Hot Pursuit (Jupiter Point Book 5)

by Jennifer Bernard

  Merry crouched in front of it, curious as a cat scratching at a closed door. "Do you think we can call the front desk and ask about it?"

  "That might be pretty suspicious. 'Hey, I saw this locked safe in a hotel room where I'm taking a photo and just wondered if I can open it.'"

  "Hm. I guess that won't work." She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. He was getting to know that gesture. It meant she was concocting some crazy plan. "I'll bet you anything that he's keeping something in there. Maybe you could get a search warrant."

  He laughed. "Uh, no. There isn't even a hint of probable cause. I'd be laughed out of the courtroom."

  "What if we make up something?" Her eyes brightened. "You know, like I can say I smelled cocaine coming from the direction of the safe. That's probable cause, isn't it?"

  "Sure, probable cause to get you charged with falsifying evidence. You can't smell cocaine through a reinforced metal wall."

  She pondered for a moment. "Marijuana? That's really smelly. I used to smell it on my stepfather as soon as he walked into our apartment."

  He snorted and offered a hand to help her up.

  She brushed off the seat of her pants. "That weird noise you just made sounded an awful lot like a 'no comment'."

  He slung his arm over her shoulders and guided her out of the closet. "I'll give you points for creativity. Proper investigative procedure, not so much."

  "Such a rule-follower," she teased as they stepped back into the bedroom.

  "Except where it counts." He stopped and pulled her against him. "In bed."

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her firm curves against him. He hardened immediately, blood rushing straight to his cock. All the hot memories from the night before flooded back. The luscious taste of her on his tongue, the perky swell of her nipples under his fingers, the suppleness of her skin, the incredible electricity they generated together.

  "Maybe we could investigate this together," Merry said, cupping her hand over the bulge in his pants. "Maybe do a sit-down interview sometime."

  "No time like the present." He planted his hands under her ass and lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his hips. This was quickly becoming one of his favorite moves, because of how it kept them face to face, close together, laughing into each other's eyes. He walked her over to the armchair and sank into it. Now she was seated on his lap, her mound pressing into denim covering his swollen cock. "Now this is my kind of sit-down. What did you want to ask?"

  He ran his hands lightly up and down her sides. Her hair, with its soft, luscious frizz, glowed in the morning light filtering through the window.

  "Hmm…" Her eyes closed halfway, and a sensual smile curved her full lips. "I have a long list of questions. But I already know how you're going to answer. No comment, no comment, no comment. That's all I ever get from Deputy Knight."

  "Yeah, well, the deputy just hit a dead-end in this investigation. He clocked out." He tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. "So fire away."

  She drew back to look at him in surprise. "Seriously?"

  "Yes. We've got that condom-shopping trip coming up. We ought to know more about each other." Besides, he loved having her on his lap like this. He'd submit to an "interview" just to extend the pleasure of that.

  "Okay, since you're feeling talkative. Who was your first girlfriend?"

  "Mandy Blake, third grade," he said promptly. "She kissed me after I blocked a dodgeball about to knock her glasses off." He ran his tongue along the tendon of her neck, enjoying her shiver of response.

  "Always the hero, huh?"

  "I do what I can." He nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck.

  "First sex."

  "I was sixteen. A neighbor lady whose name I refuse to disclose. Older woman, at least thirty. I used to sneak over there at night."

  "You bad boy." She sighed and tilted her head back as he nibbled his way down her throat. "I see what you mean about breaking those rules."

  "I only had one rule back then. Have fun. I like to think I've grown up a little since then."

  She flexed her hips, tantalizing his erection with the hot mound of her sex. "I think you've grown up in all the right ways," she purred.

  This teasing vixen side of Merry might just about kill him. He spread his hands across her lower back, filling them with her curves.

  "How about most recent sex?" she asked in a slightly more serious tone.

  This was definitely getting into more sketchy territory. Could he get away with a "no—"

  "And don't you dare say 'no comment,'" she added.

  Figured. "A friend of mine and I have a thing. We get together now and then to blow off steam. It's not serious. Never has been." He didn't want to explain any more than that, because his relationship with Roxy was so different from this new, confusing, mind-blowing thing with Merry.

  "You have a fuck-buddy?" She drew back with a frown.

  He winced. If only he could have stuck with a "no comment."

  "I wouldn't use that term. She's a friend. We've known each other since high school, but neither of us wants a relationship."

  She twisted her mouth and squinted one eye, the picture of skepticism. "Uh-huh. You're a hot cop and a good guy. You sure she doesn't want a relationship?"

  "Very sure. Sometimes I don't see her for months. I don't know what she does. We don't breathe down each other's necks. If she wants to get together, she calls, and if I'm into it, she comes over. That's about the extent of it."

  "What would she think about this? Us? Whatever's going on here?"

  He massaged the suddenly tight muscles along her spine. "She wants me to be happy, same as I want for her."

  "So if she called you tonight, what would you say?"

  He stared at her, finally picking up on the vulnerability lurking behind her eyes. As sassy and verbally adept as Merry was, that confident bravado didn't tell the whole story. Then again, surfaces never did, or he'd be the stick-up-his-ass, law-and-order guy he appeared to be.

  "I'd say that I just got involved with someone who has me completely ass over elbows, and that I don't know what exactly is going on or where it's headed, but I can't think about anyone else as long as she's around."

  Merry's lips parted, the color rising in her cheeks, painting her beautiful bronze skin a rosier shade. He brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones, giving her time to process how serious he was.

  "That's a really nice thing to say."

  "You know me. I don't comment unless I have something accurate to report."

  A smile quirked up the corners of her mouth. "Indeed I do know you. And it only took three years of frustration."

  He let out a slow breath, relieved that they'd navigated that issue okay. "So what about you? Let's turn this around. Same questions back at you. First sex, last sex. Go."

  "I thought I was conducting this interview?"

  "Nope. It's my turn. I've got you in the interrogation room. Picture ugly fluorescent overheads and a very uncomfortable chair."

  She flexed her hips against his thighs with a sexy purr. "I'm not sure my imagination is that good."

  "Don't distract the interrogator," he said sternly, stilling her movements by planting his hands on her ass. "Now answer the question."

  "Fine. First time I had sex, I was in college. Late bloomer."

  "No one snapped you up in high school?"

  She shook her head with a wry expression. "I told you I went to a private school. The kids there thought I was ghetto, and the kids in my neighborhood thought I was a snob. I never felt totally right in either place."

  Her wistful look tugged at his heart. "Sounds tough."

  She shrugged. "Sometimes. I used to come home and cry to my mother because some kid made fun of my hair. She'd kind of cuff me upside the head and tell me whatever it was, flip it around. Pretend it was the best thing about me, that all those straight-haired kids wished they had hair like mine."

  He tangled his fingers in the rich profusion of curls.
"Wouldn't be surprised if they did."

  "It doesn't even matter." She shrugged impatiently. "Her point was, if it feels like a vulnerability, flip it into a strength. I was always on the outside, always observing. That helped make me a good journalist. Anyway," she blew a breath upwards, rolling her eyes. "That was a long-ass answer to a simple question. First time I had sex, I was a sophomore in college and the guy was a member of the baseball team who needed a little tutoring. He returned the favor." She gave him a naughty wink.

  "Tutoring, huh?" God help him, he was jealous of some guy back in college. "Was he black or white?"

  She started, maybe because of the starkness of his question. He didn't really think of Merry in those terms—black or white—but maybe she did. He had to find a way to talk about it honestly.

  "Neither. He was Dominican." She watched him warily.

  "My family is mostly Scottish. We have that clannish "laird" thing going on. Our family name Knight comes from a Norman knight who kept one of my ancestors as an indentured servant. Several generations back, my ancestors came here to get out from under his thumb. We're like weeds, we grow anywhere."

  She stared at him levelly. "Why are we talking about this?"

  "Because I want it out on the table. People think in terms of black and white, but most of the time, the closer you look at a person, the more individual details you see. And it's the specifics that count. That's what helps you solve a crime. Or write a good article. Or understand a human being."

  "I hope you're not saying there's no difference between someone growing up black and someone growing up white. 'Cuz I've seen both."

  "Of course not. I'm saying when I look at you, I see a complex person I want to know inside and out. I see someone who lights me up. Someone brilliant and beautiful. A little irritating, a lot sassy."

  "And mixed. Don't leave that out."

  "I don't want to leave anything out. I want to know it all."

  She tilted her forehead against his and closed her eyes. A long moment passed while she digested his words. He practically held his breath until she spoke again. "How is it you keep pulling these surprises out of your sleeve?"

  "Trying to keep you guessing." He twined a finger in her hair and tugged lightly. She purred deep in her chest. "And you still haven't answered the other question. Most recent sex."

  "Well, it's a little embarrassing. His name is Vibe. I met him in Los Angeles, while I was shopping."

  Another hot wave of jealousy hit him. "Vibe? Jesus, what kind of name is that? Vibe. Christ. What is he, some kind of hippie? Or some lamebrain hip-hop star?" He hated the guy and everything about him.

  She laughed at him. "Look at you, all jealous. I'll have to introduce you to him. You might like him. He's a real go-getter. Doesn't say much, but that's okay. Sometimes words aren't needed."

  He ground his teeth together. "I don't know anyone around here named Vibe. Does he stick to LA?"

  "No, he generally hangs out in Jupiter Point, in my apartment. Next to my bed, as a matter of fact. His full name is Vibe E. Rator, but you probably won't find him in the phone book."

  He stared at her for a stunned moment, then burst out laughing. "You're going to pay for that one. You got me good. So you're saying the last time you had sex was with a vibrator. And before that?"

  "It was four years ago," she said. "A professor at Columbia who dumped me right afterward. I felt like such a fool after that, I didn't want to take a chance with a real-live man. Vibe has been my one and only since then."

  He cupped his hands tenderly around her face, then tilted her chin up so their eyes met. Even though she was making light of her sex life, he didn't miss the significance of what she'd told him. "After four years, you're willing to take a chance on me?"

  "I already did." She held his gaze steadily. Then she echoed a message she'd sent to him after their first meeting at the observatory. "And I don't regret a thing."

  At the trust in her eyes, his heart clenched. Merry was taking a chance by putting her faith in him. Since the tragedy that had destroyed his family, he hadn't let any woman get that close. His brothers and his job got his devotion. Women got what was left.

  But with Merry looking at him like that, with belief and promise and adventure in her eyes, everything felt different.

  The sound of a key at the door made her fly off his lap. She would have tumbled onto the floor if he hadn't caught her arm.

  The door opened and a hotel maid took a step inside, pulling a cleaning cart behind her. She jumped at the sight of him. "This room's supposed to be empty."

  "Sorry, we were taking some photos of the creek," Will said smoothly. "We didn't mess anything up, promise."

  She nodded and pushed the cart aside to let them pass.

  Will waited until they were in the lobby of the lodge before he whispered in Merry's ear. "Did you see that?"

  "You mean the way she looked toward the closet right away, soon as she saw us? Of course I did."

  They exchanged a tight smile. It was a lead. A real lead. One they'd discovered together, in between exchanging sex stories.

  So maybe co-investigating with Merry wasn't the worst way to go.

  19

  Before they left the lodge, Merry did a quick interview with Nick, the rescued boy, and his family. She took some photos of Will and Nick, and of the creek, which was still higher than normal. The storm clouds had cleared away and sunshine struck sparkles in the sodden pine and birch trees surrounding the lodge. The fresh mountain air tasted like pure champagne; or maybe that was the buzz of Will's presence. Hard to tell.

  He drove her to her car and gave her a jump, then followed her back to Jupiter Point to make sure she had no trouble. Since he'd gotten paged to help with the aftermath of the storm, he left her at the newspaper. He called in a favor to get his favorite mechanic to pay a house call to her Corolla. Then he left, with a secret scorching look.

  He also muttered something about a convenience store.

  Merry stumbled through the rest of her day in a state of unbearable anticipation. She wrote up the article about Nick's rescue. She had to work hard not to let her feelings for Will show in the piece. Did he come off as too heroic, too amazing?

  Douglas still wanted to see all of her copy before it got printed, so she emailed him the draft. Right away, he pinged her to come to his office.

  If anyone could rain on her afterglow, it would be Douglas.

  But for the first time, he had nothing but praise to offer. "You're finally getting it, Merry. You made it big and dramatic. Lots of vivid detail. Nice work. Keep this up and I'll start believing the hype about you. Did you get some photos too?"

  "They're on my phone." She handed over her phone and he scanned through them.

  "Good stuff." He yelled out his office door. "Chase Merriweather! Someone get Chase in here." He turned back to Merry. "We can play this up on social media."

  Chase appeared in the doorway. "You need me?"

  "I want this photo to go viral." He swiped between two photos. "The kid and this one of the deputy. Facebook, Instagram, wherever."

  She'd taken the photos right after the rescue, before leaving the truck. The first showed Nick rushing into the arms of his parents. The other showed a completely drenched Will about to slump to the ground. Water streamed off his body and his clothes might as well not be there, they were so completely saturated. The light in the shot came from the headlights of someone's car, and managed to delineate every ridge of the muscles rippling in his abdomen. With his legs braced apart, thighs bunching, and his wide shoulders slumped with fatigue, he looked like some kind of weary warrior at the end of a battle in the rain.

  "This could go into a calendar. You know the kind, like the firefighters do," said Douglas.

  Chase scrutinized the photo. "Hey, isn't that Will Knight, from the flight tours? What were you doing out there with him?"

  She frowned at him, hoping he'd get the hint and not blurt out anything inappropriate. "I had ca
r trouble and Deputy Knight helped me out. We took shelter at the lodge to wait out the storm, and happened to see Nick stranded across the creek. Right place, right time."

  He gave her a wounded look. "You could have called me. I would have come and helped you."

  "That's nice of you, Chase the Intern." She focused on her phone. "I'll send you the photos so you can put them on Facebook or wherever."

  "There's something else," said Douglas. "Chase, go ahead and get the ball rolling. Merry, stay here."

  As soon as Chase was gone, the door safely shut behind him, Douglas sat on his desk and looked at her sternly.

  "Opioids. Talk to me. Got a rough draft yet?"

  She scrambled for a good answer. So far, she had plenty of smoke, but no smoking gun. She could speculate that Buckaroo was using the Rootin' Rooster as a central clearinghouse, with various drop-off points in local campgrounds. But she couldn't state that as fact. More importantly, couldn't break her promise to Will.

  "It's a big story, Douglas. And I mean big. It's going to take time to put it together right."

  He gave an impatient gesture. "Doesn't matter. We're dropping it."

  "What? You can't do that. This story is important. Not just big. It matters to people around here."

  "I got a call from the sheriff's department. They said you've been moonlighting at some sleazy bar to get the story."

  Merry gaped at him. No one at the department knew she was working on the story except Will. Had Will—he wouldn't. Would he?

  "You can visit some treatment centers, talk to families of addicts, write up a piece about the toll of opioids in small-town America. Etcetera, etcetera. But I'm asking you to stay away from the Rootin' Rooster and anything related to the investigation. And I can't believe the words 'Rootin' Rooster' just came out of my mouth."

  "Douglas." She stepped closer to the desk to make her point. "The story's not ready yet anyway. Why can't I keep working it? Why would the sheriff care about that?"