by Tami Lund
The surveillance tape had shown them no one who looked like a man dressed in women’s clothing, nor had it shown anyone who was obviously wearing a wig.
“It could be a woman,” Cullen suggested just today.
It could be, Jack decided as he scanned the floor of the club. Each of the victims had been stabbed in the back when the attacks happened. Statistically, stabbings tended to be crimes of passion, which also played in the favor of a female perp. The only victim who hadn’t been stabbed in the back was the woman killed in Ranger’s hotel room. But she’d been a tiny thing, and a female with enough anger and strength to stab someone upward of twenty times could have easily subdued that particular target.
Tonight, they would continue to look for a female suspect on the surveillance tape who looked as if she wore a wig. He zoned in on the group of grannies who were mingling around the door, now flirting with Cullen, who looked mildly ill from the attention. Jack wanted to smile at the comical picture, but was one of those women the perp? If so, why? Why would an elderly woman who attended male strip revues kill off the dancers afterward?
He asked Danny just that while they hung out after the last show of the night, waiting for the after-party to wind down.
“Have you pissed off any older women, Danny?”
Danny snorted. “What sort of woman haven’t I pissed off? I piss off the young ones because I won’t date them; I piss off the old ones because I won’t date them. I piss off the old ones when I do relent and date a young one—and she happens to be their daughter, and Mom wanted to date me, too.”
The man was awfully damn full of himself.
“What sort of women do you date? I haven’t noticed you hanging around a particular type.”
Danny shrugged. “I used to have a type. Well, that’s not true. I just liked women, period. I wasn’t particular. Young, old, thin, fat, they were all beautiful to me. Until about two and a half years ago, when I fell in love. Legitimate, genuine, the real deal.” His shoulders slumped as he sighed.
“So you have someone waiting at home for you?” Given Danny’s travelling lifestyle—and the nature of the business—Jack found that difficult to believe.
Danny shook his head as a look of sadness stole into his eyes. “Not anymore. She found out she was pregnant and was scared to death to tell her mom. Didn’t think her mom would approve of her choice of baby daddy. I told her I wanted to get married and be a family. I told her I loved her. Right before the end, I even offered to give all this up for her. But it wasn’t enough. I never met her mom, but the woman had some kind of hold on her. She ended up killing herself. I came home and found her in the bathtub.” He shuddered and downed the drink he held in his hand.
Feeling like an ass for even asking the question, Jack awkwardly patted his shoulder. “Sorry about that, man.”
Danny shrugged off the sympathy. “It’s over. It’s been almost two years. Now I’m a little more choosy about my bed partners, which unfortunately means I don’t get a piece nearly as often as I used to.”
Jack had never been particularly choosy, either, until he had hooked up with Kennedy. Now, he barely noticed other women. Luckily for him, he already knew Kennedy’s pedigree. He didn’t have to worry about overbearing mothers, but he did have to worry about how to convince the woman that he wanted more than just to climb into her bed for the occasional romp between the sheets.
Damn, women were complicated.
• • •
It was four in the morning by the time they herded the last of the dancers to the hotel. “We’re out,” his partner said, as he wearily trudged toward his truck. Jack followed. Since he happened to have been at Cullen’s house when it was time to report to dancing/bodyguard duty, they’d ridden together.
They were just a few minutes away when Cullen’s phone went off, and he shot Jack an ominous look before pushing a button on the dash to answer the call.
“Someone’s here.” The voice was a harsh whisper and filled the truck cab. His partner immediately braked and did a U-turn in the middle of the road.
“Where are you?” Jack demanded. “Who is this?”
“Danny. Hurry. Help me! I don’t wanna die!”
The connection was lost. Cullen swore roundly and pressed more firmly on the gas. Jack used his own phone to call for backup. They made it back to the hotel in under five minutes. Both men bolted inside, guns drawn, wide-awake and fully alert. They waved badges at anyone who happened to step into their path as they made their way toward Danny’s room.
It turned out to be a false alarm.
There was someone in Danny’s room, but it was an overzealous fan who’d hoped to give him a surprise when he climbed into bed. Her version of a surprise did not involve knives of any sort. The poor woman was just as frightened as Danny.
While it was a relief that no killer had made an attempt on anyone’s life that night, the end result was possibly more disturbing: His and Cullen’s covers were blown. The commotion caused by Danny’s fright, and the swarm of FBI personnel that showed up on the scene, brought all the dancers out of their rooms. Considering Jack and Cullen were first on the scene, both wearing badges attached to their belts and with guns in their hands, it was hard to deny they weren’t actually an exotic dancer and a club bouncer.
A few of the guys were pissed off that they’d been duped, some were pissed off over the idea that Danny thought they needed bodyguards, and a few were just relieved to know the FBI was actively trying to track the person who was killing off their coworkers. Unfortunately, the fact that everyone now knew meant it would be nearly impossible to maintain their cover for long. With so many people in on the secret, the perp himself could already know.
“Shit,” Cullen said as they finally headed home, well after six in the morning. His hands squeezed the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “We have to find this guy. Now. What the fuck are we missing?”
Jack yawned widely. “Give me until noon. Let me sleep for a few hours, and I’ll meet you at the office. We’ll review the tape from last night. We’ll keep watching and keep watching until something sticks, damn it.”
A short time later, he was in his own truck, pulling away from the curb in front of Cullen’s house, heading west instead of south, which would have taken him toward his own home. As Kennedy lived only a few short miles from his partner, he found himself pulling his truck up to the curb in front of her house less than ten minutes later.
Her car was parked under the carport, just as it should be this early in the morning on a non-work day. He recognized Vanessa’s rental car, but there was a third vehicle parked in the driveway. Had Vanessa finally given up her quest to sleep with Jack and taken someone else home instead? It was pretty ballsy of her to take a man home to Kennedy’s house. If Kennedy was pissed off about it, that didn’t bode well for him finagling his way back into her good graces and her bed.
He killed the engine, climbed out of the truck, and headed up the walk to the front door, using the key she’d given him to slip inside. Someone was awake; the light in the kitchen was on. He headed to the kitchen, expecting to find Kennedy there, dressed in her workout clothes, getting ready to go for a jog.
He found a man instead. A man who looked as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. He wore a white t-shirt and a pair of striped pajama bottoms, and was leaning against the counter, sipping black coffee out of one of Kennedy’s mugs. When he lifted his eyes and saw Jack standing in the doorway, he fumbled his drink, sloshing scalding coffee all over himself but managing not to drop the ceramic mug.
“Shit. Ow. Ow. Ow. Shit.” The man danced around, holding the cup at arm’s length and splashing even more of the hot, dark liquid on the ground.
He watched the display until the man calmed down enough to place the cup on the counter, grab a dishcloth, and start wiping himself off.
“Who the hell are you?” the man asked.
Jack noticed he placed the cloth back into the sink witho
ut either rinsing it out or wiping off the great splashes of coffee on the floor. With a sigh, he snagged the cloth and cleaned up the rest of the man’s mess.
“Who are you?” he countered.
“Jerry Coster.”
“Where’s Vanessa?”
Jerry shrugged and refilled his coffee mug. “How’d you get inside?”
“I walked,” Jack said, deciding it was none of this guy’s business that he had a key. “Excuse me,” he said, and he left the kitchen, heading down the hall to Kennedy’s room. He heard Jerry move around behind him, and he suspected the man had stepped into the entry to the hall to watch him, but Jack didn’t bother to turn around to clarify that suspicion. What did he care if Vanessa’s one-night stand saw him slip into Kennedy’s bedroom?
The shades were pulled, and the room was only dimly lit by the weak, early morning light. Clouds had rolled in overnight, and the sky was overcast, the air thick with humidity. It was the perfect day to crawl into bed with a hot woman and while away the time doing various acrobatic exercises that were sure to please them both.
If only he had that sort of time. Instead, Jack knew he needed to prioritize. Make sure Kennedy wasn’t still angry, convince her to make love with him, and then catch a few hours of sleep. If he was able to wake up with enough time to spare before heading to the office to meet Cullen, he would try to talk to her about the state of their relationship, what it meant to him, what it might mean to her. That was the part that would be the hardest of all.
He padded across the room to the bed and stood there, staring down at her sleeping form. Her head was all but buried in a squishy, downy pillow. The comforter was pulled up to her chin, and she was burrowed underneath, curled up in the fetal position. He lightly brushed a strand of hair away from her face, and she sighed and rolled over onto her back. One arm flopped onto the bed and the comforter slipped down to her waist, revealing a lilac camisole. He was tempted to brush his hand over her nipples, but he refrained. Make sure she wasn’t angry first.
He gently sat on the edge of the bed, which was enough movement to cause Kennedy to pull from sleep and blink up at him with confusion in her eyes. “Jack?” she said on a yawn.
And then she sat bolt upright as her eyes scanned the room, as if she expected someone else to be there as well. He reached out and touched her arm.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.”
The look in her eyes warned him that his hastily decided plan was probably not going to happen the way he hoped.
Damn it.
• • •
Kennedy sank back against the pillows. Had Jerry left in the middle of the night? She had a not-so-ridiculous urge to check her purse, to ensure her credit card was still in her wallet.
“Is my car in the driveway?” she asked out loud. Her car was nearly ten years old, but it was still worth a couple thousand bucks. If he was on a roll, Jerry could make that last for a solid twenty-four hours at the casino.
“Yes. How are you feeling?”
That was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. Frustrated. Confused. Angry. Afraid. What would he say if she blurted out all of those rather descriptive terms? He’d probably think she was referring to him. In reality, Jerry’s reappearance in her life had thrown her off-kilter, and she had no idea how to get her equilibrium back.
Unfortunately for Kennedy, she had too big a heart, and Jerry’s heartfelt pleas and solemn oaths that he was a new man had worn her down, at least enough to let him stay for dinner. Which led to his spending the night—on the couch, of course.
He had nowhere else to go. He’d just gotten out of rehab, and with no money and no job, his only other option was to go home to his family, most of whom lived in California and did not know about his gambling problems.
“Besides, I have about forty bucks to my name. That’s not even enough for gas to get through Texas, let alone buy food to eat along the way.”
She’d argued, tried to be strong and tell him that she didn’t care about him or his life, but he wore her down, played to her sympathies.
“Just for one night,” he’d promised. “I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”
“How will tomorrow be any different?” she’d wondered out loud.
“I have a cousin. She lives in central Texas. I can probably make it that far, and then hopefully I can talk her into loaning me enough money to get to California. Just let me sleep on your couch, and I’ll head out in the morning. Come on, Kennedy.”
She’d assumed, based on the way they had left things, that Jack would not be back anytime soon. She thought she’d have time to figure out what to do with Jerry before she’d have to deal with Jack.
Naturally, she’d figured wrong.
Jack touched her arm again, and Kennedy wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, pull him into the bed, and hide under the covers until the rest of the world went away.
“Can we kiss and make up? I’m so exhausted, I’m asleep on my feet, and I have to meet Cullen at the office at noon. I just want to sleep for a few hours, but I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore.”
It was, undeniably, the sweetest thing Jack had ever said to her. She had to wrap her arms around herself to keep from launching into his arms, stripping him naked, and licking him from head to toe. He wouldn’t have to worry about being exhausted. She would do all the work.
Instead of acting out her fantasy, she asked, “Are we alone?”
Jack motioned at the closed bedroom door as his eyes practically devoured her. “I assume Vanessa’s still asleep. The loser she brought home last night is in your kitchen, drinking coffee.”
Her jaw dropped to her chest. “Vanessa brought someone home last night?”
He nodded grimly. “I hope she doesn’t hate herself too much when she wakes up. Hell, if her husband really did cheat on her, she should have either left him or gone to counseling or something. This eye-for-an-eye bullshit is just stupid.”
Her eyes darted to the door. What about Jerry?
“That’s it? Just the two of them? No one else?”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Were you expecting someone else?”
Kennedy shook her head as relief flooded through her system. Jerry was gone. Thank God. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Jack’s waist, tugging him down onto the bed.
“No. Just you. Come to bed with me. I promise I’ll let you sleep. Just give me about twenty minutes or so.”
Jack grinned as he slipped under the comforter. “I like the way you think, babe.”
Kennedy loved the way he felt lying on top of her. Even with clothing as a barrier between them, she could feel the contours of his muscles, the way they bunched as he lowered himself and captured her mouth with his own. She especially loved the feel of one particular muscle pressing against her abdomen. She widened her legs and wiggled until she was high enough on the bed so that muscle pressed between her thighs instead.
“Oh yeah,” he murmured as he rolled his hips, sending shivers of pleasure through both of them. “I missed you,” he whispered against her skin as he kissed a trail along her cheek to her ear, where he teased her lobe with his teeth and tongue.
She choked out a strangled laugh. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since we last saw one another,” she pointed out as her back arched when Jack’s tongue found its way to her cleavage.
“Yeah, but we argued, and I don’t like arguing with you.”
“Oh,” she said, all sorts of emotions swamping her senses. Happiness. Hope. Delirium. Pleasure. Lust. Love.
Yikes!
He didn’t give her time to dwell on that particular, frightening thought. His mouth moved slightly to the right, and he suckled her nipple through the thin fabric of her camisole, causing Kennedy to cry out with pleasure.
“Jack,” she wheezed. “I need … I want … I …”
And that was when her entire world came crashing down around her, in the form of her apparently not-quite-ex-husband storming throu
gh the bedroom door.
“Get off my wife!” he shouted as he took two steps into the room and then started shaking his fist.
Jack leapt off her as if Jerry had taken a shot at him. “Your what?” he demanded as he sat up on the bed and glared at the intruder. Kennedy noticed that Jerry looked faintly frightened, and he wasn’t advancing any farther into the room.
“I thought you said there wasn’t anyone else here?” she accused Jack as she tugged the comforter up over her chest to hide her very pebbled and aching nipples.
Jack gave her a bewildered look. “What the hell are you talking about? This is the guy Vanessa brought home last night … isn’t it?”
She saw the emotions fly across his face. She saw the suspicion, and then the comprehension dawning. Normally, she was attracted to his sharp, analytical mind. Today, she wished he were not quite so brilliant.
“Jack, it isn’t what it looks like,” she blustered, her eyes pleading with him to understand.
“What the hell do you think it looks like?” he demanded as he climbed off the bed and took a couple of steps away, apparently needing to put distance between them. Jerry backed up—probably afraid to get too close to Jack—and backed into Vanessa, who was suddenly looming in the bedroom doorway, looking grumpy and sleep-tousled.
“Why is there so much noise so early in the morning?” she complained as she yawned. She glanced at Jerry, and then did a double take.
“Jerry?” Vanessa exclaimed. “Jerry Coster?” Her head whipped around to stare at Kennedy. “What in the world is your ex-husband doing in your bedroom?”
“Not ex,” Jerry said, sounding far too cheerful. “Good morning, Vanessa. You’re looking lovely as always.”
“I look like I just rolled out of bed and have a hangover,” her cousin snapped. “What do you mean, not ex? I thought you dumped this loser three years ago, Kennedy. He cheated on you, for crying out loud.”