by Mary Burton
“The photos show remnants of heavy makeup. The remaining coloring reminds me of a doll. Pale skin, red lips. The pictures prove Kara didn’t wear any makeup to the party. The fact that makeup was on her face makes no sense. Especially considering she’d been missing five days.”
Puzzle pieces snapped into place. “Someone else applied it.”
“That’s what I think.” Her fingers gripped the edges of the file tighter. “I think someone kept her drugged and sedated her like Diane.”
“The killer wasn’t planning to take her,” he said, letting the theory take shape. “He used what he had at the time. Barbiturates and face paint. And he overdosed either by accident or intentionally.” The end result was the same. His sister was dead.
She opened the file and rustled through the papers. “I also discovered the medical examiner found DNA on her. At the time, it didn’t match anyone in the system, but that was twelve years ago. The science is more refined now. Long story short, I’ve requested retesting, and I’ve also asked the DNA be cross-checked against the DNA found on Diane Richardson and Terrance Dillon.”
Sharp rose and paced the room. He stared at her, not trusting himself to speak. Answers dangled just out of reach.
She stood, set the file aside, and moved toward him. “Have you found Elena?”
“Not yet.” He flexed his fingers. “Madison dated Kara, Diane, and you.”
“He did not date me. I kind of had a crush on him, and he came by to see me several times after my accident. It was never romantic.”
“For you. You can’t speak to what he was thinking.”
“He never gave me any indication he was interested.”
“It’s a connection to all four of you. And until he’s found, I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”
“Anywhere? That’s kind of ridiculous. I mean, this is Stanford. The guy played cards and watched old movies with me while I was in a leg cast.”
“I don’t care if the fucker read bedtime stories to you every night. He knew all three victims, has professional artistic skill, and now has dumped all his work in the trash and vanished. We have no samples of his DNA yet, and until we do and can prove his innocence, you need to be on high alert.”
“Dakota—”
He captured her wrist with his hand. “You did a great job, Tessa. I listened to every word you said. Now it’s time for you to listen and let me do my job.”
She looked at his hand on her wrist. Laying her hand over his, she pulled his fingers free and took his other hand in hers. Her touch was warm. Soft. Somewhere inside him, he felt locks tumble free and a door open. Emotions raced toward the light.
“I’m going to solve this.” His voice sounded distant, hoarse.
“And then what?” she challenged.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb. After this case, we figure us out.”
How could he make a promise to her he didn’t know he could keep? He was far from perfect, but he’d never lied to her. “None of our problems will be fixed by solving this case.”
“I don’t believe that. Kara’s case is the root of it all.”
“And what if it isn’t?”
She shook her head. “Did I ever tell you I had a little crush on you when I saw you that last Christmas? I tried to get your attention, but you didn’t see me.”
“I saw you.”
That prompted a nervous smile. “You did a good impression of pretending you didn’t.”
“You were seventeen. Underage. And I was home on leave. And it’s not acceptable to mess with your sister’s friend.”
“It was bad timing all around.” The words carried more meaning than they should have.
“We never really got the timing right.”
“No.” He tried to pull free of her touch, but her fingers tightened around him. How much of the past would have to be exorcised for them to now have a chance?
“After seeing Diane and her face destroyed, I understand better why you’re so driven. It’s one thing to believe in monsters, but entirely another to cross paths with a real one. It’s hard to know that someone is getting away with such cruelty.”
Anger burned in his chest. He broke their connection, his fingers flexing involuntarily. “This killer isn’t getting away with it.”
She took his fist and slowly uncurled his fingers. She traced the scar slashing across his lifeline on his palm. “Despite all our differences, I know you’re good at what you do. Without you, a lot of evil would be walking free.”
He looked at her long finger with its neat, trimmed nail circling the scar. She’d been so young when they first met, but each time he saw her, he was more drawn to her. He’d never made a single pass at her. And later, after they were married and mired in turmoil, when she told him she had to leave, he’d again taken that damned high road. Didn’t fight. Didn’t argue. Accepting. Alone.
At this moment, he was tired of walking the same lonely, shitty road. Righteousness didn’t welcome him home at night or warm his bed.
He wanted her. Wanted to feel like she once made him feel. Whole.
Moving his hand over hers, he wrapped his fingers around hers, savoring the warmth. He waited for her to pull free, for any sign she didn’t want his touch. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. She simply stared into his eyes.
Sharp leaned his head forward and kissed her softly on the lips. She closed her eyes, leaning into the kiss. The sex had always been great between them, but it hadn’t been enough. Temporary glue that couldn’t withstand the storms.
But temporary was good enough right now. An urgency hummed in his veins. God, but she tasted sweet. This moment felt like a homecoming.
He released one hand, letting it roam over her shoulders and to the small of her back. He pulled her against him. He wanted her to feel him. To know just how damn much he wanted her.
Given a choice right now, he’d pull her into the bedroom, shut off the world outside, and thrust inside her until he’d exorcised all the pent-up pain begging for release.
But when his other hand slid from her hair over her neck to her breasts, she tensed. Reining in his desire, he waited.
“Don’t stop,” she said. “I want this.”
He felt the thrust of her breast into his hand. Need elbowed past worry and any kind of resolve to keep his distance, and he gently brushed her nipple, feeling it harden through her sweater.
Months and too many issues had separated them, but he remembered her body and what pressure points made her forsake common sense and drop her guard.
As he kissed her, he continued to tease the tip of her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, all the while feeling her body melting into him. She moaned his name, her breath brushing against his skin.
God, he craved her.
“Are you sure?” he asked, wondering what the hell he’d do if she said no.
“Don’t stop.” The hoarse words traveled on a whisper.
He clasped her breast, and then glided his hand along her flat belly to the top of her jeans. He slid fingers under the waistband, taking pleasure when she sucked in her breath. He opened the snap with the flick of his fingers. He traced the top line of her panties, and her belly convulsed slightly as her breath hitched.
“I’ve dreamed about this,” she whispered in his ear seconds before she nipped it with her teeth.
Screw the high road. Without another word, he pulled her toward his bedroom and backed her up toward the bed until her legs bumped against the edge. She sat and then lay back. Emotions pent up for too long raged and rushed the gates as he straddled her and pinned her arms above her head. He kissed her again, opening her lips with his tongue. She arched up toward him and captured his bottom lip gently in her teeth.
He grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head, exposing full breasts peeking over the edge of a lace bra. He cupped each breast, kissed them, and sucked the tender skin.
A small whimper escaped her lips. “Best
bad idea we’ve ever had.”
He pushed down her pants, kneeling as he slowly slid them toward her ankles. She worked out one foot as he leaned forward and kissed her at her center before sliding her panties along her legs. He ran his calloused hands up her thighs. She hissed, and he felt the urgency tightening the muscles of her legs.
He unbuckled his belt as he kicked off his shoes and then shoved off his pants. He climbed back on top of her, his erection pressing against her belly. He leaned forward and kissed her stomach, her breasts, and then her lips as he pressed the tip of his erection against her moist center. She tilted her hips, beckoning him in. Desperate to claim her, he thrust inside her. She was so damn tight.
“You okay?” he rasped as he hesitated and waited for her to adjust to him.
“Yes.”
For a moment, neither moved. He kissed her mouth and neck as her breasts rubbed against his chest. Slowly he moved in and out. Each time he thrust his hips, she opened more for him, growing wetter with each thrust.
She slid her hands to his ass and squeezed. “Harder,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and tipped her head back.
“Look at me.” His voice was sandpaper as he grabbed a handful of her long hair and pulled her head forward. This time he pushed harder, with greater urgency. “Look at me.”
She opened her eyes and held his gaze.
He moved faster and faster, and she gripped him tighter, locking her legs around his waist. The desire rushed through them both, and as her moans grew louder, he felt the shudder of her orgasm. As much as he wanted to give into the pulsing need to release, he wanted to make this moment last. He didn’t want it to end quickly. With an effort, he pulled out of her, savoring her whimper.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“That’s the last thought on my mind.”
She moistened her lips, staring at him with doe eyes hazy with desire. He pushed her legs open, baring her before him, and took her clitoris in his mouth. She arched, threading her fingers in his hair.
He knew every spot on her body. Knew where to lick, kiss, or press to take her to the brink and then pull back. He teased her. Listened as her breath quickened, and when he thought she’d come, he raised his head to her breast and sucked. Again she whimpered, and he took a devilish pleasure in knowing he could make her so hot.
She smoothed her hands up his thighs and reached for his cock. She also hadn’t forgotten how to push his buttons. When she wrapped her hands around his erection, his control slipped from his fingers.
He pulled free of her touch and pushed her legs wider. He drove into her again, this time not hesitating but pumping in and out with increasing speed. She arched, reached for her clit, and rubbed with one hand while she grabbed his ass with the other.
Jesus, she was so hot.
He rammed into her faster and faster. Her breathing grew quick and urgent until finally her body stiffened and her fingernails dug into his back as she orgasmed. He let go and came inside her, the wave shuddering violently through him.
For a moment he collapsed against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His heart hammered. Still inside her, he allowed the weight of his body to press her into the mattress. He’d fantasized about this for too long to let it go quickly. He didn’t want this to end.
Finally, she smoothed a hand over him. Her gentle touch, no doubt meant as a dreamy kindness, burned along his skin as a reminder that this moment would soon be over. They’d dress. Leave this room. And the tension and distance would return. That was something he wasn’t sure he could bear.
“Are you okay?” he asked, needing to hear her voice.
“Yes.” She moistened her lips, her expression a mixture of satiety and embarrassment. “We should talk.”
The talk. They’d used thousands of miles and silent reserve to fend it off for eight months. He sat up. “Sure. Talk.”
She scooted up into a sitting position. She looked around for her clothes and hurried across the room to retrieve them. While he sat and watched her, she scooped her sweater up off the floor and pulled it on over her head. She tugged on her pants. “We’ve got to figure it out between us.”
“What’s there to figure?” He ran a hand over his short hair.
She pushed a long lock of hair from her eyes and wound her hair into a knot that fell around her shoulders as soon as she released it. He knew she hated wearing her hair loose, but he loved touching it when it hung free around her shoulders or skimmed the top of her breasts.
“I want the stuff that happens outside this room to work,” she said.
“Why now? You didn’t want it eight months ago.”
She shook her head. “You’re getting angry.”
“I’m not.” He shoved out a breath. He at least owed her the truth. “I am angry. At myself. I rushed us into this marriage, and that was a mistake.”
“You didn’t drag me kicking and screaming. I wanted it also.”
“And you left it.”
She fisted her fingers. “Because you shut me out.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I never pretended to be anything I wasn’t.”
“You were different in the beginning. We were happy. The Anderson case changed you.”
He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t blame all this on one case. “It brought to the surface what was always there. I’ve always been driven. I like catching bad guys. And as much as I’d like to tell you I want to be different, the truth is, I like my job. I’m good at it, and I hope to be locking up scum until my last days on this earth.”
“I don’t mind the long hours, the dedication it takes, but you made me feel like a stranger in my own home.” Her voice cracked.
Her raw pain jabbed at him more than any anger she could hurl his way. He rose and crossed to his pants, yanking them over his legs. “That’s on you, not me.”
Her head dropped as if the fight abandoned her. “God, you’re so damn hard to love. Why won’t you let me just love you?”
Hearing the worry and shame in her voice stoked his frustration. He didn’t know how to be anyone else. He didn’t know how to be the person she needed. “What happened here doesn’t change who I am. You need to hear that.”
Tessa looked at him, her eyes filled with unspoken determination. “I don’t buy that. I’m convinced we’re good for each other.”
He could still taste her on his lips. Smell that damn jasmine soap on her skin. And he wanted her more now than he did minutes ago. “You might be good for me, but I’m not good for you.”
“That isn’t true. And I’ll prove it to you.” She grabbed the rest of her clothes. “This isn’t over, Dakota Sharp.”
She made it to the doorway as she scooped up her purse, then she left the front door open and the file behind.
Sharp had followed her out of the bedroom and watched as she walked with a determined gait to her car and slid behind the wheel. He waited until her engine roared, her headlights clicked on, and her car left the curb.
He slammed the door. “Shit.”
Grabbing his phone, he dialed. On the second ring a gruff trooper answered.
“This is Agent Sharp. I need you to keep an eye on a potential witness for me.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Tessa McGowan. Can you put extra patrols around her work and home if I text you addresses?”
“Consider it done, Sharp.”
“Thanks.” He hung up and immediately sent Green the addresses. He might not be able to be the man she needed, but he sure as hell could keep her safe.
Elena swam through the haze, rising from the deep end of nothingness. Above, sunlight glistened, and she sensed if she kept pulling herself up, she would reach the surface and be able to take a deep breath. Just keep swimming. Keep pulling.
As the light grew brighter, she became aware of pain burning her face. The closer she moved toward the surface, the worse it became.
When Elena broke free, she could barely move her head beca
use her face was so tender. Her lips and eyes were swollen, her cheeks stung, and her forehead and neck felt as if they had been scraped with sandpaper.
She tried to raise her hand but couldn’t make her arms move. What the hell? She forced her eyes to focus on her fingers, only to realize her hands were strapped to the arms of the chair.
Lifting her head slightly, she felt the pull and crinkle of bandages on her face. God, what had happened to her?
Elena’s gaze darted around the room, and she took in the simple white chair by her bed and the matching table across the room. No pictures. No windows. No sounds. No clue that told her where she’d been brought.
She tried to sit forward, but the movement sent agony slicing through her skull. She lowered gently back against the headrest. Panic rose inside her as bile crawled up her throat.
“Please,” she whispered. “Someone, please help me?”
Had she been in an accident? Was she in a hospital? What had happened to her? Even as her mind cleared, her memory of what happened danced just out of reach. Tears welled in her eyes. It even hurt to cry.
Heart pounding, she twisted her hands in an attempt to free them from the bindings. The leather straps rubbed hard against her wrists. The left side didn’t budge, but the right yielded slightly. If she could keep working on it, maybe she could get her hand free and find out what had happened.
On the other side of the door, footsteps sounded. Panic rising, she froze. Eyes wide open, she waited desperately to see who had restrained her.
When the door opened, the man smiled at her with an expression of surprise to find her awake. “I thought you’d be asleep at least another hour.”
She paused, her lips protesting any movement. “What happened to me?”
He set down a small tray with what looked like soup and a smoothie. “You’re fine,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry one bit.”
Her vision was clearer now. And she could see that this man was tall and broad shouldered. “What happened?”
Brown eyes filled with genuine tenderness. “All that matters is you’re going to be perfect.”
Time folded in on itself. She couldn’t remember what had brought her here. “Was I in an accident?”