by Mary Burton
For now, she was glad to be home and have a few hours of much-needed sleep. She locked the door behind her and then placed her keys and backpack on the kitchen counter.
As she laid her weapon on the counter, a tremor slithered along her spine. Instead of releasing the grip, she held on tight and turned on all the lights.
The town house was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the whoosh of the air-conditioning. She walked into the living room and noted the three magazines were as she’d left them on the coffee table. Same for the red pillows and the channel selectors. So why, then, did she feel as if something were off?
She flipped on the entryway light and, moving slowly, glanced toward the sliding glass door that fed onto a small patio. Listening, she paused and then followed the hallway toward the bedrooms.
The spare bedroom housed her two bikes and camping equipment. She opened the closet and searched it. Everything appeared in order.
She continued her methodical search into her bedroom and bathroom.
Nothing was out of place. All as she had left it.
And still she felt the very strong sensation that something was definitely not right.
She was more paranoid than the average guy, but she was not average. She was a cop, and the best cops embraced those unexplained feelings they could not shake. Better cautious than dead.
The goal was always to go home at night. And now she was home and still jumpy.
She doubled-checked the patio door one last time, and the security lights her father had installed kicked on as Wild Kitty strolled out of the bushes.
Smiling, Melina holstered her weapon and opened a can of tuna before she exited the door. She set the can on the patio table. The cat jumped up, meowing.
“I know, I’m late.” She petted the cat, taking extra time to rub between her ears. It was her favorite spot. Finally, satisfied she had been properly acknowledged, she ate.
Melina stood in the warm night air and stared up at the stars in the sky. “My best friend is a cat.”
It was not lost on her that the longest relationship she had ever had, outside her parents, was with a feline that did not even belong to her.
She closed the sliding door behind her, locked it, and wedged the security bar in place. Slowly, she released the grip on her gun, and tossing one more glance around the fully illuminated town house, she returned to the kitchen.
From the freezer she grabbed a double-stuffed-crust pizza and popped it in the oven. She never had the patience to preheat the oven, which meant she was not giving the frozen disc its culinary due.
In her bedroom, she turned on the hot water, stripped, and then stepped into the shower. The liquid heat pushed against her skin, chasing away some of the chill that had settled in her bones. As she dipped her head under the hot spray, her thoughts trailed to Ramsey. Had he collapsed into his bed, exhausted? Or was he reading one of those half dozen case files? Her money was on the files.
She tried to imagine the touch of his hands on her skin and the sensation of his body pressed against hers. Maybe when this case was over, she would ask him up for a drink or, better yet, sex. It had been a long dry spell, and good sex with an interesting man was welcome.
Her phone rang. She shut off the water and grabbed a towel and dried off her hands as she hurried to her bed. She picked up the phone on the fourth ring. She glanced at a number she did not recognize, but that was par for the course when she was running an investigation. “Agent Shepard.”
Silence settled on the line. Irritated, she shoved back a lock of thick wet hair. “Is this Sonny?”
More silence and the line went dead.
She tossed the phone on her bed. “Damn it,” she muttered as she hurried back to the tiled floor and dried off. Minutes later she was wearing sweats and a T-shirt. Wet hair coiled up, she snatched up the phone. No voicemail.
It could have been a wrong number or a robocall. She rarely got either, but it was possible. She tucked the phone in her waistband. The smell of processed pepperoni and cheese lured her into the kitchen, and after grabbing a hot mitt, she removed the pizza. She divided it into quarters and dragged two hot pieces onto a plate.
Sitting at the small dining table, she took a bite and glanced at her phone. She took several more bites until she had polished off the second slice. Good enough to fill her belly but not tasty enough for the other half.
Melina went to her computer and searched the number in a reverse phone directory. It came back as a burner. Not the kind of news she wanted.
She ran her fingers over her damp hair, heart pulsing in her neck. Whatever hope she had of sleeping tonight had evaporated. The idea of watching television or reading a book had no appeal.
“What to do?” she muttered.
In her bedroom, she changed into jeans, a button-down shirt, and boots. Her gun back on her hip, she was out the door two minutes later.
Ramsey was sitting on his hotel bed, a cold convenience store beer in hand, and watching a rerun of a sitcom that was not nearly as funny as he recalled from twenty years ago. Maybe times had changed. He sure as hell had. Either way, the dated costumes and humor were irritating.
As he reached for the remote, his phone rang. It was Shepard. He tossed the remote aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“Shepard,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching a bad show.”
“Want a beer?”
He glanced at the half-consumed beer. “Sure.”
“I can be there in five minutes.”
“Great.” He hung up and poured his beer down the sink and stashed the other five in the small minifridge. As he tucked in his shirt, there was a knock on his door.
Habit had him reaching for his weapon on the nightstand and peering out the peephole. Shepard was staring directly at the door as if she knew he was checking out his late-night visitor. She held up the six-pack and grinned.
A smile tipped the edges of his lips and he opened the door. He did not speak as he stepped aside and nodded for her to enter. Her damp hair smelled of roses or lavender, and her skin looked dewy and moist. His mind jerked to her standing naked in a shower.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
He shut the door. “Why?”
Her shoulders rose in what he now saw as a nervous habit. “Dead prostitutes. Severed fingers. Two killers who haven’t been stopped. You pick.” She handed him a beer and then twisted off the top of another.
“Do you often have trouble sleeping?” he asked.
“You don’t?” She took a pull, and his gaze was drawn to the slim line of her neck.
“I’ve never slept well.”
She dug her finger along the label of her beer bottle. “I had the sensation someone had been in my town house. I searched it top to bottom. Nothing. Then I received a phone call with no one on the other end. It was from a burner phone.”
“It upset you.”
“More like pissed me off. But after my encounter with the Key Killer, I’ve been a little touchy.” She set her beer down by the television. “And gauging your reaction, I might be a tad paranoid.”
“I don’t get amped up.”
“Oh, really?” She paused, as if choosing her next words carefully. “I’d rather not be alone tonight.”
He understood the need to connect, to feel not alone all the time. He set his beer down and crossed to her. “What do you have in mind, Agent?”
His deep tone sparked heat in her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Three guesses and the first two don’t count.”
“Say it,” he said.
“I want to have sex with you.”
His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”
“Oddly, yes. Very. What about you?”
“This moment has crossed my mind once or twice.”
That coaxed a smile. “Really? You were thinking about me?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
; Instead of answering, he reached for the clip holding her hair up and tugged it free. The damp curls framed her face and brushed her shoulders. He ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s as soft as it looks.”
“Is that all you thought about doing?” Her voice had grown husky.
“Not all.”
“What about this?” She reached for the top button of her blouse and slowly undid two.
As she reached for the third button, he took her hand and pulled her toward him. “Are you in a rush?”
“Depends.”
“We’re not going to rush this.” It was not a request. He was practical enough to know life was going to pull them apart soon enough. He wanted to savor her. He cupped her face and kissed her on the lips.
She leaned into the kiss. Energy radiated through her, and he sensed she was lowering her guard to him. He liked that she had decided to trust him.
He deepened the kiss, savoring the taste of her mouth. He tasted beer. His hand slid to her shoulder and then along her waist. He then realized he was not so different from Shepard. Self-imposed exile for the sake of work and a constant need for justice had also left him isolated.
He reached for the next button on her shirt and carefully unfastened it. “So much for going slow,” he said.
“I don’t do patient.”
His gaze was drawn to her delicate bronze skin, which reminded him of honey. He kissed her naked shoulder and then the hollow of her neck before dropping his lips to the crest of her full breasts.
Melina drew in a breath, threading her fingers through his hair and arching toward him. Neither spoke as they continued to kiss, touch, and strip clothing that dropped to the growing pile on the floor.
Naked, she was not shy and made no attempt to hide from him. She took him by the hand and led him toward the bed. With the goofy sitcom now muted but still playing in the background, she crawled to the center of the bed and propped herself up on both pillows.
Ramsey’s grip on his control shattered. All he could think about now was being inside her. He followed her and slowly straddled her. She shifted, moving him to her moist center as he slid inside her.
She drew in a breath, rubbing her hands over his back and then over his buttocks as her excitement rose. He waited as her body adjusted and then very slowly began to move. She arched toward him, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him in deeper.
There were always real monsters in the shadows, waiting for Ramsey to lower his guard so they could claim another victim. He had been warned by a veteran officer that he could not save everyone and to try to do so would be his ruin. He consciously chose not to heed that advice. All could be saved. His duty was to be forever vigilant in the hunt for monsters.
But in this moment, he let his guard slip. He allowed the sensations of pleasure to satisfy the longings and fill the loneliness that had hollowed out his insides.
Shepard closed her eyes, and he knew she was headed to a similar place filled with hungry desire that pushed away all her worries and fears. He gratefully followed.
He moved faster, and her moans turned more urgent. She was here for herself, not for him, but he did not care. She was here, and she would take him out of the darkness and toward the light for just a little while.
When she climaxed, arching her back, he tumbled right after her. For a blissful split second, they were one.
He collapsed on top of her, their hearts pounding in a rapid drummer’s beat. She caressed her hand along his back, and he allowed his face to rest in the hollow of her neck.
“Stay for a couple of hours,” he said.
She was silent for a moment, as if she did not quite know how to take it. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you want me to go.”
He rose up on his elbow and touched her chin. He stared into the warm brown eyes that searched his with the same intensity she gave a crime scene. That thought made him smile.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“You’re back to analyzing.” He moved a strand of hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear.
A lazy smile coiled the edges of her lips. “And you aren’t?”
“Maybe a little.” He liked having her close and feeling her warmth.
“It’s nice,” she said.
“Nice?”
“I mean being here. The other part was pretty great. It’s been a while. Glad to know all the parts still work.”
He chuckled. “Like riding a bike.”
“Something like that.” She squirmed, and when he rose up to give her space, she slid out from under him. He lay on his back, tucking the pillow behind his head. He was curious about what her next move would be.
She rolled on her side, facing him. She smoothed her hand over his flat belly, drawing small circles. Her fingers moved lower and lower until they skimmed the top of his now-returning erection.
Her smile turned mischievous as she straddled him. After guiding him inside her, she moved up and down. He watched as she cupped her breasts and then rubbed them against his chest.
Once again, he could feel the desire and emotion rise up in her like flames from a pyre. It seemed to consume her, burning into him in a way he had never experienced before. With hands on both sides of her narrow hips, he held on as she rode him hard until finally the heat rushed over him.
She rested her head on his chest, damp with sweat, and leaned forward and kissed him. “Very nice.”
“So you’re staying?”
“Round three?” she teased.
He chuckled. “How about you lay beside me?”
She regarded him and finally nodded. “Just for a little while.”
She nestled her body beside his, and he curled his arm around her waist, taking in her restful breathing. For the first time in years, he did not spend the next hour overanalyzing events. He simply drifted off to sleep.
It didn’t take Sonny long to find Bonnie. Over their years together, he had learned her patterns cold. He began visiting likely motels, stopping at the front desk, showing her picture and his fake police badge. Three hours into his search, he found her South Nashville motel.
He paid the manager twenty bucks and then knocked on Bonnie’s door. Inside he heard a television blaring some kind of game show. Bonnie loved those damn things. When they had been in California, she had put in applications for at least a dozen of them but had never gotten picked. “Just as well,” she had grumbled. “Got to pay taxes on those winnings. And never a good idea to hook up with the Tax Man.”
The curtains fluttered and he knew Bonnie was looking out the window. Fuck. She could be so smug when he had made a mistake. And he had made a few too many since her return.
The latch scraped free and the door opened. She greeted him with a wide smile. “You’ve been a bad, bad boy,” she said.
He looked from side to side, fearing someone might be watching. “Can I come in?”
“I don’t know, baby doll. You weren’t so kind to me.”
“We have a mutual problem, thanks to that little car accident of yours.”
“Shit happens.”
Of course, she would be gloating. She never could resist. “If you want to stay out of prison, let me in.”
Her smile widened as she stepped back. “You don’t have to get all pissy with me, Sonny. You know I would never leave you out in the cold.”
He stepped over the threshold, brushing past her as well as her comment. He searched the room, saw a pair of men’s underwear.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“I am now. You picked a good bail bondsman. Full service.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Nothing that didn’t leave a smile on his face.” She grinned. “Don’t worry. I took a few pictures. He’s not going to say anything. He would end up in trouble with his boss and his missus if the pictures got out.”
Ignoring her comment, he locked the door and slid the chain into place. From inside his coat pocket, he removed the pair of new ga
rdening shears.
Bonnie inhaled her cigarette, and as she blew out the smoke, that trademark grin faded. She took a step back but to her credit showed no fear. She carefully stabbed out the glowing tip. “There’s no reason for that, baby doll.”
“It’s long overdue,” he said more to himself.
“You think killing me is going to make you right in the head? It won’t. In fact, it will drive you over the edge. There won’t be enough women in the world to kill if I die.”
He advanced on her.
Instead of shrinking back, she took a step forward and put her face within inches of his own. “You’ve been pissed at me since I left your sister on the side of the road.”
The image knifed through him. “Shut up.”
“I still remember how she used to scream when she didn’t get her way. That kid could shake the bloody rafters with those lungs of hers.”
“It wasn’t her fault. She just wanted attention.”
“Who doesn’t want attention?” Bonnie asked. “We all want it. Those first months on the road with the three of us were pretty sweet. We had some good times. Remember that yellow Cadillac we picked up in Salt Lake City?”
Picked up. Bonnie had hot-wired it. But it had been one sweet car. With the top down and the warm air on his face, it was the first time in his life that he had felt free and really alive.
She grinned, staring at him intently. “You remember, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You could have it again,” she said. “That freedom and that fun.”
The pain that he had so carefully locked away crawled out of the shadows and howled, its doleful sound scratching the underside of his skin. God help him. He had dreamed of those days.
She pointed at him. “And you want it all back, don’t you?”
He dropped his gaze, feeling weak and ashamed. Yes. He wanted it.
“All we have to do is get Elena, you give me the key, and I get the money.”
“There is no money,” he said.
“What?”
He shook his head. “I spent it a long time ago.”
She stared at him with narrowing eyes for a long moment, and he knew this would be the moment she sent him away. She held out her arms to him. “That’s okay, honey. We’ll get more money. We’re good at that.”