She reached up and caught her hair in her hand, trapping it in a loose tail. Reilly edged closer, angling his head down to talk to the woman. There was something intimate between them—a connection, Remy realized.
Okay. Now his mouth was dry, and he was feeling oddly … jealous.
Scowling, he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. He didn’t have time for this shit.
He had to be in court on Monday and there was way too much work to be done still.
Halfway to his car, he damn near collided with Dwight Nielson. The sheriff looked tired, distracted. Worried.
He looked like he had aged ten years overnight.
With a sinking sensation in his gut, Remy plastered a fake smile on his face. This better not be about Hamilton. Even as he thought it, logic tried to step in. Can’t be. You would have been called.
Remy just couldn’t think of too many things that would put that look on the sheriff’s face, though. The man was pissed off, running on fumes and emotion. But if anything major had happened, Remy would have heard about it through the gossip grapevine. Hamilton was the only big thing going on right now.
“You look like you had a rough night.”
Nielson glanced at him. The faint twitch of his lips didn’t even pass for a smile. “Rough doesn’t even describe it.”
A car rumbled past and out of habit, when Nielson glanced at it, Remy did the same. He saw Lena and caught a glimpse of the dark hair of the mystery lady in the backseat.
Who was she?
Hooked up with Reilly somehow? In for disappointment there, sweetheart. He’s stuck on a woman who doesn’t realize he’s got a dick.
Law Reilly wasn’t ever going to stop mooning over Lena.
Shoving those thoughts aside, he looked back at Nielson, only to find the sheriff tracking the car’s path with his eyes until it disappeared around the bend of the road. The dark look in the man’s eyes suddenly had Remy’s instincts swinging into full alert.
“So … what’s going on?”
Nielson’s gaze slanted his way. “Meaning …?”
“Well, you look like shit. You’re looking at Lena Riddle like she’s a key witness.” Remy angled his head and counted the patrol cars in front of the municipal building. “And I’d say you’ve called in every part-time deputy you can get your hands on.”
Blowing out a sigh, Nielson slicked a hand back over his bald scalp.
“Shit. This is going to hit the fan in the next little while or so anyway.”
“WE CAN’T KEEP THIS UP. SOONER OR LATER, WE’RE going to screw up.”
The voices—he should know those voices.
“We got a good thing going here. One more big shipment, Mac. Then we’re done. One more go-round.”
A low, tired sigh, followed by a rough, husky chuckle. “Yeah, one more, my ass.”
A storm of memories assaulted him as he stood in the shadows. Walking down the street, side by side with his partner.
“Come on, Mac. One more. We can hit one more.”
“Yeah, one more, my ass, pretty boy. You’re buying me dinner.”
Mac. It was Mac.
The gun … where had his gun come from?
Ezra found himself staring at it, appalled.
What in the hell was he supposed to do with it?
But he knew. Looking up, he found himself face-to-face with Mac. Found himself watching—like it was a live feed or something—watching as he pulled the trigger.
There was a scream.
Blood—explosions of it. It painted the entire world red as he watched, and screams, hers, his, echoed through the air. Ezra rushed to Mac’s side, but then everything changed on him and it wasn’t a city alley any longer.
It was the woods—night dark and thick with underbrush that grabbed at him, tripped him up. When he fell, he landed in a puddle of blood.
Her blood.
Lena’s blood.
Lena’s face shifted, re-formed … and it was the woman. The woman found at Law’s, her battered, ruined face staring lifelessly up at the sky.
He dreamed, knew he dreamed, but he couldn’t make himself wake up.
Even as the woman morphed from the dead woman to his lover to his partner, over and over in an unending circle, he was helpless, trapped, unable to stop it, unable to change it—
“Damn it, wake up!”
Breath ripping out of him in sobs, Ezra tore out of the dream and sat up, staring at the pale oval of Lena’s face.
“Shit. Fuck.”
A cold, nasty sweat drenched him, and he fought his way out of the blankets, stumbled over to the doorway, hit the light switch. Lena sat in the bed, staring in his direction, her sightless eyes huge and frightened. She had the sheet clutched between her bare breasts, her hand balled up into a fist.
“Are you okay?”
“Bad dream,” he said, his voice rusty. He leaned against the wall, rubbing at the knotted muscles in his leg.
“Bad dream?” she echoed. She gave him a faint smile. “Ezra, when I dream about waking up naked in front of my high school English class while giving a report on women’s rights, that is a bad dream. What you were having … I don’t think bad dream describes it.”
She held out a hand. “Come back to bed?”
He didn’t want to. He was shaking, like a leaf, he realized, and half sick. But at the sight of her slender hand, reaching out to him … well, walking away was one thing he just couldn’t do.
Swallowing against the tightness in his throat, he walked stiffly over to the bed and sank down on it. Lena shifted around and when he lay down, she guided his head to her lap. “Your leg is bothering you,” she said quietly.
Ezra didn’t answer. Mind over matter. Psychobabble shit. If he ignored the leg, didn’t think about the dreams …
“Tell me what you were dreaming about,” she said softly, combing a hand through his hair.
No.
That was the last thing he wanted to do.
No. No.
“Was it your partner? Mac?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
She stroked a hand down his arm. “I know you probably can’t tell me. But if you ever need to … I’ll listen,” she murmured.
“I shouldn’t tell you,” he said. He really, really shouldn’t.
But five seconds later, it started to rip out of him, a nasty, vile spew of poison. Like a river breaking free of a dam, he couldn’t keep the words trapped inside him, not for another five seconds.
Lena was silent the entire time, doing nothing but listening and stroking those long, slender fingers through his hair. When he finally fell silent, her hand stilled and he caught hold of it, brought it to his lips.
“It’s really no wonder you don’t know if you want to go back,” she mused. “Must be hell when you don’t know if you can trust that the good guys really are the good guys, huh?”
“There’s always going to be dirty cops,” Ezra said roughly. “Always. But I … I never thought I’d be so easily suckered in. Shit. And if she …” A dull, hot flush crept up to stain his cheeks red as he said, “If it turns out the reason she was sleeping with me wasn’t because of me, but because of what she was doing …”
“Then it has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with her,” Lena said. “Ezra, she’s the one who screwed up. She was dirty, and maybe she was using you, maybe she wasn’t. But that doesn’t change who you are.”
“Maybe it does—shouldn’t I have been able to see it? Shouldn’t I have seen her?”
“I didn’t know you then, but I’d say you were probably a pretty good cop. She was just a better actress. She was the one who messed things up, baby. You can’t bear her sins.”
“Can’t I?” Rolling to his back, he stared up at the ceiling. “Maybe if I’d seen it sooner, maybe if I’d looked, we could have taken her down a better way, she’d still be alive.”
“And if she hadn’t pulled her gun on you, would you have shot her?�
�
“Hell, no.”
“Okay, then.” Lena bent down, curling her body in until she could press her lips to his. “Her sins, her flaws, her mistakes. Not yours, Ezra. Not yours.”
She waited until some of the tension eased before she straightened up. Then she went back to combing her hand through the tumbled, shaggy strands of his hair. “You have these nightmares a lot?”
“Off and on.” He shifted in the bed, pulling away, but before she could be disappointed, he settled down next to her, sitting side by side, echoing her position with his back braced against the headboard. “They usually don’t get this bad anymore, though.”
“I’m glad.” She grabbed one of the blankets and drew it up, snuggling into his body, hoping the heat of her body might warm his. He felt so cold. His nightmare … she wasn’t going to tell him, but it had just about broken her heart. He’d sounded … broken.
Ezra wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Tucking her head under his chin, she sighed.
“The girl at Law’s … seeing her body, I think it screwed some things in my head up. Hell, even touching the gun. It’s a problem for me—part of why I can’t go back right now. I can’t even think about picking up my gun without having … well … issues.” He laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. It was dry, dark, and ugly. “Issues. Fuck.”
“Ezra, everybody has issues from time to time.” She caught his hand, lifted it to her lips. “Tell me about the dream.”
“It’s always been pretty much the same, but it was changing around on me this time. Kept changing from Mac to that girl … to you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” He wiped his hand over his mouth, wished he could do something about the knot of nausea that still gripped his gut.
Two seconds later, Lena was on her knees, straddling his lap. She had her fingers wrapped around his wrists, guiding them to her breasts. “Well, you can stop thinking about the dream, then. Think about me. I’m here and I’m fine,” she said. “See?”
Resting his head on the headboard, he murmured, “You trying to distract me, Lena?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. I think it could work.” Lowering his gaze to her chest, he stared at the way her flesh gleamed pale as ivory against his darker, rough hands. Her nipples were pink, stabbing into his fingers when he pinched them lightly.
As he slid a hand down her torso, she arched her back, a graceful bow.
Ezra’s mouth went dry.
Pressing his lips to her torso, he rolled forward, pushing her to her back and sprawling between her thighs. “I want you,” he whispered, kissing a hot, burning line down the length of her body. “Fuck, do I want you.”
The dark red curls shielding her sex were already damp, already gleaming.
He parted her with his tongue and groaned against her. The taste of her exploded through him and he shifted, grabbing one of her knees and pushing it up, opening her folds wider. Then he pressed his mouth more firmly against her and thrust his tongue inside her.
Her strangled cry bounced off the walls.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, rocking against him, greedy and desperate, driving him on.
Whatever remnants of the dream might have lingered faded away as she came apart for him, crying out his name. When she reached for him and he moved up her body into her open arms, he could think of nothing but Lena, could see nothing but her.
With hands that shook, he grabbed a condom from the bedside table and put it on. Tucking the head of his cock against her swollen entrance, he slanted his mouth over hers. As he sank inside her slick, wet heat, he claimed her mouth as well.
Lena caught his tongue between her teeth, nipping him, sucking on him, driving him to the edge of sanity. Her short, neat nails raked down his back, leaving little trails of fire.
The satin-slicked walls of her sheath clenched him, gripped him rhythmically, milking him … pulling him in.
Losing myself, he thought. He could lose himself in her. In the sweetness of her body, in the warmth of her smile … in her arms. All of her. He could lose himself in her, happily, leave the nightmares behind, forget about the world outside the house.
Forget about everything but her …
Cupping one breast in his hand, he pushed it up and closed his teeth around the tip of one swollen pink nipple. She whimpered and arched closer, pressing herself more firmly against him.
“Ezra,” she whispered.
Fuck, he loved the way she said his name.
Swearing, he released her breast and lifted his head, slanted his mouth over hers. “Say it again,” he muttered against her lips. “Say my name again.”
She smiled. “Ezra …”
Stroking her fingers through his hair, she fisted her hand in the strands and tugged his head. With that feline, female smile on her lips, she twisted her hips against his and said, “Make love to me, Ezra.”
He cupped her hip in his hand, tucked her close. “I could die happy doing just that.”
Doing just this …
He rode her, keeping the pace lazy, slow, though the need building inside was dark, bordering on dangerous. He wanted to watch that lazy smile turn into slow and easy pleasure, wanted to see it bloom on her face, lift her slowly.
It was sweet, somehow, Lena realized. Sweet, gentle … and healing, maybe.
When he shuddered against her, she wrapped her arms around him. When the need burned too bright and too strong to be ignored, she locked her legs around his hips and rose to meet each thrust. With one hand resting on his heart, the other gripping at the ridge of muscle atop his shoulder, she clung to him.
As the orgasm broke over them, she cried out his name.
Her name was a sigh on his lips as he eased back down.
With his head resting on her breasts, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.
He didn’t rest for a long time.
Until she felt the tension ease from his body, she didn’t let herself seek sleep, either.
No more nightmares, she thought. Not tonight.
He could hear them in there, through the crack in her window.
Grunting. Fucking like animals.
He wished her room wasn’t on the second floor.
He thought he’d like to watch her. Wondered what she’d look like naked.
Maybe he’d find out one day. Soon.
But for now, he needed to back away.
It was nearly four A.M. and that meant one of the cruisers would be coming around on one of their routine drive-bys. Routine for the past few weeks, ever since the week after Lena Riddle had reported the screams.
“You’re not serious.”
He could have misheard her. After all, it had been a rough few days.
The nightmare might as well have been a harbinger. The past few days had been full of tension and dark, ugly memories. Ezra had too much emotional upheaval … shit, listen to me. Did I trade in my dick or what?
Get it together, he told himself. He’d been off balance for the past few days and it wasn’t getting any easier, either.
Partly because of the dreams, partly because of everything that was going on, partly because of Lena, and partly because of the mess inside him.
He couldn’t think about that now. He needed to focus on Lena.
Raking his fingers through his hair, Ezra peered at her, tried to see if maybe she was joking. But she looked pretty serious.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me well enough.”
“No. Because what I heard you say was that you’re going in to work. And that just doesn’t seem right.”
With an easy shrug, Lena said, “I don’t see why not. After all, I do have a job. It is Thursday. That’s my normal workday.”
How could she sound so fucking normal? How could she be serious?
She couldn’t be serious. Going to work? How in the hell could he keep an eye on her if she was at work?
What if the bastard was somebody
she worked with?
In his gut, Ezra knew it was somebody who was at least familiar with the town. Had to be. The screaming Lena heard, the dead woman, it was all related. He knew it.
Dumping the body on Law’s property—hell, it had just been dumb luck that Law hadn’t been in town when it had happened. Sheer, dumb luck.
Whoever had killed that woman knew this town, probably even knew Lena, probably knew Law. Might even know Ezra, although he didn’t know all that many people yet.
And Lena wanted to go to work?
What if …
Scrap that thought, he warned himself. He was already walking a hair trigger right now, on too little sleep and stress. Plus, seeing the woman’s lifeless body had stirred up all those bad memories Ezra was still fighting.
He was on edge and he knew it. Certain images in his head? He did not need them at the moment.
“You seriously want to go to work,” he said slowly.
“It’s Thursday,” Lena repeated. “I work on Thursdays. Unless I’m sick or the Inn isn’t open. I’m not sick and the Inn is open. That means … I’m working.”
“Have you forgotten what happened?”
Her smooth, ivory complexion seemed to pale a shade or two, but if he thought that might change her mind, he thought wrong.
“No. I haven’t forgotten. As much as I might wish to. It’s not something I’m ever going to forget.” She skimmed her fingers through her hair, a tired sigh escaping her. “But I’m not going to let one tragic accident stop me from living my life. Ezra, I can’t. I’ve worked too hard to build a life. I’m not letting some psycho take it away.”
“And what if he tries to do just that?” Ezra asked. “What if he decides to try to come after you, Lena? Answer me that. What if he decides you’re next?”
Lena’s lips narrowed into a thin, tight line. Without saying anything else, she turned and moved into the living room. “You know, I’ve already thought of all that shit, hotshot,” she said as he followed her. “Besides, we don’t even know if any of this is related, for crying out loud.”
“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” Ezra snarled. “You know damn well it’s related.”
“No. I think it probably is. That doesn’t mean it is.”
Bracing a shoulder against the door, he jammed his fists into the front pockets of his jeans. “Then why are you so willing to take the risk?”
If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense Page 24