Erin shot forward in her seat. “Dude, I thought the point of this little dream team was to keep me out of prison.”
“This time, you’ll be there as a visitor,” Derek said drily. “Connor, go with her. Tomorrow morning, I have you scheduled for a visit with May’s cell mate. See if you can get anything else useful out of him. Suspicious behavior before May went missing, anything that could point us in the right direction.”
“On it.”
“What about me?” Austin made a sweeping gesture over his body. “You’re going to sideline your most valuable player?”
Connor decided he didn’t like Austin. Especially when Erin chuckled under her breath at his mock outrage.
“You’ll be utilized when the time comes.”
“Is this meeting over?” Bowen asked.
“Yes, but keep your phones on in case I need to be in touch.” Derek capped the pen and shoved it into his back pocket. “Let the games begin.”
Chapter Six
When Connor walked into his apartment, Erin gave him her best smile. She’d used this particular smile only one other time in her life, and it had ended in her first successful bank robbery, so she felt good about her chances of Connor complying with her request. At nineteen, she’d gotten tired of living in the back of her car and reasoned the bank wasn’t really using that money. Not actively. She’d used this exact smile to gain entry to the bank after hours, tempted the armed guard into the vault with the promise of a quickie, and subdued him with his own nightstick.
“Hey, roomie,” she said from her perch on the windowsill.
Connor stared at her long and hard before striding into the kitchen. She saw what he was holding, though. A plastic bag of groceries, including a gallon jug of orange juice. Her smile widened, which only put a meaner scowl on his chiseled face. “Where did you go after the meeting? I turned around and you were gone. You have to stop doing that.”
“Getting gone is kind of my thing.” She hopped off the sill. “Besides, I had to test the escape route you so thoughtfully made me. My estimation was off by two whole steps in my favor. Good work? baby.”
Connor looked up at the ceiling as if he were praying for patience to drop out of the heavens. It gave Erin a chance to look him over. God, he looked good when he was angry. His wide chest seemed even broader, muscles more pronounced beneath his gray T-shirt. Like she could climb his body and he wouldn’t even notice. His jaw was rigid with tension. Ticking, ticking like a bomb ready to go off. A bomb that would start a glorious five-alarm fire. The image made her shiver. Again, she marveled over the fact that nothing about him made her nervous. She recalled the fear that had careered through her bloodstream yesterday when he grabbed her wrist. Some nerves couldn’t be remedied, but even being around another person this long was a feat for her. Twenty minutes into most acquaintances, she started to get antsy. Afraid the other person would get too close and start feeling comfortable. Comfortable enough to touch her.
Erin took the orange juice out of Connor’s hand and set it on the kitchen counter. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
His green eyes went on alert. “Bad news?”
Erin nodded and hopped up on the counter. Something hot and shivery raced over her skin when Connor’s gaze dipped between her thighs. She became all too aware of how the black material of her shorts molded to her core. Too aware of what he’d do if he got those shorts off her. I’d like to be pounding you full of me, Erin. Full. “Yes, bad news,” she forced past suddenly dry lips. “Polly won’t switch apartments. She can’t. The pigs have already hooked up the high-speed cable and started setting up central command. That’s what she’s calling it, anyway…”
Connor dragged his attention up her body, making her skin feel hypersensitive. “So what’s the good news?”
“I make a pretty decent frittata.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You want to live here? With me?”
Erin nodded slowly. “It won’t be forever, just until they start paying us and I can afford somewhere else. Your spare room doesn’t have a fire escape, but…” She gave her best smile another whirl. “We could switch bedrooms.”
Connor ran a hand down his face. “Erin, you know I want to help—”
“I know. You’re a loner. So am I.” She picked up the jug of orange juice and picked at the label. “I wouldn’t ask if I was brimming with options.”
His laughter was dark. “Being a loner has nothing to do with it.”
She shouldn’t ask the question, especially since she already knew the answer. Too bad playing with fire ran in her veins, a need so thick and heady she couldn’t deny it. Asking was reckless and inconsiderate and inexcusable of her. What else was new? “What does it have to do with?”
Connor took a step into her personal space. Her breath caught, but she didn’t flinch. Not an easy feat on the receiving end of such intensity. “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know.”