Fuck. Telling himself he was just doing his job, that testing her to see if she betrayed the department’s confidence to a near-stranger, made him feel worse, not better. He should have sat on his hands, not touched her like he had a right. She was savvy. Sharp. Playful. And she worked her ass off. Without makeup she looked like a girl he’d still do a double take at because the intelligence, humor, and kindness were easier to see. In jeans and a T-shirt, her face scrubbed bare of makeup, he wanted her more, not less.
He was lying to her. Bald-faced lying to her about who he was, why he was in her club, what he did. No one knew about Eve’s plans to buy the building behind Eye Candy. She was smart to keep that close to her chest, because any interest would drive up the price. But she didn’t have the money to buy the building, and almost no chance of getting a commercial mortgage.
To Hawthorn, this was going to make Eve look like a really bad risk. Hawthorn hated risks, managed them obsessively. In pursuit of his goal of shutting down the Strykers, he’d be as ruthless with Eve as Lyle was.
Impressions flashed through him as he drove. The way she ground against him was about as satisfying as a lap dance at a strip club, all teasing, simulated action, no release. The hot, sweet weight of her body against his, firm breasts against his chest, the pebbled tips of her nipples between his fingers, her hips rocking against him. Eve would take it slow for a little while, but it wouldn’t be long before she’d expect more from him, details, stories, a connection. He’d give it to her. He’d done it before in undercover operations. He did what he had to do to build trust, without a thought of betraying it because what mattered was justice, the department, getting the bad guys. Hell, he’d used people on the periphery before, gotten dirt on someone he could flip for the prosecution, cozied up to women with information, walked away without a second thought. The simple fact was that he wasn’t paid to be honorable. He was paid to solve cases by whatever legal means necessary.
This was different, because Eve was different. He’d known her for less than a week and already he didn’t want to walk away.
That option had closed to him the moment he walked through Eye Candy’s door with Chad Henderson’s ID in his wallet. He needed to let it go, do the task in front of him, and move on, like he always did. That’s what made him the best.
In the flat, inky stillness just before dawn he parked his Jeep on the street in front of the house to avoid blocking in his brother’s modified SUV and sat in the car for a few minutes, letting that thought resonate through his consciousness. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel his heart jump when a woman walked in the door, butterflies flutter in his stomach when she smiled at him, brutal lust surge and sweep to the very edges of his skin. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel, period.
Across the street, his house, a ranch with dormers, three bedrooms, and a bath he’d enlarged and refitted himself to meet Luke’s needs, sat dark and silent. Even from the Jeep he could hear the AC unit grinding away in the backyard. The neighbors now gave him pointed glances when he saw them. He’d inherited the house when his parents died, and the HVAC system was original, aging, and until this summer, far down on the list of renovations to make. A friend’s father who worked in construction had recommended a guy who’d give Matt a fair deal for a new unit, even let him help install it to reduce the labor costs. He just didn’t have time to call him.
A bitter sound huffed from his chest. He’d told some truth there. When he wasn’t working he slept and fixed up the house. One truth among so many lies.
He eased out of the Jeep, crossed the street, and let himself in.
“I hope she was worth it.” The raspy voice came from his brother’s room.
“I’m on a case,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
In his bedroom he stripped, tossing the sweat-soaked clothes into the laundry basket in the corner, and glanced at the clock. Almost four a.m. Time for bed. That’s where Eve was, in her bed, all soft and loose-limbed. He, on the other hand, was strung tight and rock hard, exhausted deep down in his soul, but too wound up to sleep.