by Karen Rose
Hell of a sheriff, he thought. ‘Did she tell?’
‘No. I didn’t know her parents would send her away the first time. Three years she was gone. I couldn’t find the necklace. I looked a thousand times.’
‘Well you didn’t look hard enough,’ Evan snapped. ‘She’s had the bracelet and the necklace all along. She sold my necklace, knowing full well it belonged to me. Her father ran me and my parents out of town. Bankrupted us. My father killed himself.’
‘Not our fault,’ Sonny said, still sobbing and writhing in pain.
‘I know. You didn’t do anything.’ He brought the bat down on Sonny’s skull, heard his yelp, saw Ryan flinch as warm blood sprayed his pale cheeks. ‘So I will.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tuesday, May 4, 9.20 P.M.
‘They changed their mind,’ Lucy said as she walked through the morgue’s parking garage with Stevie, Fitzpatrick and Detective Skinner. ‘The victim’s parents looked sick.’
‘Me too,’ Skinner muttered.
‘It was a hard ID to do,’ Lucy said kindly. ‘We have the cell phone numbers for the parents so you can call them tomorrow and talk to them about their daughter.’
‘I’ll take over your shift,’ Fitzpatrick said to Skinner when they’d reached their cars.
‘If you’re sure. My wife would appreciate it.’ Skinner looked at Lucy. ‘We have a new baby and I know she needs a break.’
‘Go,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m fine here.’
Stevie looked exhausted. ‘I’m going home to eat dinner and catch up on paperwork while Records does their thing.’ With a wave she was gone, leaving Lucy and Fitzpatrick alone.
His expression was suddenly so hungry that her cheeks heated. But his words were all business. ‘I got your purse and phone back from Drew. You’re set up as bait.’
‘Good to know.’ He took the duffle from her shoulder and put it in the back seat. Then kissed her. It was sweet, yet restrained, hinting of what was to come. ‘Feels like you haven’t done that in forever,’ she said when he lifted his head. ‘But it’s only been a day.’
‘One hell of a day,’ he said. ‘Let me take you home.’
For the first time, that phrase sounded lovely.
‘What is Records checking?’ she asked when they were on the road.
‘Same thing I was checking before. Still looking for the Bryans. It’ll take awhile to track Ileanna’s mother, especially if she remarried. Some of those records are kept at town level, especially from twenty years ago.’ He glanced at her. ‘Didn’t you say you gave music lessons to the kids at your old boarding school? St Anne’s?’
Lucy smacked her forehead lightly. ‘On Wednesdays. I should cancel this week.’
‘No, I don’t want you to cancel. I want you to keep your routine.’
She lifted her brows. ‘My routine is to go home alone.’
His smile was guarded, putting her on alert. ‘That routine can change,’ he said.
‘Tomorrow’s Wednesday. You think that’s where he’ll leave Ryan’s body, don’t you?’
‘Yes, so the school’s going to have a bug infestation tomorrow. Students get a vacation day and our officers will patrol, dressed as exterminators. It’ll be last minute, so hopefully it’ll catch him off guard.’
She rubbed her forehead. ‘All right. The kids will be ecstatic for a day off.’
He hesitated. ‘I don’t want you to mention this to anyone. Not even your friends.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Just who are you accusing, JD?’
‘Everyone,’ he said. ‘Until we put this guy away, everyone.’
‘No. I won’t suspect them. Not my friends.’
‘Fine, but don’t tell them. Not yet. Can you promise me?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘You’re asking a lot. They could be in danger.’
He sighed. ‘Look at it this way. Somebody has been tracking you, watching you. It could be someone you know or someone your friends know. They make a mistake and trust the wrong person, or let a detail slip . . . they could get hurt. He killed the PI. She must’ve gotten in his way. There was no sign of forced entry in her apartment. He had a key. Just like with your car.’
Her stomach twisted. ‘And Gwyn’s apartment. Okay, okay. I get it. I promise.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, I meant to tell you. Alan quit. You know, one of the techs?’
His jaw hardened. ‘You mean that little prick that knew about the club and thought he was such hot shit? The one that had access to your purse?’
She blinked. ‘Yeah, him. So what do you really think about him?’
‘I think we need to check out his alibi for every second of the last forty-eight hours.’
‘He was on duty for a lot of it.’
‘Yeah, but he could have left for a little while.’
‘True. What are you doing?’
He was dialing his cell. ‘Getting his address. I need to pay the little prick a visit.’
‘He was with Ruby when Janet’s body was left last night,’ she said. ‘I checked. But you can check yourself if you want to.’
He hung up, annoyed. ‘I wish he didn’t have an alibi, just because I didn’t like him.’
He was jealous, which was a little nice, especially since he’d backed off. ‘Can we not talk about any of this for a while? Nothing about work or crazy killers or my family or yours?’
He smiled. ‘What’s left?’
‘Music.’
‘The last time we talked about music we ended up in an alley,’ he said, his voice silky and suggestive. He lifted her hand to his lips.
A shiver ran straight through her body, remembering. ‘We never settled it, did we?’
He turned to give her another hungry look. ‘Actually, you conceded my point. But I’m a fair man. I’d be willing to go for best two out of three.’
She laughed breathlessly, the mood suddenly urgent. ‘Drive faster.’
Tuesday, May 4, 9.30 P.M.
Clay dropped into a chair in his living room and closed his eyes.
He heard Alyssa sit in the chair next to him. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, very quietly.
‘No.’ He swallowed hard. ‘No, I’m not okay. I’m not sure I ever will be.’
‘That was hard,’ she whispered, ‘hearing her cry like that and having no words to say.’
In the car, Nicki’s mother had wept. Cursed. Wailed her anguish. ‘You held her hand, Alyssa,’ Clay said heavily. ‘That’s all you could have done.’
‘I wish I could do something. I feel so helpless.’
‘You can. I need you to look something up for me,’ he said, his eyes still closed. Hatred for Evan Reardon coldly burned and he was holding onto his control by a thread. ‘Dr Lucy Trask. I want to know why she had a bodyguard at the morgue.’
‘You mean the detective she said was in training?’
‘Yes. His hand never strayed more than a few inches from his gun.’
He waited while Alyssa opened her laptop and searched. Finally she muttered a curse. ‘I found it. She’s a part owner of Sheidalin. That’s the club where the valet was killed and the woman was found dead in her car.’
The bodyguard made sense. Someone was gunning for the doctor. ‘Cross-reference Anderson Ferry,’ he ordered softly.
‘I get a hit on a Ronald Trask, the retired sheriff. But nothing on Lucy.’
‘Cross Ileanna Bryan.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Cross Evan Reardon.’
‘Nothing again.’
‘Mazzetti’s expecting us to dig. Nicki found something that got her killed. So let’s keep looking.’ But all he could see was Nicki’s brutalized body. Grieve later. Find Reardon. And when he did? Clay’s fury bubbled up and over. Evan Reardon belongs to me.
Tuesday, May 4, 9.50 P.M.
There was, JD thought ruefully, a difference between talking about sex and actually doing it. Lucy had grown quiet after telling him to drive faster and by
the time they’d reached her apartment she was palpably nervous.
He wanted to grind his teeth in frustration, but did not. Last night had been an explosion. Tonight . . . well, if she needed time and space, he’d give it to her. She had a sofa. I can sleep there. Even if it killed him. Which it just might.
He parked in front of her apartment and glanced up at the balcony where Mrs Pugh had greeted them earlier in the day. ‘Have you heard from her?’
Lucy looked up, startled. Then she relaxed. A little. ‘Barb? Yes. She left a voicemail while we were in Anderson Ferry to say he’d had another minor episode but that he’d quieted down. She’s going to have to move him soon. She knows it.’
‘She said you’d made the arrangements. Including financial. Very generous.’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘He saved me once. Nobody wanted me. My parents didn’t. But he and Barb did. It’s only money. Mr Pugh and Barb gave me much more.’
JD’s eyes stung. ‘You’re a good person, Lucy. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.’
He got out of the car and opened her door, unsurprised when she wouldn’t meet his eyes. But he could see that what he’d said had touched her. Hopefully pleased her. Hopefully she’d let him please her a great deal more. He got her duffle and two small suitcases from the back seat – his and hers – and she frowned slightly.
‘When did you pack that?’ she asked, pointing to his bag.
‘When I handed you off to Skinner at the morgue. I swung home and grabbed a shower and my bag.’ He hesitated. ‘Since you’d asked me to stay.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Yes. I did.’
He tried not to sigh, but a little one escaped. ‘Lucy, it’s okay. We’ll do whatever you want. I’ll sleep on the sofa. Or if you want me to get Skinner back here, I will.’
She looked up at him, startled again. ‘Oh, no. That’s not what I want. I’m just . . . scared.’
‘Of me?’
She glanced away. ‘This is embarrassing and I’m sorry. I want you to stay. I really do. It’s just . . . Well, it was a lot easier last night. This me isn’t used to being . . . you know.’
And suddenly he did. ‘Come on,’ he said softly. ‘It’ll be fine. You’ll see.’ He let them into her apartment and put the bags down.
‘I need to call Gwyn,’ she said quickly. ‘She’ll be worried.’
He waited as she did, watched as she hung up, then lifted her chin and took her mouth in what he’d intended to be an uncomplicated kiss. But she surprised him, rising on her toes and sliding her hands into his hair. Meeting him more than halfway.
His control slipped a notch and he kissed her until they were both breathless. He abruptly ended it, darkly satisfied at the yearning he saw in her eyes when she opened them. He slipped her jacket off and laid it on the table.
She lifted her hands to the back of her dress, but he stopped her before she could slide the zipper down. ‘No,’ he said, pulling her hands back to her sides. ‘Not yet.’
Confusion collided with the heat in her eyes. ‘But—’
‘Trust me,’ he murmured. ‘It’ll be fine.’ Better than fine. She deserved that.
Her eyes widened when he opened her duffle and put her violin case on the table.
‘What are you doing?’
He removed the violin and bow and handed them to her. ‘Play for me.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s late. I’ll wake everyone up.’
‘Don’t you play for Mr Pugh this late sometimes?’
‘Yes, but . . . That’s for him, to calm him. The neighbors put up with that.’
‘They love your music, Lucy. They came out from their apartments to hear you play today. Think of it as giving them a lullaby. But play for me.’ He put the instrument in her hands. ‘I want you to play for only me.’
‘You’re crazy,’ she said, but tucked the violin under her chin. ‘What should I play?’
‘You choose. I’ll like anything you pick. I promise.’
She faltered a moment and he thought she’d refuse. But then she began to play, and as before he was . . . enchanted. It was quiet and pure. And then he recognized the piece. It was what she’d played at the club the night before, but slower, measured. Not frantic. Not at all. It had been blatantly sexual last night.
Now it beckoned. As did she. She watched him as she played, her eyes widening when he took off his jacket and laid it over hers, then narrowing when he pulled his tie free and unsnapped his holster. When he unbuttoned his shirt, she sucked in a breath, bit at her lip.
But she didn’t stop playing. When he’d shrugged out of his shirt he was again darkly satisfied, this time with the undisguised glitter of greed in her eyes. She’d looked at him like this the day before, when he’d come into CSU all sweaty. Like she wanted to devour him whole.
It was all he could do to keep from grabbing her and taking her up against a wall again. But he didn’t, instead walking behind her and kissing the side of her neck. Her bow skittered, sending the chord sour. For a moment there was quiet, the only sound her rapid breathing and the beat of his own heart, heavy in his ears.
‘Don’t stop,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Play for me. Please.’
Shakily she resumed, going rigid when he slid her zipper down her back, revealing beautiful skin. ‘I didn’t get to see you like this last night,’ he said, kissing his way from one shoulder to the other, smiling fiercely when she shivered again, violently. ‘You’re beautiful.’
He unsnapped her bra and trailed his fingertips down her spine. He slipped his hands around her to cup her warm, round breasts in his palms and her violin went silent, the hand holding the bow falling to her side.
‘What do you want?’ he whispered against her neck, lightly tugging on her nipples. She leaned into him, her head against his shoulder, her violin resting along her hip. She gave him free access and he made the most of it, caressing her breasts, running his hand down her front, teasing the band of her panties until she hummed in response. ‘What do you want?’ he asked again.
‘You. I want you.’ Lucy stepped away from him, her hand trembling as she returned her violin and bow to its case. Then she turned slowly, although every nerve in her body was urging her to throw herself onto him. He was perfectly formed, beautifully honed.
He was what she wanted. Right now. She licked her lips, wondering where to start.
The muscle in his jaw twitched as he waited. He’d set the stage. The next move is mine. She pushed her dress and bra from her shoulders and let them slip to the floor. His eyes dropped to her breasts and his mouth opened as if he’d say something, but he was totally silent.
He took a step forward and she took a step back, turning for the bedroom, keeping her pace slow. He followed her, closely enough that she felt the heat from his body. But she wasn’t cold.
She closed her door behind them, then gasped when he swung her into his arms. His mouth closed over her breast and she let the moan she’d been holding back roll free. He yanked her panties down then pushed her to the bed.
Lying flat on her back, she stared up at him, her body pulsing and so ready. His expression ferocious, he pushed his pants to the floor, leaving him standing in a pair of briefs that didn’t begin to contain him. ‘You’re sure this is what you want?’ he asked.
She stared at his erection, knowing how it felt inside her. Needing to feel it inside her again. She sat up and traced her finger down his length, watched him twitch, then forced herself to look away long enough to meet his eyes. ‘Yes. This is what I want. You’re what I want. Who I want. Now.’
It was all he’d needed to hear. He shoved the briefs down, searched his pocket for a condom, then smacked it in her palm. ‘Do it.’
Her hands suddenly steady, she did, thrilled with how he watched her every move. Then like a whip he moved, tossing her back to the bed and following her down, kissing her until she had no breath in her lungs. He thrust inside her and she cried out.
He kissed her neck hard. ‘Last night was
fast,’ he said in her ear. ‘Tonight might be, too. But I’ll make it up to you. I promise.’
‘Fast or slow, I don’t care,’ she gasped, thrusting against him. ‘Just do it.’
He laughed, plunging hard and fast until she thought her heart would burst out of her chest. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and her heels into her frothy pink bedspread and met him thrust for thrust. ‘Next time you play, think of this,’ he said, panting. ‘Think of me.’
She couldn’t think of playing, couldn’t think of anything. She was close. So close. Then he reached between them and touched her and she snapped. Her scream was muffled by his mouth as white lights danced behind her eyelids and pleasure exploded.
He buried his face against her neck, his body going taut as he followed. The minutes ticked by as he lay heavily on her, unmoving. She kissed his shoulder, welcoming his weight. This was good. He was good. He is good for me. Please let it be true. She’d been so alone for so long. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered and he forced himself to his elbows, studying her.
‘For what?’ he asked seriously.
‘For this. And for knowing what I needed. How did you know?’
‘Last night, watching you on that stage . . . you were so hot. Like fire. You were like fire when I had you. And fire is good, don’t get me wrong. But I wanted . . . warmth, not flame. I think I can sustain warmth. I figured the music was your gateway. But I wanted you to think of me, not all those people screaming your name.’ He smiled and his dimple winked. ‘Lucinda.’
I think I can sustain warmth. Was that exciting enough for you? JD’s wife had done a number on him. ‘You have no problem with warmth,’ she said. ‘In any way. And last night when I saw you at the club, there was nobody else. All I could see was you.’
He chuckled, the movement sending tingles through her body. ‘You were angry.’