“Like Tara is still there.” Jordan finished the sentence for Ty’s mom, knowing full well everything between them was about to change.
Maggie nodded and her eyes filled with tears. “You blurted out Tara’s name when you were at our house,” she said. “And, well, it seemed like more than . . .”
“I felt her there, too.” The words hadn’t come easily, but they had come. Jordan knew about being desperate for even a little truth when everything around felt like a lie.
Maggie’s breath sobbed out. “It’s her home. I know that’s why I feel her there.”
“No.” Jordan shook her head. “That’s why you’re conscious of feeling her there. It was a place you shared, so it’s familiar to both of you. But the truth is, she’ll be with you wherever you choose to go. Here, or Florida, or somewhere overseas, it doesn’t matter. She won’t ever leave you.”
When Jordan stopped talking, Maggie’s eyes went wide. The tears that she’d somehow managed to hold back finally spilled over and down her cheeks. “When you said her name, I knew something had happened. I knew I couldn’t be the only one that felt her there. Rick says I’m crazy, but I’m not crazy, am I?”
No, Maggie wasn’t crazy. In fact, Jordan decided the only crazy one in the kitchen was her, because she was considering telling Ty’s mom the truth. “I work a lot of cases where violence and death are factors. I don’t know why, I’ve never understood why, but sometimes I can feel the victims.”
“Feel them?” Maggie repeated. “How?”
Damn it. She knew better than to cross this line. “Once they’re gone, sometimes I have visions of what happened.”
“Oh, God. Tara?” Maggie asked. “Did you have a vision of her?”
She’d come too far to back out now. Jordan nodded.
Maggie covered her face with her hands and cried.
What the hell had she been thinking? She’d traumatized Ty’s mom. “Maggie, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything—”
“Yes, you should have.” Maggie took Jordan’s hand. “All I’ve ever wanted was the truth.”
Then why did Jordan feel like such an ass? She got up and grabbed a tissue box.
“Thank you.” Maggie plucked out several tissues. “For months I’ve been thinking that Rick was right, that maybe I am crazy. I just can’t get past the feeling that Tara is trying to tell me something . . .”
Caught halfway between the living and the dead, Jordan would have given a year’s salary to be able to rewind the last few minutes and start over.
“Are you a medium?” Maggie finally asked. “Like a psychic who can talk to the dead?”
“No, not exactly.” Jordan balked at the label. She wasn’t sure why; it was the most accurate term she could come up with. “It’s just the cases I work. Sometimes I can’t help seeing things. I mean . . .” What in the name of hell had made her go this far with Ty’s mom? “I don’t know what I mean.” Embarrassed, Jordan dropped her head in her hands.
Maggie scooted her chair closer and touched Jordan’s back. She sat that way for long enough that Jordan finally looked at her.
“When you lose a child, you find out quickly that nothing will ever be more painful. And even so, I’ve just never felt like she’s gone. I went into her room and those damn pompoms ruffled. I didn’t have the window open and there was no wind or breeze.” Maggie wiped at her eyes. “And every time I walk by that swing of hers . . .”
“She wants you to know she’s okay,” Jordan said. “She wants you to be okay. And she doesn’t want you to sell the farm.” Jordan could hear Tara’s words with stunning clarity. “The night of her death, she had been drugged, so she wasn’t scared and she didn’t suffer.” Jordan knew that wasn’t a hundred percent truthful. But it was exactly what Tara wanted her to say. She understood why, so she said it. “More than anything, she just wants you to know she loves you and that she’ll always be here. Don’t ever think she’s gone or can’t hear you just because you can’t see her.”
Maggie pulled Jordan into a hug. Not a simple thank-you hug, but a mother’s hug.
It had been a long time, but Jordan still remembered the difference.
Part of her wanted to turn and run, but something stronger held her there. “I don’t usually talk about this. Ever. I’m not sure why I did.”
“Because I asked. Because I had to know. I don’t talk about it either because the last time I did, Rick looked at me like I should be locked away in a mental facility.”
Jordan smiled. That was a sentiment she could relate to. “Maybe we don’t mention this to the guys. I’d like to stay out of the mental facility as long as possible, myself.”
“Okay. But can I ask you one last question?”
Jordan nodded. “Anything.”
“Did Tyler finally catch the man who killed Tara because of one of your visions?”
Jordan wasn’t sure how to answer, so she gave the truth that she’d always believed. “I had a vision, and it may have speeded things along, but Ty would have gotten justice for Tara with or without me. That much I’m sure of.”
Chapter 9
Three days later.
“Hey, wake up. Come on, baby.”
Jordan vaguely registered a voice. Ty’s voice, she thought.
“Wake up, Jordan.”
She heard it again, but couldn’t quite manage to wake. Then the soft brush of lips covered hers. Warm and teasing kisses trailed across her cheek and down her neck. She hoped Ty was the one kissing her, because she was enjoying the sensations entirely too much.
She managed to open her eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He grinned. “You were having a dream.”
“Yeah.” She rolled to her side and slid an arm around his warm body. “I was dreaming about these incredible lips and all the wicked things I hoped they’d do to me. But you ruined it.”
“Call me crazy, but based on the struggling and the groans, I don’t think my lips were what you were dreaming about.”
It was much too early to discuss a dream. She decided to distract him with a little playful teasing. “I never said it was your lips making me groan. You’re not the only man in the world, you know.”
Her words earned her a quick pinch on her butt.
“Ouch. You’re mean.”
“If another man’s lips come anywhere near you, even in a dream, trust me, you haven’t encountered my mean side yet.”
“Maybe you should punish me then.” She brushed her fingers down his chest, down his stomach, down the sexy trail of hair that led to the promised land. Then she wrapped her fingers around his warm, thick shaft. “You could remind me of just how thoroughly your lips own me.”
He groaned. “I can’t. It’s after six, babe.”
That was what his words said. But his body said he was thinking about sex. Seriously thinking about sex. She stroked him a couple times, and he hardened in her hand.
“You are just plain evil sometimes. I don’t have time to make love—”
She let go of him and covered his mouth with a finger. “I didn’t ask you to make love, I was merely offering you a chance to compete with the lips in my dream. But I’ll just go back to sleep and fantasize about those other lips.” She rolled over and away from him.
He yanked her hips back and nestled his erection into the seam of her ass.
She smiled. He was right where she wanted him—hard and pressing against her.
He slung a big arm around her and started toying with her nipple. His teeth closed on her earlobe, waking every nerve ending all the way down to her toes. When she shivered, he said, “So tell me, do those other lips make goose bumps spring up all over your body?”
The dull embers he’d stoked even before she opened her eyes were now a full-scale fire. He’d hardly touched her and already she was wet and needy and praying to God he didn’t choose work over her.
“I’m not afraid of a little friendly competition if you need me to remind you how talented my lips are.”
Yes, please! She could think of nothing that would make her happier.
He eased her back to the mattress and brought his lips down on one breast while he palmed and stroked the other. Her nipples hardened into aching, sensitive peaks. He’d vowed to make her come one day just from this, just from his mouth and hands toying with her breasts. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but right now the idea certainly wasn’t out of the question.
His phone chimed with a text message. He rolled away from her long enough to grab the phone, but then dropped it on the bed and returned to her.
“Something important?” she managed.
“Not important enough.”
His answer was evasive. She wondered if it had been Isobel.
But he moved his mouth to her other breast and she figured, fuck it, morning sex rocked. And she wasn’t about to ruin it with ugly thoughts of the redhead. Thankfully, Ty had never walked away from a quick tumble when she offered it.
Of course he hadn’t walked away from Isobel Riley when she offered herself, either.
That thought chilled her libido, as though a bucket of ice had been dumped over her head. She swatted his hand and rolled away. “Go on. Go to work. Stinkerbelle will be worried if you’re late.”
He grabbed her from behind and yanked her against his body again. Then he pulled her leg back and over his hip to gain better access. “Don’t get pissy with me because Isobel entered your mind.”
“Bite me,” she said.
But even as she said it, his sneaky fingers slid between her legs and eased her open. He massaged small circles around her clit and said, “If you insist.” His teeth came down on her neck. One finger speared into her, and after only a few thrusts, he added a second. The pad of his thumb stroked delicate pressure over sensitive nerves. She bowed helplessly against his hand.
“See, my lips aren’t the only body part with talent.” He stopped moving just to make her crazy. “I’ll remind you on a daily basis if I need to.”
He didn’t need to remind her. She was all too aware that the damned man knew exactly how to shoot her to a fast, frantic orgasm. But he rarely did it. He usually preferred to draw things out, make her writhe and beg just a bit. Like right now. He had her body begging for release.
“Ty.” She grabbed his hand in an attempt to get him moving again. But he slid his fingers out, adjusted her leg and ass, and pierced his entire length into her without missing a beat. Her breath rushed out.
“Christ. Okay,” she gasped. “You made your point.”
“Hardly.” He grumbled the word against her ear. “I haven’t even started to make my point yet.”
He pulled all the way out of her and thrust back in. Damned if a bolt of pure pleasure didn’t whip through every cell in her body.
“You teased me about dreaming of someone else’s lips.” He slid out, slammed back home again. “Then taunted me by wrapping your naughty little fingers around me. And just when things were getting good . . .”
Out.
Back in again.
“. . . you tried to brush me off with a smartass comment about Isobel? I. Don’t. Think. So.”
And yes, each word was punctuated by a grinding thrust. She would have been furious if her body hadn’t been singing the Hallelujah Chorus every damn time he slammed into her.
He pulled out, but instead of sliding back in, he got to his knees, rolled her to her stomach, then lifted her hips into the air.
She wound her hands in the sheets, anchoring herself for the force and intense pleasure she prayed was coming next. Ty never disappointed in the bedroom, but his playful roughness clawed at her with a sharp sense of anticipation.
No one but Ty could manage such wicked sex and make it feel so intimate and safe at the same time.
Her breath caught in confusion because he wrapped his hands around her hips but eased himself inside her. None of the quick, hard thrusts her body was aching for, just an easy, teasing glide.
“Tell me the truth, baby. Since you’ve been with me, have you ever dreamed about another man’s lips?” He pushed in a little farther now. Gloriously deep, but painfully slow. “Think carefully.”
She considered saying something to piss him off just to speed the pace, but thought better of it.
“No,” she answered. And—oh God—was rewarded with several deep, hard thrusts.
He stopped, leaned over her, and slid a hand between the mattress and her breast to toy with her nipple again. “You’re done with other men, aren’t you?”
As he asked the question, he kissed a line across her spine.
“Yes,” she cried out. “Yes, Ty. Yes. Please . . .”
His hands clamped around her hips again and he slammed into her with a force that scooted her whole body forward. She reached for the headboard and held tight. The feel of Ty’s big body pounding into her again and again made her cry out his name. He stopped moving and pulled her back up against his chest. “You’re all mine.”
Unable to form meaningful words, she nodded and angled her head to absorb the full impact of his lips.
His tongue dipped in and out of her mouth. One hand moved between her legs, the other to her breast. His big body was all around her, teasing and tormenting as he drove into her from behind.
Nerves she never knew existed were trembling on a tightly strung wire of anticipation. She moaned—not his name or anything coherent this time, just a helpless whimper betraying the need to feel him everywhere.
Sweat slicked between them in heated streaks. His breath rushed across her neck in warm hitches. The simple morning tumble had taken a wild and delicious turn.
“Tell me you’re done with other guys, and I’ll make you come so hard you’ll lose consciousness,” he teased.
His phone rang. He’d dropped it next to them in the bed.
Jordan looked down. Issy was lit up in big glowing letters.
Seeing the cutesy nickname programed on his phone at the same time he was buried balls deep inside of her set her on fire. “It doesn’t seem fair that I can’t screw anyone else when you’re spending all this time with a woman you banged.”
It was a horrible, pissy thing to say, especially when Ty was still inside her and well on his way to delivering one of the most mind-bending orgasms she’d ever experienced. But damn it, why couldn’t he see the truth about Isobel Riley?
Her head was having a hell of a time overruling her body, because as mad as she was, she still felt the clawing, desperate need for release.
But his phone rang again.
And again Issy lit up on the screen.
God damn it. The fucking redhead had radar that knew exactly how to blow up their most intimate moments. She twisted and jerked out of his hold.
But Ty had always had good reflexes. He caught her around the waist and tumbled her back on the bed. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” He rolled on top of her and pinned her arms to the mattress. His forehead dropped against hers. “You damn well know I work with her and that’s it. How many fucking ways do I have to say it?”
“Maybe you ought to try saying it to her, because she obviously doesn’t get it. It’s not even six thirty a.m., Ty. What the hell could be so important that she needs you at this hour?”
“I am in the middle of a homicide.”
“Whatever. Then don’t let me stand in the way.” She jerked against his hold.
For a long angry moment, he glared like he wasn’t going to budge. And from her position, she didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting the upper hand.
But his phone chimed again. She knew it was Isobel again because instead of answering it, he picked it up and flung it against the wall.
It hit with a loud thud and crashed to the floor.
“Is that better? What else do you want me to do? Resign from this case? Quit my job, maybe? You let me know what it’s going to take to make you happy.”
“Instead of trashing your phone, why don’t you try making an arrest and getting I
sobel the hell out of town?” she spat back at him.
He sprang from the bed and threw on a pair of shorts. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that? I’ll just grab the first guy who comes along and arrest him. Who the hell cares about evidence, right?”
“How much fucking evidence do you need? David Benson all but admitted to it. Even your girlfriend thinks he’s guilty.”
“I swear to God, if you call her my girlfriend one more fucking time, I’m going to lose it. Seriously. Fucking. Lose it.” He plowed his hands back through his hair. “It’s a damn good thing David Benson isn’t counting on you or Isobel to find the truth. Fucking irrational women.”
“We may be women, and we may hate each other, but at least we both know the truth when it smacks us in the head.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You know next to nothing about this case, so why the hell are you so certain . . .” Ty drug his hands through his hair again and closed his eyes. “Holy shit. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Tell me your dreams have not been about David Benson.”
“They haven’t.” She snapped the words out. But Ty was furious and she had a sinking feeling that she was screwed. Her stomach twisted as dread clung to her insides.
Omitting the truth was one thing, but she couldn’t outright lie to him. “They’ve been about a girl,” she murmured. “Her name was Hailey.”
Ty paced around in a circle, likely scoping out the next handy object to sling against the wall. After a few angry laps, he stopped. “I’m going to ask you this one time and one time only. You better tell me the truth. Did you see David Benson kill Hailey King in a dream?”
She swallowed. Hard. Then nodded. “Yes. But I didn’t know it was your case at first.”
“But you figured it out.” He took a step back as the truth apparently started to fall into place for him. “And you figured it out Sunday when you saw David Benson in my office, didn’t you?”
She nodded again.
“Three days you’ve known, and you haven’t said a thing. How the hell could you do that?”
“Because . . .” She was unsure of the best way to defend her choice. “Because I’ve never let my dreams influence another cop’s decisions. Especially decisions as important as arresting a suspect for murder. What if I’m wrong?”
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