Dangerous Protector (Federal Paranormal Unit) (10 page)

“Who is it?”

“Cynthia,” she answered, noticing a difference in Clara’s voice. It was rougher, almost angry. What could have pissed her off?

Clara
opened the door, staring at her with rage filled brown eyes. “Cynthia. What do you want?”

Talk about an attitude shift. Where was the concerned and slightly vague woman from the previous day? And whatever happened to Cici?

“I…wanted to ask you a few questions, Clara.”

Her aunt stomped toward the kitchen, her footsteps no longer soft and quiet like the day before. “I need tea.”

Cyn frowned. She couldn’t understand the shift in Clara’s attitude. The house was still as clean if not cleaner than the last time she’d been there. She followed behind Clara, toward the kitchen. Her aunt mumbled under her breath.

“
Do you have a moment for some questions?”

Clara stopped
, her fingers tight on the counter. A heartbeat later she turned to Cyn. “What did you need to know, Cici?”

Weird. It was like flipping a light switch. Clara smiled at her, her eyes softer than when she’d opened the door.
Someone was super hormonal or the word eccentric was nowhere near good enough to describe her aunt.

“You clean houses for the
Torrents, Kemps, and Landleys, right?”

She nodded, absently grabbing cups for the tea. “I do
. Sometimes Roxy goes instead because I have to go to service.”

Right.
Service. With all the church paraphernalia around, she knew her aunt was definitely devoted to the services. There were images of angels, crosses at every turn and giant paintings of religious depictions. “So can you think of any reason for Roxy to have their addresses and some initials in her diary?”

Clara jerked around, her eyes wide. “No. I…I don’t think so. That boy,” she said, her voice switching to that angry tone again
. “He was her downfall.”

She was losing her.
Damn! “No, no, Clara. Why would she keep their addresses in her diary?”

Clara’s eyes took a distant look, as if she’d gone off somewhere. “They paid her. Maybe she recorded it that way.”

It was possible. Cyn wasn’t convinced. “It’s okay. I’ll go see if they know where Roxy could be.”

She stood
, flung her bag over her shoulder, and smiled. “I should go.”

“What about the tea?”

“Thanks, Clara. But I just had lunch.” She marched for the front door, not really wanting to stay any longer. For some reason, the house made her uncomfortable. She stepped outside. Once there, she turned around to face Clara.

“Are you sure Roxy couldn’t be with a friend? Maybe spending a few days away?”
Cyn asked again, hoping for a different response this time around.

Clara shook her head slowly. “No,” she said, her voice low. “
She used to be an innocent. He did it. He took her from me.”

“Who did what?” She so wished the woman made sense.

“That boy from hell!” she said and slammed the door closed.

Great.
That was the reason she didn’t visit Clara. Grandmother had said she was eccentric. Frickin’ whacko was more like it.

Brock followed the young girl who’d been leaving the Torrent house. He knew her to be Carey Torrent from what the housekeeper had informed him. He’d missed her by a few moments.

The girl zipped her purple VW convertible bug down the street
—way over the speed limit. Loud dance music blared from her radio. She bopped her blonde head to the tunes. It was a few miles before she stopped at the local parish. She parked next to Landley’s car and ran into a side door. Interesting.

He waited for a moment. Cyn hadn’t called yet
, and he didn’t like sitting around. He headed for the same entrance Carey had used when a woman rushed out. She tugged a shawl around her shoulders, but the scent drifting from her wasn’t one that could be hidden. Sex.

She made eye contact with him before
turning away. Shame and excitement floated from the woman. He watched her run to her minivan before going into the building. A long, quiet hallway broke off into two sections, neither looking especially attention-grabbing. The brown wallpaper darkened the space, seeming to close it off around a person.

He took the right side, following the scent where the woman had come from. An office door stopped him short. Jonathan
Landley, Pastor. Things just got better and better. He knocked on the door. There was a quick shuffle before someone opened it.

“Yes?”
said a man in his mid-to-late forties. The pastor. He gave Brock the once-over, his hand moving to anxiously rub over the back of his neck.

“Would you happen to be Mr.
Landley?” Brock already knew he was the man. He also knew he’d been the one having sex with the woman who’d rushed out of the building.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” The man’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m looking for Roxy Santos. She’s gone missing.”

“Really? That’s sad news. Her mother is a very active parish
ioner,” he said. Though he tried to sound sympathetic, Brock knew the man didn’t give a shit.

“Is that your wife I just ran into in the parking lot?”
he asked casually.

“Who? Rebecca? No no. She’s a parish member. One of my best.”

Yeah, he’d bet. His best affairs. The scent of sex overpowered the preacher’s office. “Sorry, I was told to speak to Carey Torrent, but I seem to have lost her when she came into the building.”

The pastor made a show of glancing down at his watch. “Well it’s time for our young adult hour down at the center, so she’s probably there with my boy
, Josh.”

“Right. Would you happen to know anything on the whereabouts of Ms. Santos?”

The preacher shook his head. “Sorry. She wasn’t an active member. She hardly ever came by here. She did clean up at my home and hung out with my son. My wife and son could be of more help. I’m a busy man.” He sighed and glanced up at Brock. “Trying to save these souls.”

Brock had deep respect for those who took their religion seriously
, but this man was a joke. He clearly used his position to get away with having affairs with parishioners. “Right.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr.?”

“Brock, James Brock, FBI,” he smiled coldly, watching the preacher’s already pale features turn ashy. “I’ll go search for Ms. Torrent.”

He searched through the preacher’s mind to see if he had anything on Roxy. All he found was th
at he was having an affair with the local mechanic’s wife. He also randomly hired prostitutes to visit him. Nothing on Roxy.

Though he was tempted, he didn’t mess with the preacher’s mind. He knew better than to
do that on a regular basis. He left the man’s office and followed the hallway down to a center opening. He was about to enter when he heard two voices.

“Well, where the fuck is Luis?”
the female said.

“I don’t know,” answered a male one.

He knew that voice. Josh Landley. He also knew Josh was lying.

“Luis wouldn’t just disappear like this,” said the girl, her voice laced with frustration. “I don’t understand where he could have gone.”

“Relax, Carey, I’m sure he’ll be around in a few days,” murmured Josh. “Oh, the cops came by my house today.”

“Oh?”
Carey asked, but wasn’t really interested.

“Roxy’s missing.”

Carey gasped. “Do you think she might be with Luis? He wouldn’t cheat on me, would he?”

“I don’t know. He was the last person she was going to see when she went missing.”

Something slammed against a wall. “Fucking bitch!”

“Calm down, Carey.
If someone tells my dad you’re throwing things in here. We’ll get in trouble.”

Carey growled. “Shut the fuck up, Josh. You’re a little punk. If you had any balls your girl wouldn’t have been seeing my boyfriend anymore,” she spat. “This is why I can’t be with someone like you. You need to grow a fuckin
’ pair.”

“Whatever. I told her not to see Luis,” he replied, his voice a mere whisper.

“And?” Carey shouted. “She clearly didn’t pay your stupid ass any attention.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn up,” Josh
whispered.

Brock marched into the room. They had their backs to him, but he could scent Josh’s fear and Carey’s anger.

“Whatever. It’s his loss if he’s with her. I’ll make his life miserable for as long as he lives in this town. Nobody turns on me. And not for that piece of trash. I’m going home.” She shoved away from him and rushed out a different exit.

Josh was alone for a moment before he turned around.

Brock grinned. “Hello, kid.”

“Aw fuck
!”

Fuck was definitely right.

“Hmm, so let’s see,” he said, marching toward a frozen-in-place Josh. “What happened between this morning and now that I don’t know about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about man,” Josh sputtered.

He didn’t want to go digging in the kid’s mind. There was never any guarantee that doing that wouldn’t have a negative side effect, so he tried again. “Just tell me where Luis is and how he got there. It’ll save you a lot of grief.” He allowed the boy to see his face start to shift, and his eyes take on the full-on black of his demon side.

“Holy shit! What the fuck are you?”

“Didn’t we have this conversation already? You really should listen. I’m your worst nightmare, kid.” His voice was low, rough, a mere growl. He lifted Josh off the ground and brought him closer. “Answer the question or I might be forced to turn your brain into mush if I try to figure it out myself.”

“I—I don’t know,” Josh screeched, fear shooting out of his system.

“Yes, you do.” Brock sighed. “I can tell. And unless you want a lesson on how, I suggest you tell me where Luis is.”

“He…he hangs out at this old warehouse with Roxy and his half-sister
.” Josh swallowed rapidly.

“Where’s this warehouse located?” Brock’s power slipped
. The building shook with a deep tremor that rattled the walls. Paintings and crucifixes crashed to the floor.

Josh gasped, his face green with fear. “Shit shit shit. Did you do that?”

“If you don’t tell me where Luis is, I’ll do even worse,” Brock promised.

“The warehouse
.” Josh gulped. “It’s like a mile from here. Just take the main road to Rack Drive. It’s the only one there.”

“And Luis will be in there?”

Josh nodded repeatedly, his fear increasing along with his paleness. “Yes.”

“And you don’t know where Roxy is, right?”

“No.” At least that was still true.

He marched out of the same door Carey
Torrent had left and dialed Cyn. “Where are you?”

“Walking up the main street,” she huffed. “For some reason
, I thought walking on this hot day was a good idea. Go figure.”

“Hang on, I’ll be right there. I know where we can find Luis.”

“Where?” she asked breathless, her voice laced with interest.

“A warehouse not far from here.”

“What the hell is he doing at a warehouse?”

“We’re about to find out, love.”

C
ynthia gulped down the bottle
of water and fanned herself. The air conditioner in the SUV had yet to cool down the heat on her skin. Sweat dripped down her spine, sucked into the waistband of her khakis. She yanked on the front of her T-shirt, blowing air into her breasts.

“I can help you out with that, if you need,” Brock offered
, his gaze caressing her breasts.

She laughed.
“What, are you taking lessons from Ramirez on what not to say to women?”

He chuckled
with a shake of his head, his eyes on the road. “Point for you.”

They reached the warehouse in no time. Cyn glanced around the deserted building. Her only thoughts that if Luis was in there
, Roxy might be too.

Brock ran
. He entered through the side of the building, forcing a door open and peering into the darkened corners. The sun had started to go down.

“Come on
.” He hurried down an aisle of empty shelving, his footsteps resounding on the concrete.

She followed closely behind Brock, nerves growing tense with each turn they took. Then he stopped, slowly making his way to a corner so dark she squinted to try to make anything out.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice trembling with concern.

“Luis,” Brock answered, lowering to reach into the corner.

Metal snapped, and then he was lifting the teen boy in his arms.

“Oh my
God!”

Dark-red
patches of blood coated Luis’s body. His torn T-shirt had gone from what she assumed was gray, to burgundy and clung to him. Bruises and cuts marred his face and arms. There was dirt and blood matting his dark hair to the side of his face. She couldn’t tell if he had any active wounds or if it was from before.

“He’s not bleeding anymore, but he’s got severe trauma. He needs a hospital
.” Brock rushed out of the warehouse and put the kid in the back of the SUV, his limp body draped on the seat.

“Who do you think
did this?” Cyn asked, now wondering if her cousin had suffered a similar fate.

Brock
growled. His fingers jammed the key into the ignition, care all but forgotten. “I don’t know, but I bet Josh Landley knows.”

They rushed Luis to the local hospital, weaving through the light traffic to get the boy some help. Once he was in the hands of the emergency doctors, Cynthia turned to Brock. “That boy was left to die.”

Brock stared in her eyes and pulled her in for a hug, tight to his chest. “I know, darlin’. He won’t die.”

They waited until a doctor came out to speak to them.

“How’s he doing?” Brock asked.

Cyn heard the concern in his voice. The kid had been
beaten severely. With anger and probably with the hope he wouldn’t be found alive. Outrage over someone hurting that boy pressed at her already enraged mind. What if Roxy had been killed? Would anyone know? So far Josh Landley had given information on Luis, but that didn’t mean he knew where her cousin was. If he had, Brock would’ve gotten the information.

Such a young girl. Missing. Life could be so unfair.

“He’s got head trauma. We’ve given him pain medication. He probably won’t wake up until tomorrow, though.” The doctor shook his head and shoved his hands in his scrubs. “He’s lucky. If you two hadn’t found him, I’m not sure how badly things would have gotten. Head injuries can be deadly if left untreated.”

“Thank you, doctor
.” Cynthia shook his hand and gave him her card. “Please call me if he wakes. We need to know who did this to him.”

The doctor nodded
, shoving her card into his pocket, his hands lingered in them. “I’ll have the staff watching him, and we’ll call you if anything changes.”

They returned to the SUV with purpose. “We need to speak to the police. And to Josh
Landley.”

Brock’s eyes glowed with his beast, the lines of his face tight. Feral “
We’re going to find your cousin, love,” he assured her. “You can count on it.”

W
hen they reached the Landley house, they noticed Josh’s car was missing. “Shit.”

It was useless. None of the
Landleys were home. The housekeeper didn’t know where they were either.

Brock drove them to the local police station. A young deputy stood behind a counter.
He played with his cell phone, his gaze snapping up to attention at the sound of their footsteps.

“You’re back,” he said, staring at Brock with curious brown eyes.

“I am. We need to speak to the sheriff.” Brock’s tone demanded immediate attention to an urgent situation.

The deputy’s eyes bugged out.
“What’s wrong?”

“We found Luis
Gomez bound and beaten in an abandoned warehouse.” Cyn fumed. “He should do something about it.” She watched the boy turn to her, anxiety filling his eyes. “Or I will.”

“Ma’am, the Sheriff isn’t here right now—”

“So call him!”

The deputy shook his head. “I can’t. His radio is off. He doesn’t take calls after six pm. He says it’s his family time.”

“Well then.” Cyn turned to Brock. “Let’s go pay him a visit.”

Brock grinned. “I like how you think.”

“Wait,” the deputy called out when they turned to the main entrance. “You can’t just go to his house. He’ll have you arrested. He doesn’t let anyone in his house.”

Brock laughed
, his eyes glinted of his beast. “He can try. In fact, I hope he does.”

Sheriff Kemp
and his family lived near the Landleys. Their home had a pretty picket fence, a bed of pink tulips and a fountain in the center of their front yard along with a really wide driveway. Brock put the SUV in park when Amy Kemp rolled into the driveway next to them in her convertible.

“Cynthia?” She frowned,
her lips pursed into a pout as she glanced back and forth between Cyn and Brock. “Can I help you?”

Cyn blinked. Amy had definitely been out having fun. She wore a skimpy mini dress that showed off her legs. The bust was low enough to show a generous amount of her breasts.

“Hi, Amy. Sorry to come all the way to your home, but we need to speak to Sheriff Kemp.”

“I’m sorry you came all the way out here so late.” Amy
’s voice lowered to a seductive tone, her gaze stuck on Brock. “My husband is out with some friends and won’t be back until later. In fact, this is our solo night.” She grinned at Brock. “We do whatever we want and stay out as long as we want.”

Cyn was two second
s from smacking the other woman into some decency, followed by kicking her ass into common sense. Two seconds. “Thanks, Amy. And you wouldn’t know where we can find him?”

She shook her head. “No, he does his thing
.” She licked her lips. “And I do mine.”

Well,
that was informative in ways she didn’t need it to be. “Okay then. Sorry to have disturbed you, Amy.”

Brock got into the SUV, waving at Amy. “Thanks for your time.”

“Just call if you need anything else.” Amy winked.

“Let’s go before I slap some
respect into that woman,” Cyn growled.

“
We should go to your place. You look exhausted.” Brock backed up past Amy’s convertible. A U-turn and they were on the road.

“Yeah
.” She sighed. “I’m getting hungry too.”

He gave her one of those
‘I’m going to fuck you until your brain is fried’ smiles she loved. “I’ll cook while you shower. Sound good?”

Sounded like he was gunning for her to change her mind about staying with him. Unfortunately for them, her reasons were a lot stronger than
any amount of romance he showed. Stronger than her guilt. She loved him. That was the main reason she did what she did.

She toweled dry, enjoying the smell of whatever Brock was making. He’d always been good in the kitchen. They’d taken turns cooking in the past.

She tied a robe around her waist and headed for the kitchen. “Something smells really good,” she
moaned, walked up behind him and peeked into the covered pots.

She wasn’t prepared for him to
turn, haul her into his arms, and lock their lips together. He flipped them around, until her ass hit the clean counter.

“You smell so good,” he groaned into their kiss, his voice so rough it shot sparks
of need straight to her pussy.

“James,” she moaned
and scraped her nails over the back of his head. “The food…”

“Can wait. It won’t burn. It’s off and ready to be eaten,” he muttered, brushing his lips down to her jaw.
He nipped at her neck and licked his way down to the gap in her robe. “Just like you.”

She inhaled a shaky breath and watched him tug open the knot at her waist, until he could look at her naked body
and slid a hand down to her pussy. “This is what I feel like having for dinner.”

Her clit throbbed. Her whole body ached with need. “Don’t let me be the one who stops you from getting what you want.”

His eyes crinkled, and a wolfish grin spread over his lips. He lifted her with an ease she’d never get used to, sitting her on the edge of the counter, thighs draped over his shoulders. She leaned into the wall at her back. Her breaths rushed in and out of her chest, burning her lungs on their journey.

She gripped the counter under her ass, moaning at the first swipe of his tongue on her pussy. “Oh,
God!”

“That’s it, love. Drench my face with your juices.”

Christ. He rumbled, the vibrations traveling up her channel to curl around her belly. She rocked her hips. Hard. A desperate need to feel him closer shaking her to the core. She wiggled her body, searching for more of his tongue.

“Jesus. That feels amazing,”
she panted. The balls of her feet dug into his back and urged him closer between her legs. As if that were possible. His entire face rubbed on her folds.

He didn’t just li
ck her pussy. He devoured her with his lips and tongue. Up and down. Then he surged a finger into her, curving it and fucking her with it. He sucked on her clit at the same time, thrusting her to the edge. She moaned. Her hold on the counter all but forgotten. She moved restless hands into his hair to dig at his scalp. She bit her lip and tried to tamp down the urge to beg. To order him to hurry it up and make her come.

The finger in her pussy quickened. Her breaths struggled in and out of her burning lungs. Sparks fired in her blood. They created a sizzle that overtook every cell, every pore.

His tongue flicked on her clit faster. Harder. In a combination of sucks and licks, he yanked her control from out of her hands and hurled her to the shattering depths of her climax.

“Oh, God. Oh. My. James!”

Her legs locked and her pussy squeezed at his fingers. Pleasure unwound inside her, shooting like wildfire down her veins. Her hoarse scream echoed around the kitchen, until the only sound to be heard were her moans and harsh breathing.

She glanced down into his golden black eyes, his face wet with her climax. With a quick tug on his T-shirt, she pulled him to his feet and leaned forward. Her lips met his in a blazing kiss. A kiss of need, of passions neither could fight.

She tasted herself on his mouth. It was decadent. Sexy. An instant reminder of what he’d done to her with his lips. Arousal bloomed inside her all over again. She drew his T-shirt up and over his chest. Then she ran her hands all over his chest and down to his abs. Those abs had given her enough wet dreams she knew them by memory. She bit her nails into his abs, scoring him with a bit of pain.

His groan pushed her further. She continued her downward travel and shoved a hand into his jeans. His cock, hard and hot poked at her palm. She held him in her grasp, squeezing just enough to get that growl she wanted.

“Cyn,” he moaned and licked her neck, his voice rough. So rough it was hard to make out her name, but she knew what he wanted. The same thing she wanted. The counter was just the right height for him to fuck her.