by Virna DePaul
“It’s her turn. And after what she’s been through—hell, after how hard she’s worked—she deserves it.”
Instantly, Jase recalled how pale she’d looked the only time he’d stopped by to see her at the hospital. She’d been groggy and trying to hide the pain she was in, but he’d seen it. Hell, yeah, she deserved it. She was a good cop. But so was he, and he’d wanted the lead on the case. He’d wanted the accolades closing it would win him.
But Carrie wanted them, too.
He swiped a hand across his jaw. “Yeah, I suppose.” But he still didn’t like it. His own ambition aside, Jase didn’t like the idea of her working a case with a perp that was obviously as fucked up as this one. Which, considering what Jase and Carrie both did for a living, was a joke. Carrie would be the last woman to play it safe or let herself be coddled by a man. If she knew he felt the slightest bit protective of her, she’d kick his ass, then jump right back into the fray without a backward glance. And that was just reason number two to stay away from her.
Reason number one was what she made him feel. Too much. He’d spent his childhood witnessing exactly what kind of misery two strong-willed, passionate people could bring each other. Plus, his job was intense enough. He wanted a personal life that was indulgent and mellow. And if he followed Mac’s lead and actually married someday? Well, he wanted a woman who was indulgent and mellow, too.
Jase glanced at DeMarco and, for the first time, noticed the dark circles under the man’s eyes. DeMarco needed some mellowness of his own. He’d been working one difficult case after another. While he seemed social at the moment, he was moodily silent at work. Word around the department was the stress might be finally getting to him. “What about that witness in your Alvarez case? You get anything on that?”
“The neighbor with the rap sheet a mile long? She’s recanted everything. Says the officer misunderstood and that of course that nice little boy from across the street would never have done something so horrible. Never mind that the little boy has gang tattoos on his face and packs more heat than a SWAT officer.” He shrugged and, despite his obvious exhaustion and frustration, showed no signs of an imminent breakdown. As usual, “the word” was likely all bullshit. “So,” DeMarco said, looking at Jase askance. “Ward is a no-go?”
Jase automatically glanced up to see if she was still talking to the bartender. Instead, she was looking around her while holding a beer. She took a swallow before looking directly at Jase again. This time, he felt the fire in her wide-eyed gaze ignite sparks from his chest down to his toes. Color climbed her cheeks, suggesting that she felt the heat, as well. He told himself to look away, but he couldn’t. His vision became so clear that he could see the flutter of her pulse in her throat as well as the slight chafing of her pouty lips, as if they’d recently been kissed raw.
In reality, they probably only looked at each other for a few seconds. Five at most. In that moment, he felt the world around him disappear. The pull between them was so intense that he actually stood up. Abruptly, she blinked. She said a quick word to the bartender, then turned on her heel and walked rapidly toward the restrooms. Jase instinctively took a step to go after her.
“Jase, stop!”
The command registered but was slightly muffled. He shook his head, trying to clear the lust-induced fog that weighed it down. “What?”
DeMarco looked at him incredulously. “Man, you can deny it all you want, but you practically staked your claim on her in front of everyone.”
Every muscle still vibrating and at the ready to run after her, Jase forced himself to sit down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“So was it just her ass you were admiring? ’Cause it looked to me like you never took your eyes off her face.”
“Shut up, DeMarco,” Jase growled while opening his eyes.
He could only stand DeMarco’s cheery humming of “man-eater” for a few minutes. “I gotta take a leak,” he muttered and stood. “Grow up while I’m gone, would you?”
* * *
BRAD TURNER WATCHED as the sexy brunette handed the good-looking man her card, then walked past the bar, smiling and hips swaying. Although the guy’s dark-haired friend enjoyed the view, the woman’s target absently pocketed her card without even looking at it. All his attention seemed to be on the plain redhead with a stick up her butt.
After several minutes, Brad watched the redhead walk toward the bathrooms. Unlike the other woman, there was nothing flirtatious or teasing about the way she walked. Despite her slight limp, which made Brad wonder what had caused it, her pace was measured and confident, though she’d seemed shaken by the way the guy at the other table had looked at her. Not surprising, that same man stood and followed her to the restrooms.
Probably to have sex, Brad thought jealously.
He’d never had sex in a bar. Hell, Brad had never had sex at all.
* * *
JASE ZIPPED UP HIS PANTS and washed his hands, then banged his way out of the men’s bathroom. The door didn’t swing wide and then slowly forward as he expected, but instead went to about midpoint before colliding with something with a muffled thud.
“Damn it!”
He couldn’t know for sure, but somehow he knew the person behind that voice had red hair and blue eyes. Sure enough, Carrie Ward stepped around the door.
Her annoyed expression wiped clean the minute she saw him and was replaced by a studied blankness that he saw for what it was—complete and utter bullshit. She saw him, all right, and the knowledge made him feel randier than a seaman on leave. To cover, he tried something he rarely did with her—straightforward common courtesy.
“Welcome back, darlin’,” he said. “I heard you’re working your first serial case. Congrats. Let me know if I can help.”
She narrowed her eyes, as if she wasn’t sure whether he was messing with her. “Thanks, Tyler,” she said simply. Then, with a satisfied smile, she asked, “How’s the ear?”
He grunted. “How’s the leg?”
“My leg is fine.” When she moved to step around him, he automatically countered to block her. She frowned and said, “Is there something you need?”
His eyes shot to hers at the way she emphasized the word need, but her expression had gone blank again. Despite the prior rigidity he’d sensed in her stance, she was now all loose-limbed indifference. She was almost as good as he was at faking casualness. It made him want to drive a response from her even more, and, this time, he didn’t even try to censor himself.
“You know what I need, Ward, and it’s exactly what you need, too. If we weren’t both cowards, we’d stop dancing around each other and just get to it.”
Her eyes widened as her cheeks bypassed pink and went straight to scarlet. But she raised her chin and kept her gaze on his. “And by ‘get to it,’ you mean what? No, wait, let me guess. Me under you, right? Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be me on top, would it? Well, in case it hasn’t dawned on you, I’m not like the women you screw, Tyler. I’ve got a brain and ambition. Sorry if that equates to being a coward in your mind.”
She’d been gone a long time. Having her sparring with him now, just like old times, caused excitement to sizzle through his veins. He leaned closer. “If we ever gave in to this thing between us, having you ride me isn’t something I’d ever turn down,” he said sotto voice to ensure no one overheard. In fact, at his words, his dick almost broke through his fly. Down, boy. “And I like your brain just fine, Ward,” he said quietly.
“Ah,” she nodded. “But not my ambition. Not the fact that I’m a big bad cop who can take you and any other man down? That’s a little too much for even your ego.”
“Anytime you want to take me down, or better yet, get down to more personal matters, I’m all in favor of it.”
Her eyes rounded. Sure, they razzed each other constantly, but he rarely flirted with her. Not like this. Not in a way that immediately had them both picturing their naked flesh pressed together in glorious technicolor.
&n
bsp; She swallowed audibly. “That’s quite a change of heart,” she croaked.
His brows furrowed. “I don’t see how. I told you the last time we were here that I wanted you.”
“You’ve been ignoring me the past month.”
She didn’t look very happy about it. And he was sure she’d rather cut out her tongue than admit it. “I thought we were busy ignoring each other,” he said carefully. “The exact same way you’ve ignored that kiss.”
She scowled.
Amazing that the expression didn’t detract from how beautiful she was. She didn’t advertise it, and he could see how easily it might be missed. But he worked with her and knew how passionately she fought for justice. She was dedicated and strong. Take all that and add her pleasing combination of features to the mix? She got to him on a gut level he couldn’t ignore.
“That kiss meant nothing,” she said. “It was the product of a weak moment on both our parts on a difficult night.”
It pissed him off that she’d dismiss the kiss so easily, but since he wasn’t surprised, Jase grinned and shrugged. “Sure. If that’s what you want to tell yourself.”
Carrie snorted, the sound feminine in spite of itself. “You want to tell me differently?”
He let several seconds pass while he stared at her. Enough time to make her shuffle her feet. Enough time to be tempted to answer honestly. Which was why he kept his mouth shut.
When he failed to answer, she breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s what I thought.”
It was her sigh that did it. Neither of them was going to act on their attraction for each other. Fine. But she wasn’t a coward. Neither was he. Why were they dancing around the obvious? He took a step closer, noting how her eyebrows winged up in alarm. “I want you, Carrie. I’m honest enough to admit it. The only reason I’m not pushing things is because we work together. I have no doubt that sex between us would be out of this world, probably the best either one of us has ever had, but given we both want to go places with our careers, I figure it’s better to not get started.”
“Maybe that won’t be the case too much longer,” she said lightly, then looked as if she wanted to cut out her own tongue. “The working-together part, not the no-sex part.”
“Is that so?”
“Like you said, I want to go someplace with my career. I’ve got my eye on a much higher position. Once I break this serial-killer case, I think I’ll be a serious contender.”
She was gunning for another job? Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’d missed her the last month. The idea of her leaving SIG troubled him and made him realize just how much enjoyment he got from seeing her. “You’re not happy at SIG?”
“Come on, Jase. We both know that because I happen to have breasts, I’ll never be taken seriously as long as I work the streets. It’s why it’s taken so long for me to get a serial case.”
“Your breasts aside…” Though he wanted to, he didn’t glance down. “I never thought I’d hear you play the gender card. We’re all in rotation. We take the cases as they come and as the member with the least homicide experience, it makes sense you haven’t been assigned one until now. Serial cases don’t exactly pop up all over the place.”
“So says a man who’s worked two of them this year.”
“I wanted this one, too,” he pointed out.
“I know. I won’t say I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t expect you to. Now, do you want to come join me and DeMarco?”
“I need to leave. I just came by to see Mac and Natalie. To wish them well before they left. But I have to work.” With a bright, utterly disingenuous smile, she held up her files and said, “Looks like nothing’s changed. You’ve got your pick of women to keep you company tonight, and I’m going to get up close and personal with my case. Tell DeMarco I said hello, okay?”
He didn’t want another woman. And he certainly didn’t want Carrie thinking about him with one. “Damn it, Carrie. You’ve been gone a month. What harm will having a drink with us cause?”
Her expression grew serious. Then she straightened. “I—I don’t want to wait and find out. I can’t afford to,” she muttered. “What I mean is, I have a serial killer to find. Good night, Jase.” With that, she turned on her heel and left.
CHAPTER FIVE
CARRIE EXITED MCGILL’S and took in deep breaths of air. She was a grown woman and had been attracted to plenty of men before. Why was Jase Tyler the only man who could throw her so off course?
Because he turned her on. And turned her inside out. Because a part of her wondered if, in a different time and place, without her baggage or her scars, they might have meant something special to one another. But that was ridiculous. Even without her troubled past, Carrie couldn’t change who she was. What she looked like. She was strong and sturdy, not sexy and svelte. Jase flirted with her because they worked together, because she was there, and because he’d probably been coming on to females since before he could walk. It wasn’t her he wanted, but the challenge she represented. Even so, she couldn’t believe he wanted her at all.
Sensing movement from the corner of her eye, Carrie looked up.
“Murderer!” a voice yelled just as someone clasped her arm, jerked her around and threw her drink. Carrie felt lukewarm liquid splash all over the front of her.
Carrie stared in stunned disbelief at the short elderly woman who stood aggressively in front of her, gripping her with almost superhuman strength despite the fact that her wrinkled skin was paper-thin and looked only slightly more delicate than the frail bones of her body. Her silver hair had a purple tint to it, giving her a comic matronly appearance, but her eyes were a penetratingly clear-blue, staring at Carrie with such hatred that she automatically flinched back.
“Ma’am,” she began.
The woman dropped her now-empty coffee cup and shoved Carrie’s chest with both hands.
Carrie barely moved from the impact, but a suspicious dread ignited in her stomach. She’d never actually met Kevin Porter’s grandmother, but they’d talked on the phone....
The door to McGill’s opened, allowing some of the noise from inside to drift out.
“Hey, lady,” Jase called from behind her.
A quick glance confirmed he was walking toward them, a concerned expression on his face. Carrie held up her hand. “Jase, it’s okay. Let me handle this.”
The woman looked at Jase as if he was a dead snake. “Who are you? Another dirty cop? You’re all bastards. Kevin’s dead because of you. You should all be rotting in hell!”
Carrie had been right—this was Martha Porter. She kept her voice low and steady, trying to disguise the anxiety seeping into her. Her breathing escalated, and she felt a familiar suffocating pressure in her chest.
“Mrs. Porter, you don’t want to do this. Please believe me, I think of Kevin every day—”
Anger and grief radiated from the woman’s furrowed face, and she spit at Carrie with erratic aim, managing to hit her chin and collar. Carrie stood in stunned silence, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.
“Jesus Christ!” Jase stepped in front of Carrie, forcing Martha Porter to step away. “Back off, lady. Now.”
The woman leaned around Jase and pointed her finger at Carrie. “You don’t have the right to say his name. My grandson. I raised him…my baby…” With her final words, the woman’s face collapsed, and she started sobbing.
“Martha!” An elderly man rushed toward them and put his arm around her. He was being followed by a portly man in a navy suit whose briefcase bounced against his legs as he hurried to reach the elderly couple.
“Shh. It’s okay, Martha. Let’s go in now. Don’t you worry now. It’s going to be okay.” The first man led Martha Porter away, shooting a deadly look over his shoulder at Carrie.
The man in the suit stopped to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. We’re meeting someone here. She’s upset…. I’m sorry.” The man twirled around and followed the elderly couple into a building a few do
ors down from McGill’s.
The street was eerily quiet. Acutely aware of Jase’s gaze on her, Carrie raised a trembling hand to her chin and wiped the spit away. She couldn’t do anything about the coffee staining the front of her until she got home. Struggling to remain standing, she closed her eyes and took in several shaking breaths, trying to stave off the panic attack. The stack of files she’d been carrying slipped out of her hand, dumping papers across the sidewalk.
Jase cursed softly, but she was barely aware of him. Her breaths were loud even to her own ears, puffing in and out of her in quick, rhythmic bursts. With each breath, she felt her heart expanding. Growing bigger until it felt ready to explode.
Frantically, she looked for someplace to hide. Please God, don’t let this happen now. She couldn’t have a panic attack. Not here. Not in front of Jase.
But he wasn’t looking at her. He’d bent down and was shoving papers back into their folders. “Who the hell was that?” he groused. “And why’d you let her go off on you? You should have arrested her! Hell, I should have.”
When she didn’t answer him, Jase looked up at her and stood. “Carrie?”
Carrie heard the concern in his voice. Knew she should answer him. But her vision tunneled until she was once again aiming her gun at Kevin Porter, then grappling with him on the ground. Trying to reach her gun before he shot her with it or his own. Shooting him. Killing the same kid who’d drawn the picture of himself with his grandmother, which even now was stuck on the front of her fridge.
“Carrie. Look at me.” Tucking her files in the wedge of his arm, Jase grabbed her face between his palms and brought his own face close to hers. “Look at me.” He smoothed his hands over her cheeks and jaw. Kept murmuring words of reassurance.