In the Dead of Night

by Linda Castillo

  He worked the bra from her shoulders. His fingers brushed at the sensitive flesh of her belly when he unzipped her jeans. Sara’s legs trembled so violently, she wasn’t sure she could step out of them, but she managed.

  Wearing nothing more than her panties, she moved to climb onto the bed. But Nick stopped her. Taking her hand, he turned her to face him. Light bled in through the partially open door. Sara could see the dark shadows of his eyes. The taut slant of his mouth. He was fully aroused, his breathing rushing out as if he’d just run a mile.

  Dipping his head slightly, he took her mouth in a kiss. He might as well have doused her body with gasoline and tossed a match because Sara went up in flames. Her blood felt superheated, as if it were searing her veins. She kissed Nick with wild abandon. Locking her hands with his, he backed her toward the wall.

  Her back made contact, but that didn’t stop him. He kept coming until he pressed full length against her. Sara’s senses spun with overload. There was too much sensation. Too much pleasure. Her brain couldn’t seem to process it all.

  But her body could.

  A sigh slid from her lips when he took her hands and slid them along the wall so that they were above her head. He captured her sigh with his mouth, stealing her breath, the last of her rational thought.

  Moving his right hand lower, he slid her panties downward. Sara could feel his hand trembling against her. She wanted to tell him everything was going to be all right. That she was nervous, too. But she was so caught up in the moment, her voice failed her. All she could do was speak to him with her body.

  Her panties fell away. She gasped when he lifted her, wedging himself between her knees and pressing her against the wall. He took her mouth with a hunger that verged on insanity. At the same time he slid into her center and went deep.

  The shock of pleasure wrenched a cry from her throat. Lurching forward, she opened, took him more deeply inside her. He began to move in long, slow strokes, and the room spun into gray.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nick leaned back into the pillow and watched the light from the candle flicker and dance on the ceiling. Next to him, Sara slept with the soundness of an exhausted child. After being alone for so long, he should have taken comfort in the warmth of her body against his and the steady rhythm of her breathing. He should be enjoying the afterglow of one of the most erotic nights of his life.

  But Nick was troubled. He’d been lying next to her for nearly three hours, sleepless, unable to turn off his mind. Dawn was less than an hour away now. He wanted to believe he was just keyed up from a night of intense lovemaking. But he was honest enough with himself to admit the problem was a hell of a lot more complicated than the aftereffects of mind-blowing sex.

  Sara was everything a man could ever want in a life partner and more. She was funny and intelligent and sexy as hell. She could be maddeningly stubborn and headstrong, but her flaws balanced her good points and only made him want her more. He should have been overjoyed that he’d been lucky enough to find her.

  But then that was the heart of the problem.

  After Nancy’s death, Nick had sworn he would never lay his heart on the line again. That kind of love was too fragile. He knew all too well that fate could dole out unfathomable grief and loss. Nick needed to keep his life on an even keel. Perhaps he would be willing to risk falling in love if he’d had more time to heal. But it had only been a year. Lying in the semidarkness, his heart in turmoil, the thought of love sent a cold blade of fear right through his center.

  God in heaven, was it possible he’d fallen in love with Sara in the short time he’d known her?

  He actually heard his breathing rate increase as the realization bled into his psyche. His heart began to pound. Sweat slicked his forehead….

  “Nick?”

  Not wanting her to see him like this, Nick sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He put his face in his hands and tried to get a grip. His body jolted when she set her hand on his arm.

  “My God, you’re trembling.” Sitting up, she pulled the covers to her chest. Concern showed in her eyes when she made eye contact. “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t want to look at her. Didn’t want her to know he was falling for her and that the thought sent him into a state of unadulterated terror.

  “I’m fine,” he snapped. “Leave it alone.”

  “Was it a dream?”

  Dislodging her hand from his arm, he stood. He found his jeans draped over the chair and yanked them on. “No.”

  “Then what’s going on?”

  Nick started for the living room. He had to get out of there. Away from her questions, her misplaced concern and the kind of temptation even a cautious man couldn’t resist. He didn’t need her. Didn’t want what she represented in his life. Damn it, he needed things to be on an even keel and she was screwing it up for him.

  At the counter, Nick immersed himself in the simple chore of making coffee. He scooped beans and poured water and tried not to think of what he’d let happen.

  “Nick.”

  He didn’t want to turn and face her. He didn’t want to look into her eyes and see caring and concern and an array of other emotions he couldn’t reciprocate. He didn’t want her to see what he knew was written all over his face. Or feel the heady pull of desire every time he laid eyes on her.

  “Go back to bed,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  When he didn’t respond, she crossed to him, grasped his arm and turned him to her. “Talk to me. Please.”

  She wore the denim shirt he’d worn the night before. The hem fell to mid-thigh. The sleeves were too long and covered her hands. Beneath the denim, he saw curves he didn’t want to acknowledge. Soft flesh and secret places. Worst of all, he saw compassion in her eyes and another emotion he didn’t want to name.

  He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t think he could put into words the emotions banging around inside him. He cared about her more than he wanted to. More than was wise. They’d made love twice, but already he wanted her again. He knew it was selfish and stupid and self-centered, but part of him was angry with her for doing that to him.

  “What happened between us was amazing.” God, he sounded like an idiot. “But I’m in no frame of mind to be getting tangled up right now.”

  Her eyes narrowed, her expression went wary. “I didn’t realize we were tangled up.”

  “Let me spell it out for you then,” he snapped. “I’ve been a widower for a year. I’m not ready to jump into any kind of relationship.”

  “Nick, we’re friends. Last night…was spontaneous. It doesn’t have to happen again if we don’t want it to.”

  That she was being so reasonable only served to make him angrier. Couldn’t she see that this had been a bad idea? Couldn’t she see it would end badly? Nick wasn’t ready to have his heart ripped out of his chest again. Not in this damn lifetime.

  “We had sex, Sara. It was good. Damn good. But it was a mistake.”

  “Where is this coming from?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. This is the way it’s got to be. The way I want it. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

  “You mean as you were tearing my clothes off and whispering sweet nothings in my ear?” She choked out a sound of disbelief. “Tell me where this is coming from.”

  “I needed you.” Nick steeled himself against the pain in her eyes, reminded himself things were better this way. “I needed…to be close. You were here.”

  Raising her hands as if to fend him off, she stepped away. “Don’t you dare denigrate what happened between us.”

  “I’m being truthful.”

  “You’re being a son of a bitch, and I don’t understand why.”

  He latched on to the spark of anger he saw in her eyes. He wanted her angry. Wanted her to lash out. Wanted her to hate him. God knew he deserved it. It was safer for her to hate him than it was for her to love him….

  “If you want to go another
round I can accommodate you.”

  Her eyes widened when Nick started toward her. She took a step back, but he trapped her at the counter, locked her in with both arms. He ducked his head to kiss her, but she turned her head. “Cut it out,” she snapped.

  “Come on,” he whispered, hating himself.

  “Nick, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but this is not you.”

  “What you see is what you get.” He tried to kiss her again. “Come on…”

  “Stop it.” Shoving him away, she ducked beneath his arm and fled to the guest bedroom.

  Nick held his ground in the kitchen, wishing there was another way to do this. There was, of course, but he had neither the energy nor the inclination. He knew if he spent any more time with her, they would wind up in bed and he would be hopelessly lost.

  No, he thought. Better to drive her away now. Make a clean break so no one got hurt. He wasn’t ready for anything more complicated. He was certainly in no frame of mind to get tangled in a relationship. She deserved better. Nick figured he could still oversee the case. He’d assign his officer to watch her and keep her safe until she left.

  He found her in the guest bedroom, lugging her suitcase onto the bed. The look of hurt in her eyes just about undid him, but he didn’t go to her. “I’ll drive you to the bed-and-breakfast in town,” he said.

  She yanked open the zipper. “I’ll drive myself.”

  “Look, I may be a jerk, but we both know it would be silly for you to go out alone this time of morning.”

  She glared at him over the top of the suitcase. “Like you care.”

  More than you’ll ever know. “I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  “You want to keep yourself safe.”

  The words struck a note, but he didn’t let himself react. He stared at her, wondering if she had any idea how desperately he wanted to go to her.

  The chirp of his cell phone interrupted. Growling, he yanked it from the clip on his belt. “Yeah.”

  “Chief?” B.J.’s voice came on the line. “Call just came in about a possible 10-50F on the coast highway.”

  The Cape Darkwood PD used the ten-code system. A 10-50F was a traffic accident with a possible fatality. “When?”

  “Sometime last night.” The officer paused. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Chief. But the caller said there’s a red Mercedes convertible at the bottom of a ravine.”

  Red Mercedes convertible.

  The description echoed in his head. His mother drove a red Mercedes convertible. She would have taken the coast road back to town last night.

  The knowledge sent a rush of adrenaline through his system. “Dispatch paramedics. Call the highway patrol.”

  “They’re en route. ETA ten minutes.”

  “Where did it happen?”

  “Half a mile north of Fall River Road.”

  The words hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. It was the exact place where Nancy had lost control and gone over the edge and into a ravine.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Nick disconnected, his heart pounding. He looked at Sara to find her eyes already on him. “I have to leave,” he heard himself say.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “There was an accident. On the coast highway.” Mechanically, he strode to the hall closet and pulled out a slicker. “Description of the vehicle matches my mother’s car. I have to go.”

  She came out into the hall and stood behind him. “How bad?”

  “I don’t know.” Nick wanted to say more. He wanted to put his arms around her and take back all the cruel things he’d said and done. More than anything he didn’t want to come back and find the bungalow empty.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said.

  She said nothing, but he could tell by the look in her eyes she would be gone by the time he got back.

  “Don’t leave, damn it. I’m sorry. I want to talk this out.”

  When he reached out to take her hand, she stepped back. “I hope your mother’s all right.”

  Knowing there was nothing more he could do, Nick turned and headed for the door.

  THE SLAM of the door echoed inside Sara’s heart, bringing with it the deep ache of loneliness. Her mind whirled with news of the accident and the terrible possibility that Nick’s mother had been hurt or killed. She prayed it wasn’t so. He’d already endured so much loss. How much could one man take?

  That brought her back to the situation at hand. The scene between her and Nick replayed in her mind, his words cutting a second time. She knew what he’d been trying to do: push her away by hurting her. She knew he was still recovering from the deaths of his wife and their unborn child. What she didn’t understand was why it had to be all or nothing.

  He’d hurt her tonight. He’d made love to her and then he’d treated her like dirt. Deep inside, Sara knew he hadn’t meant it. But he had intended to hurt her. The smartest thing she could do now was give him some space.

  Still, her heart ached as she gathered her things and tossed them into the suitcase. She resolved to drive until she found a motel. Then she was going to expose the truth about what had happened that night twenty years ago. She didn’t need Nick to do it.

  She was midway to the front door when her cell phone trilled. “Hello?”

  “Sara Douglas? I’m sorry to bother you so early. This is Brett Stocker. I met you yesterday.”

  “Hello, Mr. Stocker.” Wariness rose inside her, and she wondered why he would be calling her when he’d practically thrown them from the house the day before. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m trying to reach Chief of Police Nick Tyson. He’s not answering the cell phone number he gave me.”

  “He’s out on a call. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Well, I wanted to see if Mr. Tyson could meet with me. I found something very disturbing at my father’s home. I need to get it to the authorities.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Let me preface by saying I don’t believe a damn thing you guys said yesterday about my father. He’s a good and decent man. But…this…My God.”

  “Mr. Stocker, what did you find?”

  “After you guys left, I went into my father’s loft. It’s an office of sorts he hasn’t used for years. I was going through the desk, and I found a manuscript.”

  The hairs at her neck prickled. “What kind of manuscript?”

  “Well, it’s sort of a true-crime book. Not quite finished. I started to read, but the damn thing chilled me to the bone. Scared the hell out of me, in fact.”

  “Who’s the author?”

  “Nicholas Tyson collaborating with Richard and Alexandra Douglas.”

  Sara’s heart was beating so hard that for a moment she couldn’t speak. “My parents.”

  “The authors contend that my father was a monster.” He choked out the words as if they were poison. “There’s got to be some kind of mistake. I’d like to clear it up before this gets into the wrong hands. There’s no way he did the things the authors insinuate.”

  “I’d like to see the manuscript.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. It’s pretty…inflammatory. I’ve already taken a copy to my lawyer, but I wanted the police to see it, too. I’m disputing all of it. And I’ll sue to protect my father.”

  Sara’s mind whirled with ways she might be able to gain his cooperation. “I can meet you at the police station.”

  He sighed. “I can’t talk to the police until I’ve heard from my lawyer.”

  “Mr. Stocker, I want to see the manuscript.”

  He sighed. “Look, I’m about an hour from Cape Darkwood. I can meet you.”

  It surprised her that he would make the drive without calling first. But she imagined the contents of the manuscript had rattled him badly. To discover the man who’d raised you was a killer…

  Sara glanced at her watch. Not yet seven o’clock. “It’s still early. Most of the restaurants and cafés in to
wn are only open for lunch.” Her mind spun through alternate meeting places. She didn’t want him at Nick’s. “I can meet you at my parents’ home.” She rattled off directions.

  “I expect strict confidentiality,” he said. “I don’t want to destroy my father’s reputation over unfounded rumors and hearsay.”

  Sara thought of the eight-millimeter tape she and Nick had watched. “All I want to do is find the truth.”

  “I can live with that.” He paused. “I can be there in about an hour.”

  “See you then,” Sara said and disconnected.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sara couldn’t believe Brett Stocker had found the manuscript. What was it doing at the Stocker estate? Had the old man been hiding it all these years?

  She tried to call Nick twice on the drive to the mansion. Both times she got voice mail and left detailed messages. She tried not to imagine him climbing down some ravine to find his mother’s car…or maybe her body. Looking back, even though she’d been angry with him, she wished she’d gone with him. She wouldn’t have been able to help with the rescue or retrieval efforts. But at least he wouldn’t have had to face this alone.

  The sky over the Pacific Ocean churned with purple thunderheads when she pulled into the driveway of the mansion. The morning was cool and crisp, but she knew a storm brewed over the sea and would soon make its way inland.

  She let herself in through the front door and walked to the kitchen. Exhaustion tugged at her as she made coffee. She tried to figure out the best way to handle Stocker and the manuscript. First and foremost, she wanted possession of the book. She wanted its contents verified and made public. If her suspicions were correct, the book would exonerate her father once and for all.

  But even with the case about to explode, Sara couldn’t stop thinking about Nick. About what he could be facing at this very moment. Of all the things they’d shared the night before.

  Only fifteen minutes had passed since she’d spoken to Stocker. With another forty-five minutes to kill, she carried her mug of coffee to the patio and looked out over the sea. The storm clouds roiled threateningly on the horizon, as violent and unpredictable as the sea. Even though the sun had risen in the east, the sky remained overcast.