“Go over now,” he demanded. “Let me hear you.”
She did both, a beautiful symphony from her arched throat, her pussy convulsing on him and pushing him over the same edge. He came harder and longer than he expected, but he couldn’t stop. Not with her. Not until every drop was spilled inside her.
When they finally coasted in for a bumpy landing, he was aware of the bite of her nails through his shirt, how tightly he was holding her head and waist. He hadn’t removed his shirt or hers, yet they were still melded together from groin to chest, and he wasn’t sure her arms could be removed from around him without a crowbar. He didn’t mind. He didn’t want to let go of her either. He braced his forehead against the wall next to hers and inhaled her hair. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of doing that. She streaked the chestnut brown with some kind of blondish highlights and the scent of the thick strands was fragrant and elusive. Delicate but memorable and enduring, like the woman herself.
She was still breathing erratically, but she brushed her lips against his ear. “What do you have to say, Sergeant?”
“Girls are pretty. Girls are good.”
She snuffled against him, part chuckle, part sob. He cradled her face, holding them temple to cheek as they drew a different kind of strength from one another. “Damn it,” she said. “Life is just too hard sometimes. Poor Jai. His family. That stupid, awful, fucked-up kid. Damn it, damn it, damn it.”
“Yeah.” He was so steeped in her, his phone rang twice before he identified the muffled sound from his belt. “Hell, I didn’t log out. Let me get that.”
“It would have taken longer to log out than to do what we just did,” she said dryly. “You do get coffee or smoke breaks, right?”
“Smart-ass.” He gave her a pinch, but eased her down, made sure she was steady before he fastened his pants, zipped up and fished out the phone. “Keller.”
He scooped up her slacks and panties and offered them to her. Trying to be a gentleman to make up for the beast he’d been, though his beauty didn’t seem dissatisfied. Celeste gathered them to her with a faint smile, then hooked her thumb in the general vicinity of what he assumed was her bedroom and plucked at her shirt, stained from Marigold’s bloody hands clutching at her. He nodded and she disappeared that way.
“Keller, you there? I said, it’s Detective Allen.”
“Yeah, Toby, sorry. What’s up?”
“Are you still with Miss Lewis?”
“We just got to her house.” Leland donned the fresh shirt and tucked it in, then picked up his belt, buckled it back in place as he held the phone under his ear.
“Good. Just wanted to give you a heads up. We’ve still got some work to do, but the bullet track on your side of the street at the drive-by was high. At first we figured whoever was shooting just had lousy aim. But what didn’t make sense to me was them shooting out of both windows of the car. The opposite side of the street is mixed use, a few stores with apartments over them. No cops were over there, no one from the Reigning Kings or MoneyBoyz was hanging out. No reason to shoot in that direction at all. Then we noticed the shots on that side only hit where Miss Lewis was sitting. They dogged her escape path like a coonhound.”
Leland’s gut went cold. “If I hadn’t seen that,” Allen continued, “I would have assumed shooting at the two of you at the convenience store was incidental, but looking at what I’ve got so far, I think the initial shots at our crime scene were to pin us down. The shots at her—”
“She was their target. Son of a bitch. One of the shooters, she was in his face recently about the killing of that prostitute on Compton Court. Had her suspicions he was the doer.”
“It’s looking like he didn’t just do DeeDee. I work with Marquez, who’s running the Stiles case as well. She apparently made a connection to the same guy for that. He’s done some follow-up, and Earl Edward James has gone from a person of interest to our main suspect as of this afternoon. Maybe he didn’t realize she’d already shared that information with us.”
“I don’t think that matters to him.” Since his talk with Mike, Leland had pulled up Dogboy’s rap sheet and talked to a few others on his shift who had dealt with the teenager. “My guys say he’s probably a loose cannon with a looser screw. If he killed both of the women, he’s no Ted Bundy. Just a dumb, fucked-up kid who’s gotten himself hooked on killing and can’t stop himself. The question is, will the MoneyBoyz help him out with Celeste?”
“Hard to say. You know none of these groups are all that organized yet.”
Thank God, Leland thought. They caused enough trouble as loose affiliations. “But he might have a few friends willing to help him out. Like today.”
“Yeah. Until I find out more, she needs to be somewhere else for a few days. Out of town, preferably, and she shouldn’t be showing up at any of her regular haunts. Like her home. I’ve already sent a couple uniforms your way to flank the place.”
Leland glanced out the window to see them pulling up. They’d had enough units today, so Mike and Billy were driving separate cars, Billy looking like he’d been given the keys to his first Camaro. Stepping out on the porch, Leland acknowledged them with a wave so they knew all was good inside. “They’re here. Thanks, Toby.”
“You got it. Talk to her about getting out of town. Word is the two of you are dating.”
“The word does travel fast.”
“Nobody does gossip like cops,” Toby said dryly. “We all know she broke her unbreakable rule about dating cops for you. It’s probably asking a lot, but dig deep and summon up some charm. See if you can’t get her ass out of town. Lot of the guys are fond of it.”
“Tell them to keep their focus on her journalistic integrity and off her ass.” He injected humor into his voice, but it was forced, too many serious variables running through his mind.
“Yeah, like that will happen. Gotta go. Tell her to call if she remembers anything else.”
“Will do.” When he clicked off, Leland knew the reminder wouldn’t be necessary. Her trained mind was probably already running back over the details, trying to remember every scrap of useful information.
“Celeste?”
“Here.” She emerged from the back, wearing jeans and a clean, long sleeved shirt covered with a swirling gold-green version of Van Gogh’s The Starry Night. It picked up the colors in her eyes. She’d brushed her hair, the strands falling over her brow. The three studs in one ear winked brown and green. “Okay, I feel more like myself. Not really, but armor is everything, right? Protects all the squishy stuff inside. God.” She shook her head. “I sound like an idiot.”
“No, you don’t.” He came to her, took her hands, which were nervously fluttering. He wasn’t sure if the day’s events were understandably keeping her at loose ends, or if she was unsettled by what they’d just done, or some of both. In truth, the intensity of it had surprised him as well. He hoped her lack of balance would help him now, though.
“You need to pack a bag for several days.”
She looked up at him. As she did, she saw the additional units parked out front. Her brow furrowed. “Why are they here?” She put a hand up to her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Thank God they didn’t arrive ten minutes ago. That could have been awkward.”
She was experiencing the fluctuating emotions, both appropriate and inappropriate, that accompanied this kind of ordeal, but he couldn’t help but smile at her. It helped lessen the weight on his chest as well.
“Dogboy was after you, Celeste.”
She blinked, refocused on him. “What?”
“You were the target. They were firing at us just to keep us pinned down.”
He could have broken that news a little less harshly, but she’d want the truth, unembellished. Part of him also wanted to scare her, make it easier to protect her. Knowing her, that wasn’t going work for more than a heartbeat, but the cop in him was all about keeping her safe, no matter how much of a bastard he had to be about it.
She listened to what Alle
n had told him. “I agree. He’s about as clever and subtle as a punch in the face. So he’ll be picked up, go to prison and that will be that.”
“Yeah, once he’s picked up. He lives with a couple guys in a shithole about a mile from our crime scene. We might get lucky and he’ll go back there, but I think it more likely he’ll hole up in another shithole and keep moving around. It’s probably going to take a couple days for us to use our eyes on the street to figure out where he’s gone, and that’s if he doesn’t try to skip town.”
“True,” she said. It was both alarming and impressive that she didn’t react with fear, but her next words told him the reporter had taken over. “I’m not sure he will, though. He starts with a high-risk victim like Loretta Stiles, then kills a prostitute? And marks both crime scenes with the dog signature? I don’t think he’s interested in covering his tracks. More like challenging the world to gun him down, daring you to stop him.”
“Suicide by cop,” he confirmed. “So go pack a bag. Do you have someone you can stay with out of town for a few days?”
His first extremely strong impulse was to have her stay at his house, but being near her stomping ground was too much of a temptation. She could get bored when he was on shift and decide to go talk to just one source, or something foolish like that.
She shrugged. “There are always things I can do in New Orleans, but I really don’t think it’s necessary. Dogboy was looking for me at a crime scene he’d know I cover, not at my home. I don’t advertise where I live.”
“All he’d have to do is follow you home. Or have one of the MoneyBoyz do it.” He put his hands on her shoulders again. “If he has their support in this, you’re not looking at one person gunning for you. It could be the entire gang.”
That elicited a flicker of concern from her, but her brow creased. “I’m not seeing it. An unstable personality like his is going to be a liability. They’re not going to take out a target whose murder would expose their trade and suppliers to extra scrutiny. Jai’s death”—she hitched over the word but pressed on—”is already going to turn up the heat.”
“But you’ve written articles that take swipes at the Baton Rouge drug business. They might see settling Dogboy’s issue as a benefit for them, long term.”
“Swipes only,” she said frankly. “I was following some leads, but I hadn’t even dinged them yet. So right now, I’m not worth the effort.”
The idea of her following leads to the heart of the city’s illegal drug trade was enough to give him nightmares, but he set that aside for now, with effort. “Maybe not. But violent criminals aren’t always as reasonable and clear thinking as you’d expect.” He tightened his grip on her. “Celeste, I’m about a breath away from being a hard-ass about this, and I know that means you’ll get your hackles up and we’ll fight.” He touched her face. “I’m not in the mood for a fight. How about you?”
She held his gaze, then shook her head, took a deep breath. “No. So…the wedding’s Saturday anyway. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll pack a bag and go check into a hotel in New Orleans for a few days.” She shifted her gaze to the right of his shoulder. “Maybe you could join me at the hotel and we could spend a weekend there, go to the wedding together.”
“So if it’s your idea, us going to the wedding together is okay?”
“Of course.” She tossed her hair out of her eyes.
“Trying to hold on to control,” he noted. “You know that’s not going to work that often with me, right?”
He touched her chin with a curved finger, slid it down beneath and along her throat, making her eyes get that wary yet needy look that made him wish today had gone differently. That they both weren’t too wired up to slow it down, make those Dom/sub vibes come to full, pulsating life between them.
“And you think you being all macho and domineering will work with me?” she retorted.
“In a way, yeah.” He leaned down, feeling the pulse in her throat jump as he came closer. “Especially if I tell you I’m going to tan your hide for chasing after that car.”
“But you wouldn’t have the plate number if I hadn’t. You said…”
“Two different things, darlin’. I’m proud of you for being brave and doing such a fine job, just like I’ll get a kick out of busting your ass for risking it.”
She processed that, visibly struggling with whether he’d just paid her a compliment or insulted her. He almost had to bite back a grin at her expression. Yeah, she wanted that punishment now, but she was going to be spitting and clawing all the way, just to get back at him at the same time.
“Go pack a bag,” he said. “Now.”
She sniffed and pivoted, but he caught her arm, pulling her back to kiss her sneering mouth until it slackened and the claws she put into his forearm eased into a sensual bite. When he lifted his head, she was staring at him. As he stood still, she put her hand on his face, outlining his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth. Wariness had turned into that vague panic mixed with irritation he was beginning to recognize as her bratting cue. Or, given they had no time for that kind of interaction right now, the prelude to an actual fight. But he was betting she was where he was on it. It wasn’t a day for fighting.
“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “We’ll work it out, Celeste. It is what it is. Don’t question it today.”
She bent her head, which put her temple against his jaw. When his arms closed around her, she let out a little sigh. Her willingness to accept his comfort gave him an injection of strength he didn’t expect. She whispered something against his shirt he couldn’t decipher, so when she pushed away, he caught her fingers before she could head for her bedroom.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I called you a jerk.”
“No you didn’t.” He only had three of her fingers in his grasp, and those only at the last knuckle, but he saw her discomfiture when she couldn’t get him to let go. “Tell me, Celeste.”
Her gaze lifted at that, because he’d deliberately employed the tone he would have used with her in session. She pursed her lips, started to shift her gaze.
“No. Look at me when you answer me.”
That increased her discomfort. When he felt a tremor go through her, saw the sudden misery in her eyes, he relented. It wasn’t a time for pushing, so he set aside his Dom nature and let her go, though he gave her an even look that said they’d pick it up another time. Her hand slipped from his and she moved across her small living room toward the hallway, but when she reached it, she paused. Looking over her shoulder, she met his gaze. Her lips quivered, uncertain petals, her eyes too large for her slim face.
“‘Yes, sir.’ That’s what I said.”
Then she vanished like smoke.
To settle his own reaction to that, Leland went back out on the porch. He nodded to Mike, leaning on his car, talking to Billy, and both men gave him a brief acknowledgment in return. Leland took out his phone, dialed. The guy he was calling always answered his personal cell, an indication that the very small selection of people who had that number were those he’d consider a priority call. Not surprising, since Matt Kensington, the CEO of Kensington and Associates, was pretty particular about who he let into his inner circle.
“Leland.” The Yale-educated Texas drawl on the other end was filled with warmth. “Always a pleasure to hear from you. If you’re calling to tell me you can make it up here Friday night, Peter’s got a Kentucky bourbon with your name on it. You’re welcome to join our gathering to keep Ben from bolting.”
“I’ve met his fiancée. If he even thinks of bolting, shoot him between the eyes because he’s too stupid to live.”
“I wouldn’t dare deprive her of that pleasure. But she’ll let us hold him down for her to do it.”
“Marcie’s a Southern belle through and through.”
Matt chuckled. “What can I do for you?”
That was another thing he liked about Matt. The man knew Leland wasn’t much
on chitchat and wouldn’t be calling without purpose.
“You know Celeste Lewis.”
“Very well and with great fondness. I subscribe to her blog and follow her articles in the papers when she freelances. She’s a hell of a reporter.”
“Yeah, she is.” And he meant it. “She’s run into some trouble up here.”
Briefly, Leland explained the situation. Normally the details of an ongoing case weren’t discussed with a civilian without clearance, but he considered Matt and his four-man executive team trusted confidants.
“What can we do to help you protect her?” Matt’s tone had changed in a blink, now sharp and serious. “What do you need?”
“A safe place for her to go for a few days. I don’t know if he’s going to have gang support on this or not. They’re small time, but there’s always the chance they might have their own sources for hacking email accounts and tracking credit card use. I’d like her to stay somewhere where they won’t expect her to be and where she doesn’t have to have a paper trail.”
“Marcie’s back at Lucas and Cassandra’s this week. Something about the tradition of the groom not seeing the bride before the event, though I think there’s more to it than that, because Ben’s been broody as hell. Nothing the wedding won’t fix. Celeste could stay with them.”
Leland felt a twinge of conscience. “She said she and Marcie were friends, but I’m not sure how well.” He for damn sure was aware of how well she knew Ben. It was absurd to have any territorial growls over a one-night session she had with another Dom, but he knew that was exactly what had prompted him to strip the condom the other night and take her without it, marking her in a way as primal as the Neanderthal she’d accused him of being. He’d told Celeste she’d show him that video eventually, but it would be as tough for him to sit through it as it would be uncomfortable for her, for far different reasons.
Yeah, okay, he was a caveman. Whatever.
“When Celeste lived here, they used to spar at the gym together weekly,” Matt said. “They exchange birthday gifts and usually grab lunch when Celeste comes here for a story. So I’d say pretty tight. Celeste came up for one of the wedding showers a few weeks ago.” He paused. “What’s the likelihood this bastard would track her down and try to get at her in that kind of environment? That will tell me how to reinforce things there.”
Soul Rest: A Knights of the Board Room Novel Page 25