by Rita Herron
“Olivia, no—”
“You got the results from my tests, didn’t you, Craig?”
His gaze latched on to hers, held for a long moment, a flicker of regret and sorrow betraying his calm. That slight reaction wrenched her heart, but confirmed what she already knew. The voices that had been whispering to her were real.
And soon she would be dead.
No, she would fight it.
But if death were her fate, she deserved to know the truth first.
She gestured toward Jerry, barely managing to stand as the ringing in her ears intensified. “I have a right to hear what he has to say.”
Craig gave her another anguished look, but it faded as he faced Jerry. “Mr. Renard, each of the suicide victims in Savannah has been diagnosed with a rare and unidentified virus that we now believe was part of a terrorist attack. You gave Olivia a box of truffles that contains the germ for that virus.” He paused, his voice lowering to a lethal pitch. “You are not only under suspicion of four murders so far, but unless you tell us everything you know about the virus—”
“You may be looking at one more,” Olivia finished. “And I don’t intend to die without finding out the reason.”
Chapter Fifteen
Craig studied Renard’s body language. The shocked expression. The instant beading of sweat on his upper lip. The wild-eyed panic.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Renard protested. “I don’t know anything about a virus.”
Which would be true if the man was innocent. So far, by some miracle, the police had kept it from leaking to the press and the public. But Craig wasn’t convinced Renard was telling the truth
“That virus has mysterious consequences. You hand-delivered the package that infected Olivia. I was there when you gave it to her, remember?” He clutched the shaking man by the collar. “And you had the audacity to act concerned about her while you gave it to her. Why did you infect her, Renard? To get the story? Or are you working for a terrorist group?”
“Whoa…” Renard held up a hand, the college ring on his third finger glimmering under the bold light. “I was investigating a terrorist group, but I’m certainly not a member of it.”
“What group is it and where is the cell located?”
“I don’t have enough yet to know for sure if they’re planning anything—”
“The name and location.” Craig released him abruptly, then shoved a pen and pad in front of Renard. Renard scribbled an address of a local warehouse.
“Your contact?”
“A hooker named Candy. She met this guy, Gustav Vironsky, and overheard a cell phone conversation between him and another man that sounded suspicious,” Renard replied. “But she doesn’t know the leader and isn’t involved herself.”
“Does the name Iska Milaski sound familiar?”
Renard hesitated, the pencil point breaking beneath his grip. “I’ve heard the name, but never met him.”
Craig clenched his collar again. “Now, about the virus. Where did it come from?”
“I told you I don’t know,” Renard exclaimed.
Olivia paced in front of him. “For God’s sake, Jerry, you tried to kill me and now you’re denying it—”
“I didn’t send the chocolates,” Renard said, his shoulders slumping slightly. “When we received word at the paper that you were injured, the secretary ordered the balloons.”
“And the candy?” Craig asked.
Renard scrubbed a hand over his reddening face. “The box was delivered earlier that day for Olivia. I…when I saw it, I grabbed it and pretended it was from me.”
Olivia looked appalled. “Why would you do that?”
Renard ducked his head slightly. “I thought you were on to a big story. I was hoping that if I played nice to you, you might let me in on it.”
Craig hissed in disgust. “You have no scruples when getting a story, right, Renard? You’ll even stoop to using your friends.”
Renard shifted nervously. “The end justifies the means.” He faced Olivia. “Don’t look at me that way. You’d do the same thing, and you know it.”
Olivia swallowed and shook her head. “I have morals, Jerry.”
“But you still use people. That’s why you’re in bed with the feds now, isn’t it?” Renard snarled. “For a story.”
Craig glared at him, seeing the calculatingor what he was. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to punch him out.
But Renard’s words rose to haunt Craig. The end justifies the means. Hadn’t he always told himself the same thing? And he and Olivia had made a deal…but they hadn’t slept together.
Not yet, anyway.
Olivia didn’t bother to restrain herself, though. She slapped Renard’s face, the sharp blow resounding through the room. Renard’s stunned look was almost funny.
“Who delivered the chocolates?” Craig asked, his mouth twitching as Renard rubbed his red jaw.
“Some guy from a local delivery service,” Renard grunted.
“Did the box come with a card?”
“No. It simply had Olivia’s name on it.”
Craig rammed a finger in Renard’s chest. The perp had intentionally targeted Olivia. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back. And don’t touch her.” He gave Olivia a long sideways look, then exited and met Detective Black in the adjoining room.
“I’ll check out the delivery service,” Black said. “And I’ve already checked this guy’s record, Horn. He’s been caught lying to the police before.”
Fury sparked Craig’s blood as he rushed back to the interrogation room. Olivia had taken a seat at the table opposite Renard, her skepticism and distrust of Renard obvious by her rigid posture and the distance she kept between them.
Good. Whether Renard was telling the truth or not, he didn’t want her anywhere near the bastard.
OLIVIA DIDN’T BAT AN EYE when Craig ordered Jerry to be tossed into a holding cell for the night, although Jerry protested that he was innocent and they were violating his rights.
“Damn man will learn something about rights in the pen,” Craig growled.
Olivia nodded, but Jerry’s comments bothered her. She and Craig had cut a deal about the story. And they had come close to jumping into bed together.
But she hadn’t wanted to make love to Craig for the story…
What about him? Was he simply using her?
She continued to silently ponder the case while Craig accompanied the team that had been dispatched to the address Jerry had given them. Detective Fox offered her a notepad, and she scribbled notes and ideas for the article she planned to write when the investigation ended…if she lived that long.
What would be her angle?
The families of the victims? The terrorist cell and its justification for taking innocent lives? The threat of chemical and germ warfare and the ramifications on the governments and people involved?
The personal fear of the public when they discovered information had been withheld from them? Or her personal fear as a victim herself?
The dark clouds of terror engulfed her, the chatter of the officers in the precinct and the hiss of perpetrators being brought in echoing around her as if she’d fallen into a dark abyss and would never escape. The odor of stale coffee and body sweat permeated the room, the sounds of vile language and snickers from a prisoner adding to the clamor of gloomy reality.
Craig and the other detectives strode into the precinct, their expressions grim.
She stood abruptly. “Did you find Milaski?”
Craig shook his head. “The warehouse was empty. Someone must have tipped them off.”
The muscles at the back of her neck knotted. Time was closing in, yet they were no nearer finding the truth than they had been the day the first Savannah suicide victim had taken his life.
“I’ve phoned Devlin to update him,” Craig said. “Maybe he has another lead. Then I’ll take you home to rest.”
She offered him a faint smile, although ho
pe dwindled with every passing minute.
Craig and the detectives conferred while she gathered her notes. Too exhausted to argue, she went willingly with Craig when he insisted he drive her back to his cabin. The stirrings of fear mingled with images of death as she drifted to sleep inside the car. Then suddenly the car stopped, and she felt Craig’s hands go around her shoulders. She struggled to wake up, but Craig lifted her and carried her inside his cabin.
The dim light of the lamp bathed the room in a soft glow as he placed her on the bed. Her head throbbed, and her ears were ringing with the incessant voices.
You’ll be next, Olivia. You can already feel the illness threading through your veins. Plucking at your rational thoughts. Tossing shadows in front of your eyes. Making you see that life after death is a reprieve from the loneliness and pain.
Suddenly aching and afraid to be alone, she clutched at Craig’s arm. “Please don’t leave me.”
Craig lowered himself beside her and cradled her against him. “I won’t go, Olivia. Don’t worry, go to sleep.”
She cuddled into the covers, savoring the warmth of his muscular arms around her, and did as he said. Curling up against his strong hard body felt like a forbidden pleasure, but for once in her life, she allowed herself the privilege of physical comfort.
In her dreams, the demons tore her from his arms and threw her into a fiery pit. Her father waited, burning among the ashes, his pain-filled pleas piercing the night. Her mother hovered somewhere beyond, looking angelic, but just as she reached for Olivia to save her, Olivia fell into the scorching flames.
CRAIG CRADLED Olivia to him, his heart racing as he contemplated the fact that she might die.
It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t let it happen.
He’d failed his sister and Olivia’s father. But he couldn’t fail Olivia. She didn’t deserve this fate.
She cried out, trembling against him, and tendrils of fear and admiration, along with primal protective instincts, were roused within him. He hadn’t meant to fall for her. Had vowed he wouldn’t.
But he’d never met anyone like Olivia. Gutsy. Strong. Persistent. Sexy as hell.
And his time with her might be short-lived.
He smoothed the hair from her cheek and caressed her soft skin, drinking in the sweet smell of her shampoo and body fragrance. Olivia was a bright light in the dark world that had become his life. He’d seen the depravities of mankind, watched the weak fall. Seen innocents killed in the name of revenge. Seen the consequences of this virus.
He’d always thought getting involved would endanger the woman he was with, that she wouldn’t be strong enough to stand up to the challenge.
But not Olivia.
Except this time, the challenge might beat her. Might beat them both.
The clock was ticking. The virus attacked quickly. They might only have days… And the virus wasn’t transmitted through human contact, not like AIDS.
She opened her eyes, the fear dissipating slightly as their gazes connected.
“Craig?”
Her voice sounded like a featherlight whisper. “Yeah?”
She gently pressed one hand on his cheek, her lips parted, then she kissed him. Her lips felt like rose petals, the silky softness gliding against his mouth in a slow sensual torture that triggered his own need. “Thanks for staying with me.”
“God, Olivia…” He lowered his head against hers, felt her breath bathe his neck, the hunger in her sigh as she brushed another kiss across the underside of his chin. He was drowning in desire.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he ground out.
She made a soft sound of denial, then yearning rose in the depth of her eyes. “Let’s forget the investigation tonight,” she whispered.
How could he not think about it?
“Just make me feel alive, Craig.”
“I’m not going to let you die,” he promised. A groan erupted from within him as he cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. “Don’t even think like that, do you hear me?”
“Please, Craig. I just want you…to make me feel tonight.”
The dam of control he normally kept erected split and burst open. He had to have her. “I want you, too, Olivia.” He traced a finger over her lips, feeling them swell beneath his touch. “Don’t think of this as the last time, but as the first.”
With that husky promise, he claimed her mouth in a sensual foray that sent desire rippling through his loins. He instantly hardened, desperate hunger nearly choking him. But he had to give Olivia pleasure. Had to make her feel loved, that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted another woman. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he whispered.
Olivia sighed and pressed her fingers deep into his back, pulling him harder against her. “I need you inside me, Craig.”
Her soft admission nearly put him over the edge, but he’d waited too long to rush, so he whispered sultry words, promises of what he would do to her as he slowly peeled away her blouse. Then he dropped tender kisses along her jaw and neck, and slowly, almost reverently, kissed the outside of her scar. She blushed and tried to cover herself, but he shook his head. “You’re absolutely beautiful. Perfect.” He nuzzled her neck, his voice a husky whisper. “But tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t.” Desire softened her eyes as she smiled at him. Then he tasted the sensitive skin of her ear, teasing her until she buckled beneath him. “I need you, Craig.”
He dove back to take her mouth in a virtual frenzy of passionate kisses, each one deeper and longer, each one driving home the fact that he wanted to be inside her, that he soon would be.
She moaned and clawed her fingers through his hair, dragging him closer, sliding her leg in between his to tease him. The satiny strands of hair tickled his nose, invited his hands to play in the tresses and he did. Her breasts swelled into his chest, the turgid peaks begging for his touch. Unable to withstand the torture any longer, he lowered his head, skimmed kisses along the top of her bra, pried the lace away with his teeth, then sank into heaven by closing his mouth around a tight nipple. He licked and suckled it, plucking her other nipple with his finger as he wedged his leg between her thighs. She spread her legs for him, writhed into his hardness, tore at his clothes until he rose and stripped off the layers that separated them, leaving only skin and heart and soul between them.
The sight of her naked before him was incredible—her eyes glowing with wanton desires, her breathing labored as she offered herself to him, and he loved her all over, kissing and licking down to her belly, the firm calf that led upward to the secrets he wanted to explore. But he moved slowly, tasting every inch, planting long tender kisses along her inner thighs until she cried out.
“Craig, please, I need you.”
“I need you, too.” He dipped his head and pressed his tongue to her center, teasing and inciting her with each stroke until she shuddered, and he felt the sweet bliss of her release.
She reached for him, begged him closer, and he slid on a condom, then moved over her, allowing only a brief hesitation for her to adjust to his size before he thrust inside her. The pleasure was so intense, the pain of waiting excruciating, but the reward more earth-shattering and titillating than he’d ever imagined.
Tonight might have to last them both forever.
No, he stifled the thought, sank himself into her again, then withdrew his erection and teased her honeyed folds, stroking slowly and sliding into her as he cupped and lifted her hips to fill her more completely. She clawed at his back, then wrapped her legs around him, biting at his neck as his lips skated over her mouth. Erotic sensations ebbed and flowed, burned within him, reached a crescendo as she came apart in his arms again. Groaning in pleasure, he finally allowed himself to climax. She cried out again as her body tightened and convulsed around him, then sensations spiraled through him as they rode the wave of ecstasy together.
Olivia had never felt so loved in her entire life. She wrapped herself around Craig,
shutting out her fears temporarily as the aftermath of their lovemaking settled over her. A thousand blissful, tingling sensations traveled along her nerve endings, pure erotic pleasure seeping through her.
“That was wonderful, Craig.”
He gently feathered her hair from her cheek and kissed her again. “Yeah, and remember what I said,” he whispered. “That was only the beginning.”
Sadness threatened to steal her joy, but she banished it. If she only had a short time to live, she wanted every second to count. She was in love with Craig. She supposed she had been for some time.
But she couldn’t declare her love now, not when she might be dying.
The evil voices whispered again from the far recesses of her mind, warring for space in her head, but she shut them out.
As if he read her thoughts, he swept her into his arms and kissed her again, this time slowly, methodically, as if his touch could erase any pain or any lingering doubt that they were meant to be together.
She pushed him to his back, determined to show him that she wasn’t giving in to the illness yet, that she was the same strong woman he had first met.
“Is your shoulder all right?” he murmured.
“Everything’s perfect.” She trailed her finger over his chest, playing with the thick tufts of dark hair, following the trail down to where his arousal pulsed between her legs. One touch sent her body into a frenzy of heated desire, shuddering and begging for more.
He groaned, a primal hunger darkening his eyes as he cupped her breasts in his palms. She swayed and let him suckle her, then dipped her head and kissed a path down his belly until her lips closed over his swollen sex.
His groan of approval ignited heat within her belly, the thick hardness of him filling her mouth as heady as when he’d been inside her. Finally, when he could take it no more, she impaled herself on him, her body clenching with erotic sensations as she rode him, her release even more intense this time at the sight of the pleasure in his eyes.
They made love again and again through the night, the final time in the early morning hours just before dawn peeked through the sky. And as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the shades, she curled up next to him and fell asleep. Nestled safely in his arms, lying sated by his side, she dreamed of tomorrow.