Free Criminal Promises by Nikki Duncan Page A

No evasions. No explanations.
How was she supposed to argue with a man who wouldn’t argue?
    Instead, he stood before her with sweat
soaking his hair and running down his temples. His T-shirt clung
tightly to his chiseled torso and had her thinking more about the
masterful sculpture that was his body. She’d love to explore him,
to again feel the press of him against her.
    She bit into her lower lip. Sweaty men had
never done it for her. Harte did. The leashed power he’d only
partially shown as he ripped into the bag amazed her. Aroused her
when she shouldn’t be aroused.
    Focus! She swung her legs off the bench and went to Harte.
Struggling to organize her thoughts, she took the gloves he’d
removed and carried them to the storage cabinet. His spicy and
masculine scent trailed her. Awareness fluttered in her gut. “I
need answers.”
    She hadn’t been afraid of him when he’d
looked ready to murder, but now, with raw energy pulsing off him,
he threatened her. She craved him. His passion. His ability to make
her forget her own name with a brief kiss. Adalia wasn’t the only
thing she needed answers about, but she was priority.
    He said nothing. Maggie turned back to see
him on the floor inspecting the bar extending out the base of the
bag. When he stood, he looked at the ceiling, grinning.
    Now that’s power.
    His pleasure with the bag filled her with
pleasure. She liked that he’d found something in her home that
pleased him. Too much of that pleasure was detrimental to her
safety.
    “This is genius. Who did
it?”
    “Me.”
    His head jerked to her in
shock. “You?”
    “Yes.” He could have
sounded a little less archaic in his shock. “You see, we little
women aren’t helpless. We don’t need chauvinistic men around to do
things for us, tell us what to think, or when to move.”
    “ I never said you were
helpless.” He wrinkled his brow and slid his gaze down her body
before slowly working his way back up. “And I’m not a
chauvinist.”
    “Great. Then behave as if
you believe that.” His survey of her body had her blood
sizzling…not entirely from anger. “Why wasn’t I told Adalia was
out? Why is she here?”
    “I don’t have those
answers.”
    She crossed her arms over
her chest, braced her legs apart. She’d wanted to be calm and
rational. Too bad. “Harte—”
    “Mags—” He stepped forward
with a hand out. “Maggie, can’t you trust me on this?”
    “I could ask the same of
you. Things were sane until you showed up. But now a woman has been
killed, I’ve dealt with one screwed up prank after another, and my
husband’s killer has been in my home. You give me no answers, but
want me to trust you.”
    “It would be
easier.”
    “For you.” Unable to stand
still and unwilling to pace nervously, she moved to the punching
bag. Bending down, she slid the pole from the floor up into the
base of the bag. “You should have warned me.”
    “I couldn’t.”
    She opened her mouth and
then shut it. Disbelief gripped her throat. “You’re trying to
decide if I’m somehow involved. Do you think I as somehow
responsible for Mike being there that day?”
    “No.” His pinched
expression belied the adamant tone as he raked his hand through his
hair. “But we didn’t want to alarm you in the event nothing more
happened.”
    “You’re days too late.”
After securing the hook to hold the pole in the base of the bag,
she grabbed the bag with both hands, twisted it counter-clockwise
to release it from the locked position in the ceiling and then
shoved it along its track to the cabinet in the wall.
“ That’s why you
agreed to move in here.”
    “My not wanting to be here
had nothing to do with you.”
    “Sure. Every girl knows
that really means it has everything to do with her.” With nothing
else to do, she went and sat on the end of his weight bench. “You
make believing you impossible.”
    His shoulders dropped as he
walked over and knelt in front of her. “My captain, when I