are you going to ask him anything?”
“I can talk when I have to.”
Her voice sounded low and rich. The inflections were a little flat, but her voice was still the sexiest he’d ever heard. He’d forgotten Cassie hadn’t always been deaf, unlike Tommy, who’d been deaf from birth. “Why don’t you talk more? You have a great voice.”
I don’t like not knowing how I sound, she said, back to using her hands.
“You sound beautiful. Sexy.” He didn’t know what had made him admit that out loud. He and Cassie were working together, not dating. He needed to keep things all business between them. And besides, even if something could happen between them, he didn’t need to add letting Cassie down to his list of screwups. But even knowing all that, the words had slipped out and he hadn’t wanted to bite them back.
She shook her head as if impatient with him. Regardless of how my voice sounds, I can make him understand me just fine. Don’t worry.
At least one of them had her head together. At least where aimless flirting was concerned. “Kardascian not being able to understand you is only one problem with you questioning him.”
I can handle him.
Maybe she could, maybe she couldn’t. Nothing against Cassie, but he wasn’t about to let her try. “It’s my job to protect you, Cassie. You’re going to have to let me do it.”
Her fingers flew with lightning speed. I’ve been working on the disk. I know more of the background on the case. I will be the one asking the questions. I’m good at my job, Detective. Just because I can’t hear—
“Whoa. Wait a minute. You might want to twist this into an argument about your deafness, but that has nothing to do with why I don’t want you near Kardascian. He’s one brutal bastard. Pure and simple. I can protect you. And damn it, I’m going to. You’re in charge of decryption, and I’ll take care of Kardascian and anything else that’s dangerous. If you have a problem with that, take it up with Evangeline.”
She crinkled her eyebrows and turned her head away, peering out the window at the foothills and gullies scrolling past. Auburn curls draped over her cheek, shielding her face from view.
So much for making his point. He wasn’t sure she’d chosen to take in a word he said. With a hearing woman, he could make her listen, or at least drone on for his own amusement. Cassie could shut him out with the turn of her head. There was nothing he could do to bring her focus back to him…unless he grasped her arm and physically turned her.
He pushed that idea as far from his mind as he could get it. He was attracted enough to Cassie Allen. He sure didn’t need to add physical contact into the equation.
The pavement curved south and climbed sharply. He focused on the road ahead, squinting into the sun. Pain stabbed his swollen eye like an ice pick jamming into his brain. At least he no longer had a hangover. Yesterday the sun would have killed him.
At least that would have made Cassie happy.
Twenty silent minutes later, they crested the ridge. He located the address and wound down the long driveway. Kardascian’s mansion hung on the side of the mountain, a log cabin with so much glass it was hard to figure out just where logs came into play. “Pharmaceuticals pay well, that’s for damn sure,” he said to himself.
He parked near the front walk and climbed from the car. By the time he’d circled to the passenger side, Cassie was out and smoothing her skirt with the palms of her hands. He stepped in front of her so she would have to look at him. “Are we on the same page?”
She pressed her lips together. Setting her chin, she stepped around him and marched up the stairs.
So much for their argument on the drive. He started after her, drawing even before she reached the front door. Extending a finger, he stabbed the doorbell.
The chime echoed through the house. The sound died, leaving only the spring chatter of birds and wind whistling through aspens and evergreen bows.
Cassie punched the doorbell, the chimes ringing a second time.
Still no answer. Mike stepped through the carefully landscaped bed surrounding the front step and cupped his hand against the garage window to shield the sun’s reflection. The red gleam of a convertible Corvette shone from one of the bays. A heavy-duty SUV hulked in another. And in the third, a chromedecked Harley. Only a fraction of his vehicle collection. The rest must be at his high-rise condo in Denver, the place he’d moved after signing his house at the Polo Grounds over to his ex-wife. Or maybe one of his other half-dozen homes.
Whatever his vehicle situation, the lack of empty garage bays didn’t mean he wasn’t driving a different expensive vehicle. Or that he didn’t use a car service. But there was something else about the garage that bothered Mike. Something that didn’t feel right.
The door. He looked closer. Sure enough, the door from garage to house was open. A minute ticked by, yet no movement came from the house. He focused on that open door. A smudge of something marred the pristine white steel just below the knob. Something brownish…
Blood?
There were a myriad of other possible explanations—dirt, chocolate, who knew what? But that didn’t explain the bad feeling chomping at the back of Mike’s neck like an attack dog. He signed to Cassie. Go back to the car. I’m going to take a look around.
Cassie shook her head.
Damn. He might be paranoid, but he couldn’t take the chance. The last thing he needed was for Cassie to get caught up in something bad. He wasn’t going to let that happen. This could be serious, Cassie. And you’re unarmed. I might have had my badge suspended, but at least I have my personal weapon. You’re going to have to do what I say. Go back to the car, lock yourself in and call 9-1-1. If anything happens, get the hell out of here. He tossed her the keys.
She caught them, hesitated, then nodded.
Mike waited until he saw her climb into the car, slam the door and hit the electronic locks before he circled the house.
The house’s doors were locked, windows secured. If he had a real reason to believe someone was in imminent danger inside, he’d break a window and let himself in. As it was, a hunch didn’t cut it with the law. He was already going out on a limb by calling the sheriff’s department out here all based on a brownish smudge and a bad feeling.
He circled the side of the log cabin. Four windows cut into the logs on this side of the house. He peered inside each one. A formal living room. A study. Rich earth-toned furniture, plush carpet and rough-hewn stone fireplaces decorated each space. The rooms looked spotless and utterly vacant, as if the only one who ever set foot in the place was the cleaning lady.
So why had she missed the smudge on the inside garage door?
After he’d circled about half the house, the ground fell away into a steep slope. Decking loomed overhead, arranged in three layers. The entire back of the house was glass, gleaming in the sunlight.
Mike stepped to the sliding glass door on the lowest level and peered inside. A shape loomed dark against white carpet. A prone body.
Gripping either side of the door, Mike fought the sliding door free of its lock and lifted it off the track. An alarm screamed
