He pushed a hand through his hair, realizing it had happened again. He’d slept. Really slept. It was her. Something about being with her allowed him to let go of the grief that had bunkered down in his soul. And not just the sleep, but he could taste food again. Being with her felt too damn good. He felt alive again.
Breathing in the cold November air, he looked around the parking lot. Perhaps, being with her felt good, but leaving her felt wrong. But he had to, didn’t he? Thoughts of Keith made his feet move away from the door.
He got into his SUV and fit the keys in the ignition just as a car pulled into the lot. It parked two doors down from where Cali slept. Brit’s hands curled around the steering wheel. He waited. A man got out. Dark hair, large build. Brit couldn’t see his face. The stranger walked past the first door and stopped in front of Cali’s room. Brit reached for his gun.
~
Cali had just drifted off, when she smelled the cigarette smoke. The dream pulled her in.
“You need to call her,” Mama said.
The mattress shifted, and Cali rolled over. Her mom sat at the foot of the bed. Just a dream. “Call who?”
“Sara. Your student, the one whose mother has cancer. Call and remind her that her mom needs a second opinion.”
Cali recalled the fear she’d seen in Sara’s eyes. “What do you know?” Cali’s chest constricted.
“Just that you need to call, dear. Convince her.”
In the dream, Cali sat up and watched her mom blow smoke rings.
A smile tilted her mom’s lips. “Do you remember when you sat in my lap and asked me to make smoke Os?”
Cali nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”
Her mom studied the cigarette. “I would have never smoked around you if I’d known how bad it was.” Silence fell like a soft rain, and her mom toyed with her bracelets. “You know, your father wasn’t all bad in the beginning.”
Cali considered telling her that she didn’t want to talk about him. Her mother had brought him up once or twice those last weeks of her life, but Cali had always managed to steer the topic away. It hurt to talk about him. Hurt to remember the few vague memories she had of the man who’d walked out of her life.
Her mother pulled the cigarette to her lips. “I should have made him leave. But I wanted to fix him. Like you, I was a fixer. I thought if I loved him enough he would change.” Her mom stared at Cali as if trying to read her mind. “Oh, God,” her mom said as tears filled her eyes. “You heard us that night, didn’t you?”
“What night?” Cali felt a familiar ache stir in her chest.
A tear rolled down her mom’s face. “Why didn’t I figure this out?”
The memory surfaced in Cali’s mind. She was four. She hugged her worn teddy bear in her arms and stood outside her parent’s bedroom door. The loud voices had woken her up. Sometimes he screamed really loudly at her mother, and Cali wanted to make sure her mama was okay.
“I’m so sorry,” her mother said. “I should have realized. That’s why you hated kindergarten and summer camps. You were afraid I’d leave you.”
Cali closed her eyes as the memory replayed her father’s voice. “Just leave her. She’s always in the way. Someone else will care for her. The state has homes for kids. Come with me.” Her father had wanted her mom to give her away.
“Oh, baby.” Her mother’s voice shook with emotion. “You’ve been afraid all this time. And now I have left you.”
Cali swallowed the lump of pain. “You were a great mom.” And she meant it. Her mother had put her first—over her career, over the occasional men she’d dated. Cali had never questioned her place in her mother’s life. She’d been first. Now Cali wondered if that had been right for her mom to do that.
“We did okay, didn’t we?” Her mother brushed a hand over Cali’s shoulder. Warmth seeped from her touch, and the age-old hurt began to disappear.
Her mom swung around and looked at the door. For a second, she appeared panicked, then she relaxed. “The detective really isn’t a dickhead, Cali.”
“I know,” she said.
“And there’s nothing wrong with how you eat.”
Cali sighed. “I know that, too.” She leaned back into the pillow and felt the next realm of sleep calling her. “I’m so tired, Mom.”
“You shouldn’t stay here again. Tomorrow, find a different place.” She stood and went to stand by the door, staring at it as if she could see out. “Find another motel room, or—”
“I’m fine.” Cali felt her mind slipping away.
“You’re not fine. Don’t tune me out, girl. You have to listen. Cali...”
~
Brit quietly opened his car door, gun aimed, finger on the trigger. He made it to the hood of his SUV when the man walked to the next hotel door, pulled out a card key from his pocket and let himself in.
Relaxing his grip on the gun, Brit took a deep breath. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave her when a man who’d already committed three murders was looking for her. Grabbing his cell phone from his pocket, he hit the memory button until he found Quarles’ number.
Brit spoke as soon as his partner answered. “Remember the diner from yesterday? Meet me at the hotel parking lot across the street.”
“That chick’s there, isn’t she?” Quarles asked.
Brit hadn’t explained last night, but he knew Quarles had been suspicious. Brit hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but now he didn’t care what Quarles knew. “Yeah. Just meet me there. And tell Adams we’re going to be out all night.” Brit looked at his watch, thinking about his appointment with Payne at midnight. “And hurry.”
~
Twenty minutes later, his partner pulled up beside him. Brit gave him the short explanation about his meeting with Payne.
“No,” Quarles said. “Let me go talk to Payne. You stay here and babysit. You’re the one who has the hots for her.”
“Look, you don’t know Payne. You don’t know how he works. I do. He won’t talk to you. I just need you to watch out for her. Look, you’re my partner. And I’m asking this as a favor.”
Brit didn’t know how Quarles would react to him throwing down the partner card. Considering they’d only been partners for two weeks, and the fact that Brit had mostly treated Quarles like a stomach virus, he honestly figured Quarles would tell him to blow smoke up someone else’s ass.
“One hour,” Quarles said. The man held up a finger. “After that, I’ll come looking for you.”
Brit thumped Quarles’ shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Thank me by getting your ass back in one piece with something that we can use to take down these guys.”
“You got it.” Brit started to walk away, but he heard Quarles speak.
“By the way, I took your sister to dinner tonight.”
Brit turned, his brotherly instincts on alert. “Why?”
“Because I was hungry.” He paused. “Because I like her. Because she’s beautiful.” His voice didn’t waver. “Is this going to be a problem?”
Brit looked at his partner. “She doesn’t even live here.”
“She visits regularly. And Austin isn’t that far away.”
Brit popped his knuckles. “What do you want to come of this?”
“Come of it?” Quarles chucked. “It’s a little soon to be asking me my intentions, isn’t it?”
Brit frowned. “I swear, if you hurt her, I’ll shoot you. And I’m not joking.”
Quarles didn’t flinch. “I’m not planning on hurting her. We had dinner and we actually had a nice time.”
Frowning, Brit got into his SUV and drove to meet Payne.
As his tires hummed against the pavement, he mentally collected everything he knew about Quarles. He’d talked about a few women he’d known in the past—relationships that had fizzled out. He was probably Brit’s age, maybe even older. His family lived somewhere in east Texas. The man had a dog and took the damn thing to the vet constantly. Truth was, Quarles seemed decent enough. And Brit respec
ted that he’d been upfront with him. But Brit simply didn’t want to know the man who was trying to get into his sister’s pants.
However, Big Sis probably wasn’t waiting for baby brother’s approval either. Susan had always done things her way. A freelance photographer, she’d made a name for herself and didn’t live her life by anyone else’s rules. He actually respected that about her, too.
After a minute, Brit decided he didn’t have the right to tell Susan what to do. But he hadn’t lied to Quarles. If the man hurt his sister, he’d answer to Brit.
Turning the corner to the house where Payne had said he’d be, Brit noticed the knots in his shoulders had lessened. The sleep he’d had in Cali’s presence had worked magic again. Hope vibrated in his chest, and for the first time he felt like he might be able to do this. Find Keith’s and Anderson’s killer, live through the grief, and Cali.... What with Cali? That was the million-dollar question.
“I’m not having sex with you.”
Something told him that might change. Or maybe it was just him hoping.
After checking the address twice, he parked his SUV in the driveway. He got out and looked up and down the street at the overgrown lawns, the wrecked cars parked in the front yards. Not what you’d call suburban paradise. Rent must be cheap.
His gaze moved again to the shack of a house. Not a light on in the place. The tension crawled back into his shoulders. He pulled his gun out of his holster and eased toward the porch.
He took the first cracked step up to the house. The wood slats on the porch moaned. The door stood ajar. Something felt wrong. Deadly wrong. Then he smelled the blood.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I’m going to be longer than an hour,” Brit said into his cell phone thirty minutes later when Quarles answered his line.
“What? Payne’s not talking?” Quarles chuckled. “Can I be the guy who hits you this time?”
Brit pressed a thumb against his temple. “Duke told you about that?” Not that he cared.
“Oh, yeah. He’s quite proud of it.” Quarles paused as if waiting for Brit’s comeback. When Brit didn’t offer one, Quarles cleared his throat. “What’s up?”
“Someone got to Payne.”
“Dead?” Quarles asked.
“Yeah.”
“Crap. You think it’s about his talking to us?”
“What else can I think?” Brit stepped away from the door as the paramedics wheeled Payne’s body out.
“I know for a fact that you offered that lowlife protection. This isn’t your fault.”
“I know,” Brit said. “But he’s still dead, isn’t he?” Guilt pinched at his gut.
“Where are you? I’ll be right there.”
“No. Don’t leave her.”
“Brit. The chick’s fine. If that bastard Humphrey knew she was here he’d already have shown up.”
“Please.” Damn, did he really say that? Cali’s manners were rubbing off on him. “I’m wrapping things up here, and I’ll be back there. I don’t know if Adams told you, but I’m only working half shifts. I’m on the task force.”
“Me, too,” Quarles said. “I talked Adams into it when I heard you were on it.”
Brit leaned against the wall, trying not to look at the blood smeared on the floor. But damn, he’d seen too much death this month. “You didn’t even know Keith.”
“He was a fellow officer. That’s all I need to know.”
“Yeah.” Brit stepped outside on the porch and took a deep breath, hoping to cleanse himself of the images. “Keep an eye on her. I’ll be there soon.”
~
Soon turned into three hours. It had taken him an hour to fill out the dreaded report and another two to find Rina Newman and get her under police protection and set up in a hotel. She’d insisted on it being a five star. Brit hadn’t argued. If Adams refused to pay for it, not having her death on his conscience was worth the price of a fancy hotel for a few days.
The way he figured it, Rina had tipped someone off about Payne’s slip of the tongue or Payne had done it himself. Either way, whoever had gotten Payne could get to Rina. Brit didn’t think his conscience could take another hit.
Quarles wasn’t happy when he finally returned to Cali’s motel, and neither was Brit. He looked at his partner. “I told Adams you were chasing leads on the jewelry heist murder,” he informed him.
“You mean you lied.” Quarles’ tone rang with frustration.
“Humphrey is a lead on the jewelry heist.”
“Yeah, then why didn’t you just tell them I was here babysitting?”
Brit didn’t answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He started toward the motel room door, wanting nothing more than to crawl into the bed with Cali and lose himself to sleep. Okay, maybe he’d like to lose himself in her. But that wasn’t an option.
“Hey.” Quarles’ voice brought Brit around. Concern darkened the man’s eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”
Brit squared off, not wanting to appear weak. “Yeah, but I’ve met my quota on seeing dead people for the month.”
“Hell of a way to make a living, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Brit waved and let himself in, quietly. Cali, asleep on her stomach, lay on his side of the bed. Well, the side he’d slept on for the last two evenings. She didn’t stir, and he hoped she wouldn’t because she might push him away. He took his gun out and quietly set it on the nightstand as he toed off his shoes. Then he stripped off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Out of habit, he undid his jeans and started to push them down when he caught himself. Would she balk that he’d stripped down to his boxers? Oh, hell, he was too tired to care. He shucked off his jeans and socks. Careful not to let his weight shift the mattress, he crawled in beside her and pulled the cover up over his waist.
Staring at the ceiling, he questioned if even her magic would bring him sleep tonight. The snapshots began to play inside his head—Keith, the dead men in the hotel, and now Payne.
A soft sigh escaped the sleeping woman beside him. Brit held his breath and hoped like hell that she didn’t wake up and ask him to go. Instead, she rolled over, found his shoulder and rubbed her soft cheek against his bare chest. Her hand dropped to rest low on his abdomen and he rode the wave of pleasure that followed her feather-light touch. The softness of her breasts melted against his side and his loose boxers suddenly felt tight.
He swallowed and tried to just enjoy having her close, because he knew he couldn’t have more. But why couldn’t he? Obviously, all the blood he needed to work his brain had gone to other parts of his body, and he struggled to remember why he couldn’t dip his head down and taste her mouth again, to let his hands roam up and under that T-shirt, to—
“I’m not having sex with you.”
Yup, there was the reason he couldn’t make a move. Now. When he made a move, and yes, he figured he eventually would, it would be when she was wide awake.
She turned her head and the wispy feel of her hair flowing across his chest actually brought a smile to his lips. Drawing in a careful breath, he let her scent fill his lungs.
Hearing the even sound of her breathing, he braved his next move. He rested his hand on her back. So damn soft. Then, even as his body cried out for sexual release, he found himself closing his eyes, letting go of the images haunting him, letting go of the pain. And he could let go as long as he held her.
~
A door slammed in the room next door and startled Cali awake. She opened her eyes and raised her head. When she did, she found herself staring into a hooded pair of blue-green eyes. Brit’s eyes.
“Oh goodness.” She lay stretched out on top of him like a blanket. Her panic came on quickly. The panic increased when she recognized the impressive bulge pressing against her abdomen.
With lightning speed, she rolled off him. Which might have been a good move had they not been on the edge of the bed. She landed with a thump on the floor, face down. She turned her head and rubbed the end of her nose. Moving her han
d, she found herself staring at a men’s pair of jeans and a shirt on the floor. One thought did a fast track around the corners of her sleep-dazed mind. If his clothes were down here, then what was he wearing up there?
Suddenly a pair of large feet landed a few inches from her face. He knelt. His position offered the answer to her question. His position also offered a better vista. A three-dimensional vista. Knees, round and dusted with hair, behind them extended thighs with firm muscles, and, holy moly, the man filled out his pair of navy boxers quite nicely. She stared, blinked, and stared some more.
Reality hit. Ogling a man’s crotch was not polite. She turned her head, resting on her other cheek, and eyed the fabric fuzz on the top of the tan vacuum-damaged carpet.
“You okay?” His hands reached down as if to help her up.
“Fine.” She let him help her stand and then she stepped away. She’d seen him shirtless last night and had been impressed, but now she had the whole package, well except for the boxers, and, oh boy.
“Bathroom.” She lunged forward, but her foot wedged in his jeans. She tripped. He caught her around her waist, pulling her into his hot, almost naked body. Her hands and cheek pressed against his chest, and she pushed back.
He studied her, his hands still on her waist. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” Her pulse sang while her heart tried to hum along.
He moved his hand from her waist and touched her cheek. His smile appeared sleepy and sexy. “Your nose is red.” His voice came out husky with an early-morning drawl that oozed over her like warm honey.
“That happens when I fall on it.”
He chuckled. “You’re cute in the morning.”
Rolling her eyes, she went to the bathroom and tried to find some of her dignity. And she knew exactly where to look for it—in the toilet.
~
Murder Mayhem and Mama Page 19