Midnight Rain

by Dee Davis

  “She came in at the end of the interview. D’Angelo is the one who asked her to stay. What was I going to do, argue with him?” He leaned back against the cushions, the pounding ratcheting up another level. “Besides, she’s on our side.”

  “Maybe.” Danny didn’t sound convinced. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have her checked out. If she’s on the level, it won’t matter. So tell me what you know about her.”

  The truth was, he didn’t know all that much. Bits and pieces. “She came here from Boston. Followed a boyfriend.”

  Danny raised his eyebrows. “He still in the picture?”

  “No. She just stayed for the job.”

  “Well, that’s something we can check out. What else do you know?”

  “Her mother died of cancer. Her father is in security, I think. And she has two brothers.”

  Danny frowned. “Lovely family picture, but that’s not likely to help. Did she say anything more specific? Where she’s from, that sort of thing.”

  Again he realized how very little she’d said. “She went to a liberal arts school. English major. Somewhere in Massachusetts. She said it was a couple of hours from Boston.” He frowned, trying to remember their conversations. “And I think she said she was from Med something. I don’t know. But it’s not far from Boston.”

  “That’s it?”

  It was John’s turn to frown. “It’s not like I was interviewing her.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t have hurt. We’ve got a lot riding on your situation resolving itself peacefully. And I, for one, think we’re better off with too much information than not enough. Especially when it concerns someone who just sort of dropped into our lives and is occupying a rather large part of your time.”

  “Fine,” he said, purposefully ignoring his brother’s pointed inference. “Do what you have to.”

  He wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of investigating Katie. But he was equally certain that there was nothing to find. Besides, once Danny got something in his head, he wasn’t likely to drop it.

  “Look, Jonathan, I doubt your Katie has anything to hide.”

  “She’s not my Katie.” His response was automatic, but even as he said it, he realized he didn’t mean it. Not on his side anyway. He did want her. More than he could say. But she’d made her thoughts on the matter perfectly clear.

  Although her body had certainly been singing a different tune.

  Which just might mean there was hope after all.

  Jason stood in the hallway, listening to the quiet. A building had a way of breathing. Almost as if it had its own life. He’d always been able to sense things. Unease, disquiet. But now everything seemed absurdly normal. Guardian’s employees were gone for the day. Nestled safely in their little beds.

  All except the janitor. Light from a doorway at the end of the hall cut a swath across the floor, the sound of the vacuum cleaner white noise. Cover.

  Just what he needed.

  With a last look over his shoulder, Jason walked into Derek Miller’s office. The light from the window cast an eerie glow over the room, and despite himself, he shivered. There was an energy here he didn’t like. As if someone was watching.

  He shook his head at his own foolishness. No one was here to watch, and he had more important things to do than to stand here jumping at shadows. Miller was dead, and nothing was going to bring him back. Besides, Jason didn’t believe in ghosts.

  He reached around to close the door, then crossed the room to the desk. There wasn’t much here. Certainly nothing personal. Derek hadn’t been a memento kind of guy. Most of the things here belonged to the company. But not everything.

  With a smile, he dropped down into the chair, swiveling so that he was facing the credenza. The offices at Guardian were mostly alike. Desk, chairs, computers. No frills. Economy over personality. Except for Jonathan’s office, which resembled a well-appointed suite. Of course, he wasn’t able to use it. And if things went as planned, he soon wouldn’t have an office at Guardian at all. Empty or otherwise.

  It wasn’t that Jason had anything against the man. He was decent enough. Although a bit cagey. It’s just that Jason had higher aspirations for himself, and he firmly believed in sticking with the winners. And Jonathan Brighton had ceased being a winner the minute the bullet had entered his brain.

  Frankly, if it had been Jason, he’d have wished himself dead. It was a long drop from the top, and he didn’t envy Jonathan his fall, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to go down with him. He frowned, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand. The last time he’d tried this, Jonathan had barged in, spoiling everything. And since then, it seemed that someone was always skulking about. Morbid sons of bitches.

  But this time he was all alone. He’d made sure of it. At this hour, he was fairly certain that no one would interrupt. With another cautious look at the door, he reached for the lamp on the credenza and flipped the switch.

  Soft yellow light washed across the polished wood, spilling onto the desk. The credenza was a heavily carved affair. The only piece in the room that had actually belonged to Miller. Jason reached under the upper edge, his fingers searching for the tiny indentations. If he hadn’t known what to look for, they wouldn’t have been noticeable at all.

  His fingers found the slots and he pressed sharply, a satisfying click signaling he’d hit pay dirt. The left third of the credenza popped open, revealing a drawer. He reached for the handle, and was starting to pull it open when a noise outside in the corridor stopped him short.

  Fumbling to close the opening, he just managed to get it shut when the door swung wide.

  The older man in the doorway squinted into the light. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.”

  Jason forced a smile, his heart slamming in his throat. “I’m almost finished. Maybe you could come back in half an hour?”

  The janitor shrugged. “Not a problem. Have a good evening, Mr. Pollock.”

  Shit. The bastard knew his name. He upped the wattage on his smile. “You, too, . . .” He struggled to remember the man’s name. Nothing came. He’d never been good at names.

  The man waited a beat, and then turned to go, mumbling something foreign beneath his breath.

  As soon as the door closed Jason turned back to the credenza. His hands were shaking and his first attempt to reopen the secret compartment failed. He cursed softly and tried again. This time the compartment sprang open, once more exposing the little drawer. Almost home. Just a few more minutes and his ties to Derek Miller would be history.

  With a frustrated yank, he pulled the drawer open, his eyes widening in disbelief.

  The drawer was empty.

  Chapter 13

  Katie lay back against the pillows of her bed, and closed the book she’d been trying to read. A comfort thing. A connection to reality. Her reality. But tonight even Thunder on the Right wasn’t going to do it. She rolled onto her side, and put the book on the night-stand.

  Maybe if she closed the curtains.

  She crossed the room, stopping at the window to stare out at the glare of the city. It was a familiar glow. Yellows and blues, neon and fluorescent, blending together into a single heartbeat. In some ways all down-towns were similar. Especially at night.

  She twisted the latch and lifted the sash, the window groaning in protest. Obviously John wasn’t a fan of fresh air. The rush of the warm breeze across her face was almost enough to convince her to close the window again, but the lure of the night was more intoxicating.

  The whisper of traffic below her provided an undernote to the other sounds of nighttime activity. The wail of a trumpet, laughing voices, a staccato backfire as base note. The symphony of the city. She rolled her eyes at her own ridiculous ramblings. It was probably best for everyone that she didn’t quit her day job.

  Although that seemed to be the case in point. She hadn’t accomplished anything. Except getting too close to the accused. Which was what she was supposed to do, and yet it wasn’t. Somehow
she’d crossed the line from a charade to reality and missed the transition altogether. Well, maybe not altogether.

  She shivered, the remembered feel of his hand on her breast making her nipples tighten with need. She was in over her head, and she hadn’t a clue what to do about it. If she’d been anywhere but here, she could have discussed it with her superior. Maybe even found a way out. But Roswell wasn’t a discussing kind of guy, and he was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to send her packing.

  And she wasn’t going to let that happen. She wasn’t about to let Roswell win. It just wasn’t in her nature. She was tempted to call her father. But aside from the fact that it was bad karma to mix real world with undercover illusion, she was pretty sure she already knew what he’d say.

  Patrick Cavanaugh was a stickler for honor. He came by it naturally. Three generations of policemen before him. One of them, her great-grandfather, had even been the head of Boston’s finest.

  “Honor and duty, Katie girl.” That’s what he’d say.

  But where did honor lay? With the job? Or with John? The job seemed the obvious choice. And if she had any intention of keeping said job, it was the only choice. She’d already been labeled a maverick, letting herself get involved with a suspect might just seal that fate.

  Still, just the thought of him sent white-hot sparks coarsing through her. She closed the window, shutting out the sultry heat. Maybe a shower. A nice cold shower.

  The idea held a certain appeal.

  “You’re awake.” His voice washed through the room, reaching out to stroke gently down her spine.

  She shivered, turning to face him, his name coming out on a throaty whisper. Almost inaudible.

  But he heard her, his slow smile an answer to the invitation in her voice. Like the night before he was clad only in sweats, the soft cotton clinging to the long lines of his legs, the light from the window illuminating him with mouthwatering clarity.

  “I couldn’t sleep.” He held out one hand in a gesture of submission. “I know I probably shouldn’t be here, but—” He broke off, the uncertainty in his face heartrending.

  She knew suddenly that the rest of it didn’t matter. All that was important was standing here in this room. It didn’t make sense, and it certainly wasn’t practical, but she cared about him in some fundamental way that she couldn’t really define.

  But then, definitions weren’t all that important, were they?

  Sometimes it was more important to live for the moment. And he needed her. Really needed her. And she couldn’t remember the last time someone had wanted her in that way.

  She took a step forward, surprised to find that she was nervous. “I’m glad you came.”

  And she was. To the very depths of her soul. Despite everything, she wanted him here, and the thought thrilled her and confused her all at the same time. She’d obviously taken leave of her senses, but just at the moment, she didn’t care.

  He moved then, his gait slow, but steady. If it was true that still waters ran deep, then John was fathomless. He reached her side, his gaze holding hers, the question there making her breath catch in her throat.

  He opened his mouth to speak, and she covered his lips with a finger, unwilling to break the spell. She wanted him and he wanted her, and for the moment that was all that mattered. They could face the rest of it tomorrow. When the magic of the night had faded away.

  There would be consequences, but she was more than willing to pay the price.

  His good arm encircled her waist, drawing her close. Heart to heart. With a groan that was an echo of her own, he bent to kiss her, his lips hard against hers. Her mouth parted and their tongues met, circling, tasting, each possessing the other. She ran her fingers through his hair, the feel of it crisp between her fingertips.

  He stilled instantly, and as her hand touched the ridge of scar tissue above his ear, she realized her mistake. He pulled back, his eyes searching hers, the pain reflected there bringing tears to her eyes.

  “It’s all right.” Deliberately she stroked the scar, her fingers gentle. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not when you touch it.” He reached up to cover her hand, his gaze still locked with hers. “I don’t know if I can do this, Katie.”

  “But you want to.” She held her breath, waiting for his answer, suddenly feeling unsure of herself.

  His answering smile sent hot trails of fire curling through her. “Oh yeah, I want to.”

  “Then don’t let anything stop you.”

  He answered with another kiss, his lips exploring hers, almost as if he were memorizing them. She traced the line of his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers. He was strong in ways beyond the physical. It was one of the things she loved about him.

  The thought drew her up short, and she almost pulled away, but his hand found her breast beneath the silky satin of her nightshirt and with a tiny moan she pressed against him, all rational thought fading away against the power of his touch.

  His thumb rasped against her nipple, sending shards of pleasure dancing through her, and she deepened their kiss, breathing in his essence, holding it deep inside her. His hand moved lower, caressing the skin of her abdomen, soothing and exciting her with one touch.

  His lips moved, too, following the hollow of her cheek until he reached her ear, his tongue sending more fire rippling through her as he traced the curve of its shell, his teeth toying with her earlobe, moist and hot against her skin.

  His head dropped lower, his mouth trailing along the line of her shoulder, his kisses teasing in their simplicity, his hand continuing to move across her skin. His mouth found the crest of her breast, his teeth grazing against her nipple, the hot, sweet suction tantalizing with its promise of things to come.

  Urgency built within her. The need for something more. For connection, belonging. The part of her she kept locked away clamoring for release.

  With a gentle tug, she pulled him toward the bed, waiting for him to sit, shivering at the intensity in his dark eyes. She knelt before him, undulating to a rhythm in her head, and slowly unbuttoned the buttons on her nightshirt, each in turn, top to bottom, her eyes never leaving his.

  Then with a shy smile, she pushed the nightshirt off her shoulders, letting it fall around her in a pool of pale green satin. Naked now, she knelt before him, praying that he’d still want her. That he wouldn’t be disappointed.

  His gaze raked across her, sending gooseflesh rippling along her skin. With his good hand he reached out to trace the puckered redness of her scar. She held her breath, waiting.

  “War wound?” There was a gentle teasing in his voice. Acceptance. Her heart swelled.

  “Car accident.” The lie was bitter, but now was not the time for confession.

  With a swiftness that belied his own injuries, he closed his arms around her, the contact of her breasts against his chest exquisite, velvet and leather. She closed her eyes, and opened her mouth to his kiss, drinking him in, wanting the night to last forever. Their fervor increased, each touch, each movement raising the stakes, heightening her pleasure.

  And his.

  Oh, please, God, let her be pleasing him.

  He pulled her down so that she was straddling him, his erection hard against her. With trembling hands, she pushed the sweats away, her breath catching at the sight of him. Fully man. Carefully easing the pants away, she lay on top of him, body to body. His sinewy strength the perfect foil for her soft curves. They fit together almost as if it had been preordained.

  And for a moment she simply reveled in the contact.

  Then her need took over. With a passion she hadn’t known she possessed, she began to taste him. All of him. The salty skin at the corners of his eyes. His beardstubbled chin. The softer skin of his neck, and the silky strength of his chest.

  She took his nipples into her mouth, caressing first one then the other with her tongue. Delighted when they responded to her touch. Moving lower, she sampled the work-hardened skin of his belly, traci
ng the line of it with her tongue.

  And finally, finally, her lips found the velvety heat of his manhood. She ran her tongue along its length, pleased to feel him tense in pleasure, his hand stroking her hair, urging her onward. With a smile, she took him into her mouth, laving him, sucking him, loving him.

  She felt him grow harder, even as her own desire burgeoned, and then he was urging her upward until she was straddling him again, their gazes locked. There would be no turning back. She was cognizant enough to know that. This wasn’t a casual dalliance. Whatever they were in the other parts of their lives, they were about to commit to something here that would not easily be broken.

  A part of her, the rational, sane side, was screaming a warning, but the rest of her, the part that was Katie, cherished the moment. And the man.

  She raised herself slowly, and still holding his gaze, impaled herself on him, the pure pleasure of it threatening to shatter her into pieces.

  As if he knew her thoughts, he reached for her, his hands, both of them, settling against her hips. Warm and real. Strong. Whole. And together, they began to dance. Up and down, in and out. Each stroke taking them higher, until she could no longer tell where he ended and she began.

  She closed her eyes, letting sensation carry her away. Aware of only the feel of him inside her, filling her, holding her, binding them together with every stroke.

  And then there was nothing but the warmth of his touch and light in his eyes, her own joy reflected in the dark mirror of his gaze.

  The simple truth was that there were more bills than he could afford to pay. Frank looked at the innocent-looking piles of envelopes. They had the power to topple his world. House payment, car payment, country club, housekeeper. A life suited for the head of a corporation, not a mid-level programmer. But Jessica liked creature comforts, and more importantly, she liked status.

  If he couldn’t give her the latter, at least he could provide the former. Except even that was a lie. He’d maxed out the credit cards long ago, and their home already had a second mortgage. Sooner or later Jessica was bound to find out.