Apache Nights Read Free

trying to put me in a G-string and thigh-high hose?”
    â€œNot bad, Detective.” She’d almost got it right. “But it was a padded bra and spiked heels.”
    â€œI wasn’t wearing a skimpy thong?”
    â€œNo.” He leveled his gaze. “You weren’t wearing anything down there.”
    The coffee sloshed over the side of her cup, nearlyburning both of their hands. She flinched, but he didn’t move. He’d just taken control. He’d rattled her senses.
    She regained her composure. “I should drag you off by your hair. Pull it out of that perverted skull of yours.”
    â€œNow that I’d like to see.” He stood right where he was, challenging her to make the first move. She glanced at the rottweiler, and Kyle gave her a half-cocked smile. She would pay hell to get past his dog. Or him for that matter. She might be a highly effective cop, a Special Section detective who tracked serial killers and worked on high profile cases, but she’d come to him for training, for force-on-force drills, for the fight that was supposedly raging in her blood. No matter what, they both knew his tactical skills out-matched hers. His specialty was close-quarter combat, battlefield techniques perfected by the U.S. Special Forces, U.S. Army Rangers and U.S. Marine Corps.
    â€œIs that spiel you gave me true?” he asked.
    â€œWhat spiel?”
    He set her coffee on the counter. “That bit about you going through a tough time. About having personal problems you can’t resolve.”
    â€œI wasn’t lying.”
    Although she glanced away, something flashed in her eyes. Confusion, he thought. She appeared to be at war with herself.
    Were her problems real? Or was she a skilled actress?
    He pushed her further, looking for answers. “Did someone hurt you? Is that what’s wrong?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou didn’t get in too deep with some guy? With some jerk who screwed you over?” He knew there were men who took advantage, who made promises they didn’t keep. But Kyle wasn’t one of them. His relationships never went beyond sex, beyond raw, honest urges.
    â€œThere’s no one,” she told him. “It isn’t like that.”
    â€œThen what’s going on?”
    â€œNothing I care to talk about.” Her chest rose and fell, her breathing accelerated, just a little, just enough for him to notice.
    She wasn’t acting, he decided. She was putting herself on the line, something he doubted she did very often. He couldn’t imagine what kinds of problems a tough-willed detective like her couldn’t resolve. It made him hungry to kiss her, to taste her confusion, to let her seduce him. But he wasn’t about to break his self-imposed code.
    He didn’t sleep with white women.
    Of course that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to help her. Joyce had come to him for a legitimate reason.
    He turned away. “I’ll get the milk for your coffee.”
    She blinked. “Are you calling a truce?”
    â€œI’m just trying to be a halfway decent host.” He went to the refrigerator, removed the carton and gave Clyde a silent signal, letting the dog know the upcoming threat wouldn’t be real. “I’m going to train you.”
    â€œYou are?” She accepted the milk and poured it into her cup. “What’s your schedule like?”
    â€œI’ll have to check my calendar.”
    She glanced up. “I’ve got time off this week. Or is that too soon for you?”
    â€œI’ll try to work something out,” he told her, even though he’d already worked it out.
    She stirred her coffee, and he curbed a carnivorous smile.
    Joyce’s first session and the surprise attack that went with it was about to begin.

Two
    J oyce sipped her coffee. It was strong, but it was far from poisonous. “This is actually pretty good.”
    â€œGlad you think so.” He came