Her cheeks were red, her mouth pouting. Her eyelids dipped and rose with his movements, tiny mewls of pleasure escaping as their bodies writhed together. “The bed,” she gasped.
He shook his head and tunneled deeper, not wanting to pause the drugging motions for even a second.
“Please, Sam.”
Christ, he loved to hear her beg. But she wasn’t desperate enough, wasn’t clawing at him, fighting him. Her head bounced back against the wall, and she arched her back, trying to make space between them, trying to deny him.
“Sam, Sam.” Her head lolled, side to side; her lips trembled.
At last, he felt the faint ripples in her channel, and she tightened around him.
He bit her shoulder to halt her orgasm, backed away from the wall, and turned toward the bed. Then with an arm wrapped tightly around her, he crawled onto the mattress, all the way to the center, before stopping to free his hand. He planted both on either side of her shoulders and glanced down at her heaving chest.
“No,” she moaned, wrapping her legs around him to hold him inside.
But he was stronger. And although he was close to exploding himself, these sexy battles they waged had a purpose. One he was a little too lust-addled to name right this moment.
With an effort, he got his knees beneath him, pushed up, and pulled away, slowly dragging his cock from the haven of her moist, hot depths.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, pinching his skin. “Never took you for mean,” she grumbled, but her eyes sparked with heat.
Sam wrapped his fingers around her forearms and forced her hands from his body. He dragged them above her head, brought them together, holding them in one of his. After giving her one hard kiss, he moved downward, determined that this time, he’d stay in control.
Cait’s legs quivered as she bent her knees and slowly slid up her feet. She let her thighs fall open, knowing the sooner she gave him what he wanted, the sooner she’d get what she needed.
Sam on a mission was the sexiest sight to behold—tanned skin stretched over a burly, powerful frame. She reveled in his strength, in the hard, heavy muscle that so easily overpowered her. And yet, despite his rough handling, he was careful. Maybe not even aware that he was, because she’d seen him in action before, knew the damage he could do when he let go.
While he claimed she pushed him past the brink, he delivered measured punishments, hard thrusts that never left her feeling bruised inside. A clutch of thick fingers that left only the sexy kind of marks, something she loved because afterward, each tiny twinge reminded her of his careful domination.
And although she’d just complained because he’d arrested her orgasm, her body blossomed anew beneath his attentions, pleasure curling tighter and tighter inside her core.
His mouth trailed the edge of her jaw. His tongue laved her neck, the jut of her collarbone, then he moved lower, licking and nipping the sensitive skin of her breasts until he hovered over one engorged nipple.
She gave a husky shout when his teeth closed around the tip, but dug her fingers in his thick, dark hair and pulled, letting him know she wanted him right there.
When his lips latched around the areola, her body stiffened, hips pumping upward but halted by the weight of his torso pinning her to the mattress.
As helpless as a butterfly pinned to a mounting board, she struggled to move and ease the ache pounding between her thighs. “Dammit, Sam.”
“Huh,” he gusted, releasing her nipple to bite his way along her abdomen, the shock of his targeted nips causing her belly to quiver.
When he scooted down her body, he paused, centered, his face just above her sex. His head tilted, and he captured her gaze. Without looking down, he used his thumbs to spread her folds and extended his tongue to lap at her clit.
Cait’s jaw sagged. Small desperate moans clawed their way from her throat as he tortured her with licks and taps that ratcheted her toward a peak she couldn’t escape. “Sam, please,” she groaned.
“Who’s in charge now, sweetheart?”
“You! Oh God, you!”
He dropped his face and stroked through her folds, taking the moisture slipping from inside her. Then fingers entered her, two thick digits, and she pumped shallowly, up and down, needing them deeper, needing him to fill her. Her head thrashed side to side, her body shuddered from shoulder to thigh. As the first wave of pleasure exploded in her core, she opened herself wider and thrust up her breasts.
Then he was on top, somehow instantly inside her, gliding his cock deep into her wet channel, riding the storm he’d created that never ebbed as he drove deeper and deeper.
He paused only a moment to cup her ass and bring her closer, where he jerked and burrowed, his shoulders spread above her, his lips pressing wild kisses against her cheeks, her chin, at last landing on her mouth to smother her cries. Soon, his own muffled shouts echoed against the walls of her small bedroom.
They moved together, and Cait wrapped herself around him, hugging him to her body because he was the answer to every question, the source of every pleasure. Her Sam. Her husband…
At those two words, her eyes widened. She dropped her head to the mattress and watched his face as he continued to shiver, sweat sprouting on his forehead and dripping into his closed eyes. Strained features slowly eased. His eyelids blinked open, and then his gaze found hers.
They shared no smiles. Her eyes were filled, his features blurring. When he softly dropped his full weight upon her, she accepted the burden, breathed out when he inhaled, finding a different rhythm that emphasized the fact that together, like this, they worked.
Cait turned away her face and closed her eyes.
Sam pushed up on his hands and extricated himself, rolling to his back beside her.
Separated, she felt a moment of panic until he reached for her hand and held it inside his.
“We need to talk,” he said softly.
Without looking his way, she nodded. “We do. But can it wait until morning?” Nothing she could do to help Sylvia right now anyway.
“Sure.” He shifted beside her, his hands turning her and spooning their bodies together. She lifted her head and rested it on his upper arm, a solid pillow, an intimacy she missed whenever they slept apart.
“Mornin’, then. But you’re coming to the station. Easier to explain.”
“Sure,” she echoed. Then with his warm breath gusting against her ear, his heavy arm anchoring her against his body, Cait drifted into sleep, held safe inside her love’s arms.
3
Early the next morning, they stopped to pick up Jason on their way to the Criminal Justice Complex. “You both need to hear this,” Sam said, his tone all business. “Saves repeating it.” His steely stare said he didn’t want any secrets kept from him either.
Cait wrinkled her nose, knowing he was scolding her in a not-so-oblique way because she had a habit of holding on to clues until she’d had time to figure out what they meant or whether they were relevant. Something that annoyed him to no end.
Like the knowledge that Sylvia Reyes, a woman he didn’t know about yet, had somehow died the night before. Cait did feel a niggle of guilt for not sharing that fact with Jason last night, but he was used to her ways, having worked side by side since she’d been encouraged to resign from the Memphis PD. And she intended to talk to both Sam and Jason about it, but the drive to the station was too short. Or at least that was her excuse, and she was sticking to it.
Striding down the corridor toward the Homicide Bureau in front of the two most important men in her life, she admitted she’d made a conscious choice to not even consider talking to one other person, someone who might actually make sense of what she’d seen. Soon enough, she’d have to face that prospect. For now, she had enough worries on her mind. Like walking the gauntlet of desks lined up in the murder room. She glanced around the open area, amused by the wary, curious glances from the detectives she received.
The last time she’d been here, she’d been debriefed
regarding the kidnapping and murder case that had kept the city riveted for weeks afterward. Stories of satanic rituals involving mummified women had shouted from the tabloids but had received a gloss of ordinary after Lieutenant Leland Hughes worked some PR magic of his own. A skin-walking demon who’d stolen women to devour as part of a spell to make him immortal was lost. Worthen’s demon became one unhinged perpetrator who’d left booby traps in a vacant house where he’d been “storing” his captives to serve his deviant desires.
Although she and Leland rarely saw eye to eye on anything, she was the first to admit Leland had shown genius worthy of a novel spinning that tale.
“Didn’t even get a chance to miss the place,” she murmured as they trailed inside Leland’s cramped office and closed the door.
The middle-aged curmudgeon sat behind his desk, same bulldog expression, his upper lip curled like he smelled something bad. Must have gotten hold of a slice of Jason’s pizza, she thought, suppressing a smile.
“Glad you all could make it,” he said, but his expression tightened.
Like he didn’t look at all happy to see her.
“Glad to see you’ve recovered,” she said, her voice just as falsely polite.
His eyes narrowed as he flashed her a tight smile.
At the sight, she nearly choked with laughter. His front teeth, shiny and impossibly white, looked like a row of Chiclets.
“Nice teeth,” she gasped.
“Temporary crowns,” he growled. “The final set are being made.”
Since she’d been the one who’d broken his teeth by shoving the end of a bellows in his mouth to extract a demon, she decided to refrain from making any other comments about his appearance. “Whatcha got?” she asked, looking at Leland and then Sam, who hadn’t taken a seat but hovered by the door.
“Why don’t you start by telling us what you were doing last night at the Deluxe?” Leland said. “We’ve had the place under surveillance. One of my men said you were parked outside for hours.”
Surprised by his comments, she sat straighter in her chair.
Jason cleared his throat, no doubt to avert any attempt on her part to drag out the explanation and possibly to prevent her from leaving out any salient details. She wrinkled her nose at him and then slumped back, giving Jason the lead. Her partner had tact, something she found occasionally helpful.
Jason leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees. “We were hired by a man who wanted us to follow his wife. He found evidence she might be cheating and wanted us to verify.”
“The name of your client?” Leland barked.
Jason gave Leland a polite smile. “How about we keep his name out of this until we know if it’s relevant? We have a duty to protect our client’s privacy.”
Leland pursed his lips but then gave a curt nod. “The PD was called to investigate a murder. Workers hired to fix some leaky pipes found a body stuffed in the wall of one of the rooms. ME says it’s been there for decades. For shits and giggles, I had them run the DNA, hopin’ maybe we’d find a relative somewhere in the system.” His gaze sharpened, then went directly to Cait. “Wanna know what we found?”
Cait caught herself just before she rolled her eyes. Talk about building the drama.
“She was in the system all right.” He picked up a folder in the center of his desk and sent it sliding toward her. “Name’s Sylvia Reyes. She was in the database. Ten years ago, she claimed to be raped by a john when she was a workin’ girl. Case was dropped. But that’s why we had her DNA. Wanna tell us how some woman who wasn’t born ’til 1984 has been dead for forty or fifty years?”
Blood drained from Cait’s head, leaving her slightly dizzy.
Jason cleared his throat, catching her attention. He glared and tilted his head toward Leland. He gave his silent signal. It was time for her to spill.
She blew out a deep breath, dropping all attitude as she met Leland’s eagle gaze. “The target of our investigation was Sylvia Reyes. She was alive last night, until we almost caught up to her near that room you have taped off.”
Leland’s face froze. “You witnessed a murder and didn’t report it?”
The visions of what she’d seen flitted through her mind. She shook her head. “No, I saw a live woman walk around a corner, then a see-through version of her staring back at me seconds later.”
Behind her, Sam cussed under his breath.
Leland’s face screwed up into a scowl. “Knew soon as Sam mentioned you’d been there, you were somehow wrapped up in this. Uniforms found her car parked outside the hotel this morning, even before we could find her husband to have a chat about his missin’ wife.”
“She hasn’t been gone long enough for him to report,” Jason murmured as he ran a hand over his jaw. “He probably doesn’t know.”
Her glance slid away. “Unless he’s the one who set her up,” she said, suddenly uncomfortable when all three men’s gazes rested on her. She shrugged. “We’re assuming something completely unnatural happened, when this could be a hubby who made a deal with a devil. He didn’t have to hire us to get rock-solid evidence his wife was stepping out on him. He had her Facebook hookup documented. Just sayin’…”
Leland waved his hand, silencing her. “Guess we’re in need of your specialized services, Cait.” He leaned over his desk, his steel-gray eyes pinning her. “Try not to get anyone killed or anything blown up this time.”
When he spun his chair to stare out the window, a clear indication the conversation was over, Cait pushed up from her seat. She gave Sam a searching glance. “We working this together?”
“Why would you have any doubts? Didn’t you hear?” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “I’m the new full-moon guy.”
His voice was gravel-coarse. Anger bristled in the stiff set of his shoulders, but she held her comments until they were back in the corridor, away from homicide’s gossipy cops.
“I was going to tell you,” she mumbled. “But I got a little distracted last night.”
He cussed again and turned on his heel, heading to the elevator.
Not until all three of them were striding outside toward Sam’s unmarked sedan did she open her mouth. “I wasn’t keeping secrets. I would have told you everything—once I was sure Sylvia was dead and that what I saw was her ghost, not just… I don’t know… her taking a walk outside her body. The other ghosts I’ve seen aren’t holographs. They look just like you and me.”
“That even possible?” Jason asked. “Someone walking outside their body?”
Cait shrugged. “My mom claimed she could do astral projection. I never have. How the fuck would I know?”
Sam turned and leaned his butt against his car. “Cait, we are not going down the same path we did last time. I’ll share everything I learn. I expect the same professional courtesy from you.”
“Of course.” Only maybe she’d answered too quickly because both Sam and Jason gave her a look that said they seriously doubted she would. “What? I want to figure this out as badly as you guys do.”
Sam folded his arms over his chest and glared harder.
Jason reached out to touch her shoulder. “Problem is, Cait, when things get hinky you hold on to stuff. Sometimes a bit too long. I know you have issues with that other world you walk in, but you’ve left us swinging in the wind before. We need a little reassurance you won’t this time around.”
Cait huffed. “Fine. I’ll tell you every time I take a potty break too.” She chopped a hand through the air. “You guys ever think that maybe some of this stuff might not be pertinent?”
“Why should you be the one to decide what is and what isn’t pertinent, Cait?” Sam asked, his jaw tightening.
Her glance slid away as she remembered too many times she’d failed to read them in fully because she’d been afraid of sharing her past—and what she really was. “I’m not sure where to start,” she admitted.
Dropping his arms, Sam shook his head, exasperation darkening his expression. “How about with the
frigging crime scene?”
Cop 101. He was right. She’d been quick to leap ahead to the woo-woo when they needed to put feet on the ground first. Relieved, too, that doing so meant she could delay facing Morin, she nodded. “Let’s have a look around. Maybe we’ll find something the crime scene techs overlooked.”
Twenty minutes later, they trailed into the hotel, past a tow truck uploading Sylvia’s car to transport it to the impound lot where techs would comb it for clues. While Jason stopped at the front desk to get a list of all the guests who’d had third-floor rooms the night before, Sam and Cait headed straight to room 323.
Cait did her best not to let him see her unease as they entered the short hallway. But this morning, the light switch was behaving. No sparks or smells of anything burning. No see-through spirit haunting the hallway.
Sam used the edge of the hotel room key to slice through the tape sealing the door and then unlocked it, pushing it open and standing to the side for her to enter.
The first sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks. Sylvia’s oversized purse sat atop the dresser.
“That wasn’t here before,” Sam said quietly.
“It wouldn’t have been. It’s Sylvia’s. She didn’t become a victim until last night.”
Sam set his curled hands on his hips and gave her an even stare. “Do you see her now? Hear any whispers?”
She cocked her head. “No. And all’s quiet.” Freakishly so, but she wasn’t going to mention her unease.
Instead, she inspected the room. The bed was made up. Never slept in. A large section of drywall was missing next to the bathroom door, leaving a gaping hole where the workers had opened it, and then the techs had removed more panels to gather evidence.
Cait walked toward it and stuck her head into the opening. An eight-inch space was framed with wood slats, bits of insulation sticking to the seams. The area appeared empty. An odor teased her nose. Something other than the faint telltale scent of decaying corpse, something she recognized from her apprentice days. Frankincense? Made sense. She popped out her head. “Anything odd about the body when it was found?”
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