“I know.” The shower sprayed behind Shane, sending steam to coat the mirror over the sink. “Torture isn’t a distance game, sweetheart. It’s close and personal—even intimate. Believe me. George told me everything he knew. So I let him go.”
Nausea swirled in her stomach. Who was this man? She shook her head. “I don’t believe you let George go. There’s no reason you’d let him go.”
Shane stepped even closer, his body almost touching hers. “I promised I wouldn’t kill him, so I didn’t. I let him go because he’s seen Nathan. My so-called attorney. He also saw Mattie. If we called the cops, we’d have to explain. There’d be records, and right now we can’t have that.”
“What about Billy?”
“He’ll be discovered.”
“Who are you, Shane?” He stood before her. Naked, strong, and sure. She’d made the claim to Matt that she wanted to keep Shane. But could you keep someone you didn’t know? Once again, she was on the outside looking in. Looking into an incredibly dark world. Shane’s world.
“I’m the guy you married, angel. The guy you love.” His lips took hers. Soft, seductive, so sexy. Teasing and tempting. The coldness fled, to be replaced by heat. He lifted his head, his eyes glittering with hunger.
She shook her head against temptation. Need trapped a groan in her throat. “But George killed Billy.”
“No.” Shane’s gaze dropped to her throbbing lips. “He was as shocked as you by the dead body.”
“He lied to you, Shane.”
“He didn’t lie. Believe me, he told me the truth.” Dead certainty colored Shane’s words. “Interrogation is one of my specialties, sweetheart.”
Her hands went clammy. “So who killed Billy?”
“George was hired by a man named Max. My brothers are trying to find out who Max is right now. Max probably killed Billy, and I promise you, I’ll find him.”
“What file did George want?” Her mind had been spinning and she couldn’t find an answer.
“He didn’t know which file. George was supposed to call his boss once you two were in the office for more direction.”
Darn it. There was no way she could figure out which file everyone wanted. Josie’s head began to hurt. “I have to figure this out.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“No. I will.” Her brain began to click facts into order. “So George failed.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed. “George’s job was to ride the elevator up and down all day, waiting for a chance to get to you. You gave him the opportunity.” Shane’s jaw tightened. “Next time I tell you to stay someplace, you damn well better do it.”
“Or what?”
Shane jerked his head back, surprise flashing through his deep eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You’re always telling me what to do, Shane. I’m tired of it.” She jerked out of his hold. For better or worse, she’d made a vow to him. His world was dark, and maybe she could bring some light into it. Even a little. “I’m tired of you thinking I’m too soft. That I can’t handle myself.”
“So you can handle yourself, can you?” A low warning threaded through his deep tone.
Pinpricks scattered along her skin. She sensed a trap hidden in the innocuous words. But she tilted her chin. “Yes. I can.”
“Good.” His smile could never be considered kind. “Let’s see you handle yourself.” He grabbed her arms, lifted her against him, and stepped into the shower.
“Hey—” she protested as she slid down his hard body and dampened her pajamas.
He pivoted and the pelting spray drenched her back.
Fire slammed into her abdomen. She struggled. “Damn it, Shane.” He wanted to see her skills? Fine. Wounded fingers curled into a fist, which she shot toward his throat.
Shane dodged, allowing the blow to glance off the side of his neck. “Impressive.” One arm wrapped around her bare waist while the other whipped off her top. Her breasts sprang free, her nipples already pebbling with need.
She struggled against both Shane and desire, punching him in the shoulder. Pain ricocheted up her arm.
Shane dropped her to her feet. “If you hurt yourself, I’m going to be seriously pissed off.” He shoved her sopping pajama pants and panties down, lifting her with one arm and yanking them out of the way.
Oh, this should so not be turning her on. Her breath came faster. Her heart beat harder. Temper battled with need. Her body fought with her mind, with her stubborn will. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Maybe she should aim for his knee. The temptation to knock him on his ass, just once, narrowed her focus into sheer determination.
“Your husband.” He jerked her to him, his body hard against hers. Taking her mouth, his tongue shot past her lips, commanding a response.
A whimper lodged in her throat.
One thick hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head to the position he wanted. He went deeper. His mouth claimed, his tongue possessed. An odd sense of desperation hinted in his kiss.
Without warning, he flipped her around, placing her hands on the smooth tile. His tongue flicked the shell of her ear. “Is your jaw all right?” Rough and hoarse, his voice triggered liquid need to coat her thighs.