Dangerous Kiss (The Layton Family 1)

“Just wait, Kitten, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He hung up on her. Again.

Claire’s fingers itched to throw the phone across the room, but her rational, penny-pinching side intervened. With deliberate care, she placed it on the counter.

“The guy is unhinged,” Jake said.

“Yeah, I think the meth mind warp has set in. I’d give him the damn phone and flash drive if I had them. Why does he want them so badly?” Claire paced away from Jake, her bare feet slapping on the floor.

She stopped when Jake didn’t respond. Intuition kicked in.

He knew something.

“What do you know?” Her gaze locked on him. He returned her look, but his face betrayed no emotion.

“Client confidentiality. I’d tell you if I could, but I can’t.”

She stalked across the kitchen to him.

“This guy is messing with my life.” She jabbed her pointer finger into Jake’s less-than-flexible pecs. “He wants the phone and flash drive enough to kill for them. If you know why, you’d better start talking. There are lives at stake!”

She stared up at his kiss-swollen lips. They stayed immobile. She counted to twenty, silently, and waited for a response. Jake remained quiet.

Claire took a step back. Outrage dominated, but underneath was a nugget of regret for what could have happened if the phone hadn’t interrupted them.

“Get out.”

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s not safe for you to be alone.” Jake took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. She shook her head and turned her back to him.

“So nice of you to care about my safety. Get out.” Unwanted tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks, making her vision blurry.

“No.” He turned her around to face him. His thumb brushed away an escaped tear.

Claire focused on his scuffed boots, pushed his hands away from her face. “Please, just leave,” she said, her voice scratchy.

She stayed rooted as his footsteps receded from the kitchen. The front door’s click announced Jake’s departure. She blinked slowly and bit her lip. A part of her, one she didn’t want to acknowledge, mourned.

Chapter Seven

I hope I never set eyes on Jake Warrick again.” Claire flung a disinfectant wipe into the garbage. “Unless it’s to hear him grovel at my feet.”

Onion cocked his head at Claire and whined before trotting into the living room. No doubt he wanted to escape the heavy lemon scent filling the kitchen. She’d used so many wipes on the counters trying to wipe away the memory of those searing kisses, the room reeked of citrus.

The garbage disposal clanked as she fed it that fateful last slice of pepperoni pizza. She could have tossed it in the trash, but seeing it obliterated satisfied her more. She needed to see it get torn apart. It was a visual reminder of how her heart would have looked if she’d spent any more time in the secret-keeping snake’s arms. Good riddance to the pizza and all other reminders of Jake.

But not the beer. That remained in the back of the fridge. Claire had her limits. She’d demolished a perfectly good slice of pizza, but it was just wrong to dump the beer. Especially when it was her favorite kind, Black Bart Porter. All other signs of Jake’s visit had been removed.

Except for his SUV in her drive.

Peeking out the kitchen’s crisp white curtains, she spied Jake sitting in his SUV. His muscular frame was outlined by the setting sun filtering in his windows. He’d never left.

Earlier, she’d marched outside, rapped on his rolled-up window and tried to shoo him off, but he wouldn’t go. Told her she’d have to call Hank in to arrest him. Then he rolled up his window, leaned back in his seat and ignored her. She’d stomped back inside.

“Big jerk.” She snapped the curtain shut.

Why had she ever kissed him? Hell, why did she still want to?

The shrill ring of her landline blasted the quiet. Claire eyed it warily. Not a lot of good things had resulted from phone calls lately. However, it went against her curious nature to let the phone go unanswered. She crossed to the counter in two steps and picked up the cordless receiver. She shot a quick glance at caller ID and smiled.

“Hey there, if it isn’t Miss Beth Martinez, esquire. Done with work?” She had given her best friend the barest details before going to work on the front door earlier, promising they’d talk more once Beth got out of a client’s deposition.