At Close Range

by Jessica Andersen

  “Not the way you and I define rational, maybe.” Varitek shrugged. “Killers have a tendency to redefine logic to suit themselves.”

  “True.” They fell silent as their appetizers were delivered, but Cassie only picked at her food, because the pall of death had gathered over the small, dimly lit table for two.

  Varitek deliberately dug into his appetizer. “Your neighbors seem like good people.”

  Cassie looked up, startled by the change in subject. “The McGlaughlins?”

  “Didn’t catch his name. Young guy with a baby face and a pump-action shotgun.

  Nearly put a big hole in me when I went to break down your door.”

  Though it was yet another reminder of the case and the danger, she grinned at the image and the subject change. “That’s Dean. He’s a sweetheart. I barely spoke to him and Mary for the first couple of months I lived in the house, but once little Eden came along, I just couldn’t stay away.” When he arched an eyebrow, she shrugged and laughed. “Go figure. I wouldn’t have thought of myself as a baby person, either.” When he didn’t respond, she felt the heat of a faint blush in her cheeks and hoped he didn’t think she was fishing. She quickly said, “So, you know that I live in a two-family. How about you? Something glass and chrome, with ten foot ceilings and double doors everywhere?”

  She expected him to laugh. Instead, he grew pensive. Quiet, as though she’d struck a nerve when she was only looking for a safe topic of conversation. Finally, he said,

  “I have a good-sized house in a gated community outside of Denver. Stone floors, wood trim, big fireplace. That sort of thing. There’s a studio at the back with great light and ventilation.” His eyes darkened. “I keep meaning to drywall it and turn it into a gym, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

  Cassie knew she shouldn’t ask, but couldn’t stop herself. “I take it the studio was your wife’s?”

  “It was supposed to be.” He looked at her then, and his eyes held a weariness that tugged at her heart. He didn’t even seem to notice the arrival of their entrées as he said, “We’d been fighting again, same old, same old. I thought if we changed the scenery, if Robyn had someplace that was hers, maybe she’d settle down and be happier.”

  He shifted in his chair while music drifted over from the club next door. A lone trumpet held a single note over the faint background hiss of the nearby sea.

  “What did she think of that?” Cassie asked.

  “About what you’re probably imagining,” he said dryly. “She loved the city, loved its pulse and its edge. Said I was trying to make her into a suburban housewife and she wouldn’t stand for it.”

  “Couples fight,” Cassie said, wishing she’d never mentioned the house, never asked about the studio. “I’m sure she got over it.”

  “She never had the chance. The next day, she was attacked on her way home from the showing. I was supposed to be with her. I’d promised to be with her, but I got called to a scene.” Varitek stared at his left hand, at the finger Cassie assumed had once worn a ring. “They’d planned it, of course, knowing I’d respond to the call. Hell, Trouper and I had been trying to get the Diablo brothers for nearly a year. We’d just put one of them away and were closing in on the other two. They’d made threats, of course, but I didn’t listen.”

  As though suddenly remembering that he was hungry, Varitek lifted his fork and dug into his dinner with single-minded intensity, as though he was punishing the food, or maybe himself. The open window beside them let through the sound of the band next door, a melancholy collection of horns and strings with very little backbeat.

  After a few minutes, Cassie decided she couldn’t stand the strained silence anymore. She cleared her throat with a swallow of soda and said, “Listen, Varitek—”

  “For God’s sake,” he snapped. “What do I have to do to get you to call me Seth?”

  She jerked back from his anger, but told herself it wasn’t aimed at her. It was the situation. The emotion. Something.

  She stood, collected her purse and slapped a few bills on the table. “Come on, Seth.

  Let’s take a walk.”

  He scowled at the money. “I’m paying, damn it.”

  When he reached for the bills she said, “Touch that and I’ll break your fingers.

  Let’s go.”

  Surprisingly, the empty threat worked. He drained his soda and stood, reminding her once again how much taller he was than she. How much stronger.

  He followed her out onto the back terrace of the restaurant, then down onto the sand. When she paused near a string of colored lights to remove her shoes, he put a hand to the small of her back. “Let’s get out of the light.”

  She knew he meant because they made better targets backlit by the restaurant. It was practicality, nothing more, but as the night closed around them and they walked down by the cloud-darkened water, the intimate isolation was undeniable.

  They stayed side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but didn’t touch. They walked slowly, their feet sinking into the soft sand, not walking for exercise or to get anywhere in particular, but because it was easier than sitting in a lit restaurant, facing each other.

  Finally, Cassie said, “I know I’ve spent plenty of time telling you what you’re doing wrong, what you need to change…but sometimes changing isn’t the right answer.

  Sometimes, if you need to change that much it means that you’re not with the right person.”

  “Sounds like you speak from experience.”

  Cassie tried to shrug off Seth’s quiet sentence, but something about the darkness, the rush of the nearby water and the far away throb of music overcame some of her long-held barriers.

  Or if they weren’t overcome, they seemed less important, somehow.

  “His name was Lee Adams. He was an instructor when I went for my M.S. in forensic chemistry and criminology. He was…” She paused, searching for the right words.

  “He was older than me by maybe eight or ten years, and everyone looked up to him because he’d been on the job. He was wounded on the streets and retired to teach—at least that was his story.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and fought it, knowing she was just as much to blame as Lee had been.

  He’d misled her, yes. But she’d allowed it.

  “What was it, skiing accident?” Seth’s dry question came out of the darkness and hit just the right chord within her.

  Incredibly she was able to laugh about it. “Worse. It was an old tennis injury.” She shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see the motion. “I was completely and totally gullible. I even defended him to the other students. We started dating—” that sounded better than I fell head over heels for him, “—and moved in together after six months or so.”

  “And I’m guessing you fought.” Seth paused in his walking step and turned to face her. “Look. I know you mean well, but there’s a big difference between living with someone and being married. Marriage is permanent. There’s no going back—the only option is to make it work, fights and all. And if you screw it up…” He spread his hands, a shadow of dark against light barely visible in the light from the beachside homes. “You’re done. You only get one chance.”

  “We didn’t fight,” Cassie corrected him. “I changed so we wouldn’t fight. I worked my butt off to be what he wanted, to keep the peace…until one day I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself anymore. I’d entered the program wanting to make it into the police academy, but I’d been spending so much time on Lee’s things that I’d let my grades slip. Only one academy was willing to take a chance on me because of my science background and my test scores, but it would’ve meant leaving Lee and I’d gotten to the point that I couldn’t even do that.”

  “Because you loved him,” Seth said, his voice flat.

  “No. Because I let him control me.” Cassie fisted her hands at her sides and began walking again, back toward their restaurant and the sounds of a mournful trumpet solo. She was aware of Seth walking at her side, though she
spoke as much to the memories as to him. “I listened when he told me I wouldn’t be able to hack it at the academy, that I wouldn’t be able to manage without him. I almost believed it when he said I should be grateful for the junior instructor’s position he’d create for me.

  I could work with him, he said, but he really meant that I could work for him, just like I did at home.”

  Her feet dug deep, angry gouges in the sand. She wanted to run, but that would be giving Lee too much power, so she made herself walk while she continued the story.

  “I moved away from home because I was tired of my brothers protecting me, tired of them scaring off boys who wanted to date me. Then what did I do? I hooked up with someone a hundred times more controlling, and I didn’t even see it. It took me eighteen months to get away from him, and another couple of years to really believe in myself, to be able to say that I’m good at my job.” She forced a laugh that broke around the edges. “Maybe I say it too often or too loud, but I’m working on that.

  Slowly, but I’m working on it.”

  They had reached the halo of light surrounding their restaurant, but Seth laid a hand on her arm and stopped her just short of the lit patch of sand. “Hold on a minute.”

  She felt a shimmer of heat at his touch, a spark at the point of contact. “What?”

  She expected him to continue the conversation, to argue that their situations were different, that he hadn’t wanted to control his wife, he’d only wanted to keep her safe. She expected more heavy conversation, though her soul already felt like it was dragging from the weight of their not-really-a-date. She expected another fight, or maybe the silence he was so comfortable with.

  She never expected him to hold out a hand as the band next door swung into something slow and bluesy, and say, “Dance with me? Just once before we go back inside.”

  Chapter Ten

  They were quite a pair, Seth thought as she took his hand. She was trying to prove her worth to anyone who would listen, while he—

  Hell, he didn’t know what he was doing anymore.

  He held her close enough that he could catch her scent on the sea air, but not as close as he would have liked while they shuffled their feet in the clinging sand.

  After a moment, she sighed as though giving in to something, closed the distance between them and tucked her head into the hollow between his shoulder and jaw.

  Warmth, a possessive and terrifying sort of heat rose within him and he slid his arms around her, holding her, until they were barely swaying. The trumpeter swept a note high above the strings and held it as their mouths met and mated, their arms curled around each other and held on.

  The kiss started out soft, almost experimental, as though neither of them quite believed in the heat. But the fire rose quickly, scorching him, consuming him, bringing them closer and closer together until he wasn’t sure where his flesh ended and hers began. He dragged his mouth to the hollow behind her ear and sifted his fingers through the long waves of her hair.

  Her fingers dug into his back, then clutched in his shirt to pull it up and out of his waistband. Then her hands were beneath the cloth, stroking his back, his ribs.

  Everywhere she touched, small embers ignited, a chain reaction of pleasure that nearly drove him mad.

  He growled and kissed her again, a deep, wet, searching kiss that had her murmuring acceptance and crowding closer. Frustrated by the layers of clothing that separated them, he slid his hands down to span her waist.

  And found it bare already.

  The tails of her shirt were untied, granting him access to the warm, taut skin beneath. He slid his hand up, then higher still until he could—

  A wolf whistle drowned out the last dying notes of the trumpet, and a man’s voice shouted, “Woo-hoo! You go, dude!” A babble of voices seconded the suggestion.

  Seth cursed and tightened his hold on Cassie when she would have pulled away. He turned and glared at the group of college-age kids who were leaning on one another as they staggered up the beach to God only knew where. But he was just as angry at himself.

  If the drunken revelers had managed to get the drop on him, their killer could have done the same at any damned moment.

  Cassie tugged at his arm. “We should go.”

  He wasn’t sure whether she meant because of the young men, who continued to shout uncreative suggestions, because of the threat of danger, or because their night was over. Knowing she was right on all three counts, he scooped her shoes from the sand, shook them out and offered them to her. She pulled the sneakers on, and they slipped around the side of the restaurant, not wanting to walk through the dining area and be reminded of their earlier awkward conversation or too-quick departure.

  When she stumbled in the darkness, he took her hand for support and didn’t let go once they were back in the light. Heat thrummed from the point of contact, undimmed by the cool air moving beneath his untucked shirt. Instead of fading, the sensual excitement only climbed as he checked beneath the SUV—just in case—and helped Cassie into the passenger seat.

  When he took the driver’s seat and started the engine, she sat quietly, but when he placed his hand on the console between them, she curled her fingers around his in a signal of agreement.

  Acceptance.

  When he parked at the motel, amidst the multicolored lights given off by the stained-glass lampshades, she waited for him to get her door and help her down, a rare concession for a woman he knew damn well could be as tough as any man on the job.

  But she was all woman as she walked to her door, stopped, turned back—

  And held out a hand in invitation.

  HE THOUGHT ABOUT ARGUING. Cassie could see it in his eyes, feel it in her soul.

  But the arguments didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. Not after their walk on the beach.

  Not after that dance they’d shared at the edge between darkness and light.

  So he took her hand without a word, without the obligatory are you sure? He waited while she unlocked the door and quickly checked the room, just in case.

  All the while, she was aware of him watching her. Aware of the blood thrumming just below the surface of her skin, making the brush of her clothes nearly unbearable.

  When she was sure there had been nobody in her room, that there was nobody in the closet, no ticking device beneath the bed, she locked the door behind them both, clicked off the light and turned toward him.

  The outdoor light filtered through the curtains, splashing them with the soft, aching romance of stained glass. Both of them were breathing fast, as though they’d run to reach the place they’d gotten to.

  And maybe, in a way, they had.

  Once she was facing him, with no distractions to blunt the power of his presence, she faltered. Her pulse stuttered at the intensity of his eyes, at the sheer size of him.

  Nerves were a sudden, unwelcome friend.

  “I’m sure of this,” he said, surprising her because there was no question in his voice, no hesitation. “I don’t know what’s going to come of it, but this is right for me.” He swallowed hard. “It’s time for me to stop running in place, time to finish turning the studio into a gym and move on.”

  The darkness cloaked them in intimacy, and a bird called outside, sounding like the last, fading note of a single trumpet. That memory, coupled with the need she had been trying to avoid for days—maybe months—sent Cassie forward until she and Seth were almost touching.

  She looked up into his eyes and feared he would see the vulnerability when she said,

  “I gave Lee too much power over me even after I left him. I’m ready to stop doing that.”

  She wondered if he noticed that neither of them mentioned the other, neither of them mentioned wanting to be together, wanting to stay together. Maybe that was implied.

  Maybe it simply wasn’t time for that.

  They closed the final distance between them, meeting halfway as equals, as partners, and she found herself wishing they hadn’t been
interrupted on the beach.

  There, the fire had flared high between them, blunting rational thought and giving them the excuses. It was the heat of the moment. It was just sex.

  But as their lips touched, hesitated and held, she knew neither of those excuses rang true anymore. There was heat, yes. Excitement warmed her, spread through her, igniting chain reactions deep inside as he slanted his mouth across hers and sought entry. There was charged electricity as he slid his big arms around her, cupping her bare waist beneath the untied shirt and sliding his thumbs to either side of her stomach, where want thrummed just beneath the skin.

  But this wasn’t the heat of the moment anymore. This was an acknowledged decision, one that Cassie reinforced by opening her mouth to him, tangling her tongue with his and sliding her hands beneath his shirt and up his chest, where a faint dusting of hair was soft contrast to the hard muscle beneath. Yes, her hands and her mouth said wordlessly, I will be your lover tonight.

  The heat rose higher as his fingers clamped on her denim-covered hips and she pulled his shirt off, leaving him gloriously bare above. She slid her hands up across the hardness of his biceps and the width of his shoulders, reveling in the feel of him, the strength of him. He muttered a dark promise and crowded her backward.

  She expected to feel the soft mattress at her knees.

  Instead, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her until her heart fought to break free of her rib cage. He slid his hands down to her thighs, just above her knees, and lifted her in one smooth, powerful move. Suddenly, their mouths and hips were perfectly aligned and her legs formed a pocket for him, allowing him to step forward and into her so his lower body held her aloft, allowing his hands freedom to roam.

  His strength should have made her feel small and weak, but instead it made her feel powerful. Alive.

  Greedy for more.

  She went to work on his belt and the snap and zipper beneath, while their mouths met over and over again, giving and taking, then taking again. He undid the last few buttons on her shirt and unfastened the front-clip bra beneath. For an instant, she wished it had been dark lace rather than plain cotton, but his groan when he touched her, cupped her, caressed her, told her that dark lace would have been wasted on him.