On the Scent (15 page)

Fox pounded his fist against the steering wheel when he realized he'd been made. Quickly, he directed the car to the left—away from where the tinted SUV was traveling—and kept an eye on the sedan that was following
him
now.

Collins and his team were good.

They'd used a decoy, and he'd fallen for it.

He should've taken Collins out at his condo, but when it had become obvious the private detective was planning something, he'd waited to find out what it was.

He should've known better. The pressure was starting to get to him. He was making careless mistakes.

Not good.

He reached into the hem of his jacket and touched the warm metal tucked carefully in his holster and checked the rearview mirror again, noting the sedan had fallen back. Now was his chance to get off its radar.

It was easy enough to lose his tail in the late afternoon congestion on I-85. Once he was certain he was no longer being followed, he called his partner.

“Tell me where they went.”

Hesitation was the initial response. “They were careful not to discuss it inside the house. I didn't hear where they were going.”

The man swore, loud and fierce.

They needed the woman to get inside the vault. Breaking into that facility without the proper help and equipment would be next to impossible with so little time to prepare.

“I think—” his partner said slowly, as if the words were hard to speak “—we might have another option.”

“Tell me.”

“The woman has a friend she cares a great deal about: Sarah.”

“Keep going.”

“Perhaps if we used her, we could draw Hannah out of hiding.”

Maybe his partner wasn't as stupid as he'd begun to believe. “Figure out how we can get to this Sarah. We need to move, and fast.”

“Wow.”

Hannah blinked a few times so her eyes could absorb the awesome sight in front of her. A 15-foot floor-to-ceiling window overlooked a view of the lake, surrounded by trees and a dock that implied the stretch of water was their own private alcove. A giant flat-screen television was angled on the wall in the corner, in front of a set of navy leather sofas. She could feel Zach watching her, so she shrugged and stepped further into the open living room.

She cleared her throat. “This is some place.”

“I think Katie had it remodeled when she bought it. Dammit. Kellan should have mentioned that open window.” He frowned at the uncovered view. “We should go somewhere else.”

“You don't think we're safe?” She glanced around, spotted a control panel on the wall—hadn't she seen something like that on HGTV?—and decided to toy with it and see if her hunch was right. Ah ha. Bingo. She messed with some controls, the room filled with a humming sound, and a set of blinds slowly slid across the window from an unseen alcove. “See? Problem solved.”

His face was still scrunched in a glower. “Kellan said to be sure to check out the back deck.” He dropped their bags to the floor and moved to the back patio doors. His eyes widened. “Oh, yeah. This is a bit extravagant.”

The back deck had been transformed into a tiki bar complete with a roof made of rattan and palm leaves. Tiki masks and totem poles lined the wall behind the bar, and a couple of bamboo loungers faced the railing. A privacy wall divided it from the neighboring condo's deck.

“This place is like a —”

“A mini playboy mansion?” Zach suggested for her, bending to move their luggage. “Some people have too much money.”

Yeah. She supposed some people did. Kind of like she did now.

His body froze in the middle of a lean. “I didn't mean—”

She held up a hand. “It's not like we both weren't thinking it.” A sigh parted her lips. “I'm still getting used to it, that's all.”

The sound of Costello's toenails clambering against hardwood caught her attention, and she turned to focus on the dog. His pudgy body bounced as he ran from room to room, inspecting all of the new spaces. Abbott still hadn't left his carrier, choosing instead to peek out, wary. When Zach dropped a bag beside him, the cat finally tiptoed carefully out of his comfort zone.

“Katie bought it as an investment. She rents it out when she's not using it. She also lets crew members on her show stay here sometimes with their families.”

“That's nice of her.” Two steps led up to the rest of the home. The bedrooms? Hannah decided to investigate, watching Costello dart up the steps. “She must really care about Kellan to loan him this place for us. Do you think I should pay her the rental fee to be fair, or—?”

Zach frowned. “Or what?”

Hannah suppressed a smile. This place was amazing. “She might be trying to score brownie points with him or something. I don't want to throw a monkey wrench in her plans.”

Zach grumbled something she couldn't understand. He had lagged behind. He had one hand buried in his hair, and his eyes looked…furious?

“What's wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head and trudged up the steps slowly. “Nothing.”

Really? It didn't look like it. Hannah let him pass as she thought about the things she'd seen and overheard that might have caused discontent between Zach and Kellan. “You
really
don't approve of his relationship with her, do you?”

He snorted. “I don't condone it, no.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” He turned and repeated with distaste. “It's unprofessional. It'll never last between them. It's—” He stopped himself short, and she couldn't help but wonder what else he was thinking. It was, what? Wrong? Asking for trouble?

Yeah, she'd considered the same arguments. Wondered if the adrenaline and excitement of having a bodyguard was the only reason she felt such a strong attraction to Zach, but she didn't feel the same toward any of the other guys on his team. Then again, she hadn't shared such intimate moments with them either.

She felt closer to Zach than she'd felt to anyone in a long time. Too close. She crossed her arms. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened between us?”

Zach's eyes widened slightly as he turned to face her. “Between
us
?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don't play dumb, Zach.” She softened her voice. “You said some things, when you were drugged. Maybe you don't remember them, but—”

“Oh, I remember enough.” Zach shook his head. “Hannah, I can't get involved with a client.”

She felt her shoulders sag in disappointment. “What about after, when I'm no longer a client?”

He blew out his breath slow and looked away. “Woman, you're killing me.”

So she'd been wrong. He didn't feel anything for her. Lust, maybe, but what man didn't respond to a woman throwing herself at him? A part of her wasn't surprised. Eric hadn't wanted her either, not when everything was said and done. She swallowed and nodded. “It's okay. I understand.”

He swore, low and harsh, and crossed the distance between them. Grabbing her upper arms, he tugged her hard against him. Hannah inhaled sharply as his lips found hers, his kiss possessing a passionate desperation that matched her own. Sliding his hand up, his fingers curled around the back of her neck, pressing her closer—not that she needed persuasion. She wrapped her arms around his middle and opened her mouth, inviting him in.

He tasted as good as she remembered.

Zach groaned. Almost immediately, he pulled away. “Hannah, you're killing me.” He kissed her again, as if he was every bit as reluctant to separate as she was. He took a deep breath and took a step back. “I don't think you understand at all.”

Her head felt dizzy. Drugged. Hannah grasped his arms to keep her balance. “Then maybe you should explain it to me.”

“I want you, badly. But I can't. Not yet. I'm having a hard enough time doing my job without this added to it. Please, Hannah.”

“Not yet?” So he did want her? She sucked in enough air to clear her head as relief soothed her mind. “After this case is over—?”

“All bets are off,” he assured her, his eyes dark and dangerous. Smoldering.

“Then we need to get busy solving this case, don't we?”

His throat moved beneath a swallow as he edged carefully away from her. “The sooner, the better.”

She bit her lip, eyeing him from head to toe. “The sooner, the better.”

He swallowed again and ran a hand through his air. “Alright, then.” Shaking his head, he turned away from her, ducked into both of the bedrooms and said, “Take the room in back. The view isn't as nice, but the brush provides privacy.”

And just like that he was back to business. Mr. Macho Bodyguard. A part of her was disappointed, but the other part understood. He had to focus.

She glanced at the other room. Sweet mercy. There would only be a wall between them at night? That didn't seem like nearly enough to keep her hands off him.

“I'm taking the couch.” He picked up the cat that had followed them. “That way I can keep an eye on the door.”

“Makes sense.” Her hands dug into the back pockets of her jeans. Why did she feel so disappointed he wouldn't be sleeping in the room next to her?

“You should be safe here, Hannah. If anyone had followed us, we'd know it by now. Relax, okay?”

She hadn't realized her muscles were bunched until he pointed it out. Relax? After what had happened? Yeah, right.

She reached for Abbott and then realized what a stupid move that was when her fingers brushed against the muscles of his arm. Tiny zingers of heat and electricity shot through her hand at the contact. The cat groused and she lifted him against her, letting his paws rest on her shoulder.

Zach jerked back as if she'd burned him. “I'll go get the rest of the stuff.”

Hannah ventured into her new room and glanced around. Her lips still tingled with the sensation of Zach's kiss. And they were alone in this secluded place until the person after her was caught. How would she stand it?

Abbott meowed, and she sat him on the bed before sinking down beside him.

She'd start with a cold shower. Hopefully the rest would take care of itself.

Thirty minutes later she came out of her room and found Zach setting up a work station at the dining room table. His entire body froze as he watched her approach, so she glanced down to make sure there wasn't a hole in her shirt or something. She'd changed into a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt but left her feet bare. She was more than decently covered. Why was he staring?

She brushed a hand down her front and cleared her throat. “I thought I'd try to go through some of the old documents I found in Ellie's stuff.” Where had he put that box? Ah ha. There it was in the corner. “Maybe I can find something to help.”

“Sounds good.”

She picked up the box and moved it to the sofa. Call her a gluttonglutton for punishment, but she wanted to stay close to him. She stretched out on the cushions facing him and lifted some documents to read. She'd actually found some old letters amongst Ellie's belongings that she'd never felt comfortable looking at until now. It had seemed like such an invasion of privacy.

Sorry, Ellie, dear, but you lost the right to privacy when you turned out to be a world-class jewel thief.

She lifted a letter and found her gaze straying beyond it toward her bodyguard. What had he meant when he said he was having a hard time doing his job without this attraction between them?

Hannah grabbed her phone, peeked up to see if Zach was watching her, and bit her lip. “I forgot to text Sarah.” Her face warmed at the lie, so she ducked down a little, used her knees to block her view of him.

She pulled up the Internet—fancy that, they had wireless—and typed Zach's name into the search field. Nothing but what she'd already seen. She pulled up the Atlanta newspaper's website and entered Zach's name again.
Bingo
.

An article from October, a little over six months ago, popped up.
Suspect in Ponzi scheme kills self, co-workers.
She clicked on the link and skimmed the details. She was wondering what it had to do with Zach when she stumbled across the words,
“Sources claim Johnson was being followed by a private investigator from the Collins Security Firm, founded by reality television star Zachary Collins. On the day of the shooting, Johnson realized he was being tailed and confronted the investigator before returning to his office in Kirkwood, retrieving a gun and killing two of his co-workers before turning the gun on himself. An official from the Atlanta Police Department said there are no plans to file charges against the private investigator involved.”

Hannah's gaze lifted to the man now seated at the table, typing on his computer. Had Zach been the private investigator involved in the case? There were few details in the article, so she looked for follow-ups. Nothing.

She wanted to ask him about it, but couldn't bring herself to let him know she'd been snooping. Had Zach blamed himself for the shooting? Was that why he'd put himself behind a desk for the past six months like E.J. had said?

Oh, Zach. Surely he wasn't blaming himself?

A deep feeling of sadness for what he must've gone through rushed through her. She wanted to rush over and put her arms around him and—

Zach's mobile phone rang and snapped her out of her reverie.

“What did your contact at Interpol say?” He moved to his feet and started pacing beside the table. He looked so intimidating when he moved. Dangerous. Kind of like a caged panther.

Then again, Costello ambling slowly behind him like a tired, imitating, goofy child kind of ruined the effect.

Hannah cleared her phone and set it aside. She preferred watching him. A few minutes later, he disconnected his call and turned his attention to her.

“We're still waiting to hear back from the agent in charge of the Fox's case. Shouldn't be much longer. Hopefully, once the diamond is back in the right hands and the media gets wind it's been recovered, there will no longer be a need for anyone to come after you.”