by Jami Alden
Megan, who was going to find herself in serious deep shit if she didn’t stop sniffing around places she didn’t need to be. She’d found the Web site, as he’d discovered last night from the access report. Not that he was worried. He knew there was no way she could access it without a code or find out who was running it. Still, the bits and pieces of information she was picking up were bound to lead somewhere if they weren’t careful. He couldn’t let them be discovered. Not until he was ready.
Stephanie’s bottom lip quivered.
“You won’t talk to them, will you?” She shook her head, and the fear in her eyes, the knowledge of what would happen if she talked, made his cock throb in time with his heartbeat. “That’s good,” he said. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”
His breath sped up as he flipped her onto her stomach and yanked her to her knees. He shoved into her tight, unwilling body, reveling in her gasp of pain. Good whore that she was, she quickly muffled it with a feigned moan of pleasure. But he could see the way her hands fisted in the sheets, white-knuckled desperate. The way her skin flinched when he put his hands on her.
She took it, like they all did. They knew what to expect when they were called in to see him. Did they suspect that he was the monster of their nightmares?
Whore. She made herself available to anyone who would pay for it. She may have catered to an exclusive clientele, but that didn’t change what she was. She deserved every ounce of pain he inflicted. She wasn’t worthy of pleasure.
He’d save all of it, the gentle touches, the passionate kisses, for Megan. He’d worship her body when he got the chance, drown her in pleasure until she forgot everything but his touch.
Soon, he thought as he collapsed on top of the blonde. Soon.
Chapter 12
I f Cole had learned anything over the past few days, it was that he should stay the hell away from Megan Flynn. After a fifteen-year career in which he’d followed all the rules, dotted every I, crossed every T, he was now holding on to his detective shield by the skin of his teeth. All because Megan Flynn had a way of drawing him in, getting under his skin, and getting him to make stupid choices in some misguided attempt to protect her.
He should be home, relaxing with a beer in front of the TV. Or better yet, he should take advantage of the break in the weather and take his boat out to the San Juans, use his enforced vacation to get his head together. Focus on what was important and not let himself get dragged down by a desperate woman chasing a lost cause.
Yeah, he should be doing a lot of things besides sitting here in the dark, parked across the street from her house like some creep, waiting for her lights to go out so he could go home and get some sleep. But damn her, she’d thrown herself into her misguided mission to save her brother with no regard for her own safety, had put herself in dangerous situations. It was only a matter of time before she ended up hurt. Or worse.
And the need to protect her overrode everything, including any last shred of common sense.
He was hopeful that her run-in with the Seattle PD and Special Agent Tasso had reined her in a bit. Cole had spent the day tailing Megan. Her first stop had been to pick up Devany to take her to breakfast at a diner near the trailer park where the girl lived. Cole couldn’t hear their conversation, but Devany was pissed about something. She slumped in her chair, picking at her food as Megan talked to her. After only a few minutes, Devany pointed an accusing finger at Megan and stormed out.
After breakfast, Megan had dropped Devany back home. To Cole’s surprise, Megan didn’t go back to Redwood Acres. He wouldn’t have put it past her to take the opportunity to go poke around the Slasher’s latest crime scene.
Instead she headed back toward her place, to the café where she liked to work. She spent several hours on her computer and made a few phone calls. Nothing out of the ordinary.
And no visit from the knight in shining armor who had so gallantly rescued Megan from the clutches of the evil police, Cole thought with a grimace. Not that Cole had wanted to see Megan charged with breaking and entering, no matter how big a part she played in getting him suspended—that was all on his stupid ass, and he was kidding himself if he tried to convince himself different.
But it stuck in his craw that Captain America had been able to come in with his money and big-shot lawyer and make Megan’s mistake disappear, all while Cole was sitting in Lieutenant Chin’s offices ass handed to him.
A background check on the guy had revealed nothing—the guy was as perfect on paper as he was in the flesh. College, a stint in the army Rangers with honorable discharge. Now he owned his own computer-consulting company, which clearly provided enough money and connections to help him bail Megan out of any scrape she found herself in.
That wasn’t the only background check Cole had run in the past couple days. Sean’s pending execution was bringing people out of the woodwork and into Megan’s life, not all of them with records as spotless as Nate Brewster’s. Guys like Jimmy Caparulo. Cole grimaced as he remembered the story Megan had told him about Jimmy.
Based on what Cole had discovered, since he’d left the army a little over three years ago, trouble was pretty much a constant in Jimmy Caparulo’s life. His record was spotted with multiple DUIs and two arrests for assault. After his gig at Club One, he’d been hired by a private security firm, basically working as muscle for hire, his employers willing to overlook his past brushes with the law. Megan wasn’t totally off in her assessment, though—turned out Jimmy still lived with his aunt and contributed a significant portion of his paycheck to pay off her medical bills.
Ailing aunt or not, Jimmy was trouble, no doubt about it, and the way Megan attracted trouble like bees to honey…
Right, chump. If that’s how you want to justify following her all over the place and sitting out here in the dark with your thumb up your ass, that’s your business. Admit it. You can’t stay away from her. You can’t stop thinking about how it felt to kiss her, touch her, but you’re too much of a coward to go up those stairs to her and go after what you really want.
Cole slammed his head back against the seat. What was he doing, lurking after her, telling himself he just wanted to keep her safe, when all he wanted to do was go up there, strip her naked, take her to bed, make the world disappear for both of them for a while.
He was so fucking pathetic, sitting down here in the dark, hard as a spike at the thought of her, knowing he wasn’t going to do a goddamn thing about it. He wasn’t being arrogant when he acknowledged that if he showed up on her doorstep, if he put on the full-court press, he was confident he could get Megan into bed.
The chemistry was still there, blazingly hot on both sides, as evidenced by their scorching, near-naked tussle on her couch the other day. And Megan, for all that she tried to hold herself together with her iron will, had so many cracks in her veneer that she would shatter into a million pieces with a mere poke of his finger.
But she’d hate herself afterward. Cole could live with her hating him, but he didn’t want to put self-loathing on the menu with all the other stuff she had to deal with. As for himself… she had him so twisted in knots without even trying. He’d done nothing but fuck up since he’d seen her again, and no good could come from getting more deeply involved.
Which was why he needed to get his ass home, and first thing tomorrow he was going to pack up his boat and head out to Lopez Island. He’d rent a cabin, fish, run, spend the next two weeks getting his shit together.
Sean’s execution was only six days away. By the time Cole got back, it would be all over, and Megan would be forced to move on, one way or another.
He swallowed at the morbid thought. But he could do nothing to save Sean, and despite his misguided efforts, he couldn’t save Megan from her pain.
The light in Megan’s living room went off. She was calling it a night, and now Cole could too.
He was reaching to turn the key in the ignition when something caught his eye. No fucking way. Megan appeared on the l
anding, her slim form hidden by a heavy overcoat. She picked her way carefully down the stairs, and as Cole squinted to see her in the murky streetlight, he saw that she was wearing lethally high heels.
She minced her way to the car, and as her face came into full view, Cole jerked back in surprise. Since he’d known her, Megan had always gone light on the makeup unless it was a really special occasion.
Cole wondered what the hell she was up to tonight. Even from across the street, he could see the slick red lips and heavily lined eyes. Her usually wavy hair was pin straight, spilling down her back almost to her waist. She slipped her coat off to toss it in the backseat, and Cole nearly choked on the sip of water he’d just taken.
In defiance of the frigid, wet weather, Megan wore a sleeveless dress with a plunging neckline and a skirt so short Cole wondered if maybe technically it should be called a belt. He couldn’t make out the exact color in the dim light. All he could tell for sure was that it was dark and looked as though it had been shrink-wrapped to her body.
He wondered where the hell she was going at ten-thirty at night, dressed like a slut.
A date? With Captain America?
Jealousy churned in his gut as she pulled her car away from the curb. He waited a few seconds, then followed. If she was going to meet someone, so be it. Cole would just have to restrain himself from putting his fist through the guy’s face.
And no matter what happened, he had a sinking feeling that his fishing trip was going to be postponed.
The sound hit Megan like a wall as she stepped inside Club One. Even on a weeknight it was packed with people. She tugged at her skirt and gave her neckline a quick check to make sure her boobs hadn’t popped out. She’d put the dress on and taken it off half a dozen times before she’d mustered the courage to wear it out of the house, worried it was too much. Or, to put a finer point on it, way too little.
But as she looked around, she realized she didn’t need to worry. Most of the women here wore clothes that were equally, if not more, revealing. Megan tottered on her heels as a woman brushed past her wearing a sheer blue top and no bra, having no qualms about showing her small, dark nipples to the world.
Megan, in her fuck-me shoes and barely there dress, blended in perfectly. She gave ay too lle sigh of relief. She didn’t want to attract any more attention than necessary as she did her little recon mission. She did a quick scan of the crowd and looked over by the main bar.
No Talia, at least not that Megan could see. Megan knew the other woman wouldn’t be happy to see her, especially if she realized Megan wasn’t just there to throw back a few drinks and hit the dance floor.
Megan worked her way across the main floor, surveying the crowd, her heart sinking a little as she took in the scale of her self-imposed mission.
It had seemed so clear-cut back at her place, as she’d been tarting herself up like a little girl playing dress-up. After the Web site yielded nothing, she decided she needed to do some on-site research. Go to Club One. Blend in with the crowd. See if anyone recognizes Bianca and can help you track down her roommate.
Right. Now she looked out at the sea of hundreds, trying to figure out where the hell to start.
There was a trio of guys sitting at a table near the bar, leaning back in their chairs, eyes raking every woman who walked by. They would notice a beautiful girl like Bianca. Might as well start with them.
They spotted her a few steps from their table, all three raising their eyebrows in interest as they scanned her from head to toe and back again. They were decent-looking, with their carefully tousled hair, tight button-down shirts, and even features. Still, the way they eyed her and leaned in to whisper to each other made her skin crawl. Megan pasted a smile on her face and forced herself not to cross her arms in front of her chest.
She was so glad this wasn’t her regular scene. And she wondered, not for the first time, what had drawn Sean here in the first place.
Megan felt a stab of grief explode in her chest, and she faltered on her four-inch spike heel. She willed herself not to fall, to keep it together, and forced the thought of Sean out of her head. Lately, if she wanted to function, she couldn’t even think about him, couldn’t let him come to the forefront of her consciousness without completely falling apart.
She threw her shoulders back and sauntered to the table under the trio’s appreciative gazes. She could succumb to mingled despair and anxiety later. Right now she was on a mission.
“Hey, guys,” she said, leaning in and pitching her voice to be heard over the loud thump of music and the din of the crowd.
Three pairs of eyes glued themselves to her cleavage. Megan grimaced and resisted the urge to look down and check just how much of a show she was giving. Hell, the club was dark, and if they produced useful information, so what if they caught a glimpse of nipple?
“Sit down and have a drink.” The hipster in a striped shirt hooked the back of a chair and dragged it over, while his friend motioned to a cocktail waitress. The third slid his gaze slowly from her chest to her face with a grin she supposed was meant to be flirtatious but made Megan feel like she’d been painted with a coat of slime.
She refused the drink but gratefully tste seat. She’d been on her feet for a measly five minutes and already her feet were killing her.
“I’m looking for information on a friend.” She pulled the picture of Bianca up on her iPhone and passed it across the table.
All three guys squinted at the picture. “Hey, I think I do know her. Why do I recognize her?”
Probably because Bianca’s picture was all over the news, after the police had officially released the information about the Slasher’s latest victim. Their leering smiles dropped when she shared that bit of info. “What I really need is information on her roommate—Stephanie, I think her name is? Have any of you guys ever seen Bianca here at the club? Do you know who she hangs out with?”
They all shook their heads. “I’ve never seen her here,” said Striped Shirt, “and I don’t know any girls named Stephanie.”
Like you really thought it would be that easy? Megan sighed and winced as she rose to her feet. She had a bad feeling it was going to be a long, unproductive night in very uncomfortable shoes.
The guy protested. “C’mon, sweet cheeks, one drink. You’ve got all night to look for this Stephanie chick.”
Megan flashed a smile that was more a baring of teeth and rapped on the table. “Thanks, guys, but I really need to find her. Besides, I make it a policy not to accept drinks from guys who call me sweet cheeks.” She turned her back and sauntered back into the crowd.
A hand on her arm stopped her short, and she jumped as a masculine voice yelled in her ear. “Megan, what are you doing here?”
She turned, shocked to find Nate behind her. But it was easy to see how she’d missed him in this crowd. While he’d stood out at the boho Café Norte, here he was just another button-down shirt in a sea of financiers and wannabe software moguls.
She felt herself flush as his gaze took in her skimpy dress and lethal heels. His mouth pulled tight like he was irritated.
She moved closer but still had to yell to be heard. “I could ask you the same thing. I didn’t realize you hung out here.”
He shook his head. “I don’t. I’m here with clients.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb to a table in the far corner. She could make out the shadowy figures of two men in dark suits. He gave them a quick wave and pulled Megan to a slightly quieter area of the first floor. “When they found out I set up all the networking and communications for the club, they asked me if I could get them in. It’s just business,” he said, as though trying to reassure her. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the thought of him picking up a honey from the club didn’t bother her in the least. His blue eyes narrowed on her cleavage. “What about you? Are you meeting someone here?”
She didn’t miss the underlying jealousy. She was going to have to set him straight soon. “Not exactly. I’m trying to find
out information about someone.” She pulled Bianca’s picture out of her bag and showed it to Nate.
“Is that the woman they found in the trailer?”
Megan nodded. “Her name’s Bianca Delagrossa. She used to come here. And I’m trying to find out if there’s anything that links her to my brother’s case.”
“I know the manager,” Nate said, reaching for her arm. “I can get you in to talk to her—”
Megan held up a hand and backpedaled as fast as her heels would allow. “No thanks. She and I aren’t on good terms. She testified against Sean.”
Nate closed his eyes briefly. “Oh, Jesus, I’m an ass. It never registered—”
“No reason it should have. Her name wasn’t in the press much. But do me a favor. If you see her tonight, don’t tell her I’m here. So, do you recognize Bianca?”
Nate shook his head. “I’ve never seen her. To be honest, I’m usually here in the daytime, before this whole scene unfolds.” He gestured at the dance floor full of gyrating bodies.
“You better get back to your clients, then.”
“I guess,” he said. “You really think you’ll find anything?”
She couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. When she’d come up with the plan, it had seemed so simple. But now the sheer mass of people and thundering noise was overwhelming.
“I have to try.”
“You’ll let me know if I can help.”
She nodded and tilted her face up to accept a quick kiss on the cheek before he melted back into the crowd.