Mistletoe and Murder. Jenna Ryan
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to hers.
Her head spun in delicious circles. He tasted like sex and cool water, a tantalizing contrast. His tongue made a thorough exploration of her mouth, and she felt a sigh rise up in her throat.
Now this, she thought hazily, this was a kiss. A wicked, soul-stirring, heart-hammering kiss. And it was exactly what she’d wanted, what she’d needed from him tonight.
But even off balance, there were limits. Giving his lower lip a nip, she pulled away. It was either that or move the whole thing into his SUV.
“Guess I still have a few lingering fantasies.” She disentangled her hair from his hand. “You’re a great kisser, Detective Knight—for a man who prefers his own company.”
He ran a thumb over her jaw. “Are you trying to get a rise out of me, Romana?”
She shimmied her hips against his. “I don’t need to try. I already have.” She gave him another quick nip.
His eyes tempted her to do it all again—until she spied the gleam deep inside them.
She took a wise step back. “I need air, Jacob. You’re making me dizzy.”
“Sounds promising.”
In spite of herself, Romana couldn’t resist hooking two fingers in the top of his waistband. Smart was one thing, but there was no need to end the moment in a blind rush.
“You’re such a conundrum,” she murmured as he ran his hands up and down her arms. “I have a feeling I’m going to…” The thought died when she spotted the object several feet in front of her. Rectangular shape, bloodred color and all too familiar to her these days. “Oh, damn,” she breathed.
“What?” Jacob swung his head, followed her gaze to the windshield of his SUV.
“That’s one of Critch’s envelopes.” She made a quick sweep of the lot. “And I swear it wasn’t here a moment ago.”
Jacob yanked it free and handed it to her even as he stuffed his gun into the top of his jeans. His eyes never stopped moving.
Romana regarded the flap, visualized briefly, then opened it. Her hands wanted to tremble, but she sucked it up and steadied her nerves. This was a scare tactic, an effective one, but she’d be damned if she’d play Critch’s game, no matter how rattled she felt.
Still scanning, Jacob drew her into the shelter of his large vehicle. He gave her a few seconds to read the message before he murmured, “Out loud, Romana.”
She frowned at the poorly printed words. “‘If you’re keeping score,’” she read, “‘this is your second threat.’” She turned the paper over, searched for more. “What threat?”
As if cued, a pair of projectiles whizzed past her ear. She heard two soft thwacks, then found herself on her knees in the snow. Jacob held her firmly in place while he combed the shadowy fir trees on the perimeter of the lot.
“Why did I ask?” She pushed at his hands. “I’m not going to jump up, Jacob. Do you see him?”
“No.”
Crawling forward, Romana stole a look around the bumper. “There aren’t any vehicles over here,” she said. Then she raised her sights, and her heart gave a single, hard beat. “Ah—well.”
“What?”
“I found our second threat.”
Still on her knees, she indicated Jacob’s windshield—and the pair of neat, round bullet holes Critch had fired through it.
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