LITMIR.BIZ

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“And I’d pound the pavement all night, if I thought that Peg Harrington wouldn’t cut us off at the knees. We’ve got to play ball a little or the Feds will kick us out on our asses. They’ll be out there 24/7. So I’ll spend tonight reviewing my notes and seeing if something I haven’t spotted yet jumps out at me.”

      “You get some rest, too,” Ryan advised, yawning as he came to his feet. “You’ve got a packed day tomorrow.”

      “Will do.”

      But both guys knew that meant “won’t do.” Just as they knew they’d be burning the midnight oil themselves.

      It was well past two in the morning when Casey’s doorbell rang.

      She’d been scribbling notes in the margins of her lists, and had pretty much reached a roadblock that couldn’t be skirted until the morning’s interviews.

      She put down her pen and smiled. Only one person had the stamina, the tenacity and the incentive to show up on her doorstep at this ungodly hour.

      She went down the two flights of stairs and peeked outside. Then she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

      “Hi,” she greeted her guest with a smug grin. “Here for breakfast?”

      Hutch walked inside, kicked the door shut and dragged Casey into his arms. “Damn straight.” He was already unbuttoning her shirt as he covered her mouth with his. He lifted her off the floor and turned sharply, pressing her against the wall as he continued yanking off her clothes. “First time will be right here,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Then I’ll take you to bed.”

      “It’s four flights,” she reminded him breathlessly, unzipping his fly. “I might not leave you with the strength.”

      “Try me.”

      “I plan to.”

      CHAPTER SEVEN

       Day Two

       Krissy rolled over and hugged Oreo. She buried her face in his soft fur. Like always when it was dark. And here, it stayed dark whenever the lamp wasn’t on. The night-light helped. It looked just like hers. It kept her from getting too scared.

       The bed was soft. The blanket was, too. And she was wearing a nightgown now. The pajamas were gone. They’d been gone for a long time.

       With her eyes shut, she could pretend she was home. She hadn’t been able to do that before. Too many bad things had happened. But since she drank the milkshake, the bad things were going away. She felt warm and sleepy. She’d been happy to climb into bed. The hand that stroked her hair as she went to sleep felt like her mommy’s. The voice was gentle like her mommy’s. Maybe she’d dreamed the whole scary day.

       Maybe when the lamp went back on, she’d be in her own bed. Then she could tell her mommy about the bad nightmare.

       If her mommy had already left for work, she could always tell Ashley.

       But she didn’t really want to.

       Not anymore.

      With a huge yawn, Casey towel-dried her hair. The sun was just rising outside her bathroom window. An hour and ten minutes of sleep. Not exactly the requisite amount for a productive day. Yet Casey had never felt more energized. If it weren’t for the case preying on her mind, she would have loved nothing more than to stay in bed with Hutch until noon, making up for lost time. He was an amazing lover, and with weeks, sometimes months, separating their visits, the intensity of their time together was pretty damned breath catching.

      But those extra hours were not meant to be. Not this time. Not when both of them were committed to finding Krissy Willis.

      Casey came out of the bathroom to find Hutch tossing aside his towel and pulling on his clothes. He glanced up as she walked across the bedroom in her terry robe, and shot her a very sexy, very sated grin.

      “Thanks for the best shower I’ve had in ages,” he said. “I barely remember getting clean.”

      “You did,” she assured him. “I washed your back myself.”

      “Among other parts.”

      “And you returned the favor.”

      Hutch pulled her against him for a long, deep kiss. “To be continued tonight.”

      “It’s a date.”

      “By the way,” he told her, shrugging into his shirt and buttoning it. “I brought you a present.”

      Casey’s brows rose. “Really. What is it?”

      “First comes the where. Then the what.”

      “Now you’ve really got me curious.”

      “Good.” Hutch finished buttoning his shirt. “Then give me a half hour. I’ll be back with two cups of strong coffee, and your gift.”

      “It’s in your car?”

      “Nope. But close by. And that’s all I’m going to say.” He gave her a sly wink. “See you in thirty.”

      True to his word, Hutch knocked on the door twenty-eight minutes later.

      Casey opened the door, and blinked. She was expecting the cardboard tray of steaming coffee that Hutch clutched in his right hand. But she wasn’t expecting the leash wrapped around his left. Or what was at the other end—a handsome red bloodhound. The dog sat obediently by Hutch’s side, his deep hazel eyes soulful and curious, his high-curved tail wagging back and forth as he stared at Casey.

      “Your gift has arrived,” Hutch announced.

      “A bloodhound?” Stunned, Casey found herself bending down and stroking the dog’s glossy head. “You brought me a bloodhound?”

      “Not just any bloodhound. A human scent evidence dog. Certified, but retired. Hero drove up with Grace and me. He came straight from Quantico. He fulfilled his two-and-a-half years of training. Unfortunately, after his certification, his handler discovered that he was a terrible air traveler. Which doesn’t cut it. The team hated retiring him—evidently, he was a star pupil in his training class. But they had no choice. Anyway, I spoke to the breeder and offered to find a new home for him. I knew how much you wanted a dog, particularly a bloodhound. Now you have one.”

      “A human scent evidence dog,” Casey murmured, still stroking Hero’s head. Hutch was right. She was crazy about dogs. She’d had one most of her life. And bloodhounds were a particular passion of hers. She and Target, her last bloodhound, had gone through tracking and trailing classes together, right up to the time when he’d passed away at the ripe old age of twelve. She missed those classes terribly. But the time commitment was too extensive for her to continue once she’d started Forensic Instincts. Still, the company was under control now, growing but settled. And bloodhounds were noble and unique—far too special to pass up. Plus, her life seemed a little empty without a canine companion.

      “Like I said, he just turned three,” Hutch was telling her. “He’s sharp, fiercely loyal, and has an olfactory sense that’s off the charts. Oh, and his instincts are keen, so he’ll even fit in with your company name.”

      A smile curved Casey’s lips. “Hey, Hero,” she greeted him, scratching his long ears. “I love your name. And I have a gut feeling it suits you.”

      In response, Hero crossed the threshold and began slobbering enthusiastically at Casey’s face.

      “I take it you know they drool,” Hutch commented.

      “Profusely.” Casey laughed. “And they’re stubborn as hell. Sounds like most men.”

      “Very cute.”

      “I thought so.” Casey turned her attention back to Hero. “We have only a small backyard for you.

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