“Will.” She said his name on a wisp of a breath, all her feelings and energy focused on the intensity of attention he paid to her chest. Only Will could turn her on so quickly, make her abandon all thought of patience and drawn-out lovemaking. She wanted him all, right now, and later. “God, Will.”
She used all her muscles to push him off and over, rolling on top of him, moving her pelvis into his hard erection. She sat on him, his hands on her butt, squeezing, massaging her, as her hands rubbed his hard chest, trying and failing to slow her racing heart. Will’s heart raced with her, she felt it under his skin, thump thump thump, pounding against her hand. She kissed it, drawing his nipple into her mouth and biting lightly until he groaned. His hands fumbled with her jeans and she moved to the other nipple, not being gentle anymore, his rough hands pushing down her jeans, kneading her, pulling her toward him before she could pull the jeans off. They tangled around her ankles.
“I need you, Will. Right now. Take me away. Like the first time. Like the last time.”
Will rolled back on top, unmindful that they had moved halfway across the living room in their urgency. He jerked off Robin’s jeans, her long dancer’s legs smooth and soft under his hands. She was the most beautiful woman in the world with the finest body. He remembered every inch of her peaches and cream skin, the light covering of freckles on her shoulders, the mole on the inside of her left thigh. He kissed it and she spread her legs, writhing beneath him, needing him as much as he craved her.
“I’ve missed you, Robin.” He kissed the inside of her right thigh, then licked all the way to her lush, round breasts, red from his earlier assault. She held his head to them and he took each into his mouth in turn. Her hands found his erect cock and he groaned as she squeezed.
“Now,” she said. “I’m serious.”
Without giving him time to position himself, she rolled him again. He loved how physical Robin was, how hard she pushed him, how hard she pushed herself. She straddled him and in one thrust slid onto him, hot and wet and ready.
She gasped, and he felt her tightness.
“Robin,” he began, then she moved her hips and he couldn’t speak.
He pulled her to him, chest to chest, to kiss her, their tongues mimicking their lovemaking. Fast and frantic, in and out, no waiting to catch a breath. Their desire and urgency created a thick layer of sweat, bodies hot and slick, sliding together, a perfect fit.
Will rolled her back and they slammed against the couch. Her strong legs wrapped around his waist, giving him deeper access. She gasped beneath him, the slender muscles straining in her neck as her orgasm bubbled to the surface.
One look at Robin’s face and he couldn’t hold back. He pushed into her and released, feeling her muscles tighten around him as they came together. He collapsed onto her, kissing her neck, her ears, tasting the salty slickness of her skin.
Before she could pull away, Will gathered her into his arms, picked her up, and carried her to bed.
“Now we’re going to do this right,” he said.
“That was pretty all right to me,” Robin said, kissing him.
“Slower, Robin. I’m going to kiss every inch of your flesh. I’m going to taste every part of your body.” He stared into her eyes, greener and darker in their lust. “I’m hungry for you, Robin. I’ve been starving for you for seven years.”
Before she could protest, or argue, or remember why she’d been angry with him—rightful or not—his lips found hers.
Will kissed her with the intimacy of a lifelong lover, slow, exquisite, full of passion and love. Robin melted into his body as if they were one body, one soul. And in their exploration, past transgressions washed away.
TWENTY-FIVE
Will hated leaving Robin while she slept, but she was resting so peacefully he didn’t want to wake her. He left her a note and slipped out at seven, found one of Mario’s men outside the door, and made sure security knew he would return at ten but not to leave Robin alone.
He phoned Trinity on his way to her place.
“It’s seven in the morning,” she moaned.
“Seven thirteen.”
“I worked the late news. And I was up until three going over the transcripts.”
“I’ll bring Starbucks. I need to talk to you, Trinity. It’s important.”
She instantly sounded awake. “What happened? Did Theodore Glenn kill again? I can meet you at the station—”
“I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes. Don’t leave.”
“What—”
He hung up. She’d ask him a million questions he didn’t want to answer yet. He’d just as soon talk to her in person.
On his way over he called Jim Gage on his cell phone. He was already on his way to the lab. “Jim, can you meet with Agent Vigo and me this morning at ten at Robin McKenna’s loft?”
“I don’t have anything new,” he said. “I faxed my report on the Sturgeon crime scene last night. The autopsy is scheduled for this morning—”
“Carina can cover it. I need to talk to you.”
“Why not my office? It’s private.”
“I don’t want anyone in the lab hearing about this.”
Jim didn’t say anything.
“Jim?”
“You want me to keep our meeting off-the-record?”
“You could say that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to say over the phone.”
“Is this about the Glenn case?”
This was harder than Will thought. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“It’s about the Anna Clark case. Some new evidence has come to light. Bring the files, but don’t tell anyone. No one, even if you trust them with your life.”
“I don’t like the sound of this. It sounds like my department is being investigated. And the Feds are involved?”
“Just one. You can trust him. Please, Jim. Trust me this once.”
“Ten? I’ll be there.”
“Alone.”
“Alone.”
Will brought Trinity her favorite Starbucks coffee, a triple grande mocha with whipped cream.
She’d already showered and dressed, her blonde hair still wet, combed straight back. She took the drink. “You remembered.” She sipped. “Whipped cream. I gave it up last year.”
Will said, “I’m sorry.”
“Well, when my jeans started getting a little tight I had to cut corners.”
“You are as beautiful as ever.”
“This is scrumptious. I can splurge every now and then.” She smiled brightly, though her sharp eyes held a hint of suspicion. “So why are you trying to bribe me?”
“Sit down.”
“Doesn’t sound good.” She sat on her white sofa. “Give it to me straight, Hooper.”
“Always.”
She raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.
“I want you to run with the report that Theodore Glenn visited you the other night. Complete with his denial of murdering Anna Clark.”
“Why now?”
“Because you’re going to interview me at the station about it, and I’m going to emphatically state that the FBI has reviewed the evidence and concurs with the original report.”
“What? You took me seriously? You reopened the case? When did the Feds—”
He put up his hand. “I’m going to tell you something completely off-the-record, Trinity. Because I like you and I don’t want to deceive you. Glenn didn’t kill Anna.”
She blinked, momentarily confused. But Trinity was a smart woman, and she pieced it together quickly. “You want me to fabricate news?”
“No, I simply want you to report what I officially say. I have the Feds with me on this. I can bring out one of the top FBI profilers, have him say whatever is necessary.”
“I don’t understand.”
He could practically see her mind working double-time trying to figure it out. “We have new evidence suggesting Glenn didn’t kill Anna. The FBI a
grees.”
“So why’s he going to lie?”
“Because if Anna’s killer thinks that we’re looking into the investigation, everyone involved is in danger. We also have a convicted murderer on the loose. He’s killed three people since his escape. And something we’ve kept out of the press—so you can’t report on this—Glenn broke into Julia Chandler’s house on the cliffs and left a package. If she were there, he’d have killed her, too, as well as her niece who lives with her.”
“But Connor Kincaid took her out of town.”
“Yes, they are not just out of town, but out of the state. So we’re talking high stakes here—Glenn is not going to stop. And he has help.”
“Help?” She perked up.
“I’m not going to say anything more about that because it may jeopardize her life.”
“Her?”
“Trinity—listen. We don’t know exactly who is helping Glenn, but we have a list of women he regularly communicated with while in prison. We’re all over them right now. But I can’t say anything more about that.”
“All right, all right. Off-the-record, I get that. But I don’t like being used, Will. You have to give me something. I can’t report a lie.”
“You don’t have to. I’m telling you all this because you can say no. If you do what we want, Theodore Glenn may think that you didn’t work hard enough to convince us, or you aren’t looking at the evidence yourself. It could put you at risk.”
“You have a patrol outside—”
“Yes, and I’m going to suggest that you leave town after the report. Temporarily.”
“No. No, this is the biggest story of the year. I’m not going to run—”
“Is the story worth your life?”
“Yes.”
Will stared at her. That was the last answer he expected. “Trinity—”
“I’m not going to be stupid. I understand what you want. You want to deflect attention away from the Anna Clark investigation so you have time to look into the case and see who planted the evidence that led to Glenn’s conviction. At the same time, you don’t want Glenn to think that I’m dismissing his claims. I can do that, Will. I’m trusting you. Will you trust me?”
He hesitated, worried about Trinity’s safety. “Okay.” But he didn’t feel good about it. He couldn’t very well force her to leave town. He could, however, keep a patrol officer on her 24/7.
She sighed. “So when do we do this?”
“How about the noon news?”
“I can’t get it taped that fast—unless you go down to the studio.”
“I’ll trust you on this. We can do it live.”
Her eyes brightened. “Really?”
“Yes. But you have to promise me you’ll be careful.”
“And you have to promise me the scoop before any other station.”
“Absolutely.”
“And an interview.”
“Okay.”
“And a date.”
He paused. Had he read her wrong? Did Trinity still have feelings for him? He didn’t want to hurt her. He liked her, but not intimately. Especially now.
“I’m kidding,” she said, grinning.
He must have looked relieved because she added, “You’re still involved with her.”
“Her?”
“Robin. Unless I’m wrong.”
He shook his head. “You’re not wrong.”
She winked at him. “It would never have worked between us. Cops and reporters, fire and ice.”
TWENTY-SIX
Robin woke to the sun streaming in over her partition. Odd—she glanced at the clock. Nine fifteen! She never slept this late.
She rolled over, already knowing Will wasn’t in bed with her. She listened to the sounds of her loft. The faint tick-tick-tick of the clock in her kitchen. Water running in the apartment downstairs. The general buzz of traffic three floors below. The purr of Pickles at her feet.
She felt the sheets where Will had been sleeping. Cool. He’d left some time ago. Her hand touched paper and she opened her eyes again. It was a note torn from the notepad beside her bed.
Robin—
You are beautiful when you sleep. I had to go to a meeting, but I’ll be back at ten. I’ll be bringing Agent Vigo and Dr. Gage with me.
I love you.
—Will
She wasn’t angry that he’d left; he had work to do. Still, she wished they’d woken up together, to see him in daylight with a clear mind and heart.
For years it had been so hard to let go of the pain of the past, but last night erased barriers between them. Maybe they had a chance. If she could just forget that horrible conversation seven years ago, delete it like she deleted spam, with a simple click.
Right now, she wanted to savor this blissful feeling. She almost felt guilty for feeling happy. Almost. But after this week of hell didn’t she deserve a moment of peace? Of happiness? Of the idea that maybe something good might come of all this, this, this evil that surrounded Theodore Glenn?
Robin showered and dressed in jeans and a filmy white blouse, as if she were going into the Sin. She restrained from putting on her belt holster. She didn’t want to act paranoid in her own damn apartment. Sleeping with the lights on was bad enough.
Thinking about the Sin brought her back down to earth. She had to close her business, at least for the next couple days. The idea made her ill, but she had to think about her employees. Her customers. What if Glenn wanted to go out with a bang? Have a big hostage situation? Kill not only her, but everyone in the building?
She couldn’t run the risk.
She made coffee, anything to act normally.
Though she was expecting the company, the knock on the door startled her. She looked through the peephole, then opened the door unceremoniously.
Will smiled warmly at Robin. For the first time since he saw her on Monday, she looked rested. Rested and beautiful, even with the worry lines across her face.
“You remember Jim Gage, right?” he asked. “And Hans Vigo?”
She nodded. “I made coffee.”
“I’ll help,” Will said. The kitchen didn’t afford them any privacy, but at least he could say softly, “I’m sorry I had to leave, but—”
“I got your note. It’s fine.”
He wanted to say something else. Specifically, something to the effect of, We’re okay now, right? You’re not still mad at me? But he didn’t.
Will was uncomfortable in this position. He generally decided when to break off a relationship. While he often pursued women, they always wanted to be pursued. It was safe that way. But Robin had left him when he didn’t want her to leave, and now she was back but he didn’t know how back. Forever? For tonight only?
She smiled at him, but he couldn’t read anything in the smile.
Robin put a tray of coffee, cream, and sugar on the kitchen table, then sat down.
Will said, “Robin, you might want to step out of the room.”
“I’m okay.”
“We’re going to be looking at crime scene photos.”
“I’ve seen them.”
“Robin—” He stopped. “You can walk away anytime.”
She nodded, holding her coffee mug with both hands.
They were the only four in the room. Even Mario was outside the door. No leaks.
First, Will said, “Trinity agreed to run the report. Twelve o’clock news, with repeats in the evening.”
“What report?” Jim asked.
“We asked Trinity to run with the story of Glenn breaking into her apartment. Then she’s going to interview me at the station and I’m going to state categorically that we looked at the evidence, the Feds looked at the evidence, and Glenn is guilty, case closed.”
Jim frowned. “So if Glenn didn’t do it, what do you think happened? We processed that scene with a fine-tooth comb. After the Coleman crime scene, we had everyone breathing down our neck. You, Descario, the press. I even had to go up in front of the professional condu
ct board. I swear the scene was processed clean.”
“You’re not under scrutiny, Dr. Gage,” Hans said.
“Then what exactly am I doing here?”
Will didn’t blame Jim for sounding defensive. “We want to look at the crime scene photos and preliminary notes again. With Hans, who hasn’t seen everything. That’s why I asked you to bring the case files.”
“I don’t have any evidence, only the written reports and photos.”
“But you have all the photos, correct?” Hans asked. “Not just the ones that went to the jury.”
“True. I prepared a board for the jury to highlight the similarities between the four murders. As you know, because we couldn’t use the physical evidence in the Coleman homicide, I needed to establish a causal link between the Anna Clark murder—where we had physical evidence—to the other three homicides where we didn’t have physical evidence. That we could use,” he added.
Jim opened the box, took out files, and put them on the table. “You don’t honestly believe Theodore Glenn is innocent?”
“He killed Bethany, Brandi, and Jessica,” Will stated emphatically. “He didn’t kill Anna Clark.”
Robin sucked in her breath, but said nothing. Will went on.
“We have new evidence that Theodore Glenn was physically elsewhere during the narrow window of Anna Clark’s TOD.”
“Then you’re saying that someone planted evidence on the body? The victim had Glenn’s hair in her hands.”
“It could have been planted,” Hans said.
Jim scowled. “Did you testify for the defense in the O.J. Simpson trial?”
Will couldn’t help but grin, but when he saw Jim’s and Hans’ stern faces, he covered up his humor. “Look, Jim, I know this sounds wacky. But hear me out, okay?”
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