Undercovers Read Online Free PDF Page A

asked, her eyes skimming the profiles on his computer screen.
    He pointed to one image. “This guy. Have you seen him at the club?”
    She narrowed her gaze. The face on the screen was so pretty it was almost painful, his crystalline blue eyes soft and gentle, the full curve of his lips almost too pretty to be masculine. He was handsome, in a classic, aristocratic way that was hard not to notice, and impossible to forget.
    “No. Never seen this guy before in my life. Why?”
    “Name is Les Anders. He was one of the guys on the camera footage Lt. Dimitru gave us. I did some digging. Seems he was hanging around at the club around the time of the murders.” He swung around in his chair. “And get this—he was turned by a prostitute. He was in love with her, so he married her. When she got her hands on his money, she wiped him out. He thought they were going to live happily ever after.” He shrugged. “Guess she had other plans.”
    “Do we know what happened to her?’
    “Yeah. He caught up with her a century later and killed her. Can’t say I blame him though.”
    She beamed down at him and grasped his face, planting a kiss against his cheek. “You’re a genius, you know that? I owe you.”
    “Only doing my job,” he said with a handsome grin.
    “Well get back to it then! Detective LeCourt, didn’t I tell you to meet me in my office five minutes ago?”
    Her smile disappeared, and whatever good cheer she’d just had was now officially gone.
    She spun around, but Roarke was already walking away from her, no doubt expecting her to follow after him.
    She did, but with painfully slow steps. She wasn’t quite ready to face him just yet. She’d lain awake all last night, her hand permanently fixed between her legs as she stroked herself to orgasm after orgasm. It was embarrassing that Roarke had this type of power over her body—that after all this time he still had the power to make her burn for him.
    She’d tried to avoid him all morning, knowing it was futile. They had to meet to discuss the case before they headed to the club later that evening. She dreaded coming face to face with him. It was easy to pretend she didn’t want him when he wasn’t standing before her assaulting her with his blatant masculinity, the rugged handsomeness that made her all too aware of him as a man.
     
    She’d barely closed the door before he was on her, the hard muscled length of him inches from her, his eyes glinting a hard jade. She backed up, but that was a mistake because he closed in, boxing her with his body and the door behind her.
    “Lock it,” he growled, and she didn’t question the command with the anger radiating off him nearly making her sweat.
    “What is Kristoff to you?”
    Her eyes widened at the edge in his voice. “He’s just a friend.”
    “Didn’t look like a friend.”
    Her nostrils flared, and though she didn’t want to provoke him, she couldn’t rein in her temper even if she wanted to. “I don’t care what it looked like. I’m telling you he’s just a friend, and so that’s what he is, but it wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t.”
    His eyes narrowed. “Oh, it would matter.”
    His voice was low, menacing, and she fumed at the veiled threat. “Why would it matter? Because you fucked me last night? You don’t own me, Roarke.” She jabbed at his chest. “Anymore than I, or the millions of women you’ve fucked, own you.” She pushed at him, her face heating with a fresh wave of anger when he wouldn’t bulge. “Get your big ass off of me!”
    “No.”
    She stilled at that simple word. Before she could react, his hands were under her skirt, tugging at her panties.
    “You want me, Jasmeene, just admit it.”
    “I never said I didn’t.” That stunned him, and his hands faltered for just a second.
    “But who cares if I want you,” she continued while he stared at her speechless. “Plenty of women want you, Roarke, after all, you’re a good lay. But so what? None have ever loved