Stripped Naked (Naked Cowboys) by Desiree Holt

certainly hadn’t followed her career in New York, but there must be a damn good reason why she was here instead of there. He dampened the curiosity that edged into his brain. No, not going there. Whatever the reason, it had nothing to do with him and he didn’t give a flying fuck.
    Unbidden, the image of Jinx Malone flashed into his brain. The connection between them had been raw and unexpected. The unbridled sexual attraction—raw lust—that he felt for her was beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. He ignored the buzzing of something that might be a strong emotional connection. Or the fact that despite the ten years in the Big Apple that had given her a patina of sophistication, there was something very real about her.
    But facts were facts. She was a reporter and he had no way of knowing just how much difference there was, if any, between Naomi Richardson and Jinx. Naomi had screwed up a case so badly it had forced his partner and himself into a dangerous situation and resulted in him getting badly wounded. He had both the physical and emotional scars to show for that relationship.
    He’d told himself no more relationships, reporters or otherwise. Looking forward to years alone because he had real trust issues wasn’t all that appealing, but it beat the alternative. People never thought about men putting their hearts out there and getting them broken. It violated man rules. He’d promised himself never to walk through that door again. Yet here he was trying to rationalize this attraction to Jinx Malone.
    He gave himself a mental kick in the pants for sharing with her what little information he currently had on his investigation. He just hoped he hadn’t made a big mistake in doing so.
    Or that he wasn’t making another one by going to her house tonight.
    Just sex.
    Pushing Jinx and X-rated thoughts of their upcoming night firmly to the back of his mind, he picked up his phone and dialed Charlie Whittaker’s number.
    “I couldn’t give you this when you called,” his old boss began. “It’s a sensitive case and I had to get clearance to discuss it with you.”
    “Appreciate it. So what’s landed in our collective laps?”
    “We’re keeping way off the radar,” the man continued. “But I had a hunch as soon as you described the body to me, especially that part about the face blown away and the damage to the hands. Definitely halts identification.”
    “So what have you got?” Dillon asked.
    He could almost see Charlie shaking his head in irritation. “It’s the damndest thing, Dillon. Ever heard of the Pinnacle Hedge Fund?”
    “Just vaguely. Way beyond my financial capabilities.”
    “Know what you mean. Mine too. Anyway, one of their clients figured out there was something wrong with the statements he was getting, wanted to discuss the status of his account and got the royal brushoff.”
    Dillon frowned. “That’s not such a good sign.”
    “No kidding. So he decided to call for an audit, and surprise. Bernie Madoff all over again. A carefully constructed pyramid scheme with new investments paying off the old ones. And somehow the money has all disappeared.”
    Dillon leaned forward, his interest definitely piqued. “Just gone?”
    “Bank accounts all but cleaned out.”
    “What do the partners say?”
    “Funny you should ask.” Whittaker’s chuckle had a dry sound. “We’ve only been able to question one of them. Vince Drummond. He blames it all on the partner who’s suddenly gone missing. Bert Redmond. Says he didn’t know anything either, until the audit.”
    “But you think he’s lying,” Dillon guessed.
    “You got it. There’s just something about him that isn’t ringing true. Now with this body, well, the captain and I chewed it over. We think the body is Redmond’s, that Drummond’s the one who stole the money and has it stashed somewhere. As long as we keep looking for Bert, he’s in the clear.”
    “And when everything dies down, he can relocate and start