Chapter 4

 

It wasn’t noticeable but the left foot of Detective Hunter Blake was tapping an annoyed tattoo on the floor under his desk as he waited for the damn phone on his desk to ring.

The Charlotte-Mecklenburg PD officer was agitatedly waiting for the call to tell him what exactly Ares Inc was, and with every moment that passed his glaring at the silent black landline increased. Oh, how he wanted to smash the goddamn thing into the wall.

“If you glare at it anymore it might just burst into flames.” An amused voice, accented with a chuckle, said from behind him. “What happened? Did it jump up and bite you in the face or something?”

"Go to hell Frank," Hunter nearly snarled while pushing up from his chair as he swiftly meandered around cluttered desks and blue-clad officers towards the coffee machine in a corner.

God knew he hated this stuff but its artificial acrid taste was the best thing to cancel the natural one in the back of his throat. The reason for his disgust; five days had gone since he had been placed on the Al-Habar’s case and up to this present moment he had found nothing; nada, zero- zilch.

Every lead they he had followed, even the ones graciously given from her lawyer’s office, had fizzled out into thin air. Hunter had gone through and double checked almost everyone that had the means and motive to frame Keisha. Her accountant was clear, her building manager was clear and even her grocery courier service was clear, leaving him with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, was she that good? His detective mind didn’t let it pass, as he had seen many pretend to be absolutely innocent but were in fact, the mastermind behind it all.

He was getting nowhere which amounted to losing and if there was anything the sharp-eyed twenty-eight-year-old despised it was losing.

The only solid lead they had to go on was the company called Ares Inc in Greece, which he was a hundred percent sure had a link back to somewhere in the good old USA.

But up to now the tech monkeys that were assigned to the ferreting the damn thing out, were still not giving him anything and that irritated him.

Other cops skirted him because they all knew that look on his face; it was the one where he wanted to put his fist through something, and that something was probably the bastard who was framing Keisha. Glaring darkly into his cup he had to force out a low sardonic chuckle, Keisha.

God, she was something else.

The moment she had answered the door in her bathrobe, a slinky slip of nothing that barely hid her body, Hunter had known there was much more to the young billionaire than expected.

When she had come out of her bedroom a few moments later he had expected the smooth confident hip rolling walk and the collected air she graced them with. A woman in her position had a lot to be comfortable with.

The figure her flattering clothes presented hadn't passed him either. Her top hadn't hidden her perky rounded breasts that obviously weren't held up by a bra and her jeans hugged her narrow waist, curved hips, and plump backside beautifully.

Her hair was an attractive mess around her shoulders and her golden skin tone seems to both absorb and reflect the light from above. But, if there was one thing about her that grabbed his attention, it was her eyes.

Her hazel orbs were steady and didn't flinch when she heard what was against her. In a complete opposition to the natural reaction or panic, they took on an analytical light, one that meant she was calculating every possible option. That had scored some points in his book.

She had taken all the information in stride and responded to all her questions with a cool, collected and seemingly detached demeanor, which would make any cop who was worth his salt suspicious.

Another thing that was suspicious was that she hadn’t looked at him much. When she did, it was with a fleeting glance that shifted away in less than three seconds.

It was only after five minutes inside he realized that she was deliberately not looking at him that meant that either he reminded her of someone she loved, missed or hated or… she was fighting attraction.

Hedging on the assumption of attraction he was proved right after she had called him out on his cynicism he saw the tiny flare in her nostrils and the slight flush on her skin.

Oh, she was aroused alright but what shot her points through the roof was her iron clad control… that held up until they parted at the door. Her posture, look and tone all screamed what was going through her head and Hunter had to force himself to be professional.

As soberly as he could he warned her about not taking any chances and couldn’t hold back a grin when she blatantly told him about how she knew her way around a Glock.

Leaving, his estimate that there was much more to her than that was perceived was proven right just the next day.

He had spotted her unmistakable form leaning on the coffee joint’s serving table with her tempting backside out like a target. He would be lying if the round globes of her ass didn’t make his gut tighten but he forced himself to concentrate on what she was doing.

When the server came to her with the tall cup of that particular type of coffee, he couldn't resist, "Irish Coffee… you really are a ball-buster, aren’t you?”

It was with vicious pleasure he saw her stiffen before easily accepting her foodstuff and turning to him. Her expression was cool but her eyes were dancing with mischief as she called him out.

In the next fifteen minutes, the unflappable ex-Marine had gotten a first-class seat into her psyche. The woman was indubitably brilliant. Her mind could twist and turn in new pathways at the drop of a hat and the cool and collected way she had dissected him was more of a turn on than if she had stripped naked and danced on his lap.

God damn, he wanted her and there was no doubt that behind the heavily guarded look she held she wanted the same. The night in the bar only heightened it. Her eyes were wide and open in invitation and her plump lips were a temptation that the even the most pious saint would have trouble turning away from- but he did.

Maybe it was his masochistic self that wanted the tension between them to grow to a breaking point until neither could take it anymore.

Frowning into coffee that the taste of mud he took one more sip before going back to his desk. The moment he got to the wooden desk the phone rang and he startled so hard the burning fluid scorched his hand.

“Son of a-” He grunted before snatching up the phone, “Blake.”

“Um, Detective Blake?”

Hunter didn’t even stop himself from rolling his eyes, “No, you’re connected to the sparkling tooth fairy.”

The voice cleared his throat, “Jackson from Cyber Crimes unit sir, I have something I think you’ll want to see.”

Though his initial reaction was relieved to have some sort of break, it didn’t stop him from drawling a scathing, “Finally.”

Shaking the rest of the drops from hand Hunter grabbed his jacket and his left the bustling room and took the hallway down to the air-conditioned lair of the technocrats.

Even though a hardened part of him still had its doubts about Keisha a large part of him really wanted to believe that she was innocent. As he walked his chest was building with the anticipation that they had found someone he could haul into the interrogation room to prove his desire for Keisha’s innocence was right.

All his colleagues knew that Hunter didn’t hide the fact that he loved the thrill of cuffing a lowlife and digging in so deep that they had to spill their guts. The urge was true, but he only allowed them to see that half.

The reason he went all out was the very same as the one why he had joined the Corps; it wasn’t the issue of taking criminals off the street, it was more of serving justice to those they had deprived of it.

He didn’t even knock on the door to the Cyber Crimes unit; he just walked in and paused momentarily to blink the cold air away from his eyes. A man in the corner looked up and gestured him over.

Hunter was a little surprised to see that Jackson was a little different from the textbook nerd. Yes, his clothes were simple and a bit crushed but his face didn’t sport the awkward and reticent look of most geeks. His sharp blue eyes were not hindered by glasses either and he had a slight tan.

“Detective,” Jackson said easily while tapping a few keys, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Hunching beside him Hunter squinted at the screen, “Please tell me you found this stupid scumbag.”

“Actually,” Jackson said factually, “Whoever he is, he might be a scumbag but he isn’t stupid. We’ve hacked into Ares Inc only to find there’s a legion behind it. I mean that account splinters into ten and each of those ten splits into another ten and those te-”

“Breaks into more,” Hunter almost snarled, “It’s a daisy chain.”

"Yes," Jackson said, "…. But I did find out was that the original fund lodged into the account was from a Bitcoin account but the other deposits were in cash. The cryptocurrency account was dissolved but I noticed that the account was frequently checked on electronically and I traced that IP address to a comp in University City, 34 Ogden Rd, and Nash."

Hunter's eyes widened a bit and then he grabbed a sticky note and a pen and scribbled the address on it, "Jackson, if this works out, I owe you a drink."

Not even waiting to hear the guys reply as he ran out the door while calling dispatch. He rushed to the squad room and grabbed his vest just before the chief hollered that his backup officers were ready.

Grabbing his vest Hunter raced off heart pumping in preparation to grab this bastard.

 

*****

Keisha dumped her handbag and briefcase in the nearest section of her couch and used the arm to brace herself. With one hand on the arm, she reached behind her and tugged off the heel of her left shoe and massaged the sole.

She repeated the motion with her other shoe and then slumped into the couch almost boneless. She tilted her head back and groaned. Today had been a day that had originated from the last sulfurous pit of hell. The market had slumped more than ten thousand points and each of her agents was bulldozed with dozens of pissed off clients.

These were the days that made her wonder what in hell had made her go into this business. Sure, there were days when everything ran smoothly and paid off but the days when it was off, they were hunted and screamed at.

Sometimes she wished she could just slap a ‘don't shoot the messenger' sign on the firm's door, but if she still wanted her customers the delicate art of soothsaying came in.

It was a hard job holding back their own tempers while trying to calm others but eventually, their forced calm had paid off.

Tonight, though she needed to work this tension off and that meant either running it off in the gym or shooting blanks through a paper target at the nearby range. After a moment she decided; shooting and thank God Blackstone Shooting Sports was open late.

Pressing her fingertips against her temples Keisha massaged the skin there while taking in deep breaths. After counting her breaths to a hundred Keisha stood up and went to her room to change.

She donned a pair of dark sweats, thick tank top, and hard soled shoes before liberating her gun from the safe drawer in her room. She then went to the kitchen and grabbed a Red Bull and two protein bars and popping the can grabbed a jacket, her keys, and her purse and left the house.

It was crawling to nine when she pulled up into the parking lot. She pulled her hair into a sloppy ponytail and munched on a bar. Grabbing her gun and wallet she left the SUV and walked straight into the lobby and passed the security guard.

The lone receptionist was there, kicked back with his feet up with his eyes closed and bobbing his head to the music coming from the oversized headphones over his ears.

Slightly annoyed she slapped that table hard enough to jolt him out of his trance and he shot up with slightly frightened eyes. Slowly she arched an eyebrow and waited till he took the earphones off.

“Um, sorry, hello, welcome to Blackstone,” he shot a look to the gun placed on the counter, “Okay, I’m assuming you’re a member so may I get your name and see your card, please?”

“Keisha Al-Habar,” she said a bit stiffly and presented her card. “I’d like an hour, thanks.”

After swiping her card and while shooting a look to her and imputing her details on a sheet he said, "Okay, you might want to renew your membership soon, your card expires in nine days."

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Keisha added while looking at his nametag, “I need some three rounds of blanks though Kyle.”

Kyle whistled lowly, “Three rounds, damn, someone pissed you off, for which gun?”

“Glock 19,” She replied while tapping her nails on the steel counter with slight impatience.

Kyle crossed behind him and opened a case and then took out a cartridge of blanks and swiped her card once more, “It’s all good, go ahead.”

Nodding, Keisha took the card and moved to the entrance door at the side that led to the various ranges.

She stepped into the long rectangle room with the singular cubicles. The harsh glaring white LED light above reflected off the white tiles and was slightly painful to look at some particular angles.

She grabbed a pair of sterilized goggles and earmuffs and put them on before attaching a paper target to the line and wheeled it out. As she was doing so her ears took in a string of quick hollow echo of shots from down the corridor. Obviously, someone else was working off their own steam.

Focusing on her own target Keisha loaded her gun, perfected her isosceles stance and started shooting.

She made sure to aim for the head instead of the chest and before she knew it a full round was spent and without missing a beat loaded the second.

Another target was loaded and that one was shot through entirely. Keisha was so caught up in working her anger off she was barely aware of someone approaching her.

It didn’t matter; she loaded the last round and shot through it in the same way. It was only when a hand tugged her earmuffs off she spun around with her gun raised with the clear aim of cold clocking the person only to meet the dancing eyes of Hunter.

“Calm down Little Sharp Shooter.”

Keisha snorted and tugged her goggles off, “You shouldn’t do that. I could have broken your nose.”

Hunter leaned on the partition with his arms crossed over his chest. Keisha ran her eyes over him and blatantly let her admiration for his tight t-shirt and camouflage print cargo pants that he wore show.

While cleaning her gun she asked, “It’s sad; I can’t accuse you of following me because you were here first. Have some gun evaluations coming up or are you just perfecting your bullseye?”

"Working off steam, actually, just like you clearly were," Hunter said while reeling in the shot through target and whistled, "Seven headshots and five to the chest; boy, you're angry."

Not even looking at him Keisha checked the slide and ran the soft cloth over it again. “I have a right to be, don’t you think?”

“Can’t fight you there,” Hunter replied as he traced over Keisha’s profile.

With her body now defined by her tight tank, he ran his gaze over her bust and down her flat abdomen. Her firm shoulders led to a firm back that curved to her butt.

"You know," Keisha said idly while tugging her ponytail out, "whenever you're ready to stop staring at my ass, I'd like to ask you a question."

“And why would I do that?” Hunter asked leaning into her with a sly smile, “It’s kind of a focal point.”

Keisha shot an eye at him, "Get serious, it can't be a coincidence that we're both massacring paper. I have my reasons, what's yours?"

Hunter didn’t move his gaze from hers and this close the tension that was always between them unfailingly sprung up. This close Keisha could smell his musky cologne and see the light five o’clock shadow on his chin. His rugged look only made her attraction strengthen.

In the back of her mind, she saw herself with her hand braced on his chest and her mouth at his jaw nipping at the small bristles of his chin until her lips got puffy and tender.

Hunter’s jaw worked for a moment before he sighed, “I can’t tell you.”

“Which is code for, ‘something happened on my case which you didn’t want to happen’,” Keisha replied, “Its’ all in your eyes.”

“Are you sure your major was business and not psychoanalysis?” Hunter snorted softly.

"Pretty sure," Keisha replied while ruffling her hair. "But in the boardroom, you have to sense people and I caught on pretty quick."

The ex-Marine reached over and took her gun from the rest and slid it into its leather case before handing it to her. “Do you want to get out of here? There’s a Mexican place just down the road that had awesome tequila.”

“Trying to get me drunk isn’t going to work.” Keisha returned carefully. “I’ll still spin your head in circles.”

"I'm terrified," Hunter's retorted with a roll of his eyes as they reached the lobby, "I was going to go there anyway, just thought to offer it would be a nice gesture, or is chivalry really dead."

"In my history, yes, it is," Keisha answered as she donned her jacket and walked out into the cool night air.

The brisk breeze that immediately sprung up and buffered her body made Keisha smile; she had always loved the cold.

“What’s that smile for?” Hunter asked while in step with her.

“Nothing passes you, does it?” Keisha replied as she sidestepped a couple walking arm-in-arm in the opposite direction.

“Collateral damage from my training,” Hunter replied. “Sixth sense if you believe in all the foolishness.”

“My grandmother was a Deaconess in her Baptist Church.” Keisha replied, “She felt things, saw things and knew things; a sixth sense is real.”

"If you say so," Hunter shrugged as they came to an inroad that led to a low one-story building where red and yellow light was coming through the windows. Soft cultural Spanish music was heard as they neared the door and in a chivalrous gesture, Hunter opened the door for her.

“No points.” Keisha quipped while removing her jacket and taking in the warm and fragrant air.

“Aw, damn, and here I was hoping you’d give me a cookie.” Hunter returned sarcastically while leading to a corner table.

“That’s the worst pun I’ve ever heard,” Keisha deadpanned before looking around, “So what’s good in this place?”

Hunter sat forward with his arms braced on the checkered clothed tiny table between them and then tilted his head to the side, “It’s all good, real traditional stuff, no cliché tacos, burritos or nachos are served here.”

Keisha knew he was daring her and to meet his eyes and not only did she meet them but held the gaze. “So, use that same sixth sense that you don’t believe in and order for me. Get me something good.”

Keisha’s voice had dipped low and the dark pupils of Hunter’s eyes had widened to the point where only a bare sliver of green was left.

“The Caldo tlalpeño soup then, “Hunter’s voice had slipped to a smooth drawl, "It's filled with a lot of peppers, perfect for a spitfire like you."

Keisha laughed lowly and pulled back, “And you?”

With the tension lessening from her retreat Hunter sat back too, “I usually go for the Pescado Zarandeado.”

The young mogul delicately wrinkled her nose, “Fish?”

While gesturing for a server Hunter smirked, “What did fish do to you?”

“I just hate the smell,” Keisha murmured while taking a good look at her surroundings.

The restaurant was styled like an old Mom and Pop seventies place with a decided Latin American feel. An old jukebox was in the corner and there were red tiles on the floor. The walls were clothed with cheery yellow with paintings of sea vistas on the walls. Carefully cultivated palm trees formed some partitions between some seats and sections.

“Maybe we can just get finger foods, would you prefer that?” Hunter asked while twisting his head over his shoulder.

“Yes.” Keisha replied the lowered her lids just to look at him. The silence stretched for a moment until Hunter said, “What?”

"It's…you." Keisha said plainly, "It's like you're two different people but still you at the same time. The soldier in you scanned the room looking for emergency exits and vantage points but sitting with me, you're all relaxed, like just another regular guy."

"That's because I've mastered the art of separating the cop Hunter from normal Hunter. Without that, I couldn't sleep at night." Hunter admitted with his eyes dimming a little before he shrugged, "Admittedly, they do overlap sometimes."

A smile tugged at Keisha’s lips as she accepted and related to what he had just said. Most times she had to push business Keisha to the back of her mind too.

Her eyes then traced over the fall of his hair on his forehead and his ear, the firm set of his jaw and the curls of the dark strands against his neck. It was there she saw it, a long thin scar coming from behind his left ear to his collarbone.

“My God.” She slightly gasped.

Her sharp intake made Hunter snap to her with an arched eyebrow and a mildly curious look on his face, "Um, come again?"

“That scar,” Keisha replied as she unconsciously reached up to let her fingers hover over the skin. “It looks like someone tried to cut your head off.”

To her surprise, Hunter took her hand and pressed it against the scar, "Someone did try, he didn't succeed though."

With light and fleeting fingers, Keisha traced over the healed abrasion while feeling Hunter's eyes latched on her skin. The feel of his warm skin under her touch and his deep gaze were so deliciously unnerving. It took everything in her to not squirm in her seat.

“Ahem?”

Dragged out of the loophole of time they had placed themselves in both Keisha and Hunter broke away and looked at the level eyes of the waiter who looked faintly amused.

“Buenas tardes,” he nodded hand over a notepad poised to take their order “Have you decided? There’s a house special on ceviche and chipotle, les gustan?”

“Uh, no,” Hunter shook his head slightly, “I think we’ll stick to a platter of empanadas and some churros after, with some té helado, thanks.”

“Claro,” the man said and walked off.

"Before you get an aneurysm, I just ordered some small meat filled patties, sweets, and iced tea," Hunter said.

"But you hate sweets," Keisha replied evenly.

“But you don’t,” Hunter shrugged while reclining in his seat and fiddling with a red napkin, “Besides; my mother tried her best to train me into a gentleman.”

“Tried as the operative word, a training which most of which probably went to the dogs,” Keisha teased.

A broad hand pressed on a strong chest, “Ouch, you cut me deep.”      

With all the deep arousal between them, it was slightly unexpected for them to fall into comfortable banter. As the night passed Keisha found herself getting to know Hunter.

Between bites, he had shared some memories growing up in the concrete jungle of Chicago until his mother had moved them to Georgia and then to North Carolina. Hunter had bounced around a lot and only really settled when he had transferred to a local high in his senior year.

Immediately after graduation he had enlisted himself in the army, became the soldier after an honorable discharge went on to be the officer of the law he was today.

Keisha, in turn, had told him about her childhood and her adolescent years, skipping over some key points –or people- in her college years and culminated in where she was now.

When the plate of fried churros arrived, Hunter had taken one up and held it out to her in a blatant dare. Keisha knew he was pushing her borders to eat it from his hand and knew he was betting that she would shy away.

And that was exactly why she, holding his eyes, leaned forward and opened her mouth. Slowly she bit the treat down to his fingers and feeling naughty nipped his fingertips before pulling back.

Hunter’s eyes had gone dark. After the third one was done in the same way he had leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Let’s go before I forget we’re in public.”

The walk back to the shooting range’s parking lot was with both decidedly closer than they had gone their earlier. Their arms brushed and they made no pretense to ignore the charged air between them. It was a mutual realization; they both knew they wanted the other.

When they got to her car Keisha was tense enough to grab him. The moonlight above highlighted some of his face and shadowed the rest.

"Why are we doing this?" Keisha asked pitching her tone softly while looking up through her lashes at Hunter.

"Doing what?" Hunter asked calmly.

"This... game," Keisha replied tightly. Even though the next words fit her too she was just going to phrase like it was pertained only to him, "You want me; I know you want me so why are you holding back?"

Lids lowered over green eyes, "It's not allowed. You're under my protection, if I got involved it would compromise the whole thing. I'd get removed from the case, probably suspended and you will have to wait longer for the investigation to be completed and by then the prosecution might drum something up to really send you to prison. "

"That’s real but I’m calling bullshit," Keisha replied not afraid to let her determination show, "You're not afraid to break rules so tell me the truth."

"Can you handle it?" Hunter asked darkly.

Keisha hesitated for a moment; "Yes"

He gently pushed a pliant Keisha on the door of her car, caged her head with arms, placed a leg between her thighs and pressed his forehead to hers. Keisha's breath was stuck in her as she was drowning in his hooded eyes.

"I’m holding back because I want you to want me to the point where you won't say no," Hunter replied his voice dipping to deep and lust laden as his thigh inched up and pressed against her mound. "You were brave tonight, I’ll give you that but I want you to burn, Keisha. I want all that cool control of yours gone and the real aching need behind it to beg me to take you…”

The cocoon that separated them from the rest of the world got even tighter and filled with brimming lust.

"…. To make you scream for me…over and over again.” Hunter let out a soft breath over her lips and then whispered a mere inch from her mouth, “… I'll see you soon, Keisha."

She was boneless against the car while watching him walk away and swallowing over her dry throat felt like she was trying to ingest a flint rock.

How she got home that night was still a mystery.