“You work too hard.” Her fingertips traced the dark circles under his eyes. He sucked in a breath at the contact.
“Until I catch Toxin, I won’t sleep well anyway.” And when he did sleep, the image of exploring Sara’s lush body had him tossing and turning.
She put on what he’d come to know as her let’s-do-this face. “So you’ll drive me to the Academy early in the morning?” Classes would start again tomorrow, but not for long. The students had a full week off for Thanksgiving.
Was she so eager to leave him? He should be relieved. He wouldn’t have to worry about examining his soul any longer without her there to tempt him. But instead of relief, he was thinking of how empty the house would seem without her laughter.
A frown tugged at his mouth, but Holt fought it. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you back in time. We can pick up Theo at my parents’ on the way.” Becca was camping out at his parents’ house overnight to help watch out for Theo’s safety. By tomorrow morning, he hoped he’d be heading to the jail cell that held Toxin to demand some much-needed answers, including what the guy thought he knew about Damian’s daughter’s disappearance.
* * *
The lace bra and panties Sara had packed for this occasion itched against her skin as she mingled during cocktail hour at the banquet. But the discomfort was worth it. The fancy undergarments, like the hair comb, gave her confidence and a much-needed boost of courage. Or maybe some part of her subconscious had wanted to feel sexy around Holt. She didn’t want to feel like second best anymore.
Executing a subtle wriggle, she was able to ease the friction. The elderly gentleman speaking to her barely noticed. He was too engrossed in his story. But beside her, Holt’s hand went to her elbow as if to steady her. Her skin heated at the contact, building to a simmer when he left his hand there.
“That must have been an intense situation,” Sara said when the vet with a chestful of ribbons paused. “Behind enemy lines with no way of communicating with your base.” She shuddered. “I can’t even imagine.”
“No, I don’t suppose you can.” The colonel glanced around at the other people gathered in the large banquet hall. “Most of these people can’t imagine, but there are a few here who know that kind of fear.”
“I, for one, am glad you fought on our side. Thank you.” Her compliment made the pale gentleman’s cheeks flame red against his white whiskers.
“If I were twenty years younger...”
She laughed, charmed by his flirtation. “I wouldn’t have a chance.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he assured her with a wink. He looked at Holt. “And I would have given you a run for your money.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Holt said. Though he smiled, it was guarded. They’d been like oil and water lately, mixing but never quite merging. His cool gaze assessed her in a quiet but intense way that shot straight to her core. He could slip past her defenses so easily.
* * *
Holt trailed Sara and observed in bemusement. She seemed determined to personally speak to each person in attendance, probably trying to ferret out the killer from among those attending. He admired her defiant attitude. The simple elegance of her dress indicated a practical woman, but the flash of diamonds in her hair reflected an impulsiveness, a fiery sensuality, that would have grabbed his attention even if he weren’t watching her carefully for other reasons. Her ripe-berry lips were quick to smile or part on a laugh. She was so...vibrant.
He wanted to unlock all her secrets. What would it be like to indulge himself, to let himself travel down the road he’d wanted to weeks ago, days ago, hours ago...hell, almost every moment of the past couple months? Instead, he’d chosen safety and run back to familiar territory. He’d claimed he needed to consider Theo’s feelings, but his son was obviously in love with Sara. Holt was reluctant to dig into his own feelings and discover why he still avoided taking Sara into his bed. All his reasons for avoiding her had been obliterated this weekend. He could no longer deny that either the old Sara was gone or he’d never really known her.
“See anyone who fits the bill?” Damian asked, his voice loud and clear through Holt’s earpiece. Holt almost jumped at the intrusion. Damian had planted himself in a car parked across the street from the venue. He was observing the people come and go, as was Noah from his post near the main doors.
Holt’s gaze traveled the room and he gave a subtle shake of his head, knowing Damian and Einstein could see him via the camera Einstein had set up. The crowd all seemed to be interacting as normal people would—and nobody had psychotic killer tattooed on his or her forehead. Toxin was a highly intelligent and patient man. He’d bide his time and calculate the perfect time to strike.
“Why would he mention this banquet, specifically? He’s got to have a target here.” Damian was hypothesizing out loud, and not about anything they hadn’t already discussed, so Holt didn’t speak.
Max’s voice came through the party line. “In a room this crowded, the guy could get close to anyone without looking out of place.” Holt spied Max across the room, his gaze sweeping the crowd.
As Sara continued to charm the people who came up to them, Holt watched for anything suspicious. His gut told him something wasn’t right. Think, damn it. What would Toxin do? Who would he target? Why would he want them at this banquet? Toxin had to know Sara would be protected at all times.
“Are you okay?” Sara asked him when they had a moment alone.
“Just thinking about Toxin, and whether he has something planned for us. For maximum impact, if he was going to do something dramatic, he would want his target to have some kind of meaning for you. Who in this room would that be?”
“You.” She said it in all seriousness, her eyes wide with concern. His heart rate continued to escalate and he wanted to capture her lips under his own and never let them go.
“No. He wants me to be an actor in this for a while longer.” Toxin had bonded with Holt on some abhorrent level. “It has to be someone he’d want to get rid of. Someone whose death would make Toxin a hero in our eyes.” His gaze landed again on the man who’d made no secret of his disdain for Sara. “John Rochard.”
* * *
He felt Sara go rigid beside him before she spoke. “Oh, no.” Her words were expelled on a rush of breath. “He’s here?”
He hadn’t been on the guest list, but, sure enough, John Rochard stood beside his father. Though Senator Patrick Rochard had been expected to attend, it hadn’t raised any red flags. The senator was a veteran running for re-election in a couple days.
Holt gripped Sara’s elbow. “Prepare yourself. Looks like he’s making his way to this side of the room.” It wouldn’t be long before John Rochard spied her and Holt together. A second later, Rochard’s gaze swept the room, then landed on Sara. As he took note of Holt’s possessive hold on her, his eyes lit up as if he’d found a hidden treasure.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Rochard told Holt as he sauntered over to them. He looked Sara up and down. “Or you. Guess they’ll let anyone in these days.” His chuckle was caustic.
“I thought we warned you to keep a low profile,” Holt said. They’d let him know that a killer had mentioned his name, and in an unflattering light. Toxin had basically threatened the man’s life, yet here he was parading around like a peacock.
“He’d be an idiot to attack me here. Not his style, anyway, is it?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he can’t change his habit.” If he wanted to do away with Rochard badly enough, he’d find a way.
Sara licked her lips and searched the faces of the people passing by. Holt felt the tension radiating off her. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “It’s okay. Rochard’s right. This guy tends to strike when there isn’t a crowd around.”
She nodded, then forced a smile for Rochard. “I hope you’re being careful.”
/> Rochard snorted. “As if you cared. That board review is coming up soon. Friday, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Her spine was so rigid, it was a wonder she didn’t snap.
A waiter reached Rochard’s side, delivering a tumbler of scotch. “Ah, there it is. Thank you.” The waiter hovered a moment, probably hoping for a tip, then hustled off when it was apparent he wouldn’t be receiving one. Rochard took a large swallow and held the glass up to the light. “Manna from heaven.”
Holt felt a prickling of unease. Why? Why would Toxin insist he and Sara attend this thing if he wasn’t going to show up? And Rochard was right...the killer preferred a one-on-one scenario to killing in a crowd. Perhaps he was lulling them into a false sense of security, waiting to strike when they were alone. But they’d never be alone. SSAM security and the CPD were keeping a watchful eye. Holt turned to scan the crowd again.
“John?” The worry in Sara’s voice brought his attention back to her. “John!” The other man dropped his glass. Its contents splashed onto their shoes, but their focus was on Rochard, who was grasping at his throat. His skin had taken on a bluish hue. Sara reached for Rochard, but the man was stumbling away.
“Get back, Sara!” Holt shouted, but it barely broke through the din of the guests who were starting to notice the commotion.
Rochard had dropped to the floor, still clutching at his throat. He began to writhe in pain. In Holt’s peripheral vision, Max pushed his way through the crowd to get to them. From the far end of the room, Noah was trying to make his way to them as well.
Sara ignored Holt’s command and dropped to her knees at Rochard’s side. Holt bent down beside her and pushed her hands aside. “Don’t touch him.”
“We can’t just watch him die.” Her eyes were wide with shock and panic.
Holt loosened Rochard’s tie and shirt, but it wouldn’t matter.
“The drink,” Holt explained as Max and Noah joined them. “It must have been poisoned. Get that waiter!” He knew Damian, listening from his post in the parking lot, would have heard the commotion and would be sending paramedics in. Noah was also calling for reinforcements.
“I’ll go,” Max told Holt as he took off. “Stay with Sara.”
Noah pushed toward the doorways to prevent people from leaving before they could be questioned and cleared.
“Medical personnel are on their way,” Damian said over the mic. They’d been on standby in the parking lot. Moments later, Damian escorted the hustling paramedics to their side. Rochard was turning a dangerous shade of gray, his mouth opening and closing like a carp’s.
Holt shifted to make room. “Use protection. I believe he’s ingested poison.”
Sara’s hand reached out and took his as they watched them work on Rochard. “Was that waiter Toxin?”
“I don’t think so.” Holt squeezed some warmth into her fingers. She was in shock. To hell with who was watching, he wanted her in his arms. He pulled her close and wrapped her up tight against him, turning her face away from Rochard. The paramedics were doing their best, but it was too late.
“Why not?” Her words were muffled against his suit.
“Too young. I think Toxin was pulling more strings, getting someone to do his dirty work this time.”
“Is my boy going to be okay?” Senator Rochard asked the medics. “Please...please help him. Do something!”
At the senator’s anguished cry, Sara’s nails curled into Holt’s back. The paramedics moved quickly, trying to revive John, but it wouldn’t be any use. Toxin moved swiftly and surely. He’d taken another life. And why? To impress Sara? She was certain to blame herself once the shock wore off and she was thinking again. Apparently, the senator was a couple steps ahead of him.
“This is your fault.” The senator pointed a finger at Sara. She pulled away from Holt and faced the man. His body shook as he glared at her. “John told me about you, about how you’re determined to destroy my grandson’s future before he even has a chance at one.”
Sara paled.
Holt angled himself so he was in front of her. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me. I’m the reason she’s here.”
“No, Toxin is,” Damian said.
“Toxin?” The senator shook his head. “The serial killer? But the news says he uses a needle.”
“Apparently he’s widening his repertoire.” Holt jerked his head toward Damian. “We’ve got all of SSAM’s resources at our disposal, and this is our specialty.”
“We’re going to catch him,” Damian assured the senator.
The senator’s eyes narrowed on Damian. “If you catch the bastard that did this, I will donate a million dollars to your agency.” As he leaned in closer, his face was mottled and his voice quivered with rage and grief, but his eyes were calm and hard. “And if you kill him, I’ll give you two.”
“We’ll get him.” Damian motioned to another set of paramedics who’d just entered the room. “Can you check out the senator, please? He’s had an awful shock.” Damian’s phone rang, and he moved away to accept the call.
Others took over Senator Rochard’s care, and Holt pulled Sara away from the scene, finally breaking her gaze from John Rochard’s inert body. Her arm trembled beneath his hand and she was biting her lip so hard Holt was afraid it might bleed.
“Take her home,” Damian urged as he rejoined them a moment later.
“What about the investigation?”
“That was Max on the phone. He found the waiter, but it was too late. He was left in an alley not too far from here with an empty syringe by his side.”
Chapter Seventeen
Holt gladly accepted Damian’s directive to take Sara home and keep her safe. Max and Noah would handle things at the banquet hall. Sara, on the other hand, needed to get out of there. And he needed to be home with Sara, even if it was only to watch her pack her bag in preparation to return to the Academy in the morning. He refused to think about how she wouldn’t be under his roof, under his protection, any longer. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her body and check her for damage. He wanted to keep her from biting her lips to the point of drawing blood by kissing her senseless.
And, really, what was stopping him? None of the excuses he’d used before seemed important. There was evidence of her love wherever he turned—she looked after Theo’s needs, wanted to protect Rochard tonight despite all he’d done to her, and went straight to Holt’s kitchen when they returned home and poured two glasses of water, handing him one before taking any for herself. Despite their rough beginning, somewhere along the way he’d come to know her selfless, warm-hearted side. Or maybe she’d always been that way and he’d tried not to notice, especially after Elizabeth had become pregnant and his future had become clear. Sara had told him she backed away from him and her friendship with Elizabeth to keep her attraction to him from hurting them. Had she sacrificed her own needs and desires for their good?
Besides, Elizabeth hadn’t been some dewy rose, totally innocent and guileless. They’d had their issues. All couples did. And she’d once, in a moment of uncharacteristic low confidence, admitted she’d been glad they’d gotten pregnant right away, so that he would be guaranteed to stay with her. Yet Holt had emphasized her positive characteristics. With Sara, he’d highlighted shortcomings. Looking back, he realized how unfair that had been.
Sara leaned against the kitchen counter and took several gulps of water. She was still too pale. “Did you check in with Theo?”
“Dad says he’s just fine. Sleeping soundly. Becca’s on the floor by his bed.”
“Good.” Relief softened the hard lines of worry for a brief second before they formed again. “Do you think I killed John? I mean, not with my own hands, obviously...”
Holt’s anger at Toxin flared anew. “You mean, because a killer was watching you, John was on his r
adar? Toxin wanted to impress you, Sara, but never, ever believe that you’re the reason John’s dead. Using that logic, I’m just as much to blame as you are. I’m the reason Toxin found you.”
She reached up as if to touch his cheek, but quickly dropped her hand. Not this time. This time, he would allow himself her comfort. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and he felt her warm breath through his tuxedo shirt. He let go of her hand and sank his fingers into her hair, holding on for dear life. The locks were wavy, eager to spring free after being trapped by a comb all evening. He turned his nose into the softness. The smell of flowers filled him like the promise of spring during a desolate winter.
“Holt?” Sara’s question held a note of confusion but also one of hope.
“I need to hold you a minute.”
She was softness, warmth, vitality. He absorbed all of it like a dry sponge. Her arms tightened around his waist. She melted against him as her initial surprise gave way to acceptance. After several minutes, she pulled away enough to tip her head up to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Nothing was wrong. That was what was different. This time, holding her felt right. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away before.” The huskiness in his voice gave away his arousal.
Her pupils grew large, indicating her own interest. “You’re not pushing me away now.”
“No.”
“So what now?”
His laugh feathered her hair. “What do you mean?”
Her lashes fluttered, hooding her eyes. “I’ll give you a hint. I’m not pushing you away either. In fact, I really, really like being this close to you.”
He leaned down, taking her lips beneath his own. She parted for him, letting him in. A moan of relief laced with desire escaped him and he sank into her, trapping her between him and the kitchen counter. His hands slid down her sides and locked onto her hips, holding her in place so he could show her what he wanted.
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