Trust Me (The Donovan Family Book 4)

by Margaret Watson

  He shouldn't care. But he did.

  In the past, if a woman he was dating got possessive or clingy, or demanded more than he could give her, he said goodbye. He dumped them way before things got serious.

  Raine had blown him off. Told him she'd 'see him around'. He'd used that phrase himself – the dating death sentence.

  He didn't want to disappear from her life. He needed to put Northrup away. Needed to make sure Raine was safe. Because he...cared about Raine. He'd hurt her this morning, and it made him an asshat.

  He needed to crawl, and he had no idea how to do it. He hoped the pizza was a first step.

  Raising his hand, he knocked twice. The door opened immediately. Raine glared at him. "Took you long enough to knock. Trying to figure out whether to go or stay? Let me help you out." She grabbed the door and began to close it. "Go."

  He slapped his hand to the door to keep it from closing. "I told you not to open the door."

  "I saw you through the peephole." Her mouth thinned. "The ordering me around was part of your charm when I liked you. Now? It pisses me off." She glanced at the pizza box. "You can take your lame, anchovy-less pizza and shove it up your..."

  "I'm staying. It has anchovies. And pepperoni."

  Her gaze softened for a moment. He'd scored a couple of points for remembering her pizza preference. Then she scowled. "Why anchovies? You don't like them. So why are they on the pizza?"

  "Because you do and I'm sorry about this morning." The words came out in a rush. She looked like she might still slam the door on him. "Because I'm really sorry and I want to talk to you."

  She stared at him for a long time, her gaze impossible to read. She was the Raine he'd met that first day. The closed off, guarded woman. There was no trace of the open, warm Raine of the night before, and he wanted her back.

  He didn't realize how badly until her fingers played with the door, deciding whether to close it or step aside. His heart thundered as he waited for her to make a decision.

  Finally her gaze dropped to the box. "Fine. For anchovies, I'll listen." She opened the door and stepped to the side, allowing him to walk in.

  She headed into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with two bottles of Blue Moon beer, two plates and napkins. She set everything on the coffee table, then waited for him to sit down. She sat as far away from him as possible.

  He nodded at the beer. "Should you be drinking that when you're taking pain pills?"

  She'd opened the box and begun reaching for a slice. She stopped and stared at him. "More of the telling me what to do? Still not charming or sweet." She brought the beer to her mouth and took a drink, holding his gaze. "And don't try to take my beer. Or I will hurt you."

  He held up his hand, a familiar tightening in his groin. Mad at him, smart-mouthed, defensive. But he still wanted her. More than he had the night before.

  Must be the novelty of a woman standing up to him. Calling him on his bullshit.

  Taking a drink of beer, she reached for another slice of pizza. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

  He carefully set his slice on the plate.

  "Raine, last night was amazing." His body stirred just thinking about it. "Off the charts. Brain-frying. And it...it kind of freaked me out."

  Her gaze softened. Until he got to the freaked out part. "Why is that?"

  "Because..." He shoved a hand through his hair. Jiggled his foot. "Because it meant too much."

  "Good thing you got over it so quickly, then." She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the arm of the couch. As if she was trying to get as far away from him as possible.

  "Damn it, Raine." He jumped up and bumped into the coffee table. Beer splashed out of his bottle and spread in a golden ring on the glass surface of the table. "I'm trying to be straight with you. Can you stop with the snark?"

  She kept her gaze on his face. Her expression was unreadable. "Go on."

  "I was an ass this morning because I didn't know what to say. How to act. I don't...I don't do sleepovers." He grabbed his bottle and took a long drink. Used his napkin to wipe up every drop of spilled beer and buy a few more seconds. "Can we chalk this morning up to my idiocy and try again?" he finally said.

  Raine sat up and rested her elbows on her knees. "So basically, what you're telling me is that you're a player."

  He wanted to squirm. When she put it that way, it made him sound like a user. Superficial. Contemptible. "No. Not...maybe before. Not now." Not since I met you.

  He couldn't say it. Just the thought of verbalizing that made his palms sweat and his heart race in dread.

  Raine rolled her shoulders. As if the subject bored her. "No judgment here. Just want to know where I stand." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "And now I do."

  Wait. Not the image he meant to convey. "No. I'm not...you're not like the women I used to date. You're...you're different." Jeez! He sounded like a bumbling idiot. "I have...we have a different relationship." Sweat trickled down his sides, and his palms were damp.

  She raised one eyebrow. "So what you're saying is we're involved on a professional level. Since you're helping me solve my sister's murder."

  "No! That's not what I mean." He drew in a deep, shaky breath. This was why he didn't do 'relationships'. "I care about you, Raine."

  That damned eyebrow went up again. "You don't care about the other women you sleep with?"

  He closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to regain some control. Finally he plopped heavily onto the couch. "That's not what I meant and you know it. First of all, I'm not sleeping with anyone but you. Don't want to sleep with anyone but you."

  He sucked in another deep breath. He hadn't meant to say that. But it was true. He slicked his palms along his thighs. He was totally uninterested in any woman besides Raine. Panic tightened his chest. He swallowed it down, but it burned in his gut.

  "Are you trying to tell me you won't cheat on me?" Her gaze was cool. Assessing. He couldn't read a thing in her expression.

  God, she was tough. And that 'fuck you' expression on her face made him want her even more. He liked that she was straight with him. Told him what she wanted. What pissed her off. "I don't cheat, Raine. Ever."

  She tilted her head and studied him, then nodded slowly. "I believe you. So. Last night was fun. Neither of us is attached. We can work together to figure out who killed Genie, have more fun along the way, say goodbye when it's over."

  It sounded so cold. So calculated. Kind of like telling her he didn't do sleepovers. And it wasn't what he wanted with Raine.

  But he didn't know how to tell her what he did want. Not without laying himself bare and exposing his heart. So he'd go along for now. Until he figured it out. "So you've forgiven me for being an ass last night?"

  She sank back into the couch. "Yeah. I'm over it."

  Over what? He wasn't sure she was talking about her anger or hurt. Maybe she was talking about him. He wanted to ask, but figured it was smart to quit while he was ahead. "Great." He reached for the files he'd brought with him. They needed to get to neutral ground. Somewhere safe. "I found out some stuff today."

  She sat up straight, and for the first time since he'd arrived, he saw real emotion in her eyes. Not for him, though. The interest and anticipation were for her sister's case. "Yeah?"

  He wanted it to be for him.

  And that was scary as hell. So he focused on the case. On the facts.

  He was good at that.

  He told her about the plumber he'd seen going into her building when they'd arrived yesterday. "Seemed kind of funny that a burglary was discovered right afterward. So I did some checking. Michael's Plumbing doesn't exist. The phone number was for a phone sex website. The license plate on the van was registered to a house painter from the western suburbs. I checked, and the plates on that guy's van weren't his. They were registered to a car that's been scrapped."

  Two tiny lines appeared between her eyes. "What made you write down the license plate and phone number?"


  He shrugged one shoulder. "Something about the guy caught my attention. Not sure why. Gut feeling, I guess. But I'm glad I did."

  Raine studied him. "You think the guy is Peter, don't you?"

  He stared at her. "How did you know?"

  "Maybe I'm figuring out how you think."

  Her words made him feel lighter than they should have. But when he looked down at the scribbled notes in his folder, his stomach churned with dread. "Yeah. I think it's Northrup."

  He was escalating. Bringing the fight to Raine. And Connor was scared as hell. "He's a smart guy. All these petty burglaries at your building are setting up his scenario. Your lock will be jimmied, your apartment will be trashed, stuff will be missing and you'll be dead on the floor. A victim of the guy breaking into apartments in this building. Why would anyone connect that to Northrup? End result? The only person who thinks he killed Genie will be dead, and he's off the hook."

  She shivered. "I'll get a better lock."

  "I'll do it for you. I know about locks."

  He'd stick close to her, as well. Every night, one way or another.

  And he could admit, if only to himself, that it wasn't just to protect her.

  ***

  Several hours later, Connor shook his head. "No. You are not looking at the crime scene photos again."

  "Something was off," Raine insisted. "I need to see them to figure out what it was." She ran her fingers through her hair again, making the blond spikes stand straight up. He wanted to feel the softness against his own hands. Inhale its sharp, citrusy scent.

  "Forget it," he said, dragging his mind back to their conversation. "I'm not showing you those pictures again." He would never forget the devastation on her face last night. The way she'd been crouched over the toilet. Her silent tears. Raine was tough, but no one was that tough. "Are you out of your mind?"

  "You think I want to see those pictures again?" Her expression was desolate. Full of dread. "But I need to."

  "I don't even have them with me," he said. Thank God he'd left them in his desk. But his curiosity got the better of him. "What did you think you saw?"

  "I don't know." She shoved her hands through her hair and tugged. "But I might if I could see the pictures."

  "Not happening."

  She flopped against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. "I'm going to bed. Maybe I'll figure it out while I sleep."

  She stood up and headed for her bedroom, her hips swaying. He wanted to follow her. But he wasn't sure he was invited. Maybe she wanted him to leave.

  At her bedroom door, she glanced over her shoulder. "You coming, Donovan?"

  She hadn't called him Connor all night, he realized with a flicker of sadness. But he stood up. "Didn't know whether I was invited or not."

  "Thought we already settled that. Fun, remember?"

  He was beginning to hate that word. "Yeah. Right. Fun."

  Last night, her eyes had been soft. Full of anticipation. Hope.

  Tonight, her gaze was cool. Assessing. Like she didn't care if he stayed or left.

  His heart squeezed as he followed her.

  By the time he reached her bedroom, she was already in the bathroom. He stood in the middle of the room, ridiculously nervous, unsure of what to do. Finally, calling himself an idiot, he took off his jeans and dress shirt. Feeling vulnerable in his boxers and tee shirt, he waited for her to emerge from the bathroom.

  When she came out, she said, "The extra toothbrush is on the sink."

  Would it have killed her to say 'his' toothbrush? "Thanks."

  When he emerged from the bathroom, she was already in bed. The soft glow from the lamp on her night stand turned her skin to gold and her eyes into deep, dark pools. He wanted to re-wind the past twenty-four hours and erase what had happened that morning. He wanted the intimacy they'd shared the night before.

  Sliding into bed next to Raine, he curled his hand around her shoulders and tugged her against him. "Are we good?" he whispered into her ear.

  "Course we are," she murmured into his neck. "I'm always up for a good time."

  A good time. Was that all this was?

  Was that what Raine wanted.

  He wanted to feel her skin beneath his fingers. He tugged her closer and ran his hand down her back, touching each bump of her spine. "You're naked," he murmured.

  She rolled over, moving his hand off her back. "Why aren't you?" She stripped the tee shirt over his head, yanked his boxers off and flung them to the side. Her fingers danced over his abdomen, barely touching his skin, and she fastened her mouth to his. Sucked at his tongue.

  His cock swelled. Thank God it knew what to do. He wanted to slow down, to savor like the night before. But Raine was having none of it. She slid her hand down his abdomen and curled her fingers around his cock.

  Not like last night. Last night, she'd explored. Drove him out of his mind with her soft caresses.

  Tonight, she squeezed. Like she wanted to get him hot as fast as possible. Get it over with.

  Where had that thought come from?

  From him. From Raine. From the way they were tonight. Unconnected. Meaningless. Everything was mechanical – her kisses, the way she touched him, the way she slid her body over him. Like they were putting together a piece of furniture from Ikea – all the pieces were there, the instructions were understandable, you just worked until it was done.

  He wanted last night back. So he cupped her ass with both hands and whispered, "You feel so good. So soft."

  "Mmmmm."

  She wasn't making the right sounds. Last night they were tiny moans. Gasps. Stuttering breaths. Tonight, all the sounds she made felt forced.

  She reached for him again and curled cold fingers around his penis, and he flinched. "You're definitely not soft."

  Off-balance, he fumbled for her mouth. Her lips were cold, too. Rough. When he slid his hand down and touched her, she shivered in his arms. "Yes," she whispered. "Do that again."

  He plunged his tongue into her mouth and his fingers inside her. She made another tiny sound and moved against his hand. His erection began to fade, so he lifted her on top of his body. Their mouths still attached, she took him inside her and began to move.

  Before long, they were both panting. Her eyes were closed, her palms flat on the bed. Last night, she'd looked at him as she'd come. Touching him.

  He thrust harder, suddenly desperate to get this over with. Finally, Raine tensed around him, then came with a guttural cry. Moments later he let himself follow her over.

  She lay on his chest, panting. He stared at the ceiling and swallowed. How could something as intimate as sex be so mechanical? So unconnected?

  He might as well have been jerking off in the shower.

  When her breathing slowed, she disentangled herself from him. She stretched out on the bed, her back to him, not quite touching. Every once in a while, her breath hitched.

  He slid out of the bed, collected his clothes from the floor and stepped into the living room. Away from that bed. Out of sight of the woman he suspected was crying.

  He threw on his clothes, checked his pockets for his phone and wallet, and opened the front door.

  Damn it. He couldn't leave. Northrup was targeting Raine. He needed to stay. Just in case.

  He closed the door quietly and headed for the couch. The light from the courtyard shone in the window, and he listened to the murmur of voices below him. People returning from dates. From dinner. Happy sounds. Like they'd had a good time tonight.

  Like they'd had fun.

  He swallowed and closed his eyes. Tonight he and Raine had had fun, too.

  And all he wanted to do was run away.

  Chapter 22

  Raine woke up the next morning to the warmth of sunlight on her face. But the bed next to her was cold. Empty.

  Connor had left last night. As she'd lain rigid and still, trying not to cry, he'd slid away from her. Gotten out of bed and put on his clothes. Moments later, her door had opened, then
clicked shut. Her heart still ached with the dull, hollow finality of it.

  The only thing left of him was the impression of his head on the other pillow.

  She punched the pillow back into shape, then smoothed it until it was perfectly plumped. Even and untouched. Then she flopped onto her back and studied the dust motes dancing in the sunlight.

  She should have known that the whole 'have fun while they worked on Genie's case and then say goodbye' thing was a mistake. She'd never done casual sex before. Didn't want to do it with Connor.

  After that awful, soulless sex, she wasn't sure she could have faced Connor this morning.

  She didn't have to worry about it, though. He'd walked out last night. So she didn't have to put on the cheery, casual front this morning before she ushered him out the door and locked it against him.

  Maybe he hadn't wanted to face her, either.

  She threw back the sheet and the scent of him on her skin rolled over her. She closed her eyes, choking back the tears. Shower. She needed to clean the memory of that cold sex from her mind.

  Once in the bathroom, she turned the water on scalding hot. Scrubbed until her skin was red. By the time she stepped out of the bathtub, all she could smell was her own shampoo. Nothing of last night.

  She needed to get away from this apartment. Keep those memories at bay. She'd start at the dojo, then she'd go to...

  Shit. Today was her grandmother's party.

  She closed her eyes and clung to the sink as her stomach twisted into a pretzel. That damn party was the last thing she wanted to do today.

  But she'd go anyway. For Genie. To remind her grandmother that the son-in-law she'd thought so perfect had murdered her sister.

  She straightened and reached for her toothbrush. As she cleaned her teeth, she turned from side to side, assessing her face in the mirror. There was still swelling around her eye, but the worst of the purple and black bruising was fading, replaced by sickly yellow and green.

  Makeup could cover it. Mostly. And she'd arrange her hair to hide the stitches at her temple.

  She didn't want her grandmother to see the bruising – she'd raise her eyebrows and give Raine that looked she'd seen too many times before. Disapproval. Censure. And the slight curl of her lip that said in a fight, Raine? It's exactly what I expected from you with your working-class father.