I’m sure.
It’s him, Vincent. This is the guy Moreau was talking to in the warehouse. We
busted him, his second time, on a sting for illegal weapons. He was the broker
on the deal meeting with one of our under cover’s. He wouldn’t have known I was
a cop, but I was the under cover’s arm candy at the exchange. Sitting back,
doing my nails and trying not to get anything on my shoes. I would have been
dressed to the nine’s, but I wasn’t wearing a wig, it was too fucking hot. So
if
Yancy
got even the smallest look at me, he likely
had an ‘I know her’ moment at that warehouse.”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered. Slipping his arm
around her shoulders, he hugged her, rubbing his cheek to hers lightly. “Shawn,
we need to find Barrows, yesterday. We need to know if he actually was the one
to ID Ro. If he did, I want to know what the little shit said.”

With a nod Shawn plucked the folder from Rhonda’s
limp hold, got up, and left the kitchen with his phone to his ear.

Gently, Vincent tugged Ro up from the chair and
into his arms. “If we can figure out why he was with Moreau, you may have just
found a way to nail him, Ro.” She was shaking like a leaf in his
arms,
he didn’t like it at all. Until he drew back a little
to see her face, she was furious, not scared.

“I know.” Her arms tightened around his waist to
pull him back in. “I know you won’t like this, but I need to be there when you
guys question
Yancy
. Please?”

Squeezing his eyes shut he went through a list of
curses in his head. He knew how hard that “please” was for her to add on, so
there was only one answer he could give. “Okay.”

She jolted, leaning back to look up at him. “What?”
she asked in a stunned voice.

“I said okay, Ro. I know you need closure on this.
Yancy
is a part of that. I don’t like it one little bit,
but I’m not going to argue. If he sees you, he might just spill his guts
faster. I want you to do one thing for me though.”

“Okay, what?”

“Stay out of his reach. He’ll be desperate, and as
much as you’ve already recovered, you’re not at the top of your game yet. So
stay back, well out of his reach. I want him to see you, but I don’t want him
to get his hands on you.”

She stared up at him, a suspicious look on her face,
but quickly nodded.
“Deal.”

Pressing a kiss to her lips, he tucked her head
back under his chin.

Chapter Thirteen

It hadn’t taken all that long to round up
Yancy
Barrows, dirt bag. Shawn apparently found him playing
darts at a pub not that far from the place Moreau nearly killed her at. Now
they had Barrows in a room deep inside of one of the empty warehouses Shawn
owned. It was actually under construction, but the new tenants wouldn’t be
there anytime soon, or the contractor, given it was the weekend.

Rhonda was holding onto Vincent. She needed to or
she’d likely kill
Yancy
-fucking-Barrows. Vincent
didn’t seem to mind one bit. He held onto her just as tightly. Poor guy likely
thought she was going to go for
Yancy’s
throat. Not
that far off given how pissed she was.

Shawn was there, gun pointed at
Yancy’s
forehead while Trent secured him to the chair. There were a couple of the
C&M Security bodyguards there too. She didn’t remember their names though
she’d met them on multiple occasions. She was a little more focused on the man who
was the reason behind her beat down.

Trent tugged on the ties holding
Yancy
and nodded to Shawn. Only then did Shawn step back
and put his weapon away.

“Who the hell are you?”
Yancy
demanded. He couldn’t see the men, not with the way they’d set up lights, and with
the bandana’s over their faces.

“Who we are doesn’t really matter, Mr. Barrows. The
bigger question you should be asking is, are you going to get out of this alive
or not,” Shawn said.

That sent
Yancy
into a
frenzy, fighting the bonds and generally tiring
himself
out. No one said anything until the man had slumped into an exhausted heap in
the chair, only the loud sound of his panting filling the space around them.

“If you’re quite done, Mr. Barrows,” Shawn said.
“We have someone here who’d like to say hello. What happens to you after
depends on how forthcoming you are about Moreau and his operations, and
whatever you might be helping him with.”

“I don’t know a Moreau,”
Yancy
protested.

Looking to Vincent, Rhonda got a nod so she let go and
stepped forward, staying well out of the pool of light. Only when Shawn waved
her forward did she step into the edges of the light, then one more step.
Everyone had been very clear how close she could get to
Yancy
,
and set everything up accordingly. While it grated on her nerves, she wasn’t a
complete idiot either.

Yancy’s
eyes went wide,
practically bulging from his head as he wheezed in a breath. “You’re supposed
to be dead.”

“Yeah, well, the rumors of my untimely demise have
been greatly exaggerated. What did you tell Moreau,
Yancy
?”

“I didn’t tell him anything, I swear it.”

“Bullshit,” she said. “You told him something and
because of that, he beat me up for hours. So, you tell me what you told him, or
I let one of these really large men give you the same treatment.” She held up
her cast. “Trust me. You really don’t want that.”

“I didn’t say anything to him,”
Yancy
said again.

Sighing, Rhonda waved in one of the guys. He checked
the kerchief over his face meant to hide his identity before stepping into
Yancy’s
field of vision. In the event
Yancy
got out of there, they didn’t need him able to identify anyone else.

“You only bring this upon yourself,
Yancy
. His hand first, if you would,” she requested.

“No, no!”
Yancy
squealed
as he curled his fingers into a fist.

Shawn’s guy pried
Yancy’s
fingers straight again, and rested the hammer on the back of his hand. Then he
hefted it a couple of times, judging it. All the while
Yancy
screamed. As Shawn’s man lifted the hammer high,
Yancy
finally said something that had Rhonda holding up a hand to halt the man’s down
swing.

“Say that again,
Yancy
,”
she demanded.

“Don’t let him break my hand, don’t let him,” he
whimpered.

“I won’t, if you tell me the fucking truth. If you
bullshit me, I’ll have him break more than your hand. So talk!”

“He asked me what was wrong when I saw you. I told
him I thought I knew you from somewhere. He asked where. I told him flat up I
couldn’t be sure, but I thought you’d been dating someone I used to deal with.
The look was different, but maybe it was a doppelganger. That’s it, I swear
it.”