by Paula Graves
“The motel’s not so bad,” he said. But she could tell the words were perfunctory.
She turned back to look at him. “I make a mean omelet.”
His lips curved. “Now you’re playing dirty.”
“And, okay,” she admitted, “I would feel a little safer if someone else was here tonight.”
He laid one large hand on her shoulder, the touch gentle and undemanding. Still, the flesh beneath her robe tingled and burned as if he’d caressed her. “I’ll take the sofa.”
She eyed the brightly colored sofa warily, feeling a little guilty at the idea of his spending the night hunched up there, trying to make his long limbs fit. “It’s not very big.”
“It’ll do.” He dropped his hand away from her shoulder and sat on the sofa, hunching forward to rub his face. His palms swished audibly against the rough patch of beard growth shadowing his jaw. “I’m keeping you up. You probably have classes in the morning or something.”
“I have a lab at eleven,” she answered softly, surprised by how much willpower it was taking not to snuggle up next to him on the sofa. Where had this sudden susceptibility to big biceps and sexy blue eyes come from?
She was a career woman. Dating was a sporadic thing for her, worked in around classes and studies. She’d tried dating entirely outside the criminology pool, which ended in disaster. Then she’d tried dating a cop—not quite a disaster, but no happy ending there, either. She couldn’t give the time or attention required to nurture a long-term relationship.
Recently, she’d stopped trying.
“Why criminology?” Gabe’s voice rumbled into the middle of her musings. She found him looking up at her, curiosity tinting his blue eyes with hints of smoky gray.
“Why not?” she countered lightly, not sure she really wanted to get into the whole sordid Solano family saga at this time of night.
“My brother Aaron became a deputy after he was arrested for toilet-papering a neighbor’s house,” Gabe answered, leaning back and threading his fingers together behind his head. “Well, not immediately after. In between, he blew out his knee, ending a promising college and maybe pro football career. That might have had something to do with it, too.”
“Probably.” She dropped to the ottoman, trying not to stare too obviously at the lovely things his taut chest muscles were doing to the front of his gray polo shirt. What had they been talking about? Oh, right—criminology and why she’d chosen it as a career. She squelched the urge to fan her hot cheeks.
“My brother-in-law, Riley, became a cop because he didn’t want to be a rancher, so when his best friend became a cop, Riley figured, why not?” Gabe’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching her through the space between his ridiculously long, dark lashes. “Which brings me back to you. How did a nice girl from San Francisco end up in Millbridge, Alabama, investigating murders in the first place?”
She smiled down at him. “It’s a long story, and we both need a little sleep. So how about this? I go get you a pillow and a blanket, and in the morning, over that omelet I promised, I’ll tell you the story of Alicia Solano, girl detective. Sound like a plan?”
The sleepy-eyed look he gave her almost made her knees buckle. For a second, any thought beyond dragging him back to her bedroom with her fled her mind. But she managed to get a grip on her hormones before she did something stupid and headed out of the room in search of bedding.
In the hall closet she found a spare pillow and a thin cotton blanket which should offer just enough cover in this warm climate. She pulled them out and held them tightly against the front of her robe, taking a couple of bracing breaths before she returned to the living room.
Okay, add “sexy Southern men” to the list of “things that make Alicia lose her head and behave like a blithering idiot,” she thought. Not that any of the other men around here had ever had quite such a potent effect on her equilibrium before.
He wasn’t even her type. He had to be in his mid-thirties, putting him nearly a decade older than she was. She’d never been one to find older men particularly attractive.
Yeah, but those older men didn’t look like Gabe Cooper, chica.
She took no small amount of pride in the steadiness of her gait as she took the bedding back into the living room. Gabe was in the kitchen, refilling his glass of water. He’d stripped off the polo shirt he’d been wearing earlier, revealing a plain white T-shirt beneath.
Alicia held back a whimper when he came around the kitchen counter into the living room, revealing just how tightly the soft cotton hugged his muscular arms and shoulders. She dropped the bedding on the sofa and retreated to the kitchen for her own glass of water.
She gulped it down greedily, keeping her back to the living room. She ventured a quick glance over her shoulder. “Do you need another pillow or a heavier blanket?”
“No, this will be fine.” Gabe’s muscles flexed as he unfolded the blanket and laid it over the back of the sofa.
By the time Alicia returned to the living room, he was sitting on the sofa with one boot off, busily untying the string of the other boot. “When I was a kid, we used to go camping in the woods up on Gossamer Ridge—it’s the mountain behind our house. I have five brothers and a sister, and the whole crew would go—even Hannah, who was the baby.” He grinned up at her, clearly caught up in the memory, and Alicia sank to the ottoman before her legs gave out on her.
“Big family, huh?” Her voice sounded faint and raspy, but if Gabe noticed, he gave no sign.
“Yeah, and getting bigger all the time. Aaron’s getting married next month, and Luke and Abby just found out she’s expecting. There’ll be Coopers running all over Gossamer Ridge for generations to come. I reckon most of them will go camping during the summers, too.” He waved at the sofa beneath him. “Won’t have a bed quite this comfortable, though.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel like less of a hostess failure.”
He grinned at her, and her legs went gelid. “Did you ever go camping? There are some great places near San Francisco for hiking and camping.”
She laughed aloud at the thought. “My parents were about as far from the camping type as you get. We spent our spare time at museums, libraries and rallies.”
“Well, that can be fun, too,” he murmured, kicking off his other shoe. She couldn’t tell whether he was sincere or just humoring her.
“Sure, but a little camping might have been fun once in a while,” she grumbled. “Just for variety.”
“Tell you what. Next time you and Cissy have a break at school, get her to take you up to Gossamer Ridge and I’ll see how many Coopers we can gather together for a camping trip.” He stripped off his socks and folded them on top of the polo shirt sitting on the coffee table. “Maybe we’ll even take you on the haunted hike.”
She could tell by his tone of voice that he was enticing her into asking the obvious question. But as much as she wanted to know exactly what a haunted hike was, she resisted. Despite her later class schedule, she still wanted to get up early and do some more work on her thesis. And Gabe looked as if he’d just run a marathon uphill. They both needed sleep.
“I might take you up on that if I ever finish my thesis.” She stood, flattening her robe where it had bunched from sitting. “But for now, I have plans to work in the morning before my classes, and you can certainly use a little sleep—”
“Wait.” Gabe’s hand snaked out to circle her wrist. Almost instantly, her whole arm went tingly and hot. “You said you think I should try hypnotic regression, to remember more about what happened the night of Brenda’s murder. I think it’s worth a shot. Do you know anyone here who could do it? Maybe set me up with someone—”
“Actually, I’m a licensed hypnotherapist,” she answered, forcing her voice past the growing lump in her throat. “I could do it.”
“You?” His eyes narrowing, he released her arm. She tucked her wrist against her belly, resisting the urge to rub the burning skin where he’d touched her.
He gazed up at her, bemused. “Just how old are you, anyway?”
She lifted her chin. “Twenty-five.”
“So young.” Gabe laid his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. “Man, this has turned out to be a hell of a night.”
She eyed him with sympathy. “Not quite what you bargained for when you took Cissy’s call, huh?”
He turned his face toward her, opening his eyes. “You haven’t told her about the new murder, have you?”
She shook her head. “It can wait until morning.”
“I wish I could spare her altogether.”
“You can’t. She has even more of an investment in getting to the truth than you do. You know that.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t sound happy about it.
Alicia resisted the temptation to smooth back the unruly dark hair spilling onto his forehead. He looked like a tired little boy. The events of the night had obviously gotten to him. “Get some sleep,” she suggested. “We’ll try to make sense of everything in the morning.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible.” Gabe looked up at her again. “Thanks, Alicia. For all of this. I wasn’t nice to you earlier and you had every right to hang up when I called you tonight. I appreciate the second chance.”
She felt a strange curling sensation in the pit of her belly. “Thanks for giving me a second chance, too. I’m hoping we’ll learn some new things about Brenda’s murder once you’ve had a chance to go back and take a fresh look.”
“It may not work,” he warned. “I don’t like thinking back to that time. My subconscious may be just as resistant.”
“We’ll worry about that when we get there,” she answered firmly, even as she acknowledged what he was saying. Gabe had stumbled onto a scene that had upended the life of his brother, his niece and nephew, and his whole family. She wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to remember that moment again.
But they had to try. If there was anything hidden in Gabe’s subconscious that could help unlock the mystery of the alpha killer, she had to take a shot at unearthing it.
“ARE WE SURE THIS IS A GOOD idea?” Gabe eyed the locket in Alicia’s hands, mesmerized by the dull gold patina. He felt strangely drugged, already, as if just the sight of that locket were enough to drag him into the bowels of his subconscious.
“It’s a great idea,” she reassured him, leaning toward him until he could see down her light gray blouse. Inside was all shadows and temptation. He found a new object of fascination.
There was a pounding sound in his ears. His pulse, perhaps, beating at a rapid-fire cadence, driven by the surge of blood gathering in his gut and lower. He tried to ignore the sound, preferring to concentrate on picturing the firm curves hidden in the lacy caress of the lavender bra he could see peeking from beneath her unbuttoned blouse.
But the sound wouldn’t go away. He looked away from her breasts, his gaze lifting to meet her dark eyes.
But the face before him wasn’t Alicia Solano’s. The eyes were equally dark, but lifeless and fixed. Instead of Alicia’s creamy olive skin, this face was encased in tight flesh as pale as the grave. Colorless lips parted to reveal crimson-tinted teeth, slick with blood.
Gabe jerked upright, his head pounding. The room was already growing bright with the approach of day, early morning sunlight slanting through the bright red curtains covering the window across from the sofa. In that first, waking moment, he was utterly convinced someone had sneaked past him in the night and murdered Alicia in her bed.
So powerful was the conviction that he’d made it as far as her bedroom door before he caught himself. He looked down at his watch. Only a little after six o’clock. They’d been up past two the night before.
She might be dead asleep, but she wasn’t dead.
He returned to the living room, any hope of getting back to sleep now gone. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed the one person he knew would be up this early.
“Where the hell are you?” his twin, Jake, answered without as much as a greeting.
“Still in Millbridge,” he answered, grinning at the sound of his brother’s voice. “How’s the fishing?”
“Started out fast, but already slowing down. I’m sure my client is thrilled that I’m talking on the phone to my brother while I should be imparting my superior bass angling expertise.”
Gabe heard a very feminine snort on the other end of the line. “Is that your wife?” he asked.
“I didn’t say she was a paying client.”
“Hi, Gabe,” Mariah Cooper called out.
“Hi, Mariah.”
Jake passed along the greeting. “So, what was this mysterious something Cissy wanted with you?”
Gabe caught his brother up on all that had happened in the last twelve hours, relieved to share it all with someone who understood how painful Brenda’s death had been to him. “It was like living it over again. Almost everything, except the setting, was like that night. It was creepy and disturbing.”
“You haven’t told J.D. any of this, have you?”
“No,” Gabe assured his brother. “You can’t, either.”
The sound of footsteps on the porch outside Alicia’s apartment put Gabe on instant alert. “Jake, I’ll call you back,” he said quietly. He flipped the phone closed and pushed to his feet, moving quietly across the hardwood floor on bare feet. He stopped at the door, peering through the fish-eye lens.
A sandy-haired man rose from a crouch, gazing right into the lens.
Jake knew the moment he threw the deadbolt, he’d lose the element of surprise. So he went for speed instead, whipping open the lock and jerking the door open.
The sandy-haired man froze, staring at Gabe.
“Who the hell are you?” they demanded in unison.
Chapter Five
The man standing on the porch seemed more surprised to see Gabe than Gabe was to see him. His eyes narrowed as Gabe blocked the doorway with his body.
“It’s six o’clock. What are you doing sneaking around the porch at this hour?” Gabe pressed. “What’s your name?”
The young man’s pointed chin lifted. “What’s yours?”
Gabe had a couple of inches on the younger man, and at least twenty pounds, but all of that advantage could be negated by a weapon. He gave the man a once-over, checking for any sign of a hidden gun or knife. Fortunately, the stranger was dressed for jogging, in a snugly-fitting gray T-shirt and a pair of running shorts that didn’t have enough room to hide a weapon.
Gabe dropped his guard, marginally. “Gabe Cooper,” he answered the other man’s question. “Your turn.”
The man’s lips pressed to a tight line. “Marlon Dyson.”
“What’s that?” Gabe nodded toward the plastic jewel case lying on the porch at Marlon’s feet.
Marlon looked down. “Something for Alicia. Is she here?” He craned his neck to look past Gabe into the apartment.
“She’s sleeping,” Gabe answered. “She had a long night.”
One of Marlon’s sandy-brown eyebrows notched upward, and Gabe realized what sort of impression he’d just given the other man. But before he could decide whether or not to correct the supposition, footsteps padded across the floor behind him, and Alicia’s sleep-raspy voice sent a ripple of heat flooding into his lower abdomen.
“Marlon? What are you doing here this early?”
Gabe turned to look at her, putting himself squarely between her and Marlon. He tried not to stare, but it was damned near impossible to drag his eyes away from her. She was still wrapped in that terry cloth robe that looked like it had been purchased for someone twice her size, but enough of the robe gaped open to give him a good look at the shadowy cleft between her firm, round breasts and a very tantalizing peek at the curve of her thigh.
Marlon’s voice behind hi
m gave him just enough of a cold splash of reality to control the stirring of his body.
“I was up early, watching the local news, and they teased something about a murder. I had a hunch, so I recorded it.” Marlon reached down and picked up the jewel case he’d put on the porch. “I think it may be another one of those murders.”
Gabe shot Alicia a quizzical look.
“Gabe, this is Marlon Dyson. We share lab duties for a couple of classes in the psych department. Marlon, this is Gabe Cooper. I think you probably know his niece, Cissy, from your abnormal psychology labs—tall, dark hair, smart as a whip?”
Marlon’s brow furrowed. “Oh. Right.”
Gabe could tell the introduction didn’t really answer Marlon’s main question—what was Gabe doing at her apartment at six in the morning, while she was still dressed in her fuzzy robe and looking sexy and sleepy at the same time?
“Anyway—” Marlon cleared his throat, taking a step back toward the porch stairs. “I was out running and thought I’d drop the DVD by.”
“Shouldn’t you leave the DVD?” Gabe asked.
Marlon’s face flushed lightly, but he picked up the jewel case and held out the DVD toward Alicia. Gabe took it from him, making Marlon frown.
“Thanks, Marlon. I’ll take a look at the newscast,” Alicia answered, her tone gentle. She took the DVD from Gabe’s hand and gave him a fierce look of warning.
Gabe felt a little guilty—for all he knew, Marlon and Alicia had something going on together. She and her lab partner were close to the same age, probably shared a lot of interests in common.
But the guy was such an obvious poser, with his too-long hair flopping down in his face like a pop-star wannabe and his stupid little soul patch growing like a fungus under his bottom lip. What could Alicia possibly see in a jerk like that?
“See you at eleven?” Marlon asked, craning his head to see past Gabe.
“At eleven.” She raised a hand in a wave, and Marlon headed down the porch stairs. Gabe pushed the door closed and locked it firmly behind him, turning to look at her.