Twisted Threads (A Cape Trouble Novel Book 3)

by Janice Kay Johnson

He shook his head. “If it’s raining, I usually stop at the gym.”

  It was definitely raining. Not hammering on the roof, but coming down steadily. Typical March day on the Oregon coast. Spring hadn’t made much of an appearance yet. No way he could have stopped at the gym. He’d been too anxious to pick up Emily.

  “I do have one,” she reminded him. “We could go over to my house—”

  He was already shaking his head. “I don’t want to get wet.” Or usher her through the dark night, even for such a short distance.

  “You think he might break in here.”

  Sean exhaled hard. “No. I don’t think he’s that stupid.”

  “But he kept coming after me that first time even after I’d started screaming.”

  “Okay, you’re right. But that wasn’t stupid planning, it was panic on his part.”

  Emily nodded slowly, her eyes grave. “Do you always get so…I don’t know, worked up about investigations?”

  “Worked up? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Wrinkles appeared in her forehead. “You said it was making you crazy.”

  “I said you were making me crazy,” he shot back. And, God help him, it was all he could do to stand in one place right now. The need to move, to do something, consumed him.

  He had to get the idea of making desperate, life-altering love to her out of his head. It wasn’t happening. Not when she wouldn’t admit she wasn’t still in deep mourning.

  “You didn’t even know me when this started,” she continued. “And even so, you were willing to do almost anything to protect me.” She was thinking hard, which made him uneasy.

  “I’m a cop.”

  “You’ve gone way above and beyond.”

  He couldn’t argue, since he had every intention of insisting she sleep again in his bed. Yeah, there was an exercise in stress reduction.

  He also couldn’t say, I think I’m in love with you. It was too soon, and while she was in danger and dependent on him for her safety was no time for him to get pushy about their personal relationship.

  All he had to do was imagine her reaction if he said that word: relationship. Forget ‘love’.

  But he had to be honest, at least to a point. “You were never just a neighbor, like Gus Rumbaugh or Mrs. Shoop,” he said. “You caught my interest from the beginning. By the time of the first break-in, we’d spent some time together.”

  Was her mouth curving, just a little bit? “That first time we ran together, would you have left me behind on the beach if I’d been gasping for air half a mile along?”

  Sean grinned, some of his tension waning. “Probably not.”

  “I had a suspicion,” she said drily – then nothing else. She just kept watching him, her hands idle. She wasn’t satisfied.

  He rolled his shoulders in a futile attempt to release tension. “You…triggered something in me,” he said finally.

  Her cheeks were pink, but she said, “Lust?”

  He forced himself to return to the sofa. Once he’d sat down, instead of pretending to relax, he leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs, hands dangling. “Definitely lust. And more.” You weren’t going there, remember? “But that’s not what I was talking about.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, about the trigger. I guess this is the first time since my brother was killed that someone I really care about has been in danger.”

  The smile had faded from Emily’s lips by the time he finished that little speech. He felt twitchy again at the way she was looking at him, as if she could see well beneath the surface.

  “You knew ahead of time that he was in danger,” she said.

  Either he’d betrayed more than he meant to, or she was a mind-reader.

  He let his head fall forward for a minute. “Yeah,” he said. “The asshole who killed him had been making threats.” Then he frowned and looked up. “Sorry for the language.”

  She only shook her head. “What kind of threats? Had your brother gone to the police?”

  “Once. The guy had graduated from the high school a couple years before, but was still hanging around. Living at home, working at an auto body shop. Wherever Dani was, he popped up.”

  “He was stalking her.”

  “Yes, but he hadn’t done anything overtly threatening. He stared a lot. A couple of times he approached her, said he missed her and she should dump the other guy. If she didn’t, she’d be sorry.” He grimaced. “She interpreted that as, ‘You’ll miss me as much as I miss you’ instead of ‘Blood will flow.’”

  “I take it she’s the one who broke up with him.”

  “Yeah.” Sean had never seen what Matt did in Dani. Truth was, once the boyfriend had graduated, she’d lost interest and hooked up with Matt instead. Quarterback of the football team, smart guy who was aiming for Stanford and, eventually, medical school. He and Sean had looked enough alike people saw that they were brothers, but Matt was the handsome one. Smarter, too, Sean thought, without any sting. “I don’t think either Matt or Dani were all that serious. Matt felt protective. He was more afraid for Dani than for himself.”

  Emily nodded. “I can see why he’d assume she was one in danger if either of them was.”

  “Rich—” Sean stopped, then said with loathing, “His name is Rich Latimer. He apparently imagined himself in love with her ’til death do them part.”

  Emily winced.

  “Apparently it wasn’t his death he had in mind,” Sean said in a hard voice.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Emily asked softly.

  He was suddenly on his feet without making a conscious decision to stand up. “It was late in football season.” He’d never forget the date. The time. “I’d been at practice, too, but...” God, he hoped she didn’t notice his hesitation. “I stayed to hang out with some people.” To flirt with Chloe Wardell. “Mom called to check on us. Matt should have been home long since, so one of my buddies took me to check out the parking lot at the high school, then drive home the way we both usually did. We found his car at a stop sign.” Fuck. He was back to pacing. “He’d been dragged out, beaten to death. The police later figured out Rich had used a tire iron. Found it in his trunk with traces of Matt’s blood he’d failed to hose off.”

  “Oh, Sean,” Emily whispered. “For you to be the one to find him…”

  “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “It was…” He shook his head, refusing to finish the sentence.

  The way she studied him, he felt like a crystal ball. She was the witch.

  “You feel guilty,” she said slowly, as if a vision was taking on substance before her eyes. Then her eyes sharpened on him. “Why?”

  He’d never told his parents this part of the story. Not the police. Not anyone. But…Emily had opened herself to him in ways that had to be excruciating. If he wanted…whatever he wanted with her, how could he do less?

  “I was supposed to be with him.” It came out abrupt, and just hung there in the air, his secret shame.

  She blinked. “You mean, you usually got a ride with him?”

  He shook his head, nodded, then yanked viciously at his hair. “I had my own car. Yeah, we drove together sometimes. But after Rich started getting down and dirty with his threats, I promised Matt I’d have his back. We either went to and from together, or if I had my own car for some reason, I rode his bumper home. That day— That day, I made a joke. Said, ‘You can make it by yourself, can’t you?’ Because this girl I’d had my eye on was hanging around. And—” his throat had clogged “—I was tired of playing bodyguard. I’d decided Rich was all talk.”

  Emily rose in a rush, dropping quilt and hoop to the floor, and came to him. She grabbed his hand and held on tight, compassion he hadn’t known he craved in her eyes. “You were a boy. How long had you been guarding him?”

  “Weeks. I don’t know.” He shook his head, hating the burn in his sinuses. “Long enough, I could blow him off. My own brother.”

  “Did he say anything? Or…do anything?”

  “Y
ou mean, look reproachful? Betrayed? No.” He swallowed hard. “He kind of shrugged and said, ‘Yeah, I think I can handle it.’”

  Words burned into his memory.

  “Oh, Sean.” Emily wrapped her arms around his torso and laid her head against his shoulder.

  He put his arms around her, too, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Closing his eyes, he breathed her in. The hint of sweetness, the herbal tang. And something he could only define as her. Her warmth penetrated where he was cold. She was both taut and soft against him. Everything he needed. They stood there for a long time, not speaking.

  He heard a mumble at last, and lifted his head. “What?”

  “I said, you know that Rich person was just waiting for his chance. If you’d been there that day, another day would have come when you couldn’t be, or when he tricked your brother into meeting him.”

  Sean started to stiffen, but she squeezed him.

  “Think like an adult, not a guilt-ravaged boy.”

  He didn’t really have to. Rationally, he knew she was right. Some of his anger the day Arianna Keezer had gone missing had been directed at her friends, none of whom had gone to a parent or teacher and said, I’m scared for my friend. The frustration that hit him had been…an echo, maybe, of his own guilt. He and Matt genuinely had believed the threat from Rich Latimer was real. So what did they do? Go to their parents? Talk to their coach, who’d known Rich, too? Follow up with the cops and say, We think he means it? Hell, no. All macho swagger, they’d determined they could handle it. Sixteen- and seventeen-year-old boys.

  He discovered he was breathing easier, and, miraculously, hadn’t actually leaked any tears. In the nature of an experiment, he let himself see Matt in a way he usually blocked. That last, eye-rolling look. Had Matt ever really believed he needed backup, or had Sean thrown himself heart and soul into the role because, yeah, he was a teenager, with all the drama that implied?

  Maybe, he thought cautiously, but couldn’t entirely let go of the knowledge that he had failed his brother. He’d made a promise he didn’t keep, and swore he’d never let anyone down again.

  Especially, he thought now, this woman.

  Was it some kind of karma? Here he finally loved, and it had to be a woman whose life was threatened? Maybe in a cosmic sense he was being given a do-over.

  Losing Matt had altered the course of his life. Losing Emily, he thought, would bring him down.

  And he’d wondered why she couldn’t just get over the deaths of her husband and son? It was almost funny.

  He tried to ease back. Feeling her body melting into his had had the inevitable consequence, and he didn’t want her to notice. But her arms tightened, as if she refused to let him go.

  The next moment, as if it had occurred to her that he sought to escape, she let her arms fall and took a hasty backwards step. Sean couldn’t seem to make himself release her entirely. His hands had settled on her upper arms. His fingers flexed, and he ached.

  He hated to see her expression, but when he made himself meet her gaze, it was to see her hazel eyes darkened, heavy-lidded, her cheeks rosy. Her face was a perfect oval, bones just defined enough to let him know she’d stay beautiful with age.

  He’d meant to apologize. Instead, voice husky, he said, “Emily?”

  Her tongue touched her lips. She was going to say, I’m not ready. How many times had she used the same words?

  “Will you kiss me?”

  It took him a second to take in what she’d said. He kneaded her upper arms, sweating at the idea of having to let her go—

  Awareness slammed into him. She hadn’t said no. She’d asked him to kiss her.

  “Yeah.” His voice was barely recognizable as his own. “I can’t think of anything I want to do more.”

  He bent his head slowly, drinking in the sight of her face tilted up to his, slumberous with arousal. Be gentle, he told himself, and instead took her mouth with fierce, hungry need that she answered. She kissed him with as much urgency, using lips, tongue and teeth. As he gripped her hips, lifting her, she locked her arms around his neck. He’d never gone up so fast. Her hips rocked, and, desperate, he ground himself against her.

  He managed to free one hand to wrench the hem of her shirt up. He got it as far as her armpits before it sank in that he’d have to back off to pull it over her head, and he wasn’t about to do that. So he abandoned the shirt in favor of unhooking her bra. God, he loved the feel of her back, long and sleek, silky and strong, the underlying structure delicate. His hand kept moving, beneath the band of her stretchy yoga pants as well as her panties, until he cupped one round cheek of her butt. He squeezed, and she made that little, whimpering sound he remembered from their last kiss. It had to be the single sexiest sound he’d ever heard.

  He scooped her up and started for the bedroom, to hell with the lights. Locks were something he didn’t have to worry about; he checked them compulsively these days, never went in or out of a door without locking.

  Her braid flopped over his arm, and he got even harder at the idea of freeing that mass of thick, dark silk. She kissed his throat. He’d have sworn he felt the damp touch of her tongue.

  But instead of laying her on his bed, he let her slip out of his arms onto her own two feet. Then he took a hard grip on his libido and lifted his head.

  “Emily.”

  She looked up, dazed. Her slender, strong hands kneaded his shoulders.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  He saw her blinking, trying to comprehend. Fear seized him as he waited while her expression cleared. God, if she asked him to stop—

  But, suddenly shy, she nodded.

  Exultant, he grinned, lifted her again and damn near threw her onto the bed, coming down beside her. Before he knew it, she climbed on top of him, laughing. This time it was his heart that clenched. She was happy. He wanted to keep her happy. Forever.

  Then she wriggled a little, enough to straddle him so that she rode his erection. Lust swamped his brain. He yanked her shirt over her head, taking the already loose bra with it and tossed them aside, then just let himself look.

  “Perfect,” he whispered, lifting his hands to her generous breasts. Her nipples pressed against his palms and she let her head fall back so she made a glorious, sensual sight. Long, white torso, slim and tight with smooth muscles, lusciously full breasts with dark, hard peaks, slim shoulders and a graceful neck.

  The fat braid lay across his arm.

  Somehow he persuaded himself to release her breasts, tug the elastic from the end of the braid, and begin combing his fingers through her hair, separating the twined strands until he reached her nape. She had lifted her head so she could watch him, her lips slightly parted, the green-gold of her eyes a witch’s brew. He’d have sworn she didn’t so much as blink.

  When he was done, the whole mass of curls tumbled over her shoulders and breasts, over his hands and arms. It had to be waist-long. He kept sliding his fingers through it, reveling in the texture. Her breasts peeked through the dark waterfall. She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

  Suddenly, his patience snapped and he pulled her down for a voracious kiss, wet and frantic. He flipped her so he was on top, then flipped them again, his hips surging up when her thighs tightened around him.

  Should have gotten her naked first.

  Should have gotten himself naked first.

  This kiss exploded until he was too damn close to coming. He flipped her one more time and went to work on her shoes, socks, then stretchy pants and skimpy black panties. The sight of the silky dark triangle of hair over her mound maddened him.

  All the while he was stripping her, Emily half-sat and did the same for him. As she eased the zipper down, he sucked in his belly and gritted his teeth. The delicate dance of fingers felt so good he went utterly still for a moment. When she found bare skin, he didn’t dare let her stroke his full length more than once before he said gutturally, “No more,” and slid off the bed. He wrenched off shoes withou
t even untying them, followed by pants and shorts, then had the small remaining brain power to scrabble in the drawer of his bedside stand for a condom.

  As unblinking as she’d been when he freed her hair, she watched him sheath himself. Once he was done, her eyes heavy-lidded and dreamy, Emily held her arms out for him in a welcome that felt better than anything ever had in his life.

  He took one of her nipples into his mouth, the rhythmic tug making her hips rise to press against him. Sean moved to the other breast, his hand slipping down to stroke between her folds. He pressed a finger into her, then two. Little cries broke from her throat. He couldn’t wait for another second.

  She was tight, but so ready he slid right in, pushing deep, then doing it again. Her thighs clasped him tight and her heels dug into the bed as she lifted her whole body to meet each thrust. Head back, eyes closed, she whimpered, the little sound almost more than he could stand.

  He gritted his teeth, trying to hold on, wait, wait…

  Suddenly her eyes opened. “Sean? Please. That feels— Ohhh.”

  Her body convulsed around him, and he sank into her and let himself go, hearing himself call her name as a shuddering release went on forever.

  *****

  Emily knew when Sean got out of bed, presumably to get rid of the condom, although then she heard him pad down the hall. Lights, her sleepy brain provided. He had left the bathroom light on, the door ajar an inch or two as a sort of nightlight, just as he’d done the other night she slept in his bed. When he came back, he set something down on the bedside stand with a soft thump. The glow from the bathroom allowed her to see that he’d placed his gun within reach. Once that would have horrified her. Now, it was reassuring.

  Still naked, he slipped back beneath the covers and gathered her into his arms. Snuggling close, she reveled in his heat and the powerful muscles in his chest and those arms that held her. She’d lain alone on her own side of the bed for so long, the comfort of a man’s embrace was only a distant memory.

  The thought gave her a sharp twinge. Oh, Tom… But she knew in her heart that Tom would be smiling, because she’d had at least a glimpse of happiness for the first time in too long.