Genesis_The Dogs of War Prequel Page 10

  A firm touch patted its way down his body, from collar to waist to ankles, leaving no area untouched. He felt the warmth of her body shift behind him as she moved lower, patting down his pant legs. At any point, Aiden could have taken her down with ease, with a single thought, but he allowed her to confirm her safety. And she did it with a commendable thoroughness. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so easy to take her down…The woman stepped back.

  And he missed the feel of her touch.

  “You may lower your hands but no sudden movements.”

  Dropping his hands to his side, he waited for her next order.

  “Turn around. And tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”

  She had re-holstered her weapon, but her hand rested on the butt of the gun, ready. Aiden clenched his jaw, hating the need to lie his ass off. Again. He could give her a partial truth at least. “I was looking for someone. A homeless guy that used to hang around out here. Somebody said something bad had happened and I just wanted to check on him.”

  She cocked her head, her blue eyes narrowing in consideration. “What’s the homeless guy’s name?”

  Aiden didn’t hesitate. “Roman. Older guy, gray beard, usually has a gray hat on. Used to be a librarian.”

  The woman continued to stare at him and Aiden actually shifted in discomfort, before he forced his body to stillness. Roman was a real guy, he just hadn’t hung around in this area for months.

  But did she know that?

  The guy was full of shit.

  Angela Holloway narrowed her eyes and cocked her head, debating whether or not she could take the man in for questioning. Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just acting weird, hunkered down and looking at exactly where all the blood had been. As if he had known where the puddle had been. When he’d first turned around there had been desolate sorrow in his chocolate brown eyes.

  She’d thought he was one of the homeless, with his dingy black sweatshirt and ball cap, but now she wasn’t sure. His deep-set eyes were clear, and he didn’t appear to be under the influence of alcohol or drugs. But he definitely seemed to want to fly under the radar. His clothes were nondescript enough to fit in almost anywhere, especially in Colorado, known for its rugged nature and even more rugged people. He seemed to be decently good-looking, even though he’d tried to hide most of his face with a thick dark beard. Longish nut-brown hair hung over his shoulders. Honestly, he looked like every other Hipster she dealt with every day. The only reason he’d drawn her attention was because of where he was.

  She actually knew the Roman this guy was talking about. An old Vietnam vet who’d been on the streets for at least nine or ten years. As long as she’d been a cop. But he didn’t hang out in this neighborhood and he hadn’t for the better part of a year.

  “Roman stays closer to downtown these days, closer to the Mission so he can get out of the chilly nights.”

  She watched the skin around his eyes tighten and his gaze flick away. He didn’t like that she’d called him on his information.

  “Ah, okay. I’ll go check around there then. Thank you.”

  She stopped his movement with a halting motion. “I’m not quite ready to let you go yet. Do you have ID on you?”

  The dark bearded jaw tightened, and he sighed. “I don’t, actually. I didn’t expect to need it.”

  She frowned. “Did you drive here?”

  “No.”

  “Why don’t you have identification on you?”

  The man glowered, dark brows lowered over his dark eyes. Then, abruptly, his expression changed, and he gave her a sardonic smile.

  Angela registered the change and sighed inside. Damn. He was going to try to flirt? Really?

  For some reason, men always thought they were cuter than they actually were. Time after time she’d had suspects wiggle their brows or roll their hips toward her. When she’d been a uniformed street cop, they’d come at her, hands held out in front of them begging to be handcuffed. Sometimes she’d taken them up on their offer, depending upon how much of a nuisance they became. It had been a running joke in the squad-room. Send in the sweet-faced rookie and she’d haul their asses in. Angela was actually very proud of her arrest record.

  This one actually was kinda cute, though, if a little rumpled. His clothes were dumpy and nondescript, his boots well worn. He had that bored, I-don’t-really-care-what-you-think air, but his voice was really something. Soft and a little seductive, his words enunciated perfectly. If she’d been in a bar, she probably wouldn’t have turned down a drink from him. She might even have let him steal a kiss. She didn’t mind beards, especially when they come with that kind of voice.

  “I just wasn’t even thinking about my ID when I walked here. I only ever carry cash in my pockets.”

  Pulling a pad and pen from her jacket pocket, she lifted a brow at him. “Name, please?”

  The easy going light left his eyes and his chin tipped up. Angela had seen the obstinate look before on other suspects. “If you don’t tell me your name and social security number, I have to haul your ass downtown. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry.”

  Without hesitation, she started to move in on him. “Face the wall and put your hands behind your back.”

  He turned and faced the wall, but it seemed too easy. Angela dropped her notepad and pen to the ground and reached for the cuff-case at the base of her spine. Before she could even swing them around, the man had turned and wrapped his arms around her. She opened her mouth to yell, but his mouth settled on hers.

  Shock rendered her mute. But the anger quickly began to move in.

  Until his lips started to move on hers, and the beard began to tickle.

  Chills shuddered down her spine as the man tightened his arms around her, snugging his hips into hers. She knew she needed to pull away but something besides his arms held her immobile. As his lips moved, she was struck with a sense of familiarity. No, she didn’t know him, but it seemed deeper than that. Like her body recognized his.

  Angela strained against his hold, but he deepened the kiss and she forgot what she’d been doing. The man tasted like sex. Raunchy, pounding, messy sex. And peppermint toothpaste. In spite of what her brain was telling her, her body began to respond.

  And so did his. If she had been the only one affected by what he was doing, she would have noticed that. But he was absolutely interested.

  Turning her, he urged her back against the wall, pressing her hips with his own. Angela gasped at the feel of the hard ridge pressing against her. Somewhat instinctively she pushed back.

  The man inhaled sharply, and the restraint was suddenly gone from her arms. His broad hands cupped her face, angling her jaw as his mouth moved. The tip of his tongue teased at the seam of her lips and she opened to taste him.

  A rush of arousal hit her square between the eyes. Her nipples went hard against his broad chest and things lower in her body tightened, then loosened. His hands glided down her body, cupping her hips.

  She heard the snick of handcuffs and a chill ran through her. When the man pulled away, there seemed to be genuine regret in his dark brown eyes. “I’m sorry I had to do this,” he told her, clearing his voice. He backed away, hands held out.

  Angela felt tightness on her waist and she jerked. What the hell had he done?

  “You, you,” she sputtered, totally, immediately pissed.

  He winced and stared at her for a long moment, like he was waffling in his decision, then his eyes cooled and he turned away. As he disappeared around the corner of the building, Angela reached behind her to feel what was holding her. The man had handcuffed the belt loop of her jeans to a utility pole running horizontal across the building.

  With a cry of outrage she dug in her pocket for the knife she always carried. It took her a minute to cut through the heavy fabric of the belt loop, but she did. As soon as she was able she bolted after the suspect, but he was gone.

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