He was laughing at her as he crawled up her frame, shedding the remainder of his clothes en route.
“I’ll get you for that,” she promised with a smile.
“Promises, promises.”
Yet before she could make good on her words, Rick anchored himself between her lax legs and pushed himself home. So warm, so perfect. She wrapped her legs around him and took all he had to give.
She tasted herself on his lips. His kiss mimicked his hips.
He hesitated and looked down at her with concern. “Condom,” he said. “I didn’t—”
When he started to pull away, she held him tighter. “I’m on the pill. Last checkup was all good.”
“I’m good, but are you sure?”
She answered by pushing her hips closer. Sex without condoms wasn’t something she ever did. But making love to Rick without one . . . that felt perfectly right. “Too much talking,” she whispered. “Not enough moving.”
He laughed, rolled her around on the bed until she straddled him. When the bed squeaked they both froze and stared at the door.
She giggled and Rick moved her back under him, sealed his lips to hers and made love to her so slowly, so silently, and so completely, she heard angels sing.
Judy rolled over to find Rick missing from her bed. The clock at the bedside blinked five in the morning. With a smile on her face, she slipped into a bathrobe and found Rick huddled over her tablet with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Hey.”
She slid her arm around his shoulders, loved how easily they fit together. His morning kiss brought a blush to her cheeks. “Good morning.” He nodded toward the steaming coffeepot. “I made coffee.”
“Good in the bedroom and in the kitchen. How did I get so lucky?”
“Don’t ask me to actually cook anything.”
“Don’t blow my illusion.” She poured a cup, mixed it to her liking, and let the first taste slide down her throat with a moan.
She caught him staring at her and smiled. “What?”
He licked his lips with a look of hunger.
The female in her wanted to purr. His hunger wasn’t for coffee, and she knew it. “You’re bad.”
“I like your moans. Missed them last night.”
But he’d been right about the intensity of their joining without making any noise. “I think we’ll have an opportunity to moan again.”
He fidgeted in the chair and directed his attention to her tablet. The game she played was on display. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to see if there are any clues here. Any patterns.”
She moved to sit in his lap, and tapped the screen, collecting money from her virtual buildings. “Find anything?”
“Not really. This guy raided you a few times in the last couple of days, but then so did this woman.”
“It’s part of the game. Once you find a weak player, you tend to go back to them over and over to increase your stats. It’s nothing personal.”
“It is if the guy behind all this is playing this game. You said yourself there are diehards on here.”
She sipped her coffee and pressed revenge button over the players that hit her in the night. “Well let’s see if we can provoke a response off these people.” She bombed a few defensive buildings, making the player weaker, and then raided a building or two, stealing their virtual money.
“What are you doing?”
Judy explained her strategy and repeated it with two more players. “If they’re diehards, they’ll come back hitting. If they don’t care, they’ll just stay away.”
“And if they’re our guy, they might just try and wipe out your base?”
She shivered. “It’s a game. You can’t wipe out a base. But yeah, you can have a bully on the game. Eventually they get bored and move on.”
“Or they hunt down the player in real life and hurt them.” He squeezed her waist. “There are crazy people out there.”
She knew that now. Wouldn’t look at the game the same way again. If it wasn’t the only link they had to a possible suspect, she’d delete the thing now. “Any activity on my Facebook page?”
“Nothing. A few friends left comments about your red dress.”
She smiled.
“Love that dress.” He nuzzled her neck.
She pushed him away when her dad walked in the room and cleared his throat.
“I can take the morning off . . . drive you to the airport,” Judy told her father after she showered and readied herself for another day.
Rick was in their room, giving her time to talk to her dad alone.
“I rented a car,” Sawyer said, looking past her and down the hall.
“Still . . .”
He blew out a long-suffering breath and turned his gaze toward her.
He looked miserable.
“I’m sorry I’m disappointing you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t like some of the choices you’re making, but I’m not disappointed.”
“You look like you are.”
Her dad attempted a smile, sucked at it, and let the facade drop.
Judy found herself smiling.
“I like Rick,” he said. “I’d like him more if he’d told me his intentions.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one he talks about his intentions with?”
Her words wiggled into her father’s brain. “I suppose.”
Judy stepped closer to her dad. “I know you’re worried about me. But I’m OK. I really am.”
He nodded and opened his arms.
She hugged her dad and heard him sigh. “You need me . . . day or night.”
Emotion sat in the back of her throat. “I know.”
Sawyer kissed the top of her head and let her go. “You go . . . I’ll lock up when I leave.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too, baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rick sat across from Dean and Neil, their collective heads huddled in an effort to find a thread between Judy’s war game pastime and the guy stalking her.
Her office had been quiet, no sign of anyone entering her space and leaving any gifts for her to stumble upon. There hadn’t been any headlines of attacks . . . no evidence the police were even watching Rick.
Quiet. Too damn quiet.
“Something is here,” Dean said under his breath. He had Judy’s Facebook open and spent a painful amount of time tracking her friends and searching for links. Neil was working through the online game as a player and attempting to find the real names behind a few gamers.
“I think so, too,” Rick said.
“Maybe the guy backed off the game. Deleted his profile.” Neil typed with two fingers, then switched to a computer and continued the two-finger search.
“Doesn’t fit the profile,” Dean told them. “He’s going to want to watch the fallout.”
Rick sat back from the pictures of the crowd collected by Russell and Dennis at the courthouse and compared them to the shots of the gathering of people outside the garage when word got out about the initial attack. He then compared them with those collected outside the scene from the murder. They’d collected a handful of hours of news coverage, which Rick was going through one frame at a time. Life as a Marine was easier. Identify your target, point, and shoot. Next! “I’d never cut it as a detective,” he said.
“Well shit!” Neil’s voice rose with excitement, something seldom heard from the large man.
“What?” Rick inched the wheels of his chair closer to Neil’s to see what he was well shitting about.
“What’s this?” Neil pointed at the tablet with the game opened on a profile of a team member.
“A joke?” The profile name read Major Harry Dog. To give Harry some credit, many of the profile names were plagiarized off real people from General Grant to Hitler. Other names were obvious jokes, Dare Devil, Betty the Baker, Mominator, Lord of my Rings . . . the list went on for thousands. The list of those playing alongside Judy was limited to about sixty.
Then there was the list of those beating her on the game and staying in her cache, which increased the list by several hundred.
“Read this and tell me what you think about the person behind it.” Neil sat back while Rick and Dean inched in.
Rick glanced at the profile, saw a man in desert camo with a hard hat on the cartoon character. The nation’s flag was Britain. From the amount of missions completed and fights won, the man had been playing for some time. “A man from somewhere in Europe who obviously doesn’t have much of a social life if he spends this much time online.”
Neil moved forward and opened another chat screen. “Not only is Major Harry not a man, she is in the States. My guess would be East Coast.”
The times Major Harry was chatting online with fellow players were in line with the East Coast, cutting off at night saying she needed to catch the evening news. Neil scrolled up the page and highlighted a post. Sorry I missed the battle, team . . . left my phone in my purse and didn’t charge.
Rick scratched at the hair on his chin, his brain swimming with the information. “So she is playing as a he.”
“And if a she is playing a he . . .”
“Then he could be playing a she.” Neil met Rick’s gaze.
Dean let loose a growl. “Well hell!”
They were all back to square one.
“We should have thought about that,” Rick said. At least he knew he was looking for a picture of a man.
She was still at work. Only came home with the new fuck and didn’t appear worried in the least with her daily routine. She’d even been back on the game, bombing, raiding, and chatting on the loop. Just like nothing had happened.
When a notice came that he’d been attacked by her on his main profile, something inside him threatened to snap. How dare she?
He pinned up the picture he’d taken that afternoon when she went to lunch with her work friends and carefully sliced up the image of her arm. She might wear long sleeves or jackets to hide the scar, but he knew it was there.
They both knew it was there.
The knife in his hand carved the cheap wallpaper behind the picture, shredding it.
The image of her beyond the knife kept him carving. The parking garage had been too brief. Too fucking brief. To feel her tremble . . . feel her fear . . . yeah, that he wanted.
Next time she wouldn’t get away.
And he’d have her all to himself.
“Mike!” Judy threw her arms around her brother and let him lift her in a huge hug.
“I thought I’d surprise you.”
Her brother walking into the office building didn’t make quite the same splash it had the first time. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers, his Hollywood smile framed his face with perfection.
She leaned back, glanced at the roses. “What are those for?”
“I missed the wedding.”
She grinned, took the flowers from him.
He leaned in, placed his lips next to hers. “Rick said you needed fresh flowers to hide the camera.”
Apparently, her temporary husband had already briefed her brother. It had been well over a week since the floral delivery and nothing had happened. Nothing. Housekeepers did their job . . . her colleagues would leave the occasional to-do list on her desk, otherwise nothing.
Judy glanced around Mike, didn’t see anyone lurking, and motioned for him to stand in the doorway.
She turned away and removed the stick holding the camera from the flowers Rick had given her and transferred it to the new bouquet. While she handed the old flowers to her brother, the cell phone on her desk buzzed.
Rick’s message was to the point. Toward the door.
Judy angled the disguised camera toward the opening of her cubicle and waited.
The next message from Rick was a smiley face.
Mike offered a wink when she finished. “So where am I taking you to lunch?”
Five minutes later they were sitting in the café they’d managed a meal in the last time he’d come to her work.
“I heard Dad showed up . . . alone.” Mike broke off a piece of bread and shoved it in his mouth while he talked. Nothing like talking with your mouth full to prove you’re family.
Judy rolled her eyes. “It took him a year to send Zach to check on your marriage. I’m married a few days and poof! Here’s Dad.”
“I’m a guy.” Mike washed down the bread with the bottled water he’d ordered and shoved another chunk in.
“Like that matters. Whatever. Rick must have said something to make him happy. He left the next day.”
“Maybe Mom called . . . talked some sense into him.”
Judy sipped her iced tea. “Yeah, maybe.”
Their meals came and she started in on her salad, while picking fries off Mike’s plate.
He managed a few bites before bringing the conversation to her. “How are you really doing?”
Talking to Mike had always been like talking to an older sister. He was so much more approachable than Zach, and younger than Rena . . . wiser than Hannah. They had a great family, and if given the chance, she’d pour her heart out to all of them . . . but Mike always seemed to have a sensitive ear. Now that he was back in her life, she remembered that fact and let her tongue loosen up.
“I look over my shoulder a lot.”
Mike paused between bites.
“It doesn’t keep me from working, doing what needs to be done. But I question anyone I don’t know when they walk up to me.”
“I guess that’s normal.”
“Yeah . . .” She set her fork down. “Rick has been amazing. I thought he’d get tired of driving me around, checking in with me almost every hour.”
Mike lifted an eyebrow, popped a fry in his mouth. “Karen told me he was into you before our divorce.”
“Karen’s a wise woman.”
Mike nodded with a laugh. “She told me about your marriage.” He looked around them, bringing her eyes up as well. Seemed no one was close enough to hear their conversation. “Think things will last once everything settles down?”
The night before flashed in her head . . . the way Rick had made love to her, made her feel like she was the only woman in the world. “I don’t know, Mike. It’s not like either of us planned this. We’ve been pushed together like something out of one of your movies.”
His plate clean, Mike pushed it away, sat back, and leveled his eyes to hers. “You know he loves you . . . right?”
The words from her brother made her draw in a sharp breath. “I know he cares.”
Mike smiled, lowered his dark sunglasses over his eyes, and tossed a few bills on the table. “Well, sis . . . let’s get you back to work.”
He walked her back to her office, kissed her cheek, and told her he’d see her at home.
For the next hour and a half, she thought about her brother’s words . . . his observations.
She couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading over her skin when she thought maybe Mike saw something from Rick that he hadn’t yet shared with her. Was it possible with all the chaos to fall in love with the right man?
Shaking her head out of the fog left in her brain from her brother, she spread the plans to the Santa Barbara project on her desk. José had left for the last half of the day, and her to-do list had dwindled to nearly nothing on a Friday.
“Miss Gardner?”
Deep in thought, she was startled by the sound of her name. Mitch, a courier who frequented the office, stood in the doorway to her cubicle chewing gum. “Hey, Mitch.”
“I have a delivery for Mr. Archer.”
Judy stood and reached for the package in his hand. “He’s gone today. I’ll take it for him.”
Mitch handed her the package. A bandage on his left hand caught her eyes. “What happened?”
He glanced at his hand like it didn’t belong to him, and hid it behind his back. “Accident.”
Mitch was probably her age . . . maybe a little younger, and shyer t
han the average guy. He was taller than she was and could stand to lose a few pounds.
Walking around him, she offered a smile. “Need me to sign?”
“I have another quick delivery.” He waved a package in his hand. “I’ll come by on my way out.”
Judy watched him walk away, and walked into Steve’s office to set the package down.
She hesitated inside for less than a minute. A loud noise accompanied by the building shaking made her grasp the desk.
The door behind her slammed shut right as the fire alarms started to scream and the lights in the room started to flash.
Earthquake?
Only the room wasn’t shaking. It was screaming, and flashing, and outside the door to Mr. Archer’s office, she heard people running.
The deafening sound of the alarm made it nearly impossible to think.
Judy rushed to the door, fumbled with the handle, and found it unmoving.
She hit her fist against the door, heard people rushing by. “Hey!”
Someone beyond the barrier yelled the word fire and panic made her pull on the door harder.
Rick really enjoyed Michael’s company. After being with Judy for even a short time, he started to see the man and not the Hollywood movie star he’d grown to know since working with Neil. Judy’s conversations about her brother before he happened upon the Hollywood scene simply made the man more human.
“Thanks for taking her the flowers,” Rick said when Michael walked into the den where he was going over the short list of players from Judy’s game that hadn’t yet been cleared. Dean had returned to his office and was in the process of soliciting his superiors to investigate the possibility that a murderer lurked beyond the graphics of an online game.
The chances of the detective getting anywhere with his colleagues were slim, but then again, he was on damn near family terms with the governor of the state and his wife. If anyone could get Detectives Raskin and Perozo to start looking somewhere other than in Rick’s direction, it would be Dean and the Billings.
“No problem,” Michael told him. “She looks good.”
Taken by Tuesday (Weekday Brides Series) Page 23