by Deborah Camp
“No? You’re such a novice! Up on all fours, baby,” he said, pulling her knees up until she balanced on them and her elbows. “That’s right. It’s deeper this way.” He gripped her hips and then he thrust hard into her.
Trudy cried out, startled by the quick invasion and his sudden mood change. This was definitely all about sex. Nothing seductive and coaxing going on between them this time. She felt herself expand and then contract, gloving him.
“Oh, my God, Trudy.” His voice was hoarse. Awe and surrender threaded through it. “Take all of me. Every fucking thing.”
She felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. She understood – knew what he was feeling . . . the overpowering sensations and the helpless sense that this was so incredibly perfect that it was terrifying.
He started to move then, really move and he took Trudy right along with him. Her thoughts scattered and she bowed her head as passion built within her. Reaching out, she grabbed the edge of the mattress and held on for dear life as he worked himself in and out of her, rocking his hips, thrusting, pushing her to her limits. Suddenly, all of her senses were in sharp focus. She could smell sex in the air and she could hear the slapping and slippery sounds as their bodies collided and glided. She could taste blood on her tongue where she’d bitten down on the inside of her lip. Looking over her shoulder, she watched Levi stare intently at the joining of their bodies, beads of sweat rolling from his temple to his jaw. He gripped her hips more tightly and drove into her faster, harder.
She could feel his own orgasm building as his body grew hotter and hotter and his breathing became harsher and harsher.
He went in deep, right to his root. She thrust back to meet him and he groaned. Matching his tempo, she gritted her teeth as the friction of their hot, slick bodies became a tad uncomfortable. She was tender inside and her flesh trembled. He was almost too big, almost too deep, but Trudy bit her lower lip and tasted blood again. Her discomfort gradually gave way to another inner explosion that had her crying out again. Black spots floated across her vision and she shut her eyes and let the orgasm find her.
“Yes, yes,” he bit out, almost savagely. “Get there . . . I’m there!” He came in a driving, hip-rocking force that sent a deep, deep spasm through her. His fingers dug into her hips as he rode out his orgasm. His breath escaped in a long, hissing, groan. She fell onto the mattress, her muscles suddenly jelly, and he collapsed on top of her, his chest rising and falling and his skin hot and shimmering with perspiration. “Jesus, that was good,” he whispered, clearly awed as he caressed her arms and laced his fingers with hers. “I am wrung out. I don’t think I can even move.”
“You have to,” Trudy said, squirming. “I can’t breathe.”
Laughing a little, he rolled off her. “Aren’t you glad you stayed?”
She rolled her eyes. The arrogant ass. “Yes,” she conceded.
“So am I.” He discarded the condom and then flung a leg over hers. “Stay the night.”
“No.”
He lifted his head and looked at her. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I have to get back to the RV.”
“Why? Mouse isn’t going anywhere. She’ll be fine.”
She started to move, but he flung an arm across her. “Levi, just swing by and pick me up on your way into Key West tomorrow.”
“I have a better idea. You keep your sweet ass in this bed next to me and we can have sex again in the morning.” He nuzzled her ear. “What’s with the brush off after we fuck?”
She winced, hearing him call it that right after she’d had multiple orgasms diminished it for her. Obviously, it hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her. She patted his arm. “Let me up.”
“No can do.” His breath was warm against her neck.
With a burst of strength, she wiggled free and bounded from the bed.
“For Christ sake, Trudy!” he bit out, clearly ticked off.
She snatched her clothes off the floor and began dressing under his scowling regard. When she glanced at him, she winced again. He was furious. His black brows bridged his stormy blue eyes and he rested one muscle-defined arm on top of his bent knee, the sheet pooling between his legs.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, trying to appease him.
“Shouldn’t you leave some money on the nightstand?”
That brought her to a halt. She turned slowly toward him. “Don’t be that way. We had fun, right?”
“Right, and now you’re done and you can’t stand to be in the same room with me. But I’m not supposed to feel like your man whore?”
She let her hands fall limply to her sides and her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Levi, please! Are you going to sit there and tell me you’ve never had sex with a woman and left shortly afterward to go home to your own bed?” She held his gaze and when he looked away, she knew she’d won. “Seriously?”
“Go on then.” He fell back on the bed. “Drive carefully.”
Seizing the meager victory, Trudy let herself out of his room, needing to get away from him so that she could think clearly. Her plan to keep her heart guarded from him wasn’t working. His heart seemed to be well-protected, but her defenses were weakened. Severely weakened.
###
The police station on Roosevelt Boulevard looked like a wedding cake to Trudy – all pink and white with soft, rounded edges. Inside, it was tougher looking. Bustling with uniformed officers, there were also a lot of regular folks milling around and most of them looked as if they wished they didn’t have to be there.
She and Levi went through a metal detector and were issued “visitor” lanyards which they hung around their necks.
Levi led her up a flight of stairs, down a hall, and into a big space full of dividers and desks. A sign on the double glass doors read: Detective Division. He stopped at the first desk where a dark-skinned, young woman was speaking to someone via a headset.
Dressed in his usual – black upon black upon black – Levi had added a pair of tortoise shell sunglasses which he now took off and slipped into his jacket’s inside pocket. In the Keys where “casual dress” was the dress code almost everywhere, he stood out in his suit and tie. But, then he’d stand out in jeans and a t-shirt, too, she thought, giving him the once-over and remembering how gorgeous his body was without clothes.
He was back to being cool, in control Levi, she thought, and she was glad. She’d been nervous when they’d set off for Key West in the Nissan to take Quintara to the airport, unsure of how to act around him after last night. But she needn’t have worried. He’d greeted her as if nothing had transpired . . . as if he hadn’t made her come over and over again and she hadn’t cried out his name until she was hoarse.
Feeling a little flushed by her meandering thoughts, Trudy was thankful for the blast from an air-conditioning vent as they waited for the receptionist to address them. It was a hot day and she was glad she’d opted for a light blue sundress with spaghetti straps. Moderately-high heeled strappy sandals hugged her feet. The afternoon was heating up.
“Hello,” the receptionist said, ending the call. “How can I help you today?”
“Hello. I’m Levi Wolfe and this is Miss Tucker. We have an appointment with Detective Sinclair.”
“I’ll let him know.” She punched some buttons on the telecommunications console and waited a few seconds. “Detective? Mr. Wolfe and Miss Tucker are here to see you. Will do.” She smiled up at them. “Do you know which cubicle is his?”
“I do. Thank you.” Levi grasped Trudy’s elbow and ushered her around and through the crowded room to somewhere in the middle of it. “Hi, Tom. Good to see you again.” He reached out to shake hands with the man who had stood up from behind a cluttered desk. “You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my associate Trudy Tucker. Trudy, this is Detective Tom Sinclair. He’s heading up the case we’re interested in.”
Tom Sinclair was in his early thirties, Trudy guessed, and his blond hair was beginning to thin and recede, but he
was still a handsome man. He reminded her of a young Prince William. He shook Levi’s hand, then hers. His fingers were gentle as he gave her hand more of a squeeze than a shake.
“Good to meet you,” he said, his brown eyes moving up and down her frame. “Won’t you have a seat? Where are you from, Ms. Tucker?”
“I live in Tulsa. Please call me Trudy.”
“Okay, but only if you call me Tom.” When he smiled, the skin in the corners of his brown eyes crinkled. “Oklahoma, huh? Is that where you live, too, Wolfe?”
“No.”
Trudy looked at Levi in momentary surprise. Where did he live? She realized that she had no idea. She had assumed he lived near Tulsa, maybe Oklahoma City.
After they were seated, Tom Sinclair opened a green file folder on his desk. “We’ve made some headway,” he said, flipping through a few pages. “I talked to that guy this morning – the one you said was at the bar with Zelda. Your description helped a lot and the bartender was able to zero in on him and find his credit card receipt.”
Swiveling her gaze sharply to Levi, Trudy hitched up her chin in a show of irritation. When had this all happened? Levi unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat forward, obviously eager for more information. Trudy would have liked nothing better than to give him a swift kick in the shin.
“What did he say? Is he a local?” Levi asked.
“He’s a truck driver out of Marathon and El Paso, Texas,” Tom said, his eyes moving back and forth as he read from the file. “His name is Hank Booker or Henry Booker. He’s divorced.” Tom’s gaze lifted to find Trudy and he smiled. “Like me.” Then he looked down at the file again.
Trudy shifted in the chair, wondering if Tom Sinclair was flirting or simply being friendly.
“Booker met Zelda that very same night and he hasn’t seen her since,” Tom continued, reading from his file notes. “Doesn’t know where she lives or her phone number. The barkeep couldn’t remember much about her, but hopefully we will be able to jar his memory.” He closed the folder and grinned at Trudy. “Are you attached? Divorced?”
Trudy smiled. Oh, okay. He was definitely flirting. “Neither.”
“Really?” Tom wiggled his eyebrows, making her laugh under her breath.
Trudy looked away from him and felt her face and neck grow warm. She had the distinct feeling that Levi was glaring at her. She glanced at Levi and censure was evident in his expression. He lifted one, winged brow and set his mouth in a firm line of disapproval. She shrugged him off. Jeez! Stand down, Wolfe, she thought. It’s just a harmless, little flirtation!
Sinclair opened the folder again. “Booker gave a description of Zelda to Wanda, our sketch artist, and Wanda’s putting finishing touches on it now. He described her as having black, shoulder-length hair and she’s tall and has broad shoulders – kind of like a swimmer, you know? She has a good figure. Couldn’t remember the color of her eyes. She wore a tight, black mini-skirt and a long-sleeved, red blouse that night. Oh, and really high heels.” The detective’s gaze drifted to Trudy’s shoes and the ghost of a smile flitted across his lips. He closed the folder and tossed it onto the desk. “Anyway, we’ll check on how Wanda’s doing. She’s probably done by now.” He looked at Trudy. “So, you’re psychic, too?”
“Yes.”
“Wolfe says you get into the murderer’s mind. That must suck.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s a good description of how it is.” She shared a few more moments of mirth with him before a colder presence made her glance sideways. Levi was not amused. His glare was downright glacial as he looked from Tom to her and back to Tom again.
“Could we see that sketch now, Tom?” he asked, low and clipped.
The detective blinked. “Sure. This way, folks.”
“Did you get my e-mails, Tom?” Levi asked, motioning for Trudy to walk ahead of him, even though he didn’t spare a glance for her.
“Yeah, I did.” Tom checked his stride, looking over his shoulder and the top of Trudy’s head to Levi. “Thanks. That gives us a lot more to consider.”
“I e-mailed my notes from yesterday to the detective,” Levi said for Trudy’s edification.
“Did you now?” She bristled, feeling left out. What else had he been doing? Who else had he e-mailed about his findings?
“Hi, Wanda,” the detective greeted a middle-aged woman sitting by a sunny window. She looked up from the computer screen. “Got anything yet?”
“Yes, I think so. Let me print it off.” She hit a button on the keyboard and a printer on her desk buzzed and began to vibrate as it spit out a sheet of paper. “Here you go.” She handed the page to Tom, then smiled at Levi and Trudy. “How are you today?”
Levi held out his hand. “Fine, thank you, Wanda. I’m Levi Wolfe and this is Trudy Tucker.”
“Oh, ‘scuse my lack of manners,” Tom said with a chuckle, handing the paper to Levi. “She’s a pretty good looker. I’d buy her a drink.”
Levi accepted the drawing and angled it so that Trudy could see it, too. The woman staring back at them had a chiseled nose, square chin, big, luminous eyes, thick hair, combed back from a widow’s peak, and a wide mouth. Her lips weren’t full, but they weren’t too thin either. She wasn’t smiling, but she was giving a kind of come-hither stare from the page. Trudy looked at Levi. He gaze was devouring the image before him and she knew he was committing it to memory.
“You can keep that,” Tom said. “Print me off another for the file, Wanda.”
“Sure. No prob.” Wanda hit the button again, bringing life to the printer.
“We’ll take copies of this around to the bars in that area to see if anyone knows her,” Tom said. “And I’ll show it to the bartender at The Gold Lagoon to see if he recalls seeing her around and if she’s been back since then.”
“You’ll call me if anything important is uncovered that might help us?” Levi asked.
“You got it.” Tom gave a wink that he directed mostly at Trudy.
Levi motioned for Trudy to precede them as they wound their way back to Tom’s cubicle. “I wanted to ask you something, Tom.”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Sissy Franklin of Court TV wants me to do a remote to discuss my interest in this particular case. How do you feel about that?”
Trudy stopped in her tracks and spun around to face Levi. He studiously avoided her blazing glare at him, but Tom Sinclair didn’t. He looked, bemused, from Levi to Trudy and back to Levi.
“Well, uh . . .” Tom ran a hand around the back of his neck and grinned at Trudy. “I guess that would be all right with me,” he said with great emphasis, “so long as you don’t reveal anything that hasn’t already been in the newspapers and on television. I mean, you know things that we haven’t released to the public because we—.”
“You keep some details to yourself so that you can use them to validate anyone who comes forward and says he or she has something to add to it,” Levi finished for him, nodding. “Yes, I know that tactic and I’m fine with it. So, it’s okay?”
Tom nodded with a shrug and cut his eyes at Trudy again. She could barely keep from screaming at Levi, she was so irritated. Oh, he’d get an earful as soon as they were out of this building and out of earshot!
“Great. Thanks.” Levi edged around Trudy as if she was a pillar that was in his way. He confidently made his way to the exit.
“You okay?” Tom asked.
Trudy blinked and forced a smile to her lips. “Yes. It was nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.
“Nice to meet you, too. Hey, could you give me your phone number in case – well, in case I want to call you?” His brown eyes sparkled with good-natured interest.
Trudy nodded, glad to have a friendly cop on her side for a change. “Sure.”
He pulled a small notebook and a pen out of his breast pocket. He pressed the button at the end of the pen and grinned. “Blast away. I’m ready.”
She told him her phone number and he recorded it in his notebook.
“Cell.”
He winked. “Good.”
“Well . . . see you later.”
“You betcha.”
Trudy walked quickly away from him. She found Levi waiting for her just outside the building. He sent her a dark scowl.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“He wanted my phone number.”
“What for? He has mine.”
She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Really, Levi? Three guesses and the first two don’t count.” When he continued to glare at her, she rolled her eyes. “Quintara has been on me to be friendlier to the police.”
Still fixing her with an ominous scowl, he pushed his sunglasses on to hide his steely blues from her. “There’s a big difference between being cordial and being flirtatious. You two were flirting.”
“So what? I’m unattached.” She shrugged.
His head jerked as he stared hard at her. “You were attached to me a few hours ago.” He shook his head, clearly irritated. “Christ, Trudy.” He held up a hand to stop her from saying anything. “Look, all I’m going to say about this business with Sinclair is that you shouldn’t get personally involved with the police or anyone else connected to a case you’re working.”
“That includes you?” she asked, quietly, and she couldn’t keep the smile from touching her lips.
A curse she could barely hear above the traffic sounds whispered past his lips. “I’m your partner, Trudy. They are on one side . . .” He gestured, motioning away. “And we are on the other side.” He brought his hand back to his chest. “Got it?” He tilted his head sideways, silently telling her to follow him. “Let’s find a good electronics store.”
Trudy walked with him across the plaza and along the street to where he’d parked the Nissan. She waited until they were strapped in and merged into the traffic before she launched into what she wanted to talk about.