by Nancy Gideon
“Yes. But Rollo—what if he surfaces again?”
Max gave a small, tight smile. “That’s unlikely. I’ll make sure he doesn’t, and I’ll keep the truth away from Charlotte.”
“And? There’s more. Spell it out, Savoie.”
A shadow of Jimmy Legere crossed Max’s expression as he leaned forward, a predatory gleam of fierceness in his eyes, of having an exposed throat in his jaws. “You and I will be doing business together, Simon, a sort of unofficial partnership. Nothing intolerable that you won’t be able to live with. But certainly something you won’t be able to live without. You see, I’m a businessman, too. At one time, I would have simply torn out your throat to keep you from telling Charlotte a truth that would wound her. But I promised her I would behave myself. So now I’m just going to sink my teeth into your reputation. I’m going to make sure you keep those promises you toss about so freely.”
Cummings nodded, feeling the sting at his neck.
Max smiled. “I’m going to enjoy doing business with you.”
AFTER LEAVING THE Cummings home, Max made one more stop, to a dark hospital room where he waited in shadow until groggy eyes opened and focused on him in surprise.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. And I wanted to let you know that despite what you might hear, justice has been done for you and your daughters. You’re safe now.”
For a moment she just stared at him, then she smiled faintly.
“Thank you.”
WELL RESTED, CRISPLY dressed, and carrying a cup of coffee, Charlotte Caissie started up the steps of the courthouse, thinking only one thing would have made the morning complete. Unfortunately waking to find herself alone nipped that possibility in the bud.
“Nice job, detective.”
She glanced around to see Karen Crawford fixing a microphone to her exquisitely tailored suit. “Thank you, Ms. Crawford. It was your faith and support that sustained me.” With the cameraman still fussing with his equipment, Cee Cee felt safe to linger to enjoy the crow eating.
“This man, this Rollo, how does he fit in with the murders?”
“That will all be covered in the commissioner’s statement. He’ll be making one later this morning, after I give him my full report.”
“Come on, Detective Caissie. This is your moment. Talk to me. Get a little face time.”
Charlotte followed the sudden shift in the reporter’s attention and saw Max Savoie and his attorney exit the building. In his Armani suit and dark glasses, Max looked every inch the dynamic businessman, with just enough edge to make her heart stumble.
“Face time,” she murmured. “Excellent idea.”
Max paused at the top of the steps, waiting for her to come up to him. His voice was a low, intimate caress.
“Good morning, detective. How nice to see you again so soon.”
“I expected to see you a bit sooner.” She stopped a step below him. Her tone betrayed slight irritation, and an undercurrent of frustrated longing.
“I’m sorry. I had some business to attend to. Since I was out and about, I figured I’d drop in and get my statement on record. Your partner obliged me. A poor substitute, but who knew you planned to sleep half the day away?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And look so gorgeous and irresistible doing so. I love waking up to you.” He glanced at his attorney. “Thank you, Tony. I’ll see you at the office.”
“Max.” A stiff inclination of his head, “Detective.”
Then Max only had eyes for her. No one observing them would know the effort it took for him not to reach out to her, to touch her. But he wouldn’t, because she didn’t want him to. Not here. And so he stood, smiling as if to an acquaintance, when all he could think about was starting down the buttons of her silky white shirt . . . Damned if it wasn’t his shirt!
“Where are you off to?” Her words were casual, while her gaze moved over him as if it was peeling off his clothes.
“I’ve got to go to the office. I’ve neglected things there for too long and Francis is probably embezzling all my money. I need to stand over his shoulder today and make him nervous. Or maybe I’ll just have to kill him.”
She pursed her red lips into a sassy smirk. “Decisions, decisions. I can think of several things you’ve neglected, like that Canyon tour we talked about.”
“Careful, detective. I’ll have you right here on these steps before Ms. Crawford can say, ‘Roll tape.’”
“Ooo, I’ve always wanted to be in the movies.”
He showed his teeth briefly, then was suddenly serious. “You showed quite a flair for the dramatic in your statement. Are you all right with that? I would never have asked you to.”
Was she all right about making a false statement about the events of the previous night? Uncomfortably all right. It should have been tearing her up inside. So why wasn’t it?
He had his answer. She would break her laws for him, for him and his clan of unnatural followers, to protect him. And to protect them, for him. As long as justice was done as it had been in that warehouse on the river.
Maybe later she would feel regret for the tarnishing of her ideals. But now all she felt was relief. Relief and an impatience to take back all those things she’d sacrificed to bring the case to a close. And a cautious acceptance of the fact that this wasn’t the first or the last time she was going to be forced to hopscotch along that straight line of the law in order to be with the one she loved.
He hadn’t asked her to step across that tenuous line. He hadn’t asked her to make sacrifices. But she’d said, “Help me, Max,” and he had vowed in that low, fervent rumble, “I would do anything for you.” Anything to ease her pain, to serve her purpose, to see her precious justice done.
What had she been willing to risk for him?
“You shouldn’t have to ask, Max.” She took his hand. Such a simple thing. No grand or overly demonstrative gesture but he went suddenly still, his fingers remaining motionless as hers stroked over them.”
Suddenly Karen Crawford was there, shoving her microphone between them.
“Mr. Savoie, I understand you paid a visit to Noreen Cummings this morning. For an apology?”
Max frowned slightly. “To express my regret over the pain her family has suffered, Ms. Crawford.”
“Are you relieved now that the stigma of guilt has been lifted from you?”
“I was never guilty, Ms. Crawford. I’m relieved not to be hounded by those who were determined to make it seem so.” His reply was so smooth, it took her a moment to respond with a slight narrowing of her eyes.
She turned to Cee Cee. “I understand Mr. Savoie was instrumental in your breaking this case, Detective Caissie.”
“It was his information and Noreen Cummings’s description that led us to the alleged killer.”
“Who is currently still at large. Will you be heading that team as well?”
“No, Detective Hammond will be in charge. He’ll provide you with details as they become available.”
“And where will you be, detective?”
“Taking some personal days.”
“What will you use them for?”
“As you suggested, some serious face time.” She caught Max’s tie and tugged him down to her, then tapped two fingers on her lips. “Step up, Savoie, and thank me.”
There was no resistance in the way his mouth settled over hers. Firm, warm, and wooing. Her breathing was seriously compromised by the time she let him go, and the curve of his lips looked smugly satisfied.
“Detective Caissie, are you confirming rumors of your relationship with Max Savoie, right here on the steps of a New Orleans courthouse?”
“I don’t need to confirm anything with Mr. Savoie, and I don’t listen to rumors, Ms. Crawford.” She straightened his tie and placed her hand upon his snowy white shirt, unable to resist the feel of him so hot and hard and male beneath the fabric.
Her voice lowered. “I�
��ll see you later, baby.”
“So you and Mr. Savoie are . . . ?”
“Busy, Ms. Crawford.”
MAX STOOD IN the hall, glumly studying the new wood floor. Its gleam betrayed no hint of a violent past. Its polished surface held no memories, no dark reflections. And suddenly he wanted the old, stained boards back so he would never forget. So he would always feel close to the man who raised him.
Restless, he wandered back by the kitchen, where several of the men played cards while keeping an eye on the closed-circuit monitors.
Giles greeted him with a smile. “Hey, boss man. Play a few hands?”
“No thanks.” He scanned the screens impatiently.
“You looked good on the news.”
A couple of snickers.
“I did? What was I doing on the news?”
More chuckles and a few rib pokes.
“Sucking the lips off Detective Caissie.” Max stared at Giles, jaw unhinged and so aghast, Giles had to run with it. “Real nice close-up, too. The voice-over from that fine little reporter was talking about the murder case being solved, but I think the real story she was after was the tongue action.”
Max cursed. If Charlotte’s superiors saw it . . . Of course they would see it. So much for being discreet.
“I made a recording of it for you, boss. If you ever want any other kind of video taken of Detective Caissie, just let me know. Happy to do it for you.”
But Max wasn’t listening.
His stomach lurched. No wonder he hadn’t heard from her: she was probably being dressed down by her commander. What had they done?
“Here she comes. Nobody kicks up dust like your lady behind the wheel of a big block.”
Max’s gaze jumped to the screen, and some of his anxiety eased when the aggressive little green and black car raced into view. She probably wanted to drive it over him and park it up his ass. Or she was coming to pick up her clothes on her commander’s orders.
He followed the different angles, through the gates, up the drive, screeching to a stop at the front porch. She climbed out of the vehicle and jogged up the steps wearing tight jeans, running shoes, and a skimpy tank top that offered some majorly suggestive bouncing. Then she was out of camera range.
He waited, listening for the front door.
Nothing. No knock. No sound of her letting herself in.
Then his cell phone rang.
“You look hot on camera, Savoie. Crawford must be creaming herself with jealousy. She’s got it bad for you, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” He turned his back on the others so they wouldn’t see his foolish grin. “And how ’boutchu?”
“I want you bad, Savoie. Now.”
He tightened like an overwound watch, but his voice remained casual. “Where are you? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I didn’t. I’m outside.”
His brow lowered in puzzlement. “Why?”
“Come find me.”
“Is this some kind of game?”
“Yes. And you’re It. Chase me, Max.”
A bolt of heat charged through him.
“Catch me if you can.” On that sultry taunt, she hung up.
A rush of adrenaline revved Max’s system. “Turn off the cameras,” he told Giles.
“Do what, boss?”
“Turn off the cameras. Leave them off until I tell you otherwise.”
“Sure thing. But what—”
Max ripped off his tie. His coat followed. And then he was gone. No sound of his Converse shoes on the hall hardwood. No creak of the door or slap of the frame. He was simply gone.
The fellows looked at one another with brows raised in speculation. Then up at the monitors expectantly. They grumbled when the screens went black.
“Don’t you boys have things to do?” Giles ordered. As they slunk away, he grinned at the red Record light. Home movies they probably wouldn’t want to show in mixed company.
MAX CROSSED THE lawn in an easy lope, his gaze sweeping the grass until he picked up the crush of her footsteps. Excitement, swift and visceral, kicked up his pulse rate. He ran in a low crouch, tracking her long strides until they disappeared into the woods. He grinned, the expression feral. If she thought she could lose him, she was mistaken.
Going by scent and sound, he plunged onward. Turning toward the snap of a branch, the sudden warm tease of perfume, he rushed in a new direction, feeling her close in the heavy stillness of the woods. Almost close enough to touch. To taste. To eat.
He felt movement, but looked around a moment too late. Swinging from a low limb, she hit him with the flat of both feet right between the shoulder blades. He flew forward, stumbling, falling face-first to the ground. He tasted dirt and old leaves and heard her quick, laughing breaths as she sprinted away. He was on his feet in an eye blink and in pursuit.
She was fast and strong and clever. She vaulted up onto a stone wall and ran along its uneven top, swinging up into overhanging branches like a tomboy, leaving no path to follow. Dropping down into a swallow creek bed, then splashing upstream, slowed by her waterlogged shoes and pant legs.
He hit her from behind, a low tackle that knocked her forward but gave him time to twist to take the impact himself. She was up, off, and over him in an instant. He caught her ankle, bringing her down again to slap water and muck. She scrambled free, leaving him with a single shoe and a face full of mud. He lunged after her with a throaty growl, grabbing her around the knees, unprepared as she whirled about and dragged him down with her. She shoved his head underwater, using it to push herself back up to her feet to run.
Max came up on all fours, shaking his head to clear the water from his eyes, which now gleamed hot and gold. This time he didn’t follow after her. Instead, he veered off to one side, skimming through the woods, his heart beating hard and fast, his breath rushing light and quick. And he began to shift into something he barely recognized, something primitive and wild.
CEE CEE CURSED softly as a sharp twig stabbed into the bottom of her foot. She hobbled on through the deeply shadowed surroundings, not sure where she was in relationship to the house. Not sure where Max was, or if he was even following her. Wet, sore, and tired, she trudged on, the fun factor rapidly ebbing out of the adventure. Thinking it was time to call Max in and adjourn their sexcapade to a soft bed and clean sheets, she stopped—and heard a low, deep vibration of sound.
“Little girls shouldn’t wander in the woods alone. Not when dangerous animals are on the prowl.”
She started walking again. He was so close she could hear his breathing. “Some little girls can take care of themselves and are more dangerous than the animals.”
A husky chuckle. “Not this animal. Not this King of the Beasts. Are you ready to give up?”
“Not quite yet.”
She broke left and with a quick feint dodged right. But he was fast, so fast, and right on top of her. He cinched his arm about her waist, thinking to trap her close, but she reached over her shoulder to get a lock on his dark head, using skill and leverage to flip him. Then, because she didn’t want to run anymore from what she so desperately wanted, she dropped down astride him, pinning his wrists to the ground.
“Gotcha, oh great King of the Beasts.” She grinned down at him, breathing loudly with a hard-won satisfaction.
“Do you? I wonder.” With a powerful move, he rolled, coming up over her, restraining her easily with his size and strength. She didn’t struggle. Instead, her body bowed up to rub against his. His eyes went dark, the pupils swelling to swallow up any trace of color. His grip on her relaxed just enough for her to reverse the hold and pitch him over.
“I win,” she gloated, lowering to take his mouth as her prize. Then she leaned back to meet his stare. “Do you surrender?”
He grinned. “Of course. Then we both win. I like this game.”
His hands cupped the back of her head, bringing her down to him, to a kiss that wasn’t sweet or safe or gentle. His mouth crushed hers, d
emanding, almost brutal. And because his claim of her was so quick and complete, she bit his lower lip to restore some of the balance. He didn’t relent, his fingers fisting in her hair as he continued to devour her will. And she wanted him to.
Her hands tore open his shirt. He released her and enjoyed the way she nipped down his chest to his belly, toeing off his shoes as she slid down his zipper to use her mouth on him there until he couldn’t stand it. His control fracturing, he sat up, hauling her to him for more fierce, urgent kisses. She stood to let him peel down her jeans, stepping out of them before settling back onto his lap, for a rough, elemental mating of tongues.
Then his head dipped lower and his mouth closed upon her sensitive breast. The breath exploded from her lungs. His name moaned from her as his hands pushed up her thin tank top so he could apply a direct assault on her soft skin and stiff nipples. The sharp tugs and soothing swirls of his tongue, that mind-blowing blend of tender and rough, had her shaking with a six on the Richter scale.
And then the feel of his palms on her thighs, rubbing, sliding upward until his thumbs stroked and teased and parted her. Slipped inside her. A spectacular release rumbled through her, and before the last of those splendid aftershocks ran their course she felt him press against her, rock hard and ready.
She palmed the mud from his cheeks. His stare fixed to hers, glittering a hot green and gold. His desire for her lasered from his eyes. Not just for the incredible hot sex, but for her. For her love, her acceptance, her loyalty. His hunger for those things burned deep and hot.
She understood it, having suffered from that hunger just as keenly. She took a wild joy in knowing it was the same for both of them, that only the other could satisfy that craving, could fill that need. It would never be the same with anyone else. Max Savoie, her fiercely primitive, frustratingly mysterious, and desperately faithful lover, was It for her. Her chance to have everything she’d dreamed of. And what it would take to keep him quite simply scared her brainless.