Free When Night Falls by Jenna Mills

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    He stepped closer. To emphasize his point, he told himself. Not to share his body heat. “I’m a cautious man. I don’t trust easily or blindly. Do you really think I wouldn’t learn everything I could about the woman in charge of finding my daughter?”
    “My personal life is none of your business.”
    “When it affects me and mine, you better believe your life is my business. I know why you think Emily ran away, Detective. Because that’s exactly what you did. You preferred the streets to Daddy dearest’s roof.”
    The light sparked into her whiskey eyes, the defiance and intelligence he’d come to expect. A hint of color brought her cheeks to life. “So this is how you operate?” she asked, and God help him, she almost sounded disappointed. “Crowding? Badgering? Is that how you crushed and gobbled up all your competitors?”
    So he wasn’t the only one who’d done his homework.
    “For such a smart man—” she pushed on, and he could feel her words against his cheek “—you’re not acting very smart. Even hoodlums know better than trying to press their advantage with an officer of the law.”
    Back off, he warned himself. Don’t push it. He couldn’t find Emmie if he was behind bars and knew Wallace Clark’s daughter wouldn’t hesitate to put him there.
    But he could no more ease up than he could heal the wound at the corner of her mouth with a kiss.
    “You going to press assault charges against me?” he asked softly, extending his pinkie to stroke her cheekbone. “I bet that would make Daddy proud.”
    Betrayal flashed brilliantly in her eyes. Anger. He readied himself for verbal retaliation, received physical instead. She slapped his hand away and ducked under his arm, gracefully spun out of his reach.
    Liam was admiring the athleticism of her move when he saw her sway.
    Instinct had him reaching for her; the warning in her gaze stopped him cold.
    “I’m not a man who trusts anyone with my life,” he said instead. “Or my daughter’s. Nor am I a man who just stands on the sidelines and waits for results.”
    She pushed the tangled hair from her face. “And that’s why you felt the need to have me investigated?”
    “A smart man learns all he can about his opponent.”
    “That’s what you think I am? Your opponent?”
    The thought, the disappointment in her voice, burned. “You think my daughter ran away. I know she didn’t. How would you describe our relationship?”
    She narrowed her eyes, held his gaze long enough for him to see the debate in hers. Then she sighed and glanced toward the street. Music still blared from the various clubs, laughter and animated conversation still carried on the cold wind. He didn’t know what exactly held her gaze, didn’t want to look away from her to find out.
    “I wanted to be your friend,” she said, turning to him. “I wanted to help. Has no one wanted that before? Is that the problem? Is that why you hold me at arm’s length rather than letting me in?”
    It was his turn to go very still. Her words kept rushing through him, like a sip of exotic wine. Unexpected, jolting, dangerously seductive.
    “Sorry, Detective—” he forced himself to speak “—but my daughter is missing. I don’t have time for friends and intimate midnight liaisons.”
    Didn’t have time for her to pick him apart, didn’t have time to fight the desire to silence her questions by answering one or two of his own. Just how would that smart mouth of hers taste? How would it feel? Was it possible to kiss a wound and make it all better? To make the hurt go away?
    And whose hurt would it be? Hers? Or his.
    What would she do if he tried?
    Jessica frowned. “Hate to break it to you, tough guy, but chasing you around and making sure you don’t get into more trouble is hardly a good use of my time, either. If you want your daughter back, you need to let me do my job.”
    “No one is stopping you from doing your job. I’m just taking out a little