“Didn’t you volunteer last time, Cali?”
Cali glanced up, caught in the woman’s target. “Yes, it’s a great program.” Then she clamped her mouth. You can’t fix everything, Cali. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head. Let somebody else help the A.R.K. program this time.
“Well, everyone think about it,” Mrs. Jasmine said.
“I’ll do it,” Tanya said, sitting next to Cali.
“Thank you, Tanya.” The meeting continued and Tanya leaned over. “Do you think Mr. Little Dickhead would come speak at the meeting?”
“I don’t know. You did call him an asshole.”
Tanya grinned. “That’s why I was thinking you could ask him for me. I think he likes you.”
Not as much as he does the brunette, Cali thought.
~
After simmering a while in his office, Brit left to find Duke or Mark. To see if their chat with the other gang members had given them anything.
“Nothing,” Duke mumbled and shoved back from his desk. “The bad thing is I believe they’re telling the truth. Either Payne is shooting us a line of bull or he got something wrong.”
Brit felt his blood pressure rise a notch. “Maybe it’s not the Blue Bloods. Maybe it’s a different gang.”
The toothpick between Duke’s lips rolled to the other side his mouth. “Maybe. But he said Blue Bloods, didn’t he?”
Gritting his teeth, Brit nodded. “Did they get anything from the crime scene at Anderson’s?”
“No, it was clean. Just like Keith’s.”
Brit picked up the file. Two bullets to the head. The same as Keith’s. Same gun, a .45. Keith was killed in a parking lot. Anderson died at his house.
“You know,” Brit said, “I always found it odd that Keith didn’t have any defensive wounds. Keith was a fighter and if he’d seen anything coming, he’d have fought. And I’ve never seen anyone sneak up on him, either.” Brit thumped the file. “It says here that Anderson’s place wasn’t broken in to. So we have to assume that he might have known the killer.”
Interest piqued, Duke sat up. “Then it would have to be someone they both knew? So is Payne’s story a crock? Neither Keith nor Anderson worked on the gang force. I checked. Even you said that Keith and Anderson hardly knew each other.”
Brit popped his knuckles. “They didn’t. Sure, we ran into Anderson while working a case or two, but that’s it.”
“Maybe we should look back at those cases,” Duke said.
“Maybe. But hell, I’m just thinking out loud. None of those cases ever felt like trouble.” Brit gritted his teeth. He was so tired of not finding answers.
“Keep thinking,” Duke said. “Because I sure as hell have hit a brick wall.” The toothpick shifted to the left side of Duke’s mouth.
“I’m on the task force now, too.” Brit looked at the clock. “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.”
As Brit walked out, he decided to give Payne a call—see about meeting him again. Maybe Payne had gotten the gang wrong. Back in his office, he got Payne on his cell phone. As usual, the man only wanted to gripe about how he was putting his life on the line.
“We offered you police protection,” Brit insisted when Payne balked about meeting him.
“Then they’d find out for sure,” Payne snapped.
Brit got the feeling that Payne refused protection because he was doing his own shady business, not because of being fingered as a snitch. “They wouldn’t,” Brit said.
“I don’t want to have a cop up my ass.”
“Then if you get hurt, it’s on you.” After a few more minutes of dialogue, Brit jotted down the address where Payne finally agreed to meet him. “You be there at midnight or I’ll come looking for you. And if I have to look for you, I swear to God, I’ll find some reason for you to do time.”
When he hung up, he remembered that last night, he and Quarles had spent most of the night combing through the files and going through mug shots at the diner across the street from the hotel. He’d kept an eye on Cali’s hotel door all night.
He wouldn’t be able to do that tonight. And that thought didn’t sit well with him. The fact that he cared didn’t sit well either. The fact that he wanted to be in that hotel room with her, both of them naked, annoyed the hell out of him.
Fighting back a jumble of emotions he blamed on lack of sleep, he headed out. He was almost in his car, when he saw the cat darting across the parking lot toward him.
She stopped a few feet away, stared, and then slowly inched closer. Her gold eyes studied him, and she let out a soft purr.
“I left food earlier. It’s over there.”
She did a figure eight around his leg, gazing up at him with a needy expression.
“Don’t do this.” He scowled. “We’re not buddies. I’m not the attaching kind.”
He squatted down and held out his hand. She moved in and rubbed the side of her face on the tip of his fingers. When he turned his hand over, she darted back a foot. “Still don’t trust me, huh?”
She moved a bit closer. “Okay, since we’re talking, the white Buick isn’t a litter box. Crap on Adams’ car again, and the shit will hit the fan.” He glanced at his watch. “Now go. I got another woman to see about.”
~
Brit called her when he parked in front of the school. Then, hungry to see her, he got out and waited by the glass doors. When she came strolling down the hall, he watched her body move toward him, and his blood thickened with sexual awareness. He smiled. The smile she returned appeared forced, and he remembered how she’d looked today. Terrified. But of what? Was he right that she was hiding something?
She pushed the doors open and as she got closer, his gaze moved to her lips, and he was hit with the longing to kiss her. He didn’t do it, but he did put his hand on her lower back.
He felt her flinch and she stepped away from his touch. For some reason, her reaction reminded him of the cat. Scared. Jumpy. She didn’t trust him. The thought hurt. Then he recalled how he’d been an ass to her in the beginning. Trust needed to be earned.
“Bad day?” he asked when he caught up with her. Hoping he would find the answer to what she might be hiding.
“Bad day, bad week, bad month. Bad few years.”
“How can I make it better?” he asked and meant it. Because damn it, he understood how she felt. Grief wasn’t easy to deal with.
“Tell me I can go home to my apartment. I just want to get back home and start my life over.”
“You will soon enough.” They walked, only their footsteps filling the silence. When they got to their cars, he glanced around again. While there wasn’t a white pickup in sight, Brit had decided to drive around a while to make sure no one followed them. Leaving her tonight would be difficult, but it would be impossible if he didn’t do everything in his power to make sure that Stan couldn’t find her.
Still aching to touch her, he cratered. He reached up and brushed his hand down her cheek to her neck. This time she didn’t pull away. A few strands of blonde hair on her neck caught in his fingers. He remembered how it had looked that first night at her apartment—all loose and soft, shimmering around her shoulders. What he wouldn’t give to yank that clip from her hair; what he wouldn’t give to feel her hair on his naked chest.
“You follow me, okay? I’m not going straight to the motel. I want to make sure no one is trailing us.” He brushed his hand to the back of her neck, mesmerized at how his palm fit perfectly into the curve of her neck. He wanted to touch her like this everywhere, without clothes. To know every dip and sway of her body.
“We’re going to catch this guy,” he said.
She caught his hand, pulled it away, and released it, but she continued to stare up at him. “Do you ever sleep?”
He was so caught up in her blue eyes, he barely heard her. “Huh?”
“Your eyes are bloodshot. You work all night and now you’re working today.”
“I’m not on duty now.”
“Then w
hat are you doing here?”
“I’m making sure you’re not being followed.”
“But you’re not getting paid.”
“I’ll let you buy dinner tonight.” And maybe you’ll wear your hair down for me.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Okay, I’ll pay for dinner.” He grinned and took her keys from her hands and hit the button to open her doors. As he leaned forward, he caught her scent, that soft flowery perfume. He remembered her sweater in his car. “I have your sweater.”
“I have your jacket,” she said. “It’s in the backseat.” She glanced to her back seat and started to reach for it. He stopped her.
“I’ll get it later. Let’s get out of here before we get company.”
He rode around for almost ten minutes, keeping his eyes on Cali’s Honda behind him and any cars behind her. Finally, satisfied that no one tailed them, he headed toward the hotel. Toward temptation, and he was feeling damn weak right now. He reminded himself that she might be keeping secrets, but even that didn’t sate his need to have her. To have her close.
~
Cali pulled into the hotel parking lot and practiced her send-off speech one more time. “I’m really tired, and all I want to do is go to bed and sleep, so if you don’t mind, I’m just going to skip dinner. Besides, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. Like that hot little babe you brought to my school today. Remember, the one who has bigger tits and longer legs than I do?”
She startled when he opened her car door.
“You talk to yourself very often?”
“Only on Fridays,” she quipped to hide her nervousness and got out. A cool breeze brushed past them. She pulled her thin cardigan closed, recalled her speech, and decided to leave out the bigger tits and legs part. “I...” She stuttered to a halt when he reached out and released her banana clip, letting her hair fall. “What are you doing?”
His sexy grin came on strong. “If you can talk to yourself on Fridays, you should be able to let your hair down.” He tossed her banana clip in her front seat, pulled her to the side, and shut the car door. “Where do you want to take me for dinner?”
She ran a hand through her hair. Then she remembered her talk to send him packing. “You don’t have to stay.” Her breath caught when he pressed a finger over her lips.
“I want to.” He stared at her mouth. “I want…”
Chapter Twenty
“You probably have plans,” she said against his finger, and when she looked up at him she got the idea that he was considering kissing her. She stepped back, but butted against her car.
He pressed closer. “I do have plans. I’m having dinner with you.” His gaze went to her mouth again. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?”
Her breath caught. “No, but. . .” She remembered the woman he’d had with him today. “I don’t think you should do that.”
“Why not?” He moved in. His lips were so close she could feel the moisture from his breath.
“Because. . .” She forgot why it wasn’t a good idea.
He moved closer, his head lowered just a bit. His lips brushed ever so lightly against hers.
“Because. . .” There had been a reason why he shouldn’t kiss her. She’d known it, but it was gone.
“Too late now.” His lips melted against hers.
She forgot about telling him to stop—forgot everything. The only thing she knew was that he tasted so good—felt so good. The ache she felt in her heart for the last week, even the ache she’d felt since she’d heard her mom had cancer, lifted like fog. An odd thought ran though her mind. This was what it felt to be alive. A part of her had died with her mother, and had been dying since she learned her of mother’s cancer.
When his tongue slipped between her lips, she opened her mouth, invited him inside. His hand moved through her hair to cup the back of her head. He tilted her head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss. She leaned into him, let her tongue move into his mouth. Her breasts slid across his chest. His other hand moved between her and the car. His palm glided under her cardigan, under her pink sweater, and his palm moved over the bare skin of her lower back.
“Get a room,” someone yelled from a passing car.
They jerked apart. She covered her mouth with her hand. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said behind her fingers.
She darted off toward her room—part of her hoping he would leave, another part hoping he wouldn’t. His footsteps echoed along with hers. When she opened her door, she turned to give him the speech.
“I’m tired.” She couldn’t remember what came next in the speech. Oh, yeah, he should leave. She opened her mouth but—
“Me, too.” He nudged her inside and shut the door.
They stood there, staring at each other. She noticed his breathing sounded as labored at hers. Hands clenched, she glanced at the bed. His taste still lingered on her tongue, the feel of his body against hers echoed in her memory like a sweet dream, or a poem too good to be forgotten. She glanced up and caught him studying the bed.
Her breath caught; the memory of his kiss vibrated through her. She turned and stared at the wall and then she swung around. “I’m not having sex with you,”
He exhaled so hard she saw the hair resting against his brow flutter with his breath.
He nodded. “I can deal with that.” He looked around for a second and then back at her. “I didn’t mean for that to get out of hand.” He looked at the clock. “We’ll have an early dinner and—”
The send-off speech, she needed to do the speech. “I think you should leave.”
He stared at her, frowned, and then ran a hand through his hair. “And I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Well, I’m not so sure that your opinion—”
“Three!” He blurted out. “Count them. Three.” He held out three fingers. “Three people connected with Stan Humphrey have ended up dead. And now he’s after you. And… because of a kiss, because of a moment that got out of hand you want to put your life at risk. The kiss was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
Angry, confused, and still so weak, she tossed her purse on the chair, grabbed her suitcase, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. A cold shower.
She’d never needed a cold shower before. However, she’d never felt that achy emptiness between her legs like she had now. Never felt her entire body tingle with need, want and desire. Sex had always been something she thought was overrated. Most of the times she didn’t cross the finish line and she just faked it. She’d even considered the fact that something might be wrong with her. She’d gone for two years without getting naked with someone before Stan, and her experiences with him showed her she hadn’t really been missing anything.
So what was happening? Why now? Why Brit? Why did she feel as if she would die if he didn’t make love to her? Oh yeah, her mother had explained that their auras had the hots for each other.
Maybe Dr. Roberts was wrong. Maybe she was crazy!
Ten minutes later, she came out of the bathroom, showered, cooled off, and feeling a bit more in control. Her gaze lit on him, stretched out on her bed, shoes off, both pillows stacked behind his head. His eyes shut. He’d turned the television on and the remote rested on his flat stomach.
But she’d bet beneath the shirt he wasn’t flat. She’d bet he had those ripples caused by tight muscles. She’d imagined him without his shirt. Imagined her in bed beside him without his shirt. Her breath caught when she realized what she was doing. She was literally undressing the guy in her mind. Men did that. Not women. She jerked her gaze up to the ceiling.
Dang those auras!
Not that she believed, but she needed something to blame it on. And blaming auras was as good as anything.
Her gaze shifted back to him again. Asleep. Had it been so easy for him to forget the kiss? Her ego took a direct hit.
Suddenly his eye lids fluttered open, and they stared at each other. She felt h
is gaze whisper down her body. Saw the male appreciation warm his blue-green eyes. Okay, so her ego felt a little better, but her willpower took another nosedive.
She’d purposely gone through her suitcase and found the most unappealing thing she’d brought with her. Gray sweats and an extra large white T-shirt. She had also put her hair back up, because she hadn’t missed the way he’d watched it tumble down around her shoulders after he’d unclasped it.
“You like Italian?” he asked.
He looked part Italian. Yeah, she liked. But he meant food, and she should be thinking food. She’d never eaten lunch and the donut he brought her for breakfast had worn off hours ago.
He sat up, shifted his weight and pressed against the headboard. “There’s an Italian place right around the corner. I think they deliver.” He pointed to the phonebook he had open beside him. “Someone told me they have wonderful chicken marsala and veal parmesan. We could get one of each and share.”
She laced her fingers together. Just like that she remembered another reason this whole thing felt wrong. And by “whole thing” she meant the kiss, his being in a hotel room with her, her lusting after his body. “Seriously, don’t you have somewhere else that you should be?”
“Nope.” He reached for the phone. “I’ll order.”
“What about your girlfriend?” The question slipped out. A question she felt compelled to ask, but shouldn’t.
“She dumped me about eight weeks ago.” He pulled the phone book closer and punched in the number.
“She didn’t look too upset today.” Oh, crap, why didn’t she just shut up? He was going to think she was jealous. And she wasn’t jealous. Or was she?
He glanced up, his eyes widened at her question. “Is that why you were upset today?”
She flushed. “I wasn’t upset.”
He held up a finger. “I’d like to place an order to go. Chicken Marsala and Veal Parmesan.”
Murder Mayhem and Mama Page 17