"And I wouldn't ask you to do this if it weren't my last option, Christian." She hated seeing his pain revisited. Every muscle in his body tensed with her cry for help. "I don't trust anyone else. Please."
"Damn it, Fiona!" He crossed his arms over his bare chest, his face tight with a grimace. After a long moment, he dropped his head and eased the tension in his muscles. "Damn it," he whispered. "What do you need me to do?"
Raven spotted another security camera following her every move in the observation room. The whole estate was overrun with red blinking eyes of the high-tech variety. Nudging her head in the direction of the surveillance equipment, she informed her partner.
"Looks like Big Brother is watching. They probably got cameras in the john. What do you think?"
"God, I hope not. I gotta use the facilities before we leave. If they got cameras in there, then my big secret will be out. Every woman in the greater Chicago area will be lookin' for some lovin' from Don Juan Rodriguez." He smirked, raising an eyebrow.
"Probably more like Speedy Gonzales. And it's amazing your ego fits in this room." She rolled her eyes, then turned to watch the drama unfolding in the war room. From this distance, she couldn't tell much about his looks, not having a clear view of his face. But it would appear Java boy didn't like his new assignment, gauging by his anger. This was just fine by her. She didn't need a new partner. "Would love to be a fly on the wall down there."
"With your luck, you'd get swatted once the lights went out. The guy's deadly in the dark."
"Story of my life, partner." She shrugged.
Before Tony asked what she meant by that, her cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. She answered the call, "Mackenzie."
"Detective Mackenzie?" a soft voice called her name amidst the static of a bad connection.
"Father Antonio? Is that you?" Knitting her brow, she pressed a finger to her other ear. "I can barely hear you."
"Yes, it's me. You said to call if I remembered anything." The priest raised his voice.
Raven paced the floor trying to get better reception, but nothing helped. "Yeah, I did. Do you have something to add?"
Leaning against the viewing window, she plugged her ear tighter. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement down below. Mrs. Dunhill and Christian Delacorte were headed upstairs, with Mr. Security slipping a T-shirt over his head. With her so close to the glass, she was pleased she couldn't be seen from their side of the two-way mirror. But soon, her privacy would be gone.
"There was a man in the cemetery last night."
"You saw someone?" Hunching her shoulders, she tried to find a spot that gave her the least amount of static. Had she heard the priest right? Tony stepped closer, nearer the viewing window.
"Yes, well, sort of. But he didn't come to the chapel that night. He broke the pattern."
"What are you saying, Father?"
"I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense. Let me start over. I saw a man in the cemetery last night, just before I went to the chapel. Probably why I was late."
"Did you recognize the man, Father Antonio?" She heard hope in her voice. But the sound of footsteps on the stairs, outside the room, made her heart beat faster. "What did you see?"
"I didn't really see his face clearly, but I know who he is from researching his family's gravesite. I've got newspaper clippings, articles from when they died. I know who he is."
A shadow fell over her shoulder, eclipsing the light from the war room chamber. Slowly, she turned, coming face-to-face with—
Christian Delacorte stood on the stair landing outside the observation deck. His eyes lined directly with hers, as if he knew exactly where she stood on the other side of the two-way mirror. With only thin glass between them, his stare stole her breath like a thief.
Most women would find him strikingly handsome with his dark green eyes, strong jawline, and full lips. Raw sensuality. His physical size surprised her. Up close, his broad chest, muscular arms, and narrow hips dominated her. With his skin still flush from exertion, it seemed to radiate the same heat to her face, warming her cheeks. On a cold night in Chicago, the man could replace her space heater, hands down.
Yet a glacial hardness to his eyes shot chills down her spine—an electrifying sensation that closely resembled desire, in her book. The word "intimidating" came to mind. Dangerous. Yet it was more than that. His masculinity commanded her senses in every way. No doubt, this man could push all her buttons—even ones not in the instruction manual. But he wasn't a man to trifle with.
Nearly dropping the phone, she cleared her throat and finished her call. "That's good, Father. We'll be right over." Fumbling with her phone to disconnect the call, she couldn't take her eyes from Delacorte. His glare never wavered.
She whispered, "Can he see me, Tony? How the hell can he see me?"
"'Cause he ain't human, that's why I think I seen this on Buffy the Vampire Slayer."
Fiona Dunhill touched Christian on the arm in an apparent effort to stop him from playing his intimidation game. But before Cruella De Vil and Count Dracula joined her and Tony, Raven let her partner know what was going on.
"We've got a stop to make before we head back to the station house, Tony. Our priest may be a witness after all."
Fiona stepped into the observation room before him. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Christian squinted, searching the room for—
"Detective Raven Mackenzie." A woman with dark hair stepped forward, extending her hand. Her dark eyes never flinched, even when he returned a glare. She spoke again, "And this is my partner, Detective Tony Rodriguez."
With only a brief glance down to her hand, he ignored the gesture and walked by her, totally neglecting the other man. He winced at the pain of a burgeoning headache. Today would be bad. He pressed a finger to his temple, hiding his discomfort.
"Sorry. I need to wash up." He knew that sounded lame, but he didn't give a damn.
His sweat gave him a pathetic excuse not to be more civil. Normally, he wouldn't care what they thought, but Fiona might. It was the best he could do with the war still raging in his head. His war games took a toll every time he indulged in them. But they were a compulsion he couldn't ignore. They had been his salvation—and his curse.
"Yeah, well—" The woman pointed a finger at him. "Nice meeting you, too."
Fiona broke the tension in the room. "Christian agreed to work with you. As we discussed, he's to be part of your investigative team, with all privileges. That's the only way you'll get my full cooperation. Do we have an understanding? Or shall I call Chief Markham and have him settle this?"
Christian turned back and eyed the female detective. He let his gaze take liberties. The rude behavior had been intended to intimidate the cop. But once he got started, the maneuver backfired. He liked what he saw. Liked it a lot.
Her shapely legs and the hint of an athletic build under her suit only conjured up distracting images of the bare skin underneath. And her jacket did little to disguise her full breasts. When she caught him staring, the woman crossed her arms and returned the gesture. He cocked an eyebrow.
Interesting . . . and gutsy.
Her piercing eyes nailed him, strafing his body with greedy interest. And apparently, she had no intention of backing down. She refused to be intimidated. Yet another seductive quality.
Her partner's voice interrupted their restrained skirmish.
"No, no need for that, Mrs. Dunhill. I think we understand one another." Detective Rodriguez stepped forward, placing himself in front of Raven to break the growing tension. Directing his next question, the detective sent a clear message for him to back off. "I'd say our next step is to set up a game plan. If you're free later this afternoon, say around three, I'd like to have you come to Central Station on South State Street to catch up on what we have so far. Does that work for you, Chris?"