Intrigue (Elvis Presley Story)

Chapter 24

"Shoot." Olivia's weary sigh whispered against Elvis's eardrums lime a mournful cry. "It's just not working." Still, she somehow found the energy to look over the foot of the unfinished stairs where he was pacing and brighten the entire place with one of her smiles.

No way in hell was he going to let her end up like the dead woman in the photograph major Taylor had shown him after hearing of the attack in the parking lot. Tony Fierro was a lucky man that Elvis and detective Grove got to him before he'd seen the letter that bastard had sent to terrorise her. He wouldn't have settled for just handcuffing him.

Whatever Tony Fierro had been after, somebody else was after, too. They thought olivia had what they wanted, so that put her in danger-and that meant Elvis wasn't going anywhere.

And if there was a connection between dissolving bullets, violent ex-cons and confusing journals, then olivia might not be the only one in danger.

With sawyer and him on unofficial duty, he had sawyer stay with his mother to make sure she stayed safe as well. Their families were safe for now. All he had to worry about tonight was the klutzy brainiac with the killer legs who almost seemed more determined than he was to uncover whatever clues that were written in that journal.

He crossed the room and discarded his jacket on top of the granite-top island he then removed his tie, badge and holster. He looked over to olivia who was leaned back in her chair as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. The night was black outside the old church windows. The air inside was still and stifling. And she'd been staring at that journal for three hours straight.

He felt like enough of a heel, allowing her to make a mini-office in the middle of the construction zone she lived in, and work all evening. But one thing he was learning about olivia miller was that shy didn't mean weak, and it didn't mean she couldn't be stubborn as hell. He'd admire that tenacity in any partner he worked with. He admired it in her.

But enough was enough. for now. She'd showered and changed into a t-shirt and some shorts. And with her long damp hair hanging down around her shoulders, she looked young and fragile. And though one part of him was fighting the temptation brought on by seeing so much creamy skin exposed, another part of him was hating the bruises forming purple and red marks at her collarbone and dappling across her back, arms and legs. He should of gotten there sooner. He never should of let Tony Fierro put his hands on her.

"Why don't you take a break?" He suggested, needing a break himself from the guilt and worry eating him up inside. "Rest your eyes and clear your head. "

"No, thanks." It wasn't that she didn't need to, but that she refused to give up trying to crack the encrypted code in the thick journal they'd found in his father's lockbox. "Everytime I get through one code, another shows up to take its place."

Elvis pulled up one of the stools from the kitchen area and sat beside her. "Could it be something simpler? A single name or number?"

" I thought that might be the case, too." Her shoulders lifted with another sigh, then hitched. Her fingers went to her neck to massage the ache she must be feeling there. Before he could judge whether it was a wise idea or not, Elvis moved behind her and placed his hands there instead.

Her skin was warm to the touch, and every bit as velvety smooth as it looked. She tensed under the unexpected touch, but Elvis wasn't sure he had the strength to pull away.

Just the simple touch of his fingertips to her shoulders sent sent a warm sluice of heat from the point of contact to the roiling worries inside him, taking the edge off those sharp emotions. "Is this okay?" He asked.

Olivia hesitated, then nodded. When she closed her eyes and leaned back into his massage, the turbulence inside him seemed to relax as well.

He barely pressed into her muscles as he moved along her neck and down her arms, not wanting to aggravate any minor injury. Instead, he simply stroked and rubbed, relying on the friction between them to create a soothing heat.