Touch of Red

by Laura Griffin

  When the waitress disappeared, Sean leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the booth. “Ice cream for dinner?”

  She shrugged. “Comfort food. It’s been a crap day.”

  His brow furrowed, and she wished she hadn’t reminded him. He looked all serious now, and she glanced away, bracing herself for an interrogation. Nothing about this felt like a conversation between friends, and it wasn’t.

  As the guy who wants to date you . . .

  Was that truly what he wanted? She’d known he wanted something from her, but she’d thought it had more to do with sex. Was that a line, or was he sincere? Maybe she was being overly skeptical, but that was how she was now—always second-guessing her instincts and questioning her judgment when it came to men.

  Sean was watching her closely, and she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat.

  “So, what did you want to ask me?”

  “Let’s start with the vehicle. At the station you identified the truck as a ’95 Chevy Silverado, all-black.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are you sure about the age on that?”

  “It’s an estimate. Give or take a few years.”

  “Only a few?”

  She huffed out a breath. “What are you getting at?”

  “Jorgensen drives a black pickup.”

  “I know what his truck looks like. He drives an F-250. That’s not the truck I saw today.”

  Sean just looked at her.

  “I told you, it wasn’t Matt. He’d never do something like this.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know, all right?” Her chest tightened. “I was with him for two years. We didn’t exactly break up on good terms, but he wouldn’t try to gun me down in the street, for God’s sake. He’s not capable of that.”

  “What’s he capable of?”

  Sean watched her, his expression unreadable. This was his cop face, and again she felt like she was in an interrogation. She looked away from him. A tear leaked out, and she brushed it away.

  “I’m sorry we have to talk about this,” he said quietly.

  “It’s fine. Let’s just get it over with. What do you want to know?”

  “Why did you guys break up?”

  She took a deep breath. “I didn’t like our pattern.”

  “So, you’re the one who ended it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you living together?”

  “No, thank God. That would have been harder.” She sighed. “He wanted me to move in with him, but I never felt good about it. I don’t know. I’d lived with someone once before, and it didn’t work out, and I didn’t want to go through all that again.”

  “You said you didn’t like your pattern.”

  Sean watched her, waiting for her to elaborate. He was looking so closely, picking up every nuance of her body language. He was good at reading people, and he’d know if she tried to sugarcoat anything, so she might as well tell him the truth.

  “He had a temper.” She cleared her throat. “He would yell. Throw things. Get up in my face. He wasn’t like that at first. I don’t know what happened, really, but it changed.”

  She looked at her hands and tried to collect her thoughts as all the old feelings came back. “Stuff would escalate, and my reaction only made things worse.”

  “What was your reaction?”

  She paused to try to describe the utter calm that would settle over her. “It wasn’t a conscious thing, really. It was just what I did. He would get louder and more pissed off and all red in the face, and I would go completely calm. I wouldn’t say a word or react or anything. It used to drive him crazy.”

  “You were in control and he wasn’t.”

  “I don’t know. Probably.” She glanced up at Sean, then looked down at her hands. “There was this one time, we were at the yogurt shop down the street from my house. We got in an argument over something stupid and he was being unreasonable. So I rolled my eyes and walked away from him. That set him off. He followed me down the sidewalk and started shoving me from behind, saying he wasn’t done talking to me. He kept shoving me and shoving me, and I kept walking faster and faster so I wouldn’t trip. And every jab was like a shock because I couldn’t believe he was making this scene in public.”

  She glanced up, Sean’s face was tight.

  “We got to my house, and I told him to go home and cool off. I told him if he ever touched me like that again, our relationship was over.”

  “Did he leave?”

  “He got in his truck and peeled off. And that was it. The next day he came over and acted like everything was fine. And it was for a while.”

  The waitress appeared with two tall shakes topped with whipped cream. Brooke stirred hers with the straw and took a sip to cool her throat.

  “Then a few months later it started up again. He’d been working all these weekends. Midnight callouts. He was under a lot of stress at work.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “I know.” She glanced at Sean. “Finally, one Saturday we both had the afternoon off, so we went to the river where some of his friends were hanging out at the sand volleyball court. You know the one by the campground?”

  Sean nodded.

  “So, we were standing beside the court, and it was the same old same old. We got in a disagreement about something minor. I told him he was wrong, and he picked up this big bottle of water and poured it over my head.” She remembered the icy liquid trickling down her neck and her back. She remembered her face heating. She’d been so stunned, and she’d wanted to disappear. “I mean, it was water. The most harmless thing in the world.”

  Sean was looking at her now, his gaze intent.

  “I was so shocked I just stood there. And I realized this was it. This was the end. He wanted to humiliate me in public and he did.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I laughed it off. I acted like it was a joke. But inside I knew that was it for me. It was only going to get worse.”

  She took a sip of her shake, letting the cold soothe her nerves. Sean still hadn’t touched his.

  “We finished the afternoon with everyone. Went home. I told him I was tired, so he could just drop me off. I think he knew something was up, but he went along with it. The next day I called him and told him I wanted a break. I didn’t have the guts to tell him in person. I wasn’t sure how he’d react.”

  “What did he do?”

  “We talked in circles for a while. He told me I was being unreasonable. Overreacting. He told me I didn’t understand the stress he was under at work. Whatever. I’ve got work stress, too. And I deal with cops all the time, so I know what the job’s like. Yeah, it’s stressful, but that doesn’t give you a pass to treat people like shit.”

  She took a deep breath. “So, that’s it. The whole crappy story. Aren’t you glad you asked?” Another tear leaked out and she swiped it away. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I’m not sorry it’s over or anything. My instincts told me it was going to get worse, not better, so I know I did the right thing, even though it’s been bumpy.”

  “Define ‘bumpy.’ ” She didn’t miss the edge in his voice.

  “Everything you’d expect. He came over drunk a few times. I pretended I wasn’t home. We’ve had some heated phone calls. He followed me around some.”

  Sean’s gaze narrowed. “He followed you?”

  “He’s not doing it anymore. I haven’t had a conversation with him in two months.”

  Sean was watching her closely, but she couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind. She decided to omit the part about the spying app on her phone. Alex had removed it, and Brooke didn’t want Sean to know she’d been gullible enough to miss something like that. She’d agreed to talk, but that didn’t mean she had to share every unflattering detail.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  “That’s not all you’re thinking. What else?”<
br />
  He put his hand over hers, and the warmth of it made her feel a pang of yearning.

  She pulled her hand away and rested it in her lap. “Matt has plenty of flaws. I’ll be the first to tell you that. But you should trust me when I say he’s not capable of that shooting today.”

  “You’d be surprised what people are capable of.”

  “He’s been in law enforcement six years, Sean. He does good things, and he’s a volunteer firefighter. He’s got third-degree burns on his arms from rescuing a little girl from a house fire. I’m not defending everything about him, but that shooting? You’re wasting your time looking at him for that. That’s linked to Samantha Bonner’s murder somehow. I know it is. That’s the avenue you should be pursuing.”

  “We are.” Sean pulled his shake toward him and finally took a sip, downing a third of it in one gulp.

  “And?”

  “And, as much as I hate to admit it, the drive-by reinforces my lieutenant’s theory that this whole thing is drug related.”

  “What about the theory that someone’s gunning down an eyewitness to a murder?”

  “If the target was Cameron? Yes, that makes sense. If the target was Kaitlyn, maybe not.”

  “It was Cameron.”

  The waitress was back with the check. Sean grabbed it. Brooke tried to leave money, but he waved her off. “No way. This was my idea.”

  They left the diner in silence, but it was a different kind of silence from before. Brooke felt relieved. Lighter. Like two heavy sandbags had been lifted off her shoulders.

  Sean opened the passenger door for her, and she slid into the truck. He stood beside her for a moment.

  “What?” she asked. “What’s that look?”

  He leaned in and kissed her. It was soft and sweet, and completely opposite of their other kisses, where she’d felt like he wanted to eat her alive.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “You amaze me.”

  “Why?”

  “Everything.”

  “Right.”

  He pulled back and shook his head, as if he didn’t want to bother arguing. He eased her door shut and then went around to his side and slid behind the wheel. She watched him as he fired up the truck and smoothly backed out of the space.

  He was so strong, so confident all the time. She felt strong, too, whenever she was around him. Right now, for instance. At this moment she felt full and energized—as though sharing her experience with him had taken some of its power away.

  It started to rain again as they exited the parking lot, and Sean switched on the wipers.

  “So, where to?” He glanced at her. “You want to go home yet?”

  “That depends.” She looked at him.

  “On?”

  Her stomach did a nervous dance, but she ignored it. “Does your offer still stand?”

  He stared straight ahead as they neared a stoplight. The truck was quiet—just the swoosh-swoosh of the wiper blades as they rolled to a halt.

  He looked at her. “My offer?”

  “I’d like to go to your place.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Saying she wanted to go home with him and actually doing it were two different things, Brooke discovered as they drove through town in silence.

  He’d answered her request with a brisk nod, but now she felt unsure. All her bold, fizzy confidence seemed to have evaporated. What if she was being too pushy? Maybe he didn’t want this tonight.

  She darted a glance at him, but his face was a stony mask as he navigated the late-night traffic. A muscle twitched at the side of his jaw, and she looked away as the doubts closed in on her.

  He slowed and turned onto a tree-lined street. Along one side were one-story houses, fairly new construction. The other side was condominiums. Sean swung into one of the condo driveways, and Brooke glanced around at the narrow brick units that backed up to acres of woods.

  “You live on the greenbelt?”

  “Yep.”

  He cut the engine and looked at her. She couldn’t read his expression in the dimness, and her doubts bubbled up again.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly.

  “I feel like I invited myself over.”

  “No. I invited you.”

  He unclipped his seat belt and reached for her, pulling her into a kiss, and the warm press of his mouth gave her the reassurance she wanted. She eased into him, loving his kisses, which had somehow become so addictive in only a few days. Running her fingers through his hair, she pulled him as close as they could get with the console between them. He cupped her head in his hands and changed the angle of the kiss. His mouth was hot and avid against hers, and he tasted of chocolate.

  “Mmm. You taste good,” she whispered, pulling him even closer.

  “Hold that thought.”

  He released her and slid out of the truck, going around the front to her side as she watched him through the rain-slicked windows. He opened her door and tugged her out as she grabbed her purse.

  “Watch your step.” He shut the door behind her and pulled her along the wet brick path to a front courtyard. She stood beside him, shivering in the rain as he unlocked the door. A bright floodlight lit the courtyard, but the house was dark inside as they stepped over the threshold. A beeping alarm greeted them, and he crossed the foyer to tap a code into a keypad.

  Brooke glanced around as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. A Saltillo-tile foyer led into a spacious living room dominated by a big black sofa and a stone fireplace with a TV mounted above it. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall, and through them she could see a lit balcony overlooking the woods. It was a real place, a grown-up place, and she felt oddly surprised by it.

  “This is nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I like—”

  He silenced her with a kiss. It was hungry and insistent. His strong arms came around her, and she felt herself being guided back and eased against the hard wooden door. Excitement surged through her as he kissed her and gripped her hips, pinning her body against the wood.

  He pulled back a fraction. “I wanted you here last night. You have no idea how bad I wanted that.”

  “Why?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  “I wanted to prove that I could keep my hands off you. You said I was impatient, and I wanted to show you I could wait.”

  She rolled her hips against him. “What do you want now?”

  He kissed her, hard, and his hand slid under her sweatshirt. “Now”—his fingers glided over her breast, stroking her nipple through the thin tank top—“all bets are off.” His voice was rough and desperate.

  She dropped her purse to the floor and pulled him in for another kiss, thrilled that he sounded so needy for her. She loved everything he was doing—the fierceness of his kiss, the warmth of his hands, both of them now, sliding under her sweatshirt. The expert stroke of his thumbs made her knees weak, and she twined her arms around his neck to keep from slipping to the floor.

  “You smell so good all the time,” he murmured against her neck.

  She kissed him again, glowing with the compliment as his hands slid down to cup her butt.

  “Hold on.” He scooped her up and made her gasp with surprise.

  She wrapped her legs around him as he walked her into the living room, where he lowered her onto the sofa and eased down on top of her. His body was solid and heavy, and despite all the layers, she could feel the hard press of his erection between her legs.

  “Sean.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Too many clothes.”

  He muttered something against her neck and went to work wrestling her sweatshirt over her head and flinging it away. He settled back on top of her, sliding his hand under the thin fabric of her top. She loved his mouth and his hands and the masculine hardness of his body. Everything he did made her want to be closer to him, as close as she could possibly get, without a single layer between them. She wanted to feel the heat of his skin under her fingertips. She worke
d his flannel shirt from his jeans and slid her hand under to be rewarded with the hard texture of his muscular abs.

  His fingers found her nipple again, and she pressed against him with a whimper. Her breasts weren’t big, but they were sensitive, and she wanted his mouth on them, but she didn’t want to ask. Instead she pushed him away so she could pull off her tank top, revealing a sheer pink bra that left little to the imagination. Thanks to her laundry situation, she was down to her fancy underwear.

  His eyes went dark and he kissed her, cupping her breast in his hand as she felt the hot pull of his mouth. She arched against him and combed her fingers into his hair as he made her entire body start to pulse with need. He found the clasp at her back, and even the whisper-thin fabric disappeared.

  “Me too,” she said, sitting up to undo the buttons of his flannel shirt. Before she could finish, he pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor, and her throat went dry as she saw his torso for the first time. She traced a finger over his sculpted pecs, but he seemed too distracted to notice as he settled over her again and dipped his head down to kiss her.

  “I love your breasts.”

  “Mine?”

  He looked up at her from between them, that sexy half smile on his face. “You see any others here?”

  “They’re small.”

  “They’re fucking perfect.” He closed his mouth over her nipple, sending a jolt of lust through her that had her squirming and panting and pulling him by his hair. He knew she liked what he was doing, and he seemed to enjoy teasing her, alternating his attention from one side to the other, all the while pressing against the throbbing juncture between her legs. The combination was making her dizzy. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it as she ran her fingers over his shoulders and savored the feel of his weight on her. His hand glided down to her waist and she felt him unbuttoning her jeans.

  “Is this okay?” His gaze was dark and serious, and the tone of his voice touched her.

  She nodded.

  She kept her eyes locked on his and heard the rasp of her zipper. Then he moved down the sofa on his knees, unzipping her boots, one by one, and removing them from her feet, followed by her socks. Then his hands were back at her hips again and he slowly slid the jeans down her body, and that’s when the tremors started.