Chapter 8

Athena gave the man sitting across from her an unblinking look. She couldn't figure out what the hell his game was. Other than rendering her unconscious, of course, and hauling her ass to…wherever the hell they were, he hadn't harmed her. Hadn't drawn a weapon. Hadn't restrained her from leaving, although she was pretty damn sure he'd strike quick as a snake if she tried. Hadn't made any threatening moves, although he had an air about him that said they lay just below the surface.

Unexpected raw sensuality simmered in the room like a heavy fog, tantalizing their senses.

She sensed danger around him, but, oddly enough, not to herself. Broad shoulders defined a lean body rippling with muscle, and he had the air of a jungle animal, a panther stealthily stalking its prey until it was ready to pounce. Every hormone in her body did a tarantella trying to get her attention. There was an electricity about him, a raw sensuality that made her want to rip off her clothes and his even as she assessed the level of danger in the situation and wondered who the hell this guy was.

Whatever he was doing obviously required a lot of very expensive electronic equipment.

When she'd opened her eyes, her first sight of him had been in the center of a U-shape made with long folding aluminum tables covered with enough stuff to run a small country.

What the hell? Her life was so fucked up, she couldn't remember the last time a man had flipped her switches the way this one did with nothing more than a look and his presence. She had no doubt she could outwait him, but she was getting tired of playing this game. And she wanted to know why he was at Bostic's house. What his axe to grind was.

"Okay." She leaned back and blew out a breath. "Yes, Bostic's money buys him a hands-off policy with the police department. I started keeping a record of how many times he managed to slide through, although I have no idea what to do with it. No one in this town will risk offending him or his megabucks."

"So the cops here are on his payroll?"

"Not everyone," she added quickly, "but enough of the top brass so that he skates on everything."

"Like what?"

"Like the other night, when one of his young interns came into the station to make a report."

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. "She's not the first one he's played games with in his office—rough games, I might add—and I'm sure she won't be the last."

He watched her through narrowed eyes. "So, what happened that sent you scouting in his house?"

"I took the girl into one of the interview rooms to take her statement." Athena's stomach cramped as her thoughts traveled back to the other night. "She was frightened to death, scared no one would believe her. Didn't even bring a friend with her. And she had some pretty spectacular bruises."

"Fuck." The epithet exploded softly.

"Exactly." She shifted in her chair, uncrossing and recrossing her legs. "Anyway, I was trying to be as gentle with her as possible when the chief of detectives and our captain busted into the room and Captain Marcel took the whole thing out of my hands."

"You mean he kicked you out of the room?"

"Worse. He took the young girl away and said he'd finish with her himself."

"Son of a bitch." The man across from her slammed a fist on the table.

"Exactly. I knew the drill. He's done it before. Terrorize the victim, dump a bunch of cash on her, and make the whole thing go away. Not to mention a number of other dirty deals he manipulates." She rubbed a hand over her face, as if she could make the memory go away. "My lieutenant isn't as bad, but he goes along with it. He likes his job, and some of that cash finds its way into his pocket."

"What did you do?" he asked.

"About the only thing I could. I told my LT I was sick of the mess. That I was taking some of my accumulated leave time, and I'd let him know if and when I'd be back."

The man frowned at her. "And he just let you go?"

She shrugged. "What was he going to do? If he made a scene, it would generate too many questions. But he knows I'm at my limit with the situation. I'm a cop, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is, but I'm a cop because I want to help people, not take payoffs and look the other way."

"Grey," he said.

She frowned. "Excuse me?"

"It's my name. Grey Holden."

"Oh." She sat back, studying him. The name suited him. His hair was steel grey—but not the kind that came with age—and his eyes were the color of slate. He wasn't handsome by any means, but he had the most masculine face she'd seen in a long time, with sharp cheekbones and a well-defined jaw. This man was all business. He sure didn't look like a guy who would just blurt out his name. Okay, then. She reached her hand across the table.

"Athena Madero."

When he took her hand in his to shake, a powerful current sharp enough to fry her hair sizzled from her hand along her arm and into the rest of her body. She was glad she was wearing a T-shirt because it made it almost impossible for him to see how her nipples had suddenly hardened and peaked, or catch sight of the pulse she could feel pounding at the base of her throat.

And, surprisingly, a heavy throbbing in the walls of her sex she hadn't felt in much longer than she cared to think.

Who and what the hell was this man, anyway? His grip was firm but not crushing, and was it her imagination that he held her hand a few seconds longer than normal?

"What is it you do, Grey Holden? Military? Mercenary? Soldier of fortune?"

"First, tell me why you were in Bostic's house tonight. Surely not looking for more evidence of sexual abuse."

Athena chewed her bottom lip, trying to figure out how to phrase this. Would he think she was drinking tainted juice if she blurted out the rumors she'd heard? Seeing too many movies?

Watching too much television?

Oh, well, what the hell.