by Pat White
“We know. What happened?”
“Spinelli got in through a window up top. I told Kreegan to watch the back of the garage, and I tried sneaking in the front.” He coughed and winced in pain. “Bad move on my part.”
“Wouldn’t be your first,” Max joked.
Jeremy glared. “Help me up.”
“You sure you don’t want to relax for a second?”
“Ah, don’t coddle me, Templeton.”
Max propped Jeremy up with an arm around his shoulder.
“Ambulance is on its way,” McDonald said, from the doorway. “Agent Kreegan is pretty messed up.”
“Why’s that?” Barnes asked.
“The suspect had dropped his firearm before she shot him,” McDonald explained.
Barnes looked at Max. “She did the right thing. Case closed.”
Max wasn’t so sure.
THE GROUP was in rare form, laughing and toasting their way into the evening. The Blackwell team had been given two weeks and had solved the case in less than four days. Not bad for a first project, Jeremy thought, packing up files on his desk.
Once the Chicago cops finished with the crime scene, it was pretty obvious that Barker was their killer from the start. Personal effects from the two victims were found in the garage loft, along with a Mardi Gras-type mask and vials of a mysterious drug being tested by police. They even found a laptop, and upon analyzing its Internet history, found all kinds of searches about the Crimson Killer case.
A drug connection between the victims and Barker was under investigation. The preliminary theory was that the college boys had been selling Barker’s drugs to school-mates, but wanted to stop. Barker said they couldn’t and they threatened to go to the police, forcing his hand.
Still, Max didn’t seem happy. He couldn’t understand why two boys, with no criminal background, had suddenly become drug dealers. He questioned Lyle Cooper’s connection, since the boy refused to admit he’d ever sold drugs.
Of course he wouldn’t admit it. He’d go from a hospital room to a prison cell.
Jeremy studied Max as he leaned back in an office chair observing, not participating in the celebration. Then Cassie knelt beside him and whispered something into his ear.
Maybe his concern had less to do with solving this case and more to do with his cute blond assistant. He’d be a fool to turn away from that sweet girl. But knowing Max, he’d ruin it for himself. At least that’s what he usually did. Almost as though he was punishing himself.
For what? They’d found Eddie in time. The agent was recuperating in the hospital. All was well.
His mobile went off. Jeremy ambled into the kitchen where it was quiet.
“Barnes,” he said.
“I got your voice mail. Congratulations,” the Patron said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m in New York on business. I plan to fly into Chicago tomorrow morning to meet the team and congratulate them.”
“I thought you said you wanted to be anonymous.”
“I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to make you and Templeton an offer. I need to do that in person. Expect me around ten.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Barnes, don’t reveal my identity quite yet.”
“If you think that’s best.”
“I do.”
The line went dead.
Jeremy went into the front room and turned off the music. Everyone looked up. “The Patron of Blackwell wants to meet with us tomorrow, mid-morning, to congratulate everyone in person.”
“Is he going to give us a bonus for finding the killer so quickly?” Bobby asked.
“A bonus? You? All you did was sit at the hospital and flirt with the nurses,” Art teased.
“Hey, I tell you what, why don’t I call a couple of them to meet up with us at a pub?”
Bobby whipped out his mobile.
“How about it, guv?” Art asked Max. “You up for a little pub crawling?”
“Not tonight. But you go, have a good time.”
“You sure?” Art said.
“Yes, and that’s an order.” Max started toward the steps.
“Count me in,” Jeremy said, hoping to corral the lot of them out of the house to give Max and Cassie privacy.
“Brilliant!” Bobby said, snapping his flip phone closed. “Nurse Monroe is coming and she’s bringing her roommate.”
“I’m too old for this,” Art said.
“Yeah, old man McDonald,” Finn taunted.
Spinelli followed them to the door.
“You coming, love?” Bobby asked Cassie.
“No, I’m really tired. But thanks.”
“I’ll be right out,” Jeremy said, then pulled Cassie aside. “You all right?”
“Sure.” She rubbed her arms as if chilled. “Just worried about you-know-who.”
“What’s Templeton done now?”
“He’s not sure you got the right man.”
“He’s not used to solving a case so quickly. He’ll warm up to the idea. Cheers.”
She smiled. “Have fun.”
“What, babysitting this gang of misfits?”
“What’s going on?” Agent Kreegan asked, coming out of the kitchen.
“We’re going out. Want to join us?” Jeremy offered.
“No. I have to get home for my daughter. She’s had a rough couple of months. Teenagers,” she sighed.
A car honked outside. “Can we give you a lift?” Jeremy asked Agent Kreegan.
“No. I’ve got my car.”
“Very well, then. Good night, ladies.”
He joined the group out front.
“You’re not going with them?” Agent Kreegan asked.
“No, I’m going to hang back.” Cassie’s gaze drifted up the stairs.
Agent Kreegan smiled. “I don’t blame you. Well, good night.”
Kreegan went out the front door and Cassie locked it behind her. She welcomed the quiet, the peace.
“Cassie?” Max said from the top of the stairs.
Her heart jumped. “Yes?”
“May I have a word with you?”
She swallowed back a ball of nerves and started up the stairs. She’d read the attraction in his eyes a moment ago. She cared so much for this man.
She went to his room. He wasn’t there. “Max?”
He opened the bathroom door, wearing only a towel around his waist. “It’s an old house, but they’ve got a Jacuzzi tub. I could use a soak, my hip…”
“Oh, right.”
“Come here.” He smiled, grabbed her wrist and pulled her against his naked chest. “I thought we’d start with a bath and work our way to the bed.”
She didn’t respond at first. He looked into her eyes. “Only if you want to.”
“I want to,” she said, “very much.”
He led her into the bathroom, where a candle cast a fiery glow on the tiled walls and water filled the tub. She started to unbutton her pants, but he placed his hand to hers. “Let me do it.”
With great precision he peeled off each layer of clothing until she stood in her bra and underpants. Holding her against him, he unhooked her bra, his gentle hands slipping between the lace and her skin. He slid it completely off and cupped her breasts with such reverence that her legs started to wobble.
“I’ve wanted you for a very long time,” he whispered into her hair, then skimmed his hands around her back, to her buttocks.
He slid one hand between her skin and her under wear. His other hand cupped her chin, tipping her face so she could look into his eyes.
“I’m absolutely mad about you,” he whispered.
He kissed her, the warmth of his lips spreading across her body to her fingertips. She’d never felt this kind of tenderness, this kind of heat. For a brief second it scared her. Then she remembered this was Max, a man with more integrity than anyone she’d ever met. A man who had come so far in accepting his physical condition and emotional trauma these past few days.
Earlier he’d
thanked her for challenging him out of his self-imposed darkness, and said he wanted to make tonight special.
So far he was doing a bang-up job.
He deepened the kiss and she found herself wishing that they were in a soft bed, instead of standing on cold tile. Her nipples peaked against his lightly haired chest, aching for something she couldn’t name.
He broke the kiss. “I don’t have the patience for the bath,” he said, breathing heavily against her lips.
“Thank God,” she joked.
He studied her expression and kissed her again, only this time, he picked her up.
“Your hip,” she protested.
“I’m fine.”
With Cassie in his arms, he leaned over the tub. “Hit the water, will you?”
She twisted the knob and water stopped running. “Good girl,” he whispered. In a jerky motion, he carried her into her bedroom.
She knew it had to be hurting him, but she also knew he wanted to prove something to her.
He placed her on the comforter. A streetlight reflected through her window, casting a soft glow across the room.
“Let me see you,” he said, running a hand between her breasts and down, past her belly button. She arched to make the connection, and when his fingers grazed her soft curls, she felt a moan rise from deep in her chest.
“You are a beautiful and amazing woman,” he whispered, shifting onto the bed beside her.
“Make love to me,” she demanded.
Slowly, tenderly, he shifted her on top so she could take the lead. He cradled her breasts, stroking her nipples in such a way that she thought she’d completely lose it. She realized he wanted her to. He wanted her to let go, give in to the attraction that had been growing between them for the past few months.
With her hands to his chest, she straddled him, opening to his need, absorbing his power. He reached between them and stroked her. She was going to come apart in his arms.
“Let go,” he whispered.
He stroked, thrust his hips, and stroked again. She cried out as she flew across the heavens. She heard him groan, then go still, guiding her to his chest. His heart beat strong and steady, just like the man.
And she knew, for once in her life, that this was love.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning Max showered, got dressed and packed his things. He was anxious to get back to Seattle and his life with Cassie.
His life with Cassie. God, he was lucky as hell.
He went to Cassie’s room to give her the open plane ticket. He figured she’d want to stay a day or two to visit her mother. He wouldn’t assume she’d want his company for that, but he’d stay if asked.
He started to knock on her door but thought better of it. Let the poor girl sleep. He’d worn her out last night. They’d worn each other out, making love, talking, holding one another until three in the morning.
Then they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, until a nightmare woke him. He didn’t want to keep Cassie up, so he went into his own room to give her peace.
He slipped the ticket under her door and headed downstairs. Some of the team had assembled in the front room, snacking on pastries and drinking coffee. Max went into the kitchen.
“Have a good time last night?” Max asked Jeremy.
“Not as good as you,” he teased.
“Hey, has anyone seen Cassie?” Eddie asked, coming into the kitchen.
“You should be in the hospital,” Max scolded.
“I’m fine. Checked myself out this morning. Wouldn’t miss this meeting. Where’s Cassie?”
“Still asleep,” Max said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Did she go clubbing with you guys?”
“No, actually.” Jeremy glanced at Max. “She didn’t.”
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Jeremy said.
Max went to the front room, accepting congratulations and good wishes. He’d come around to believing they’d caught the killer. After all, the evidence supported as much. Who was he to argue with it?
“I’d like to introduce the Patron of Blackwell,” Jeremy said. “Charles Edmonds.”
Max snapped his attention to the doorway. Bloody hell.
“Mr. Edmonds is here to congratulate you and offer you a permanent spot on the team,” Jeremy continued, his gaze intent on Max.
Max put down his mug, strode past Edmonds without saying a word, and went out the front door.
“Templeton!” Jeremy called.
Max slammed the door and started for the sidewalk.
“Where are you going?” Jeremy demanded from the landing.
“Any place but here.”
Jeremy caught up to him on the sidewalk. “Charles Edmonds founded the Blackwell Group, so what? His motivation is honorable and he’s got plenty of money to keep this thing going.”
“He made my life hell back in London. Have you forgotten?”
“That was over a year ago. Move on, for God’s sake. At least listen to the man. Then make your decision.”
“You lied to me, you bastard.”
“I didn’t tell you it was Charles because I knew your pride would get the better of you and you wouldn’t join the team. I needed you to help find a killer. Can’t you shelve your pride for once?”
He marched up the stairs and disappeared into the house. Max stood there, dumbfounded. Then the front door opened and Charles Edmonds stepped out.
He took a deep breath and glanced at Max. “How’s the hip?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m trying to be polite.”
“Good luck.”
He sighed. “Templeton, I know I’ve wronged you in the past and I’m sorry. Losing Charlie was the single worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He paused and glanced at the sky. “I’ve struggled ever since to make sense of it.” He pinned Max with his steely gray eyes. “I’ve created Blackwell to keep Charlie’s memory alive. This team,” He motioned toward the house, “exists for the sole purpose of solving crimes, maybe even saving other parents the devastating grief that Melinda and I had to endure. It’s my mission to see it thrive. I hope you decide to stay on and help Jeremy.”
“Pardon me if I struggle to process this, Charles. You nearly had me lynched in London.”
“I’m trying to make up for that. I lost my mind for a while. The only way I got it back was by creating this group. Blackwell was the name of Charlie’s horse…” His voice drifted off.
Max’s resolve started to crack. The man had lost his son, after all.
“I don’t like being manipulated,” Max said.
“I know. And I’m sorry. Jeremy didn’t think you’d help, what between the hatred you felt for me and the resentment towards him. I wish you’d consider leading the team. Well, I’ve said my piece.” He turned and went back into the house.
Max stood for a good five minutes trying to process this latest development. He remembered the brutal things Edmonds had accused him of: being a liar and a volatile and incompetent investigator. He’d even attacked Max’s scruples, that one.
Because he was in pain, because he’d lost a beloved son, a boy he loved with all his heart.
Still, Jeremy should have told Max who was footing the bill.
And Max would have never made this trip and found a killer. He wouldn’t have fallen in love.
He eyed the second floor where Cassie slept. He’d never felt this way before, safe and loved. The way she’d opened herself to him with such unconditional acceptance had awakened a part of his soul he hadn’t known existed. That couldn’t have been easy for her, not with her history.
His mobile vibrated, indicating he’d received a text message.
He retrieved the message:
She will die unless you come. Alone. Ba’hai Temple. Noon.
The number was blocked. Chills shot across his shoulders.
“Cassie,” he whispered, climbing the stairs into the house. He pushed though the front door and t
ore upstairs.
“What is it?” Jeremy called after him.
Max ignored him, reaching Cassie’s door and knocking, softly.
“Cassie, are you there, love?”
He knew in his gut she wasn’t. Not after that text message. He flung open her door and studied the room, all her belongings, her picture frame, robe, suitcase, still in place.
Max had been right: Barker had an accomplice, most likely the real killer.
The real killer had Cassie.
“Max?” Jeremy said, joining him in Cassie’s room. “What’s happened?”
“She’s gone,” was all he dared say. She was gone and if he didn’t meet a killer at noon, alone, she’d be dead.
“Maybe she’s gone out for a bite,” Jeremy said. “She’ll be back. Her things are still here.”
Get it together. Alone meant without the team.
Reality struck him hard in the chest—the killer had a connection to the team, that’s why he always knew their next move, where Max was at any given moment, and how to break into the command center. Max couldn’t trust any of them.
“Max?” Jeremy said. “Come downstairs and listen to what Charles has to offer.”
Snap to it, old boy. Get your wits back and pretend you aren’t on the brink of losing the love of your life.
Blast, if he had only stayed with her, held her all night long, the killer couldn’t have gotten to her.
But how? Did the killer snatch her from her bed? And no one had heard anything? Impossible.
His mind spun as he followed Jeremy downstairs into the meeting. With one part of his brain he listened to the proposal for the continuation of Blackwell, and with the other side he mapped out his next move.
“Please consider my proposal,” Edmonds said to the group. “I’d like to keep the team up and running indefinitely. I can offer a modest salary, all expenses paid, plus a retirement program.”
“Hear that, Art? Retirement.” Bobby slugged Art in the arm.
“Very funny,” Art shot back.
“Jeremy Barnes is your contact person,” Edmonds said.
“You staying on, guv?” Bobby asked.
Max glanced at him, unable to process his question. “I’m not sure, Bobby. I’ve got some things to work out.”
“He’s a big-time author now, going to make the bestseller list with your first book, aren’t ya’, guv?” Art added.