by Rita Herron
But Grady was different. He was strong. Tough but fair. Caring but driven. Dependable. Trustworthy.
And he needed her now almost as much as she needed him.
A guttural groan tore from his mouth as he pulled away. “Violet…I…should go.”
“No.” She shook her head. Liquid heat flared inside her belly as his eyes raked over her, possessive, needy.
She answered him with the same hunger. His hand slid to her back, jerking her against his body. It was hard. Powerful. Ready. Any resistance she might have had shattered like glass. They had both been through so much. But they could soothe each other in the darkness.
Violet wanted to do that while she could. Just in case they didn’t have a tomorrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GRADY ORDERED HIMSELF to walk away. To collect himself. He should be doing something more to solve the case.
But the federal agents were on it now, and there was nothing he could do until he got their reports. At the moment, he felt worthless. As if he were falling apart at the seams. As if being in Violet’s arms would hold him together.
At least, by being here, he could protect her.
Her lips parted in invitation, and a surge of wanton possessiveness overcame him. He tasted sweetness and innocence, and the undeniable yearning of a woman who knew how to give. Her unselfishness touched him. Her tenderness spiked the heat in his blood. Her quietly whispered hunger fueled the need that had become a desperate, incessant urge.
He had wanted her for so long. Ever since the moment he’d seen her in her father’s house that morning, wearing nothing but that flimsy, cotton nightshirt.
Telling himself it was all wrong had made no difference. Tonight wasn’t about wrong or right, but about soothing the ache that had been building in him for so long. The emptiness and hunger that he sensed Violet felt herself.
Blinded by his own selfish needs, he walked her backward to the sofa. He slid his hand into the tangled tresses of her long dark hair and wound them around his fingers. Seduced by her sultry femininity, he inhaled her own special scent. She felt small, fragile and needy, and he wanted to protect her as much as he wanted to throw her down and grind himself inside her.
She parted her lips, and he slipped his tongue inside, tasting, exploring, memorizing each tiny sound she made as his sex throbbed between them.
Her breath bathed his neck when he broke the kiss. He lowered his mouth to the nape of her neck and suckled the fragrant skin there. His hands moved over her shoulders, her breasts, her hips, down to pull her more snugly into the V of his thighs. She was softness against his hard planes, gentle against the fierce driving force of his raging desire.
“God, Violet, I’ve wanted you ever since I found you at your father’s house that first night.”
“I want you, too, Grady. Don’t let go.”
He smiled against her hair. The dam of frustration broke with her softly spoken plea, his resistance splintering. Intoxicated by the flame of desire in her eyes, he traced a path back up to her neck, lifted the straps of her top and slid them down her shoulders. His lips followed his fingers, the shell she wore falling to the floor around her feet. She kicked off her sandals, and he breathed in the earthy scent of her body as her breasts spilled over the lacy bra.
While her clothes were simple and conservative, her undergarments were daring, hinting that beneath all that gentle calmness and strength lay a passionate woman. One who had been deprived of loving. And she was only a breath away from him now.
“You’re so beautiful.”
A shy smile spread on her lips. “Grady, I’m not.”
“Not ready?” He raised a brow, the heat enveloping them.
She blushed. “No, it’s not that. I’m…not very experienced,” she whispered.
Her throaty admission only heightened his desire, making his resolve to pleasure her more intense. “Baby, just tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”
“I can’t imagine not liking anything you’d do, Grady.”
“God, Violet.” He dropped his head against hers, amazed at her confession. He had always been reluctant to get involved, afraid he didn’t have enough to give.
He wanted to give Violet everything within his capacity. Whether or not it was enough, he didn’t know. But he’d damn sure die trying.
His heart pounding, he unfastened the button and zipper of her skirt, then watched it fall to the floor, as well. A pair of pale blue lace panties hugged her heat and accentuated the delicate flare of her hips. He breathed in the sight of her, his erection straining inside his jeans. She glanced down and noticed. A purely feminine smile spread on her mouth. Then she reached out and tentatively touched the bulge. He groaned, his sex jumping. Murmuring his name, she cupped his face again, kissing him with the fervor of a wanton lover.
Grady forgot restraint and slowness. There would be time for that later. All he knew was this urgent need to brand her as his. To stamp himself all over her and let her assuage his pain, banish this dreadful feeling of loneliness.
He shucked off his shirt, his nipples stiffening as her hands raked over the coarse hair on his chest. Then she was in his arms. Against him. Close. But not close enough.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, lowering his head to taste her there. Then he stripped off her bra and panties and planted kisses all over her body. She moaned and writhed as he eased her onto the sofa, then crawled between her thighs.
Brushing himself over her femininity, he watched her face twist with excitement, saw her eyes glaze with passion as he lowered his head and drew her nipple into his mouth. He tasted, explored, suckled until she bucked and clawed at him. He thrust his sex against her heat, loving her other breast the same way, then fingered her nipples as he kissed her belly and rolled his tongue along her inner thighs.
“Grady?”
“Shh, let me have all of you, Violet.” Aching to be closer, he slid his hands under her hips, brought her to his mouth, drinking in her sweetness as his tongue savored her moistness. She shivered, gripping his arms, moaning wildly. He couldn’t release her. Instead he made her a prisoner to his desires as he sated himself with her taste. Finally, her body bucked, the sensations gripping her eliciting an inferno of need in him. Taking her pleasure as his own, he kicked off his jeans and underwear, slipped on a condom and rose above her. He thrust himself inside her with a low throaty moan.
She hugged him tighter, her hot sheath enveloping him, her innocence humbling. He slowed, not wanting to hurt her. But she gripped him and urged him to move faster, deeper. His resistance fled. He buried himself inside her, filling her until their bodies were one, until sensations overpowered him.
As his own release exploded, he dropped his head into her neck and called out her name, claiming her innocence as his, forever.
* * *
“I DON’T WANT TONIGHT to end,” Violet whispered.
Grady braced himself on his hands above her. “Neither do I.” His dark gaze skated over her, searching. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She wet her lips and smiled. “Do I look like I’m in pain?”
He shook his head, a damp strand of hair curling on his forehead. “You look like a woman who’s just been loved.”
A giggle escaped her as she brushed the strand of hair into place. “I think I could be in love with you, Grady.” In fact, she always had loved Grady, she realized. The reason she’d never let another man take her to bed. She had been waiting for him.
He froze, studied her face. His mouth twitched as if to smile, but his eyes were dark with turmoil. The last thing she wanted to do right now was pressure Grady.
“I—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “You don’t have to say anything. Just love me again, Grady. And this time I want to pleasure you,” she whispered.
Grady nuzzled her neck again. “Oh, baby, don’t you realize you did? I enjoyed every minute.” His voice grew low, throaty. “But I’ve never been goo
d with words. I…I don’t know what I can offer, Violet.”
“I’m not asking for promises, Grady.” His sex surged toward her, though, proving he wanted her again. She rubbed her belly against him. “I just want tonight. To be in your arms. For you to hold me so I can love you.” When the case was over, she’d return to Savannah. And he’d stay here, go on with his life.
Regret warred with desire in his eyes, but she traced her fingers down his length, teasing the tip of his erection. Sensing the power she had, she began to stroke him, her own body growing moist at the passion enflaming his eyes. He groaned and pushed himself into her hand, lowering his head to take her nipple between his teeth. When he tugged it into his mouth, sensations flooded her. “Oh, Grady.”
He flipped her over so she sat astride him, and he thrust inside her. Violet could never have imagined acting with such abandonment. But the minute he cupped her breasts in his hands and stroked her flesh with his torturous fingers, she came apart. She didn’t need experience. She only needed to act on her own primal instincts.
And to be with Grady.
* * *
GRADY HAD ALMOST FALLEN asleep on the couch with Violet cradled in his arms when someone started pounding on the door. He was disoriented and groggy, for the first time in weeks, maybe years, feeling sated, comfortable and warm. So warm and happy that he didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to deal with whatever god-awful police business he’d have to handle today. He didn’t want to remember the reasons he’d come here…he only wanted the bliss of lying in Violet’s arms.
The knock sounded louder.
Damn. It might be something important. After all, Violet had said earlier that she’d had another vision.
She jerked upright, her bare breasts swaying in the dim light.
The knocking came again.
“Dammit.” He reached for his jeans. “I’m coming!” He shrugged them on, then grabbed his shirt, but the bone whistle he’d taken from his father fell from his pocket onto the floor.
Violet gasped.
He turned to her, ready to explain. But the horror in her eyes stopped him cold. And the accusations… She was looking at him with fear in her eyes, as if she thought he might be the Bone Whistler.
Violet scrambled off the couch, reaching for the faded afghan and wrapping it around her. “Grady?”
He picked up the whistle. “It’s not what you think,” he said, realizing he’d used the exact wording his father had just before he’d delivered his lies.
The pounding intensified and Logan yelled Grady’s name, just as he yanked open the door.
Special Agent Norton stood on the stoop, along with Logan.
“What the hell are you doing?” Grady asked.
Both men glanced at his state of undress, then past him to Violet. Grady couldn’t deny the obvious.
“We’ve arrested your father on suspicion of murder,” Norton said. “I thought I’d give you the courtesy of telling you myself. I didn’t realize you were busy….”
Grady bit his tongue. How could he explain taking Violet to bed? He’d needed her. He glanced at her pale face and saw the wheels of doubt turning in her head. She thought he’d used her, that his father was guilty and he’d covered it up. After all, Walt Monroe had threatened her. He might have been responsible for the vandalism on her house. Her accident. The fire…
Grady broke out in a sweat. “Why did you arrest my father? Do you have new evidence?”
Agent Norton nodded. “Your father and Jed Baker had a fight the night before Baker died, a detail you neglected to tell us. And we also learned your father had a bone whistle similar to the one found at the crime scenes.”
Norton’s gaze fell to the item in Grady’s hand, his flat look indicating his conclusion. He suspected the same as Violet—that Grady was covering for his dad.
“We also know that he lied about his whereabouts the night your sister was murdered. He has no alibis for the nights any of the women were killed. And we found DNA placing him in Kerry Cantrell’s room.”
“His DNA?”
“Yes, it was on file from when your sister was missing.”
Shit.
“There’s more,” Logan said in a harsh tone. “The reporter who ran the story yesterday was found dead at the edge of your father’s estate.”
Grady hissed, cursing beneath his breath as he zipped his jeans. “I’ll be right there.” He cleared his throat. “Can you give me a minute?”
Agent Norton offered a clipped nod and spun on his heel toward the door. Logan was watching with an odd look, as if he resented his boss bedding a possible witness. Hell, Grady had known better, too. He just hadn’t been able to stop himself.
Or maybe Logan had wanted Violet for himself. Well, he damn sure wouldn’t have her.
As soon as the door closed, Grady turned to Violet. “Let me explain.”
“Did your father have that bone whistle?”
He refused to lie to her. There had been too many secrets already. “Yes, he took it from the crime scene and kept it. I…I didn’t know he had it, not until last night, when I went by his house.”
“You knew he might have killed Darlene and my father and all those other women. And he threatened me.” Yet you were ready to cover for him.
He heard the hurt and pain in her voice and reached for her, but she pushed his hand away, wrapping the afghan tighter around her shoulders—those shoulders he had kissed and caressed moments earlier. “No, Grady. I understand, I really do. Even though he lied to you, you’re loyal to your father.” A wealth of sadness laced her voice. “I guess I can’t blame you.”
“It’s not like that, Violet. I still want to find the truth.”
Her look of distrust tore at him. He did want to find the truth, didn’t he? But after knowing his father had lied about his mother, could he believe anything the man said?
Agent Norton banged on the door. “We’re leaving.”
“Stay here,” Grady told Violet. “After we meet, I’ll send Logan back to be with you until I can return.”
Hurt and confused, Violet simply stared at him as he gathered the necklace and wrapping paper, then walked out the door.
* * *
THE BITTER TASTE of distrust filled Violet’s mouth as Grady left. Their earlier lovemaking seemed shameful now.
Had Grady suspected his father all along? Had he played up to her to see how much she knew? Earlier, he’d suggested she had repressed memories. Had he woven his way into her life, encouraged her trust, to make sure she didn’t remember?
A silent war waged within her.
She’d thought she was in love with Grady. Would he be so vile as to deceive her?
No…she didn’t believe it.
Your own father sent you away. Why would Grady love you?
Trembling, she paced the room. Even if Mr. Monroe was guilty and Grady hadn’t known about his father’s involvement, would he defend him? Let his feelings for his dad come between them? After all, he’d slept with her without telling her the truth.
It was only one night, Violet reminded herself. Grady hadn’t made any promises.
The telephone rang, jarring her from her troubled emotions. She stared at it for a moment, wondering if it was the killer. Wondering why she hadn’t had another vision tonight. Where was he holding the woman?
The phone trilled again, and she stumbled forward and grabbed it. “Hello.”
“Miss Baker, this is Dr. Sternum at the rehab facility. It’s about your grandmother.”
Violet swayed dizzily. “What? Is she okay?”
“Yes, but she’s asking for you now. She’s agitated and disoriented. It might help if you’d come by.”
Guilt suffused Violet. She’d promised she’d visit, but she’d gotten so tied up in solving these murders, in alleviating her own guilt, in Grady, that she had neglected her grandmother. The only person who had ever really loved her.
“I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone and ran
to the bathroom to clean up. She had to wash off the scent of Grady’s lovemaking so she could forget him. If Grady’s father was the killer, and in jail, maybe these visions would stop and she could go back to Savannah tomorrow.
Remembering Grady’s promise to send his deputy back to guard her, she decided to forgo a shower. She didn’t trust Deputy Logan. He’d been at the mental hospital the day she’d been attacked and nearly died. What if he had knocked her unconscious and set the fire? As a deputy, he could easily approach women without frightening them. Even Grady trusted him.
But Violet’s instincts warned her to be wary of him. It was eerie the way he always kept his eyes hidden behind those Ray-Bans. Death and darkness surrounded him. And there was something else…something she couldn’t pinpoint.
There was no way she’d get in the car with him or ask him to take her to the rehab facility.
* * *
SHE WAS ALONE. And she was coming to see her grandmother.
Perfect. Ross Wheeler had known Violet Baker would run to granny if she thought her grandmother needed her. And he had done a good job of impersonating a doctor. He was right proud of himself.
He bowed his head and said a prayer, asking forgiveness for what he was about to do. But he had to do it for his father. Violet Baker had stirred up too much trouble in town. She had to be dealt with now.
He knew exactly where he was going to take her, too. Yes, Violet had messed up his life with her stupid psychic visions, just like that idiotic reporter had with his lies. Morris was gone now, but Violet…she could expose his secret if she saw into his mind. Or into his lover’s. That worried him most.
He couldn’t let it happen. Not now, when his father thought he had the obedient son he wanted. And when he had finally found the love of his life.
* * *
VIOLET SHOVED THE CAR in gear, backed from the driveway and headed out of town. Heavy clouds rumbled with thunder, threatening another summer storm and adding to the blackness of the night. These country roads needed better markings. She could barely discern the white lines in the middle as she rounded the corner near Flatbelly Hollow.