Kiss of Deceit

by Patricia A. Rasey

  * * *

  Bob Reese sat on the corner of LeAnne’s desk sipping coffee from a foam cup. He had brought with him astonishing news. Both LeAnne and Sheriff Drake were thrilled with the findings. Now, all they needed was concrete evidence to link Tony Hargrove. DNA. If they could get Tony to volunteer blood samples, they could match the DNA found on Samantha Duncan.

  Getting him to volunteer the samples would not be quite as easy, though.

  “The SOB finally got careless,” Joe said, a smile stretching across his handsome face. “Well, good God, it’s about time.”

  “What will we do about the judge?” LeAnne asked.

  “Let me worry about that. I’ll get the search warrant. With the evidence we have now, Judge Hargrove won’t be able to utter a word. I just pray it turns out to be Anthony. If it doesn’t…the judge will likely hang us all by our balls.” Joe grinned. “Well, two of us anyway.”

  Bob chuckled. “Good thing we got that lucky break from VICAP, too. Sort of evens the odds a bit.”

  “So there’s a case at Boston University School of Law that’s two years old, never been solved?” LeAnne turned to Bob.

  “Looks that way. I’d like to go up there personally and question the detectives who did the case. Maybe we can find some DNA or something that might link this case to ours.”

  “Certainly sounds like our man,” Joe said as he headed for the door. “I’ll let you two discuss this while I obtain that search warrant. Bob—get your bags packed. You’re going to BUSL.”

  LeAnne turned back to the chief deputy. “What do we have that makes you think our man could have committed a crime two years ago?”

  “A hunch. VICAP came up with this case and, after looking it over, it might be a long shot, but I think it’s worth delving deeper. The best thing—Tony Hargrove was at BUSL the time of the murder. He didn’t graduate until spring of ’99. This woman was murdered in late February ’98.”

  “Strangled?”

  “Hyoid bone snapped. Eyelids hemorrhaged. Torture was evident; so were the binds that tied her wrists to the bed.”

  “Anything else?”

  “She was married, had a baby shortly before this happened.” Bob appeared thoughtful. “Poor thing has to grow up without a mother.”

  “No lip prints or anything as significant?”

  “That’s the part that doesn’t fit. Whoever killed her covered her afterwards, left a red rose atop the sheet. Shows remorse.”

  “Which our man never does.”

  “Could be the beginning of his killing spree; could have been an accident. That we don’t know. But we do know—all the surfaces were wiped clean with a towel, no prints, no semen.” He paused, then asked,

  “How did the interview go?”

  “You want to hear?”

  Bob raised his brows. “He let you record it?”

  “Yep,” she said, then depressed the play button on the small cassette player.

  Moments later, Bob nearly unseated himself in his chortles, whereas LeAnne found his humor sorely misplaced. Certainly, she saw nothing humorous about Tony’s blatant come-ons or his accusations where Snake had been concerned.

  “I’m sorry.” Bob grinned mischievously. “But you can’t help it. He had you dancing over a…‘Snake’ pit.”

  His laughter began anew, and LeAnne stood up to retrieve a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Laugh all you want,” LeAnne snapped. “You weren’t there.”

  “All right, all right,” he said, holding a hand up in front of him. “I give. You’re right, there was nothing funny about the way he handled his interview. By the way, what were you doing at Gallego’s at nine o’clock in the evening? Even the sheriff takes time off.”

  LeAnne flushed. “I just had…a…a few last minute questions I thought he might be able to clear up.”

  “Did you get what you wanted?”

  LeAnne’s gaze snapped up to Bob’s as the blood flowed hotly through her veins, heating everything in its trek. “What do you mean?”

  “Questions? Did you get the answers?”

  LeAnne quickly glanced away. “Not all of them.”

  “Chad still at BUSL?”

  “Until Wednesday,” LeAnne said, taking a sip from her cup, still not daring to look in Bob’s direction, lest he see the guilt written plainly in her eyes.

  “Since Joe authorized it, hopefully, I’ll fly out tomorrow. Maybe I’ll look him up while I’m there.”

  LeAnne smiled at Bob, knowing he willingly dropped the subject of Snake and her. “I could tell him you’re coming.”

  “No, don’t do that. I don’t know how much time I’ll have in Boston. I may have to fly in and fly back out. Now, let’s talk about Tony and what we hope to find.”

  “If the sheriff can get the warrant, then I want to get those pants he had on in the Harley shop the last time I saw him. They had holes in the knees and red paint on them. Could have been the pants he wore to kill the caretaker. We could send them off to the lab and have them compared to the samples taken from Jillian’s grave, the caretaker’s house, and my car.”

  “Speaking of samples, the paint matches.”

  “So the paint on my car very likely came from the same paint can that our perp used on Jillian’s grave.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “And the fibers found at Jillian’s grave?”

  “Match those found in the caretaker’s house. Now all we need to do is find those jeans.”

  “You think they were the ones I saw Tony wearing?” Bob shrugged. “Let’s hope so.”

  “You also said we had DNA.”

  Bob smirked. “The dumb SOB left tracks on the victim’s thigh before he ever put on the condom. We have small semen samples also found on the sheet. He’s getting sloppy.”

  “And beneath the nails?”

  “Traces of blood and skin. He wasn’t so lucky this time. Samantha Duncan put up a fight and our perp is wearing the scratches to prove it.”

  “I hope the sheriff gets that warrant.”

  “You and me both. But it would help if we can get Tony to volunteer blood samples. We can see if they match the ones left at the Duncan scene.”

  “Even so—if we don’t find something concrete to nail him, a DNA match could take months. More women could die.”

  “Not if he knows we have an eye on him.” Bob stood up and stretched, then glanced down at his watch. “I need to talk to the sheriff and see about getting that flight to Boston. Why don’t you get out of here and take it easy. Go home, catch some shuteye.”

  “What about the warrant?”

  “Joe Drake’s going to have to call in some favors for that one. It may take a while. There isn’t anything that won’t wait until tomorrow.”

  LeAnne rubbed her taut brow with two of her fingers, trying to alleviate some of the tension. “Thirty-two hours have already passed since Samantha’s death. Time is crucial.”

  Bob chuckled. “You aren’t going to do any more tonight, LeAnne. Tomorrow’s a new day. You get that warrant and see what we can turn up.”

  LeAnne watched the empty doorway for a long, silent moment after Bob disappeared through it. He had been right, as always. There wasn’t much more she could do tonight. She swallowed the rest of her coffee, turned off the pot, then shrugged into the sleeves of her light jacket.

  The intercom buzzed.

  LeAnne pushed the button. “Yes.”

  “Detective,” the second shift dispatcher said, Suzy having gone home for the day, “a Marcus Gallego is here to see you.”

  LeAnne groaned, staring at the silver box. “I’ll be right down.”

  Chapter 25

  Snake followed LeAnne out the side door of the sheriff’s office and around the building where she kept her car. The stubborn angle of her shoulders and the stiffness of her spine did little to stop the sexy sway of her hips. God, but he wanted her legs wrapped around his waist again, even if it were just one last time.

  He had had tr
ouble, the last few days, getting her out of his head, though it surely wasn’t for lack of trying. Blade and Rebel had kept his sorry rear busy all day yesterday, fixing and tuning their bikes. Of course they were both adept at tuning their own, but with Snake at their disposal, why bother. Besides, it’s not like he had a lot to do these days. Later, with everyone gone, Snake had kicked back in his recliner with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. LeAnne had plagued his rolling thoughts.

  Today had been no different.

  Instead of wallowing in crazy notions about what he might have to offer her that Chad could not, he gave up and went to the station. He had heard through the grapevine that Prosecutor Baker took a trip east and wouldn’t be back until the middle of the week, the reason LeAnne had been alone on a Saturday night. So if he couldn’t have her when Chad came home, he would sure in the hell have her now. LeAnne McVeigh would not easily forget Snake Gallego; he’d make sure of it.

  At the car, she finally turned to face him. Heat radiated in her green eyes like twin fires. “Just what possessed you to come to the office?”

  He shrugged, a grin itching at one corner of his lips. “I knew here you couldn’t slam the door in my face.”

  “Well, that’s just great,” LeAnne said, her voice rising in pitch.

  “There’s enough gossip going on about us that I’ll probably never live it down as it is. And here you are, in the flesh, adding fuel to the fire.”

  “Really?” Snake’s grin widened. “People are talking about us?”

  “Oh, that’s worth smiling about, Marcus,” she scoffed. “Are you forgetting I’m engaged?”

  He shed his smile and gave her his best poker face, even if it were just for her sake. Certainly, he did not want to cause a scene at the sheriff’s office. No—he wanted an invitation to follow her home. And if he got that invite, he meant to charm her right between the sheets.

  “Not for a minute. Besides, how could I? You seem to be good at reminding me. So what’s the gossip?”

  She rolled her bright green eyes. “That we’re sleeping together. Do you believe it?”

  Again, Snake grinned. “We are.”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. “Did—past tense—one time. And that was a mistake,” she quickly amended.

  Snake grasped her around the waist. “Are you so sure?” he whispered.

  She sucked in air, then struggled free of his grasp. “Are you totally insane?”

  He chuckled, but said nothing in his defense.

  “We’re standing in the open. Anyone could see us.”

  “Then I suggest you invite me back to your place where we can talk about this in private.”

  “You are insane.”

  “You want to continue this here?”

  LeAnne made a quick glance around the empty lot, then back at Snake. “Of course not.”

  He shrugged. “Then I suggest you give me that invite.”

  “Since when did you need one? I thought you just showed up where you felt like it.”

  “Usually. But then, again, I never go where I’m not wanted.” Snake used the pad of his thumb to tilt up her chin. “You do want me, LeAnne, don’t you?”

  The slender column of her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her heart pulsed in the hollow of her neck. He ran his fingers down her skin until he could feel the heavy beat of it against his fingers. LeAnne jerked away.

  “Follow me home before someone sees us.” She fumbled in her purse for her keys. “It’s not like you’ll easily go away, even if I ask.”

  Leaving her grumbling, Snake chuckled to himself as he walked around the building. He only need be asked once. Lifting his leg over the bike, he sat on the seat and pushed the electric start. The motorcycle roared to life.

  * * *

  Moments later, LeAnne stood at the rear entrance of her home, fidgeting with her key. She rarely entered her house by way of the back door, but could hardly lead him up the front steps with the gossip already milling about. Snake had parked his bike in the garage beside her car before she closed the door.

  The keys nearly tumbled to the ground in her clumsiness, and very well might have if Snake had not been standing so close behind her to catch them.

  “Here,” he whispered against her neck.

  Did he have to stand so close? Damn him and his alluring attraction, for LeAnne knew without a doubt, Snake was aware of the effect he had on her.

  His hand closed over her fingers, boldly stroking them before closing over the key. He gently wiggled it, then the lock snapped easily out of place.

  LeAnne rushed into the kitchen. Cool air hit her like a blast from the arctic. Thank God for air-conditioning.

  But cool air wasn’t the only thing she needed; she needed space.

  And a lot of it.

  A soft chuckle came from behind her.

  LeAnne spun on her heel and glared at him from across the kitchen. “Just what the hell do you find so funny?”

  Snake snapped the deadbolt back into place, then advanced on her. The dim light hid his dark expression as he walked in the shadows. He stopped mere inches away.

  “You,” he finally said. He traced the line of her jaw.

  “What…what do you think you’re doing?” She batted away his hand.

  “Only what you want me to do.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” LeAnne retreated a few steps. “We came here to talk. Remember?”

  “Sure we did.” Marcus followed her as she backed into the living room. The door easily pivoted behind them. “So talk.”

  Even in the soft light, she could see the predatory gleam in his brown eyes. Marcus had no intentions of talking, let alone carrying on a conversation.

  And if she were truthful with herself, she wanted him—no, needed him probably even more than he did her. The night in the barn had been one of the best sexual experiences she had ever had. Already, certain parts of her body were vividly recalling their tryst.

  She refused to give in so easily. “I…uh…think that maybe we should slow down. Talk—talking’s good.”

  He bridged the gap, snatched her wrist, and pulled her squarely against him. “You want to slow down, LeAnne?”

  “It might be wise.”

  “How slow do you want it?” he whispered, his grin cockeyed.

  Marcus would never hurt her; somehow she knew that. She wouldn’t have to worry about bruises, or making excuses. Though tough on the outside, he handled her like fine china. LeAnne never had a man treat her so gentle, nor did she think one walked the face of the earth that could.

  Not until Marcus, that is.

  First there was her father, who used his fist, his belt, or whatever seemed available. He put her in the hospital once when his temper had grown out of control. “Them damn steps,” he told the doctor. “You know how kids are, never lookin’ where the hell they’re going. Damn lucky she didn’t break her neck, the little fool.”

  And of course, the doctor had believed him. Back then, no one questioned the discipline of a child. Spare the rod and spoil the child. “The words come straight out of the Bible,” her father spouted more than once in his lifetime.

  Then came Chad. At first, he seemed her savior. He wanted a wife, a mother for his children. Soon enough, though, he let her know what he expected from her: obedience. He had used the back of his hand to prove his point. But he had never broken anything. And of course, he had only struck her because she deserved it.

  Finally, there was Marcus, who by outward appearances, would have been the poster-child for bad boys. But unlike the stigmatism placed on these men, Marcus seemed to make sure her pleasure came before his. But just her luck—he belonged to his dead wife.

  Well, not tonight.

  LeAnne would make sure, even if for just one night, Marcus belonged to her.

  Second thoughts aside, she grasped the bottom of his tee and yanked it from the confines of his jeans.

  * * *

  Seeing her surrender, Marcus slowly pulled his t
ee the rest of the way over his head and tossed it aside. He pushed her jacket from her shoulders and to the floor, before his hands freed the buttons on her blouse.

  Her fingers grabbled at the waistband of his jeans and worked the button free. He nearly laughed at her haste as she pushed uselessly against the band of his jeans, attempting to shove them past his hips.

  Marcus chuckled, took a shaky breath, and stepped back from her. “I thought you wanted to slow down.”

  LeAnne flushed, her hands attempting to cover what he had undone.

  He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, only slow the pace. Hell, he wanted to enjoy this, not like the last time. They had both been so sexually charged that it had been over before he had actually gotten started. And when LeAnne ran out of the barn full of remorse, it left him kicking himself for days.

  But not this time. This time, he’d take his sweet time.

  Snake grasped her hands and pulled them away. “Don’t cover yourself. Truth be told, you have too many damn clothes on for my liking.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Then why complain?”

  He chuckled. “Honey, that wasn’t a complaint. It was a suggestion. You want my pants off, I’ll gladly take them off. I just want to take my time, and I certainly don’t want you regretting it. There isn’t any space for three of us in this room.”

  “Jillian?”

  So, she compared herself to his dead wife.

  Hell, he had been talking about Chad, not Jillian. Snake tilted her chin upward so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Jillian is Jillian. I’ve wasted enough time thinking about someone who probably didn’t deserve it.”

  He knew LeAnne needed reassurance that his memories of Jillian had no place between them. He meant to give it.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said.

  Snake leaned down, kissing her swift and hard, then said, “Jillian is a distant memory. She went out on me more times than I could count. I’m not saying I didn’t love her. Hell, I must have, to have stayed with her as long as I did. But she’s gone now. I’ve accepted that.”

  “Really?”

  He winked. “Really.”