One Night

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “Here.” He handed her a dark blue T-shirt. “Put this on and meet me downstairs.”

  Kate took the shirt and pulled it on. “You seen my shorts?” She was bending over, lifting Walker’s dress pants from the floor, when she spied her gray running shorts and felt the light smack on her bare bottom.

  She jumped up. “Hey!” Her hand touched the spot his had landed on.

  “You have a great ass,” he said, and he pulled open the door and walked out.

  Kate stood there, listening as the man who’d had her in every way imaginable jogged down the stairs, whistling.

  ***

  Chapter 13

  By the time Walker arrived downstairs, Kruso had already helped herself to a soda. The thing of it was that there wasn’t a detective he worked with who hadn’t shown up here when he was home. Most knocked before walking right in. Kruso, although an anomaly among the bigger cops around her, fit in kind of like the team mascot. She was tough, foulmouthed, and smart, and her youngest kid was just out of diapers.

  “So when did you start bringing witnesses and victims of crimes home and sleeping with them?” she asked before taking a swallow of ginger ale.

  “When did you start just walking into my place?”

  She shrugged. “I knocked, you didn’t answer. I got worried, is all.” She jutted her chin toward the stairs. “So?” she asked, waiting him out.

  “She’s interesting” was all he could say. The truth was that Kate had kind of bowled him over. The sizzle between them was off the charts, and he’d never experienced a woman like her. He’d thought that after the first time, he’d be satisfied, but he still wasn’t, not by a long shot. It was the taste of her, and every time he had her, he wanted more.

  “Hmm,” she said.

  He wasn’t sure he liked the way Kruso was eyeing him up. Before she could start poking her nose in his business any more, he decided to steer the conversation away from his libido. “So what happened with this Ryder dude? You said he called 911.”

  “Units are on their way, should be there now. Apparently his place was trashed. That’s all I know. Thought you wanted to know, as well, since this is your case—and you are, after all, protecting the victim.”

  The way she said it, Walker knew she was trying to get the conversation back on Kate. “What about Cindy Schmidt? Where is she?”

  Kruso was wearing the same tweed jacket she always did, with dark pants. Her cropped hair looked as if she’d gotten out of bed in a hurry and forgotten to brush it. “Well, that’s the thing. She’s not at home. We’ve got units out looking for her. The crime lab had a go at your Kate’s computer and found a virus on it.”

  He heard the creak on his stairs and turned to see Kate in his T-shirt and her shorts, still barefoot, her wet hair combed back. She had a killer body and stirred his interest more than a woman ever had. Talk about a match in bed!

  “A virus on my computer?” she asked. “How can that be? I have an antivirus program on there that’s supposed to be top notch and catch everything.”

  Kruso gave her a look, taking in her attire. “Well, that’s the thing. Nothing can protect you from everything, and as soon as an antivirus program has a patch to catch a virus or other malware on your computer, more are created that slip through.”

  “Great. That’s just great,” Kate added, sounding annoyed.

  Walker could understand, to a point. He held out his hand, and Kate took it, stepping beside him. Of course Kruso didn’t miss the gesture. “So her computer has a virus. What does that have to do with Cindy, the IT gal stalking Ryder Connelly?”

  “It means that someone put a virus on my computer, hacked into it, and has my information,” Kate said. “Am I not correct, Detective? I assume you know who did it, too.”

  He wondered for a minute whether Kate was going to ramble on again. Good God, she was so outspoken, but he was also starting to realize she wasn’t just a woman with a pair of breasts to die for, killer curves, and long legs that wrapped around him and held on while he drove into her. She was smart.

  “You’re right,” Kruso said. “It appears that someone has been watching everything you’ve done. We’ve had trouble tracing it back, but crime lab did. Whoever did it is good, but we’re better. And Ms. Cindy Schmidt has been watching you, reading your emails. She most likely has the same virus on Ryder Connelly’s computer. It just happened you were the one he was in contact with.”

  “So that’s how she knew I was meeting Ryder for dinner. She planned that little drive through.” Kate was squeezing his hand, but if he hadn’t been holding it, he never would have known she was trembling. It was so subtle, and now he knew how truly scared she was. She was good at hiding her feelings, but he was getting better at reading her. The body never lied, and Kate’s sure as hell didn’t.

  “Well, let’s get on over to Ryder Connelly’s and see what’s going on,” Walker said.

  “Great, I’ll get my shoes.” Kate pulled away, starting for the stairs.

  “Wait!” he snapped. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What? Of course I am,” Kate said, and he could tell she was ready to argue, so he started toward her.

  “No, you’re staying here, where I know you’ll be safe. I’m going to a crime scene. You’re not coming.” He stepped closer, putting his hands on the finest ass he’d ever seen. “Go get in bed, and wait for me there.”

  The flicker of heat in her eyes was enough to make his jeans feel tight and damn uncomfortable, but she leaned in and kissed him, then turned and started up the steps, flicking him a heated look that had him wanting nothing more than to follow her upstairs and sate his desire.

  “Smooth there, Walker,” Kruso said. “Maybe you want to go tie her to your bed before we leave.”

  He turned to Kruso, who smiled innocently. “She’s not coming,” he said, jamming his feet into his shoes and grabbing his leather jacket from the back of the sofa.

  “Maybe not right now.”

  “Good God, you’ve got a dirty mind.” He grabbed the front door and ripped it open. “Let’s go,” he said as Kruso followed, laughing softly.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  Ryder Connelly lived in an upscale condo in downtown Portland: two bedrooms, a view to die for, tastefully decorated in blues and greens. Everything was modern, new, and expensive, including the chef’s open kitchen, which, in Walker’s opinion, was far too neat for a single man. It was, in fact, the only room in the house left untouched by whoever had trashed the place.

  Two uniformed officers were there, taking Ryder’s statement, when Walker arrived with Kruso. By his last glance at his watch, it was 4:10 a.m.

  “Whoever was here didn’t like him very much,” Kruso said, snapping on a pair of gloves.

  Walker pulled a pair of latex gloves from his coat pocket and snapped them on, as well, though he preferred to be by himself when taking in a scene. At times, he could almost picture what was going through the perp’s head, what had driven them to do what they’d done.

  CHEATER was painted across what looked like a really ugly expensive painting. HATE YOU, FRAUD, DIRTY DOG, SUFFER, and then it was as if someone had taken a butcher knife over the leather grain sofa, the stuffing pulled out. Such a waste. In the master bedroom, the king-size bed had been slashed, as well, the bedding ripped and shredded. Feathers from the torn pillows filled the room.

  “Wow, someone did not like him.” Kruso was behind him and walking through the room. “Look at the clothes in the closet. It looks like someone cut all his pants to make them shorter.”

  Walker watched as Kruso picked up a pile of material scattered all over the floor. “Not just making a mess, this is personal. Someone really hates him,” he said.

  “Why cut up every one of his pants to make them too short?”

  “To piss him off, is my guess. Slick out there seems pretty stylish. Would think this would get to him. This is someone who’s really angry with him,” he added, walking into th
e bathroom and taking in the mess. He didn’t know why, but he picked up the shampoo bottle and took a whiff as he unscrewed it. “Shit! Acid,” he said. He put the bottle back and started back out. He spotted a crime scene tech coming in, wearing a dark jacket and gloves. “Hey, go through this bathroom,” he told her. “Bet you some of these containers have been swapped out. There’s acid in the shampoo. Whoever did this wanted to really hurt this guy. This is personal.”

  There was something about this vandalism that just didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t anything he could put his finger on right now. He walked out into the dining area, where floor-to-ceiling windows made up the one wall that gave this condo a million-dollar view. Ryder was pacing like a mad man, furious as he spoke to the cops.

  “I want her arrested!” He started toward Walker, his fists clenched as if ready to punch something, angry as all hell.

  “We don’t know yet that it was her,” Walker said. “We’ll dust for prints. I’d like to know how she got in. There are no signs of a break and enter, and that lock is clean. Cindy ever been here?”

  Ryder crossed his arms and stared at him. “No, I was still living with my wife when we hooked up.” The man didn’t say anything else but appeared shamed. This was the kind of thing that ate away at people.

  “Tell me again where you met her,” Walker said, because he’d read the report. The guy had put up a profile on a dating site, looking for casual sex, and had been answered by this Cindy. He’d never said he was married, just not looking for a commitment. Met her at a bar, had some drinks, and then had sex.

  “I told you already: online. She wanted to meet me, no strings, just sex. It was great until after, and then it felt like crap.”

  “So where did you meet up? Her place, hotel, where?”

  Ryder wiped around his mouth. Man, did he look uncomfortable. “My wife was away at her sister’s with the baby and our older daughter. I took Cindy to my place.”

  Walker wondered whether Slick had ever figured out how stupid that was. “So you brought a strange woman home to your house while your wife and children were away and did her in the bed you share with your wife.”

  Ryder Connelly had the good grace, at least, to blush. Walker was no saint, but he knew you never brought another woman into your wife’s bed. It seemed so skanky.

  “If I could go back and undo a lot of things, I would,” Ryder said. “But I can’t. All I can say in my defense is that it was a huge lapse in judgement on my part.”

  Stupid idiot was what crossed Walker’s mind. “Hmm,” he said and looked around again. “So who else has a key to this place?”

  Ryder was shaking his head. “Management, cleaning lady, my sister—my wife,” he said.

  “You’re married and still went out on a date?” Walker said. He was really pissed that this jerk had done that to Kate. Not that this guy was ever going to get within ten feet of Kate again, but it still pissed him off that she had been tricked by him.

  “Sorry, old habit. My ex-wife. We’re divorced,” he said, but Walker could tell he wished that wasn’t the way it was.

  “I’ve just got to ask. Why Kate?” he asked.

  The man looked at him for a moment, confused. “Who?”

  “Seriously, dude?” Walker laughed, but he wasn’t amused. Kate would have been just another notch on this man’s bedpost.

  “Walker!” Kruso called out. He turned to see her hurrying from the bedroom, holding a red notebook in her hand. “Found it under the mattress. Read this.”

  “Hey, that’s not mine,” Ryder said, sounding defensive.

  Walker took the small lined book and read a handwritten entry: “Kill Kate.” He glanced up at Ryder, who read the words, and his face paled. He raised his hands in defense, walking backward.

  “No, no, that’s not mine. That’s not even my writing.” He was freaking out, and an officer put a hand on his shoulder. He swung back his arm to brush him off. Bad move. In the next second, Ryder was on the ground, face digging into the carpet, and cuffed.

  Walker was already on his way to the front door. “Kruso!” he yelled, then caught the keys in midair.

  “Go!” was all she said.

  Walker was out the door.

  ***

  Chapter 15

  She was having the most delicious erotic dream. She was sweaty and couldn’t move a muscle in her body after her most mind-blowing orgasm yet. Walker was amazing. Did that man know how to touch her, how to love her—no, fuck her, she had to remind herself.

  She heard a noise and blinked, turning to the bedside clock in the darkened bedroom. It took her a moment to remember she was in Walker’s bedroom, in his bed, and her body ached. She needed him again.

  She heard a noise again from downstairs and smiled as she realized Walker was back. She couldn’t wait to touch him, and she had plans of going down on him, taking him into her mouth. Maybe she’d have him begging her. She licked her lips in anticipation as she waited for him to start up the stairs, and still there was nothing.

  “Walker,” she called out.

  He didn’t answer, so she slid back the quilt, slipped her bare legs over the side, and stood up naked. She’d felt so naughty as she slipped into bed with nothing on. There was something about being skin to skin with nothing between her and Walker that seemed so bad and so right. Sex with Walker, on a scale of one to ten, was a two hundred. It was mind blowing, amazing, and she didn’t want it to end.

  She started to the top of the darkened stairs and stared down into darkness. Then she wondered for a minute about pulling on one of his tshirts, but she smiled as she thought of greeting him with not a stitch on—maybe testing out the pool table downstairs. She started down the stairs, seeing a light coming from the kitchen. Maybe he hadn’t heard her as she walked down the stairs, each step creaking as loud as the next.

  “Walker,” she called out again. Then she heard a rattle from the kitchen. She stopped on the last step, waiting for him to appear, but there was nothing. “What the heck?” she said, wondering why he wasn’t answering.

  She was shivering now, wishing she’d pulled on a shirt, something, and at the same time thinking maybe he was having second thoughts about her being there. It would be a horrible loss, and she hoped he wasn’t the type. At the same time, because of all her past failures, she feared that maybe, in fact, he was. She crossed her arms over her breasts as she stepped off the last step and started into the kitchen. The light was bright in the small walk through, a couple of empty beer bottles on the counter, a soda can with them, a bag of Doritos opened with a few chips spilling out.

  But no Walker.

  “Walker, what’s going on?” she called out louder, listening to a creak on the stairs and then footsteps going up. She stopped and walked over to the stairs, listening. Was he mad at her? Did he want her to leave? Damn prickly man. She started back up the stairs, her pride taking a hammering.

  “Walker, you know what? I’m so done with guys treating me like crap. I don’t know what’s going on with you and what bug you’ve got shoved so far up your ass right now—” She stopped in the doorway of the bedroom.

  The bedside light was on, but it was the steel knife held by a woman dressed in black tights and a hoodie that had her freezing for what felt like forever before she could grab a breath and scream.

  ***

  Chapter 16

  He heard the scream from outside as he jumped out of Kruso’s small white compact. His hand was at his waist, pulling his sidearm from the holster. He flicked the safety as he ran up the steps and opened the front door.

  “Kate!” he yelled as the front door crashed against the wall. He stepped inside, looking right and left, taking in everything, from the light on in the kitchen to the darkened stairs, all in a split second. There was no one, nothing, and all he could hear was his heart hammering in his chest.

  “Kate, you answer me right now!” he yelled.

  He heard crying. “Walker!” she called out, and damn if she d
idn’t sound scared—no, terrified.

  “Where are you, Kate?” He was walking in, his arm out, his stance all cop, ready to fire as he cleared the entry, the doorway to the kitchen. His back to the wall, looking up, he could hear Kate crying, then another voice he couldn’t make out. He was almost to the stairs and flicked on the light behind him, lighting up the living room and the dining area, where the pool table was. He was pointing his gun, looking around the corner. Nothing, no one.

  He stepped on the first stair and looked up to a silhouette. It was Kate, naked, with a knife to her throat and what looked like a woman behind her. He couldn’t see her face. She was hiding behind Kate.

  “Kate, are you okay, baby?” he called out rather sharply.

  “Walker, help me,” she whispered.

  He could see the fear in her eyes. “Hey, put the knife down and move away from her—now!” he shouted, taking another step up carefully, his gun pointed just off to Kate’s right. But whoever it was had no intention of dropping the knife, as she pressed it harder to Kate’s throat. Kate gasped, and a drop of blood appeared. Her fingers scraped and clawed at the woman’s wrist in panic.

  “Okay, okay, just calm down!” Walker said. “Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t hurt her. What is it you want? Just tell me!” He was freaking out and so close to losing it. For the first time, his hand was shaking on his gun. That wasn’t him, he was always the steady one, but right now the thought of watching this crazy person slit Kate’s throat was making him lose the ability to function.

  “Cindy, it’s not going to end like this,” he said. “Just put the knife down, and we’ll talk. Kate isn’t interested in Ryder. She’s with me. She’s in my house, waiting for me.” He was trying to think of anything he could to reason with this crazy person. Why wasn’t she answering? She just stood there. The look in Kate’s eyes, the expression on her face, was trying to tell him something, but he just couldn’t figure out what it was. He could hear sirens in the background, coming closer, but he feared backup would come too late.