“We don’t even know if she was...and neither did he. He could’ve just as easily offered her more money for keeping quiet.”
“If you’d met Yolanda, you’d know that would’ve been a tricky proposition.”
“Then he knew it, too, and killed her.” Jake slurped up the rest of his drink and tossed it into the recycling bin. “I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and that’s the first drink I’ve had since that lemonade with the Behrs. Can I interest you in dinner?”
“We can pick up food and drop in on Quinn. I haven’t told him any of these new—”
“No.”
Her head jerked back and her blue eyes widened.
“As much as I like Quinn and as much as I appreciate his insight on these cases, I’m done for the day. I need to turn off my brain. I need to breathe.”
A little smile haunted her lips. “That’s good advice for your anger management.”
“I thought that stuff was supposed to be confidential.”
“I can make deductions.” She patted his cheek. “Wipe that scowl off your face. I’m down with dinner for just the two of us, and I’m sure Quinn would approve.”
“I seem to remember a funky steak house down on Ocean, Chez Jay. Is that still there?”
“It’s still there, and I haven’t been in years.” She tugged on his sleeve. “We can walk from here, but you can’t leave your car parked in the red forever.”
They made their way through people still milling around the accident scene. Jake picked up his pace when he saw something flapping beneath his windshield wiper.
Kyra crowed. “You got a parking ticket.”
Jake snatched the fluttering sheet of paper and scanned the note. He crumpled it and shoved it into his pocket. “It’s not a ticket.”
As he opened the passenger door for her, she raised her eyebrows at him. “What did it say?”
He grunted before answering. “‘Welcome to Santa Monica. Park illegally in your own city.’”
* * *
KYRA SIPPED THE last of her red wine, its warmth cruising through her bloodstream and melting her bones. Since halfway through her second glass, she hadn’t thought about Yolanda’s violent death or how La Prey knew his email emissary had been discovered and was about to be questioned.
She eyed the wine bottle on the table through a pleasant fog. Jake had suggested ordering the bottle with their steaks, and he’d had less than two glasses, his second half-full, the ruby liquid shimmering in the candlelight.
Tapping his glass with her fingernail, she said, “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Someone has to drive. Besides, you needed it more than I did.” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “Feeling better?”
“A little wine won’t make it go away—not even a lot of wine.”
“I know that better than most, but at least your face has lost its pinched look and your fingers aren’t busy pulling threads from the tablecloth.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Understandable. Are you ready to leave?”
She swallowed and nodded, the haze lifting as she thought about the short ride back to her place in Jake’s LAPD sedan, her car stuck at the station and both of them going to the same place in the morning. It only made sense for him to stay at her apartment.
“I’m ready.” She dropped her napkin onto the table beside her plate.
On the drive to her apartment, Kyra shot a quick glance at Jake. She’d been the one to break things off twice before just when things had gotten interesting. She should be the one to make the first move now.
As his car crawled down her block, she realized he was actually looking for a legal parking space. That could only mean one thing—he planned to stay the night.
He parallel parked with ease and opened his door. “I’ll walk you up.”
Just walk her up? Did that mean he didn’t intend to stay?
Suddenly she had never wanted anything more in her life than to feel Jake’s body next to hers—convenience be damned, first-move protocol be damned.
For a change, she waited in the car while he came around to the passenger side like she knew he would. When he opened the car door, she got out and fell against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. She breathed against his warm, slightly salty skin. “You’re spending the night—and I don’t mean on the couch.”
He put one hand on her lower back and tipped up her chin with the other. “Is that the wine talking?”
“Wine doesn’t talk. This is me.” She grabbed his face with both hands and planted a kiss on his mouth.
He reeled beneath her sudden assault, then recovered quickly and kissed her back until he’d sapped her strength. That wasn’t the wine, either.
His arm around her and her hand grasping the front of his shirt, they staggered down the sidewalk to her apartment building, looking like a couple of drunks on a bender, but it was desire for each other, not alcohol, that fueled their intoxication. At her door, she scrabbled for her keys, dropped them and then banged heads with Jake as they both reached down to retrieve them.
This mishap ended in another soul-searing kiss at the front door, the keys forgotten on the ground between them. Spot meowed and brought them to their senses.
Rubbing the side of his head, Jake said, “Let me.”
He picked up her key chain, and it took him three tries to get the key in the slot.
As she bumped open the door with her hip, she grinned and said, “I was hoping your aim would be better than that.”
He chuckled, a low sound that reverberated in his chest and practically lifted her from the floor as he swept her inside, slamming the door on a grumpy Spot. “You’re too sassy for your own good.”
As punishment for her sassiness, he sealed his mouth over hers and pushed her against the wall in the short hallway.
If they had to stop and kiss like this every few feet before they made it to the bedroom, she wanted a preview of coming attractions. She yanked at the buttons on his shirt and freed it from his slacks. She skimmed her hands across the tight-fitting, V-necked T he had under his dress shirt, the thin material clinging to his muscles.
Pinching the material off his chest, she yanked the T-shirt from his slacks. Her hands wandered beneath the shirt and splayed across the ridges of his pecs.
His hands had been busy, too, and her blouse gaped open. His fingers skimmed the edge of her lacy bra as he kissed her throat.
He murmured against her throbbing pulse. “I need a shower.”
“Not cold?”
“Definitely not cold.”
“This is an old apartment. I’m not sure my shower is going to be big enough for the two of us, but we’ll have to make do ’cause I’m not letting you out of my sight.” She stepped back and crooked her finger at him.
He needed no more encouragement than that. He followed her into the small bathroom, dwarfing everything in it.
Kyra whipped aside the shower curtain, and the blue mermaids hissed and sighed in response, the clacking of the shower curtain rings sounding like applause from their tiny hands.
She cranked on the water to warm it up and turned to grab Jake’s belt. “Normally, people are naked when they take showers.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
The two of them scrambled out of their clothes, bumping their elbows against each other and the walls in their haste.
With Jake standing naked in front of her, she ran her hands down the front of his body, stopping just shy of his erection. She tickled her fingers over the tattoo on his left arm, the tiger fully visible now.
Jake shivered and lifted her off the ground with one arm, placing her in the shower. He climbed in after and she soaped up his massive frame.
He kept grabbing her wrist to stop the exploration of her hand
s, and finally growled, “There’s not enough room in here for what I want to do with you.”
As he washed her body with his rough hands, she imagined all the disappointment, pain and horror of the day sloughing off her skin and circling down the drain.
His hands caressed her soapy breasts, sending tingles cascading through her body. She wrapped her arms around his waist to stay upright as her legs wobbled, and his erection brushed her belly.
With a groan, Jake turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the rack outside the shower.
“I forgot to get another towel for you.”
“Do you have a problem with sharing? Because I plan to share a lot more than a towel with you.”
He patted her dry with the towel first and then swiped it over his own body when she stepped out of the shower.
She backed up into her bedroom, where her king-size bed dominated the room. As her knees hit the edge of the bed, her stomach dipped and she covered her mouth. “I—I don’t have any condoms.”
He grabbed his pants from the bathroom floor and pulled his wallet from the pocket. He held up two foil squares in his fingers. “At least one of us was thinking ahead.”
“Always keep some handy, do you?” She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger, relief and jealousy warring in her breast.
“Ever since I met you.” He descended on her, and they fell to the bed together, a tangle of arms, legs and tongues.
As Jake made love to her body, her mind opened to him completely. He knew her. He’d scaled all her walls, stared into her face, unblinking—and he hadn’t looked away.
When he entered her, she closed around him. Her tongue tasted the soap on his skin. Her fingers traced the hard muscles on his back and buttocks. She sighed against his shoulder, baring her teeth against his flesh as he drove into her.
His frame shuddered and he whispered hoarsely in her ear. “Look at me.”
She turned her head and met his eyes, losing herself in the dark, murky green as his climax claimed every inch of his body...and hers.
His thrusts slowed down, and he squeezed his eyes closed as if savoring every last moment of their connection. When he rolled to her side and nuzzled her throat, she felt a profound and immediate loss.
She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck and twined her legs around his to prolong their contact. As she skimmed her hand across his damp chest, she had a moment of panic. What if he left her, too?
* * *
WITH THE SUNLIGHT streaming through the blinds the following morning and Jake still solidly by her side, Kyra took a moment to stretch her toes to the end of the bed and luxuriate in the moment, sort of like Spot after a saucer of milk.
Her head lolled to the side, and she idly stuck out the tip of her tongue to taste Jake’s shoulder. Her gaze fell on the glowing digital numbers of her clock on the nightstand and she shot up.
Jake mumbled and slung a heavy arm across her waist.
“Jake!” She prodded his arm. “It’s late. We slept in.”
Opening one eye, he cupped her breast and toyed with her nipple. “You have someplace to be?”
She sucked in a breath and squirmed, and then she broke away from him and planted her feet on the floor. “We both do, and I’m not traipsing into the war room with you—late for all the world to see.”
“I’m gonna have to wear the same clothes as yesterday, unless I have time to run home at lunch.” He rubbed his eyes. “I suppose breakfast in bed is out.”
“I have yogurt and granola bars if you want something quick.” She twisted her head around. “Okay if I shower first?”
“Sure you don’t want me to join you?” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.
“Not if we ever hope to make it out of this apartment today.” She wriggled beyond his reach as he grabbed for her.
She took a quick shower, left Jake a clean towel and returned to the bedroom to dress.
Jake was sitting on the edge of the bed, his phone to his ear, the tangled sheets pulled into his lap. He jumped up when he saw her, the sheets falling to the floor. Despite his glorious nakedness, it was his face that commanded her attention, every plane alive with excitement.
“Billy found something in the tapes?”
A wide smile claimed his lips as he nodded. “Two cars, license plates and everything, in Crystal’s neighborhood, and two very similar cars in Andrea’s area. Looks like we have a couple of suspects.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jake sat across from the first suspect, his stomach plunging by the minute. No way was Trevor Beard their neat, anal-retentive killer. The guy couldn’t even keep the doughnut crumbs from falling onto his paunch.
“So, tell me again, Mr. Beard. Why was your car in this neighborhood?” Jake drilled a finger into a still photo of Beard’s car taken from a security camera a few blocks from Crystal’s house.
“Like I said—” Beard took a gulp of soda and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth “—I was picking up my kid.”
“At two in the morning?” Billy cocked his head and Jake could tell his partner was trying with all his might not to focus on the coffee stain on Beard’s T-shirt.
“Yeah, two in the morning. My ex won’t let me pick up my girl when the babysitter’s there. So, I waited, and the ex didn’t stumble in until around two. Figures—anything she can do to get me in trouble.”
“I hear ya, brother.” Billy shook his head and whipped out the other photo, the one near Andrea’s place with no clear license plate. “What about here? Is this your car?”
Beard bent over the metal desk and squinted. “I don’t think so. Hard to tell. Where was it?”
Jake answered, “Canoga Park.”
“No way.” Beard leaned back and folded his arms on his belly. “I don’t never go there.”
Both Jake and Billy had already given Beard their cards.
Jake nudged Billy’s foot with his own. “I think we’re done here, Mr. Beard. We may call you again if we have any more questions.”
“Fine by me. I didn’t do nothing. Should be a crime to pick up your sleeping kid at that time of the morning, but what’re you gonna do when your ex is out partying?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Billy planted his hands on the desk and pushed up. “Detective McAllister will walk you out.”
Jake shot Billy a dirty look from beneath his lashes.
Beard grabbed his can. “Hey, do you have any more of those little doughnuts I can have on my way out?”
“Sure.” Jake ushered Beard out the door and rolled his eyes at Billy.
When he came back, Billy was brushing crumbs from the table into his palm. “That guy would’ve left a trail of bread crumbs at the crime scenes.”
“Yeah, not our guy.”
“Which is a good thing we can eliminate him, because we got nothing, partner. No judge is going to give us a search warrant based on a car on an LA street in a video. We can’t get anything from these guys.”
“I’m aware.” Jake slipped out of his jacket and draped it over his arm. “When’s the next guy coming?”
“About fifteen minutes. He informed me that he had to leave work early for the interview.”
“What’s he do?”
“Engineer at an aerospace company, so basically a rocket scientist.” Billy leveled a finger at the jacket. “Didn’t you wear that suit yesterday?”
“I like the suit. I wore it for the visit with the Behrs and thought it would be good for the interviews.” Jake shook out the jacket again to avoid Billy’s eyes.
“You were late this morning, too.”
“Not like I haven’t been working sixteen-hour days. Who are you, my mother?”
“If I were, I’d be telling you not to spend the night at a girl’s house on a school day.” Billy shook his finger at Jake, and Jake
displayed another finger to Billy before he walked out of the interview room.
“I’m going to grab a couple of drinks for the next guy.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jake returned to the interrogation room with two sodas and a file folder tucked under one arm. He stowed the items on the table and lingered by the door. Billy had gone downstairs to meet the second suspect, or at least the man who owned the other car caught on video, and Jake always liked to watch them walk. You could tell a lot about a man by the way he walked.
Billy knew what his partner was doing and allowed the subject to walk ahead of him down the hallway.
Mr. Cyrus Fisher had good posture. He dressed his wiry frame in khaki pants with a short-sleeved light blue button-up shirt, no tie. He swung his arms at his sides, but as he approached Jake, he stuck his hands in his pockets. The crepe soles of his shoes made zero noise on the linoleum, and he inclined his head and pursed his lips when he reached the room.
Jake stuck out his hand. “Mr. Fisher, I’m Detective McAllister. Thank you for taking time out of your day to answer some questions for us.”
“Certainly.” He grasped Jake’s hand with his own, and despite the sinewy muscles of his forearm, Fisher’s grip was weak.
Jake stepped aside and gestured Fisher to the hot seat—the one bolted to the floor so that suspects couldn’t turn it in a different direction. They had to face their inquisitors head-on.
Fisher eyed the other two chairs before bending his knees and lowering himself to the chair.
Jake shoved a soda across the table. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” Fisher’s sharp nose appeared sharper as he lifted his chin and peered down at the can.
“Coffee, then?”
“I never drink coffee at the end of the day, Detective McAllister.” Fisher held up one bony finger. “One cup in the morning is all I allow myself.”
Jake shrugged and cracked the tab on his can of soda, but his nostrils flared and his pulse ratcheted up a notch.
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