At least for one more day.
She’d seen the water hemlock growing when she first put the cooler in the water. She’d seen it before, as this was their spot. Clay didn’t know what it was, or if he did he never commented on it.
She took a cloth napkin from their lunch basket and used it as a glove of sorts, wrapping her hand in it while she crushed the water hemlock leaves, breaking the membranes and releasing the poison. She didn’t want any to be absorbed through her skin. It would take a lot of leaves because the poison didn’t mix well with cold water. She stuffed the leaves into an empty water bottle, then poured lemonade into it and shook it well. She let it sit for a minute, watching the leaves. She pretended she could actually see the poison leaching from the leaves into the pale yellow liquid. It was turning a darker color. That she wasn’t imagining. It was working.
“Maggie! We only got thirty minutes before curfew,” Clay called from beyond the grove of trees.
His mother’s curfew. Six p.m. on Sundays. So they could have a family dinner. One they never invited Maggie to. She’d bet they’d invite Cindy Tomlinson.
She strained the lemonade into another water bottle. It didn’t quite look right. Would he notice? Maybe. She put everything back in the cooler, then re-packed the basket and cooler and brought everything over to the oak tree. The wet hemlock leaves were stuck in the bottle-she’d have to dispose of it later.
Clay lay on his back, watching her.
She put everything down and pretended to drink the lemonade. “Still cold, but a little tart. Want some?”
“My mother never puts in enough sugar.”
He took the water bottle and chugged half the poisoned lemonade, then grimaced. “Yeah, I think it was in the sun too long.”
He screwed on the cap and tossed it on the blanket. He patted the spot next to him, and she sat down.
“Don’t worry about tomorrow,” he told her. “Just here and now. Today, everything’s fine, right?”
Maggie smiled. “Everything’s perfect.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With the background reports spread out on Nora’s dining room table, a glass of buttery chardonnay in front of her-her one and only for the evening-she finally hung up her phone.
In the two hours she’d been home, she’d been productive. She’d heard back from Sara Ralston that Anya Ballard was not the woman with Russ Larkin on Sunday in Starbucks, even if she had dark hair, according to Summer, the coffeehouse employee who had seen her. Then she’d talked to Rachel about running a background check on Maggie O’Dell, including all variations of the name “Maggie.”
“Make sure you get a photo from the DMV and Rose College. Get her transcripts as well-if they squawk, let me know. We’ll get a warrant. We have more than enough cause.”
She was satisfied that Rachel would hop on the assignment first thing in the morning, and they’d debrief at nine with the rest of the team, after Nora observed the autopsies of the three students. Coffey would send her the information, but she’d rather stop by and get it faster. It wasn’t too far out of her way to head up to Placer County before going to headquarters.
She made notes on Anya, Scott, and Chris. While they shared their major and college, they were born in different towns, went to different high schools, and didn’t seem to have had any contact prior to attendance at Rose College.
She went through the Butcher-Payne employees yet again, to see if she missed something. When Nora’s doorbell rang, she jumped.
Embarrassed even though no one saw her reaction, she walked cautiously to the door and glanced through the peephole.
Duke.
Nora opened the door. Before she could say anything, Duke said, “You disappeared.”
She tilted her head. “Hardly.”
He stepped across her threshold without an invitation. She stepped back. She’d had to, to avoid touching him.
“You didn’t tell me you were leaving headquarters,” he said.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” It took all her willpower to look him straight in the eye and not remember the kiss. “I told Jason,” she said.
The kiss. Hardly something she could forget. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach and she told herself it was hunger.
Right, hunger. Go ahead and try to convince yourself you want a can of soup more than you want Duke Rogan.
She stepped back again, though he hadn’t moved. He smiled, a Cheshire cat grin, as if he knew something she didn’t.
He stepped all the way in and shut the door.
She turned away from him and walked down the hall toward the dining room where she had her work spread out in front of her. “I’m working,” she said over her shoulder, hoping distance might extinguish the growing heat between them.
“You’re always working.” He was right behind her, and his long legs cut the space between them quickly.
She hardly thought he was one to judge, and she spun around to tell him just that.
Duke was mere inches behind her. His right hand wrapped around her neck and pulled her mouth to his without hesitation, without asking permission, without a doubt in his mind that she would resist.
She didn’t.
Her mouth opened, her body pressed against his and Duke pulled her closer, his left hand around her back, under her shirt, molding her back, holding her tight against him.
Everything fell away, the pressure of her job, the memories of the past, worry for her team and her sister and the victims. Everything disappeared, and it was only the two of them, her and Duke, as if nothing else mattered, nothing else was important but for the first time in her life giving in to what she wanted.
Duke had been right when he said she’d never factored in her dreams in any decision she made.
She made a decision for herself right now. She wanted Duke Rogan, and she was going to take exactly what she wanted.
Nora pulled his T-shirt from his jeans, ran her hands up his hard, broad chest. Her thumbs circled his nipples and Duke’s hand fisted in her hair as he tightened his grip, his tongue shooting into her mouth, mimicking sex. She shivered, a moan trapped between their lips, and wrapped her arms around him to keep from falling to her knees.
His free hand grabbed her ass and held her up, his fingers massaging her, squeezing, teasing. Between them, the temperature rose and Nora burned. She grabbed the ends of Duke’s T-shirt and pulled it up; he grabbed it with one hand and pulled it over his head. She stared at his sculpted body, wasted when hidden by clothes. She swallowed, but her mouth was dry, and then he was kissing her again, a kiss that promised her everything she’d wanted but denied herself. A kiss that told her he wasn’t going away, a kiss that told her he knew her better than she knew herself, and that from the beginning she’d wanted him.
He was right.
His hands came between them, flicking her blouse open with confident fingers, exposing her flesh and lacy white bra. Her head dipped back as his firm lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, his tongue tracing a line that sent hot chills racing along her nerves, down to her neck where he lightly bit her, then drew her skin into his mouth, leaving her breathless.
He fell to his knees, his face against her chest. He unhooked her bra with one hand, tossed it away without thought, his mouth drawing in her breast without hesitating, then switching sides, back and forth, his hands moving as if they knew exactly where she wanted to be touched. Nora’s breath caught in her throat when his hands pulled down her slacks with an impatient jerk, and then squeezed her ass, his mouth moving down her stomach, past her waist, until his tongue flicked out and tasted her through her panties. She gasped, a high-pitched yelp that sounded nothing like her, caught between foreplay and sex. Her knees buckled, her legs spread, and she began to sink to the floor, but Duke held her up, one hand supporting her back, the other pushing her most intimate place closer to him, where his mouth suckled as if he were dying of thirst.
She couldn’t see, she couldn’t think, the edge of the cliff wa
s there, in front of her. She grabbed Duke’s shoulders, holding on as if she would drown; a rainbow of light burst, and she exploded with a cry that sounded far, far away.
She tried to catch her breath while trying to find his mouth with hers. But instead of kissing her, he hauled her up off the floor, and over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing. Duke carried her down the hall to her bedroom. He tossed her on the bed and she finally opened her eyes and saw him, looking as hot and needy as she felt. His skin glistened with perspiration, and between her dining room and her bedroom, he’d lost his jeans. He towered over her naked, his cock long and hard in front of him.
“God, you’re gorgeous.” His voice growled, rough and gravelly, as he bent over her, his hands on either side of her head, slowly, until he kissed her again.
Duke had wanted Nora English since the first time he’d seen her four years ago. Every time he’d consulted with her squad, before the arsons, he’d wanted her even more. One look at her, and he’d known she wanted to explore him just as much, but she wouldn’t let herself. Nora never gave herself a minute to indulge in what she wanted. He needed her to open up to him, to talk to him, so he could find out everything about her, why she was so driven, so serious, so dedicated. He needed her to open her body to him, just like this, though her wanton response was far more thrilling than he’d imagined. He thought he’d have to work harder, but as soon as he called her out for her feelings, she caved, and he loved it. She was an open book, and everything he thought he knew about her was both very right and wrong at the same time. Nora was everything she appeared to be, but more. She had more depth, more passion, more everything than what appeared on the surface.
And here, now, the way she looked at him, giving herself fully and completely to him and their mutual pleasure was turning him nearly desperate with lust.
He wanted slow and easy, he wanted to show her how strongly he felt about her, but the depths of his desire were greater than he could control. He gave, she took and returned everything back, her hands firm and unwavering in their exploration of his chest, his back, and then she reached down and grabbed his cock and squeezed. A guttural growl escaped his chest.
He swallowed her mouth, grunting with restraint as she moaned out his name.
“Nora,” he whispered into her ear, sucking the lobe, kissing the soft, delicate skin behind her ear. “Nora,” he said again, “You had me from the beginning.” He kissed her neck, her body moving beneath him, her hands moving back up his body, her short nails scraping neither too light nor too hard up his back, but with confidence.
She grasped his hands, squeezed, and pulled them above her head, trapping herself beneath his body, holding tight, her body moving to a tempo they both heard in their collective heart.
He didn’t need a road map, his body moved into position, his cock twitching between her legs as it sought ground zero. When he touched her, she gasped, her eyes fluttered closed, and her heart raced against his chest.
Duke sank slowly into her, a nearly primal groan vibrating his chest. Nora gasped beneath him and held her breath, her mouth open, her eyes closed, her face an open book of pleasure tinged with discomfort. He realized then that she was sharing something precious with him, that she didn’t jump in bed with just anyone, that she was opening up far more of herself than he’d hoped for. And he would take it all, and pray he could return every ounce of trust she’d placed in him.
Nora couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, but she knew it had never been like this.
She released Duke’s hands and wrapped her arms around his back, her fingers pressing into his hard muscles as she stretched herself for him. There was nothing in the world like this, being here, with Duke. Her mind didn’t wander, her body didn’t betray her nervousness. In fact, she wasn’t nervous. She had a confidence that emboldened her, that pushed her to seek more from Duke, more from herself, than she’d thought she’d wanted.
She arched her back and without having to say anything, he pushed himself fully into her. She bit back a cry as she lost her breath. The needful sounds, the rich, earthy scents, the texture of his body on top of her, inside of her, wrapped around her, heightened her perceptions. It was as if she were fully and completely absorbed into this man. She didn’t know where she ended and Duke began. She didn’t want to know. Never had she felt so at one with another human being, never had she felt so desired or hungry. He filled her, melting her, becoming part of her.
He pushed up off her chest, giving her air she didn’t want but sorely needed, his hands on either side of her head.
“Nora,” he whispered, his voice throaty and deep, sending shivers that vibrated through her body and made him grunt.
She opened her eyes, his deep blue eyes only inches from hers, his square jaw set. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as his hips moved, slowly up, then down until she gasped, a tornado building again inside her, bigger, stronger, more powerful than the twister that overtook her in the dining room.
He knew it, too, his face darkening, as he forced himself to go slow. She felt his biceps; they were hard, his veins pronounced as he controlled his movements. His sweat dripped onto her skin, their scents mingling. Her entire body responded to Duke, her hips meeting his as they quickly developed a perfect rhythm, a tempo that with every beat increased the pace.
In another flash of light and heat, Nora cried out, her body arching as if pulled up by an invisible string, and she wrapped one leg around Duke’s waist to hold him there, right there, as waves of her orgasm crashed into each other, one after the other. Duke wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her tight to him as his own orgasm exploded into her. The intensity, the incredible high of their shared pleasure, left Nora dizzy and completely satiated.
Duke eased down on her, his heart pounding so hard she was lulled by the rhythmic power. He kissed her on her cheek, her neck, her lips, soft whispers of affection, of satisfaction, of comfort.
“That was …” she began, but her mind was mush and she smiled and sighed, squirming beneath him.
“Incredible,” he finished. He rolled over, pulling her with him, and managed to find the sheet that had fallen she didn’t know where. He wrapped the sheet around them, and held her.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said emphatically.
“Good,” she whispered and snuggled into him. Her eyes closed and she sighed with contentment. She couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Duke watched Nora as she drifted off to sleep. Her hair was damp from their activities, and he tucked it behind one of her ears so he could see her profile. So soft, so beautiful, so peaceful in rest. She looked vulnerable, something that she hid very well most of the time.
The urge to protect was common to him; it was part of his job. But the need to keep Nora safe overwhelmed him. This wasn’t Duke’s job, this was more. He couldn’t bear for Nora to be hurt, he had to keep her safe and protect her not only from predators, but from her own relentless drive, her strong empathy, and sense of guilt for things she had no control over. Nora never had anyone looking out for her: not her mother, not her boss, not even her sister. And certainly not Nora.
But now she had Duke. This was far more important than a job. It involved his heart, and he was losing it to Nora faster than he could tell her he loved her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Overwhelming despair washed over Leif Cole as the sheriff drove him home from the morgue. Anya was dead and Leif felt more than partly responsible.
She’d been so upset when she found out someone had died in the fire at Butcher-Payne, Leif should have stayed with her. He’d never imagined she’d kill herself.
He also knew that if Jonah Payne had been murdered in cold blood, Anya had played no part in it. She wouldn’t kill any living creature intentionally. Nothing Sheriff Lance Sanger or FBI agent English said would ever convince him otherwise. The arson? Yes. Murder? Never.
Lance turned down the long driveway that led to Leif’s small but private ranc
h house in pricey Granite Bay. His former friend had been surprisingly kind during the morgue visit and subsequent drive. Leif had been in no shape to pick up his own car that he’d left at Rose College when Lance arrested him, but he could call a friend for a ride or get a taxi tomorrow. If he went to classes tomorrow. He had a lot of thinking to do. Thinking and mourning.
Anya had been too young to die.
“Thank you,” Leif said, his hand on the door handle.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lance said, distinctly uncomfortable.
“She’s gone,” Leif whispered. He cleared his throat. “She didn’t kill Jonah Payne, not in the way Agent English said.”
“I’m not going to discuss the investigation with you.”
“Fine, just listen then. Anya made mistakes, but her motivations were good. Murder-it’s not in her blood. I can’t believe she killed herself. I don’t know if I believe it.”
“We’re investigating all three deaths thoroughly,” Lance said. “I assure you we’ll find out what happened.”
“It won’t bring her back.” His voice caught in his throat.
Lance shifted in his seat, and Leif knew it would be expecting too much to ask him to come in for a drink. Lance was a cop, but more than his career, Lance didn’t understand why Leif believed so passionately in his ideas. Time had divided them, and ideas kept them apart. When your core values differed, there was no seeing eye-to-eye.
“I know, don’t leave town,” Leif said, opening the door.
“Leif-” Lance began.
Leif glanced at him.
Lance said, “I’m sorry I was a jerk when you came back from college. I missed our friendship, and you weren’t the same.”
“We all grow up. You changed too,” Leif said. “We aren’t the same kids we were. But I’ll never forget when we put the dead skunk in Ms. Knudson’s office after she accused us of cheating.”
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