Raid - By Kristen Ashley Page 0,23

games, Raiden. It’s just a headache.” More like heartache. “With me, you get what you see, that’s it. No mystery. No nothing. Just me.”

“You aren’t you,” he told me.

“You don’t know me,” I returned.

Raiden went silent, but he didn’t move away.

Then he murmured, “Fair enough.”

Thank God.

He slid his hand to the back of my neck, pulling me close as his head lifted up and he spoke, “You kiss like that when you got a headache, honey,” he touched his lips to my forehead and they moved there as he finished, “lookin’ forward to havin’ your mouth when you don’t.”

Liar.

Liar.

Liar.

I decided not to respond.

I also decided not to allow myself to think about how wonderful it felt to have Raiden Miller kiss my forehead.

His hand slid to my jaw and his chin tipped so he could catch my eyes.

“‘Night, Hanna,” he said softly.

“Good-bye, Raiden,” I replied.

His eyes flashed at my words, but his face moved in. He touched his lips to mine, moved back, took the afghan from me and sauntered out the door.

Keeping up appearances, I stood in it, and when he swung in his Jeep I waved.

Raiden did not wave back.

Then I closed the door and locked it. I switched the outside lights off and turned off the lights that I’d left on in the foyer. That done, I dashed up the stairs as best I could because I was also tugging at the buckles and straps of my sandals to get them off while I went.

I hit the bedroom, tossed my shoes on the bed and turned on the lamp on my nightstand.

Only then did I hear the Jeep pull away.

He waited until I’d made it upstairs and he knew I was settling, getting ready for bed before he drove away.

That was sweet.

God, I wished he was real.

I dashed back down the stairs and grabbed the phone in the hall. I ran through the dining room into the kitchen, snapped on the light and found the phonebook.

I flipped through it and found the number for the Sherriff’s Police.

Then I called it.

Chapter Seven

Reward

Raid

Raid walked down the sidewalk to the shiny, black SUV parked on the side of the road in town. He pulled open the door and angled in.

Blue and red lights flashed into the cab as they did the same outside, illuminating the street.

“You hear the police band?” Tucker Creed asked.

Raid kept his eyes to the three squad cars and one K-9 SUV all angled in around Bodhi’s bike shop. Then he shifted his gaze down the street where, at a distance of a little over a block, two more squads and another K-9 unit were angled outside the gift shop.

“Raid, you hear me?” Creed asked, and Raid cut his eyes to his partner.

“I heard it,” he growled.

“She called it in,” Creed told him something he already knew.

“I said I heard it,” Raid repeated.

“You know how she knew to call it in? You said she was clueless,” Creed asked, and Raid’s eyes moved back to the flashing squads.

He knew.

She’d played him.

Sweet, shy, cute, goofy Hanna Boudreaux didn’t go out for a breath of fresh air to clear her head and try to get rid of a burgeoning headache like she told him she had.

She’d been the one he heard open the ladies room door.

She’d overheard him.

She’d covered it, came back looking freaked, lied that it was a headache and then spent the next thirty minutes acting jacked because she was freaked that her friends were fucking her over.

Then, minutes after he left her at her house, she’d made a call and blown their whole fucking, eleven month operation.

“This lead’s dead,” Creed declared, and Raid looked back at him. “They got both that Bodhi kid and his girl in custody. May luck out and they’ll flip for the police, but this guy pullin’ the strings, doubt those two goofballs got the breadcrumbs to lay that trail so they’ll probably only give the cops shit we already got.”

None of this was wrong.

Creed kept going, “Headin’ back down to Phoenix. Sylvie’s already pissed I’ve been up here this long. Says I need to haul my ass back to the valley and play Daddy to Jesse, and next time it’s her turn to try and track down drug supplying whackjobs.”

Tucker Creed had been coming up, on and off, a day here, a week there when things got hot, for the last eleven months.

Whenever it got hot it eventually fizzled out, so he went home to his family.

Raid had met Creed’s wife once.