At Close Range

by Laura Griffin

  “I don’t talk about that stuff much,” he said.

  “I know.”

  He watched over her shoulder as she expertly shifted the pan to even out the eggs.

  The thing was, she did know. She was totally familiar with the silent way he’d dealt with everything since he’d come home. He never talked about his frustrations or his temper or the black moods that sometimes came over him for days at a time. But she had a way about her, a certain stoicism that told him maybe she could handle it. She was tougher than people gave her credit for—especially her brothers. Scott knew that for a fact.

  She sprinkled cheese and peppers over the eggs, then used the fork to fold everything over.

  “You want something to drink with this?” she asked.

  He kissed her again and turned to her refrigerator to hunt up some drinks. She slid her creation onto a plate, cut it with a spatula, then pushed the second half onto another plate and carried them to the bar.

  He popped open the drinks and put them on the counter as he took the stool beside her.

  “Beer with eggs,” she said. “Nice.”

  “After-sex food.”

  She lifted an eyebrow as she dug into her omelet. He watched her over his bottle as he took a sip. The fact that she was feeding him instead of kicking him out was a positive sign. He’d truly thought he’d blown it for the second time in three days. And he had the urgent desire not to blow it with her. He didn’t know what this was, exactly, but it was important. She was important. He’d sensed it for a while, but it hadn’t truly hit him until she was underneath him in that ditch after that truck fireballed and Doern was shooting at her.

  She glanced up. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He forked up a bite and moaned. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Thank you.”

  He took another bite and glanced around, and he suddenly realized what was different about her place. “You unpacked.”

  “Finally.”

  “When?”

  “Last few nights.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I was all worked up.”

  He stopped eating and watched her. “About what happened in New Mexico?”

  “That. And the case. And us.” She turned her beer bottle on the counter, but didn’t look at him. “I didn’t like how we left things. You made me mad.”

  “Yeah, I picked up on that. Your ‘short and sweet’ comment insulted my manhood.”

  The corner of her mouth curved up. “I think your manhood survived.”

  He nudged her knee with his. “So, you admit you said that purely to piss me off?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If anything was short, that’s on you. I have way more stamina.”

  Her cheeks flushed and she squirmed on the stool. He shifted to face her, trapping her legs between his.

  “So, what’s up with that anyway?”

  She shot him a look. “What?”

  He took her hand and held it tight when she tried to pull away. “You go off like a rocket.” The first time had caught him totally off guard, and he’d been thinking about it ever since. It had happened again tonight. He’d barely had time to get her clothes off.

  She definitely did not want to talk about this. She tugged her hand away and picked up her beer.

  “I can’t help it. You just . . .” She shook her head.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No way.” He took the bottle from her hand and set it on the counter. “You have to finish that. I just what?”

  “Everything’s just—” She looked at him, and something achingly soft was in her eyes. “—intense, you know?”

  Oh, yeah. He definitely knewi

  He’d been thinking about it since those first moments in that crappy motel room. He’d been with so many women—not that she wanted to hear about that right now—but Daniele was different.

  He cleared his throat. “I know. It feels . . .” The closest thing he could think of was his first HALO jump—the huge rush, the sensory overload, the crash. The pure disbelief the second it was over. “Like jumping out of a plane.”

  Her brows arched with concerned surprise. Clearly she didn’t know what to do with that comment.

  “It’s good. Trust me.”

  But she didn’t. He could see it in her face. She looked wary now, like she wished she hadn’t said anything, and he was fumbling the ball again.

  She was so damn beautiful sitting there looking at him that way, and he felt something crack inside him. She deserved better than him. Way better. But until she figured that out, he was going to go with this, because he was an opportunist.

  She stood up. “You finished?” She reached for his empty plate and carried it to the sink.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He walked over to the sink and caged her against the counter with his arms, dipping his head so that he was eye level with her. “No. You’re mad again.”

  She shook her head and looked away. “It’s hard to discuss things with you.”

  “What things?”

  “Anything. This. Relationships.” She huffed out a breath. “Forget it, okay? I don’t want to talk about this.”

  He straightened and put his hands on his hips. “Yes you do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do, or you wouldn’t have brought up the subject. Man up and tell me what you want, Daniele.”

  Anger flared in her eyes. “Why don’t you man up and tell me what you want?”

  He looked at her for a long moment. Then he pulled her against him and kissed her. It wasn’t soft or romantic, but it was honest. She resisted him at first, but he tipped her head back to give himself better access, and soon she was kissing him back with all the fire she usually gave him, and he slid his hands under her shirt to touch all that warm skin.

  She pulled away and stared up at him, and something in her look made him stop.

  “I want . . . you,” she said. “I’ve always wanted you.”

  He saw the fear in her eyes, and his chest tightened because she was taking a risk here, baring herself like that. Her courage humbled him. It was a different kind from what he had. He had courage in combat, yeah, but emotional courage had always been in short supply.

  Scott kissed her, pulling her close and fitting her hips against him. No matter how much he kissed her, he never seemed to get enough.

  “Scott,” she said between kisses.

  “You’re so pretty. . . .” He kissed her mouth, her jaw, her throat. He wanted to pick her up and take her back to bed.

  “Scott, aren’t you worried about everything?”

  “No.”

  “I am.” She eased back and looked at him. “This could ruin our friendship.”

  “I don’t want to be your friend anymore, Daniele.” He slid a hand up to cup her face. “It’s this or nothing for us.”

  She gazed up at him with those soulful eyes. She started to say something, but he kissed her. He was done with telling her things. He just wanted to show her.

  • • •

  He eased her back onto the bed and hovered over her. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, and she reached for his jeans.

  “No.” He took her wrists and moved them above her head, pinning them to the bed. He kept one hand there and the other trailed down the center of her body.

  He kissed her mouth, her neck. “We do this my way this time.” His breath was hot against her ear. “Don’t rush us.”

  She shivered with anticipation as he worked his way down, slowly easing up her shirt and sliding kisses over her skin as he undressed her, inch by inch. When all her clothes were stripped away, he stood up and got rid of his own. He stretched out over her, giving her a stern look as he eased on top of her, a silent warning that she couldn’t set the pace this time.

  He kissed her, much too softly at first, and she arched against him. He moved her thighs apart and sank into her slowly, and her breath caught as he pulle
d back.

  His way turned out to be a slow torture, with him giving her what she wanted, then pulling almost out of reach and driving her crazy. She wrapped her legs around him and tried to spur him on, but he wouldn’t let her hurry him.

  The desperate intensity was there, but it was in the way he looked at her now. The heat in his eyes mixed with tenderness filled her with so much emotion that had nowhere to go. She pulled him closer with her legs and tried to move her arms, but his hand clamped tighter around her wrists.

  “Daniele.”

  “What?”

  “Relax.”

  She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her like warm water. He rocked into her slowly, deeply, and gradually the tension built.

  And he was right. It was this or nothing. They could never go back to how things were before, not now that they knew about this. It was a seismic shift in their relationship, and the realization filled her with fear and joy, both at the same.

  She tried to relax like he’d told her to. She stopped thinking and simply let herself go, moaning softly as the energy between them swelled and grew, lifting her higher and higher. Finally he released her hands, and she gripped his hips as she surged against him again and again.

  “Scott—” she gasped.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Scott.”

  It kept going and going, higher and higher. Finally, the wave crested and crashed, taking them both down with it as he drove himself into her.

  She lay there, dazed. He rolled away, pulling her with him and settling her against his side. She rested her hand on his chest. Everything receded, every sensation, every sound, with the exception of her thundering heart.

  She was utterly spent. Exhausted. As though days and weeks of stress and trauma were catching up to her. She was dimly aware of Scott’s fingers combing through her hair, but she couldn’t muster a response, not even to stroke her hand over his chest.

  “You good?”

  She would have laughed if she’d had the energy. Instead she whimpered. “So . . . tired,” she whispered.

  He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. “Go to sleep.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Dani woke up by herself. Groggily, she stretched out her hand to confirm it, then lay there, letting the information sink in. There was other information, too. Running water. Thudding cabinets. The tantalizing smell of coffee.

  She heard footsteps in the hallway and turned to face the door as Scott stepped into her bedroom. He was fully dressed right down to his damn boots.

  “Morning.” He set a mug of coffee on the nightstand and gazed down at her.

  “Morning.” She sat up, pulling the sheet against her.

  “I have to go.” He tucked his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and looked uneasy.

  “Okay.”

  “Curtis called. They’ve reviewed my situation, and the director wants to meet with me at eight.”

  She rubbed her eyes and tried to get her brain to process. Curtis. His boss at the Delphi Center. “Will your suspension be lifted?”

  “I’m hoping.” He raked his hand through his hair, and she saw something in his expression she’d never seen before. He was nervous. And clearly he was itching to leave.

  She glanced at the clock. Damn it, how had she slept past seven? She swung her legs out of bed and tried not to feel self-conscious as she crossed the room and grabbed the bathrobe from the hook in her closet.

  “All right, well—”

  “I’ll call you later.”

  She knotted her robe and glanced at the clock again. “I’m going to be busy today. I’m already late, actually.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her mouth, then eased back and gazed down at her. “I’m not blowing you off. I’ll call you, Daniele.”

  She followed him through the house to the front door. He was clearly in a hurry to get to his meeting.

  But she had a feeling there was more to it.

  After he left, she stared at her door for a long time. Then she went back into the bedroom and looked around. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see. He hadn’t left anything behind, not even a dent in the pillow.

  She picked up the coffee and sipped it.

  Black with lots of sugar. Did he know or was that just a guess?

  She huffed out a sigh, disgusted with herself. She was overanalyzing this already, and it had just happened. She stalked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. This was ridiculous. She needed to toughen up and stop being such a girl about everything.

  A sharp rap on her door made her heart lurch. She rushed to answer it.

  Then she saw who it was. She took a deep breath and opened the door for her brother. He was dressed for work in a suit and tie.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Drew stepped inside. “I passed Scott at the stop sign. What—” He halted midsentence as his gaze moved over her, taking in her disheveled hair and bathrobe. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Dani sighed and closed the door.

  “Fuck, Dani.” He gaped at her. “How stupid are you?”

  “Hey, screw you! Get out of my house!”

  “Have you paid any attention the last fifteen years?” Drew rested his hands on his hips and glared at her, looking remarkably like their father.

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Bullshit! You’re my sister.” His face flushed. “He goes through women like chewing gum.”

  “Yeah, so do you.”

  “He’s got PTSD. Are you blind?”

  “No.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “What are you signing up for? You think you can rescue him or some shit? You think you can settle him down?”

  “I’m not talking about this with you. Why are you here, anyway?”

  He glowered at her. Then he took out his phone and checked something, shaking his head the whole time.

  “I’m here to give you a heads-up,” he said tightly. “The feds are all over your case. The US attorney called Rachel this morning. Thought you might want to know your investigation’s about to get taken over.”

  “They can’t do that,” she snapped.

  “Oh, yeah? Watch them.”

  For a moment they said nothing, just stared at each other. Then Drew reached for the door.

  “Thanks for telling me,” she said as he stepped out.

  He turned to look at her, shaking his head. “He’s not going to give you what you want, Dani. I can promise you that.”

  “You don’t know what I want.”

  His face tightened. He turned and stalked down the sidewalk.

  She watched him get into his BMW and pull away, and she had a knot in her stomach because she had a sinking feeling that he was right.

  • • •

  Dani muddled through her whole morning distracted, and after lunch she decided to get out of the office. She grabbed an unmarked unit and headed out to track down some leads.

  Cell phone records from more than two years ago had revealed calls from Ayers and Kreznik to Marco Varela, proving the connection between the dead biologists and the retired polo player who was now breeding horses. Ric was checking into the financials to see if any of the victims had received payments from Varela. And Rey Santos had already come back with the interesting tidbit that Varela was the head of Sunland LLC, which made him the owner of the property Collins had been renting.

  Yet another connection to one of the victims.

  Dani still didn’t feel good, though. She had a better picture of the puzzle now, but many of the pieces still didn’t fit, and some pieces were missing entirely.

  She wanted to talk to Audrey Ayers. Maybe she could shed some light on her husband’s relationship with Varela. But the widow was still MIA, a circumstance that made Dani more than a little antsy.

  Actually, it was giving her an ulcer. She downed the last of her Yoo-Hoo as she rounded a bend in the highway and pulled over in fron
t of 222 Mockingbird Road.

  For a moment she stared at the burned cabin. Behind the charred debris, Dove Lake glistened in the afternoon sun.

  She tucked her phone into her pocket and glanced up and down the street as she slid from her car. She approached the cabin from the side, taking care not to step on any wood or nails. Not much remained inside the house—a sink and a toilet, a few soot-covered appliances in the kitchen. Dani skirted around the main structure and picked her way downhill to the boathouse.

  Kreznik’s fishing boat was a Boston Whaler, about ten feet long. A brown tarp covered it, and Sean was right—it looked as though the cover hadn’t been removed in months, maybe even years. Dani threw the switch for the boat hoist, but nothing happened. Either the electricity was out or the mechanism was broken.

  Just off the dock, she spotted a man motoring past in a small skiff. Dani waved her arms and flagged him down. “Excuse me, sir?” she yelled.

  He glanced around warily, then chugged over to Kreznik’s dock. The man had a silver buzz cut and wore a fishing jacket.

  Dani flashed her badge and introduced herself. “I’m investigating this fire. Do you live around here?”

  “Two houses down.” He nodded at another small cabin on the hillside.

  “What can you tell me about Mike Kreznik?”

  The man rubbed his hand over his chin, looking thoughtful. “He was here an awful lot. Weekdays, weekends, didn’t seem to have a regular schedule. Usually only stayed for a night or so.”

  “Do you know if he liked to fish?”

  “That I don’t.”

  “Did you ever see him take his boat out?”

  The man glanced at the Boston Whaler for a moment. “Can’t say as I did. Nice boat, though.”

  “Yes.”

  Dani’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her pocket to see Sean’s number. “Excuse me, I have to answer this. Thanks for your help.”

  “Sure thing. You have any more questions, you know where to find me.”

  He motored away, and Dani answered the call.

  “Hey, I’m at Kreznik’s cabin. And you’re right, there’s something odd here. I don’t think he uses this place for fishing.”

  “Yeah, I just heard back from the county clerk’s office. Turns out, the cabin isn’t actually his.”