Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

Discussing practical details would be so much safer than addressing what really hung in the air between them right now—a killer kiss.

She fell back onto her butt and tossed papers into the cardboard box to be sorted later.

How dare someone invade her life like this, threaten her family? "I can't be sure what's here until I take inventory."

"Are veterinary drugs usable for humans?" He stuck three more nails between his teeth.

"Sure, some of them are major targets for the black market, two drugs in particular.

Ketamine and diazepam—or Valium as it's more commonly known."

He pulled the last nail from between his teeth. "What's Ketamine?"

"Ketamine is used for human burn victims. We use it for temporary, quick procedures."

She settled into the comfort zone of her career. Here, at least, she was in control. "It's effective on cats when we declaw them, also works as an injectible preanesthetic on dogs and cats when mixed with diazepam. Ketamine is a strong hallucinogenic, and wow can you ever tell it when those poor kitties wake up."

"I imagine that has a high street value." He tapped the last nail head flat and dropped the hammer back into the toolbox, along with the fist full of nails clink, clink, clinking into the tray.

"You're right." Rising, she hefted the box up onto the corner of the desk.

He leaned back against the patched cabinet, hands tucked away in his jeans pockets. "Can you think of another explanation for why someone would break in?"

"Besides looking for drugs?" Plenty of reasons, all so scary they made her want to grab the Aztec blanket off the back of the office sofa and ward off the oncoming chill of premonition. "You mean because of Kurt."

"He died before he fingered all of his connections."

"He and his attorney were working to cut deals with the D.A. for a better sentence." And signed his own death warrant by giving those connections time to shut him up permanently.

"If those connections think you have information, they might come after you."

"I don't have a clue about his—" She plopped onto the sofa and forced herself to consider his words. "But of course they don't know that. Why wait a year to come after me?"

"If we knew, we'd have the answer to who did this."

"So we're back to square one and a messy office." We. Ooops. She'd been right to fear leaning on him, because it was beyond easy to think in we terms when Bo Rokowsky strutted into her life with all his quick answers and help.

Would he notice her we slip?

If he did, at least he stayed silent. He just kept those sexy baby blues pinned on her with slow blinking assessment that reminded her of the moment he'd pulled off her glasses to give her a kiss she couldn't afford to remember—but didn't stand a chance of forgetting.

Her lips parted, her lungs suddenly hungry for more air to relieve the building pressure in her br**sts tingling with the phantom sensation of pressing against the hard wall of his chest.

Footsteps sounded outside the office, halting footsteps that brought a welcome reminder she had bigger concerns than sexual frustration.

Seth poked his head around the door, leaning on his cane. "Hey, Paige, Kirstie woke up, nightmares from all this garbage going on. She needs you to tuck her in again."

Paige bolted to her feet. "Thanks, Seth." She shot a glance at Bo on her way out the door.

"And thank you for your help."

The thought of her child's cries squeezed maternal instincts hard with the reminder of the main reason she couldn't afford to shout uncle for even one weak second. Turning her back on Bo and temptation, Paige sprinted down the hall and up the back stairs toward her daughter.

Paige's speeding footsteps echoed in the empty office. Bo shoved away from the boarded-up medicine cabinet, righting a chair on his way to the door out into the reception area.

Who would want drugs and why? In spite of any other theories, the obvious answer was teenage vandalism. Connecting it to Kurt Haugen as they'd discussed was a stretch, although a part of him wouldn't mind laying blame at that bastard's feet. His mind also niggled with possibilities closer to home. He wanted to trust the people in Paige's life, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes folks hurt the ones they loved.

His eyes landed on the two Jansen men behind the reception counter, Vic shuffling loose papers back into files while Seth shoved them into the drawers. The two lumberjack-size guys wore the same face with way different personalities. Vic with his John Deere hat and stoic grief. Seth with his battered fishing cap, cargo shorts and don't-give-a-crap air.