“With all your talk about healthy eating, I expected you’d be getting a salad,” he said after swallowing a bite of the crab cake sandwich with spicy rémoulade that he had ordered for himself.
“At Huey’s? No way. How’s yours?”
“Killer.” The food had been delivered from a nearby seafood dive that mostly only the locals were familiar with. “How do you know about Huey’s?”
“Rarity Cove isn’t that far away. The place is a favorite of Carter’s. He’s always had a knack for finding these fabulous hole-in-the-wall places. He first took me there years ago and I’ve been a fan ever since.” Breaking open a hush puppy, she playfully rolled her eyes. “Now that he’s a big-deal movie star, they give him a private room overlooking the marina whenever he comes in.”
Noah dragged a fry through a puddle of ketchup. “Your brother’s doing a great thing with the fitness centers, by the way. He’s making a real difference in the lives of a lot of disabled vets.”
Mercer smiled softly. “I’m proud of what he’s doing. It’s kind of become a family project, too. His wife, Quinn, is a physical therapist and sits on the board. And I’ve been donating some of my time to help direct marketing for the fundraising campaigns.”
She poured a bit more of the chardonnay—a cheap brand, the only white wine that the seafood restaurant offered—from its bottle into her foam cup. Outside, rain slammed against the house as the storm intensified. Heavy drops thudded off the shuttered kitchen window, and an antiquated, plugged-in radio that Mercer had turned on played music from the living room, mingling with the sound of the deluge. Noah guessed that the radio belonged to one of the other men who had been here, probably Tom with his avoidance of anything modern. He watched as Mercer devoured another of the messy shrimp.
“Thanks for the wine. I wasn’t sure if they’d deliver it,” she said. The distraction the meal had provided had eased some of the tension from her face.
“How is it?”
“Pretty bad,” she admitted with a laugh. “But as long as it gives me a buzz, I’m not complaining. Are you sure you don’t want some?” She held the bottle out to him, but he shook his head.
“I’m on duty. Besides, I’m more of a beer man.”
Lightning flashed around the shutter’s edges as another clap of thunder boomed overhead, this time loud enough to rattle the window panes. Mercer startled with the explosion, then smiled and shook her head. “That was close. It’s really coming down outside.” Her honey-blond hair had fallen forward as she ate, and she pushed it back over her shoulder again, focused on her food. “That poor deliveryman.”
“You didn’t see him. He was just a kid. He was dripping wet and looked so miserable that I tipped him extra.” Prior to the deliveryman’s arrival, Noah had sent Mercer upstairs and temporarily removed his shield and gun holster. The less curiosity he drew, the better, although he had covertly tucked the weapon in the back waistband of his pants just to be on the safe side.
Tossing the last shrimp tail aside, Mercer reached for one of the moist towelettes that had come with the delivery and tore it from its package, using it to wipe her fingers. “Thank you for a wonderful meal and a great distraction.” She closed the lid of the foam box that the food had come in. “I obviously enjoyed it—maybe a little too much. I feel like I’m covered in barbecue sauce.”
“You wear it well.” He indicated her tresses that had again fallen forward over her shoulder. “You’ve got some in your hair.”
“Oh, God.” Her laugh was musical as she tried to peer at the ends of her long hair to find the offending sauce. “I guess you could say I really got into my food.”
Chuckling, Noah tore open another moist towelette package.
“Here.” Leaning forward and reaching across the table, he gathered a thick lock in his hand and wiped the strands clean with the damp paper. Her hair was heavy and as silky as he imagined, his fingers tingling faintly where he had touched it. He lowered his hand and sat back again.
“Thanks.” Her still somewhat bleary gaze held his, and Noah drank in her closeness. She took another sip from her cup and for a moment they sat without talking, listening to the rain and the music coming from a golden oldies station.
“All this seafood reminds me of the St. Clair’s oyster roasts. We have one every year for guests, usually in late summer. But this year I talked Mark into moving it to fall. Jonathan and I always made a point to be here to attend them.” At her words, sadness passed over her features. “I’ll be missing this year’s, most likely. It’s just around the corner.”
“I remember those. I worked a couple of them.” Noah recalled the live music and dancing, the delicious aroma of roasted oysters. “I was too young to bartend but I set up and broke down the tables and dance floor. I dug the pit for the trestle, too.” Not wanting to further pique her memories, he attempted to change topics but Mercer held up a hand and sat up straighter in her chair.
“Listen…”
Through the rainfall, Noah heard a familiar song—beach music—coming from the radio. Mercer stood as more thunder rumbled overhead. “You do shag, don’t you?” she asked with a mischievous grin, holding her hand out to him.
Noah indicated the half-empty wine bottle on the table. “That’s it. I’m cutting you off.”
“C’mon, Noah, please?” When he remained stubbornly seated, she looked at him pleadingly, her slender fingers still held out to him. “You asked what you could do to make things better for me, remember? Time to put your money where your mouth is, Detective. I need to move.”
He chuckled again and shook his head. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“You’re a Lowcountry native. I don’t believe for one second that you can’t do a decent Carolina Shag. Now get up and dance with me before the song is over.”
She looked so appealing with her wide blue eyes, her hair tumbling carelessly around her shoulders and her skin like peach-tinted cream. With a sigh of resignation, Noah stood. Laughing, her fingers laced with his, she tugged him from the kitchen to an open spot closer to the radio in front of the sofa. The music was louder here, melding with the shush of the steady downpour outside. To his surprise, the popular dance, a slower form of swing dancing, came back to him and he led her through the basic triple step, triple step, rock step of the dance in time to the music. Her smile was radiant as he executed an underarm turn, spinning her around.
“I’ve been accused of having two left feet,” he admitted as they fell into a rhythm, keeping the steps and turns simple. “Don’t expect me to pull off a Funky Applejack or anything else advanced.”
“You’re better than you give yourself credit for. Jonathan and I used to shag-dance all the time.”
They continued dancing until the song faded and was replaced by a commercial jingle for a local restaurant. Laughing, still standing close, Mercer’s cheeks were flushed. Noah’s fingers still clasped hers, and her expression grew more serious. What had felt like fun now shifted into something different, charging the air around them once again. Lightning flashed, a powerful clap of thunder exploding overhead at the same second. The house’s lights went out, plunging them into grainy darkness. Into silence save for the downpour outside. Unable to stop himself, Noah closed the scant few inches between them and lowered his mouth to Mercer’s. Her lips parted for his, sending the pit of his stomach into a wild swirl. As their kiss slowly deepened, she moaned her pleasure into his mouth, the sound of it heating his skin. Her palms slid up his chest, her arms encircling his neck as she pressed her body purposefully into his. Noah’s hands moved to her waist, masculine need spreading through him. He was vaguely aware of a tree branch scraping the house outside, his senses too overcome with the taste of her and the feel of her body molded to his. They clung together, kissing, touching, for how long he didn’t know.
When finally, his mouth left hers, they were both breathing hard with desire. He walked her backward several steps, until her back met the wall beside the open parlor door
. Pinning her there, his mouth seared a path down her slender throat, sucking at her skin as she arched her neck to give him greater access, undulating her hips against him and sending fire through him. He felt her hands thread into his hair as he lightly bit at her neck.
“Noah,” she moaned softly. “Oh, God…”
Lost in need, his hands slid up her sides, cupping her breasts and massaging them gently through her blouse, his thumbs brushing back and forth, teasing the hard points of her nipples. She pressed her open mouth eagerly to his in response, begging for his tongue to explore her again. At the same time, her hands left his hair and began to work at the buttons on her blouse. She trembled against him, making his blood pound.
The lights flickering back to life was like a douse of cold water on Noah’s senses. The short circuit in his brain corrected itself. Christ. Regretfully, his mouth left hers, his hands releasing her soft body. She stared up at him, confused, her pupils dilated and her lips appearing swollen from their kissing.
“We can’t…this isn’t…” His emotions whirled and skidded, his knees weak at what he had done.
“I don’t understand.” Her eyes were liquid and filled with need.
“Mercer…we can’t do this,” he managed, his voice hoarse. Taking a step back from her was one of the hardest things he had ever done. “I’m sorry. I’m way over the line here. That shouldn’t have happened.”
He saw her swallow. She was still panting slightly, her hair mussed. Several buttons on her blouse were undone, exposing her cleavage and the lace edges of a blue, satin bra.
“I’m attracted to you and…I let my feelings get the best of me,” he tried to explain, swimming in a haze of self-recrimination. “You’re my witness in a major investigation. I’m supposed to be watching over you, not taking advantage. I’d never want to do anything to—”
“What about what I want?” Longing in her expression, she touched his chest and he became aware of his own labored breathing. “You weren’t taking advantage, Noah. What happened took both of us.”
“That doesn’t matter. I know better.”
Her chin lifted faintly. “I know what I’m doing. I’m a grown woman.”
“Who’s under a great deal of stress right now. You’re not able to make the best decisions,” he pointed out gently. “There’s a man out there who wants you dead. You’ve been uprooted from your entire life.” His guilt flared, and he dragged a hand through his hair. “Not to mention, you just lost your husband.”
“I’ve been alone for a year,” she emphasized in a choked voice. “Twelve months. If you want, I can tell you how long right down to the days.” She fisted her hand over her heart, emotion in her voice. “Do you know how long it’s been since a man held me? Made love to me? My husband was ill for months before he…”
Her words died off, causing Noah’s throat to tighten. He touched her shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Mercer. God, believe me, I do. But I can’t let things go any further between us. If this were a different situation…”
Her soft-blue eyes had darkened with pain and possibly embarrassment.
“It took two of us,” she repeated softly, an ache in her voice. “I’m inviting you into my bed, Noah.” The vulnerability on her face made his chest squeeze. “No one has to know except us. I…I’m going upstairs. You can follow me up there or you can stick to your rules and keep your white hat intact.”
A branch again scraped the house’s side as more thunder rolled overhead. A heaviness inside him, Noah watched as she headed up the staircase, her posture rigid. As she disappeared on the landing, he scrubbed a hand over his face, cursing softly under his breath. Every part of him wanted to go after her. More than anything, he wanted to pin her down on that bed and give her exactly what she wanted. But if he acted on his desires, he would be doing something far worse than Bobby Durand’s shower-room talk. Noah would be taking advantage of her, whether she understood that or not. Her world was in shambles and she was looking for something, someone, to cling to.
But what scared him most was that if he gave in to his needs and followed her upstairs, he didn’t think that Mercer was someone he could just use and then walk away from.
Chapter Fourteen
Noah entered the bullpen where the precinct accommodated its detectives. After being relieved by Remy at the safe house early that morning, he had gone by his apartment to shower and catch a few hours of sleep. His outlook was bleak. Mercer hadn’t returned downstairs last night or that morning, either. His rejection of her—and he feared she saw it that way—had hurt her, he knew. He was angry with himself for letting his attraction to her overrule his better judgment. It wasn’t like him.
“Noah.”
He sighed inwardly as Bobby Durand called to him over the ringing phones and conversation of other detectives.
“So, how’d it go last night?” Durand followed as Noah made his way to his desk that was situated by the old building’s bank of windows. Tyson’s desk that was directly across from his was vacant, however.
“Fine.” Noah’s tone was distracted. He picked up a file from his inbox and shuffled through it.
“You’re just now getting here? It’s after eleven.”
“I went by my place to get some sleep. Aren’t you supposed to be at Shirley Draper’s nursing home?”
“Not until three. Tony and I are headed to Beaufort after lunch.” Durand lowered his voice. “I figured you’d know, so I’ll ask—the scuttlebutt is that one of The Brotherhood is willing to give up some real information on Draper in exchange for leniency on the explosives charges, so long as he remains anonymous. Is that true?”
Tyson had sent Noah a text an hour ago, letting him know that an arrestee had changed his mind and was willing to talk, although what exactly he knew remained to be discovered. Worried about confidentiality, he had agreed to speak only to the two lead investigators and the district attorney who could offer a deal.
“We’re interviewing him this afternoon,” Noah confirmed.
“Any idea what he knows?”
“No.” Noah watched as Durand studied the photographs of Draper and five other members of The Brotherhood that were pinned on a corkboard behind Tyson’s desk. The other men were believed to be close allies of Draper’s. They all had mugshots in the database due to previous arrests, and two had outstanding warrants. And, like Draper, they had all vanished into thin air. The corkboard also held grim photographs from all three crime scenes, including ones from Townsend’s home in Savannah that the local police there had shared.
“Well, I know the mystery squealer isn’t one of these guys. So, who is it?” Durand turned from the corkboard to face Noah again.
“I can’t say. I’m under DA’s orders.”
Durand took a sip from the coffee mug he held before changing topics. “Since you were up all night with nothing to do, I thought you might’ve made out a schedule for the safe house for the rest of the week.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”
Noah released a slow breath. He hadn’t wanted to get into this today. “Yeah, about that. You’re off the schedule, Bobby. Thanks for your help yesterday.”
The other detective appeared surprised. “I thought you were short-handed—”
“Turns out we’re not.” Leaning over his desk, Noah turned on the computer and peered at its screen, waiting for it to power up. He had some notes from an earlier conversation with the arrestee that he wanted to review prior to the meeting at the DA’s office.
“What about Tony? Is he off the schedule, too?”
Noah remained focused on the computer screen. “No, just you.”
“Did I do something wrong? Hey, this isn’t about what I said yesterday about Mercer Leighton?”
Noah looked at him. The answer must have been evident on his face, because Durand rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Noah. You know I’m just talking. Don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed that she
’s—”
“It was disrespectful.” Noah straightened and faced him.
Durand gave an incredulous laugh, his face reddening. “Are you freaking kidding me? Since when did you become such a Boy Scout?”
He turned on his heel and stalked off. Noah knew that he was being a hypocrite considering what had happened between Mercer and him last night. Berating himself again, he scraped his hair back, then sat behind his desk. Whether he was being protective or territorial where she was concerned, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a little of both.
“What’s up with you, Noah?” Tyson appeared at Noah’s desk a short time later. He wore his shield on a chain around his neck. “Bobby just told me that you threw him off the watch. Said you had a bug up your ass about something he said about Ms. Leighton.”
Noah looked up from the computer screen at him. “He’s not the right fit. We’ll find someone else to help out.”
“That may not be necessary. I came to get you. The Captain wants us in the debriefing room.”
Staring out through the windows at the iron-gray day, Noah’s entire body tensed as Captain Bell continued.
“I warned you this could be the case, detectives. Deveau was a federal judge and the higher-ups in D.C. have taken interest. They know about the attempt on Ms. Leighton’s life last week and they want to make sure that she lives to testify. They’re putting her into the Federal Witness Protection Program until Draper’s apprehended and goes to trial.”
“This is our case.” An angry heat flushed through Noah. He stood and paced the room, then threw out his hands. “WITSEC will move her to another part of the country. She’ll have to live under a false identity. She won’t want this—”
“What’s more important is that WITSEC and the U.S. Marshals Service is the best way to keep her alive.” Bell peered at Noah sternly. “You’re going to convince her of that.”
In Dark Water (Rarity Cove Book 3) Page 11