Chapter 26

Ash didhis damn best to block out the image of Kayla’s ruched nipples pushing against the thin fabric of her camisole.

He was here to inspect the damage to her vehicle and to make sure she was all right. Not ogle her invade-his-dreams body. His stomach still hadn’t fully reseated itself after the free fall it had taken while reading her text.

Using a key or some other metal instrument, the perp had carved TRAITOROUS on the upper panel of the passenger side door. He angled around the sleek black Merc and found BITCH scrawled on the driver’s door.

Ash clenched his teeth, furious with the weak-minded asshole who got their jollies off terrifying women. “Where was your car parked when this happened?”

“In the parking garage near my office building.”

He wanted to ask where the hell Mason was, then recalled she only used his services during the week. Something he’d have to persuade her to change or hire a security firm to fill in the gap.

“Are there cameras in the garage?”

She nodded. “The police are working on getting a copy of the video.”

“I’ll check in with them tomorrow and see what I can find out.”

“Don’t trouble yourself. I’m sure they’ll let me know if they get a clear picture of the vandal.”

“Whether they do or don’t, I’d like to see the footage.”

“Why?”

“Because a person can give away their identity in more ways than facial recognition.”

She stood only a couple of feet away, close enough for him to reach out, pull her to him, and claim those tempting lips that were even now pursing to make some inane argument. You would think a lobbyist, especially one running such a successful firm, would know how to accept help.

A thought struck him. One that made his already tortured stomach clench tight. Maybe it was his help she didn’t want. The realization bothered him, more than it should.

What did he expect? Her undying gratitude? When he’d pushed, no—shoved—her away at every opportunity.

Disgusted by his conflicting feelings, he made a mental note to ask Detective Morgan to review the surveillance video to see if there might be a connection, no matter how slim, to the governor’s assassination.

“Do you have any thoughts on who did this?” he asked, finally turning to her, keeping his attention on her face.

Which was damn hard.

She stepped closer, and Ash’s pulse shot to one-fifty in a single bound. Her hand reached out, and she smoothed her fingertips over the crudely etched letters on the door.

Ash had never been so envious of a hunk of metal before.

“I’ve been called bitch a few times in my life. Once, in almost the exact same way.” She produced a smile, but there was no humor in it. “A hazard of the job. At least, for female lobbyists.” Her expression turned serious. “But I can’t think of any reason why someone would fling traitorous bitch at me.”

“Rewind a sec. Someone has written trash on your car before?”

She nodded and lowered her hand. “At university.”

“Give me the details.”

“The one has nothing to do with the other.”

“You’re a detective now, are you?”

Her brows bunched together. “You can’t really believe a hotheaded young man from my past had anything to do with this.” She pointed at the etching.

“I’ve learned to rule out nothing. Some criminals have exceptionally long memories, especially if they believe they’ve been wronged.” A hard lesson Zeke had learned not long ago.

A hint of vulnerability penetrated her features, but she seemed to thrust the emotion away to make room for the ever-present, mocking curl at the corner of her mouth.

“This must be one happy week for you,” she said.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “Someone hates me more than you.”

The slap of her words had the same stinging effect as one of his grandmother’s pointed looks. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t like me, either.”

His attention shifted to her mouth, to the infuriating curl at the corner. If he pressed his lips there, would it disappear or deepen? Welcome or repel? “You’re wrong.”

“Sometimes, but not in this.”

After his meeting with Liv, he’d shucked his jacket and tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, and unfastened the top two buttons. Now, he cursed his decision to expose the flesh at the base of his neck. If he’d left his armor on, he wouldn’t now be tortured by the whisper of Kayla’s warm breaths against his skin.

Had he stepped closer? Or had she?

“I’ve got a problem with your profession. Not you.”

“I am my profession, Ash,” she whispered. “You cannot carve it out of me and expect me to survive.”

Hadn’t he said something similar to Zeke a few days ago?

Unable to stop himself, he brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, startling her, and continued the caress across her jawline to her chin. The tip of his thumb skimmed upward to her lower lip. He skirted the edge until he reached the curl.

He smoothed the mock away. Did the same to the other side. “I don’t know. I’m pretty good with a fillet knife.”

Then he did the last thing he should, and kissed her.