by Lakes, Lynde
Paula’s face flushed. She studied him a moment. Then, she twisted in his arms and stared at the charred remains of her aviaries. He gave her waist a little squeeze.
She looked up at him with wide, sad eyes. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to the freed birds. They don’t know the world outside. And how much damage did the smoke do to the others?”
“Breezes sent most of the smoke toward the field. The birds should be all right.”
Bard’s throat tightened. Some of the birds were lost for good. Tomorrow Paula would be grateful for what was left, most of her aviaries and about fifty birds. Pointing the avantages out tonight would seem as though he didn’t understand what the lost birds meant to her, and that wasn’t true.
He gently guided her away from the devastation and into the house. They were both soaked, and their faces and clothes blackened from smoke. “We’d better get out of these clothes here in the entry,” he said, “or we’ll get soot all over the house.”
“I don’t care about that.” Her voice cracked. “Bard, who’s doing this? And why?”
He drew her close and held her there, wishing he could absorb her pain. Paula rested her head against his chest. He gritted his teeth at the onslaught of desire.
“Why can’t they just come get me and leave my birds alone?” she asked softly.
“If they got you, who would take care of your birds?” He couldn’t control the low rumble in his voice.
She looked up and met his gaze. “You were right all along, Bard. I have to get what’s left of my birds out of this purgatory.”
He kissed the center of the black smear that slashed across Paula’s nose. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight,” he murmured.
“No argument,” she said, her tone grateful.
Bard massaged the tight knots in Paula’s shoulders. She needed something to relax her, something to help put tonight behind her. “What you need is a hot shower.”
“I know.” She went a little limp against him as if a profound weariness had settled over her. “But I’m too sapped to even make it that far.”
He grinned. “At your service.” He swept her into his arms and carried her toward the bathroom.
Paula tucked her head into the hollow of Bard’s neck, as if basking in the protective strength of his arms. “Why didn’t I realize sooner that you’re always around when I need you?” She tightened her hold around his neck. He stopped walking for a moment and glanced down at her. She laughed. “You have that certain something, Bard Nichols, blackened face and all.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, driving him crazy. He brushed her lips with his. She drew his head down again. “More,” she begged.
Bard brought his mouth down on hers and lingered. He’d meant to keep it light. But feeling her warm sweetness beneath his lips set off a new fire in him more raging then the one he’d just fought, and hotter than the one he’d been fighting since before they’d spent a frustrating night a couple of feet from each other.
****
Paula drew him closer, needing him. His kisses were transforming her blood into liquid fire. Abruptly, Bard ended the kiss and continued walking down the hallway, turning sideways to pass through the bedroom and bathroom doorways.
Her feet touched the floor as he gently placed her in front of the shower stall. He reached into the glass enclosure and turned on the water. Then he just stood there staring at her, as if he was trying to make up his mind whether to go or stay. Steam misted around them.
When Bard turned to leave, she grabbed his arm. “Don’t go,” she said softly.
“I’ll be right outside the door.”
She’d never been one to throw herself at a man, but she couldn’t bear to be by herself. Losing her birds had left another empty spot. Sooner or later, everyone and everything she’d ever loved was taken from her.
The scent of Bard’s heat swirled in the mist whirling about them. She took a deep breath, drinking in the smell of his maleness, and faced the truth. She wanted him. Basic, earthy need. She dug her fingers into the hard flesh of his arm. Her face flamed hotly. “I want you to come into the shower with me.”
“Are you sure?” His voice was husky. He lingeringly traced the line of her jaw, slick and warm with moisture.
She stared directly into his eyes. After those kisses, did he need to ask? Besides, he was the one who had figured out about Charlie. And the one who had risked his own job to help her get a line on the killer; the one who had saved the majority of her birds; the one who had rescued her from getting a concussion or worse from the falling branch. And the one setting her blood on fire. “Very sure,” she whispered.
She clasped his face in her hands, drawing his lips down to hers. She unleashed all her repressed yearning, flicking her tongue into his mouth, probing with it, igniting a need in him that matched her own.
He paused kissing her long enough to say in a voice as soft as a caress. “No matter what happens, always remember, I love you.”
“Me, too,” she whispered. Awe washed over her. She really loved him. Why had it taken her so long to accept it?
Her passion raged beyond anything she believed possible as he rained kisses over her face, down the arch of her neck, returning to her face, her eyelids, both corners of her mouth, finally capturing her lips beneath his again.
Paula gasped for air and willed her wobbly knees not to give way. The depth of her desire amazed her.
“You’re everything sweet and good,” he murmured.
He unfastened her blouse, one button at a time, while his gaze pierced her soul.
Lingeringly, he slipped the fabric from her shoulders and arms, trailing his fingers over her skin, causing goose bumps. A wisp of air stirred at her ankles as her cotton top fluttered to the floor.
She undid his belt.
He looked at her with the brightest sea green eyes she’d ever seen, eyes, undeniably full of love. “Any idea what you’re doing to me?”
She nodded, suddenly a little shy.
He unfastened her bra and slipped off the straps. “Lovely.” His fingertips traced patterns over her breasts, sending tiny tremors coursing through her.
She yanked impatiently at his shirt then smoothed her fingers over his muscled flesh, tangling them in his fine, curly chest-hair.
Bard removed a dog-eared blue packet from his wallet and put it in the shower caddie next to the soap. “Don’t ever be sorry about this,” he said in a low, throaty voice.
“Not for a minute,” she whispered, a little breathless.
Then they frantically shed their remaining clothing, tossing fabric wildly until they stood naked. Bard kicked the soaked clothing aside. “You’re beautiful,” he said, with awe in his voice. “Exactly as I knew you’d be.” He didn’t close the distance between them, as though savoring the sight. “I love the way the shadows emphasize your curves.”
“Your skin looks smooth as the finest alabaster.” His touch was gentle, adoring. “But it’s soft, very soft.”
Paula smiled, slowly taking in everything about Bard, from the top of his dark hair to his well-formed thighs. If she could design her own perfect man, he’d definitely be the hard-body model she’d choose. He was, trim, long-muscled, and impressive. Nothing about Bard looked soft, except the expression in his eyes.
That’s what got to her; the love she saw there. She clasped his hand and drew him with her into the shower. Steam swirled around them, wrapping their glistening bodies in enchanting vapors. Bard’s lips claimed hers, his hands bringing her closer. She moaned as his hand skimmed down her side and explored her wet body, while hot water rained down on them. He pinned her between the shower wall and his own body. Paula wound her arms around his neck and arched into him, seeking all the contact he wanted to give. He cupped the swell of her breasts and his tongue delighted her nipples with sweet torment. She gasped at the feel of his strong arousal, pressing urgently against her belly.
She closed her hand over his shaft, massaging him, d
iscovering him. His grateful moans heightened her excitement. But it wasn’t just the passion raging between them that eased her heartaches. It was love. She’d found a man she could love completely—trust completely.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Paula’s shoveling dirt over Charlie tomorrow,” Janus said, “and I think we should attend the funeral to pay our respects.”
Lopez laughed. “You mean to watch and gloat?”
“Whatever. But we should go separately.”
Lopez cleared off half of the table, littered with empty food cartons and overflowing ashtrays, to make room for the tape recorder. He pressed the rewind button. “Crime scene muchachos found nada to pin Charlie’s murder on you, no?”
Janus snickered, feeling invincible. “They don’t even know I exist. Now, to our business.”
He opened a window, wiped off one of the four kitchen chairs and sat down. He rested his arm on the table and clasped his hand over his nose in an attempt to filter the foul smells that grew worse by the minute. The apartment Lopez shared with the other bikers smelled worse than a garbage dump, rotted food, backed up plumbing, stale cigarette odors and the faint residual of marijuana.
He studied the wiry, dark-skinned Mexican. How could Lopez live in such a pigsty? The man himself was immaculate. His jeans had a blade-sharp crease and his red T-shirt was unwrinkled and spotless. His thick black hair was neatly combed. With the red bandanna around his forehead and the diamond stud in his left ear, he looked like many of the young Latinos attending San Bernardino Valley College, but Lopez had only gone as far as the seventh grade and showed no interest in going further. He was into easy money and fast living. Janus soon learned that Lopez could be useful to him. Like himself, the gang-banger had no conscience and would do anything for money. Anything. His specialty, giving pain.
“Let’s hear what you have for me,” Janus growled.
“The tape may give you a few laughs, but it’ll be a waste of your time.”
“I’ll decide that. Play it!”
Lopez shrugged and started the tape. “Iv!” Paula screamed.
Janus smirked at the terror in her voice. It would serve her right if someone exterminated her blasted parrot.
Bard was speaking, his voice ragged with tension. “Wait. We’re not alone.”
“Oh. It’s you, Mr. Nichols.”
“That’s the security guard speaking,” Lopez said. He stuck a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. His fingers were steady as he lit it. He took a long draw and blew a lopsided smoke ring, then watched it with childlike amusement.
Janus shook his head. “Fast forward to where Paula and Bard are alone.”
Lopez clicked the button, and the tape recorder whirred ahead. “It’s just the two of them about here,” he said, punching the play button again.
“It seems to me,” Bard said, “that those guys messed things up just to throw us off.”
Janus raised a brow at the suspicion in Bard’s voice. “He knows?”
“Only that something’s up,” Lopez said, self-satisfaction in his tone. “By the time he figures out we trashed the place to cover up our real objective, it’ll be too late.”
As Paula spoke softly about the journal, Janus strained to catch her words.
Lopez laughed, flashing a gold tooth. “I knew she had it.”
“Shut up!” Janus chopped the air sideways with the edge of his hand. “Can’t hear with you mouthing off.”
Janus leaned closer to the recorder. Maybe he was worried about nothing. He laughed out loud when Paula told Bard off.
“One tough señora, no?” Lopez said.
Janus nodded. That’s what made her dangerous. Not only to his set up, but to him personally. He licked his lips thinking of her beguiling toughness. Janus watched the little wheels of the tape spin dizzily, wondering what it would be like to have her.
“It’s all set,” Bard told Paula. “You’re leaving the day after tomorrow. Coleman’s packers’ll be here in the morning to box up your stuff.”
Janus slammed his fist down on the kitchen table. Lopez flinched. “Moving?” Janus growled. “Why didn’t you say she was moving?” Although it was about time, he shouldn’t be the last to learn what was going on in his project.
“Just learned about it,” Lopez said, stubbing out his cigarette in an already overflowing ashtray.
“What about Coleman’s crew?” Janus asked, his mind once again on the journal. “Know any of the packers?”
Lopez shrugged. “After work some of ‘em hang out at Jerry’s pool hall.”
“See who’s new,” Janus said, “and who has money problems. If you find a guy with a police record, so much the better.”
Lopez’s face brightened. “You want him to forget to pack the journal, no?”
Janus nodded. “Give ‘em cash. A couple of hundred should do it.”
“The journal better be worth all this bother,” Lopez said.
“Want to take the chance that my name isn’t in it?” Janus deepened his voice to a snarl. “Or yours? It could have our whole set up laid out.”
Sweat broke out on Lopez’s upper lip. He wiped it away with the back of his wrist. “What if the guy can’t find the journal?”
“Then it’ll be up to you. You’ll have to tear Paula’s new place apart. Get the address from the mover.” Janus frowned at the sound of squawking birds coming over the tape. It sounded like hundreds. “What’s wrong with those damn birds?”
Lopez gave a sly grin. “I set their coops on fire.”
Janus jumped up, and glared down at Lopez. “Who the hell told you to do that?”
Lopez’s dark eyes widened. “Had to get Bard and Paula out of the house to plant two more bugging devices. The guard stopped us before we’d finished.”
Heat crawled up Janus’s neck. He didn’t like his men going outside the plan. “Dammit, you set the fire just to get back at Paula.”
Lopez shrugged as if it were no big deal. But his left eye twitched. “So, I killed two birds with one stone.”
“You risked everything for—”
Janus was jolted silent by Bard’s husky voice coming over the tape. “Better get out of those clothes,” he said.
Janus sank to the chair and held up his hand in a stop gesture. This he wanted to hear.
Paula and Bard discussed the fire then Bard murmured, “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.” His words were barely audible, something about a hot shower.
Janus rubbed the pulse throbbing at his temple.
“Maybe we misjudged Nichols, no?” Lopez asked. “Seems he’s not just a pencil-pushing workaholic like you said. This is where he makes his move.”
Janus’s shoulder muscles tightened. “Get more volume on that!”
“It’s as high as it’ll go.” Lopez laughed. “Don’t you get it? They aren’t talking right now.”
Janus darted a warning glance at Lopez. His hand shot up again when Paula started speaking. “Don’t go,” she said softly. “Please, Bard, I don’t want to be alone.”
The skin at the base of Janus’ neck burned while the heat of a controlled fury crept up his jaw. He couldn’t bear the idea of Bard touching Paula.
“The lady’s hot to salsa,” Lopez said. “It’s just sweaty bodies and heavy breathing for the rest of the tape.”
“Leave it on!” Janus ordered. “I want to hear all of it.”
Bard was murmuring now, low and hoarse. “No matter what happens, I….”
Janus strained to hear. “What did he say?” All Janus heard was the thunder of pounding water.
Lopez snickered. “Have to use your imagination from here on.”
Janus kept his stony mask in place in spite of the knot in his gut, a knot his silent rage suddenly yanked tighter. “I want that journal!” he bellowed, to hide what was really bothering him. He pounded the table. “No excuses.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A sunshine person like Charlie would be pleased to be buried gravesi
de on such a perfect day, Paula told herself. The blue, sunny sky was cloudless. The strong fragrance of flowers scented the air, predominantly roses. She bit her lip and fought the moisture pushing at the back of her eyes. No tears! That was how Charlie would want it. He’d always told her, smile to the world and cry in private. She lifted her chin, and clutched her handkerchief into a lacy ball, willing away the sadness that pushed upward into her chest and buried itself deep in her heart.
They’d become a family when they made their commitment to look out for one another. Their devotion was as solid as any blood relatives. The lump in Paula’s throat swelled painfully. Her lips trembled. I’ll miss you, big brother.
Next to Paula, Bard stood erect and solemn in a dark suit and tie. She studied his profile. His head moved almost imperceptibly, scanning the mourners. A wave of dark brown hair had fallen to his forehead, softening his features. Still, there was nothing soft about the man. He was her rock.
Charlie had been strong and protective, too. Still, he was dead.
Fighting the weakness in her knees, she squeezed Bard’s arm. “I’m glad you’re not in dangerous work like Charlie was,” she whispered. Bard didn’t answer. He loosened his collar and gave her a twisted smile that looked more like a grimace.
Perhaps funerals made Bard uncomfortable and made him think about dying. She felt the warmth of his body pressing against her side, his heat seeping into her being, setting off an electrical hum just under her skin. For an instant, she considered her own mortality. Never had she wanted to live as fiercely as at this minute.
Tightening her grip on his arm, she scanned the odd mixture of mourners: friends, neighbors, police, corps, and county people. And, to her dismay, bikers.
On the opposite side of Charlie’s closed casket stood eleven tattooed bikers who glared at her like taunting demons. Behind them, their Harleys were parked contemptuously on the grass. The unshaven bikers wore leather vests, boots, and black headbands.
Paula recognized a couple of them as Deeter’s former roommates. Charlie had worked on their Harley’s. He must have learned that those guys were part of the looting gang and used his mechanical skill as a means to infiltrate their gang. Did they find out he was an undercover agent then killed him for it?