Sounds to Die By: Sensory Ops, Book 1 Read online

  “When did you get the recording? How have you kept your team from connecting her to you?”

  “I took point on running her background and interviewing her connections. The guys on the team were all busy doing the same for other victims.”

  “And the recording?”

  “That night when I checked my email.” She chuckled. “The name on the account was Crazy for Naoko.”

  “And that meant something to you?”

  “Naoko is Japanese for straight. Honest.” Her mind floated back to college, as it had when she’d read the name. “Naoko was also a guy in one of our college English classes.”

  “And you guys liked him.”

  “Ha.” She smiled and breathed slowly as she remembered him. “Everyone, guys and girls alike, liked him. Naoko was just one of those likeable people. Lana, though, was more than a little bit in love with him. And he loved her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Despite dual citizenship and having been raised in America, he succumbed to family pressure. He returned to Japan and married the girl his family had chosen for him. To give him credit, he’d told Lana from the beginning that he would do what his family expected of him. Anyway, Lana made a joke out of the irony of his name. He’d been the only honest man she’d ever known.”

  “I’m guessing that you or your team traced the email account? The IP address the email came from?”

  “Yes. She stopped at a cyber café one night and created the account. Mine was the only email she ever sent from it. She was reported missing eleven hours later.”

  “So she had known that she was a target.”

  “Yes.” Lana didn’t miss details. Ever.

  “Tell me something. She made the recording in the club. You’re playing games to draw the owner toward you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you honestly think that if they are selling these women that they would keep them in one place, especially a busy club, for a sustained period of time?”

  “Are you telling me that you believe it’s impossible?”

  “No. I’m asking you to consider that you might not find the women there.”

  “I might not, but if they have the facilities, the club could be a good cover. If the owner came under suspicion, no one watching him would see anything off as his day-to-day schedule would remain the same. The noise of the club at night would cover any racket the women did manage to make, and he’d have the mornings and afternoons to deal with whatever it is he needs to do with them.”

  His raised eyebrows indicated that he was impressed. She’d given it more thought than he’d given her credit for.

  “You put yourself in danger in the club by using Lana’s name.”

  “I wanted them to follow me. I wanted to be able to track them back to the women if they weren’t at the club.”

  “You wanted to put yourself in the line of fire so you could prove to your unit that you knew what you were talking about.” His jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed. He drummed his blunt-tipped fingers on the table. “To shove it in their faces that you were right. You view them like the guys that wouldn’t let you into their club. You have to earn that spot sometimes.”

  “You know nothing about my motivations.” She popped up straight. As she pushed slightly away from the table, the chair legs scraped loudly on the floor. This is completely different. Isn’t it? “I have a case to solve. It was a necessary risk.”

  “Bullshit! What if I hadn’t been with you? What if I hadn’t heard them talking about you?” He slammed a hand against the table. “It was a stupid risk.”

  Kieralyn’s phone jingled with an incoming text message. It was Breck’s ring. She retrieved the phone and read the message he’d sent. “You son of a bitch.”

  “What?”

  “You lied to me.” She shoved away from the table. Her chair crashed to the floor with a clatter. Her heart slammed in her chest. He was treating her like a fool, a moron, while withholding key information. He was no different from other men. He just heard a little more.

  “You took information from my recording and used it for your own gain.” Her pulse thrummed, but rather than rage at him, she channeled her shaking anger into control. “Tell me, Ian, what does El Dogo mean to you? Why do you want so badly to protect him? And don’t try to lie.”

  Kieralyn’s passionate accusation slid down Ian’s throat like the juices from a fresh pear—sweet, succulent and not entirely satisfying. She’d learned something new from whatever message she’d just received.

  The air backed up in his lungs. He ducked his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should be focused on the fact that someone had followed them from the club, and that whoever it was had shot off a text message as Ian and Kieralyn had headed to the car. If their pursuer’s ride arrived quickly enough, they could now know where Ian lived.

  But no one had shown up in the parking lot and they’d passed no one on the road by the office. Though, they could have picked up a tail on the main street. Someone who’d been told what car to look for.

  Kieralyn’s driving had been hurried—almost erratic—fueled by her frustrations. They would have stood out to anyone able to keep up with her. Ian had listened to the familiar sounds of his street while she’d pulled in. He’d heard only the light buzz of a few porch lights.

  He told himself that having her park in the garage was an added precaution. It had nothing to do with a desire to keep her close and everything to do with not knowing the resources of the men they were up against. It was possible for Kieralyn to be tracked by her license plate. Or for him to be tracked from his place of work. No one was ever one hundred percent safe. Danger was as unpredictable as a faulty gas line. Only time would reveal when it struck and how much damage would result.

  “I’m waiting, Ian.” Her nails tapped the wooden top of his table. “You got the truth from me. I deserve it from you. How do you know El Dogo?”

  Maybe she was right, but telling her everything might not be the best idea. He needed more information about what was going on. Unfortunately, it was information he wasn’t likely to get without filling her in a little. Answers, though, would be on his terms. “What makes you think El Dogo means anything to me?”

  “You reacted oddly when you heard it on the recording. I’m betting that’s what sent you to the club tonight.”

  “Tsk. Tsk.” She’d just maneuvered herself to the angle he’d intended to take her. “You should stop betting while you’re ahead.”

  “Are you really going to sit there and tell me I’m wrong? That something else sent you to that club tonight?”

  “Yes.” Maximum bumped his nose against the door. Ian stood to let him in. “After hearing the recording, considering the sounds and how they flowed together, I figured it was likely the men had been talking about one of two jazz clubs. Jazz on the Rocks or Jazzid at the Beach.”

  “You should have told me about them. Let me, my team, follow up the possibility.”

  “I didn’t.” He opened the door and Maximum marched past him to sit by Kieralyn. Ian rubbed the back of his neck. Weird. Since losing his hearing and some of his sense of smell, Maximum rarely took to other people. “I took the opportunity to indulge in my love of jazz.”

  “Damn it, Ian. It wasn’t your place, and you’re still not answering my question.”

  “Maybe not.” He sat in the chair beside her rather than across from her. Close, he could smell her better. “Can you tell me that you or the men in your unit would have been able to identify the same sounds I heard on the recording? That you could have confirmed or dismissed the possibility of the club being the one on the recording? Or that your unit would have taken it as a serious lead?”

  “They want to find these women as badly as I do.”

  “And yet, when they submitted the request for my services they omitted everything that angled toward the cases being related and possibly linked to the women being sold. And even if they did buy into your theory, you don’
t have anything beyond a hunch. No judge would give you a warrant, which means you can’t go searching.”

  “We’re trained to observe. We could have checked the leads out just as well as you. Better.”

  He reached behind him and grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle. Holding it out to her, he smiled. “Call your team. Tell them that you think some or all of the missing women are being held at an upscale jazz club on the beach. A club that has a sterling reputation and is owned by a reputable member of the community.”

  She snatched the phone from him.

  “Oh, and be sure to tell them to scope the place out for a soundproofed room in the back that can be accessed by a hidden door. Assuming they can get in at this late hour.”

  “The FBI has contacts. We can get in.” She rubbed her fingers over the phone keys, but didn’t call anyone. “How do you know there’s a soundproofed room?”

  “You’ve already tipped your hand in there. Your team will not go unnoticed.” He crossed his arms. “Then again, maybe that’s how you all work. You go into a place and flash all the cards you’re holding in hopes that maybe the bad guys will walk up and admit that it’s them you’re after. No wonder your team doesn’t listen to you.”

  He really was no different than her team. They saw her as expendable and one way or another she would prove them all wrong. “You son of a bitch.”

  Her tantalizing scent intensified as anger spiked her body temperature. “And we return to the insults.”

  “You have no right—”

  “You’ve admitted to holding back information from your own team and said that you aren’t taken seriously. You aren’t helping your case any by being impulsive.”

  “These women deserve to be found.” She jumped up and paced the floor. “To have what’s being done to them stopped.”

  “I’m not debating that.”

  “But you’re standing in the way!”

  “And you have no rights to make demands of me. You’re welcome to leave at any time.” Ian stood and moved to the door leading into the garage. “You know the names of the two clubs. Personally, I think the second place will be a dead end.”

  “Is El Dogo your father?”

  She couldn’t know that. “Good luck finding Lana. I hope your team will indulge you long enough to see the validity to your ideas.”

  “You’re just like every other overbearing, self-important, chauvinistic man I’ve ever known.” She grabbed her bag from the counter and stomped toward the door. “Tell El Dogo—or maybe it’s Mick Cabrera—hello when you see him in Hell.”

  Ian slammed the door a second before she got to it. He should just let her go and be done. She would solve her case and whatever truth there was to his father would be revealed in the fallout. He needed to warn his mom and sister. He had enough on his plate without riding the Kieralyn Coaster.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he blocked her path. “If you’re taking down El Dogo, I am going to be there.”

  “No chance. Now move.” She pulled on his arm. “I have things to do.”

  He didn’t budge. “He is my father. He’s been missing for two years. Beyond that I have no answers for you.”

  “You can’t go to the scene with me again, Ian. You’re too close.”

  Right. I’m too emotionally invested. “I listened to you make your case this morning. I listened to your recording. I typically wouldn’t have let you past Dante.”

  “Why did you? What made you decide not to send me packing?”

  Keep her guessing. “You’re passionate.” Or not.

  “Two minutes ago you called it impulsive, as if it was a bad thing.”

  He sighed. With her prideful views, she saw it as a contradiction. An insult. He reached out and took her purse from her hand. After hanging it on the hook by the door, he took her hands in his and linked their fingers. “Passion drives you into impulsive decisions that could get you hurt.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. She cleared her throat. “You say that as if you care.”

  “More than I’m comfortable with.” And I’m helpless to fight it. “Passion is a good thing in your work, if you can temper it. Some people need emotional distance to do the job you’ve chosen. Others feel a connection to every victim, every case.”

  He pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. “You need the connection, but you may be too close to this one.”

  “I’m not stepping away from this.” She struggled against him. He held firm.

  “I didn’t suggest that.” He kissed her forehead. “But you need to release some of the energy building inside of you.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “One way or another, you have to allow yourself to escape all thoughts of the case.” He kissed the other corner of her mouth. “Or you’ll burn out.”

  “I’ll escape after I save the women.” She softened against him—marginally.

  “No.” He slid his mouth over hers. “As much as rescuing those women—Lana—means to you, as important as it is to stop the injustices they and other women may suffer, you have to realize that you can’t do it all alone. And you can’t do it without knowing who has them and where they’re being held.”

  Like she had outside the club, Kieralyn melted against his body. Her hands rested at his waist with her fingers brushing against his shirt, sliding the material against his skin.

  “You believe that I’m right about the connection? That the club we were at, the owner, is connected to it all somehow?”

  “Yes.” He walked her backwards, deeper into the kitchen. “But there are still too many unanswered questions.”

  She arched her neck. A tiny moan escaped her lips. “Like what?”

  He nibbled the cord of her neck and maneuvered her around the table. “Like what you taste like.”

  “You’ve already kissed me.”

  “Not enough. Not everywhere.” He slid his hands up her back and buried them in her heavy hair. “Are you going to let me make love to you, Kieralyn?”

  “Ian, the case—”

  “Isn’t going anywhere.” Her heart slammed beneath her soft breasts pressed against his chest. “I, on the other hand, may go mad if you say no.”

  “No pressure.”

  “Oh, there’s a lot of pressure.” He rolled his hips so she could feel his arousal. “It started building when I heard your voice in my lab this morning.”

  “Aah.”

  “The breathy way you pleaded your case teased me.” He fisted his hands in her hair and pulled her head back some more. “Then I caught your scent. Soft lilacs that became more erotic with every beat of your heart.”

  “You’re a confusing man, Ian Cabrera.” Her ragged breath rushed over his neck. She bunched the fabric of his shirt in her hands. “I don’t know how to handle you.”

  The image of them outside the club earlier—when she’d slipped her fingers into the waist of his pants—popped into his head. It would be easy for her to slip the button free, ease the zipper down, and slide her hand down and around him. His dick throbbed.

  “There’s nothing confusing about desire.” Unless he considered the unsettling speed with which she was coming to be important to him or his inability to turn away from the chance of spending more time with her.

  Her passion, the way she tested everything and kept him on his toes, reminded Ian of the spark he’d always seen between his parents. A spark he’d always wanted, but had never found with a woman. That the woman he found it with couldn’t see past her own agenda or his blindness to see herself as his match was his problem. He would get hurt when she walked, when she proved unable to accept him.

  She awakened something inside him. A yearning that made resisting her for his own sake impossible. Dredging up the remnants of his control, he raised his head and faced her. If she paid attention, she would realize that she would remain the center of his focus for as long as she wanted to be. He would face the fallout later.

  She remained still and quiet, but for the bold po
unding of her pulse and the brush of her blouse against her bra with each hurried breath.

  Her hands dropped from his waist. Her breathing slowed with her heart rate. She’d made her decision. There would be no sex.

  He stepped back and told himself to be grateful. Going forward with her was begging trouble. Kieralyn defined complicated. But damn, he wanted her. Craved her like a wild cat craved the sustenance of a hunt.

  It’s better this way. Cleaner.

  Her fingers brushed his lips. “I want you, Ian.”

  He saw himself slamming her against the wall and devouring her whole. Driving her mad as he awakened every sensibility she possessed. Instead, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Be sure, Kieralyn. You won’t be in control of yourself any more than you will be of me.”

  She pushed up against him and pressed her lips to his. Her lips tilted against his mouth in a smile that enticed him as much as her arousal-thickened voice and the musky smooth scent of her passion. “I’m sure.”

  The tether on his control snapped. She was going to be his.

  He dropped his head and claimed her mouth. Stepping forward, he backed her to the kitchen wall and pressed her flat against the hard surface. She pushed up to her tiptoes and slanted her mouth against his.

  His chest constricted uncomfortably with emotions he didn’t want to acknowledge. He cared about what happened to her—he admired her—but it couldn’t go beyond that.

  He shoved the sensation down and molded his hands to the curves of her hips. Before the night was through, he would know her entire body. But his favorite part of her was her hips. Her hips—the way they swayed when she moved—made his palms itch. After fighting a raging hard-on as she’d placed his hands on her hips and led him across the club, imaginings had flooded his mind. Of the way she’d move while dancing, running alongside him and Maximum in the mornings or making love.

  “I want you in my bed.”

  “Okay.” She writhed between his body and the wall. She raised a leg, brushing the inside of his.