by Geri Krotow
“I’ll keep you posted.” He spoke to Spencer, as informing Jarvis about the investigation wasn’t protocol. He knew Spencer would keep Jarvis informed.
Spencer nodded. “I know you will. I’ll let you know what I do, Jarvis.”
“Sure thing. See you, Holden.” Jarvis got into the passenger seat and waited while Holden and Spencer talked outside.
“Thank you for the extra security on-site at the school and here.” Holden couldn’t do his job if MVPD didn’t do theirs.
“Yeah, well, whatever it takes, right? Let’s get this bad guy once and for all, Holden.” Spencer looked up at the deepening sky, the stars that were shining across the earth’s canopy. “It’s not unlike the long hours we pulled waiting for the drill sergeant to ream our butts, is it?”
“Not much different at all. Except I’ve been managing some sleep each night, thanks to MVPD and you.”
Spencer snorted. “I know you, Holden. You never sleep while the enemy’s still on the prowl.”
“Yeah, well, at least I can catch a nap here and there. That’s more than we ever did in the Army.”
“It is.” Spencer opened the driver-side door. “Let’s hope this doesn’t go on for the rest of the week.”
“If he does what he’s done in the past, the next two days will be key.” Holden had studied the timelines of each murder, the pageant preparations leading up to it. Ms. Mustang Valley was right on time for the murderer’s schedule. He expected an attempt on Bella’s life in the next forty-eight hours.
Spencer shifted on his feet. “Not to change the subject or make it seem like I’m not invested in my sister’s stalker, but I have another case to ask you about. I need a favor.”
“Anything. Shoot.”
“You know about AAG, and that Leigh, one of the contestants, is heavily involved in it.”
“Right. She’s still ingratiating as all get-out, always telling Bella and the other contestants that they are all beautiful winners and can do it no matter what.” Holden managed a short laugh. “We probably owe her, in a twisted way, for keeping the pageant going and the contestants coming back in the face of danger.”
“I’d hold off on your praise. AAG is not right, I’m certain of it. And I’ve had reason to look into its founder, Micheline Anderson, after we talked about her. Turns out she didn’t exist as a person until forty years ago.” Spencer looked at him intently, clearly waiting for Holden to put something together.
“Okay, so she’s forty years old?”
“No, nothing like that. Micheline isn’t a day under sixty-five. But her birth date, or appearance on the planet, coincides with the disappearance of Luella Smith, the nurse at the hospital who likely switched her baby for the one we know as Ace Colton. Look, here’s a photo of Luella Smith from forty years ago.” Spencer tapped onto his phone and handed it to Holden.
“Wow. Save for the darker hair and glasses, this woman’s the spitting image of Micheline.” He’d observed the AAG founder at the pageant practices, sitting in the audience with the smattering of other relatives, friends and parents who stopped by to see how their loved ones were doing.
“Exactly. I questioned her about what kind of history she had, before forty years ago when it all goes dark for her. She told me that she was in the witness protection program until now, and can’t talk about it. I thought that was odd, because you can’t divulge if you’ve ever been in the program but I didn’t want to call her on it right then. I want her to think we’re clueless as to her motives.”
“Good thinking. No, you’re not supposed to ever reveal if you’ve been in the witness protection program.” Holden referred to the Bureau. “I can ask a colleague who helps administer it to look her up.”
“That’d be great!” Spencer’s relief was palpable. “I appreciate it.”
“But remember, I’m not privy to the protection’s program information, not on an official level. Whatever you find out is yours—do with it as you need to.”
“No, no, that’s not a problem at all. I owe you, buddy.”
Spencer’s phone sounded and he looked at Holden. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be in touch.”
“Same.”
Holden turned back and was almost to the front door when he realized what mattered most to him in this moment wasn’t the investigation and getting to his next rank in the FBI.
It was the woman in the modest adobe house.
Bella.
“Holden, hold up!” Spencer’s voice shook him out of his revelation as he trotted up to him, phone in hand.
“What’s up?”
“That was the head of the MVPD forensics team. The lab results are in and we have an ID on the prints that are on the file cabinet.”
“Whose are they?”
“Becky’s. She’s voluntarily turned over several boxes of paper files from the pageant. She admitted that she didn’t want the pageant to become fodder for tabloid gossip, which is what she said she considers the Gabber to be. She suspected Bella was reporting on the pageant the minute she signed up as a contestant.” Spencer had a look of disgust on his face. “All Becky had to do was read the Gabber. She’d see it’s a reputable news source.”
“Those are the files Bella has been searching for.” Holden felt a sense of pride. Bella had trusted her gut, and Gio’s information, and she’d been correct. The pageant’s archives had been in that file cabinet.
“We can have them to her as soon as we get through the red tape. Will you tell her?”
“Tell me what?” Of course Bella was standing in the threshold. Holden tried not to glare at her. “What? I’m not outside, not completely.”
* * *
As Holden repeated what Spencer had told him, she felt both men watching her, gauging her reaction.
“Becky?” Bella couldn’t believe it. And yet, she’d never seen her attacker. “Holden, is it possible that Becky was the attacker you talked to?”
Holden frowned. “It’s possible, yes, but improbable. I remember the assailant as wider, more muscular.”
“This doesn’t explain how she fell, or who pushed her, or how the explosion was set off at the same time, or even why she’d want to kill the victims.”
“If she was pushed. It’s possible she jumped, faked being pushed. But I’ve never had a case where someone intentionally hurt themselves, to distract from the real crime. Becky really wanted to win the pageant.” Spencer shook his head. “Nothing is as it seems in this case.”
“That’s exactly what the attacker said to me.” Holden’s mouth was a straight line, white around the edges from pressing his lips together.
Chills assailed her. Holden was the one person she counted on to know what the heck was happening.
“Spencer has an officer at her place now, questioning her. She’s already turned over several boxes of pageant files. Spencer said you’ll have them as soon as he takes care of the administrative and legal details.”
“Is it possible that we don’t have a serial killer, but a woman who is for some reason bent on keeping the history of Ms. Mustang Valley a secret?” She had to ask the obvious.
Holden expelled a breath. “Possible, yes. Probable? No.”
Spencer shook his head. “I’m a local cop, you’re the serial-killer expert.”
“The majority of participants are really just trying to get ahead. It’s often their last hope. We have no reason to think Becky didn’t want the same. So of course she wanted to protect the files, and the pageant—she didn’t want it shut down.” Bella blurted out her thoughts before she thought twice about it. Both men turned and faced her. Standing on the threshold, she saw Jarvis sitting in the SUV with Boris.
“That wasn’t your opinion when you signed up for this.” Spencer’s exasperation made her wish she’d kept her mouth shut. He had enough on his shoulders with Payne Colton still in a coma
from a gunshot and the shooter still on the loose. Not to mention the other everyday myriad petty crimes that kept MVPD busy on a slow day.
“It’s my job to keep my opinion out of it. I’m learning as I go along.” She paused, afraid to ask the next question. “Can you get me the files as soon as possible? I’m willing to come in to the station and copy them myself.”
“I’ll see what we can do, but my first priority isn’t an old stack of paperwork, Bella.”
“That’s fair. I get it.” Still, if she could have the files, her exposé would be complete.
“Keep us informed, Spencer.” Holden looked distracted.
Spencer nodded and walked back to the SUV.
As soon as she shut the door, Bella followed Holden into the kitchen where she watched him start a pot of coffee.
“Isn’t it a little late for caffeine?”
“Normally, yes. But it’s going to be a long night.”
“Again.” She rounded the counter and stood next to him. “I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to get much sleep.”
“It’s my job. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to go without. It’s always worth the final results.”
“It seems a high price to pay, your health.”
“Lack of sleep is manageable, short-term. But most cases aren’t solved as quickly as we’re hoping this will be. It’s not like on television or in the movies. I’ve worked as long as three years on a single case before connecting the dots well enough to not only get the criminal, but to ensure the case is solid for the prosecuting attorney.”
“I know it’s not like the movies, trust me. Spencer is my brother, remember? I also know that you’re being modest. It takes an incredible amount of tenacity to hang in there, day after day.” She knew; reporting was often the same.
“You’re trying to show me that you do the same thing, Bella, but it doesn’t equate.” His tone was cooler than it had been since he’d first made it clear he wasn’t a fan of reporters almost three weeks ago.
The most revelatory few weeks of her life. Not that she had time to process it all right now.
“I’m not trying to manipulate you into believing something you never will. If I have something to say to you, I’m direct. You should know that by now, if nothing else.” Heat rushed her face and she turned away, damning the tears that threatened to fall. Anger at herself for falling for this unreachable man combined with frustration at reaching the end of the pageant with not a heck of a lot of exposé material, save for whatever the archival files Becky turned over might have, had made her a hot mess. Plus the fact that maybe it was time she faced some hard facts about Gio’s illness and its causes. She might never have that answer, and she had to figure out what to focus her reporting on, besides Ms. Mustang Valley pageant wrong-doing. The pressure of it welled inside, adding fuel to her tears of frustration.
Think.
There was plenty to draw from with all she’d learned as a contestant, albeit undercover. The scholarship award was particularly noteworthy, as the motives for each contestant to win were deserving of their own story. The other topics she’d inadvertently learned so much about were eating orders and mental illness. There was never enough light shone on them, as far as she was concerned. She’d figure out a story topic, even though her emotions were making it seem impossible at the moment.
“Hey, hang on.” Holden reached for her and she dared herself to look up at him. “We’re at the tough part here. It’s normal to feel like it’ll never end.”
“Stop it with your constant stream of FBI platitudes. I know what I’m feeling and while it’s probably hard for you to believe, you can’t read my mind.” She watched his face as she challenged him and where she expected an answering anger she saw heat...of a different kind.
“Bella. When are you going to get it that much of my—what did you call them, oh yeah, platitudes, are my way of staying on the straight and narrow, where I have to be to do my job?”
“Your job is to catch a killer and you’ve given yourself the additional assignment of protecting me. Unless you see me as the ideal lure for the murderer.”
“Never.” He pulled her up against his chest, her breasts flattened by the sheer masculine wall, and lowered his mouth to hers. Hadn’t she just told him she was direct with communication? Holden had the direct part of physical communication down.
His kiss turned into their kiss as they didn’t waste time on preliminaries. Mouths opened, tongues swept, breathing hitched. Desire rose and pooled in the most delicious, torturous way as Holden’s hands caressed her cheeks, her throat, then grasped her breasts with unabashed need.
“Holden,” she moaned against his mouth and he began to kiss her jawline, her throat, as his hands moved over her belly and down to the molten hot spot between her legs. Her knees felt as impermanent as the desert sands, the quaking he caused making her hang on to his massive shoulders. “I can’t take this much longer.”
“Then don’t, babe.” He lifted her into his arms with zero fanfare and walked into the living room where he deposited her on the sofa. Her question must have been in her gaze as she looked at him, marveled at how her fingers had tousled his hair, her kisses had made his lips fuller, his eyes half-lidded. “It’s safer out here.”
“Okay.” She sat up. “Let me get—”
“This?” He pulled a condom from his jeans front pocket and grinned.
“Were you expecting this?” She’d thought she’d never experience his lovemaking again, not during the investigation and definitely not if he really couldn’t stand her profession.
“Never expected, but hoped.” His words were as hot as his tongue and fingers, setting her already flaming want into a full-raging inferno.
Unlike the other time they’d made love, she wanted to undress him. He shucked out of his T-shirt and she got on her knees, the sofa cushions buckling underneath. “Let me.” Kissing his chest, licking the skin through the tufts of his chest hair, she heard him sigh, groan. She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the single jean fastener. Unzipping his jeans was the single most sensual moment she’d ever had. Her reward for going slow, slow, slow was grasping his erection and freeing it, pushing the pants down with her other hand.
“You next.” He sucked in air as he spoke, and the huskiness of his voice made her aware of how wet she was, how ready to be one with him again.
“Holden, I want to—”
“I know, babe, but we’re short on time here.” He pushed her back to her feet, lifted her top up and over her head, peeled her leggings off. She stood in front of him wearing a sports bra and lacy thong.
“I do have matching underwear, I swear.”
He chuckled but it was strained. Never had she been with a man who so clearly wanted her as much as she did him.
“Babe, I’m not interested in your bra-and-panty sets.” He squeezed her breast through the thin stretchy material, lowered his head and sucked on her nipple. As she cried out with need he lifted the bra up and off, then kissed and suckled each nipple, the feel of his tongue against her bare skin driving her close to the edge. And she still had her thong on.
“Holden, I—”
“Come here.” He grasped her thong and pushed it down, his fingers doing what she was certain was some secret move to her most private parts. As soon as she was naked, he sheathed himself then lay on the sofa. “Come here.”
His hands on her hips to guide her, she propped her hands on his shoulders and leaned over, her knees on either side of his pelvis. He moved his grasp to her buttocks and pulled her down atop his erection. The sudden heat and fullness sent her into preorgasmic miniquakes, her body shaking beyond her control.
“That’s it, babe, take it, take it.” He spoke as he gyrated underneath her, moving the way that made her gasp, sigh, and with a definite swirl of his pelvis, scream.
He didn’t wait for he
r climax to end before he began moving hard and fast inside her, forcing her to cling to him, holding on for what she thought an impossible second orgasm.
His forehead was bathed in sweat and it turned her on more to know she’d made him feel like this. She’d helped drive him to this point, the same place she was. Where whatever it took, they were going to come together.
“Holden, I’m going to come again.” She couldn’t stop moving against him, meeting every thrust with a downward swing of her hips, the swell of her climax surging, threatening to take her down with Holden’s next move.
“That’s it. Babe!” He thrust up and shouted as she screamed. But the intensity of their mutual climax didn’t drag her down at all—it lifted her to the highest places imaginable.
Chapter 21
“We can’t stay like this all night.” Bella spoke against his chest as he moved his fingers through her hair, brushing it off her damp brow. They’d taken a full fifteen minutes to come back to Planet Earth and he’d reveled in every second of it.
And silently thanked MVPD for having the outside security down pat.
“We could, but it might get sticky.” He laughed and loved that she let out a little giggle, too.
“Ewww.” She rose to look at him and he’d never seen such a beautiful shade of green. “Now you sound like a guy and not—” She stopped.
“What?” He helped her off him and then stood next to her.
“Let’s finish this in the bathroom.”
“The guest shower.” He didn’t want her near her shower until they either caught the killer or were certain Becky had been the criminal all along. They padded, naked, down the hall. Holden took his gun with him, his only concession to the reality of their situation. His thoughts were on getting into the shower with Bella. Two minutes later they were under the cool spray.
“What were you going to say, when you said I sounded like a guy?” He was massaging her scalp as he washed her hair and the way she leaned her head completely back let him know that she trusted him. It was a sacred space and he didn’t take it lightly.