Chase didn’t hesitate. Pulling the trigger, he aimed and fired. The gun exploded and Ashley screamed.
CHAPTER 9
ASHLEY PULLED into the gravel driveway and parked. She stared at the ranch-style house sitting back from the street with the tall juniper trees scattered throughout the yard. Although she’d been here before, she didn’t remember Chase’s house. It looked masculine, solid and secure, just like Chase.
Two weeks had passed since he’d shot her ex, and with the case wrapped up and Danny out of the hospital and behind bars awaiting his trial, life had returned to normal for the most part. Except for the nagging yearning inside her that wouldn’t go away. When she’d returned from lunch to the message that Chase had called, inviting her to dinner, she’d called him back without hesitating. All she’d been able to do was leave voice mail.
She hadn’t seen him in several days, since he’d flown to New York, but it seemed a lot longer. One look at his face when Chase answered the door and stepped to the side so she could enter and she knew he felt the same way.
“You’re late,” he growled.
“I got off work late,” she lied.
“You were off work at five.” He closed the door behind her and then wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her backside against his chest. Chase lowered his mouth to her neck, his breath instantly torturing her oversensitive flesh.
Just knowing she’d see him tonight had created a pressure inside her that refused to subside, no matter how much she dwelled on mundane paperwork. The smoldering need exploded into a fiery craving that stole her breath.
“Don’t torture me and make me wait for you,” he growled.
“I didn’t know what to wear,” she confessed, rubbing her hands down the sundress she’d opted for after changing clothes too many times before heading to Chase’s house.
“I don’t like your choice.”
“Really?” She couldn’t turn her head far enough to see his face.
“Nope. It covers way too much of you.” He took the spaghetti strap off her shoulder with his teeth and tugged on it.
Ashley tried turning but stopped at the sound of fabric tearing. “How did your case go?” she asked, needing something to ground her. If they talked about work maybe they wouldn’t be tearing each other’s clothes off right at the back door.
“I don’t know. I came home.”
“What? You walked off the case?” She did turn then, and her strap ripped free from the material stretching over her breasts.
Chase’s gaze darkened when he released the fabric from his mouth and stared at her chest. He reached for the other strap and she grabbed his hand.
“Tell me you didn’t walk off the case,” she insisted.
He didn’t try freeing his wrist. “I didn’t walk off the case,” he told her, his dark blue eyes glowing like sapphires as he tore into her soul with a predatory gaze. “We came to a mutual understanding. I’m not going to play around with bureaucratic bullshit any longer, and they aren’t going to ask me to do it.”
“What exactly does that mean?” It was hard maintaining his stare with her blood pressure soaring and the throbbing between her legs pulsing so hard cream soaked her pussy.
Chase freed his hand from her grip and headed into his house, leaving her to follow him. They entered his kitchen where a glass pan filled with bubbling lasagna was on the top of the stove. A loaf of French bread had been cut on a cutting board and a bottle of wine sat on the counter. She glanced farther into his house, spotting a small dining room table, set beautifully with a white tablecloth, and decent-looking china. Two long thin candles burned in the middle of the table. Chase had a domestic side she’d never dreamed existed.
“It was an amiable parting,” he explained, running his hand through his black hair and tousling it around his face when he glanced at her. Then taking the bottle of wine, he wrapped his arm around hers and guided her into his dining room. “I’m not cut out to bring in criminals who break every rule in the book while following a meticulous set of guidelines that trip me up every time I turn around. I could have busted that guy in a matter of hours after arriving in New York if I hadn’t had to wait two days for a judge to get around to signing a damned piece of paper.”
It was a common frustration many law enforcement men and women voiced in her line of work. Ashley didn’t say anything as he pulled out her chair for her and then scooted her toward the table after she sat. He popped the cork and poured wine into two glasses.
“I’ve submitted my resignation,” he said.
“You have? What will you do?” She spoke to his back as he strolled into his kitchen, returning a minute later with oven gloves on his hands as he placed the lasagna on a wicker mat in the middle of the table.
Chase didn’t answer but left her again, returning with the bread. Then sitting opposite her, he took her plate and dished food on to it. After doing the same to his own plate, he then set it in front of him and lifted his wine glass. She lifted hers, watching him as their glasses clinked together.
“There’s a man I’ve known for a few years out in California,” he began, not making a toast but instead bringing his glass to his lips and sipping. “He’s helped me out a few times over the years with one case or another. Ash, he nails the perp by his own set of rules, and it’s completely legal. He’s licensed, earns a decent living, and takes cases as they appeal to him.”
“A PI?” She lifted her fork when he did and then sliced into what looked like incredibly good lasagna.
“No. A bounty hunter.”