Making himself at home, he rifled the cabinets for a mug and poured coffee for himself. He drank it black, just the way he preferred it, she knew. “You don’t believe that for a minute.”
“No.” Unlike him, Savannah had no compunction to lie. “In my mind, this was her way of reaching out, a final clue.”
“The blood smears on the gold loops. You think she intentionally yanked it off.”
She nodded. “Absolutely. Which would mean she was alive but obviously injured in some capacity when he stuffed her inside.” A fact she’d been wrestling with for what was beginning to feel like eons, a fact that had her closing her eyes and rubbing at her lids as she rehashed it.
* * * *
The urge to reach out to her, to soothe, was far, far too great, so Trevor kept his hands tucked safely into his pockets.
Who was the fucking coward now? Trevor wondered, thinking back to his suicide case.
A man who chose death over life, or a man who refused to reach for the life in front of him?
“I’d been trying to work that one out,” she told him, “wondering if she might’ve realized what he was doing, what he was going to do, or if the end was swift and oblivious. Both ways make me nauseous.”
“You can’t let it in like this, Savannah. When it gets this personal, you can’t eat or sleep without thinking about the victim. You’ve already had nightmares. It’ll make you weak, make you see things that aren’t there because it’s consumed your life to the point that the capacity for rational thought has been eaten away.”
“It’s too late to fight it, Trevor. All I can do is try to cope.”
And she was doing a pretty damn good job, whether she knew it or not. “With the access you have to Rothschild’s personal info, why don’t you check on withdrawals? Large amounts. I managed to do a little digging without raising any eyebrows, and it seems Miss Tillman lived off campus, in an apartment far too extravagant for a scholarship student working a part-time job at Starbucks. It certainly wasn’t coming in from her parents. They’re an older, retired couple living in Cincinnati on a moderate fixed income. Maybe the money trail leads to Eric as her sugar-daddy.”
“Eric’s funds are relatively limited, given his spending habits. There’s a regular transfer of funds, which I handle on the first of every month, from his father’s account. It’s some trust that was set up by his grandfather, if I’m not mistaken.”
She sipped at her coffee before going on. “But I’ve seen it and his salary pour out of his hands like sand. His apartment, I helped set him up at his father’s request, making the deposit, furnishing the place. The rent directly debits at the fifth of the month. And he has a couple credit cards, all maxed to the limit. If he had money enough to support Tori, it didn’t come from the accounts I have access to.”
“His mother’s a Livingston.” Trevor casually lifted a shoulder. “One trust fund well runs dry, dig for another source.”
“Yes, I suppose so. What I’d really like is a crack at his office computer. It’s connected to his personal computer at home. I’ll bet there’s an email or two that might prove they were involved.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “What would it take?”
“Breaking and entering,” she informed, gravely.
“You’ve been thinking about this, planning this.” Mentally swearing a few crude oaths, he shook his head in disbelief and ran a hand over his features. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, Georgia, but tell me how we’re going to do it.”
Chapter 7
Ask any criminal, and they’ll tell you: a big part of the rush comes from the basic fear of getting caught. But the ultimate rush comes in getting away with it.
It was the same illogical logic that made rational people have sex in public places, like the phone-booth sized cramped quarters of an airplane bathroom, or, God forbid, right on the thrones of their first-class seats.
Welcome to the Mile High Club, y’all!
Really, it was no different than the kleptomaniac granny who was compelled to pack her pocketbook with condiment packets, a fancy saltshaker, or a fork or two from her favorite local restaurant.
The rush was in taking something without detection. Or, as in this case, slipping into a government building without setting off alarms and alerting the guard, the police, hell, the media.
The woman was enjoying this way too much for Trevor’s peace of mind. Should he be worried about her apparent delight when it came to bending the law? Bending, she’d reasoned, and not breaking. It was, after all, her place of employment, and she did have a set of keycards to the kingdom.
Savannah meticulously mapped out the layout of the building and, in particular, the fifth floor. She had the guard’s schedule committed to memory, which she also put to paper for Trevor’s benefit, and the plan for avoiding him down to a science.
Trevor had even dressed to her specifications. Though, really, he would’ve chosen all black without the inventory she’d given him. As if he couldn’t think for himself, he’d wanted to scoff. She’d even gone so far as to list black socks. Then, as if he couldn’t be trusted to comply, she insisted on seeing them the moment he’d shown up at her apartment.
Tugging at a black pant leg, he revealed a dark, cotton-covered ankle. “Satisfied?” Her smile said yes, but he just had to push it. Genetic weakness, he reckoned. Reaching for the button at his fly, he offered, “Would you like to check my briefs? They’re black, too, but you probably wouldn’t take my word for that, either.”
The smile split into a smirk as she stood with her arms crossed, waiting. When he didn’t move, she cleverly arched a brow. “Well.”
She’d managed to surprise him, but he recovered quickly. Leaning closer, he whispered, “Sweetheart, if I drop trou, we’ll never leave this room.”
* * * *
As quickly as the laugh escaped, Savannah wished for a way to suck it back in. It held a bawdy intonation she’d rather not have implied, considering she was still mad as hell at him for the other night’s troubling display.
So, she went for mocking him. “You think I can’t resist you, Bird? Don’t flatter yourself.”
Thinking to dismiss the man and his super-inflated ego, she turned away. He swiftly caught her arm, spinning her back around to face him. Then he hauled her up so that their hips were flush, a precarious position in more ways than one. Her feet were off the floor, and his erection was blatant, potently pressed between them. His hands held her hips firmly as he plundered her mouth.
Out of sheer spite, she clawed at him, but he was stronger, by far, and perhaps as determined to prove his point as she to prove her defiance. No other man had ever driven her to behave like a feral feline. Disgusted with herself, and realizing the tactical mistake, she did a complete one-eighty and went utterly still, passive.
Seizing the advantage, Trevor pivoted, letting his hands slide to cup her bottom as he shoved her back against the wall. There was no way to fight the maneuver and nowhere for her legs to go but around him, which was exactly where she could guess he wanted them. No guesswork needed on her part. There wasn’t anywhere else Savannah would rather have been at this moment. Except maybe horizontal and naked, but this would do.
And plunder turned to sweet, slow, coaxing.
The shift—in position, in manner—was her undoing. She’d been gripping his shoulders for purchase. Now, she twined them around his neck, pulling them impossibly closer as she met the gentle rhythm of his tongue stroke for stroke. He shifted just enough to get his hand under her shirt and cup a breast, giving a light pinch to the pouting nipple beneath the lace.
Black, of course, thank you very much!
* * * *
The sexy snatch of her breath shot an arrow of arousal straight to his cock. Savannah’s lithe, lush body rubbed against his. Trevor felt the heat of her mound pressing against the length of his throbbing erection and rubbing up and down as if she were trying to assuage the ache he hoped he’d stirred.
“It�
�s just sex,” she managed, when she tore her mouth from his and reached for the button of his fly. “Normal. Basic. It’s just sex.”
Was she trying to convince him or herself? Trevor wondered.
She nipped at his jaw while working down his zipper, skimming her teeth along the line of shadowing stubble he hadn’t taken the time to shave, until she lightly bit his earlobe. His tongue plunged in to war with hers again, and he moaned into her mouth as she palmed his erection through his briefs. God, he was going to explode if he didn’t get his cock between her thighs ASAP.
Then her teeth were nipping at his neck, her tongue licking up the skin she set on fire. “Fuck me, Trevor. Make me scream before I melt.”
“Jesus, Georgia.” He brought his forehead to rest against hers for a moment and tried desperately to get a grip on his scattering brain cells. “I can’t do this.”
He felt the shudder ricochet through her system, felt her body buck like a wild filly. “Then put me the fuck down.”
Shoving away from him, she yanked the clip from her hair, shook out the mass of it. “End of the line, Bird. I don’t know what your problem is, but I can’t do this,” she stressed the words, his words she was tossing back. “This is the second one-eighty on our little roller coaster ride, and, quite frankly, it makes me sick.”
Tears glistened unshed in her lovely yet sad eyes. Clearly, she refused to let him see her cry. Why didn’t she just take a bat and slam him in the gut? It might’ve been easier to stomach than seeing her pain.
“Whatever your problem is,” she told him, perching her fists at her sassy hips while glaring at him, “I’m done worrying about it. We’ll get through tonight then I’m done. We’re done,” she clarified.
“Shit.” He scooped a hand through his hair. “Can’t you see? This isn’t just sex, Savannah. I want you so bad it hurts.”
Though it was his cock that throbbed, he fisted a hand over his heart, the organ that ached as if it had been ripped in two and stomped into the dirt. “No one’s ever made me hurt, Savannah. The other night. Now. I’ve lost my ability to be satisfied with solitude. That fucking bed, my house. My house! It’s empty without you.”
Snatching her up by her upper arms, he lifted her off her feet so that they were nose to nose. “You want me to fuck you? To make you scream? Fine. Just don’t expect me to be able to walk away when this is over.”
* * * *
The heart in her chest was beating so erratically she feared it might never again find its intended rhythm. His amazing show of strength was as staggering as his words. And dear God, no less staggering than the words that came to her mind in response.
She swallowed hard, licked her lips. “Who’s asking you to?”
For what felt like an eternity, their gazes locked and held. Then, slowly, as if he were reluctant to let her go, he eased her back to her feet.
“We do this, tonight, get the information,” he added. “Then you pack a bag and come home with me. Home, Savannah.”
“Now wait just a goddamn minute.” She poked a shaky finger at his chest. God, but the man had her turned inside out! “You don’t get to order me around, Trevor Bird. I’ll not set a precedence that you can just snap your fingers and I’ll jump. You want me, you ask nicely.”
Looking as if his world had leveled again, he smiled softly. “I love you, Savannah Beaumont. Marry me?”
Love. While her brain cleared from that momentary buzz, she worked on processing the rest at warp speed.
Marry.
This was crazy. Crazy, foolish talk. She’d been thinking he might say, “Move in with me, and we’ll see where this goes.”
He couldn’t really love her.
She couldn’t possibly love him.
Sure, she’d felt safe with him, from the moment she’d come face to face with him. It had little to do with his connection to Jackson or the fact that he was a detective. It had everything to do with those first startling seconds, in the pub, when she’d felt their connection and tried to rationalize it.
And how the hell did you take something so illogical and twist it to fit inside the realm of logic?
Like a square peg in a round hole, it just wasn’t supposed to fit. She’d tried to deny that it was anything special or different from the attraction she’d experienced with other men. It was a useful lie to ease her conscience but a lie nonetheless.
The truth? What she was feeling scared her to her marrow.
Trevor was unlike any man she’d ever been with. Right from the beginning he’d chosen to believe in her. He’d opened his home to her, tucked her in that first night, ever the gentleman. Then he’d agreed to help her as best he could while trying not to jeopardize her career. He’d cooked for her, given her his sweatshirt, and made her laugh. Made her scream. Made her weep with the beauty of his lovemaking, of what they created in each other’s arms.
Hell, he’d stood on his head for her. Silly, small things that added up to the fact that she liked him very, very much as a person, not just as an insanely attractive man who’d pleasured her outrageously in bed. His intoxicating kisses, the phenomenal sex, he left her body weak and her mind numb.
Never had she known such passion. Never had she ever wanted another man the way she wanted Trevor.
Deep down, she had to face facts. She’d been half in love with him already, another insanely swift reaction that was so out of character for her, since the first time they’d made love, maybe even before, when she’d touched him in the bar and felt their hearts beating as if they’d been synchronized.
What about focusing on her career?
What about his? There were so many variables to be weighed.
And the heaviest of all: How could she say no to him and leave her own heart bleeding out in her aching chest?
Maybe this lightning-fast attraction would soon fizzle out and dissipate as quickly as it had struck.
And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t.
Risks, she thought. The greater the risk, the greater the reward.
Her head was spinning with doubts, with questions. She’d never been in love before, not wholly, truly in love so deep it hurt. How was she to know if this was real? How could he seem so sure? It hurt like hell, of that she could attest.
Honesty. They both deserved nothing less. “Trevor, I...I know exactly what I want to say, and that scares the hell out of me. I need time to think, to process it all. Please don’t be angry if I ask you to give me a little more time.”
The hand at her chin slid into her hair as he gently pulled her lips back to his. “Angry?” he scoffed. “I’m dying here, Savannah, but I won’t push, at least not yet. I want you to be sure. Let’s go over everything again. Let’s just get through the next couple of hours. Then we’ll focus on us.”
Us. God, what a wonderful notion, Savannah thought.
“Right. Refocus.” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Then another. “Don’t get caught up in worrying over the big picture, the whole nine innings.” She unwittingly rolled her head, her shoulders, to limber up. Envisioning him at the plate, warming up for a pitch, she grinned. “Just take it one out at a time. Three outs per inning. Winning the game takes patience and perseverance.”
When she opened her eyes again, Trevor was staring right at her with those sensual lips tugging in a big, goofy smile. “That’s my girl.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Yes. Oh, God, yes, she was.
* * * *
Timing really was everything. The guard was on schedule to within a minute and thirty seconds of where she’d had him pegged on the blueprint. In five minutes or less, he’d be taking his first break.
In the dimly lit stairwell on the main floor, Savannah whispered, “I’ll guess two minutes tops for him to refill his coffee in the employee lounge and grab a donut. Then he’ll be back in front of the monitors. Plenty of time for us to slip across the hall and swipe our way into the next stairwell.”
“Plenty of time to find
out if my re-wire job on the video feed worked.” If it had, the feed would simply loop indefinitely until they were done. She had to remind him to be sure and disconnect the little device he’d gotten from a trusted surveillance tech who’d owed him a favor. It wasn’t worth the risk, leaving incriminating traces that could be tied to either of them.
She couldn’t help but take it as a sign of luck that her planning was right on target. All they had to do was cross the main hallway, take the second set of stairs up to the fifth floor, get in, get the info, and get out. Easy. Or so she tried to tell herself, psyching herself up for success.
Slipping the keycard from her back pocket, Savannah took a breath and opened the door to the stairwell no wider than a sliver of an inch. Listening for the guard and finding only silence, she pushed it open just another sliver. Seconds ticked by and then a blur of movement indicated the guard was on the move.
She counted to ten. “That’s our cue.”
“Ladies first,” Trevor quipped.
A few silent steps, a perfect swipe, and they were in. Trevor held the handle of the door so that it closed without a sound behind them.
The stairwell was dimly lit with narrow, overhead fluorescents. Soundlessly, they climbed. Savannah took a steadying breath, and despite the fact that her heart was pounding loud as a drum in her ears, stepped out into the hall.
Nothing but the white noises of the building at rest, the hum of a nearby water cooler, and the flow of cooled air circulating through the A/C unit greeted her invasion.
Another swipe of her keycard and they were inside the mayor’s office.
They took just a moment to let their eyes adjust to the dark. Then with Savannah’s mental blueprint of the rooms that had practically become her second—or was it third?—home, she guided them along without the use of a flashlight.
Trevor had a slender LED light hidden away in his pocket. He’d offered her its mate earlier, but they’d decided to use them only out of absolute necessity, not wishing to draw the guard’s unwanted attention should he decide to make an unscheduled round.
Saving Savannah (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 10