No Chance in Hell

by Jerrie Alexander

  “I’ll bet Kay missed their friendship.”

  “Yeah. It’s all good between them now. Holly was working for Child Protective Services with Kay when she uncovered a human-trafficking ring. The bastards tried to kidnap Kay a couple of times. They failed, so they took Holly and offered to swap her for evidence. She took some rough treatment before we got to her.”

  Marcus went on to explain that their college friend, Jake Donovan, who they’d thought had been killed in Afghanistan, had turned out to be alive and working for the criminals. A tumor on Jake’s brain had robbed him of his memory, and his boss had given him the name Johnny Darling. “Holly touched something inside Jake, restoring at least part of his humanity. He kept her from being raped and killed.”

  “She must be quite a woman to have survived such an ordeal. Her story makes me feel like a whiner.”

  The compassion in Chris’s voice touched a place deep in Marcus’s soul. He picked up a long blond curl off her shoulder and wrapped the silky threads around his finger. “You’re one of the strongest, bravest women I’ve ever known. You haven’t whined one time.”

  “You’re being kind. Learning your friend Jake was alive had to have been a shock.”

  “For sure. His helicopter had been shot down, and we’d heard everyone on board had died. But he’d been flown to a military hospital where they patched up his injuries, but also found a growth on his brain. He was delusional, convinced the doctors were going to kill him, and so he ran. After he was arrested, the military took him back to the hospital, where they removed the tumor. Kay says he’ll be released soon. We’ll make sure he has a place to go and people to care for him.”

  “You really are a tight-knit group,” Chris said softly. Her words were slurred and thick with sleep.

  “We go way back. But we’re not an exclusive club. There’s always room for more.” He’d almost added her specifically, but he’d caught himself. Instead, he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

  He’d been right when he’d told her an affair would end badly. Right now, she was in need of that white knight on his fiery steed to protect her. He wasn’t a knight, but he’d die trying to keep her safe. The two of them came from different worlds. She might not know it now, but when the case ended and she could think straighter, she’d go back to her affluent lifestyle. That’s how it should be, and he was fine with that. Or he would be.

  ****

  Marcus stood in the doorway, holding two cups of steaming coffee. Damn, he hated to wake her. Naked as the day she was born, she’d pulled up the sheet and covered her luscious breasts. Her beauty and strength were proof enough there was a god.

  She rolled his direction. Opened her eyes. Her gaze strolled down his torso and back up, reminding him that he wore nothing but a towel.

  “Good morning. Is one of those for me?”

  “Sure thing.” He sat next to her on the bed and handed her a coffee. He shifted his weight and then adjusted his towel, as it was dangerously close to falling off.

  “Thank you.” She held the cup under her nose, breathing deeply.

  “My pleasure.” He made an effort not to stare at her bare shoulders, opting to let her drink her coffee.

  Much to his disappointment, she pushed herself up, taking the sheet with her, and adding his pillow behind her head. “You’re awake early. What have you been doing?”

  “Showered and shaved, but mostly I watched you. You’re beautiful when you’re asleep, almost angelic.” She hadn’t been an angel during their lovemaking. In fact, she’d surprised him by being aggressive, so he added, “Unlike last night.”

  Her eyes widened. One hand grabbed the sheet and pulled it under chin. She grinned mischievously, and her cheeks flushed. “Oh. Right. Last night.”

  Marcus set his cup on the nightstand and moved closer to her. He tugged the sheet from her grip and pulled the cover back, stopping at the edges of her nipples.

  “I’ll be damned. You do blush all over.”

  “An affliction I wish I could control. I hate blushing so easily.” The soft skin at the top of her breasts colored as she spoke.

  “I wondered how far it went.”

  “So that’s what last night was all about. A fact-finding expedition?”

  “Exactly. Since we have a few hours, I have a few more places I want to explore.” She was so beautiful that he had to touch her. He swept her hair across the pillow, fanning it out with his fingers.

  “It seems we have a lot of ground to cover.” She tugged his towel loose and jumped out of bed. “You had your shower. Now I want mine.”

  She took off at a run to the bathroom with him right behind. He stopped directly behind her at the glass shower door, slid his hands around, and took her breasts in his hands. She reached back, grasped his butt cheeks and tugged him closer, pushing his erection into her flesh.

  “That’s a strong grip you have.” He rolled her nipples with his fingertips. They pebbled, growing hard under his touch. Her body reacted perfectly every time.

  “Hmm.” She moaned, reaching in to turn on the water.

  His phone chirped from the other room. “Not answering it.”

  “Good.” She stepped inside. She raised one eyebrow, pushed her hair back over her shoulders, and extended her hand. “You coming?”

  He chuckled at the double entendre. “I’ll make sure that I don’t too soon.”

  He stepped under the warm spray and took her in his arms. Looking up at him with mischief in her eyes, she was the very definition of sex. How had he gotten lucky enough to be in the shower with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen?

  Chris slowly sank to her knees, dropping kisses on the way down. She wrapped her hand around his erection, stroking back and forth, before taking him into her mouth. She braced one hand on his thigh for balance as she pulled him deeper, her tongue making circles around him. He’d just told her he wouldn’t come too soon, but much more and he’d explode. Jesus, he hated to stop her.

  “You better stand up.” He caught her under the arms, pulled her to her feet, and then turned her back to him. “Hand me the soap.”

  He lathered his hands and started with her shoulders, rubbing and massaging down each arm and back up. Slowly, he soaped every inch of her, enjoying the sighs as he washed her breasts, belly, and between her legs. He kneaded, stroked, and smoothed her body, committing her soft skin to memory. The delicate curves and valleys of her body molded perfectly with his. The only word that came to mind was perfection.

  He hated to release her, but it took two hands to get the top off the small bottle of shampoo. Burying his fingers in her hair, he scrubbed her scalp. Her sultry moans were almost more than he could take.

  “Turn around. Let’s rinse your hair.”

  She moved slowly, smiling up at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning her head back under the running water. “Much more of this, and you’ll have to carry me back to bed.”

  Chapter 16

  Chris had never been so pampered. Never been ministered to with the tenderness Marcus was showing. Never been so insanely turned on.

  She finished rinsing her hair, stood on her tiptoes, and then kissed him. Deep and hard, she delivered the message. “Make love to me.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Marcus held her hand as she stepped onto the rug by the shower. He slid a soft terrycloth towel over her body. She closed her eyes and let him take control. As he dried her, he trailed soft kisses on her skin. He circled her nipple with his tongue, and she buried her hands in his wet hair, holding his head in place. “More,” she whispered.

  His cell phone rang again. “Damn it.”

  “You better answer it.” She pushed his shoulder, indicating he should go.

  “Don’t start without me.” He wrapped the towel around his hips, walked to the table next to the bed, and then picked up his cell. Frustration clouded his face. “It’s Nate. I should take the
call.”

  Chris nodded, knowing their time alone had ended. Reality had reared its ugly head. She gathered her clothes and returned to the bathroom. She slipped on her new linen slacks, a short-sleeve blouse, and then went to work on her hair. The hotel dryer and her brand new brush were different from the ones she had at home, but she was thankful to have them. For the first time in days, she didn’t look like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. A swipe of lipstick, a little mascara, and her new flats had her ready for the day.

  Marcus was still on the phone, speaking so softly she couldn’t understand what he said. He’d slipped on his jeans and stood with his back to her, looking out over the city.

  He turned toward her, and her heart jumped into her throat. His eyes flashed cold, sending her stomach plummeting. When he saw her, his expression mellowed too late. The reality check had been received. She got it. Marcus had returned to work. It was his job to keep her alive, and it was time they got busy finding the killer.

  Chris crossed to him. God, she wanted to wrap her arms around his waist. She refrained, not knowing how he’d react now that their personal time was over. Instead, she rubbed the heel of her hand over her chest, hoping to ease the dull ache in her heart.

  “We’ll meet you at the office.” Marcus disconnected and shoved the cell into his pocket.

  “What happened?”

  “The bastard left a message for us on the office phone. Kay found it when she and Nate opened this morning.”

  “More signs of aggression.”

  “Yeah. They’re becoming more frequent. We’ll give Kay back her car, and then I’ll call that rental place that brings your ride to you.”

  A loud knock sent Chris reaching for her purse. It surprised her that she’d completely forgotten her gun, because for a long time, it had never been far away. Her fingers wrapped around the grip, its cool handle giving her comfort.

  “I ordered breakfast. It’s room service.” Marcus checked the peephole, opened the door, and directed the young man to put the tray on the bar. He signed the check and locked up after the guy left. “Come eat before these eggs get any colder.”

  “I’m not sure I can keep food down.”

  He uncovered the plates, filling the room with the scent of bacon. Chris’s stomach rolled, but he extended his hand, and she couldn’t refuse. She joined him and perched on a barstool.

  “You strike me as an orange juice kind of girl.” He set a glass in front of her. “Am I right?”

  “Yes.” She took a bite of toast, and it tasted surprisingly good. So she took another. And another. Pausing to take a drink of juice, she discovered her plate was almost empty.

  “Good thing you weren’t hungry.” Humor danced at the corners of his sensuous mouth.

  “You’re humoring me. What did the guy say in the phone message that made you angry?”

  “I was trying not to worry you, at least not until you’d had a chance to eat.” Marcus leaned back in his chair. “The call came in around midnight. Nate said the guy was either drunk, stoned, or so pissed he couldn’t talk straight.”

  “What did he say?” She sighed, and he instantly picked up on her impatience.

  “His message was that people who break promises deserve to suffer and then die.”

  “Promises?”

  “Whether real or perceived, he believes you’ve broken one.”

  “What about the women he’s killed? Did they break a promise, too?”

  “I think we need to separate you and your sister’s case from the other victims. We have no idea if they’d been stalked, but he’s damn sure stalking you. Maybe he stalked Chelsea, too. Nate and Kay will locate some of her friends. They’ll ask different questions than the police did during their investigation.”

  Marcus’s words were like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face. “You really believe he’s someone we know.”

  “It’s one possibility. If we operate under that assumption, we try to figure out where you came in contact with him.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “We dig into your past.”

  “That’s already been done.”

  “We’ll redo it and dig deeper. If necessary, we’ll go all the way back to the time you were in an orphanage.”

  His logic escaped her. Chris couldn’t think that opening those files could help. Still, if he wanted to take a look, there was nothing in there to hide.

  “I was seven. How could this be remotely related to back then?”

  “I understand. It’s like trying to catch smoke. What have we got to lose?”

  “Nothing. Texas adoption records are sealed, but since my parents and biological mother are dead, there shouldn’t be a problem getting the court to release them. I can call the law firm my dad used.”

  “That’s okay. We’ve got one we use.”

  “Then I’d like to go listen to the entire message.” Not waiting for his answer, she rose and went to the bedroom.

  In the bottom of the closet sat the suitcases. She understood why Marcus had bought two. Inevitably, they’d go their separate ways. This way there’d be no sorting or dividing. They’d each just grab their bag and go. That thought wrapped a blanket of sadness around her shoulders. Had she fooled around and become attached to a man she’d known only a few days? So they’d made love. She had to remember that this was nothing more than two people who were sexually attracted to each other.

  Chris quickly folded her belongings, filling maybe half the suitcase. She scooped the toiletries into her arms and dumped them next to her new pair of tennis shoes. If she could keep it together until they checked out, she’d be fine. It was just the next few minutes that she had to pretend nothing more than sex had happened between them.

  “Chris,” Marcus said, using that husky tone.

  If he was expecting female theatrics, he was in for a surprise.

  “I’m ready when you are.” She popped the handle up and pulled her belongings past him. “I’ll wait in here.”

  His hand shot out, catching her and spinning her around.

  “Chris,” he said again.

  She really needed him to stop saying her name that way. “Don’t give me the speech. Okay? I’m a big girl. We had a good time, but now it’s time for Alice to leave Wonderland.”

  He tilted his head and stared at her. “You call it whatever you want. Truth is, a lot more happened here than a ‘good’ time.”

  Before she could react, he jerked her against his chest, cupped the back of her head, and covered her lips with his. She sighed and leaned into him. Hard and unrelenting, he ravaged her mouth with his tongue. Chris’s knees wobbled, and she surrendered, matching his passion with a strength she hadn’t known she had.

  His hands moved to her shoulders, and he stepped back, separating them. Dark, stormy, brown eyes pinned her in place. She should walk away, but try as she might, her feet would not respond.

  “If it wasn’t important that we get moving, I’d—”

  She stopped him by placing her fingers on his lips. “You’re right. We have work to do.” She prayed her rubbery legs would hold up as she shouldered her purse and walked to the door.

  ****

  DaVinci turned his head away from the brain-piercing bright light. That simple movement set off explosions inside his brain. Maybe he’d keep his eyes closed and go back to sleep.

  A stench assaulted his senses and made lying dormant impossible. Now that he was awake, he not only needed to take a leak, he had to figure out what smelled so horrible.

  He forced his eyes open, moaning at the sensation of dragging his eyelids across sandpaper. Last night slowly came into focus. At least part of it. He remembered the owner of the restaurant insisting he and Michelangelo take a cab home. God, it hurt to move. How much wine had they consumed after they’d returned to his place? Had he and his mentor actually gone out again?

  Fuck! He’d called that private dick’s number. What had he said? Between the liquor and anger, he wa
s sure he’d gone off the deep end. He sucked in a breath and sat up on the side of the bed. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. A scream gurgled in the back of his throat. His knuckles were raw and swollen. The skin was actually busted open. His hands, shirt, and pants were covered in dried blood. A quick scan determined it wasn’t his, so where’d it come from? Whose was it?

  He had no memory of killing anyone. Think. They’d drank a little more, but the rest was a blank. He forced himself to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom, passing on the way his six-hundred-dollar shoes that were spattered with blood. He flushed the toilet, stripped off the filthy clothes, and then crawled into the shower. Pain shot from his fingers as he held them under the warm water. He gagged at the sight of red swirling around his feet.

  He had to remember. Had he killed someone? Had Michelangelo been with him? Many times they’d talked about working together again, but had never actually done it.

  Too many unanswered questions rattled around in his aching head. After he’d carefully cleaned the shower, he dried off, dressed and went to the kitchen. Once a cup of coffee was brewing, he located his cell and dialed his friend.

  “It’s too early to talk,” Michelangelo mumbled.

  “Wake up. This is important. Besides, it’s almost noon.”

  “Shit. I have things to do. I’ll call you later.”

  “No,” DaVinci insisted. “Why did I wake up covered in blood? What happened?”

  A muffled laugh sent shivers up his spine. “You don’t remember. Do you?”

  “No. I tried, but it won’t come.”

  “It will. Relax. We had great fun.”

  “Who was she?”

  “A hooker we picked up off a street corner.”

  DaVinci’s knees gave way, and he slid down the wall. “Where is she?”

  “Sleazy motel down on Trellet Avenue. Shitty, roach-infested dump where she had a working arrangement with the manager.”