by Lucy Farago
“You did that with me. You slept with me and realized the next day it might come back and bite that sexy ass of yours,” he said, his smile rueful.
“I barely know you.” She pulled out of his arms. “So if you’re going to complain about my behavior, then you’ll have to include what happened between us.”
Christian had the strange urgency to shelter Maggie, to keep her in his arms forever. It should have made him want to run. He reminded himself he’d been paid countless times to be the hero. He told himself she was vital to his case, the key, or at the very least her father was. All this was true, but not the reason behind his insane need to protect her. The reasons had more to do with this vulnerable beauty than wiping a killer off the face of this earth. Brushing those feelings aside, he listened to Maggie, knowing this might draw them closer together and unable to walk away.
He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but she stayed silent. He considered pushing but uncertain if he wanted to hear the rest, he let her break the silence.
“I don’t sleep around. I can count on one hand how many lovers I’ve had. But I let what happened with Hannah cloud my better judgment. And you were the first person to never judge me. Plus, for good reasons of your own, you understood my need to get Hannah out.”
“Are you saying I was a mistake?” he asked, the very idea stinging his ego. At least, that’s what he told himself.
She regarded him, taking the time to answer his question. It made him nervous.
“No, not a mistake.” She leaned in and kissed him. “I’m just explaining why I was so frazzled that morning. I’d gone and done it again and I had no idea what was going to happen afterward. But honestly, I don’t regret what happened. When this is over, we’ll go back to our separate lives. I can focus on the other girls and you … You, what?”
She smiled so sweetly, he knew what she was asking. And she’d just handed him a way out, to end this “what happens to us after this is over” conversation. Was there an us? Because this wasn’t a one-night stand. Not if he had his way. But the reality was, he had no answers. She was right. They had their own separate lives. Lives that didn’t include each other. Couldn’t include each other, for both their sakes. He was saved from further girlie emotions by his phone.
He considered manning up and not answering, but seeing Maggie’s gaze dart to his suit pocket, he figured she wouldn’t let him.
He kissed her, wishing like hell kissing wasn’t all they were doing, then reached for his cell.
“Beck?” The caller hadn’t waited for a hello.
“Lieutenant?”
“Is Maggie with you?” The question was hurried—too much so.
“Yes,” he replied, eyeing Maggie. “Why?” The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
“Have you been with her all evening? Is she all right?”
“Yes and yes. What’s going on?”
Maggie’s hand touched his arm. He wanted desperately for this not to be bad news.
Cooper’s heavy sigh carried over the line. “Don’t let her out of your sight, you hear me?”
“Cooper,” he growled, impatient to hear the news.
“Have you seen the white truck?” he asked, impervious to Christian’s irritation.
“Not since about five. Why?”
“He’s struck again.”
Christian heard a crack, felt a sharp pain in his palm. He looked down at the sound of glass striking concrete. In his hands the remains of his wine glass.
While he’d been thinking with his dick, the bastard had killed again.
Chapter Twenty
“Can’t you drive faster? You should’ve let me drive.” Maggie scowled at Christian and he may have been intimidated, except pissed off women were his specialty.
Thankful for the seatbelt harnessing her into the bucket seat, he was sure she’d have rocked herself into a frenzy otherwise. “We want to get there in one piece.”
“You drive like an old man,” she complained, ignoring his reasoning. “I’ll pay for the speeding ticket,” she added as a bribe.
Looking at the speedometer, he didn’t consider eighty an old man’s speed. Obliging her, he accelerated to ninety.
Inside the hospital Cooper waited. Hands in his gray, rumpled suit’s pockets, he stared at the vinyl floor, stained from a busy night in the emergency room.
“Any change?” Maggie called out from down the hall. “Where is she?”
“Surgery. Has been for the last two hours. Internal bleeding.”
Maggie drew back, ran a hand through hair and spun in an impatient circle, like a dog chasing her tail. “Damn, damn, damn. What was she doing alone?”
“She’s alive. She’s like you, a survivor.” Cooper drew her into his beefy arms, and whispered into her ear. Whatever he said seemed to work. Maggie closed her eyes and the corners of her lips twitched in a faint smile.
An ugly stab of jealousy sucker-punched Christian. No point in denying it. Although stupid to be jealous, he couldn’t help it. Damn it, he wanted to be the one to make everything better. Considering he told Ryan his next assignment better not have a pulse, it was odd. Conceding this round to Cooper, Christian promised himself the next and final bout would be his.
Seeing the strained, unanswered question on Maggie’s face, Christian spared her the effort it was taking for her to ask. Standing behind her, he took her shoulders and held Maggie against his chest, ready to wrap his arms around her if that’s what she needed.
“Was she raped?” he asked, then felt corded muscles ripple beneath his hands as she tensed.
“No,” Cooper said.
Maggie shuddered with the release of her breath. She buried her face in her hands, “Thank God,” she muttered. “What happened?”
“We’re not completely sure. An elderly couple found her in an alley off Jarvis St.” He pulled out his notepad, flipped a few pages and read, “Four blocks south of Windsor. She’d been run over. At first they thought it had been a hit and run, that somehow she’d been struck so hard her body ended up in the alley.”
“What makes you think it was the killer?” Christian asked.
Cooper hesitated, staring at Maggie, then at Christian, and back at Maggie. If reluctant to say any more in front of her, he opted for full disclosure. “She was slashed behind her neck. Hard to miss. It was sloppy, and deeper than the rest. If luck is on our side,” Cooper said, “he’ll think he killed her.”
Maggie and Christian exchanged confused expressions.
“She was unconscious when they found her, barely breathing. Maybe he left her for dead.”
“This attack doesn’t fit the pattern,” Christian said. “He’s never killed them on the streets, or ran them over. And always raped them. Maybe she jumped out of his car and was hit by oncoming traffic. Bad timing on her part?”
Cooper rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “She was hit in front of the alley and the tire marks are erratic, so we might have gone with that theory, had her neck not been mutilated. It makes no sense.”
“What about the marks on her neck?” Maggie asked.
“All the coroner’s reports concur, always post-mortem. This doesn’t fit either. I don’t think he intended Rhonda to be his next victim. She doesn’t fit. She’s what, thirty, thirty-two?
“Twenty-eight,” Maggie corrected.
“Twenty-eight?” Christian repeated. She looked older. “Okay, still his oldest victim yet.”
“Survivor,” she corrected sharply, and took a seat in the waiting room.
“Something’s not right,” Christian said. He went to sit with Maggie, but Cooper touched his arm, holding him back.
“I hear you and if not for the slashes on her neck … listen,” he snuck a peek at Maggie, making sure she was distracted with her thoughts. “You saw Desilva. You never told me how it went.”
“The guy’s a number-one sleazeball.”
“So tell me something I don’t know.”
“Did you know he h
as a connection to JJ Sorrentino?”
From the man’s wide-eyed expression, he didn’t. “What kind of connection?”
“I’m going to say diamonds. I busted Sorrentino about ten years ago for abduction and prostitution. The agency had also hoped to end his diamond smuggling. We knew he had them, but when the bust went down the diamonds had vanished.
“We found stones with Desilva,” said Cooper. “You think they belonged to Sorrentino? Desilva was working for the mob? There’s no evidence to prove that. What’s any of that got to do with Maggie?”
“Maybe nothing, but Sorrentino got out of jail last March.”
“Okay, I get it. Samantha Wiseman died in March, but you’re grasping at seven degrees of separation here. Sorrentino would have and could have ordered a hit from jail.” Cooper glanced over at Maggie, who was in the middle of abusing a magazine, the sound of each page she slapped over, filling the waiting room. “If Maggie fucking with Desilva screwed him up, then why wait five years to take revenge?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
Maybe he did have nothing. If Cooper hadn’t brought it up, Christian wouldn’t have said anything. Quite frankly, the killer targeting Maggie for her connection to her father made more sense. Still, he wasn’t ready to rule anything out.
An hour later, Maggie paced the small waiting area like a caged cat.
“What’s taking them so long?”
“Patience, Maggie,” Christian said just as a doctor emerged, and from the glare she shot his way, most likely saving Christian from a bloody nose.
From the bags under his eyes and strained lines on his face, it wasn’t hard to figure out this guy was at the end of a long shift.
“Lieutenant,” he sighed, “that’s one lucky woman.” He eyed Christian and Maggie speculatively, but after a nod from Cooper, continued his report. “Three cracked ribs, a punctured lung and ruptured spleen. We managed to save her kidney, but it was touch and go. She’ll be out for a while. I’ll let you know when she wakes up.”
“But she’ll wake up, right?” Maggie stared at the doctor. “Right?” she repeated when he said nothing.
“Her vitals are good, and she’s healthy. Those are both positives. If you’ll excuse me I have a report to write.” He smiled encouragingly and left.
“Maggie?” Christian tucked a stray hair behind her ear, concerned by her sudden silence.
“She was on her way to see me.”
“You don’t know that.” For all they knew the killer had dumped her there.
“Jarvis is two blocks away. Shannon must have told her where I was.”
“Why would Shannon do that?” Why put Maggie at risk?
“Rhonda’s like the fifth musketeer. She’s my only dancer who isn’t intimidated by my friends. She and Shannon even went to Disney one year. They all trust Rhonda, as do I. We’ll need to call Shannon. How many?” she asked no one in particular. “How many women are dead because of their association with me?”
“We’ve been over this. It’s not your fault.”
“Maggie, Beck is right. You’re not responsible for this psycho’s behavior.”
“Women are dying. I got into this to save them, not make them targets.”
Christian didn’t like where she was going with this. She was tired and needed sleep. “Let me take you back to Shannon’s. I’ll bring you back in the morning, when Rhonda wakes up.”
Maggie opened her mouth for what was sure to be an argument. The lieutenant interjected.
“Maggie, she’ll want to see you and you know what a bloodhound she is. You’ll only upset her if she thinks you’re all in knots. Go home, get some rest. For her sake, and yours.”
In the car, Maggie put in a call to Shannon, whose answer surprised her. Rhonda had wanted to tell her something about Beck. Apparently “she’d figured it out” and was too excited to see the expression on Maggie’s face to wait. Since it was the press they were trying to avoid, Shannon hadn’t seen the harm in letting Rhonda know they’d switched places, and Maggie had to assure her Rhonda would have figured it out eventually.
Now, standing by the elevator, she regarded the all-too-handsome man waiting with her. All her unanswered questions didn’t stop the urge to wrap her arms around him. More than ever, she needed him. That terrified her on all kinds of levels. Because when this was over, and she had to believe it would be, had to believe he’d keep his promise and find this monster, then where would she be? Where would Beck be? How much more screwed up would her life be?
“So, what had Rhonda figured out?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” He seemed just as puzzled.
“She once said you looked familiar. Maybe she remembered you, so why couldn’t it wait until morning? You heard Shannon. Rhonda was like the cat that ate the canary.”
The elevator stopped and he took the keys from her hand. Outside, he paused enough to make Maggie reconsider believing him. “Something wrong?” she asked.
“No … nothing,” he said, turning the key and opening the door.
Her old street sense kicked in. He was lying. And nervous. Rhonda wouldn’t have kept Shannon in the dark if she thought the information really important. So what had she remembered that made Beck uneasy? She didn’t think anything could turn his cart over.
He led the way into the apartment. Maggie didn’t miss the way he listened, his eyes scanning the room for an intruder. “Stay here for a minute, okay?”
She grabbed his arm, her heart skipping a beat. “Beck?” Had he seen something she hadn’t?
He kissed her cheek. “Just making sure. Now stay put.”
Watching him go through the apartment, she ignored the cold shiver running down her back. Was she going to be next? Stop it. Shannon had chosen this place because of the security. No one could get in here. It was, however, the longest few minutes of her life.
He returned with an encouraging smile and a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”
No, she did that all on her own, and it was time she put on her big girl panties. “I appreciate you being cautious.” She returned his smile.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said and wrapped his strong arms around her.
Yes, his arms were strong, his embrace secure, but it was past time for answers. If she’d figured out ICU correctly, then he wasn’t going to be around forever. Whatever feelings she may have for him and regardless of the chemistry between them, he was here to do a job, one that wouldn’t allow him to stick around. So better to know now than after she fell in love with him. If it wasn’t already too late.
She reminded herself that knowledge is power. “How does Rhonda know you?”
Beck shrugged. “Rhonda and I don’t exactly travel in the same circles.”
“True, she dances for men. You, what, kill them?”
“Maggie—”
“We need to finish our conversation. No more lies.”
“I haven’t lied to you,” he said.
“Half-truths then. Let’s start at the beginning,” she offered, feeling more like her old self. “You okay with that?”
He had little choice. He knew it. She knew it. He nodded.
“You were hired by Mr. Wiseman to find his daughter.”
Another nod.
“Then her killer,” Maggie added, walking into the living area.
“Maggie, the clients I work for pay me to keep my mouth shut. So even if I wanted to tell you the particulars, I couldn’t.”
“Do you trust me?” The question was unfair. This was after all his job. But she was tired. Physically and mentally tired.
He sighed. “Then her killer.”
He trusted her. What a difference from when they’d first met. “And …” She made an impatient gesture with her hand.
He drew his lower lip into his mouth, biting the corner.
Giving him time, she turned on the floor lamp by the couch, illuminating the room in muted light. “Are you
stalling because it’s illegal or because you’re worried about my good opinion of you?”
“Do you have a good opinion of me?” he asked, sounding earnest.
“That’s a dumb question. Do you think I would sleep with someone I didn’t have a high opinion of?”
“No.” He laughed softly. “I don’t believe you would.”
To help a girl or two, she’d been known to bend the law herself. She often looked the other way and had even carried an illegal firearm, until Horace tried to take it away. She registered the weapon and still had it. A lot of good it would do her if the only things she could shoot were made from paper.
“So let me help you. You find this guy and, depending on the circumstances, you either hand him to the cops or … not. Did I get it right? Just nod, Beck. This way you’re not telling me things I shouldn’t know.” When he didn’t respond, she used the voice she used on drunks, the one that told them to behave, or the next thing they touched was pavement. “Nod.”
Stiffly, he complied.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” On a roll, she decided to shelve the Rhonda question until later. Whatever he wasn’t telling her wasn’t going to hurt her, of that she was certain.
She was going to ask if his case was personal, the similarities between Samantha and his sister too coincidental. But that wasn’t what came out of her mouth.
“What happens after this? You get another case? Go looking for another missing person?”
She hadn’t said it, hadn’t said What happens to us?, but his wide-eyed expression said he knew exactly what she hadn’t asked. The real question was, did she really want the answer? This was ridiculous. He’d made only one promise, to catch the killer. She either enjoyed the time they had left or … nothing. It was time to retreat. “Of course you get another case. That was a dumb question.”
Unfortunately, the pitying look he gave her said more than any answer could. “Maggie.”
Embarrassed and mad at him for thinking he needed to feel sorry for her, the masochist that her friends continually accused her of being took over her mouth. “This is a job for you. I get that. But I’m what? A perk?” She needed to shut up. This was supposed to be about him, not their short-lived affair. But the cat was out of the proverbial bag, with Maggie yanking on poor kitty’s tail.