Mission: Her Defense (Team 52 Book 4) Page 8

  He nodded, grabbed her hand, and together they crouched and sprinted toward the overturned minivan.

  As they approached, he heard a woman’s sobbing screams and a baby crying.

  “Shit.” Blair rounded the vehicle.

  Luke saw the woman in the driver’s seat, hanging upside down and held in place by her seatbelt. Her face was bleeding.

  “Ma’am, I’m with the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police. We’re going to get you out.”

  “Thank God! My baby. She’s crying.”

  “Blair,” Luke said.

  Blair blinked, then crouched down. She tugged on the bent back door, yanking until the metal groaned and the door opened.

  “Uh, baby looks okay. No injuries.”

  “She’s…she’s scared,” the mother said.

  “I’ll get her.” Blair met Luke’s gaze. “You get the mother out.”

  Luke reached in, checking the woman over. “Anything hurt?”

  She pulled in a shuddering breath. “Just the nicks on my face, from when the glass shattered.”

  It took him some time, but soon he unclipped her belt and guided her out. Just as he helped her stand, he heard sirens. Several cruisers and an ambulance pulled up.

  “Everyone okay?” Lachlan strode over, his rifle on his shoulder. Just beyond him, the rest of Team 52 was standing around the black-clad riders. Two were kneeling, but the rest were laid out flat, and probably no longer breathing.

  “Yeah,” Luke answered.

  Two paramedics rushed over to help the woman. After he’d handed her off, he turned, his gaze falling on Blair. He froze.

  She was awkwardly holding a chubby little girl who looked just shy of about one. The baby was sucking her thumb and Blair had her up against her chest.

  “Um, can we give her back to her mom?” Blair asked.

  The little girl pressed her face to Blair’s neck, seemingly content where she was. Blair’s uncomfortable look turned panicked.

  “Mother’s getting checked out.” Luke worked hard to keep his smile off his face.

  “Then you take her.”

  “She looks happy where she is.”

  Lachlan coughed, but Luke was sure the man was trying not to laugh. Blair glared daggers at her boss.

  “Someone take her,” Blair said.

  Lachlan smiled. “You look cute with a baby in your arms, Blair.”

  Taking pity on her, Luke moved closer. He stroked a finger down the girl’s plump cheek. “She’s fine. You’re doing great.”

  “I know nothing about kids.”

  “You comforted her. And Lachlan’s right, you guys look cute.”

  Blair snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “You don’t want kids one day?”

  She blinked. “I work for a covert, black-ops team and like kicking butt. I don’t have time to think about kids.” She looked down at the girl and her voice lowered. “They’re so fragile. They break so easily.”

  Luke heard something in her voice. “Blair?”

  She shook her head and shoved the girl at him. “Here. Get her back to her mom.”

  He watched her another beat before he carried the girl back over to her mother. After a quick check in with the police on scene, he headed back to Team 52.

  “Thanks for the help,” he said.

  Lachlan nodded. “Any time.”

  “You can’t even blame them for all the mess,” Blair said.

  No. Luke had gotten a taste of exactly the kinds of situations the team faced.

  “We’re going to get out of here.” Lachlan lifted a hand to the others and they headed back to their SUVs. “Keep me updated.”

  “So.” Blair dusted off her jeans. “We still going to meet that dealer?”

  “Yeah.” They walked back to his Explorer.

  She eyed the side of it. “The bullet holes add a little something to the paint job.”

  He scowled. It meant he had to fill out a bunch of paperwork. “Get in.”

  “You got any more snacks?”

  He settled in the driver’s seat. “You should be a lot bigger than you are.”

  “I burn it off.”

  He shook his head. “Let’s go, cupcake. I’ll get you a snack on the way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Luke turned off the Strip and into Caesar’s Palace. He parked at the front entrance, flipping his LVMPD parking badge on the dash.

  Blair looked at the casino, and the cluster of Christmas trees all coated in artificial snow at the entrance, and raised a brow.

  “The dealer lives here,” Luke told her. “He plays here constantly. Does most of his sales from a blackjack table.”

  They went inside. The opulent lobby had an ornate ceiling and a large, statue-topped fountain in the center of it. The place dripped in more Christmas decorations.

  Luke headed for the entrance to the High Rollers area. They bypassed the busy casino area and, after he’d flashed his badge, a dealer led them back to the High Rollers room. It was even more gaudy than the other parts of the casino.

  Luke spotted a lone man sitting at a table with a female dealer. “Remington.”

  The man looked up. He was movie-star handsome, and looked like he could have stepped out of the pages of GQ. Blonde hair fell over his forehead and his blue polo shirt covered a lean chest.

  Blair let out a low whistle that set Luke’s teeth on edge.

  “MacKade. Good to see you.” The man’s bright-green eyes fell on Blair. “Looks like you traded up when it came to partners.”

  “Careful, she bites.” Luke said.

  “I might like that,” Remington drawled.

  Blair smiled, showing lots of teeth. “Shame I don’t play with pretty boys.”

  The art dealer grinned, but Luke kept his face blank, and when Remington looked back at him, the man coughed and straightened.

  “Remington, Blair Mason. Blair, Remington.”

  She arched a brow. “No last name?”

  “No.” Another movie-star smile. “I like to be unique and mysterious.”

  Luke snorted. “He was born Aaron Smithson and changed it when he started dealing in art.”

  Remington’s smile dissolved. “Spoilsport. It’s a pleasure, Blair.”

  “You called me about some Japanese swords,” Luke said.

  “Right. I got wind that Salvador Morgan organized the theft of the swords you’ve been asking about from some casino exhibit.”

  “We already know that,” Luke said.

  Blair crossed her arms. “We visited his Playboy mansion this morning.”

  Remington shook his head. “That man has no class, unlike me, sweet Blair.” He ran the edge of his cards on the table. “I could show you a good time.”

  Luke felt his blood pressure spike. He was getting pretty damn fed up with men fawning over Blair. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to punch Remington in his perfect nose.

  “And I could hurt you,” Blair said silkily.

  “Ooh,” the man said.

  “What else have you got?” Luke snapped.

  “Something went wrong. Morgan was bragging about getting his hands on the swords, but his man went rogue.”

  “Kazan?” Luke prompted.

  “That’s him. Apparently, he stopped returning Morgan’s calls, and never checked in. Killed a bunch of Morgan’s security guards.”

  Luke nodded. “We saw the scene.”

  “He also never delivered the swords.”

  Blair tapped her chin with a fingertip. “You think Kazan decided to cash in and sell the swords?”

  “It doesn’t sound like him,” Remington mused. “Don’t know him well, but from my interactions with Kazan, he’s always been loyal to Morgan.”

  Luke scribbled some notes, then snapped his notepad shut. “Thanks, Remington. You hear anything else, call me.”

  The art dealer inclined his head, then looked at Blair. “Blair, if you’re looking for a good time, give me a call.”

  She waved. “Don’t w
ait up.”

  Blair and Luke strode out of the High Rollers room. They strode back down the carpeted hall, headed for the main casino. He felt Blair watching him.

  “What’s got you all worked up now?” she asked. “You are incredibly moody, you know that? When you’re pissed, it throbs off you.”

  He felt like she was waving a red flag in front of his face. He jerked to a stop and spun.

  “Watching you flirt. It’s burned on my damn eyeballs.”

  She put a hand on one hip. “I wasn’t flirting, Remington was. And besides, even if I was, it’s none of your goddamn business.”

  Luke backed her into the wall, and she pressed her hands against his chest.

  “Back off, MacKade.”

  “I don’t think you want me to.” He certainly didn’t want to. He pinned her, his mouth hovering over hers. “Watching these men drool all over you, it pisses me off.”

  She shoved. “MacKade.”

  He held his ground. “Watching you talk, move, fight, eat, breathe…that turns me on.”

  She stilled, her gaze locking with his.

  He lowered his voice. “It’s driving me out of my mind.”

  He knew he was being crazy and possessive. He was sure she was about to punch him in the head.

  Then he saw it. The light of hunger in her eyes.

  He slammed his mouth on hers.

  She moaned, her tongue delving between his lips. Their tongues dueled and he wrapped his arms around her, pushing her firmly against the wall.

  God, he could kiss her all day, all week. The slick slide of her tongue, the taste of her, the small sounds she made. She wrapped a long leg around his hip and his denim-covered cock hit between her thighs.

  What the hell was he doing? He was kissing Blair Mason in the middle of a corridor in Caesar’s Palace. They were probably putting on a hell of a show for security.

  Luke yanked himself back, fighting for some control. “We need to get back to the station.”

  She stared at him. “MacKade—” Her hands smoothed over his shoulders. “Damn, you’re tense.” Her fingers kneaded.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her eyes met his. “Being nice to you. Just be quiet and accept it.”

  He blew out a breath. “Blair Mason being nice to me. I’ll mark this date on my calendar.”

  She poked her tongue out, then her face turned serious. “I have no interest in smarmy rich guys or pretty-boy art dealers.”

  Luke stilled. “What do you have an interest in?”

  “Well, I like hard bodies.” Her fingers dug deeper into his shoulders. “And a guy who can take care of himself. And it appears, I have an interest in annoying police detectives.”

  He brushed his lips against hers. “I wish we didn’t need to get back to headquarters right now.”

  She patted his shoulder and stepped back. “But duty calls.”

  Blair wasn’t afraid to admit to herself that she was pretty damn confused right now.

  And all these confused, messed-up feelings revolved around the man walking beside her.

  They marched into police headquarters, and Blair battled the urge to grab him and drag him into a dark corner.

  How dare he kiss the hell out of her and leave her all worked up? Right now, she was fighting the urge to tear his clothes off. Desire was a traitorous curl in her belly. She wanted to see all the bronze skin she knew was hiding under the denim and the shirt. Her gaze fell to where he’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, uncovering the sexiest forearms she’d ever seen.

  Damn, the man was scrambling her brain.

  She licked her lips and almost moaned. She could still taste him—coffee and mint. She could still feel the heat of his big body pressed up against hers.

  He was tall and strong, and she knew he could match her. Her pulse spiked and she licked her lips again. She liked far too many things about Detective Luke MacKade.

  As soon as they reached the Homicide Section, MacKade glanced her way. “I need to update my lieutenant.”

  She nodded.

  “Stay out of trouble.”

  She tilted her head. “I’m in a police station.”

  “Don’t break anyone’s nose or arm, or get into a shoot-out.” Without saying anything else, he strode away on those long legs.

  Blair rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Mostly so she didn’t watch his denim-cupped ass as he walked away.

  God, she needed something to eat.

  She walked toward MacKade’s desk. She should just bang him and get him out of her system. With every other guy she’d felt an interest in, it faded pretty fast after a few sweaty nights.

  But the niggle in her gut warned her that she was playing with fire when it came to MacKade.

  Trying to find other ways to distract herself, she pulled her phone out to check in with Lachlan. She sent off a quick message, and got a typical, brusque Lachlan reply. No updates.

  She plopped down on MacKade’s chair and took a second to adjust it to suit her, thereby screwing up all his settings. Petty, but it made her feel better. Next, she rifled through his drawers. She didn’t find a single candy bar or anything else edible.

  She looked over and saw Baxter sitting at the neighboring desk. He was smiling at her.

  “He hates when people mess with his chair,” Baxter said.

  Blair smiled. “Good.”

  The detective nodded. “He needs someone who pushes his buttons and doesn’t let him get his own way.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that.

  “He usually dates these nice women who all smile and nod at him.”

  Blair scowled. She didn’t want to imagine some nice, boring woman in floral blouses and pearls, fluttering her eyelashes at MacKade. “We aren’t dating, Baxter.”

  Baxter made an unconvinced sound.

  Her gaze snagged on the muffin sitting on the corner of Baxter’s desk. “I need that muffin.”

  He frowned at her. “The way you eat, you should weigh more.”

  “Good metabolism.”

  The detective grabbed the muffin and broke it in half. He handed her a piece, and they both sat there nibbling.

  “I take it you didn’t find any leads on the swords?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “We did get chased by a bike gang.” She gave him a quick recap.

  “We’ll find ’em. Worked with Luke a long time, and he’s like a Rottweiler with a bone on a case. Big or small, he gives every case his all. I think it’s because of his mom.”

  Blair paused. “His mom?”

  Baxter nodded. “She was killed when he was a teenager.”

  The muffin felt like it turned to rock in her belly. God. “That’s rough.”

  She knew exactly what happened when you lost a part of your family. It crumbled.

  “She was murdered,” Baxter continued.

  Jesus. Luke had lost his mom in the most horrible way possible.

  “His dad was a cop and it had something to do with a case he was working. Luke’s the oldest, and he stepped up to help his dad with his younger siblings.”

  Responsible, protective Luke MacKade. Blair rubbed the ache in her chest.

  Just then, they heard a commotion out in the hall. Sharing a curious glance, she and Baxter rose together, walking out of Homicide.

  A group of people were clustered near the stairwell.

  “What’s going on?” Baxter asked.

  “Something’s happening down in the lobby,” one woman said.

  Frowning, Blair took the stairs. Baxter followed, huffing a bit by the time they reached the bottom.

  As they entered the lobby, with its sea of waiting chairs, she saw lots of frightened faces. She turned and spotted a man striding through the rows of chairs, holding a katana.

  Fuck.

  All around, cops drew their weapons. Beside her, Baxter also pulled out his handgun.

  “Drop the weapon,” a cop yelled out.

  The man raised the sw
ord above his head.

  Blair sucked in a breath. That looked like a no.

  Then the man spun.

  Like a whirlwind, he tore toward several uniforms. He cut one down, the man screaming as his blood spurted from a slice across his belly. Screams filled the lobby. Blair’s heart pounded in her ears. There were too many people in the room. Cops, innocent civilians, handcuffed perps waiting to be processed.

  The cops opened fire. The noise in the enclosed space was deafening.

  Blair braced, watching the man with the sword. His body jerked under the impact of the bullets, but they didn’t stop him.

  He had a Muramasa blade.

  He didn’t drop the sword and he didn’t slow down.

  “Cease fire,” she yelled.

  Baxter looked at her for a beat, then bellowed with her. “Cease fire.”

  The man raced across the lobby, cutting into several women who were clearly still wearing their sexy, little dresses from the night before. Screams reverberated off the walls.

  Blair rushed forward. “Hey, you!”

  The man’s head lifted. His eyes were bloodshot, his face contorted.

  Several cops moved forward, and she held up a hand. “Stop.” She lowered her voice. “Baxter, make sure I don’t get shot.”

  Blair leaped over a row of plastic chairs. She charged the man, jumping and aiming a kick at the attacker’s head.

  She connected with his jaw and his head snapped back.

  She landed, bending into a crouch. He moved fast, slashing with that sword. It cut through the air in a blur. She ducked, and then when he rushed her, she leaped backward, dodging that deadly blade.

  Baxter rushed forward, gun aimed. “Drop the sword!”

  “Baxter, stay back!” Blair raced in from the side. She landed a hard kick to the man’s lower back. He staggered forward, recovered quickly, and slashed out with the sword.

  But he didn’t come at Blair.

  He lunged at Baxter.

  The sword ran straight through Baxter’s gut.

  Everything stopped. Blair felt like she was moving in slow motion, the sound in the room turning into a loud drone.

  No.

  Blood trickled out of Baxter’s mouth. He clutched his bleeding belly.

  Baxter. Who had a sweet, lopsided smile, and who had shared his muffin with her.