Her laughter bubbled up, clear and bright. “Jesus, Trevor. Is this your strategy for wearing me down about the proposal?”
Contemplating her suggestion with a lopsided grin, he commented, “Maybe. Think it will work?”
“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Arching a brow, she ran her nails down his back to grip his ass as she cradled him within her sumptuous body.
She arched her hips, gasping excitedly when the head of his stiff, swollen cock rubbed her clit. Her sheath was dripping wet, molten hot, from a mixture of arousal, those incredible, multiple orgasms, and Trevor’s thick, warm cream.
He should have been sated, hell, exhausted, but he wanted her again so badly he ached. Would he ever get enough of her?
“God, but you can be so persuasive,” she admitted.
“Stubborn, I’ve been told more than once,” he chuckled. “I never back down when it’s something I want, Savannah. And what I want more than anything in the world is you.”
He sank his teeth into the exposed stem of her throat and sank his cock to the hilt in her throbbing pussy. Groaning as she instantly clenched, milking him, holding him buried deep, he murmured, “forever, my cantkiya. My love,” he added, giving her the English.
* * * *
“Oh, Trevor.”
She was powerless against the flow of tears. She clung to him, weeping, and was weeping still when the fire exploded in her center, sweeping over her body until she felt as if every nerve ending was searing with pleasure. He’d somehow managed to turn her, a relatively strong, independent woman, into the consummate, blubbering female. Damn him. But with Trevor, there was just no fighting the surge of overwhelming emotions that swamped her whenever they came together.
While she sobbed his name, he continued to hammer himself into her. His massive body went still, and his hips thrust forward as a ferocious growl erupted from his chest. She reveled in the feel of his thick length spurting his release against the deepest recesses of her womb. One day, she had to admit, she hoped that fruitful gift might take root and give her a child. His child.
Flooded by the true depth of her emotions, she tried to tell him, but her throat suddenly swelled shut and burned with tears.
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “When I can feel my legs again, I’ll carry you to the shower.”
She swallowed hard and offered, “Maybe we should call a truce and agree, just for once, to shower separately.”
“Trying to get rid of me already are you?”
“Never,” she promised, combing her fingers through his thick, midnight black strands. “I’m just not quite certain I can survive another of our showers.”
Laughing, he corrected, “Another orgasm, you mean.”
“Well, hell, Trevor, when it takes every fiber of my body and melts it to liquid gold...”
“I could promise to keep my hands to myself but, hell, Georgia, you know I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I can’t keep my hands off of you, but I promise not to make you come again ‘til you ask for it.”
“Like that’s any deal at all. Once you get your hands on me, I won’t be asking, I’ll be begging.”
He kissed her slowly, tenderly. “Does this mean you aren’t going to shower with me?”
“What do you think?”
Scooping her up, he carried her to the shower. “I think, Miss Beaumont, that I am successfully wearing you down.”
Throwing her head back, she laughed. “One mind-numbing climax at a time.”
“Minx.”
“You love me. You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
He stepped under the steam. “God, ain’t it the truth?”
* * * *
Savannah had just wrapped her blissfully sated body in a silky white robe when Trevor’s cell went off.
“Shit,” Trevor snapped as he read the display. “It’s Audie.”
They’d been lucky so far, really, but she’d been waiting, inadvertently holding her breath, for just such a moment. And now, sadly, the bubble burst.
“I have to take this.”
Smiling softly, Savannah replied, “Of course you do.” She’d known this intrusion would come. She’d expected to feel perhaps a measure of jealousy and maybe even some anger that anything would hone in on her time with him. In the end, there was only understanding.
She understood that he was needed to protect and serve more than just Savannah Beaumont, and Trevor Bird was damn good at his job. One of Detroit’s finest. Pride, she noted, was now hanging on the coattails of her understanding. And surrounding it all was love. Love was enough to tamp down the fear of what ifs that ran rampant through her mind.
What if he was hurt?
What if he didn’t come back to her?
Love would get them through the first. The second would likely be the most devastating hurdle of her life because she knew she’d never find another love like the one they shared. But even the memory of such an astounding love would be enough to see her through, she told herself. She had to believe.
“Break-in with a double homicide,” he explained as he clipped his phone to his belt once again. He’d dressed while getting the rundown from his partner, and the ends of his hair were still damp from their shower. “Some high-profile bank manager and his wife. The chief pulled us personally for this one.”
“Being the best has its sacrifices,” she commented, sliding her arms up to wrap around his neck as they indulged in a lingering kiss.
Looking down at her, he seemed to be memorizing her face, she thought. Or maybe it only seemed that way because she was memorizing his. “I don’t know how late I’ll be.”
From a small table by the door, she took out a spare key. “I’ll leave the chain off.” She pressed a finger over his lips, stifling his protest. “There’re the other locks, Trevor. And you said yourself, the chain is useless, the easiest to break if anyone really wanted to get in.”
“Fine.” His tone said it was anything but. Grabbing her up, he stamped a quick kiss to her lips. “I love you.”
“And I love you. Be safe out there, Trevor, please.” Laying her cheek against his heart, she pleaded, “Come back to me.”
“Always,” he promised.
Waiting on the other side of the door—he told her he wasn’t leaving until he’d heard the unmistakable click of all three locks sliding home—he gave a rap of his knuckles and another muted goodbye through the wood. Empty, Savannah decided. Damn it all, the apartment just felt utterly empty in a way it hadn’t before once Trevor was gone.
She took the time to gather her scattered clothes, to straighten the bed a bit before plumping the pillows. TV didn’t interest her in the least, but there was a new paperback novel she’d picked up. Maybe reading would—
The emails! She nearly smacked her forehead. They hadn’t gotten around to reading the last of them. And with good reason, she laughed, because they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. Oh, how she desperately hoped they never would.
“Okay, so he works, I’ll work,” she told herself as she settled into the chair at her desk and uploaded the info from the thumb drive. “Coffee! Must have caffeine!”
With the decree and a giggle, she went to the kitchen to start a pot. Pitifully lonely, she decided, and a tad pathetic, perhaps, if she was reduced to talking to herself. Shrugging off her own absurdity, she reached for the filters.
The doorbell rang.
Smiling, she went to check the peephole. What had Trevor forgotten? She’d given him the spare key. Frowning, she hesitated before finally reaching for the first of her multiple deadbolts.
“Good evening, Mr. Rothschild.” She smiled thinly, clutching the top folds of her robe. The lateness of the hour, the oddity of having her employer in her home, thinking of his son, the case, and the info on her laptop, Savannah fought down a tremendous shiver.
He breezed in, much as Trevor had on his infamous first visit. “So sorry to bother you this late, Miss Beaumont, but I’m afraid I forgot to
give you a message from this afternoon. While you were out to lunch, a woman called and asked to speak with you.”
He glanced about, nervously, as if he sensed the scent of another presence, but could find no evidence of such. Had he known the true depths of her secrecy, he might’ve recognized the lingering aroma of passion.
“Oh. You could have called.”
Don’t snap at him!
Steadying the nervous trill in her voice, she added, “I mean, you didn’t have to trouble yourself, coming over so late. Surely it could have waited until—”
“No.” He cut her off as his eyes narrowed hawkishly. “No, I’m afraid it can’t. It seems you’ve been digging where you don’t belong, Savannah. That makes me very sad.”
More nervous now, she instinctively stepped back. “Whatever do you mean?”
From the hip pocket of his jacket, he produced a small pistol and aimed it at her chest. “The brooch. I don’t know how you found it. A jeweler called today to say she’d found someone who remembered the design. It would only be a matter of time before you put it together. If the man described me—”
“—You! Oh, God. I thought maybe Eric.” Defeated, her shoulders dropped as her entire body sagged in disbelief. Fear clawed its way along her spine. “There was a flat, and I found the brooch in the wheel well of his Volvo. I recognized it from Tori’s picture, the one the media and the police posted everywhere as soon as she was listed missing. She’d worked with us, so, of course, I paid very close attention to the reports.”
“Ah, that explains it then. I had to dispose of her somehow, didn’t I? At the time, Eric’s car had mine blocked in. The fool, he was so drunk I couldn’t even rouse him to move his damn car.”
“Dispose.” The word was sticky, acidic on her tongue. “Why on earth would you hurt her?”
“I had no choice. Oh, I loved her, as much as anyone can love a mistress.” He shrugged as if she’d been less than a piece of lint on his sleeve, as if killing her had been nothing more than plucking said lint and tossing it to the trash. Savannah wanted to puke at his callous nature. “She learned the value in pleasing a man with influence, and I agreed to keep her happy with the apartment, glittery trinkets, baubles.”
“The brooch,” Savannah filled in.
Who was this man, holding her at gunpoint, admitting to murder?
This was not the man she worked for. This was a killer, a cold-blooded killer, who was now aiming his attention and his gun at her.
Keep him talking, she reasoned, and think! Think!
What could she use as a weapon?
How could she maneuver him so that she might surprise him with a jab to the gut, anything to knock him off balance?
The gun heightened the risk of making a wrong move that would still see her harmed. But she would rather take a bullet over the prospect of being shoved in the trunk of his car.
Sweat borne of her nightmares dampened her palms. Her hands fisted in response.
She might go down, but by God, it wouldn’t be without one helluva fight.
“Yes, but she was careless, you see,” he rambled on. “Getting pregnant. Threatening to go to my wife. I couldn’t let that happen and, Victoria, the girl simply refused to be reasonable.”
Another shiver scurried over Savannah’s spine. The nerve of this man! “Reasonable? You got her pregnant, and you call her careless. Hypocrite!”
“You’d do well to watch your tongue, Miss Beaumont. I’d rather not cause a scene here and now. We wouldn’t want one of your neighbors to get hurt, now would we? If you’d be so kind as to get dressed. We’re going on a little trip.”
“No! I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Waving the weapon, he threatened, “Oh, I believe you’ll do exactly as you’re told.”
“So I can end up like Tori?” she mocked. The icy glare of his eyes froze her to the spot. “Where is she? If you’re going to kill me as well, can’t you at least give me that much?”
Apparently unable to find fault with her logic, he admitted, “The lake house. It’s always been one of my favorite spots. A pity, now it only brings me bitterness to think of it. Fitting, really, as she and I spent so many weekends there together.”
Lake St. Claire, she knew the spot well. Ironically, Savannah had worked with the agent to find the precious piece of real estate and brokered the deal that had set the mayor back several hundred grand. It was a steal, really, considering the market value of the property.
“You should be ashamed of yourself. A grown man, with a grown son, running around like a damned horny teenager. And murder, for Christ’s sake. Poor Constance, how she dotes on you. Why? How could you do this to her?”
His derisive laugh set her teeth on edge. “She’s a lovely trophy. The perfect politician’s wife, but the bitch is quite frigid in bed. And a man has needs, Miss Beaumont. Tori was young, malleable, so eager to please me. Surely, you can understand the allure.”
What she understood was that he was sick. Sick in the head. He’d let his cock rule his actions, and once that unfortunate decision had produced an unwanted child, he’d stooped to murder. Taking the life of the woman he’d knocked up and his offspring, in the hopes of covering the tracks of his stupidity.
“Unbelievable.”
“Come now, you’ve had me prattling long enough.” Taking her by the arm, he pressed the gun to her side and nudged her forward. “Time to get dressed.”
Trevor. Oh God, Trevor. There was still so much she planned to do with the life ahead of her, the life she’d thought to live. Marriage. Children. Trevor was still waiting on an answer for his proposal.
Dear God, please, let her live to give it to him!
“Must you watch?”
“You don’t think I’d trust you not to try and call for help. Give me more credit, Miss Beaumont.”
The hallway was short. Her stalling steps brought her ever closer to the bedroom. It was inevitable. Maybe she could make a dash for the bathroom, snag the portable handset by the bed on her way, lock herself inside and call Trevor.
“I seem to have given you the benefit of the doubt on a lot of things, Mr. Mayor. Suspecting your pampered, depraved son. I never gave a moment’s thought that it was you I should have been afraid of.”
They stepped into the room, and she went directly for a chest of drawers near the corner, just beyond the bed. It registered briefly that there were a few sharp-edged picture frames within reach. Perhaps she could use the corner of one as a weapon. She’d aim for the eyes, Savannah decided.
“People seldom see what’s right under their noses, Miss Beaumont,” he chided.
There was a click, the unmistakable, ominous sound of the safety being removed from a gun. Then Trevor’s voice, sharp and clear as honed steel, piercing the air and sending waves of sagging relief to Savannah’s knocking knees.
* * * *
“Or what’s right behind their heads, Mr. Mayor. Put the gun down,” Trevor instructed. “And step away from Miss Beaumont. Now!”
Rothschild refused to flinch, refused to lower his weapon. Trevor kept the barrel pressed to the back of the man’s skull, determined not to see one hair of Savannah’s head harmed.
“Shoot me,” Rothschild taunted. “But I’ll take her down with me.”
Fuck!
“Don’t play cowboy with me, you piece of shit.” Even as he said it, Trevor slammed the butt of the weapon into the sweet spot right at the base of Rothschild’s neck. The older man gave a low grunt and crumbled. Trevor sidestepped just in time to make a sweep with his elbow and dislodge the pistol from the mayor’s hand.
Standing over the mayor’s unconscious form, Trevor shook his head. “Stupid fuck.” He dropped to a knee and quickly cuffed the man’s hands behind his back before he could come to and try to harm Savannah, or anyone, again.
“Oh, Trevor.” Savannah threw her arms around him and melted into his embrace. Sobbing as she pressed her face to his chest. “He killed Tori, not Eric! He was
going to, to, t-take me out to the lake. I know where she is. I know where he took her. Poor Tori.”
“Shh. Savannah, baby, you did good. You’re safe now. And we’ll find her body, give her family closure. Come on with me now. I’ve got you.”
He drew her out of the bedroom while using his cell to call it in. “This is Detective Bird, badge number four seven one four nine six, requesting back-up, a couple of black and whites for an arrest. Two-fifty-three West Carlson, apartment eight-C.”
“I never suspected.” She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “You came back. How did you know? What about the call out?”
After assuring himself that Savannah was safely locked away in the apartment, Trevor had opted for the stairs over waiting for the elevator. He’d just been coming out of the stairwell when an inexplicable shiver had coursed over his skin, causing the hairs on the back of neck to stand at attention.
“I caught sight of him, in the lobby,” Trevor added. “Nothing about him being here made sense, and I knew without a doubt where he was headed, just not exactly why. Thank God you gave me the key, or I’d never have been able to slip in without startling him.”
“Do you know how insanely easy it must have been for him to get into this building?” she asked. His eyes narrowed in on her. “Right. Of course you do. Oh, Trevor, he was right. Rothschild was right! It was right under my nose. All I could smell was his spoiled rotten son.”
Stroking her hair, he crooned, “Ah, Georgia. Obviously, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with those two. I’m sorry, baby, I know I promised, but I think you’re out of a job.”
She laughed, pressing her cheek to this chest. “Oh, but I can think of a million ways to occupy the time while I look for another. If you’re willing.”
“I live to serve, baby doll.” Scooping her up, he carried her out into the hallway. The sounds of sirens grew louder as the emergency vehicles he’d summoned raced ever closer to the apartment building. “And I’m pushing now on the marriage proposal, Savannah. My patience is worn thin, especially after this, so you’d better—”
Saving Savannah (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 12