Fever
Page 24
Teague closed his eyes and rubbed his head. “That’s not what it said on my appeal denial.”
“I looked into that, too. It was signed by a judge who retired immediately after and left for parts unknown.”
“None of this means anything to me now.”
“It should,” Mitch said. “Because I’m calling to offer you a deal.”
Teague’s eyes came open, his vision blurred over the desktop. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m not looking for any fucking deal. I don’t need any fucking deal. I don’t want any fucking deal. In fact, you don’t have a goddamned thing I do want.” Except the most beautiful sister on earth. “So you’ve wasted your time.”
“There’s something big going on here, Creek. Big and deep and ugly. I happen to prefer these types of cases. The bigger, the deeper, the uglier, the better. And because this particularly nasty case involves my sister, I’m offering you representation. I will take on your case at no expense. All you have to do is let Alyssa go, safe and sound.”
Let Alyssa go. The words twisted inside him like a knife. He knew he had to let Alyssa go, but not in the same way Mitch meant. He also knew, after tonight, he’d never be ready to let her go.
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Creek,” Mitch said as Teague started to remove the phone from his ear. “Couple more things. One, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re guilty of Desiree’s murder. And I’ll prove it. But, if you’re involved in any way, shape or form with this mess, I’ll prove that, too.”
“Reassuring.” Teague switched the phone to the opposite hand again, grimacing at the metal and wires now showing through holes in the plastic casing.
“And two,” Mitch said, “there is an ex-San Francisco homicide detective and two ex-members of the San Francisco S.W.A.T. team sitting outside the cabin at Fallen Leaf Lake. You have until eight a.m. to release Alyssa. If you don’t, they will arrest you, using deadly force as necessary.”
An icy trickle slid down Teague’s back. He automatically scanned the living room windows, still covered by the shutters.
“Just so we’re clear,” Mitch said. “If that happens, all offers are rescinded. Of course, that is if you’re not already dead.”
EIGHTEEN
The cool sheets on the mattress next to her pulled Alyssa fully awake. She opened her eyes and scanned the bed. Then the room. And found both empty.
Her heart picked up speed as she propped herself on her elbows. That’s when she heard it—the sound of running water. The shower.
“Jesus,” she breathed and fell back against the pillow, her arm over her eyes. She hated the way fear crept into her heart whenever she didn’t know his exact location. Worrying was not her thing. She didn’t do it well. She didn’t like the way it felt. She’d never wanted to be that caught up in someone. But, here she was.
Restless for the sight of him, for the feel of him, she tossed back the covers and stood. A groan escaped her throat as she took her first few steps toward the bathroom. He had worked her over in the most delicious, erotic ways and Alyssa smiled at the memories.
The bathroom door stood ajar. She pressed the flat of her hand to the wood and stepped in, closing it quickly to keep the warm, humid air in the small room. Teague’s silhouette stood beneath the spray, head bent, one hand pressed against the tile.
Already naked, Alyssa pushed the curtain aside just enough to slip in behind him. She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his torso from behind. Before she could lay her cheek to his back, Teague whipped around. One arm slashed across her throat, the other shoved her against the shower wall. The force of the thrust snapped her head on the tile. Pain exploded beneath her skull. She cried out.
When she opened her eyes, she found Teague staring at her with an expression she could only describe as menacing. His eyes were dark and flat and glazed, filled with violence.
“Teague.” She gripped his forearm, and tried to pry it off her throat. “Stop.”
His eyes cleared, but he didn’t release the pressure. Water sizzled as it hit his skin, evaporated and filled the shower like a steam bath. Heat seared through her neck where his arm nearly cut off her air supply.
“Teague,” she tried again, “you’re hurting me.”
The hostility in his eyes shifted to fear, then to a sick regret as he fully focused. “Oh, my God.” Teague instantly released her, hands up, palms out. “Oh, my God. Lys. I’m sorry.” In the next instant, he swept her up in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t immediately return the embrace, still stunned and confused.
“I—I—” he stuttered. “Oh, my God.” He pressed his face to her neck and let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a growl. “I didn’t think. I just reacted. I thought—I thought—” He shook his head and buried his face deeper. “Fuck.”
His turmoil churned her own gut. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, ran her hands over the smooth course of his new hair growth. “Okay. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“It’s not okay.” He let her go as quickly as he’d pull her close and turned away. He slammed both fists against the shower tile, knuckles first. “It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay.”
Alyssa jumped at the outburst, then cringed. She reached past him, grabbed his wrists and pulled him around to face her again. “Stop. You’re going to break your fingers.” He hung his head, closed his eyes, shoulders slumped with what looked like a lifetime of guilt.
“What did you think?” Alyssa asked, running her lips over his bleeding knuckles.
He shook his head. The water dripped off his perfectly straight nose. “I didn’t think. It’s just, in prison, the showers ... It’s the place where you’re most vulnerable. It’s where ... Guys, you know ...” His expression compressed in pained memory. “Goddamn, I wish I could get that shit out of my mind.”
She stepped closer to him, and again wrapped her arms around his waist. Hardening herself, preparing herself for the answer to her next question. “Did that happen to you?”
“No! God, no. But, I couldn’t take a fucking shower without seeing it. Hearing it.” That disgusted, pained sound came from his throat again. “Goddamned sick sonsofbitches.”
Relief swamped her stomach and pushed tears to her eyes. She wrapped her hands around his wrists and gently pulled them away from his face. “Look at me, Teague.”
His eyes opened and focused, filled with pain. But it was the edge of hopelessness that worried her the most. “Let’s make new memories. We’ll wipe out the bad memories with good ones.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her body fully against his and pushed up on her toes to kiss his mouth. Their lips slid together effortlessly. Teague sighed, tightened his arms around her and took the kiss deeper. His tongue circled hers and Alyssa tasted that same desperation she’d sensed in the Jeep. The same need he’d shown her in bed.
She kissed her way down his chest, low on his belly. Just when she was about to take him into her mouth, he pushed back.
“No. Don’t.”
Alyssa looked up to find his face twisted with torment, a mixture of dreams he wanted to realize and nightmares he wanted to banish.
“I’m sorry, Lys.” He pulled her to her feet. “I can’t do this.”
He tore the curtain aside, got out and slid it closed again. He grabbed his gym shorts on his way out the door. Alyssa stood beneath the steaming water confused. She wanted to help him so badly, but her impatience had once again gotten the best of her. She’d pushed him too hard, too soon.
She took several minutes to tip herself back into emotional balance, get her thoughts straightened out, and push the hurt away. When she came out of the bathroom, she peered down the hall and saw the bright glow of the fire.
A pinch of fear tore at her stomach. If he found out she’d faxed Mitch that information ... It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to know, just that she didn’t want him to know now, in this frame of mind.
She touched his shoulder to let him know she was there. No more surprising him, that was for sure. He tensed. When she was sure he wasn’t going to go haywire, she slid both arms around his shoulders, crossed them over his chest and kissed his neck from behind. “I’m sorry I startled you.”
“I’m sorry I’m so fu—Screwed up.”
She rested her chin on his shoulder and looked at the photos in his hands. The top one was a close-up of Kat, wearing a flowered bikini, soaked head to toe, with blurred sprinklers in the background.
“She’s got your eyes,” Alyssa said.
Teague chuckled, the sound filled with absurdity. “They’re brown.”
“They’re your shape. She’s got your mouth, too.” Alyssa kissed his cheek. “She’s beautiful, and she’s lucky she has a father who loves her so much.”
“Doesn’t seem so lucky to me,” Teague grumbled in disagreement. “I just keep hurting the people I love.”
Alyssa’s heart stuttered. Had he just told her—albeit in a roundabout, convoluted way—that he loved her? She shook the possibility away and reached over his shoulder to pull out the group picture she’d looked at earlier.
“Tell me about this photo,” she said.
“What about it? That’s Desiree, Seth. You already know Kat and Tara.”
“Desiree looks pretty chummy with Kat there. Were they close?”
“Oh, no. In fact, that was the first time I’d introduced her to Kat.” He shrugged. “Desiree wasn’t all that comfortable around kids, but Kat’s such a dream. She’s so easygoing, fun, social.”
“When did you ask Seth and Tara to be Kat’s guardians? Was it during the trial?”
“No.” Teague set the pictures on his lap and laid his head back against the sofa. One hand came up and caressed Alyssa’s arm. “After Suzanna died. In case something happened to me.”
“Which was how long before Desiree died?”
“Two years.” He looked up at her. “Why?”
She shook her head. “Just playing with numbers. Did you date anyone before Desiree?”
“No. Kat was just a baby, and I was trying to work these crazy shifts. Besides, Suzanna’s suicide really dragged me under. I couldn’t even think about anyone else. The guilt was horrendous. If it wasn’t for Kat ...” He shook his head. “It was a rough couple years.”
Alyssa pulled another photo of Kat as a toddler from the bottom of the pile and set it on top. “Looks like you did a damn good job, Daddy.”
Teague let out a heavy sigh. He set the photos down on the coffee table, took hold of both of Alyssa’s hands and looped her around the sofa. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his lap. Both hands came up to frame her face. He looked directly into her eyes as if he was trying to communicate something. Alyssa saw sadness and regret and affection. She also recognized smoldering passion.
She turned her head and kissed his palm. He lifted her face to bring her mouth to his. The kiss was slow, tender, meaningful. Something uncomfortable niggled in her chest. He couldn’t be closer, yet she felt as if he were pulling away.
Alyssa intensified the kiss, demanding more, giving more. Teague groaned into her mouth, shifted with her until they lay on their sides. His bottom arm curved beneath her neck, his hand on the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, as he seemed to prefer them. His other hand settled on her thigh, slid under the hem of the T-shirt and caressed her butt. Squeezed and pulled her into his erection buffered by the cotton shorts.
“Mmm,” she murmured against his mouth. “I want you more every time. I can’t get enough.”
His hand swept up her back, around her side, and cupped her breast. “I love the way you look.” He kissed her long and deep and slow, his hand caressing, teasing. “I love the way you kiss.” His thigh slid higher, pressing between her legs. She arched into the pressure, rubbing against him. “I love the way you touch me.”
She smiled, trailed kisses over his jaw and down his neck. With a nudge, she pushed his shorts over his hips and wiggled them off his legs with her feet.
Teague pulled her earlobe between his teeth and nipped gently. “I love your passion.” He continued kissing his way down her neck. “I love your commitment. Your determination. Your courage.” His mouth moved over her shoulder. “I love your intelligence. Your compassion.”
He shifted her onto her back, worked his hips between her thighs. With every word, every kiss, every touch, Alyssa’s heart picked up its pace.
He slid lower and kissed his way to her right breast. “I especially love your forgiveness. And your faith. There’s so much to love.” He took her nipple between his teeth, then entirely into his mouth.
“Teague,” was all she could manage to drum up from her flooded brain.
He kissed his way back up her body. His hands slid beneath her butt and lifted. He entered her slowly, deeply.
“Teague ...” Tears clogged her throat. She was so confused. She felt as if he were telling her he loved her in one breath, yet saying goodbye in another.
“Shhh.” He kissed her. “Don’t say anything, Lys. Just feel.”
Alyssa woke with a subtle sense of panic that had become familiar. Teague wasn’t lying beside her in bed, where they’d migrated after making love on the sofa. The house was silent, but it was the drop in temperature that worried Alyssa most. It meant Teague hadn’t stoked the fire. And if he wasn’t in bed with her and he hadn’t tended the fire ...
She dragged the blanket around her shoulders and rose, ignoring the aches and pains—both good and bad—tugging all over her body. Something jingled and hit the floor with a thud. Alyssa looked down. A roll of money and two sets of keys had landed by her bare feet.
“What the... ?”
Fury and fear rose in tandem. She hurried through the house, casting a quick look in each room to assure herself Teague wasn’t holed up in some corner doing research.
When she reached the living room, her fears were confirmed. The fire wasn’t just smoldering. It was out. Which meant Teague had been gone for hours.
With betrayal and hurt seething through her heart, Alyssa returned to the bedroom and pulled on the clothes she’d already worn two days in a row. She couldn’t think. She had to move. Had to do something. Like find that jerk and ream the crap out of him. Then figure out why.
“What the hell kind of man does that?” she growled as she tightened the belt on her jeans. “Teague, you ass.”
She pulled on her sweater, dug her feet into her clogs and scooped up the money and keys from the floor.
An explosion of sound came from the living room—the crack of wood, a loud boom. Alyssa jumped. The contents in her hands hit the floor.
“Freeze, police!” The words echoed from several different voices. “Hands up! Police!” Then a domino chorus of: “Clear. Clear. Clear.”
A man turned into the bedroom and swept some type of rifle in Alyssa’s direction. He wore all-black, military-style gear, helmet to boots. “Freeze.”
Uh, yeah. Already there. Her entire body was stiff with terror. Alyssa couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.
“Foster!” the man yelled. “In here.”
A wave of confusion made Alyssa dizzy. Then Mitch stepped into the room. Mitch. Her brother. Also decked out in a black jumpsuit. Also carrying a weapon. Teague—gone. Mitch—here. What the hell was going on?
“Jesus Christ, Alyssa.” In two steps, Mitch reached her, swept her up into his arms in a fierce hug. The equipment at his waist jammed into her side. Pain twisted through her belly. She cried out.
> Mitch immediately put her down. “You’re hurt?” He started pulling at her clothes. Before she could stop him, he’d lifted her shirt. “That fucking sonofabitch.” He dropped the fabric. “Where is he? I’m gonna kill him.”
Overwhelmed with physical and emotional pain, all she could do was press a hand to her side and shake her head.
“Find him.” Mitch directed the other man with a sweep of his hand.
“Search the perimeter.” The other man’s authoritative voice came muffled from the hallway, followed by the creak of leather, the clink of metal and the rustle of canvas as their boots clomped down the front steps.
Mitch put an arm around Alyssa’s shoulders and turned her toward the bed. “Come over here. Sit down.”
He dropped to a crouch in front of her, lifted her head with one hand on her jaw, swept the hair away from her cheek. Looking into his familiar face was so reassuring, yet not. The only hint of their Japanese ancestry was evident in his high cheekbones and too-long, jet-black hair. His eyes, the same color as hers, sparked bright green with intensity. In the safety of his presence, she broke.
“Mitch.” She sobbed his name and fell forward, into his arms.
“Okay, Lys.” He held her gently this time. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. Teague’s words filled her head. Words she wanted to scream at her brother now.
“Where else are you hurt?” Mitch’s gaze traveled over her, his hands sweeping down her limbs. “What else did he do to you?”
“He didn’t do this. He didn’t hurt me.”
Her brother pulled away. His skeptical eyes met hers. “He’s gone. Don’t protect him, Lys.”
“He protected me. If it hadn’t been for him, I’d be dead.” She gestured to her abdomen. “This is Taz’s fault. He provoked a fight with a gang and Teague couldn’t get me out of the way fast enough. He’s the one who stitched me up. He’s a—”
“Paramedic. Was a paramedic. I know all about him. And he shouldn’t have had you there in the first place.”