Darker Than Desire

by Shiloh Walker

  Sighing, he straightened and slanted a look down at the slim black woman. “Paul Bunyan. Giant, with an ox and an ax?”

  “You’re probably as stubborn as an ox.” She curled her lip, craning her head to glare up at him. “And you’re standing up there like a damn giant instead of moving your ass down here. So yeah. Paul Bunyan.”

  He went to shove a hand through his hair, but pain shrieked through him and the limited range of motion had him lowering his arm. Finally, he hopped down off the bed of the truck to stand in front of her. What in the hell does she want?

  She was a nurse; he remembered that. Had taken care of Max—the name clicked a minute later. Taneisha. Fuck.

  Running his tongue around his teeth, he turned away. “I’m busy, ma’am.”

  “You and your busy self can shut the hell up,” she snapped, marching around and planting her body in front of him.

  She was built like an amazon—nearly six feet in her tennis shoes and she was all long, lean curves. The look in her eye told him that if he wanted her to move he’d have to move her.

  Pissed off as he was, he wasn’t about to go that far.

  “I’ve got things to do,” he said, cutting off the sidewalk to go around her.

  “You couldn’t even take five minutes,” she said softly. It was the sheer lack of fury in her voice that had him going still. “Five minutes out of your busy day to call her and tell her what happened. She heard it from me, and the way she looked, you’d think I’d punched her right in the gut.”

  Guilt grabbed him by the throat and he spun around, already snarling. “Then why the fuck did you tell her?”

  “Did you think she wouldn’t hear?”

  If his fury scared or startled her, Taneisha didn’t let it show. She closed the distance between them and slammed the heel of her hand against his chest. “Have you seen the size of this town, David? It didn’t grow much in the past twenty years. What did you think would happen? You’d get shot and nobody would talk about it?”

  He opened his mouth. Closed it.

  “Or did you think she wouldn’t care?” Taneisha’s voice was softer this time and the look in her eyes had him wanting to just jerk back. Get away. Put some serious miles between him and those dark, knowing eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? Some part of you thought maybe this wasn’t that serious for her. If it isn’t serious, it wouldn’t matter that much to her, right?”

  “There’s nothing—”

  “Don’t.” Taneisha shook her head. “You don’t look at me and lie to me that way. Maybe on your part, you look at it and see nothing. But that’s because you’re blind. But hey…” She shrugged and turned away. “You got your wish, big guy. You wanted to push her away, you did it. You ripped her heart out and left her feeling like she was nothing—you made her into nothing.” A bitter smile curved Taneisha’s lips. “Goal accomplished. She’s gone now, man. You win.”

  When he reached out and caught Taneisha’s arm, he didn’t know who was more surprised, her or himself. The second she looked back at him, he dropped his hand, barely able to believe he’d even touched her. He was losing his mind. That’s all there was to it. He looked at his hand for a second before looking back at her.

  “Don’t,” he said, barely resisting the urge to rub his hand against his jeans to wipe away the feel of another person’s skin on his.

  “Don’t what?” she challenged. “Don’t tell you what you did?”

  “That’s not…” He stopped, floundering for words. “I don’t want her hurt.”

  “Hurt?” Taneisha stared at him. Then she shook her head. “You think she’s hurt? You ripped her apart. She’s loved you for years and you pretty much crushed her. All by not calling.”

  He clenched his jaw and averted his eyes, staring out over the river. It was dark and grey, echoing the overcast sky. “What’s the fucking problem? I’m not even hurt.” Hell, he’d been hurt worse than this by the time he was thirteen.

  “The problem is you didn’t think about her. Not once.” Taneisha shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. She said you two weren’t talking and I guess that’s a good thing, since this is how you feel about her.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about how I feel.” The words tore out of him before he even knew they were there. But he couldn’t take them back.

  A black brow arched over dark, knowing eyes. “Do you?” she countered. Cocking her head, she said, “Let me ask you this: If she was the one hurt, hurt or sick or scared … whatever, and she didn’t call you, how would it make you feel?”

  Something twisted in his heart and a feeling he knew all too well started to crawl through him. Shame. But this time, he deserved it and he couldn’t blame anybody but himself.

  “If you two are over, then you’re over.” Taneisha started to walk away. “But I don’t look at either of you and see somebody who is over anybody.”

  David dropped down. He hit the ground and curled his arms around his upraised knees, staring at nothing. Vaguely he heard the roar of Taneisha’s engine.

  Then there was silence.

  The noise from town sounded like it came from a tunnel.

  Something pricked against his skin, but he ignored it. It was that weird, eerie feeling he’d had a hundred times. Like somebody watched him.

  But he didn’t care.

  All that mattered was what Taneisha had just said … and Sybil.

  You ripped her heart out and left her feeling like she was nothing—you made her into nothing. Goal accomplished.

  “Fuck.” He shoved the heel of his hand against one eye while images swam through his head.

  Sybil’s eyes, wide with hurt. The bottom line is you don’t want me enough. So fine. It’s over.

  Are you really going to choose the past over me?

  Somewhere off in the distance, he heard a siren wail.

  Slowly, he lifted his head.

  A siren.

  But instead of rising, he just sat there. And waited.

  * * *

  “Oh, shit.”

  Jensen thought she might just get sick.

  The uniform who’d been the first on-scene was Officer Luther Gardiner, and while the black man didn’t look like he was getting ready to hurl his cookies, he looked pretty tight around the mouth.

  Wanly she smiled. “That is a person, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Then he grimaced. “Or it was.”

  He came closer and she hated to admit it, but he had a stronger stomach than she did. Of course, he’d worked in Louisville for about five years before transferring here. Maybe he was used to scraping people off the pavement. Kneeling down just a few inches away from the bloody mess of pulpy skin, broken bones and blood, he blew out a sigh. “And I hate to say this, but I think it might be Clay Brumley.”

  Swallowing back the gorge, she glanced up at Thorpe. He looked as pale as she suspected she was. “Why?”

  “The hair.” Gardiner looked at the smashed skull. “Not many people had that reddish mess of curls.”

  Jensen had to breathe shallowly as she shifted her gaze to his head. Or what was left of it. If she was careful—looking at him without thinking about what she was looking at—she could see wiry ginger curls.

  “Okay.”

  Backing away, she gave herself a minute. She didn’t think she was being weak, not at all. She’d never seen a body so thoroughly destroyed before, save for the four-car pileup they had one New Year’s Eve a few years back. A car full of drunken idiots had left Belterra, instead of letting the casino call a cab. They killed themselves and four others. Sorting out the body parts had been something of a nighmare and Jensen still had bad dreams about that.

  Hearing the shallow breathing coming from just behind her, she looked over at Thorpe. He’d been on the job for less time than she had, and she realized he hadn’t been there for that New Year’s crash, either. “If you need a minute,” she advised, “take it.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He set his jaw, focusing on the wal
l.

  She didn’t argue with him.

  Her stomach was raw when she turned back to look at the body, the ruin of it.

  “Well,” she murmured, shaking her head. “One thing is certain: If he was involved in Cronus, we won’t have any shortage of suspects.”

  Gardiner slid her a smile grim with dark humor. “That’s not helping.”

  “Well, there are other things I want to say, but that’s unprofessional.”

  Rubbing the back of her neck, she looked around and spied the jewelry store across the way. “Thorpe. Go talk to the manager at Beringers. I want the security tape for the past twenty-four hours. If he gives you grief, tell him I’ll be over there in five seconds flat and I won’t be happy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As he walked away, she stripped off the gloves and then sanitized her hands. It didn’t do shit to eliminate the stink of death that filled her nose, but she’d tried.

  She wasn’t done here, but she had a call to make.

  They’d had plans.

  After punching in a number she knew by heart, she waited until he answered.

  “Hello, darlin’,” Dean murmured, his voice low and rich, wrapping around her. It was like a brush of velvet and silk against her skin.

  For a moment she closed her eyes and lost herself to it. A sigh drifted out of her before she said, “Hello back.”

  There was a brief pause and then Dean said, voice a little more brisk, “That isn’t the voice of a woman who’s going to be rushing back home anytime soon.”

  “You’re a man of stunning intellect.”

  “No.” Sardonic humor colored his words. “I’m a man who knows the difference between cop Jensen and my Jensen. It’s all cop Jensen I’m talking to right now.”

  “Even cop Jensen is yours.” Every part of her belonged to him.

  “I know that. But cop Jensen has other priorities besides a naked breakfast in bed with me. As it should be.”

  She made a face. “Yeah.” Darting a glance behind her, she watched as Gardiner continued marking the scene, his face set in an unreadable mask.

  “We found him. We … think.”

  “Exactly what do you mean, you think you found him? Found who? Brumley?”

  “Yeah.” She mentally braced herself for what she had to do next.

  “You don’t know for certain, though.”

  “No.”

  Dean was quiet and then he said, “That won’t be pleasant, then.”

  He’d been a lawyer in Lexington. He knew too much about the kind of work she did. Thankful she didn’t have to explain, she closed her eyes. “No.”

  “I’d hoped you could come back here, get a decent meal in you … nap. She laughed, despite herself. “You mean you wanted to feed me, then fuck me.”

  “Well, yes. But then I wanted you to rest. You’ve barely slept the past few weeks. The past few months.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll sleep when this is over. For now, I have to deal with this—take care of Brumley, or what’s left of him. If it’s him.”

  “Somebody got to him before the cops did.” Dean’s voice was grim. “Fuck, I hope I’m not going to have to go after that Sutter guy. He’s already been through hell.”

  “You’re not.” Jensen shook her head, her gaze on the window. “He’s … I think he’s connected to this somehow, but he’s not involved in it.”

  Hearing the approach of more cars, she peered around the corner. “The ambulance is here. I think I see the ME’s car, too. I have to go. I’m sorry I’m missing out on brunch and ‘spend the day naked’ plans.”

  “So we’ll do dinner, and spend all night naked instead.” His voice dropped to a low, smoky drawl. “Love you.”

  “Hmmm. Love you, too.”

  Then, as the phone disconnected, she turned back to the bloody, grim death that awaited her.

  * * *

  The wail of sirens faded.

  The misery building inside him didn’t.

  David kept waiting for that rush of anger, because anger won out over pain any day. He’d nurtured the anger, giving in to that red rush of rage over and over again. When the pain crept too close, he’d blocked it off and turned to anger instead.

  For twenty long years, he’d fed that ravenous beast and starved the misery.

  That was how he’d managed to cut off almost all the emotion in his life. How he’d choked it out of himself, or so he’d thought. He’d been wrong, a fact that he’d slowly been forced to accept over the past few weeks. Since Abraham had died, and the fact had been driven home even more vividly after David had stood at the graveside as they laid Max to rest.

  Abraham gone.

  Max gone.

  And now, according to Sybil’s friend, she was gone, too.

  Not dead gone, but still … lost. Lost to him.

  It was a blow more crippling than he could imagine.

  Because it hurt too much to sit there and just think about it, he surged upright and started to pace.

  But the wide, open yard of Max’s house felt too small, so David started to move up and down the sidewalk. Before he knew it, he was striding down Main Street, but even that wasn’t far enough.

  Sybil.

  Gone.

  Fuck—

  Then he was running.

  That pain was one he couldn’t escape, and he couldn’t outrun it.

  He wasn’t sure he could live it with it, either.

  * * *

  What is wrong?

  He sat there for the longest time after the black woman had left. The woman was a nurse. She was familiar. Had taken care of Maxwell Shepherd.

  Is she one of them?

  She’d seemed to be kind to the man sitting in the yard, but now he looked … sad.

  Abruptly he stood.

  The look on his face was one of misery and rage.

  Don’t let him see you. Not yet. The voice of caution was strong, drowning out that insidious, taunting whisper.

  Hidden eyes watched as he started to pace, first in the yard. Then up and down the sidewalk.

  By the time he was heading into town, he was so far ahead, there was no hope of catching up with him.

  His face was tortured. Angry.

  It was that woman’s fault.

  She’d have to be dealt with.

  Just like all the others who’d gotten in the way.

  * * *

  Taneisha finished the shopping before she called Sybil.

  It was that or clue her in on the fact that she’d paid a visit to that big, beautiful bastard Sibyl had, sadly, fallen for. Once she’d packed all the groceries in, Taneisha almost felt calm, so she made the call.

  “I’m on my way home. They drive you nuts yet?”

  “Oh, that ship has sailed, my friend.” Sybil’s voice was just this side of despondent. “We went out to lunch. Fortunately, I was smart enough to tell Drew about David’s … accident before we did, because Meg Hampton decided to drop by the table and chat all about it. Of course, David’s now being hailed as a hero, but if I hadn’t told Drew—”

  All over again, Taneisha got pissed. “He should have told you. Then you could have told Drew before this.” Swallowing back everything else, she blew out a breath and shot a look at the mirror before swinging over into the right lane. “Is he okay?”

  “As okay as I can expect. You going to be home soon?”

  “In about three minutes. Finished up grocery shopping. Where are you?”

  “Ah … probably three minutes behind you. Want me to just bring Darnell home?”

  “Go ahead.” She was tempted to invite Sybil over, but she suspected it was a waste of air. If she knew Sybil, the woman would want some time alone.

  “See you soon.” They disconnected and Taneisha pulled up in front of her house. To herself, she started to mutter about David Sutter all over again. “What a fricking ass.”

  As she climbed out of the car, she used the key fob to pop the trunk. She glanced around out of h
abit, her gaze bouncing off the black work truck parked in front of the house next door. The woman sliding out of it didn’t look familiar, but Taneisha didn’t waste more than a glance on her.

  How in the hell could that son of a bitch just brush Sybil aside like that? Yeah, yeah, she should probably be more patient, more understanding, but what the hell ever. Sybil loved him, and as far as Taneisha knew, Sybil hadn’t fallen for anybody else. Ever.

  Just him.

  “Stupid fucking jerk. He ain’t ever going to find somebody like her,” Taneisha said to herself, hauling a bag out.

  “Excuse me, but can you help me, please?”

  She turned around. The only thing she saw was a flash of hair, a reflection of light.

  Then pain exploded through her head.

  * * *

  Sybil caught a flash of light reflecting off something near Taneisha’s house and she grimaced, tugging the sunglasses off her face as she went to press on the gas.

  But her heart froze, blood going to ice as she caught sight of what was going on.

  Taneisha—body still, limp.

  Somebody shoving her into a trunk—

  Black truck—

  Laying on the horn, Sybil gunned the engine. The woman’s head whipped around. For one second their gazes connected, and then the woman dropped Taneisha and took off running.

  Instinct screamed at Sybil to jump out of the car, but she didn’t. Instead she grabbed her phone. The boys were in the back, shouting, and then Darnell saw his mother, started to scream. Sybil just barely had the presence of mind to hit the child locks.

  And all the while, she watched the woman.

  In the truck now, and then, with a screech of tires, she was whipping down the street in reverse.

  But Sybil could still feel those eyes. Muddy brown, dead like a shark’s.

  “Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”

  “I need to report an attack,” she said. Woodenly she repeated Taneisha’s address, still looking around for that black truck. It looked to be gone, but Sybil couldn’t take the chance, not with the boys.

  * * *

  “Witnesses report seeing a black truck near this alley.” Thorpe went over the list, his eyes studiously avoiding the board in front of him and the pictures. “Meg Hampton, in particular, reports seeing a black truck, one she says she didn’t recognize, and a woman driving it.”