Hold on to Me by Linda Winfree Read Free Book Online Page B

reading.”
    He pulled out the chair cater-cornered and closest to hers, an old interrogator’s trick. She flicked a glance at him and shifted to the farthest edge of her seat.
    “So how’ve you been?”
    “Fine. Thank you.”
    “Busy?” He leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. He stretched his legs, crowding hers a little, forcing himself into a semblance of casual relaxation. “Probably had to drop a lot of things to come down here.”
    “Not really.” She scratched a note on a legal pad, her knuckles white. “I’ve been out of the field.”
    That surprised him. She lived for the damn job. At one time, he’d been fully prepared to take a backseat to that drive of hers, as long as they could be together. “Why?”
    Her Montblanc pen faltered, ink smearing on the paper. She dropped it and looked up, her eyes cool and shuttered. “Did I miss something, Calvert? When did we agree to play twenty questions?”
    He smiled, the “aw-shucks-good-ol’-boy” one he used whenever he had to worm his way under the defenses of a local suspect. “You said it, Falconetti, we have to work together. I’m just playing nice, making conversation.”
    “Try selling that line of bull to someone who’ll buy it.” Her hands were in her lap now, but he’d bet his next pack of smokes her fingers were wound into fists. The whole line of her body screamed with tension and the need for escape. How many times had he seen that posture on a perp? “You’re digging.”
    “That implies you’re hiding something.”
    She pushed her chair back, obviously preparing to flee. “Hiding something? You’re deluded—”
    “What is it, Cait?” He grasped her wrist, holding her in the chair with a light touch. “What the hell happened while I was in Mississippi?”
    “Let go.”
    “Tell me.”
    “Don’t touch me.” They stared at one another, the power struggle pulsing to life, growing and twisting between them. “I mean it, Tick, let go or—”
    “Or what? You’ll slap a sexual harassment suit on me? Ruin my career?” He leaned forward, ready to call her bluff. “Go for it, precious.”
    The endearment he’d only ever used with her slipped out and her eyes widened, darkened. She moistened her lips and tugged against his hold. “You’re hurting me.”
    Not physically. He wasn’t holding her tightly enough to do that, but he released her. She had a trapped, hunted air about her now and grim satisfaction curled through him. Oh, yeah, she was hiding something. If he could just find the weak point, break through that damn control of hers…
    “I’d never hurt you and you know it.”
    “Stop.” Her voice trembled and his chest tightened.
    “Not until you—”
    “Until nothing. We’re colleagues, Tick,” she said, cold dismissal not quite covering the lingering nervousness in her tone. “That’s all.”
    “We used to be friends.”
    And lovers. The words hung in the air, unsaid.
    “Well, this looks cozy.”
    Damn . Tick smothered a wave of frustrated anger. Cookie had the worst timing known to man. Tick straightened, making sure his expression was blank before he looked around at the other man. Cookie’s face was a study in smooth guilelessness that didn’t fool Tick for an instant. Jeff stood slightly behind him, a small frown creasing his brow.
    Tick crossed his ankle over his knee. “Falconetti’s been looking through Amy’s diary.”
    Jeff pulled out a chair at the other end of the table. “Bet that’s a hell of a read.”
    Rounding the table to the seat opposite Tick’s, Cookie grinned. “Anything interesting?”
    “A record of her sexual conquests.” Caitlin held out the diary. “Look for yourself.”
    Cookie leaned forward to take it, his attention dropping to the scooped neckline of her T-shirt and the hint of cleavage exposed. An urge to smack him on the back of the head barreled through Tick. The guy was his friend, a crack investigator, but did he always have to be such a sleaze where