Cold Midnight

by Joyce Lamb

  “That’s what brothers do.”

  “How will we prove his innocence?”

  “Chase is a good cop, a really good cop. He’ll do the right thing.”

  Lara smiled. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Kylie nodded with a broad grin. “Yep.”

  As if that had summoned him, the door pushed inward, and Chase strode in. He paused in midstep when he saw Kylie and Lara sitting side-by-side on the bed. “Oh. Am I . . . should I . . .”

  “No, no, you’re okay,” Lara said as she and Kylie both rose. “We were just talking about you.”

  “Oh?” He quirked a brow at Kylie.

  Lara cast him a serious, take-no-prisoners look as she went to the door. “You’ll be good to my daughter, detective, or you’ll answer to me.”

  His cheeks flushed, and he straightened his shoulders as though he’d been caught slouching. “Yes, ma’am. Of course.”

  Kylie laughed as he all but saluted while Lara opened the door and left them alone. “Does she scare you?”

  He flashed her a sheepish grin. “A little, yeah. Always did.” He walked over and studied her with a critical eye. “You doing okay?”

  She nodded and smiled as he drew her into his arms and kissed her. His lips tasted slightly of Coca-Cola, and for a long moment, she lost herself in his flavor, the beat of his heart under her hand, the heat of his mouth on hers, the faint tropical scent of his sunscreen.

  When they parted, he didn’t release her, just kept holding her close, swaying a little as if a romantic tune played in his head. “Any word from the doctor?”

  “Not yet. It’s kind of ridiculous, really. I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure you are,” he said, lips twitching.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m not just saying that.”

  “No more headache?”

  “It’s mostly gone. Whatever they gave me after the Tylenol worked like a charm.”

  “Excellent.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then sat on the bed and drew her between his legs, where he rested his chin on her shoulder and rubbed her back with one hand.

  They stayed like that for a few moments, content in the quiet, until Chase sighed. “I have a question for you. About Quinn.”

  “Okay.” As she moved away from him to sit in the chair, he held onto her hand for an extra second, as though he hated the thought of letting her go.

  Once she sat, he gazed at her, his head cocked. He seemed hesitant.

  Sighing, she left the chair and sat beside him on the bed, letting her thigh rest snugly against his. “Just ask me,” she said. “I’m not going to get mad.”

  He shifted to face her. “Quinn says he’s invested in the tennis center. Is that true?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want him to, but he insisted. He used equity from his house.”

  “Do you know if he’s having any financial problems?”

  “About five years ago, he had some trouble with credit cards. I helped him out, and as far as I know, he hasn’t had a problem since. When the tennis project came up, he said he wanted to pay me back and refinanced his house.” Shrugging, she tucked hair behind her ear. “I didn’t tell him this, but I stashed the money in a separate account. I didn’t want him to lose it if something bad happened.”

  “Do you know if he’d have any reason to borrow money from a loan shark?”

  “A loan shark? Are you serious?”

  “Just bear with me.”

  “If he needed money, I’m sure he would have come to me. I made it clear that if he ever needed what he invested back, I’d write him a check right then and there.”

  Chase nodded, his forehead creased in thought.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Sam turned up some stuff about Quinn’s finances. Must be old information, though. I’ll ask him to check further.”

  “What do Quinn’s finances have to do with any of this?”

  “Sam suggested Quinn could be behind what’s been happening because of money, but it wouldn’t make sense for him to sabotage the tennis center when he’s invested in it.”

  “He wouldn’t want to chase me out of town, either,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The attacker today. He said something about trying to get me to leave town. Quinn was the one who talked me into coming back to Kendall Falls for good.”

  Chase’s forehead smoothed as though something had just become clear. “That’s what wasn’t fitting. Sam suggested that kid went after you to get Quinn to pay up on a loan, but then why would he have ranted about you not getting the message to leave town?”

  “Have you talked to Quinn? I’m sure he could clear all this up.”

  “Yes. He showed up to see you a bit ago, and I intercepted him to ask him about some stuff our forensics team turned up.”

  “How did it go?”

  “I asked him to provide a blood sample.”

  “And is he?”

  “He seemed eager to, actually.”

  As much as she believed in her brother, she still felt relieved that he wasn’t fighting Chase. “Good. That’s good.”

  Chase nuzzled his nose against her ear. “How about I go rattle your doctor’s tree so I can bust you out of here?”

  She leaned against him, basking in his solid warmth. “That’d be wonderful. I’m tired of the scenery here.”

  His hand stroked down her arm before his fingers tangled with hers on his thigh. “Purple’s a good color for you. It makes your eyes more blue.”

  She tilted her head and looked him over. “You’ve got something else to tell me, don’t you?”

  “You can tell?”

  “You’ve got a look.”

  “Hmm, a look, huh?”

  “Quit stalling and tell me.”

  He took a breath. “We’re going to hole up at a house in Naples for a while. You should be safe there until this is over.”

  She stilled. “I thought that since Sam killed the man . . .”

  “We don’t know what, or who, connected him to you, so it’s better to be safe.”

  “Makes sense.”

  He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you, you know.”

  She smiled slightly, angling her head into his touch. “I love you, too.”

  He kissed her, his lips warm against hers. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You know that, right? I’ll take care of everything.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “You’re going to make me very lazy.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  51

  THE MORNING SUN GLINTED OFF THE GULF WAVES as Chase stood at the sliding-glass doors of the Naples safe house that overlooked a private beach. Foliage surrounded the peach stucco vacation home on three sides, dissected in front by a half-mile-long narrow, curving driveway. While he couldn’t see them, two security guards lurked among the palm, pine and jacaranda trees and shrubs that created as much privacy as anyone could want.

  The house and detached garage were nothing to rave about: not even a thousand square feet with one large bedroom, living and dining rooms and a kitchen. The décor was typical Florida: ceramic tile floors and white wicker furniture with cushions sporting large flower prints in peach and pink. Easily cleaned, easily replaced, perfect for vacationers, sloppy or neat.

  Chase loved how quiet it was. No traffic noises intruded on the ebb and flow of gentle waves and the back-and-forth singing of birds. The place ought to have been perfect for thinking through a difficult equation. Unfortunately, his problem—this case—had become too massive to get a handle on.

  Hearing movement behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to see Kylie in navy sweat shorts and a pink and purple tie-dyed T-shirt. She ambled into the kitchen, her eyes squinted against the bright light. The tan lines on her right leg framed her braceless knee, and he couldn’t help but feel a moment of satisfaction that she no longer hid her scars from him. They’d come a long way.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.”<
br />
  She gave him a drowsy smile. “Hey.”

  Walking up to him, she slipped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. He held her, stroking a hand over her back, awed at the ease with which she snuggled against him.

  “Sleep okay?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  “Mmm. You?”

  “Yep.” The truth was, he hadn’t slept much since they’d arrived here three days ago, too wired to completely let down his guard. Now that the weekend was all but over without even a false alarm, though, he figured he’d managed to thwart whoever was after her. For now.

  “I can tell, you know,” she said.

  He angled his head so he could meet her gaze. “Tell what?” “That you haven’t slept.”

  “I’ve caught a few hours here and there.”

  She brushed at the hair on his forehead. “You should crash and let me watch over you for a while.”

  He liked the sound of that but resisted the temptation. “How’re you feeling?”

  “I’m at a hundred percent. All the sleep has been amazing.”

  He brushed the knuckles of his right hand over her cheek, watched her eyes darken with awareness of him. He’d deliberately kept his distance since they’d holed up here, wanting her to rest. But now . . .

  Lowering his head, he kissed her. Lazy and slow, until she closed her eyes and relaxed fully against him.

  “You’re so good at that,” she murmured. “Everything falls away.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’d be happy to do that any time you want.”

  “Then your lips are going to get chapped.”

  “I’ll invest in some Blistex.”

  While she was laughing, he took her mouth in another, more intimate kiss, just to take the edge off his hunger. But apparently she was as hungry as he was, because she slid her arms around his waist and deepened the embrace, her tongue tangling with his in a way that had him wanting to back her against the wall and dive in.

  He had to force himself to back off, fingers threaded through her hair as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Slow down there, Ace.”

  “What’s the deal?” she breathed as she trailed kisses over his throat. “Don’t you want me anymore?”

  He chuckled. “Are you kidding me? I want you constantly.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I also want you rested and healthy. It’s only been a couple of days since you hit your head.”

  “My head is fine. The rest of me is very, very restless, though.” Her hands roamed down over his butt, and she delivered an affectionate squeeze. “Tell you what. Is there a tennis court nearby? If I can kick your butt, we get to do what I want to do.”

  “And you think what you want to do and what I want to do are different?”

  “We’re not doing it, are we? You’re being all squeamish about my owie.”

  “You did bleed all over me,” he pointed out.

  “So now I’ll walk all over you on the court, and we’ll be even.”

  “I don’t know if that tracks, but if you think you can take me, you’re on.”

  “Take you, huh? Interesting choice of words.”

  He grinned. “Is it?”

  KYLIE LAUGHED WITH DELIGHT WHEN THEY FOUND a pair of old tennis rackets and two cans of used balls in the detached garage. Chase bitched about the rickety rackets, but she took a few practice swings and declared them fit for play.

  “But what about the balls?” he asked. “I bet they’re flat.”

  She arched a brow at him. “Don’t tell me you can’t deal with flat balls.”

  He cocked his head. “Is that supposed to be a joke of some kind at my expense?”

  She shrugged. “Take it however you want.”

  “Are you starting the smack talk already? We haven’t even gotten to the court.”

  “Just warming up.”

  The walk to a community court that Chase had spotted the first day they’d arrived was lazy and quiet, and Kylie breathed in the fresh air and loved how the birds sang and insects hummed and waves ebbed and flowed on the beach parallel to the sidewalkless road.

  “I love Florida,” she said. “It’s so much more exotic than California.”

  “But they both have palm trees. And warm winters and tons of sunshine and miles of beautiful beaches. They can’t be that different.”

  “California is definitely missing something.”

  “Humidity?” he asked. “I could live with less of that.”

  She linked her arm with his and leaned her head against his bicep. “It didn’t have you.”

  He glanced askance at her, surprised and pleased, then saw the shrewd flash in her eyes and barked out a laugh. “You’re totally gaming me.”

  “What?” She gave him an innocent look. “I wasn’t lying.”

  “From now until we finish this game, I’m not buying anything you say, you sneaky, manipulative—”

  “Watch it.”

  He grinned. “Conniving.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Calculating.”

  “Oh, look, we’re here.”

  Chuckling, Chase followed her through the gate onto the green, clay court. Forest-green wind screens attached to the surrounding chain-link fence ensured some privacy.

  At the net, they divvied up the balls, stuffing them into the pockets of their tennis shorts, before taking their respective sides of the net.

  As Kylie bounced a ball, preparing to volley for serve, she called, “So do I need to take it easy on you?”

  “Why would you do that?” he asked, springing from one foot to the other to loosen up.

  “Well, you’re a cop, and cops have a thing about doughnuts.”

  He stopped bouncing and slapped his palm against his flat abdomen. “Does this look like a Krispy Kreme gut to you?”

  She laughed and shook her head. Hell, no, she thought, realizing as she pictured his naked washboard stomach that she’d distracted herself with her own trash talk. Get your head in the game, Ace. Eye on the . . . very hot, handsome, sexy guy across the net.

  “Any day now,” Chase called, bouncing again.

  God, he looked good in those tennis shorts, his legs tan and sculpted and . . . just plain yummy. A distracting ache of lust throbbed to life inside her, and she shook her head to shake it out. That’s not focusing. But, hell, he’d refused to touch her beyond chaste kisses and brief caresses for three days, insisting that she needed time to heal and rest and blah, blah, blah. She wanted him so much she could scream.

  And, she vowed, she’d have him as soon as she put him away.

  She volleyed the ball and fell into position, surprised when he whacked the ball back hard and fast. Holy crap. He wasn’t a bit stale.

  They smacked the ball back and forth several times, forcing each other to run and reach and strain. By the time Kylie lobbed one over his head, she was breathing hard and totally unprepared when he managed to catch it on the bounce and tap it right into the service court where she couldn’t possibly get to it in time.

  He grinned and celebrated. “My serve!”

  They played hard for an hour, sweating and running and grunting, while dark clouds rolled in. As they went into the third set, tied, thunder began to growl in the distance.

  “Maybe we should call it a game,” Chase called, looking as winded as she was.

  “No way.” She swallowed and shook her head, trying to catch her breath. “We play to the end.”

  “You’re not supposed to play this hard on that knee,” he said.

  “My knee is fine.” She jogged around in a small circle to show him. “Do you see me limping?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t let me see you limp if your feet were on fire.”

  “Do you want to quit?” she taunted. “You want to throw in the towel but blame me for it?”

  “Nope. I’m good for another two hours or more.”

  Another two hours or more? She neede
d to put this guy away before they were both too wrung out to take the physical activity to the bedroom. “Listen, I break your serve, and we’re done.”

  “You think you can break my serve?” he asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Right. Bring it.” He tossed a ball into the air and fired it at her like a tiny yellow missile.

  She returned gently, right to him, as a coach would with a new student. His eyebrows shot up, and when he glanced at her in surprise, she whipped up her shirt with its built-in bra and flashed him with a hoochie-coochie shimmy.

  He froze in midstep, eyes flying wide, and let the ball bounce past him unchallenged.

  Suppressing a triumphant grin, she repositioned her shirt and tidied her ponytail, cool as you please. “Love-fifteen,” she called.

  Chase burst out laughing. “That was dirty.”

  “All is fair in love and tennis,” she said, as prim and Janelike as she could manage.

  He stood there and considered her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed.

  “What?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing but wanted him to make the first move. That way, she won.

  Finally, he shrugged, hopped over the net and grabbed her hand. “I give. Let’s go.”

  THEY RAN BACK TO THE HOUSE WITH THEIR HANDS linked, laughing as rain began to pelt them.

  In the kitchen, they dropped their rackets by the door, and he backed her against the counter, devouring her mouth with his, reveling in the scent of rain and sweat and Kylie. Jesus, she tasted good, like want and heat and everything he’d ever craved from life.

  He stood straighter when she smoothed the palm of her hand over the front of his tennis shorts, molding her fingers around his stiffening cock. With a groan, he lifted her against him.

  She linked her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and he had to coach himself to go slow as he carried her down the hall toward the bedroom. But her sweet scent, her fingers in his hair, her warm, wet mouth on his . . . everything about her was driving him nuts. He had to have her, had to be inside her soon or they were both going to be disappointed.

  He braced a knee on the bed and eased her down, never breaking the seal of their lips as he came down on top of her. She cradled him between her legs, moaning in the back of her throat as the ridge of his erection hit her just right. Arching her head back into the pillow, she rasped, “God, you feel good even with your clothes on.”