Deadly Bonds

by Anne Marie Becker

  “Does he fit the profile?”

  “He’s white, within the early-to-mid-thirties age bracket I’d identified, and had a trigger event. He was fired from Tech Innovations just before the first murder. When Buzz refused to lend him money a few weeks back, he apparently snapped again. He has a history of violence. Brady is the black sheep of the Redding family—always in trouble, sometimes in jail, and usually out of a job—and Buzz made it clear what he thought of his no-good nephew. The only part that doesn’t fit my profile is he’s a career criminal, not a successful career person.”

  “Guess I’m out of a job, then.” Becca grinned, not looking the least bit sorry. “I’m sure you two can manage here.” She snatched her bag from beside the couch and hugged Sara. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

  “Me too.” Becca left and Sara, looking uncharacteristically shy, avoided Holt’s gaze. “Looks like we both have things to celebrate tonight.”

  “Celebrate?”

  “One of my students is scheduled to take the SAT tomorrow, and it looks like he’ll do well. But that’s nothing compared to what you’ve accomplished. You deserve some kind of party for hauling in Toxin. Hell, you deserve the key to the city.”

  He slid her a doubtful look. “I didn’t do it with my own two hands.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short like that. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and if you hadn’t come up with a profile, the police might never have caught him.” The defensiveness in her voice—on his behalf, despite everything—pleased him. She looked away. “But I suppose you need to get going.”

  He took a step closer, putting her within arm’s reach. He remembered what she’d felt like in his arms just moments ago, and wouldn’t mind feeling that again. “How about a drink? You said we both had things to celebrate.”

  She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  After another moment of consideration, she nodded. “Okay. We’ll have a drink to toast our success.”

  His gaze moved over her face. “I’d like that.” He leaned forward suddenly, wanting to taste her.

  * * *

  Sara pulled away, her surprised gaze colliding with his. At some point, she’d put her hand against his chest. Did he want her—truly want her—or was he simply caught up in the thrill of success? Then again, she was tired of overthinking things. She curled her fingers into Holt’s jacket and pulled him close, then pressed her lips to his. His arms automatically went around her, holding her against him. Never removing her mouth from his, she slid the zipper down his chest and pushed her hands inside until she was stripping his jacket off.

  As kisses went, it was sweet, both literally and emotionally. But the tentative sampling didn’t satisfy the ache that had throbbed inside her for months. Seeking relief, she pressed her body closer, her breasts to his chest, her hips to his. His heat suffused her.

  His hands came up to either side of her face, cradling her. She opened her mouth to him, encouraging him to investigate further. His tongue swept inside and she nearly gasped with pleasure. He slanted his mouth over hers, moaning as he seemed to let go of something that held him back. The air became charged with a new kind of energy, sizzling along her skin.

  In a split second, his mouth turned from curious and tasting to hot and wanting. His hands slid into her hair, anchoring her in place as he explored. His chest pressed against hers, and her nipples ached beneath her shirt. As her skin came alive, her muscles went liquid. Feeling weak in the knees, she moved backward toward the couch. Holt came with her, not leaving any gaps between their bodies. The backs of her knees hit the couch and she sank down, pulling him with her, feeling his weight on top of her, anchoring her when she thought the fizzy feeling inside might make her float away.

  * * *

  Swamped by urges Holt never thought to feel again, he gave in to his baser needs. As he pressed into her, wishing their clothing could simply evaporate, the taste, the smell, the feel of Sara filled his senses.

  He pinned her arms above her head, and his mouth moved across her jawline and toyed with her sensitive ear. She interlaced her fingers with his—just like he’d held Elizabeth’s hand when she’d received the news that weeks of radiation hadn’t worked. The sudden memory was like a bucket of ice water thrown on his head.

  Holt pulled away and sucked in several breaths. At some point they’d moved onto the couch and he was stretched out on top of Sara. Hell, his erection was pressing into her thigh. One more minute and he would have yanked her pants down and buried himself inside her. How had he lost himself so completely?

  But the sight of her, flushed and rosy and panting beneath him, nipples peaked against the T-shirt stretched across her heaving chest, stirred a war of wills within him. Desire versus rationality. His needs nearly had him leaning in again to recapture the passionate moment.

  “Whoa.” Coming from Sara, the word was full of wonder.

  He propped himself on one elbow and pushed a hand through his hair, finding it had been thoroughly mussed by her fingers. He’d been so wrapped up in her that he hadn’t even noticed. The thought had his groin hardening even more, to the point of delicious pain. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sorry?” Her abdomen shifted under his as she redistributed his weight. She exhaled on a laugh. “Did I give you the impression it wasn’t okay with me?”

  “I should have asked. It’s too much too fast, for both of us.” And yet he was still on top of her. His body seemed unwilling to obey his brain’s commands.

  She pressed farther into the couch cushion, shifting to pull her body out from under his. Her body language indicated he’d said something to put a barrier between them. He moved so that he was safely seated on the other end of the couch. He subtly adjusted the still-hopeful erection straining for her.

  But she’d pushed him away, making the decision for them both. His gut twisted when he should have been relieved. He wanted her, but he didn’t want to want her. He felt he was betraying his wife, yet she was gone and had urged him to go on living. But with Sara? It was too complicated...wasn’t it? He hated this war of needs within him.

  “Well, I for one enjoyed kissing you.” Sara’s smile was back, but her eyes were tinged with hurt. “But if you need time, more than these past couple weeks, to think about it...”

  “I’m sorry, Sara.”

  Her laugh had an edge to it this time. “That’s the second time you’ve apologized in less than a minute. Just stop, okay. I’d rather not be a regret, thank you very much. I’m fine. We had a moment. It was fun. We survived. No harm, no foul.”

  Fun? Frustration burned in his gut. “It was one hell of a moment.”

  A furrow formed, wrinkling her smooth brow. “But you just said...”

  He rubbed his temples. “I’m horrible at this. I’m sor—”

  She held up a hand. “Do not say it again. Look, let’s agree that the kiss took both of us by—”

  “—surprise?”

  “—storm.”

  He released a strangled laugh. “Yes, that sounds about right.”

  “It’s okay. Really. If you still have feelings for Elizabeth, it’s understandable. But I thought...I mean, when you came all the way out here to give me the good news, and responded to my hug, I guess I thought you wanted something more. With me.”

  His response was immediate and strong. “Hell, Sara. It’s pretty obvious that I want you.” He lifted his hand to brush a strand of blond hair from her face. He dropped his hand before it could linger to sample the softness of her cheek. “I have the past, and one important thing in my present, that I have to consider.”

  “Theo.”

  “Yes. And I still think about Elizabeth sometimes, and what she’d think...” He shoved impatient fingers through his hair. “I don’t wan
t to carry any baggage into a new relationship.”

  “Everyone has baggage. We worked around it just fine a minute ago.” Her gaze went to his mouth.

  He stifled a groan and looked away, physically turning his body so it was no longer facing hers. He prided himself on logical conclusions drawn after logical arguments. Sara wasn’t logical. She wasn’t a rational choice. And yet he wanted her.

  She touched his hand. “I don’t care about your baggage, since I carry it too. But I do care about Theo. I would never do anything to hurt him. And I’ve already told you I care about you.”

  Holt looked away. “Half the time I don’t know who I am anymore. How the heck would I know what I want?” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I know I want you.”

  “But you don’t know for how long, or if it’s just some physical reaction. Or maybe it’s just been a really long time for you.”

  He winced. Was his body simply on hormone overdrive, led around by his dick to the first warm, willing woman it came into contact with? The thought was unwelcome, since he prided himself on being an intellectual. But he was a man too. One thing was certain. He didn’t want to make any false moves, any promises, before he figured out what he wanted...what was best.

  “You’re right. We should back off from this for a while.”

  Her expression turned stiff, as if she were holding in emotions she didn’t want him to see. “From what? It was one night of talking and a couple kisses. Don’t read too much into it. I haven’t.”

  “I just don’t know if I’m ready to be in a relationship.”

  “I’m not asking for that. You’re off the hook. Honest.” She looked at him sadly. “Go hunt your murderers and find justice for strangers. Maybe it’ll be enough.”

  He could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t believe that. Worse, he was starting to doubt it himself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jeremy’s bony elbow jabbed sharply into Theo’s stomach.

  Theo looked up. “Hey!”

  “Shh. Someone’s coming,” Jeremy whispered.

  In the time between the end of class and when they’d be picked up, they were hiding out in the janitor’s closet tucked under the staircase on the first floor of the Academy, with the door cracked only slightly for fresh air. But apparently they’d been discovered. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kindly old janitor who opened the door, but Miss Sara.

  The splintered wood along the doorframe caught at her blond hair as she ducked inside and held out her hand. “Fork it over, boys. You know the rules.”

  Theo gave the handheld gaming system to her. “Sorry.” It was an apology to both Jeremy and Miss Sara.

  She glanced at the screen. “Death Files Two. Huh. I didn’t know they had another one out. I haven’t even finished the first one.”

  “I’ve heard Scorpion’s Sting will be better.” Theo couldn’t wait.

  Jeremy nodded, his face becoming animated. “I’ve asked for that one for Christmas.” With his parents getting divorced, he was enjoying the spoils of their war for custody. A gaming system was one of those perks. He was sure to get whatever he wanted for the holidays—especially since he was having two separate Christmases.

  Miss Sara rolled her eyes. “It’s barely Halloween.”

  “But only fifty-seven days until Christmas.”

  She handed the system to Jeremy. “Put this in your backpack. It’s only for use at home or to and from school. It’s not allowed out of your backpack while on campus. You know the rules.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jeremy eagerly accepted the electronic gadget, along with the implied reprieve.

  Miss Sara’s look was stern, but her lips twitched, like she was trying hard not to smile. “The janitor’s closet is off-limits. Besides, you two have a science test on Wednesday, don’t you? If you’re waiting for your rides home, you should spend the time studying.”

  “We’re ready,” Theo said. This semester, he’d been working hard, and it was starting to pay off.

  They filed past her into the foyer. As Miss Sara closed the door and they moved back down the hallway, the front door of the school opened. Jeremy’s father entered and walked toward them in weird, jerky strides. The guy was a spaz, but not the entertaining kind. Something about him made the hairs on Theo’s arms stand up. Mr. White, the school’s computer science teacher, entered behind him, then closed the door against the chilly mid-October afternoon.

  “Thank you, Chad, for closing the door,” Miss Sara said to Mr. White. She looked right past Jeremy’s dad, who definitely wanted her attention. It was that adult way of pointing out what one person was doing wrong by emphasizing what another person was doing right. Using shame to teach right and wrong. Classic. But Mr. Rochard didn’t seem to learn his lesson. Probably because he had no sense of shame.

  “Hey, Dad,” Jeremy said, but his dad ignored him.

  “A word, Miss Burns.” Mr. Rochard barely opened his mouth as he spoke.

  Miss Sara had gone all rigid, like Grandma did when Theo forgot to put the milk back in the refrigerator or tracked dirt in the house. She touched Theo on the shoulder. “You guys go study for that science test. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned back to Jeremy’s dad and gestured toward her office. “If you’ll follow me...”

  “See you in a few, Dad?” Jeremy’s tone was hopeful.

  “Sure.” Mr. Rochard was already walking away, following Miss Sara into her office.

  Theo’s jaw hurt, and he realized he’d been grinding his teeth. “I know he’s your dad, but I don’t like the way he talks to people.”

  Beside him, Jeremy shrugged. “You get used to it.”

  “You heard her,” Mr. White said. Theo had forgotten the guy was standing there. “I hear that test is going to be tough.”

  “Yes, sir.” Theo tugged his backpack higher on his shoulder and moved toward the door. Someday, he would do what he wanted, when he wanted. Like protect Miss Sara, even if she told him to go away. If his dad were here, Theo would have made him step up. Maybe his dad could do something. Now that Toxin was behind bars, if Theo pointed out that Miss Sara needed him, maybe he’d drop everything and help. Theo ran outside, not stopping until he came to a grouping of trees that offered some privacy. Cell phones were allowed in school, but only for emergencies. This qualified.

  “Hey, wait up!” Jeremy caught up to Theo and gulped for breath. “Boy, you’re sure eager to study.” He settled on the grass and pulled a textbook out of his backpack while Theo brought out his phone and dialed.

  His dad answered on the first ring. “Hey, bud. What’s up? Did Grandma pick you up?”

  “Not yet.” He chewed his lip as he tried to decide how to ask for the favor.

  “Is something wrong?” Dad actually sounded worried.

  “It’s just...” He hadn’t wanted to bug his dad with stuff this past year. He had enough on his plate, and Grandma had told him to take it easy on him. So he’d avoided telling him most stuff. But this problem was bigger than Theo. “It’s Miss Sara.”

  There was a pause. “What about her?”

  Overhearing the conversation, Jeremy shot him a questioning look, but Theo pressed on. “I think she could use your help.”

  “Is something wrong? Is she hurt?” Dad’s tone had turned even more worried.

  “No, it’s just...” Theo stopped as Jeremy shook his head once. He should have taken the phone somewhere else before making the call. Apparently, Jeremy cared about his dad even if the man was a bully.

  On the other end of the phone, Theo’s dad sighed. “Miss Sara is a grown woman. I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

  Theo remembered the look on Mr. Rochard’s face and wasn’t so sure. “I know, but sometimes people need help. You said that sometimes we can’t take on everything by ourselves.”
>
  “Theo, she knows she can ask for help if she needs it. Unless she’s hurt...”

  His chest felt tight, like it had at Mom’s funeral. He felt a burning in his throat. “No,” he choked out. Not yet, anyway. Maybe he was blowing things out of proportion.

  “Look, bud, if you’re truly worried, I can check in with her. Or maybe Grandma can talk to her when she gets there?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Theo—”

  “I’ll handle it. I’ll watch out for her.” He hung up, trying to swallow past a tight lump.

  “My dad won’t hurt her or anything.” Jeremy picked at a blade of grass that had turned to a brown, dry crisp in the cool autumn weather. “He likes to get his way, that’s all.”

  * * *

  Sara just wanted the man out of her office. John had balls of steel if he thought he could control her and the rest of the world.

  “He’ll never get into Harvard with these scores.” John waved a paper with Neil’s SAT results in front of her face. She would have backed up if she weren’t already pressed against her desk. Max and Holt’s presentation on bullies and attackers came to mind. She wouldn’t give John the upper hand. Besides, Neil’s SAT scores weren’t that bad.

  “He’ll get into a respectable school,” she said, appealing to his rational side. “Not Harvard, likely, but that’s not where he wants to go, anyway.”

  John scowled. “He’s seventeen. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

  “Have you ever taken the trouble to ask him?”

  “I’m his father. I know best.”

  “You don’t know anything because you don’t want to know the truth.” The air between them froze as John’s icy glare slid over her.

  “Your time here is done. You had your chance. Several, in fact.” He spun on his heel and tossed the wadded-up score sheet into the trashcan on his way out of her office.

  It took Sara several minutes before she could breathe beyond the tightness in her chest. Her fingers ached from gripping them into fists. The phone on her desk began to ring. Had John already succeeded in bending the ear of a board member? Was she about to be fired?