Declan’s fingers were flat against her belly and he pulled her gently so that she could feel every hard inch of him against her back. His hand moved higher, until he cupped her breast. He tested its weight, then his thumb began to tease her nipple erect. An exquisite kind of need was building inside of her. It was urgent to the point of desperation. Her pulse was pounding and she felt helpless to do anything more than dig her nails into the fabric of his jeans.
Using her free hand, she removed his hand from her breast and did a quick spin. Getting up on tiptoes, she planted her mouth on his. There was nothing slow or tentative about the mingling of their tongues. He tasted faintly of beer.
Chasyn ran her palms up over his chest, then laced her fingers behind his neck and dragged him closer. Declan’s hands skimmed her sides, pausing briefly at her waist before reaching around and cupping her bottom. He pressed her to him and there was no mistaking the feel of his erection. His quick response made her feel powerful, and desire pulsated through every nerve in her body.
She lowered her hands and began to explore the expanse of his body. She was emboldened when he let out a little gasp when her fingertips dipped beneath his waistband. Chasyn’s probe went further, until she managed a whisper-light pass across his boxers and the outline of his rigid penis.
Before she realized what was happening, Declan swooped her up in his arms and carried her to the desk. Still kissing her, he laid her down gently, then reached up her dress and made quick work of slipping off her thong. She heard the sound of his belt buckle and then his zipper. He reached up and covered her breast with one hand as he positioned himself between her legs.
Chasyn’s mind was mush. All she could think about was the promise of satisfaction. She wanted it now. She reached for his hips but when she did, he caught both her hands in his and said, “Wait,” into her mouth.
Chasyn didn’t want to wait. She wanted the fullness of him inside of her. She was teetering on the brink of climax and they hadn’t even had sex yet. Ignoring his instruction, she reached for him again. This time, he captured her wrists in one hand and lifted them above her head. She was half-on, half-off the desk and practically immobile. And she was out of her mind with desire. She broke off the kiss and breathlessly said, “Now.”
Declan just offered a hooded, sexy smile and began kissing her neck as he moved close enough so that she could just feel him brush against her moistness. He was driving her absolutely crazy and she arched against him as her fingers raked through his hair. “Declan?” she practically purred.
Still holding her wrists, he thrust into her, filling her. Three more thrusts and Chasyn’s body shivered as an intense climax rolled through her entire body. Declan followed suit and then practically collapsed on top of her.
A million thoughts raced through her head, but the most pressing was her need for air. “You’re crushing me,” she said.
“Sorry,” Declan said, standing. “That was incredible,” he complimented as he redressed.
Chasyn reclaimed her thong and straightened her clothing. “Incredibly stupid.”
“I used protection,” he argued.
She looked up into his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about the suddenness of it.”
“You’re complaining because I gave you a quick, mind-blowing orgasm?”
She sighed. “No. I just mean I haven’t really thought this through. Having a sexual relationship with you has complications.”
“Such as?”
“First, there’s my parents.”
“You tell your parents about your lovers?”
“No. Not that it would be a very long story but thanks for making me feel like the Whore of Babylon.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“They’re paying you to protect me, not fuck me.”
“You’re overthinking this.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “I like to weigh the consequences of my actions before I take them. But with you I seem to be acting first and thinking second.”
Declan bent down and kissed her temple. “You need to embrace your inner spontaneity. We had hot sex in a storage unit. That’s a first for me.”
“Good to know you can cross that off your bucket list. Can we just finish going through the last two boxes?”
“Sure,” he replied easily.
Chasyn half-heartedly wanted to slap the smug smile off his face. Of course, the other half of her wanted to drag him back to the desk for round two. She was a mess. Instead of dwelling on it, she went over to the next box and discovered a collection of porcelain figurines wrapped in bubble wrap. She opened them all but didn’t find anything secreted away. “This was pointless,” she grumbled. “There’s nothing here that sheds any light on her relationship with Lansing.”
He winked at her. “It was still worth the trip.”
“The desk,” she said.
“Was amazing,” he finished.
Chasyn walked back to the desk and opened the top drawer. Empty. She tried the second one: same result. But she hit pay dirt in the bottom drawer. Reaching inside, she retrieved the sleeve. “A DVD.”
“Of what, I wonder?” Declan asked.
“I doubt it’s Christmas with the family,” Chasyn said. “But there’s nothing written on the disc.”
“Think it might be a sex tape?” he asked.
“Or it could be a video of Lansing and Mary together. Pictures tell a thousand words.”
Chasyn slipped the disc into her purse. “I only want three words—‘Lansing did it.’”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They left the storage locker and headed back to Declan’s to look at the DVD’s contents. It was early evening and the sun was already setting. While it was a very comfortable seventy-five degrees, the minute the sun went down, so would the temperature. But Chasyn didn’t need to worry about getting a chill. Her body was still warm from their passionate lovemaking. Not that she’d ever admit it to Declan, but hands down it had been the best sex of her life. And she didn’t want to admit to herself that it was special for more reasons than just spontaneity. She snuck a quick glance at his handsome profile. She didn’t see anything but perfection and a lazy smile.
A slight pain stabbed at her heart. Declan met every item on her checklist save for two. If she wanted him, she’d have to accept his terms. Just a temporary thing until it burned itself out. A fling might be okay, maybe. If she could just get over her fear that she wouldn’t be able to keep her heart separate. Conversely, she had never been so attracted to a man in her life and she certainly didn’t want to walk away. As soon as this situation was resolved, there would be no reason for her to continue a relationship—such as it was—with Declan. And that was the ticking clock. As soon as they had proof that Lansing was behind the murders, there really was no reason for their paths to cross again. Unless Declan called her for the occasional booty call. She cringed inwardly at the thought. She wasn’t the booty call type. She needed more of a connection than just being some guy’s convenient bed buddy. Of course, she’d thought that way before she’d met Declan. If she didn’t want to say good-bye, then she’d have to accept him on his terms.
Hardly the end of the world. Sex with him was mind-blowing and she enjoyed his intelligence and his sense of humor. Hell, she even envied his sense of spontaneity. Chasyn raked her fingers through her hair and struggled to keep from scratching her stitches. God, it would be good to have them removed. They served no purpose now except to remind her of how close she’d come to death on the courthouse steps over a week ago.
“I’m starved,” he said as he eased the car off I-95.
“We ate three hours ago,” she reminded him.
“I’m a growing boy,” he teased. “Like Chinese?”
“Sure,” she answered, though she was still full of tuna and spicy fruit.
Declan pulled into a small strip mall, parked and cut the engine. “C’mon.”
Sliding down from the high seat of the
Explorer, Chasyn adjusted the hem of her dress and followed him to the storefront advertising free egg rolls with the purchase of any dinner. Once inside, she drank in the pleasant smells of the food wafting forward from the kitchen. She still wasn’t really hungry, but she couldn’t resist the lure of the food. She settled on an order of pot stickers, which earned her a frown from Declan.
“Is that all you’re going to eat?” Declan asked.
She nodded. “It’s my usual order.”
Declan went on to place a large order for himself, and in a short period of time the counterman was passing them a giant bag full of containers. Food in hand, they returned to the Explorer and drove the few miles to Declan’s place. Once inside, Declan laid the food out in the middle of the table, then retrieved plates, utensils, and enameled chopsticks before joining her.
“Want an egg roll?” he offered.
“Sure,” she teased. “With a side of duct tape so I can attach it directly to my hips.”
He laughed. “Trust me, there’s nothing wrong with your hips.”
Chasyn felt her cheeks warm. “If I keep eating like this without getting any exercise, I’ll blow up like a balloon.”
“You can go for a run tomorrow if you’d like.”
“Really?” she asked with measured excitement. “What about Müller?”
“You can run at the compound. It’s totally secure.”
“Is it?” she queried. “I mean isn’t Müller some sort of long-distance shooter? What if he’s perched somewhere just waiting to catch me alone?”
Declan stilled his chopsticks. “There isn’t any place he could use as a perch within a thousand yards of the compound and Adam checks all the vehicles for tracking devices.”
“He could climb a tree.”
Declan tossed out a disarming smile that reached his ice-blue eyes. “Too dangerous. He’d have to hide his car, then climb a tree while carrying his weapon. He’d have no way of guaranteeing a clean shot at you. Then there’s wind speed and other variables to consider. Too many variables for a professional like Müller.”
“Still, the guy who ran from the van last night is still out there.”
Declan reached out for her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and placed a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. “Stop worrying so much. I would never put you in a position of danger.”
Chasyn sighed. When he touched her and looked into her eyes it was nearly impossible to do anything but believe him. “If you say so,” she said, still distracted by his touch.
Declan gave her hand one more kiss before he went back to eating. Chasyn managed to eat three of the six pot stickers before she pushed the container toward the center of the table. While Declan finished eating, she took the DVD out of her purse and carefully balanced it between her thumb and forefinger. “Think it’s a sex tape?” she asked.
“If so that might explain why he killed Mary,” Declan said as he closed the take-out boxes and placed them in the refrigerator. “If she had a tape of the two of them doing their thing that would go a long way toward proving paternity.”
“So would Lansing’s DNA,” Chasyn groused.
“My guys are on it,” he assured her. He came over, took the DVD from her, and placed it into the state-of-the-art media setup.
In no time, Chasyn stood there dumbfounded as the images played out. Dr. Lansing was the star of the show—well that wasn’t exactly true. His clothing—or lack thereof—was the real revelation. He was wearing a red teddy with black lace, a matching garter belt, and a thong. Thigh-high stockings gave way to stilettoes. He pranced in front of the camera, stopping like a trained fashion model to strike a pose.
Chasyn was more than a little stunned. Lansing had always seemed like such a stuffed shirt to her. She exchanged glances with Declan, who also seemed to have his interest piqued by this unexpected turn of events. Not only was Lansing a cheater, he was also into playing dress-up in women’s undies.
And he wasn’t alone. A female voice behind the camera offered suggestions and at times harsh directives. Lansing always answered, “Yes Mistress.”
“Seems the good doctor has a wild side,” Declan commented.
“But did Mary know about it?”
“Easy enough to check,” he said as he joined her on the couch. “I’ll have Ziggy isolate the female voice on the DVD and then run it past the ex-husband. We should know if it’s Mary or not in a matter of minutes.”
“Is there anything Ziggy can’t do?” she asked.
Declan’s phone rang just then. “Hello?” After a brief pause he said, “Now?” then, “We’re on our way.”
“Our way to where?” she asked.
“Detective Burrows wants to see us,” he explained. “Something that can’t wait until morning.”
Chasyn wanted a shower more than she wanted to spar with the surly detective but Declan was already grabbing his keys.
* * *
The Palm Beach County Sheriff’s office was part of a large law enforcement building in the heart of West Palm Beach. The parking lot was nearly empty so they found a space very near the entrance. The air had cooled considerably and Chasyn’s shift dress was no match for the chilly breeze that chased her to the building’ entrance. It only got worse inside. Air conditioning was streaming out of every ceiling vent, creating frigid down drafts in the waiting area. She sat in a battered chrome and pleather chair while Declan told the desk sergeant they were there to see the detective.
The smell of stale coffee, competing with cherry-scented deodorizing cleanser, filled the air. In the distance, she could hear the faint hum of a vacuum cleaner.
Declan didn’t have enough time to sit. He had only taken a couple of steps before a door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY opened. Detective Burrows, tie loosened and the first button on his white dress shirt opened, greeted them with underwhelming enthusiasm. “Come this way,” he said as he held the door open with his foot.
“We’re waiting for Jack,” Declan said as he passed the detective.
That brought a definite scowl to the balding man’s face. “I don’t think you need an attorney for this. I’m just going to update you on the investigation.”
Just as he said that, Chasyn heard Jack’s voice in the vestibule. He caught the edge of the door and joined them.
Chasyn did a little mental comparison of the brothers. Jack was handsome in a polished sort of way. Though they shared the same basic coloring, Declan was at least two inches taller and much broader than his brother. More important, she didn’t have the hots for Jack.
“Chasyn.” He acknowledged her as he came up behind her in the hallway.
“Hi,” she said as she caught a whiff of his citrusy cologne. He was dressed in a pair of khakis and a royal blue dress shirt but no tie. “Sorry you had to come out so late.”
He just shrugged. “Duty calls.”
“You Kavanaughs are big on duty,” she muttered as she followed Declan and the detective into a conference room.
It was a long room with several county maps tacked to one wall. On the other side of the room was a large mobile white board. On the white board were several photographs and documents pinned up in what looked like a random pattern, until her eyes fixed on the crime scene from the courthouse steps. Kasey lay in a heap with a large bloodstain around her head. Chasyn’s stomach flip-flopped.
“Is that necessary?” Jack asked. Apparently he had keyed in to her reaction.
“Sorry,” Burrows said, then went over and turned the picture around before jabbing a tack into the top of the now hidden photo. “Have a seat,” he said, waving his arm toward the seats across from him at the highly polished table.
Chasyn was sandwiched between Kavanaughs. Her attention was still on the white board. There were pictures of the crash scene from the night before as well as photographs of the dead homeless man. The display included clues and information on the murder of Mary Jolsten as well. In the center of the board was an eight-by-ten photo of Dr. Lansing.
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“We were able to remove a projectile from your car,” Burrows told Declan.
“And?” Jack asked.
“It is a ballistic match to the projectile we recovered from Ms. Becker’s brain at autopsy.”
Chasyn’s stomach churned again.
“What I need from the two of you is a better description of the shooter.”
Declan let out a long breath. “It was dark and I was more concentrated on avoiding the gunfire.”
“I mostly had my head down,” Chasyn said. “When they tried to pull even with us, I only got a quick glimpse of the man.”
“Describe him,” Burrows commanded.
Chasyn closed her eyes briefly and tried to conjure a clear image. It wasn’t easy; she’d been scared out of her mind at the time and between the blinding headlights and the darkness, she had more of an impression than an identification. “Hispanic, I think. Heavyset. Hair slicked back, maybe into a ponytail.”
“About how tall was he?”
She blinked. “He was seated.”
“Five-ten or eleven,” Declan chimed in. “I saw him run from the car.”
“Any distinguishing marks?” the detective asked.
“Yeah,” Chasyn said sarcastically. “A really big gun.”
“Can you describe the gun?” Burrows asked.
Using her hands, Chasyn spread them about ten inches apart. “Maybe that long, with a nubby kind of thing sticking out of the end.”
“Sounds like a Tec-9,” Declan said.
“That was what ballistics said,” Burrows said. He moved forward so that he could rest his fingertips on the table top and lean closer to her. “Miss Summers, is there somewhere you can go until we get the second perp in custody?”
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