by LENA DIAZ,
His hands shook as he slid one hand around her back and adjusted himself with the other. “It’s not too late to say no. It will probably kill me to stop, but I will.”
“You see me, Colton. The real me.” She feathered her fingers down the side of his face. “You understand me like no one else ever has. This is what I want. You’re what I want.” She pressed a soft kiss against his lips and pulled back to look at him again. “Don’t. Stop.”
His entire body shook with need as he clasped her tightly to him and surged forward. Pleasure zinged through her unlike anything she’d ever felt. He was made for her. And she was made for him. Every thrust of his body, every maddeningly clever stroke of his fingers against her most sensitive spot as he made love to her had her arching against him and matching his rhythm with hers.
Every drawing she’d ever done, every painting she’d ever created in her search to show the true beauty of life seemed to culminate in this moment. Instead of painting him on canvas, capturing his likeness with pencil or pen, she drew him inside her, his every stroke like a master artist wringing out the beauty of this moment, creating the most incredible, eloquent masterpiece ever imagined.
And then he lifted her in his arms, turning with her, staggering down the short hallway to the sparse bedroom that was obviously the guest room on the right. Without breaking away from her, he gently laid her down, his strokes slower now, more delicious, his body shaking as he obviously made every effort to hold himself back, to make this last.
Her shirt was suddenly gone over her head, and his hot breath washed over her as he clasped one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked.
“Colton!” She arched off the bed, drawing her knees up as she came apart in his arms, soaring to planes she’d never known existed as the colors burst behind her eyelids.
He lavished her other breast with the same attention, his strokes coming harder and faster as he rode her through her climax. And then his hands were on her again, rebuilding the delicious tension inside her, impossibly bringing her higher than she’d been before.
As she catapulted into another wave of pleasure, her name burst from his lips and he joined her, clasping her tightly against him as he spent himself in her arms.
* * *
EVEN BEFORE COLTON opened his eyes, he knew he’d made a mistake. Well, not a mistake exactly. Making love to Silver had probably been the highlight of his existence and he wouldn’t want to undo it, even if he could. There were no words in his vocabulary equal to the task of describing how right it had felt being with her. After this, he couldn’t imagine ever being with another woman. Ever.
That was the problem.
What was he supposed to do now? Go down on bended knee and ask a woman he’d just met to marry him? She’d think he was crazy. Hell, he thought he was crazy. And it wasn’t as though he wanted to get married. The thought had never even crossed his mind. His career always came first. And while he adored women, he’d never loved one. Never planned on loving one. And since he didn’t believe in love at first sight, what, exactly, had happened to him?
All he knew for sure was that he needed distance—from this case, from Silver, from the disaster his life had just become. He needed to think and figure out what he was going to do. Giving up his career, months of being undercover where there was no room or time for a family, wasn’t an option. Which meant after this investigation was over, he’d go his way and Silver would go hers. That was the only way this could end. But when he tried to conjure a picture of his future without Silver Westbrook, all he could see was a big, black void.
Man, was he in trouble!
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Silver’s warm, soft hand patted his abdomen. “We have work to do, a case to figure out.”
That one, simple touch awakened his body again, making his pulse leap through his veins and hardening him almost instantly. He gritted his teeth and willed his body back under control.
“Colton? Are you okay?”
Nope. Not under control. Even her voice had lust crashing through him. What he needed was a stiff drink. Maybe that would take care of his...stiff problem. He groaned at his own pun and forced his eyes open.
The bed dipped and Silver braced her hands on the mattress on either side of him, her face a mirror of concern. “Did you hit your head on the headboard or something?”
Since his body had become invaded by some kind of emotional wreck of a man whom he didn’t recognize, he went with it, dragging her down for a kiss, all the while hoping he’d been wrong and that kissing her wasn’t nearly as incredible as he remembered.
Nope. It wasn’t like what he’d remembered. It was better.
He groaned and ended the soul-shattering kiss that had him hard and aching beneath the comforter. She’d ruined him. And he didn’t have a clue what he was going to do about it.
She blinked down at him. “Wow. I don’t even want to know how many women you’ve kissed to become that great at it. The jealousy would kill me. Now get up and get dressed. I’m all focused again now—thank you for that, by the way—and ready to solve this case.”
She hopped off him and sashayed into the living room, already dressed and acting as if their lovemaking hadn’t knocked her off her axis as it had him. What had she said? She was focused again, thank you? He frowned. Did she have sex with near strangers often, to focus her thoughts?
That dark thought had a little green monster poking him in the vicinity of his heart. And he didn’t like it one bit. A drink. Yeah. He definitely needed something to take the edge off. And he didn’t care that it wasn’t five o’clock yet. It was five o’clock somewhere.
He rolled onto his side and looked for his clothes before remembering they were on the living room floor. And he was lying here with a hard, aching erection. Going out there and waving that around was a recipe for disaster. If she even looked at him as though she might want another roll in the hay, he’d probably tackle her to the floor and do all the things he desperately wanted to do to her that he hadn’t done yet. No. He couldn’t go out there naked. In that way lay danger. He’d just have to wrap the comforter around himself and go get them.
He slid his legs out of bed and held the comforter over his lap, about to get up, when Silver came back in carrying his things.
“Oh, hey.” She smiled. “I just remembered you didn’t have your clothes with you.” She waved at the adjacent bathroom. “Want me to put them in there in case you want to wash up?”
He smiled tightly, or tried to. But he wasn’t in a smiling mood and rather doubted he’d succeeded by the way her gorgeous silver-gray eyes widened.
“Sure, thanks,” he said.
“O...kay.” She set his things on the counter. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She stepped back to him. “I accidentally pulled this out of your pocket earlier when I was, well, you know, looking for your wallet.” She held her hand out toward him, holding a folded sheet of paper.
The paper that Drew had given him at the station.
He’d completely forgotten about it.
“Colton?” She continued to hold the paper out. “Is something wrong? If this is private, no worries. I didn’t read it.”
“It’s yours.”
“What?”
He grabbed her empty hand and tugged her to the bed. “Sit. Please.”
She sat beside him and waited, the paper still in her hand. He set it aside and took both her hands in his, half-turning to face her, with one leg folded beneath him on the bed.
“Remember back at the station, when you left the room after finding out about Eddie?”
She stiffened, a shuttered look entering her eyes. “Yes. Of course I remember.”
“That piece of paper is an email the Miccosukee police sent to Drew. It’s a copy of a letter. The original was found in an envelope at the crime scene.” He picked it up and unfolded it, then held it out toward her. “The envelope was addressed to you. And this is the letter that was inside. I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to give it to yo
u. At first, I was worried how you’d take it. And later, it slipped my mind. I know that’s not an excuse. I really am sorry.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she quickly wiped them away. “You read it. I can’t.”
“Silver—”
“Please. Just read it out loud.” She closed her eyes, her hands fisting against the sheets.
Colton sighed and began to read.
“Dear Miss Westbrook. Can I call you Silver? I always wanted to, but it didn’t seem respectful enough. But since this is goodbye, maybe you’ll forgive me this one time.
“You were always a really good friend to me, and the only adult who really, truly seemed to care what happened to me, and whether I studied or ditched class. Because you wanted me to make something out of my life.
“I’m sorry to say that I let you down.
“Me and some of the guys got into some things that we shouldn’t have. That blue vase? It was stolen, and some of the other things I brought you. Stupid, I know. It started out as a onetime thing, a dare. But it grew from there. And other stuff happened, stuff I’m too ashamed to talk about in this letter. And once I was in, I couldn’t get out. That stupid attempted holdup? Yeah, I could tell you knew it was me. And I was so ashamed because you just wanted to help me, protect me, and I was there to take money, jewelry, anything I could get—I would have taken yours, too. Please know that I had good intentions. To help some friends. I can’t say anything else because I don’t want them to get into trouble.”
“He was talking about the drug ring, wasn’t he?” she asked.
“I think so,” he said. “That’s what Drew thinks, too.”
She nodded. “Please, go on.”
Colton searched for where he’d left off in the letter, then continued.
“Well, I’ve found a way out. I’m turning the thefts into something good and helping some people, some friends. But I can’t stick around, because what I’ve done will send me to jail once it’s out. And I could never survive a place like that. But at least I’ll have done some good by helping others out. You should be proud of me for that.”
She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, but tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Want me to stop?” he asked. “We can finish this later.”
“No. I want to hear all of it. Go on.”
“I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I’m starting a new life somewhere else. I don’t want to go to jail, so I had to do it this way. I promise I won’t get into trouble again.
“Goodbye, Silver.
“Your friend,
“Eddie.”
He folded the paper and handed it to her. She took it between both hands and shook her head. “I told you that he was a good kid. He made mistakes, and he wanted out. He tried to fix things. He was a good kid,” she repeated.
Colton wasn’t so sure he agreed, but it obviously meant a lot to her that he believe her. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close. “He was a good kid.” He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her arm, gently rocking her against him as she absorbed the contents of the letter.
Finally, she sniffed, wiped her face and pushed away from him. “When you first got here, you asked if I needed your help. I do. Very much. Help me find Eddie’s killer?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. I’ll wait in the living room.” She got up and hurried toward the door.
“Silver?”
She paused and turned, looking at him expectantly.
“I’m not going to stop until we find the creep who killed him. You have my word.”
Her jaw trembled and her eyes shone overbright with more unshed tears. She nodded her thanks and pulled the door shut.
Colton groaned and collapsed back onto the bed. He knew better than to promise something he couldn’t really control. He knew from experience that no matter how hard he might want to crack a case, sometimes the evidence just wasn’t there.
Chapter Eleven
Silver sat down on the carpet in the living room again. But this time she was fully dressed—bra and all—and there was a deep, burning thirst for justice inside her belly that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Yes, she’d wanted to catch Eddie’s killer before she’d read that letter, or rather before Colton had read it to her. But knowing that Eddie had finally gotten it, that he’d realized he needed to turn his life around, and then that he’d had that life snatched away so brutally, had focused all her emotions into a deep-seated need to do this last thing for her friend—to bring down whoever had taken his future away from him.
And now that she had Colton to help her do it, she finally believed that this case could be solved, that together they would find justice, and Eddie Rafferty could rest in peace—God rest his soul.
Colton came out of the room and sat down beside her. He picked up a couple of the drawings. “Catch me up to speed. What is all this?”
“Suspects,” she said, thumping the picture of Cato with her pencil. “Or potential suspects, I suppose. After you left earlier this morning, Freddie and her friends helped me brainstorm who could be the real bad guy. And these are the people we came up with. I added a few of my own, but mostly this is from the group, uh, meeting that we had.” She shrugged. “Drawing anything that’s bothering me helps clarify things in my head. Normally. No luck today, though. At least, not earlier. I’m hopeful that together we can figure it out.”
His jaw tightened, as if he wasn’t so sure. But he nodded his agreement. “I see you drew Buddy. Why not Freddie, too?”
“She’s harmless.”
“But Buddy isn’t? They’re a lot alike, about the same age, feisty, strong, stubborn. I wouldn’t peg either of them as being able to hurt a physically fit eighteen-year-old. But ordering someone else to do it? Yeah. I can totally see that.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure that I agree. I certainly can’t picture Freddie doing anything like that. She might be a Brillo Pad on the outside, but inside she’s a squishy sponge. Buddy’s a lot like her, a really nice guy at heart.”
He shook his head. “Yeah. I saw that nice heart when he charged you for an airboat ride that he pressured you to take. And when his staff charged crime victims four bucks for bottles of water at the south dock.”
“Okay, okay. So he takes making a profit a bit to the extreme.” At his incredulous look, she said, “A lot to the extreme. Agreed. But that doesn’t make him a killer. And if you were down-and-out, he’d be one of the first in line to step up and help.”
“If you say so. But if you believe that, why did you draw him?”
She picked up Buddy’s picture and pointed to the notes written on the bottom. “Organizer, leader, tends to be arrogant. Those characteristics made me include him. He does love money, and he’s driven to make as much as he can, even though he doesn’t ever spend much. It’s the thrill of it. He’s competitive. I can totally see him as a guy in charge, organizing, making things happen. But even if he was the guy at the top, I seriously doubt he’d do it if he knew anyone was stealing or there were drugs involved. Someone could be taking advantage of him, stroking his ego, using his resources and knowledge of the area to run the operation without him even realizing what’s really going on.”
He took the picture from her and read the rest of the notes that she’d written, dates and times when she’d seen him with Eddie and other young teenagers, or in conference with Cato and others. “He does run those airboat tours. Airboats would be a perfect way to get goods into Mystic Glades, up through the canals. But he’d need another way to distribute them from there, onto the streets, without making anyone suspicious.” He handed the picture back to her. “There may be something to your theory about someone using him without him knowing it. So who would use the airboats—when they’re not running tours? How many boats are there?”
“Three. But if someone takes them out after the tours, they’d be noisy. We’d hear that.”
“I remember seeing that captain on our boat—”
“D
anny.”
He nodded. “During the holdup, he used a pole to push the boat to shore. Looked fairly easy and didn’t make any noise. If he or the other boat captains are in on this, they could push the boats away, or even pull them out into a canal using a canoe or kayak before turning that noisy engine on.”
“I’d hate to think that Danny or the other boat pilots were involved. He seems so nice.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Not long. He’s one of the men Buddy hired just this summer. He doesn’t live around here.”
“We should look into his background, then. And keep him on our suspect list. When I spoke to Drew earlier, I listed Danny, along with everyone else whose name I could remember. He’s having the team run background checks on everyone. We’ll check back with him tomorrow and see if they’ve found anything useful.”
“Drew, your boss? You spoke to him?”
“When I left Callahan’s, I drove out to Alligator Alley and called him. The homicide team found some witnesses who saw a rather unique car near the crime scene at the right time—a nineteen-eighties sky blue Mercedes. It belches black smoke, so I figure it’s probably one of the early diesels. Seen anything like that around here?”
“Honestly, it’s so rare that I see cars around here. And I’m not much of a car person. I can hardly tell one model from the next.”
“What kind of car do I drive?” he asked.
“A black Mustang GT.”
He smiled. “Seems to me like you do pay attention to cars.”
She waved her hand. “No, that’s just because it’s your car. Of course I remember what kind you drive.”
His eyes widened and her face heated. Just because they’d made love didn’t mean that he felt about her the way she’d already accepted that she felt about him. She was getting way too comfortable around him, letting things slip that she’d rather not share. If she wasn’t careful, he’d realize how much she craved being around him. Which would be nothing short of humiliating if he didn’t share the same affliction.