by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann
That was all the instruction he required.
Peter Hadden lowered her to her feet in the middle of her cluttered bedroom. One by one he released the buttons of her police-issue shirt, then pulled it free of her slacks and pushed it off her shoulders. He ushered her to the edge of the unmade bed, then knelt before her to remove her shoes and socks.
Kayla said nothing. She simply reveled in watching him. His unhurried movements. His close attention to every single detail, like the way he massaged her bare feet. The feel of his long fingers soothing, caressing almost undid her completely.
He released the button at her waist. She stood just long enough for him to lower the zipper then tug down the slacks. At last she was naked save for her bra and panties. The way he skimmed her body with his eyes, his expression awed, she couldn’t possibly feel embarrassed, only flattered…desired.
With slow, infinite finesse he kissed her belly, teased her flesh with his tongue.
Her body quivered in anticipation. She couldn’t take it.
Tugging him to his feet she assumed control. She wasn’t nearly so patient and careful in removing his clothes. Buttons flew loose from his shirt. He kicked off his shoes and she dragged down his trousers and briefs.
Finally they were on the bed together, his weight bearing down on her. The panties and briefs disappeared. The bra fell away. He was touching her all over, with those skilled hands and that wicked tongue.
His kisses went on and on, pleasured every part of her and she paid him back in kind.
When neither of them could take the building tension any longer, he entered her…held completely still for one endless moment. When they could breathe again he started to move…she met his every thrust until they came together in a searing blast of frantic release.
The second time they reached for each other, both had grown bolder, more creative, allowing for an even deeper physical satisfaction. This time it was about pure pleasure, not the desperation of the first time.
His breath ragged from his recent climax, Hadden slumped against her back. The smooth, damp feel of his skin set hers on fire all over again. She snuggled deeper into the covers, arched her bottom against him and relished the feel of him on top of her, his still-hard sex pressed firmly against her buttocks.
She should have known it would be like this. Maybe that’s why she’d resisted the attraction for so long.
There had been other men in her life, but somehow, she had known Peter Hadden was different…special. Too good to be true. She shivered, suddenly uncertain of herself.
“I may not survive this night,” he murmured against her ear. “You are incredible.”
Kayla couldn’t prevent the smile that tickled her lips from widening into a grin. “Don’t talk,” she warned. “Catch your breath so we can go again.”
He pressed his lips to her shoulder. “Fine by me.” He kissed lower, flicked his tongue in slow circles on her flesh. “This time you can be on top first.”
“You like that, do you?” she asked, forcing away her feelings of vulnerability.
She started to turn over, but he stopped her. “Hold still.”
She obliged, unsure she actually wanted to wait for anything. Considering the second round had been markedly more delicious than the first, she could only imagine how round three would be.
“What’s this?”
He touched a sensitive place on her back just above her shoulder blade.
“What does it look like, a mole?” She had noticed a tender spot now and again at the edge of where her bra strap hit, but each time she’d tried to see the cause in the mirror it simply looked like an irritated mole.
“I don’t think this is a mole. I think…hmmm.”
“What?” She pushed her way into a sitting position, forcing him to move off her. “What is it?”
“Let me wash my hands.” He climbed off the bed. “Do you have some peroxide and maybe some Q-tips?”
“In the bathroom.” Frowning, Kayla watched him trot to the adjoining bathroom. But the view had her frown fading fast. He had a great ass. Truly superb, muscled buttocks that made her insides contract with want…even after two sessions of phenomenal sex.
“Look under the sink,” she shouted when she heard him rummaging through her medicine cabinet. Maybe a third round wasn’t a good idea after all.
Prompted by the sound of water running she decided maybe she should at least pull on her panties. By the time she’d tracked them down and tugged them up her legs he was back, peroxide, Q-tips, and cotton balls in hand.
Her gaze instantly dropped from that well-defined chest to a six-pack abdomen and then lower still to runner’s legs and a semi-aroused sex. The air hissed out of her lungs.
Oh, yes. There would have to be a round three.
Whatever tomorrow might bring…she was going to enjoy this. The damage was done. She’d slept with him. What difference did it make if it was once or four times?
“Sit.” He gestured to the edge of the bed. She obeyed. He settled onto the bed behind her. “This might sting a little.”
“What the hell is it, Hadden?” She absolutely would not call him by his first name and make this any more personal.
“We’ll see, Ryan,” he mocked.
Her face flushed with the idea that he knew exactly what she was doing. She felt him probing with one of the Q-tips and she focused on that for the moment.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry.”
Sorry or not, he kept prodding. She gritted her teeth to keep from complaining further. No way was he going to call her a wimp.
“Got it.”
He dabbed peroxide onto the wound. “Check this out while I get the antibiotic ointment and a bandage.”
He handed her a cotton ball with a tiny object, about the size of an apple seed, on it. What the hell?
Carefully she set the cotton ball on the dresser and put on a T-shirt. She needed a magnifying glass. She picked up the cotton ball, then moved into her living room and fished for the magnifying glass she kept in her desk. If need be she’d drag out Jazz’s chemistry set. But a microscope might not be necessary.
Ten minutes later, her wound covered with ointment and a bandage, she’d dug out the microscope and both she and Hadden had taken turns viewing the object.
“It’s a tracking device,” she pronounced, bewildered.
“I agree.” He drew back from the child-size microscope and looked at Kayla. “When do you suppose you picked this up? And where?”
Thankfully he’d pulled on his pants, otherwise she might not have been able to concentrate. She raked her fingers through her hair and wracked her brain for an answer. “I don’t know. I…” The memory of fainting at the academy back in August shortly after Rainy died slammed into her memory. She’d gone there just after Rainy’s funeral to make a copy of Rainy’s medical file. She’d passed out, right by the copier. At first she’d thought it was from stress, but later she and the Cassandras had discovered that the Cipher—the assassin who’d killed Rainy—had a device that used a frequency to cause people to pass out. He’d used it to cause Rainy’s accident. He’d later tried to do the same to Alex, while she’d been driving. And he had likely used it on Kayla. And now she could guess why.
Betsy Stone had been keeping an eye on her when she awoke. Kayla just bet that Betsy had implanted the device.
Christine had been there too, when Kayla woke up. Could she have been in on it?
“How long do you think it’s been there?”
He thought about that a moment. “More than a few weeks. Couple months maybe. It’s hard to say. Your bra strap probably irritated it.”
If his guess was even close to accurate, the timing fit.
She bagged the device in a Ziploc sandwich bag. The idea that Betsy Stone had planted the device on her while she was unconscious, probably a victim of the Cipher’s technique, made her blood simmer with rage. No wonder her shadow had been able to follow her every move. She had no doubt now
that the numerous anomalies were connected. Rainy’s death, Christine’s shooting and Kayla’s shadow were all related. “I’ll have Fred Kaiser over at the lab take a look at this to confirm our suspicions.”
“Good idea.”
She set the bag on the counter and looked up at him. As furious as she was at the idea of Betsy Stone having done this to her—certainly no one else had had the chance—there was nothing she could do about it tonight. And she definitely didn’t want to answer any more of Hadden’s questions. Like him, when it came to his cases, there was only so much she was at liberty to disclose.
“So, what now?” she asked. Her heart started to hammer as she saw desire flicker in his eyes.
“It’s not that late.” He was right. Just past midnight. “I guess we could get some sleep since we both have a big day tomorrow.”
She locked her arms around his neck and tilted her mouth toward his. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Right.” His mouth closed over hers and everything else drifted into insignificance.
Kayla overslept the next morning.
“Dammit.” She snapped her utility belt into place and shoved her weapon into its holster.
What the hell had she been thinking last night? She grabbed the bag that contained the tracking device. She’d drop it off first, then check on Christine.
Then she intended to find Betsy Stone, dead or alive.
“The morning after is the worst part.”
Her gaze collided with Hadden’s. He lounged against her kitchen counter, second cup of coffee in hand. She had to look away from his damaged shirt. She couldn’t believe she’d ripped it off him. Those desperate moments tumbled one over the other through her mind.
No matter how embarrassed a part of her was this morning, her body still hummed with lingering pleasure. Damn, the guy knew how to make love to a woman.
“I have to go.” She couldn’t talk about last night right now. Didn’t even need to be thinking about it. She had to find that nurse. Alex and Justin would arrive sometime today. And she had to touch base with Sam, Darcy, Tory and Josie about Christine and Marshall. God, she still couldn’t believe Marshall was dead. But it was true. And with his body still in Colombia, God only knew when a funeral would happen. “Lock up for me, would you?” She had to get out of here.
Hadden stepped in her path when she would have left the room. “I’ll call you.”
She nodded. Didn’t want him to make promises he might not be able to keep. Her experiences thus far with commitment had been less than reliable. That’s why she didn’t do long-term relationships.
He took her by the arm before she could get away. “I will call, Kayla. Count on it. I’ll be in the area for a day or two on another case. I hope we can have dinner.”
“Gotta go.”
Kayla left the handsome detective from Tucson in her kitchen. She had to have been out of her mind to have allowed things to go so far with him.
She did a bone-jarring, ninety-degree turn in Reverse out of her driveway and rocketed forward in the Jeep.
She hadn’t even been out on a date with the guy and she’d slept with him!
Christ!
Was that stupid or what?
Blocking any further thought on the subject before she could start answering herself, she whipped out her cell phone and checked in with her partner. He needed to know where she would be this morning.
Next she called Mary’s house, but her sister had already taken Jazz to choir practice.
Dammit. She’d wanted to talk to her daughter this morning.
She’d just have to make sure she picked her up at noon and that they spent some quality time together. Sorted out this mess. Maybe she’d even call Mike and apologize. Scratch that. She wasn’t going to surrender that easily. He had to understand that his participation in Jazz’s life had to be a team effort. He had to work with Kayla, not against her. Let him apologize.
The drive to the lab near Casa Grande took up precious time. Kayla didn’t hang around and chat with her pal Fred. He promised he would have a full analysis for her by lunchtime and would call her cell phone. She smiled grimly at the thought that whoever was tracking her would be on a wild goose chase until they realized the game was up. Just over half an hour later, having broken a number of traffic laws, she was back in Athens.
Athena Academy looked desolate this morning. Only a few more days from Christmas, it was most likely everyone was gone for the holidays. Rebecca Claussen wasn’t in yet so Kayla decided to check out Betsy Stone’s place just in case she’d returned.
She parked her Jeep at Christine’s bungalow and made her way on foot through and around the copse of trees that dotted the rear of the small housing area. There was still no vehicle in sight at Betsy’s house, but it could be in the garage. If Betsy was in there, Kayla didn’t want her to have any warning that she had company. She supposed there was some chance the woman didn’t realize her cover had been blown. It took some courage to keep doing her job when Kayla had confronted her on two other occasions with certain facts. The seemingly unfazed woman had simply denied the accusations and gone on about her business. Or maybe the woman was just plain cocky. If Kayla’s suspicions proved accurate, Stone had been at this for years. She’d had plenty of time to get comfortable with lying.
When Kayla reached the rear entry door to Betsy Stone’s bungalow a smile slid across her face, the first job-related one in several days.
Someone had been in Betsy’s house. The tape Kayla had placed across the edge of the door beneath the locking mechanism had been pulled loose from the jamb by the opening of the door.
Kayla’s pulse rate jumped into double time. She hoped like hell it was Betsy.
Kayla prayed the back door wouldn’t squeak as she slowly turned the knob and ushered the wooden door inward. It obliged.
Sounds echoed from somewhere beyond the kitchen. A bedroom maybe?
Kayla moved noiselessly across the room, her weapon drawn and leveled. As she cleared the living room and started into the hall the sounds grew louder, more distinct. Whoever was in there, he or she was definitely doing some damage. The rip of fabric combined with the friction of ransacking splintered the air.
Kayla paused outside the door of the first bedroom she reached. The perp didn’t let up, had no idea he or she was about to have company.
Tightening her grip on her weapon, Kayla swung around the doorjamb and leveled her weapon on the first thing that moved.
Betsy Stone.
Chapter 11
Kayla watched Betsy Stone from the observation booth on the other side of the mirror flanking one wall of the interrogation room. She hadn’t admitted to anything yet other than having driven to Texas to visit her niece. Dammit. Kayla suspected it was a lie, but since she hadn’t been able to reach the so-called niece, she couldn’t disprove Betsy’s statement.
“You realize we can only hold her twenty-four hours on suspicion,” Jim said, “then we’ll have to charge her or let her go.”
“I know.” Letting her go would be a huge mistake. Betsy Stone had been preparing to run when Kayla had found her. The woman’s purse had contained her passport as well as a couple thousand dollars cash. Kayla couldn’t figure out what had brought her back to her place on campus unless that’s where she’d left the passport. Kayla hadn’t found a thing of interest in her search. The house had been a bust, as had the woman, other than the passport. So far.
The destruction Betsy Stone had been up to in the bedroom could have been an attempt to make it look as if her home had been ransacked. With her missing and her place torn apart, anyone looking for her might tie her disappearance to Christine’s shooting.
Kayla had proposed just such a scenario to her suspect moments ago, but Betsy had refused to respond.
“I’m gonna try one more thing,” Kayla said, more to herself than to her partner. She couldn’t let Stone slip through her fingers. She knew too much.
“Need my help?”
&nb
sp; Kayla thought about that a moment, then said, “Yeah, I do.”
She filled Jim in on her plan before sauntering into the interrogation room where Betsy Stone waited, her entire demeanor amazingly serene.
For almost a full minute Kayla stood there and peered down at her suspect, giving the woman ample time to grow apprehensive about what would happen next. Betsy Stone wore her usual conservative attire, slacks and a sweater. Her bottled-blond hair was secured at her neck to keep it out of her way. The only thing missing was the stethoscope she’d accessorized with for as long as Kayla could remember.
“Ms. Stone,” she said finally, using the formal address to set the necessary tone, “I’ve just come from another interview room where we’re holding a material witness.”
Betsy looked up at her and shrugged. “I have no idea what you mean, Kayla.” She rearranged her face into a frown. “Why did you bring me here? You surely know I didn’t have anything to do with Christine’s shooting. I wasn’t even home. I only just returned from Texas.”
Kayla kept the smirk off her face. She had one ace up her sleeve and it was now or never. “The witness I was referring to is Cleo Patra. She’s from Vegas. Sound familiar?”
Giving Stone credit, she didn’t even flinch. “I’m afraid I have no idea who you’re talking about. Does she claim to know me?”
Kayla pulled out the adjacent chair and sat down. “Actually she does. About twenty years ago you worked with a Dr. Henry Reagan in providing prenatal care for the child she surrogated.”
Stone blinked her blue eyes a couple of times in bewilderment. “I’ve already told you I worked with many women during my time with Doctor Reagan. I don’t remember a Cleo Patra—one surely wouldn’t forget that name. But I saw so many people, it’s entirely possible that I did work with her.”
“Really.” Kayla pushed back her chair, allowing the legs to scrape across the tile floor. She stood, folded her arms over her chest and walked around the room, pretending to mull over the nurse’s comment. She took her time, didn’t rush, let the woman stew.