by Julie Miller
She almost giggled at the teasing remark, but she was too caught up in the drugging effect of his body heat seeping into hers. The tightness in her chest eased, and the shivering abated. The longer Trent held her, the longer he whispered those deeply pitched assurances in her ear, the stronger she felt. The panic lessened. Her jumbled thoughts cleared.
He stroked his fingers through her hair, pressed a kiss to the crown. “You’re safe. You’re fine. Tyler’s fine. And I’m too big to bring down with a piddly-ass shot like this wound.”
His wound. It needed to be properly tended. Katie stiffened her arms and pushed against his chest. “Trent—”
“I’m fine, too. You stay right here. This is what I need, remember?”
Katie wasn’t sure if she’d dozed for a little while or if lying with Trent, bundled beneath the covers to chase away the wintry chill that had derailed her for a few moments, was all the healing she needed to feel more like her normal self again. To believe again that she and her son were safe. To feel as though the mistakes of her past couldn’t touch her tonight. Not in Trent’s bed. Not in his arms.
It was sometime later, when the wind of a winter storm outside rattled the windowpanes and startled her awake, that Katie realized she’d never returned to her own bed. And now that she was feeling rested and warm—and she couldn’t hear any sounds of a boy or dog stirring—she admitted that she didn’t want to leave.
“Better?” The drowsy male voice greeted her from the pillow beside her.
Katie smiled. “Much.”
“This is nice, Katie Lee Rinaldi.” Trent’s fingers were stroking lazy circles along her back and hip, and Katie discovered her fingers taking similar liberties across the warm skin and ticklish curls of his chest. “But you know what else I need?”
Her hand stilled and she pushed herself up onto her elbow. Did he want her to finish taping his bandage? Did he need one of the painkillers the doctor had prescribed? “What is it? Anything I can do—”
“I need you to trust me.”
“I do.” She leaned over him, trying to assess the message in those gunmetal eyes.
“I need you to trust us—even if it’s just for tonight.”
Oh. Her body tingled in anticipation. “Trent, are you asking me to—”
He silenced her question with a sweetly lingering kiss. His patience with her was as maddening as it was exquisite. His lips ignited a slow burn that seemed to travel from her mouth to every point of her body where his hips and thigh and roaming hand touched her, creating a network of pathways that crisscrossed inside her, filling her with heat and an edgy sort of desire that demanded more than easygoing kisses and tender caresses.
“I know you need me to take things slow.” He combed his fingers into the dark waves of her hair that brushed against his chest and tucked them behind her ear, cupping the side of her neck. “I need your brain to help me put Leland Asher away for good, but I need something else from you, too. I need to touch you to believe I didn’t almost lose you tonight. I need to feel your confidence and caring to keep me strong. I need to feel your strength, holding me, accepting everything I want to give you and be for you. I’m not just asking for sex, sunshine. I need that closeness we’ve always shared. I—”
She shushed him with a finger over his mouth. “I think I need that, too. I want all the things I think you can give me. For tonight.”
“It’ll change everything between us.”
Sliding her arms around his neck, Katie fell back onto the pillow, pulling him to her. “I think it already has changed.”
And then there was no more conversation. There were only hungry lips and greedy hands and Trent’s muscular body moving over hers.
He unwrapped her like a gift, untying her robe, unbuttoning her pajama top. He slipped his hands inside, searing her skin with every sweeping touch, every squeeze of a breast. With his thumb, he teased the sensitive tips to tiny pebbles, generating little frissons of electricity beneath every touch, feeding the current of heat and pressure stirring deep in her womb.
Carefully avoiding his injury, Katie swept her hands over the smooth skin of his back, felt the muscles of his chest quiver and jump beneath her exploring fingers. She sampled the sandpapery line of his chin and jaw, and smiled at the responsive cord of muscle at the side of his neck that made him groan deep in his throat each time she took a nip.
True to his word, he seemed to touch every inch of her body while his wicked mouth worked its magic on hers. He tugged her pajama pants down to claim her hip with the palm of his hand and pull the most feverish part of her body into the bulge thrusting behind his zipper. When he kissed his way down her neck, Katie thrust her fingers into the damp muss of his hair, releasing a spicy scent that filled her nose. She guided his mouth to the straining peak of her breast and whimpered at the bolt of heat that arced through her.
Every kiss was a temptation. Every touch a torment. “Trent,” she gasped. “Now. Please.”
He threw back the covers to shuck off his jeans and shorts and sheathe himself. The chill of the night had barely cooled her skin before Trent was back, tossing aside the flannel pants she’d kicked off and settling between her legs. “There’s no turning back from this,” he reminded her, stealing another kiss from her swollen lips.
Katie nodded and pulled at his hips, demanding he complete what he’d started. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life, Trent. This isn’t one of them.”
She lifted her knees and he slipped inside, slowly filling her with his length. His dark gray eyes locked on to hers as he began to move. She tried to hold his loving gaze, tried to memorize every second of this stolen time together, but soon the sensation was too much. She could only feel. He slipped his hand beneath her bottom and lifted her into his final thrust. Katie closed her eyes and surrendered to the heat bursting inside her. Seconds later, Trent gasped her name against her hair and followed her over the edge into the fiery inferno.
* * *
TRENT AWOKE TO the sound of a phone ringing and an empty bed.
He swung his feet to the floor, trying to orient himself to the long night and the early hour. He scratched his fingers through his hair, instantly remembering how Katie had played with it—and how her fingers had tightened against his scalp, holding his mouth to a sweet, round breast as she gasped for breath and squirmed with delight beneath him. Hell. Even remembering how she’d put her hands all over him with such hungry abandon was enough to make things stir down south this morning.
With a groan of resignation, he scooped up his shorts and jeans, fishing his ringing cell out of the back pocket and checking the number. Olivia Watson. She’d hold for a couple more rings, giving him time to go into the john to splash some cold water on his face and try to get his head on straight before taking a work call.
He’d known Katie had a rockin’ body. What fool male wouldn’t want to put his hands all over those decadent curves? But he hadn’t expected how responsive she’d be to every needy touch. How eager she’d be to explore him, as well. That was the free spirit he’d imagined her to be in his youth. That was the Katie who’d first captured his young heart.
And he sure as hell hadn’t expected this gut kick of pain when he realized their time together—a crazy mix of comfort, caring and passion—didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him. Hell. She must have left before dawn. The painkiller in his system had knocked him out eventually, and he’d slept longer than usual, oblivious to her efforts to escape and erase any evidence of their time spent together.
The phone was still ringing in his hand when he strolled back into the bedroom and sat on the black-and-gold comforter that had been draped neatly back on the bed—after he distinctly remembered it sliding off onto the floor last night. Katie hadn’t left so much as a dent in the pillow beside him this morning. She’d taken every stitch of clothing, even her damag
ed bag and the contents that had been scattered across his bathroom floor, leaving no trace of them behind.
Well, he’d gotten exactly what he’d asked for, hadn’t he? One night with Katie Lee in his bed. If only the two of them had been lousy together. If only the hushed conversation and cuddling in between hadn’t made him think that it had meant something life changing to her, too. Trent hadn’t felt that right inside his own skin for ten years. But expecting Katie to suddenly love him the way he loved her...?
The bedroom door burst open and a nine-year-old and the excited dog chasing him jumped onto the bed. “Aren’t you going to answer your phone?” Tyler asked, bouncing up and down on his knees. “It’s been ringing forever.”
“Tyler.” Katie followed a few steps after, hanging back in the doorway. She’d already dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and had pulled the sexy waves of her hair back into a tomboyish ponytail. “I told you not to wake Trent.”
“But, Mom, he was already awake.” Tyler threw himself on the bed, which bounced like a trampoline with his light weight. “Padre and I peeked.”
Katie shook her head at the bouncy boy and whining dog and frowned an apology at Trent. “I didn’t know if I needed to answer the phone for you.”
Was this entourage the reason she’d left him this morning? Letting Tyler see the two of them share a kiss was one thing, but explaining what it meant when Mommy and Trent slept in bed together was something else. Or was that just the excuse she was using for pretending as though last night had never happened?
“Nope. I got it.” He punched the button on the phone and put it to his ear. “Olivia. What’s up?”
“Sorry to wake you, Sleeping Beauty, but I’m at the ME’s office at the crime lab. My brother Niall just completed the autopsy on your private detective. We got an ID on John Smith.”
“Hold on a sec, Liv. Katie’s here with me. I’m going to put you on speakerphone.” Katie hustled Tyler out of the room with orders to finish his bowl of cereal and get dressed for school. Then she nodded and came back to stand beside Trent and listen in on the call. “Tell us about John Smith. Which one of those aliases was real?”
“None of them. None of those identities existed until about ten years ago. John Smith is the most recent incarnation. The man had a knack for reinventing himself.”
Normally, all the details were important. But he was only in the mood for straight answers this morning. “You said you had a match.”
“We do. His fingerprints are in the system.”
Katie pulled the phone down to her level and asked, “Then why didn’t this guy’s real identity pop when I ran the search on him?”
“Because Niall found the prints in the archives.” Katie tilted her confused frown up to meet his. The KCPD archives were the files where cases that had been solved were stored. Or where crimes that had passed their statute of limitations—meaning the police could no longer pursue them—had been filed away. “Does the name Francisco Dona ring a bell?”
Katie’s encyclopedic memory came up with the connection first. “Isabel Asher’s boyfriend? The guy Leland blamed for her death?” She shook her head. “There was a motorcycle accident. Francisco Dona is dead.”
“He is now.” Olivia’s sarcasm wasn’t entirely for humor’s sake. “The fingerprints don’t lie. This guy has been able to fly under the radar for ten years. Somehow, he got his prints in a DB file and a John Doe was cremated in his place. He was reborn as a new man several times over, most recently as John Smith, private eye.”
Trent tried to have some respect for a man who could change his identity as readily and completely as the WITSEC division of the US Marshals’ office could. But all he could see was a criminal who’d gotten far too close to Katie and Tyler. “So if he knew we were tracking Leland Asher and putting together a case against him, Francisco Dona—Mr. Smith—would have a personal stake in finding out what we know.”
Olivia agreed. “If Asher found out the man he blamed for his sister’s death was still alive, he’d make fixing that mistake his number-one priority once he got out of prison. He’d certainly want to make sure the man paid before the cancer got him.”
That dimpled frown had reappeared between Katie’s eyebrows. “I get why Francisco Dona would come after me. I’m the information guru—I’d be his best source for finding out where we are in the Asher investigation and what the team’s chances are of putting him back in prison for life.”
“But?” Trent prompted, wondering what wheels were turning in that clever mind of hers.
“But if he had access to my laptop, which he did when he or someone else planted the mirroring program, then why threaten me? Why warn me to stop? He should want every piece of information he could steal from me.”
“Are we dealing with two different cases here?” Trent suggested. “Smith might have been after Katie, but somebody else was after Smith.”
Olivia had her own idea. “Or maybe trailing Katie was Smith’s effort to try to escape from Asher’s retribution one more time, but he failed. Still, how did Smith get access to Katie’s computer in the first place?”
Katie spoke up this time. “I have a theory on that.” She glanced up at Trent, perhaps offering an explanation for her hasty retreat this morning. “A couple of weird things happened at the theater last night.”
“Besides finding a dead body and getting shot at?” What else had he missed besides Francis Sergel putting his hands on Katie?
“I did some research this morning. The bullet just dented my laptop—it still works.” When she gestured for him to follow, Trent went into the spare bedroom with her. He tried to ignore that all her things had been moved in here and focus on the restraining-order record she pulled up on the screen. “There have been sexual harassment complaints filed against Doug Price. I found a record of a college student who went to a judge after she discovered Doug hiding a camera in a women’s dressing room and taking pictures without her consent.”
Trent borrowed one of Max’s choice curses. “How does this guy get to work in community theater?”
“Because it’s a volunteer position with a volunteer board, and sometimes it’s hard to find people with the skills to organize and run a show who are willing to give up that much of their time.” Katie shrugged. “And probably because people don’t talk about it enough. I’ve found three different theater companies where Doug has volunteered in Missouri and Kansas.”
“And you think he planted the device to sabotage your computer?” Olivia asked.
“He could have been blackmailed into doing it. It fits our Strangers on a Train theory about someone manipulating others to commit crimes for them.” Trent was less than thrilled to hear about Katie’s encounter with Doug Price last night. “He was eager that I not touch or see whatever was in that envelope. I wonder if they were photographs, or copies of them. And the price to keep them from going to the police or going public was tampering with my computer.”
Olivia seemed to agree it was a strong possibility. “Do you think he killed John Smith? Or Francisco? Or whatever we’re calling him now?”
“I don’t think he’d have the guts to pull a trigger. But maybe he saw something and that’s why he was in such a hurry to leave—especially if Smith was his blackmailer.”
“You want me to bring Doug Price in for questioning?” Olivia offered.
“Yeah. Put Max to work, too.” Trent had a feeling that after months of hard work and dangerous setbacks, a lot of cold cases were about to break wide open. “I want to know if John Smith was tracking Katie for his own survival or if someone else hired him. If so, who? And why?”
Katie nodded. “And if last night was a hit ordered by Asher, how did he find out John Smith’s real identity?”
Trent headed back to his own room. “I want Leland Asher in my interrogation room. Today.”
&nb
sp; “I’ll clear it with the lieutenant and have Max pick him up.”
“Katie and I will stop by Smith’s office to see what we can find there before coming in.”
Trent hung up and went to work, unlocking his gun from the strongbox in his closet and sliding the weapon onto his belt. He started to pull on a thermal undershirt but realized the dressing on his wound needed changing. Unfortunately, it was a two-handed project. He pulled off the twisted tape and soiled gauze and dangled it at Katie’s door. “A little help?”
“Come on in.” She set down the blouse and sweater she’d been getting ready to change into and picked up her bag with the first-aid supplies. He sat on the edge of the double-size bed while she doctored him. “Jim’s coming by to take Tyler to school again and watch him until we pick him up. And then I’ll start pulling everything KCPD has on Francisco Dona and John Smith. I’ll get a brief together on Asher and his minions before you run your interviews this afternoon, so you know who all the players are.”
After the first piece of tape was secured on his shoulder, Trent caught Katie by the wrist. Even if she was going to pretend it hadn’t happened, he needed to say something about last night. “Damn, you smell good in the morning.” He watched the blush of heat creep into her cheeks as he lightly massaged the warm beat of her pulse. “You were amazing last night. But I missed you when I woke up. I gather you don’t want Tyler to know what happened.”
Katie twisted her wrist from his touch and cut another length of tape. “If he doesn’t know how close we got, maybe he won’t get his hopes up and think—”
“That you and I could be a real couple.”
She positioned the tape over the gauze and gently smoothed it into place. “Trent. Last night was like a fairy tale. Tyler had a dad and a dog, and you were completely wonderful to me.”
“But?” He was wary of where this explanation was going.
“Obviously, this isn’t over yet. Between a mob boss and a dead private detective, there are still so many things that could go wrong. You’ve already been hurt. Tyler was frightened out of his mind. And, let’s face it, I wigged out on you.” She picked up his thermal shirt and helped him slide his arm into the sleeve without disturbing the bandage. “I’ve never been part of the story where they all live happily ever after. I’m afraid a few moments like last night, that idyllic perfection, aren’t real.”