by Elisabeth Naughton, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Alexandra Ivy, Laura Wright, Joan Swan
Yeah, right. With his couch, trying to catch a nap. He stepped up next to Tony. “What have we got?”
Tony looked toward the body lying facedown on the carpet behind the shiny wood desk. The victim was barefoot, dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. Blood had seeped into the carpet beneath his head. A small hole in his skull was evident through his blood-smattered silvery hair. The stench of death filled the room.
A camera flash popped, and Shane blinked twice. Several crime-scene techs milled through the room collecting evidence.
“Maid found him when she was cleaning this afternoon,” Tony said. “ME estimates time of death to be between twelve and eighteen hours ago.”
Shane knelt by the body, tipped his head to get a better view. The man’s hand was clenched in a fist at his side.
He turned, taking a careful sweep of the room. A leather couch sat against one wall, a marble-topped fireplace graced another. There was an oriental area rug on the floor and an oval glass coffee table in front of the couch. Nothing appeared disturbed.
A frown tugged at Shane’s mouth. Alan Landau had been their number-one person of interest in Laura Hamilton’s murder. Now, apparently, it looked like that theory had been blown to hell.
“Got Ruiz working on the guest list from last night’s brouhaha,” Tony said. “He’s calling them in one by one. So far nothing, but someone had to have seen something.”
Shane was in the process of studying the hole in the sheetrock left by what he guessed was a .22 when his blood ran cold. Landau’s party. Lisa had been here. He hadn’t made the connection until just now.
“We’ve also got a broken window in a library downstairs,” Tony went on. “But it looks like it was forced from the inside out, not the other way around.”
“We’re ready over here, boys.”
Perspiration pricked Shane’s skin, and they both looked over to where the medical examiner was preparing to turn the body. Shane stepped forward.
Two officers assisted as they rolled the victim onto his back. A bright red circle stained the plush cream-colored carpet when they moved him. Landau’s eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling, and a small hole pierced his forehead. Another officer snapped photos as the ME went to work.
“He’s got something in his hand,” one of the crime-scene techs said.
Shane waited until it had been carefully photographed, then knelt down and pried the paper from Landau’s cold, dead fingers. He unrolled the scrap and stared at it.
His eyes grew wide. Behind him, Tony swore.
***
He’d left her sleeping. And he hadn’t wanted to.
Crawling out of that big cushy bed when all he’d wanted to do was wrap himself around Lisa for a few more hours and lose himself in her softness had been one of the hardest things Rafe had ever done. Much harder than walking out of that hotel room in Italy.
Now, three hours later, standing at the wall of windows in Pete’s office, staring out at the bay as he waited for his friend, he couldn’t get thoughts of Lisa out of his mind.
I don’t believe in love.
That one statement had kept him up most the night after she’d finally drifted to sleep in his arms. That and the knowledge she’d used sex to distract him when the conversation in the kitchen had shifted her direction.
Her adamant declaration had been so matter-of-fact, he couldn’t help wondering what had happened to put that cold look in her eye. The same look that had disturbed him long after their conversation had died.
It had to be related to Stone. Her drive to find the Furies was emotional, even though she’d never admit to it. A niggling thought in the back of his head said it was also somehow tied to that small faded scar he’d found low on her belly when he’d been savoring every inch of her last night. The one that looked suspiciously like an old surgical scar.
The door behind him clicked open, and he turned.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Pete stepped in and shut the door at his back. He was dressed in tan slacks, a white dress shirt and a sapphire tie that made his gray eyes look almost blue. He lifted a folder in his hand. “Running some things down for you.”
Rafe moved from the window and dipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Thanks.”
“You look a little better, but not much.” A grin quirked one side of Pete’s mouth. “Barracuda keep you up last night?”
Pete didn’t know the half of it. “Yeah. Something like that. You get hold of Billy?”
“Yep. Sent him to Kansas City with Betty for a few days. Antique-gem show there she’s checking out. Told him he was running security for her.”
Rafe rolled his eyes. Betty, one of Pete’s employees, was one-hundred-seventy-five pounds of mean-ass woman you didn’t mess with. She could hold her own. And most likely, Billy’s too. “You get anything out of him before he left?”
“Not a lot.” Pete dropped the folder on the desk and sank into his leather chair. “He’s a bright one, our William. Never got names, was paid in cash. All he can tell me is the woman who hired him had an accent, although what type of accent, he can’t remember. The guy who threatened him after the fact was young, white, no accent. Good ol’ Billy didn’t ask questions, just met the man in Hialeah somewhere, paid the money back and left.”
“Jesus.” Rafe eased into a chair across from him. “He’s sure good with details, isn’t he?”
Pete chuckled. “Oh, yeah. One of a kind.” His eyes lit. “Speaking of details, where’s that sexy doctor?”
“At the house. She was sleeping when I left.”
Pete nodded, obviously curious about where she was sleeping, but not enough to ask. “You been to the hospital today?”
“Just came from there.”
His smile faded. “How’s Teresa?”
“Better. Probably be moved back to the care center this afternoon.”
“That’s good.” Pete twirled a pen between his fingers. “The private nurse you got for her has to cost a pretty penny.”
Yeah. And he didn’t want to think about that just now. He looked toward the folder next to Pete’s hand. “You get me what I needed?”
“Yes.” Pete leaned forward and placed a hand on the file. “You sure about this? You know all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll buy what you’ve got outright. No strings.”
It was the out he’d known Pete would offer. The same one his friend had tossed his way when he’d come back from Italy with Alecto. Take the money and run. No questions. No worries. A good deal. With both Furies, he’d have enough cash to do what he wanted for his mother, get himself set up for the next few years, figure out what the hell he wanted to do with himself in retirement. Pete would spread the word he was out of the game. He could walk away unscathed.
Except for Lisa. She wouldn’t quit. Not now. Not ever, from what he could see. He’d known his answer even before Pete had asked.
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Pete pushed the file across the desk and leaned back in his chair. “That’s what I figured. Had to offer it, just the same.” His expression hardened. “Okay, then. A few things you should know. Winters left Chicago yesterday on a flight headed for Miami .”
“Expected.”
“Yeah. What’s unexpected is the cops finding Landau dead in his mansion late last night.”
That got Rafe’s attention. “Shit.”
“Deep shit, my friend. No official statement yet, but my sources tell me it looks like a homicide. His death, coupled with his assistant’s murder only a week ago, is drawing a lot of attention. And the fact he bit it the night of that big soiree is more than coincidental.” He swiveled his chair. “You cover your tracks?”
Rafe ran a hand over his mouth. “Yeah. They won’t be able to link me to anything.” His brow narrowed in thought. “Winters was at Landau’s shindig. I assumed they were working together.”
Pete shook his head. “I’m not sure. I think we’ve got a couple
players in this. If Winters is the one who did Landau, then either they weren’t working together or he double-crossed the guy—and both options are feasible, considering the way Winters works. Regardless, Landau knew something he shouldn’t, and since we know Winters is after Tisiphone, it’s safe to say Landau was wrapped up in all this the way your barracuda suspected.”
“What about Kimbel?”
“I don’t have a clue where he is.”
“Find him. He’s a loose cannon.”
Pete nodded. “I’ll work on it. In the meantime, you have the house as long as you need it. Lauren won’t be back for at least another five weeks at the earliest.”
Five weeks in that house with Lisa? Hell, he’d never survive it.
He rubbed a hand over his hair. “Shouldn’t need it that long. We’ve still got a couple leads.”
“Okay. Anything you need, you just ask.”
What he needed was for someone to crack him upside the head and tell him this was a dumb idea. Instead, Rafe stood with the folder and headed for the door. “When I have news, I’ll be in touch.”
***
Maria Gotsi paced the plush sitting room of her South Beach hotel. Beyond her veranda, turquoise water and miles of white sand sparkled back at her, but she barely spared the luscious view a glance. Her brain hurt. No, it ached. Alan was dead.
Her Alan was dead.
It didn’t matter that their relationship had fizzled out a lifetime ago. He’d taken her under his wing all those years before, had taught her everything she knew and was today. And even if some hidden part of her hated the fact that she felt any angst for him at all, after the way he’d broken her heart, she respected him. Always had.
She owed him.
Before she could change her mind, she grappled for the cell in her Ferragamo bag, dialed and waited. The phone rang four times before she swore, disconnected and dialed again. When the familiar voice finally answered, she drew in a breath.
“We wondered when we’d hear from you, Dr. Gotsi.”
Calm and collected. That’s how she needed to play this. “Things are getting out of hand. Alan was not a threat.”
“Alan,” the voice said, hardening, “was competition. Competition is always a threat. Especially in this case.” When she didn’t answer, laughter echoed through the line. “Did you think he was going to let you broker this deal? Let me fill you in on a little information, Dr. Gotsi. He was going around you, playing both sides.”
No. The blood drained from her cheeks. Alan wouldn’t have done that. Not her Alan.
“I’ve covered my tracks well, but I will not let even a threat of this tarnish the Institute.” She’d worked too damn hard for it. “This needs to end.”
“When I have the Furies, we’ll call it finished.”
Maria ran a frustrated hand over her brow. “There’s no guarantee they’ll ever find Tisiphone. She could be buried under miles of rock at this point.”
“Oh, they’ll find her. I have complete faith in Dr. Maxwell.”
She felt a stab of guilt, envy and admiration all rolled into one for a woman she remembered meeting years ago at a party she’d attended with Alan. The poor grad student had been so over-the-top for Stone, she hadn’t seen what was right in front of her face. No wonder she was so driven to find that damn relief.
Maria lifted her head and looked out at a view she barely saw. Lisa Maxwell wasn’t her concern. At this point, the only thing that mattered was making sure her own ass stayed nice and safe. She still had a bargaining chip. “That’ll only get you one.”
“I’m confident we’ll get the others. If not, we have you as backup, don’t we?”
“Kauffman won’t sell. I’ve tried.” Not until he had all three. And even then, there was still no guarantee he’d sell to her. She wasn’t naïve and stupid, as Lisa Maxwell had been. She knew he was using her. In the same way she was using him.
A means to an end. Everyone was after something.
“So convince him. You’re good at that.”
Catching the disgusted tone in the words, Maria’s blood ran hot. She’d picked some powerful men to tangle with over the years, but she hadn’t fucked her way to the top. She’d made herself with hard work, brains and a body she knew how to work to get what she wanted. No one was going to insinuate otherwise.
“That’s not part of my deal.”
“Fine. Find another avenue. Do what they do and steal them, for all I care. Just make sure Kauffman sells to you or me. Otherwise I can’t guarantee what will happen to the rest of the competition.”
***
When Rafe slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the massive front door of Lauren’s house, the sight that greeted him brought a wicked curve to his lips.
Lisa was on her hands and knees, leaning over a mess of papers spread out on the living-room carpet in front of her. She’d pushed the coffee table out of the way, had a highlighter clenched between her teeth and a pencil tucked behind one ear. And she was wearing the skimpiest denim shorts he’d ever seen, giving him a nice clear view of her fabulous ass.
His blood pulsed. This was much better than being at the hospital. So much better than stressing over everything he and Pete had discussed at the gallery. He dropped the keys and file folder on the hall table and eased down the two steps into the sunken living room.
She must have heard him, because she eased up and rested that gorgeous behind on her bare heels. Oh, baby, he wondered if she knew she shot a come-and-get-me look over her shoulder when she flashed a smile his direction. She pulled the marker from her mouth. “Hey. I was just thinking about you.”
And he was thinking about her. About getting her naked and on all fours again. Right now. On top of all those papers.
He slid to the floor behind her, one leg on each side of her body, happy for the distraction from reality she created. He needed that right now, just to touch her and know she was real.
He pulled her back against his chest until she shifted her legs out from under her. “Sullivan,” she warned. “That’s not what I had in mind. I’m working here.”
“So am I,” he mumbled as he nipped at her ear and slid his arms around her small waist.
His hand ran over her flat abdomen, up to cup her breast through the peach cotton tank top she wore. A soft sigh slipped from her lips, and when she tipped her head to the side, he saw her eyes were already closed, any fumbling protest long gone.
And it warmed him, all the way down to his toes.
“I see there isn’t any of that awkward morning-after stuff going on with you,” she said.
“Shh,” he mouthed against the soft skin of her neck as he sampled and kissed. “I’m working here.”
Her nipple pebbled through the thin shirt, and she relaxed back against him, running her hands over his thighs. Tingles raced down his spine at the simple contact. She wet her bottom lip, a purely unconscious motion, and the flick of her tongue made him remember those sexy lips taking him deep into her mouth last night. The erotic image had his erection pulsing to life at her back. He dropped his hand to her waist, slid it up under the cotton top, desperate to feel her skin, and palmed her soft breast as his lips moved over her throat.
His other hand grazed her shorts, across her hip, to the bare skin of her leg, over to her inner thigh. She drew in a breath when he fingered the hem, slid his hand under the rough fabric and brushed her silken panties.
“Mm.” Her soft moan was heavy with desire. “You’re a major distraction. And you’ve got an insatiable appetite.”
For you
He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and felt it harden in his hand. “And you have got the sweetest body. There are so many things I want to do to you.”
A sultry oh curved her lips, encouraging him, enticing him. Her dark lashes made crescent shapes across the smooth skin of her cheekbones. When his fingers passed over her silk-covered mound, she drew in a breath and relaxed further against him.
H
e loved the way she turned pliant in his arms. The way she let down all her barriers and showed him exactly what she wanted when they were close like this. “You melt like butter, Querida.”
A smile pulled at her mouth. “Proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
He nipped her ear and moved his hand a fraction of an inch. “Yes, I am.”
She shifted, positioning his fingers exactly where she wanted them. “And you’re a tease, Slick.”
He chuckled against the curve of her neck, slid his hand to her neglected breast and slipped his fingers under her panties, into her satiny folds, to find her wet and warm and waiting. “Want me to tease you?”
She moaned, tipped her head and hooked her arm around his neck so she could kiss him in a clear yes-right-now move. The slight shift gave him better access, and he pushed one finger deep into her core just as her tongue passed over his lips and delved into his mouth.
He groaned at the hot, wet feel of her mouth, her steamy center that tightened around his finger and made him think of nothing but burying himself inside her all over again. Tongue tangling with hers, he eased out of her heat and felt her muscles clench, urging him back. He smiled against her mouth, pushed in two fingers and circled her sleek knot with his thumb until she quivered.
“Oh, God,” she mumbled against him. Her hips pressed into his hand as his fingers slowly stroked in and out, in and out, setting a gentle but effective rhythm. She tightened around him, against him, and moaned her approval into his mouth.
Need pulsed through him, sending blood screaming to his groin, but he held back, wanting to feel her come apart in his arms, to watch as she gave herself over to his complete control. To him.
I don’t believe in love
Hell, he was going to have to prove her wrong. That quicksand was up to his forehead and closing over him fast. He didn’t doubt he’d get sucker punched when this was all over, but right now he didn’t care. He just wanted her. All of her.