by Jennie Jones
The same magnetic pull as the one they’d shared that day in the café filled the air around them. Then she raised herself up to reach his mouth.
He lowered his head and kissed her right back. Mouths open, tongues searching. He held her close, hoping any strength he had was being given to her. He gazed down into perfect green eyes, soft with love, shaken by desire. ‘I want you like I’ve never wanted anybody before,’ he told her. He kissed the shadows beneath her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair.
A whoosh of desire punched him in the chest. He kissed her hard, held her hard and wanted her desperately.
She pulled from him.
He raised his hands in the air, afraid he’d yank her into him again. Afraid he’d given her the wrong message. ‘Rachel?’
She didn’t take her eyes off his. Her beautiful, warm eyes. Slowly, she undid the buttons on her cardigan.
Luke inhaled, shock and desire overwhelming him. ‘Are you sure you want this?’ he asked.
‘I’ve never been more sure of anything.’ She flung the cardigan from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She was naked beneath.
‘Holy Jesus.’
‘We’ve got time?’ she asked, no shyness suffusing her. Nothing. Not even a blush.
Luke swallowed, his eyes on hers but her nakedness so tempting in his peripheral vision.
‘There might not be time later,’ she said.
There’d be time. He’d make sure of it. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea—’ He’d wanted to lead her gently into this scenario, but holy Jesus, look at her.
‘I’ve never asked for what I wanted, Luke. And I want this.’ She blushed then; maybe astonished at how forward she was being, or surprised that what she wanted was there in front of her, wanting her right back.
He took hold of her and walked her backwards until her bottom hit the dining table. He unbuttoned her shorts and pulled them down her hips, hell bent on getting to all her soft places.
‘We should be in the bedroom,’ he said, kissing her collarbone then the rise of her breasts, his hands on her hips.
‘If that’s what you want,’ she said, her breath coming in short gasps.
‘I just want you.’
‘So take me.’
‘Jesus, Rachel—’
‘Take me, Luke. I need you to want me as much as I want you.’
‘Copy that,’ he said, his voice rasping in his throat as he kissed her in places he’d always wanted to kiss.
He stepped between her thighs.
‘I won’t break,’ she told him.
‘No—but I might.’ Her smile filled him with warmth and hunger as he lifted her to sit on the table. Then he kissed her like it was the first time; the last time.
He reached for her shorts again but fumbled and maybe dragged too hard because he heard the cotton rip. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’ll do it.’ She slipped off the table then shimmied out of her shorts.
She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
She laughed—pleasure and shock in the sound. ‘I didn’t expect this either,’ she said. ‘I didn’t dress right.’
‘You dressed just right.’ His voice was husky in his ears, or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through his body that drowned out any other sound. One-handed he undid his trousers, his other hand firm on her spine. He licked her lips, kissed her, then licked again.
Her moans of appreciation were going to break him apart.
‘Protection,’ he said with a sudden gulp.
‘You’re protecting me,’ she said, kissing his face with fast, open-mouthed kisses.
‘Us. I mean us.’
‘Oh God—yes. Of course. Be quick.’
He lifted her off the table. ‘I mean to serve and protect every which way.’
She laughed as she wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, securing herself to him.
He reached his bedroom, thumped the door open with his bare foot and strode towards the chest of drawers on the far side.
‘Quick,’ she said, her fingers pressing into his shoulders. Then she laughed again, holding onto him, her naked body warm and soft—and wrapped around him. Had he mentioned that part? How lucky could a guy get?
Far out—and how far away was that chest of drawers?
He pulled out the top right-hand drawer. He was pretty sure that’s where he kept them, but he couldn’t remember—his head was too full of Rachel. ‘Shit,’ he said, fumbling. ‘Got them. Sorry for the break in play.’ But he’d got her to the bedroom. Where there was a bed. A soft and comfortable place for her. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m desperate. I’ve never been desperate like this before.’
‘Neither have I.’
He put her on the bed and her arms reached for him immediately. He obliged, settling himself on top of her, holding his weight off her by balancing on his elbows.
‘Don’t forget the protection.’
‘I’m onto it.’ He had forgotten, even though said protection was in his hand. But Rachel was around him, naked and warm and willing.
He dealt with the condom, then hovered over her again. There was no need to nudge her thighs apart because she moved for him, welcoming him.
‘Do it, Luke.’
He bent his head to her breasts.
She gasped, her breast swelling beneath his mouth.
He reached between her thighs and opened her with his fingers.
‘Yes,’ she said, her head flung back on the pillow. Her voice came from the base of her throat. ‘Like this. Just like this.’
He played her with his fingers, then circled his thumb and she cried out, pushing her hips to his thrusting fingers.
‘Come for me,’ he murmured.
‘Oh, God, Luke … do it.’
Hearing her answer his demands with her own hardened him more. Her limbs were hot, her eyes a darkened green, like leaves in the moonlight. Misty, still pleading for more.
Seconds later she trembled and arched as she orgasmed.
His focus was hazy now, watching her. Watching the results of what he’d done for her. Feeling it happen against him. When it ended he pulled her more securely beneath him, placing himself at her soft entrance. Her legs came around him and he pushed into her. His body went taut, and his eyes closed as her muscles pulsed around him.
Her fingers pressed into his shoulders again, pulling at him. ‘Come for me,’ she whispered, and he toppled. ‘Come inside me, Luke …’
He ground into her, his fingers digging into her hips. He thrust hard and high. He was buried in her. He was drowning in her.
He came in an agonising burst of pleasure, his teeth clenched as the sensation of her and what she’d done to him exploded in his veins.
Seconds later and the quiet of the room pulsed around them.
He turned them on the bed, so he was beneath and she was on top of him. He held her like it was the last time he’d ever get the chance.
She put her face on his chest and gave a sob. A big, single gulp.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, still breathless. ‘I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.’
‘I can’t believe how much I love you,’ she said, her voice faint.
‘Don’t cry,’ he told her.
But he let her cry, relishing holding her while she went through it. Loving being the man she was letting herself go with—physically and emotionally. She had him in the palm of her hand. He’d do anything for her.
‘You’re the woman I never thought I’d meet,’ he said—and she laughed against his chest.
‘What?’ he said, not sure if he should be affronted or not.
‘You like your women awkward then,’ she said, laughing and crying. ‘I’m a woman who came with a nightmare tagging behind her.’
‘You’re a woman who came in my arms,’ he reminded her, and she smiled at him through her tears.
He kissed her, happy he’d made her smile. She’d laughed for him. She’d thrown herself int
o his arms just like he’d always hoped she would. She’d cried with him and let him comfort her. And she loved him. The next time they did this it was going to be soft and gentle, the way he’d imagined their first time would be—but, holy Jesus, this time had been incredible.
‘I’m sorry I tore your shorts,’ he said, not sorry at all.
She lifted her face to look at him. ‘I’m happy, Luke. I’m crying because I’ve never been happy before and I didn’t realise it until now. You can tear my clothes any time you like.’
‘Copy that.’
Nineteen
Rachel stepped out of Luke’s shower and dried herself quickly with the towel he’d given her.
They’d sprawled on his bed and held each other for nearly an hour, talking softly about nothing in particular and everything important. Like how his middle name was Mark, and how he liked chicken curry and she liked peppered steak.
She rubbed a clear spot in the condensation on the bathroom mirror and looked at herself, wondering if she’d appear different now. She’d thought Rachel had abandoned her—but Luke had found her and brought her back. Would he love her tomorrow or the next day or next week? Would he love her enough to see past the problems she might have brought to his town? She didn’t know, but she had the courage to face whatever came next.
She towel-dried her hair, untangled it with her fingers as she pushed it back from her face, then dressed quickly in pale blue jeans and added a pink leather belt. She slipped into a bra and then a rosy-pink T-shirt. She ought not to wear such casual, summery, carefree clothing today, but she had little choice as it was all she’d brought with her.
The blinds were closed on all the windows in Luke’s house, but a vivid glow of sunshine creased the edges of the bathroom blind. She hurried; stuffing her toiletries into her bag, now emptied of all but a few of the possessions she’d take with her wherever she and Luke needed to go.
‘Don’t do that! Jax, I’m warning you—damn.’
‘What is it?’ Rachel asked, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen. She dumped her bag on the bench.
He swept his gaze over her, then took her face in his hands. ‘God, but you look lovely.’ He kissed her, his mouth warm. ‘Pink’s your colour,’ he said. ‘And you taste like a cherry.’ He released her and turned to the kitchen counter. ‘Grab what you need, sweetheart. We’ve got to go. Rosita’s run off to find her boyfriend Peter Morrison and Jax is out looking for her.’
‘Rosita told me about this man.’ And Jax must be frantic with worry. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘You’re doing nothing. I’ll take you to the station—you’ll be safe there. I need all available officers out on patrol, but I’ll lock you and Jimmy in. Usual procedure,’ he added, glancing at her. ‘Can’t have Jimmy on his own in the station. Christ—Jimmy’s going to get a shock this morning with what’s going on.’ He picked up his radio and made a call. ‘Will? Rosita’s skipped out to find Morrison, and Jax is looking for her. Tell everyone to keep an eye peeled for both—and if you find Jax, haul her arse into the station.’
‘Will do.’
‘I need to call Mary,’ Rachel said as he picked up his equipment belt. ‘To tell her where I am.’
‘We’ll do it from the station.’
He ran a scan of his equipment, checking each item secured to the belt, then slung it around his waist, fastened it, and adjusted it, like he’d probably done a thousand times. He also wore a navy blue vest, which was packed with more gear. He didn’t have his gun holstered on his belt though: he had it strapped around his upper thigh. He checked that weapon too, then holstered it. He was fully armed. A six-foot-two mass of dynamic male.
‘Is that bulletproof?’ she asked, pointing at the vest.
He nodded.
He had a job to do, and Rachel wanted to assist in any way she could. She knew he didn’t have much information on her ex-husband apart from police reports. But Rachel had insider information, and anything she could tell him might help.
‘Peter got harder,’ she said, eyeing Luke’s gun and the Taser. ‘He must have. That time in my flat—he was deranged. He didn’t kill either of us, but he was so close to it.’
‘Did he speak to you? Berate you for something?’
‘He didn’t talk at all but he was powerful. More than I’d remembered. His eyes were crazy, dark and dilated—as though they were burning for revenge—and yet we hadn’t done anything to him to make him hate us. His breathing was so … harsh. As though he was catching up with whatever his lungs were doing.’
Luke inhaled, then exhaled slowly.
‘What?’ she asked. ‘You think it’s drugs?’ She’d thought the same. It had been self-satisfaction at his control over others when she’d lived with him. But he’d changed in the years since then. Changed for the worse.
‘Methamphetamine, probably,’ Luke said. ‘Speed. It gives you bursts of energy and power—an immediate high, if you ingest it the right way. Overuse it and you sound like you’re gasping or breathing heavily and erratically, and your behaviour changes as messages between brain and body speed up.’
‘When I saw him three months ago he was wasted. He had a chest injury too. He’d been hurt.’
‘That doesn’t surprise me.’
‘Why? What’s he involved in?’
‘Do you know anything about a business called Serenity Flower House?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve never heard of them.’
‘It’s a worldwide plastic flower business. They’re a front for money laundering and they’ve recently got into the drug trade too. I think someone on its board owns the building firm Donald Wiseman contracted for the museum upgrade. Come on.’ He moved around the counter, his stride purposeful, and headed for the door.
‘Wait—’ She grabbed his arm. ‘Wiseman—he’s trying to persuade the Tidy Town committee to purchase artificial decorative flowers instead of growing the real thing—plastic plants, Luke. The type Serenity Flower House sell. He says it’ll save money in the long run. But the Agatha Girls have checked it out and they’re saying the costs involved aren’t as high as Wiseman says they are. They’re talking about a few thousand dollars. Do you think he’s skimming that too?’
Luke turned to her. ‘Too?’ he asked. ‘What else is Wiseman taking?’
‘Petty cash. Mary’s concerned someone’s taking it and thinks it’s him. But there’s never anything much missing. A dollar or two a week at most.’
‘It might add up.’ Luke nodded slowly. ‘A few dollars a week, a few thousand from a building contract, and a fake flower purchase. He told me he was strapped for cash and that an old friend helped him out then demanded he get them the contract for the museum upgrade. He probably got a hefty commission on that.’
‘He steals the tea and coffee sachets too. And the biscuits.’
Luke sighed, looking to one side. ‘Once a thief, always a thief.’
‘That’s the cop talking.’
‘No, it’s not. The likes of Wiseman take whatever they can. Soap and shampoo from hotels. A dollar someone dropped in the queue at the supermarket. Sugar sachets from the work kitchen. They can’t help themselves. They see something, they want it, they take it. Doesn’t matter if it’s worth a dollar or five thousand. Rachel,’ he said in a quieter tone, taking hold of her fingertips in his. ‘Don’t be frightened, but I need you to be aware of everything that’s going on. Wiseman told me a Peter Morrison contacted him and asked about any new women in town. Wiseman gave him your name.’
Rachel blinked, her mind racing as she took this information in.
‘Jax just told me that Rosita was first propositioned by one of the museum builders,’ Luke said. ‘This Peter Morrison guy stepped in and took her attention.’
‘But what’s this got to do with my ex-husband?’
‘Fletcher’s done something to annoy the builders. Maybe he stole from them, and they’re chasing him. Which is why I think they’re here—because you’re here.’
>
Waiting for Peter to find her.
Rachel dropped her hands and took a breath. ‘And this Peter Morrison? He was asking questions about me because he’s after Peter too?’
‘Not sure who he’s after or who he’s working for. But he’s here. Rosita gave Jax a description. He’s a big guy. Real friendly and polite but forceful and persuasive—and now I’ve told you all this, I think I’ve just confirmed another connection.’
‘What?’
‘The guy I told you about—the one who’s apparently on my back.’
He told her what had happened to him in a warehouse, keeping it brief and without emotion. Then he gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I think Morrison is also the guy from my past. The same guy who stabbed me in the warehouse.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘A sense. Instinct. I don’t know. The profile fits if nothing else. Big guy. Friendly—he thanked Wiseman for the information on you. The man who stabbed me apologised to me.’
‘Are you saying you think he’s—’
Luke nodded. ‘I think he might be a cop.’
‘A good one, or a bad one?’
‘I guess we’ll find out.’
* * *
Luke held her hand all the way to the station. He held it from the moment he took her outside his house and helped her into the front seat of the police wagon. He even held it during the times he didn’t have to change gear on the short drive from his house into town. Until the moment he’d led her into the station office five seconds ago, he’d hardly let her go.
‘Jimmy, we’ve got stuff going down.’
‘Someone been murdered?’
‘The day is young. We’re calling the troops. I want a meeting here in twenty minutes.’
‘Who?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Those on shift?’
‘All of us.’
‘Those with gastro too?’
‘Don’t be facetious, mate. My patience is running thin today.’
‘And it’s only seven am,’ Jimmy said as he picked up the landline, then licked his thumb and shuffled through the pages of a small notebook on his desk. ‘First Constable Louie Lee, get your pants on, there’s a meeting in the cop shop in twenty.’ He cut the call and punched in another number. ‘Senior Constable Donna Murray, feeling ready for anything? Good. Meeting in the cop shop in twenty. Priority.’