Death Stretch

by Ashantay Peters

  “The writing looked like a guy's scrawl to me. Stay with me.”

  “Don't you think your invitation's a little sudden? We haven't even made love yet.” Oops. What if his offer meant his couch or guest room?

  “It will happen. Admit it. You couldn’t keep your eyes off me at the studio. Just a matter of time till we do the deed.”

  “You must not have heard me. Men in blue aren't my favorite people.” Arrogant ass. Okay, so I’ve checked his butt out once or twice. How did he see me do it? Too bad he can read me like a grad student with a grade school primer.

  “I'm not wearing blue.” He ran the back of his fingers across my cheek. “You're not safe here.”

  I shivered. That was the truth and the reality pissed me off. I loved my sweet little mess of a bungalow.

  “Don't even try to argue. Get your stuff while I call this in.”

  Did I say arrogant ass? Let me add high-handed, big-headed, over-bearing and - and - I need a thesaurus. Oh, yeah. Over-confident and pushy.

  “Okay, look. Maybe staying with me isn't the best option right now.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Would Ginger have room in the McMansion for you? Or do you not get along with her husband?”

  Tell him or not? My mouth made the decision for me. “Rob's gone.”

  “What? You should have told me.” The growl coming out of his mouth gave me shivers, and not in a good way.

  “Just happened. He left tonight.”

  Dirk snapped open his phone and turned his back on me. I didn't know which hurt more, his anger or his cold shoulder. Maybe both caused the burning in my chest.

  “Matt, we've got a runner. Rob Howe. He's around six two, one-ninety, blue eyes. Hell, just get his DMV photo into circulation.” He turned to me. “What does he drive?” To my blank look he said, “Telling me is faster than looking up their vehicles. At least it would be if you'd answer.”

  “He took his new car this morning, a white Mercedes SL class.” Good thing I'd asked Ginger. They'd be looking for the right auto instead of putting out an alert on all the models stored in her five-car garage.

  “Don't forget the Homeland Security travel restriction and get someone tracking his credit cards. Wait a minute.” Dirk stopped for a breath.

  “Matt, see if you can get a read on his vehicle.” His phone clicked shut and he turned toward me. “The government never should have discontinued the Space Program.”

  The sudden detour threw me. “What does NASA have to do with tracking a fugitive?”

  “Where do you think all our technology came from? But first we need to get you someplace safe.” He moved in. “I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

  Maybe the kitchen mess had scrambled my brain, but before we went further, I needed to clear the air. “Dirk, are you interested in me because I look like Amy?”

  “You're not her.”

  I stepped back. “You’re not her,” was not what I'd wanted to hear. My body language must've telegraphed that because he pulled me back into the circle of his arms.

  “There’s a slight resemblance. Your similarities surprised me at first, but that's not why I'm here.”

  “So, why?”

  He nuzzled my neck. “Sex. Well, sex and I want to protect you. At least I do when you're not off wielding a fry pan.”

  “It's not fair for you to bring it up. I wouldn't have to carry a fry pan if people would stop breaking into my house.”

  His lips moved to my ear lobe. “And that brings me to my next point.”

  “Only one?”

  He moved his lips to my neck. If we weren't having a serious conversation, his action would have my knees collapsing. “Call Ginger. Ask her to let you stay with her.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I'll find a place to stay.”

  He pulled away from my neck, leaving disappointment behind. His eyes narrowed. “What are you not telling me?”

  My throat needed clearing. “We had a fight. Ginger kicked me out.”

  “That does it. You're coming with me. Find a bag.” He yanked open a drawer. Of course, he chose the one holding my “someday my Prince will come underwear.” His hand stilled on the black satin Teddy, then he scooped the lingerie and added a few more choice numbers to his grasp. His eyes were dark when his gaze met mine. “Got that bag ready, yet?”

  I looked at his satin and silk filled hands. No contest. I grabbed a duffel bag off the closet shelf. It wasn’t imported leather but it got the job done.

  The doorbell rang. He stuffed my underwear in the bag and stalked from the room, his packing done. Men.

  My packing didn't take long, either. I swung the bag onto my shoulder and headed into the kitchen. I said hello to the crime scene techs moon-suiting their way into my kitchen. My neighbors could have a field day analyzing all the activity in my little bungalow. I'd rather they had something else to gossip about.

  Dirk stood to one side speaking in a low voice with Matt. Their conversation broke off when I joined them but I heard one phrase that chilled me. “His alibi doesn't check.”

  Were they talking about Rob or someone else?

  “So, Matt, I need you to handle this. I'm taking Ms. Sheridan to a friend's house.”

  Matt looked me over and smirked. “Maybe you should stop by Urgent Care and get that neck bruise checked out, first.” He pointed to my left side.

  I slapped a hand over my neck. My face heated and I turned an angry stare on Dirk. What the hell did he do? Mark me? That was so high school.

  Matt laughed, punched Dirk on the arm and turned away. We left and none too soon. I decided I should have packed some everyday underwear because my Prince remained a frog.

  We climbed into his car and he pulled out of the drive, all in silence.

  “Why didn't you tell me you’d left marks? I'd have changed my top.” Our mutual passion, on top of the intruder, left me discombobulated. Otherwise I'd have ripped him a new one.

  “Heat of the moment. That bruise came up fast. I didn't notice.”

  My eyes narrowed and I knew smoke poured out of my ears like a cartoon character. Did I see a smirk on his too handsome face? Retribution was mine, and it was gonna be hell. On him.

  We pulled onto a street in a quiet neighborhood I remembered from my childhood. The houses hadn't changed much, gentrified but still solid working class houses with good-sized yards. Developers went with the rich farmland on the outskirts of town, and that's where Ginger's McMansion was located. Dirk’s neighborhood spoke to my middle class soul and soothed me.

  He parked in front of a small Cape Cod. The yard had nice plantings, but the grass needed a cutting. The house looked less than two thousand square feet with a master on the first floor and two slanted ceiling bedrooms boasting small dormer windows upstairs. The main floor likely held a small living room, eat-in kitchen and bath besides the master. That was my assessment until we entered.

  The tiny rooms and dark interior I envisioned didn't exist. Instead, thanks to a tasteful addition at the back, he had an open floor plan with lots of windows. Sparse furniture with a masculine feel and size fit the house. The couch looked like I could stretch out and get in a solid eight hours. I plopped my butt onto it, duffel at my feet. “Nice couch. You have a blanket and pillow I can use?”

  “Nope.”

  “No?” I hid a smile. My heart and lots of other places did a happy dance.

  “I've got a guest room upstairs. Has a bed and attached bath. You can stay there.”

  The happy dance died a strangled death. “Okay, that works for me.”

  “Unless—”

  I held my breath. We hadn't known each other long, but Dirk read me better than anyone except Ginger.

  His hand snaked out and wrapped around the back of my neck. His lips were on mine and I forgot about the awkwardness of being in his home for the first time, the mess at my bungalow and the killer. Everything melted away in the heat of a tongue-tangling kiss. Happy moans filled the room, all from
my throat.

  Dirk ran his fingertips over my forehead, smoothed my eyebrows then rubbed my cheekbones. His thumb caressed my lips and I arched my back, pushing my already tightened nipples against his chest. He dipped his head, replacing his thumb with his lips. There were more happy moans and shameless arching on my part.

  My fingers moved into his hair and massaged his head. It was Dirk's turn to moan, thank you very much. Gratified with his response, my hand massaged the knots in his neck and shoulders. His muscles loosed under my fingers. Gee, guess I could have an alternative career if construction slowed down any more.

  He moved his mouth to my ear and I couldn't help it. I moved my head to the side just in case he wanted to do some in-depth work in the area. He did, thank you God of Love. His licks and nibbles set up a heat wave. I wondered how long it'd be before I went up in flames.

  He must have felt the heat. “I think you've been a bad girl.”

  “Me?” What, he wanted to question me about the murder again? Damn. Things were just getting good.

  “Mm-hmm. I should do a strip search. You could be hiding weapons. Drugs.”

  “Isn't that the job of a female officer?”

  His head jerked up and his gaze searched mine. “Are you not interested or are you saying you're into kinky stuff?”

  I pulled his head back down and sucked his bottom lip. “Interested. Definitely interested.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dirk rolled off me with a satisfied grunt. From him it sounded sexy.

  My heart pounded and I was slick with sweat and other bodily fluids. When he shifted, a chill moved across my body.

  He lay on his side, elbow crooked, head propped on his hand. “I knew you had weapons and drugs on you.”

  I arched my back, my hand trailed across my forehead. “So are you taking me in, detective?”

  He ran his free hand across my boobs then trailed his fingers down my chest to my stomach. “Not yet. I'd better do a cavity search to make sure you aren't hiding more.” His search took his hand to my curls, where his fingers kept his promise.

  My hips came off the bed.

  “If you get unruly, I may have to handcuff you.”

  “I promise I'll be good.”

  He leaned over me, his lips hovering over mine. “Just remember I'm watching your every move.”

  Untold minutes later I screamed, “I'll be good.” Another big O ripped through me.

  Role playing. Gotta love it.

  ****

  I was up and moving slow, but the coffee helped. Dirk drove off at dawn, leaving me a big glass of ice water on the night table. I hoped Jim hadn't messed up too much at my desk. After two hours of sleep, my synapses weren't firing the way they should.

  The Get Solid trailer was silent when I got there, but not for long. My outraged howl filled the room when I saw my desk. Or what would be a workspace if it weren't covered with a pile of project plans.

  “I knew you couldn't stay away. Thanks for coming in, Katie.” Jim stood behind me. My howl covered the sound of the door and his footsteps.

  “What did you do to my desk?”

  “Um, sorry?”

  His sheepish grin might work with his wife, but cute doesn't cut it with me. “Jim, what were you thinking? Or were you thinking?” I ran my hands through my hair and hit a snarl. “Ouch. You didn't try to run the Auto-CAD, did you?”

  He ducked his head and my questions. “Are you sure you should be in today? You look a little rough around the edges. Maybe you should take today off and I'll clean some of this up.”

  I debated the intelligence of yelling at my boss for making a mess of my desk after he gave me time off because I was involved in a murder. As I tried to consider all the ramifications of what should have been a simple question, three of the supervisors tromped in.

  “Hey, Katie. What happened to your neck? Looks like you backed into the wrong set of teeth.”

  Cam grinned. “Her neck? What about her cheeks? That's beard burn if you ask me.”

  My fists went to my hips in defense mode. “I'm sorry I gave you pointers on proposing, Cam.” I adjusted my collared tee and buttoned it. “By the way, how did it go? She say yes?”

  Cam's grin got bigger. “Yep. Thanks, Katie. You're the bomb.”

  Tommy, the sheet rock supervisor, rubbed his hand over his mouth and tried to look serious but his eyes sparkled. “Speaking of bombs, did one go off in your bedroom?”

  I braced myself. “Why do you think that, Tommy?”

  Tommy pursed his lips in a silent whistle and looked to the ceiling. Maybe he prayed I didn't kill him after he spoke. “Your shoes don't match.” He elbowed the other supervisor and they cracked up. “I thought maybe you couldn't find anything else to wear.”

  Crap. The supervisors were the last people I wanted noticing a tidbit like that, so I went on the offensive. “Actually, someone broke in last night and did a number on my kitchen.”

  Oh, boy. That did it. The testosterone level rose eighty degrees in thirty seconds. Jim responded first. “Katie, you come stay at my house. No one will get close with me and the dogs on guard.”

  Jim had a pack of the laziest bloodhounds in existence. Not only that, with his blood pressure, he couldn't be anywhere near stress, and that was my middle name.

  I put my hand on his arm. “Thanks, Jim, but I'm fine.”

  “Sure, you're fine. You've got mismatched shoes, marks on your neck and burns on your face. What the hell?”

  Should I tell him it was all self-invited? “Thanks, but I'm okay. Really. I may go stay with Ginger. She's got an alarm system.”

  The door opened. Matt and Dirk walked in as I finished my last sentence. Dirk knew I lied about staying with Ginger, but to his credit, didn't rat me out.

  Jim frowned. “We're not hiring right now.”

  Matt stifled a grin behind his hand. “We already have jobs, Mr. Prestwick.” He pulled his credentials holder from his pocket and showed his badge. “With Granville Falls Police Department.”

  Dirk's throat clearing made the only sound in the trailer. Even the sputtering coffee maker stopped brewing. “Ms. Sheridan, would you have a moment to speak with us about your report?”

  Cam and Tommy nudged each other then Cam spoke. “You coming to ask her about the break-in last night? When you find the jerk that messed up her kitchen, let us know, will ya?”

  Matt answered. “Justice will be served in court, guys.”

  Tommy's smirk made me wish I could run from the room. He was bound to embarrass me. “You should find the guy that gave her those beard burns on her face. Whoever it is needs some lessons in the right way to treat a lady.”

  What do you know? I was right. I prayed the floor would open to save me, but it remained solid. Crap.

  Dirk's lips quirked at the corners. I didn’t see another reaction. “Do you want to file another complaint, this one for assault? Or battery?”

  I looked at Dirk then at his partner. Matt's eyes sparkled, daring me to answer. Dirk wore his stone face. I did what I do best. Ignored the question.

  “Um, you said you had some questions to ask me?” I turned to Jim, hoping my face wasn't as red as it felt. “Mind if we step outside for a minute?”

  “Nope, go ahead.” He grabbed Tommy and Cam by their necks and pointed them toward my desk. “You yahoos can help me straighten Katie's desk.”

  An eye roll and short walk later, I stood outside with Dirk and Matt. The sun burned hot.

  “What's up?” I hoped my casual tone threw Matt off his hound dog scent.

  “The crime scene report came in. No prints besides yours found in the kitchen. The intruder wore gloves.”

  I sighed. “Everyone wears gloves.”

  Dirk looked at his partner. “Can we have a minute?”

  Matt shrugged and walked to their car, but not before I saw the smirk decorating his face.

  “The offer to stay with me stands.”

  His words tempted me but if we lived to
gether, even for a couple of days, we'd wear each other out. “Nope.”

  “That's it? You're not going to think about it?”

  “Yep and nope.”

  His jaw tightened. “You're impossible.” He turned on his heel then stopped and faced me again. “We could have something special, Katie, and you're too scared to give it a try.”

  “The other night you told me I'm not Amy. I see what you mean now. I'm just a cheap imitation.”

  “Katie, no.”

  “You turned your back on me to phone Matt when I was in the room. You don't want me to be part of this mess, but I'm in it up to my neck. Against my will, I might add. You want to make something with me? Then treat me like I'm worthy of more than some hot sex and regular door locking orders.”

  His frown, tight shoulders, fisted hands and pursed mouth described his thoughts louder than words. He moved his head from side to side.

  “I can't do that, Katie, and you shouldn't ask. A killer is after you and Ginger. Do you really think I'll expose you to that?” He took a step back. “Don't ask me to.”

  “Then we don't have much to say, do we?” I knew withdrawal was my normal response to overwhelming emotions. Feeling exposed made me squirm and look for escape routes.

  A vulnerable look flashed across his face and disappeared so fast I thought it a trick of the light. Maybe we shared that trust problem.

  “Guess not. Take care of yourself, okay?” He turned and walked away without looking back.

  ****

  “I'm sorry.” Ginger's subdued voice crossed the telephone line to my ear.

  “So am I.”

  That's all we said. When words come from the heart, it doesn't take many to get the meaning across. I think I saw that on a greeting card.

  Taking a deep breath, I asked, “How're you doing?”

  “Let's see. I'm being blackmailed, my husband is gone and oh, yeah, I threw my best friend out of my life. Life could get worse, but I'd hate to be there.”

  Ginger. Master of the understatement.

  “Mona called. Said we should stop by.”

  My mouth watered. Then it turned arid. If Mona called wanting us to stop by, it meant she had some information. That could be good or bad.