Dangerous Desires

by Dawn Altieri

  “It’s no big deal—”

  “No big deal? Emma, did you forget what we talked about? About the attacker being someone you know?”

  “How could I forget?” She flapped her arms at her sides in exasperation. “That’s all I keep thinking about. Who do I know that could be so obsessed with me? Who do I know that could be a murderer?”

  Jake’s face twisted into an apologetic grimace.

  “He made a pass at me and I turned him down. That’s all. It’s not him. It can’t be.” But her gut told her Jake wouldn’t let Ben off that easy. He had every reason to consider Ben a suspect in the investigation.

  “What exactly did he do?” Jake asked.

  She turned toward the living room, not wanting him to read the uncertainty she was sure she wasn’t hiding very well. “He tried to kiss me, but I was able to push him away.”

  “You were able to push him away?” Jake practically growled the words.

  She faced him again. The muscle in his jaw twitched furiously. She could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he formulated his next move.

  “I will talk to him, okay? I will decide if it can or can’t be him.”

  She nodded and said softly, “Okay.”

  His features softened slightly at her compliance. “Matt Sommers brought you home?”

  “Yes. He waited with me in a coffee shop for the patrol officer, then he brought me home.” She glanced down, picked at her fingernails before she looked up at him again. “He thinks you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

  Jake scowled. “He can think whatever the hell he wants to think. Is that what you think?”

  She held his gaze for a long moment, then shook her head. “No. It’s not.”

  He ran his hand roughly through his hair. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing,” she said with a shake of her head. “He just knows we’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

  “Damn it, Emma, I’m trying so hard not to take advantage of you. What I’d really like to do is lock you away somewhere safe from all these damn admirers.”

  “Matt is not an admirer. He’s one of my best friends and has been for most of my life.” She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. “So, what are you doing here? I mean, I’m glad to see you, but it’s so late.”

  “I was about to go back to the restaurant to bring you home when Adam came in and told me about the car. I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”

  “I must have turned my ringer down in the restaurant.” She wished her failure to answer his call hadn’t been the only thing that had brought him to her place. “I’m home safe. You didn’t need to check up on me.”

  “Yes, I did.” He raised his hands to her shoulders, angled himself close to her. “I needed to know you were okay.”

  The warmth of him, the earthy masculine scent of his cologne, the powerful energy which promised safety—all of it enveloped her. He’d said he needed to remain professional, and she would respect his decision. Even if it would only take a small push onto her toes to touch her mouth to his…

  He ran his palms down her arms, took a step back, and inhaled a deep breath that puffed out his chest before he slowly blew it out. “I’m not leaving, Emma. I can’t leave you here alone.”

  She wanted him to stay, but for all the wrong reasons. His strong arms around her would be just what she needed to feel safe and protected after the night she’d had, but having Jake in her apartment was almost as dangerous to her sanity as being alone.

  “I can call Lauren or Matt,” she said. “I’m sure they’d come—”

  “Come on, Emma. You need real protection. Neither of them is trained to deal with this kind of situation. I am.”

  She looked into his eyes and read the concern in them, along with a hint of something else—something more that she was probably imagining and didn’t dare hope for—but she shoved that thought aside. “Okay,” she said softly. “It would be nice to not be alone tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Morning brought with it the promise of Emma’s normal routine. At least as normal as it could be with Jake camping out on her sofa and chauffeuring her to work. She sat quietly in his Tahoe, looking forward to getting her mind off things for a while at the office. He parked around the corner from the building and walked her to the door…where Officer Markowitz stood waiting for them. She turned to Jake with wide eyes.

  “Emma, you’ve met Officer Adam Markowitz,” Jake said.

  The officer reached out to shake her hand. “Please, call me Adam.”

  “Nice to see you again, Adam,” she replied, placing her hand in his but glancing back at Jake, puzzled. “Is this about the car?”

  He shook his head. “Adam’s here to keep an eye on things. On you.”

  She grimaced. “You’re kidding, right? A bodyguard?”

  Jake was unaffected by her skepticism. “While I’d prefer to not let you out of my sight, I understand that’s not very practical. Officer Marko— Adam will be with you when I can’t.”

  She scoffed a laugh. “Isn’t that a gross misappropriation of taxpayer dollars?”

  “He isn’t working for the city, Emma. He’s working for me.”

  She glanced at Adam, then back to Jake. Both men wore blank expressions, as if this was the obvious solution. She gripped Jake’s elbow and pulled him a few feet away. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m completely serious,” he said, his voice stern. “A man is murdering women who match your description exactly. You’ve been attacked, you’re getting threatening phone calls, and now your car’s been stolen. What more do you need, Emma?”

  Her breath caught as she stared at him in horror. He’d certainly gotten his point across.

  Barely controlled tension radiated off him. “Adam works the overnight shift, and he’s looking to make a little extra money. I’ve worked with him quite a few times. He’s a good guy. I need to figure out who the hell is threatening you, and I can’t keep you safe while I’m busy doing that.”

  She surveyed the crowds of people rushing up and down the sidewalk. “How is this going to work? I can’t have him sitting next to me all day while I’m working.”

  “He won’t be sitting next to you all day. He’ll be stationed outside the reception area. I’ve already spoken to MacMillan’s management. They know what’s going on.”

  “Wait.” She shook her head as everything he was saying sank in. When in the world had he done that? Of all the controlling, manipulative… “You arranged all this without talking to me?”

  He grasped her hands. “Because I knew you wouldn’t like it.”

  “Well, you were right,” she said and tried to pull away.

  He held on. “You need to let me do this. If you won’t let me move you somewhere safe, this is the only way I can protect you. Adam won’t bother you. If you need to leave the building, he’ll go with you. If you and your coworkers want to go out for coffee or lunch, he’ll follow at a safe distance. After a while, you’ll forget he’s there.”

  She found that hard to believe. She dropped her gaze to Jake’s chest, but he placed a finger under her chin.

  “I need you safe. Don’t fight me on this, Emma. You won’t win.”

  She wasn’t a fool. She knew she was in danger, so despite her anger at the way he’d taken over without consulting her, she’d go along with it. “At least let me pay him. I can’t let you do this on your own—”

  “I’m not worried about the money right now,” he insisted, shaking his head. “We’ll work that out later.”

  She released a long breath. “Okay. I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  “No,” Jake said. “You don’t.”

  As usual.

  For the next few days, Adam escorted Emma home from work, and once he’d performed the
apartment inspection she’d now accepted as standard procedure, he waited in the lobby for Jake’s arrival.

  As irritated as she’d first been at Jake’s plan, things went smoothly. He kept their interactions platonic, through breakfasts at the kitchen counter, dinners on the sofa, and hours of binge-watching television. She had to admit, she slept much better with him in her apartment. He’d said he would keep her safe, and he was doing just that. Whether out of genuine concern for her well-being, or simply to protect a witness and cover his own ass, it didn’t matter.

  She opened the apartment door shortly after Adam headed down to the lobby for the evening and found Jake leaning against the doorjamb with a bag of Chinese takeout and a bottle of white wine. “Special delivery,” he said in that deep, sensual voice that did things to her she really wished it wouldn’t.

  “Mmm, just what I ordered.” She stepped back and extended her arm toward the living room. “Come on in.”

  He set the food on the coffee table and checked all the rooms again, even though Adam had done a thorough sweep not long ago. Then, with a light stroke across her cheek, he brushed away a few wispy strands that had broken free of her ponytail. He took in her black yoga pants, fitted pink T-shirt, and matching fuzzy pink socks. “You look adorable.”

  “Well, I was thinking about going to my yoga class.” She led him to the sofa and dropped dramatically into it. “But then I remembered, I’m probably not allowed to do that anymore, am I?”

  “No,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Sorry.” He removed his sport coat and his gun holster and draped them across one of the nearby dining chairs before joining her on the sofa. “Yoga, huh? You must be very flexible.”

  Heat surged through her. She’d missed flirtatious Jake. Still, either he needed to stop making suggestive comments, or she needed to stop being affected by them.

  “You should come with me sometime,” she said. “It’s a great stress reliever.”

  His brow shot up. “I just might do that.”

  Her cheeks warmed with a blush as she realized the double meaning behind what she’d said. Maybe she was just as guilty.

  He opened the wine and filled the glasses before pulling the white cartons out of the bag. “Hungry?”

  She let out a sad little chuckle. “Not really.” The thought of food made her stomach twist lately. “I feel like we’re just waiting for something horrible to happen and there’s nothing we can do to prevent it.”

  She lifted her gaze to his and found him studying her intently.

  “I know. Believe me, I know.” He leaned back against the sofa, draped his arm across the cushion behind her, and jerked his head. “Come here.”

  She curled up next to him and he rested his chin on top of her head, running his fingers gently up and down her arm. She settled in against the warmth of his chest, and everything seemed right again. “Thank you for staying here these last few nights. I thought I’d be okay, bu—”

  “Shh.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, bringing on the sense of calm she seemed to find only in his presence. “I hate the idea of you being here alone, and I told you I’d keep you safe. Thank you for letting me do it.”

  He was thanking her? Of course he was. She was being a cooperative witness, not giving him a hard time over what needed to be done. But the way he held her now told her there was more to it. And this was what she needed, the comfort she’d been craving, the comfort she only felt with him.

  “I really like having you here with me,” she said. They were alone with dinner and wine, ready for what could turn into a perfect romantic evening. Everything about it felt good. Felt right. Why did the timing have to be so incredibly wrong?

  “I like being here with you, too.”

  She shifted to face him, lifted her hand to his chest, and fiddled with a button on his light blue shirt. “I know you said we need to keep things professional,” she said as her eyes fluttered up to meet his, “but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Emma…” he whispered as he cradled his arms around her.

  She laid her fingertips over the soft stubble on his cheek. “Maybe we both should stop thinking so much.”

  The muscles in his throat worked a hard swallow. “I can’t, Emma. I told you I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that.”

  “I promise, you won’t be taking advantage.”

  She’d been stuck in a self-imposed dry spell for almost three years, one no man had tempted her out of. Until now. How could she deny these feelings any longer? In the midst of the fear and uncertainty that had become her day-to-day life, she needed his warmth, his strength, the connection she’d never felt with anyone else. She needed him.

  His lips quirked into an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Emma. You have no idea how much I want to, but I can’t. I can’t risk losing my job.”

  She sighed deeply and laid her cheek on his shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry, too.”

  Hours later, she lay awake in bed, debating whether to return to Jake in the living room. The flicker of light bouncing along the hardwood underneath the bedroom door assured her the television was on. He was probably still awake. He slept even less than she did.

  She sat up, catching her own reflection in the mirror above the dresser, illuminated by the glow of a streetlamp outside. She ran a hand through her hair, untangled the waves, and lifted her silk robe off the foot of the bed.

  A soft knock came on the door, startling her. “Emma?” Jake called. “Are you awake?”

  She tied the sash of the robe at her waist, opened the door, and found him on the other side in nothing but his jeans with his phone in his hand. His jaw dropped as he swept his eyes up and down her body, and she instinctively pulled the robe closed across her chest. But as he stared a moment longer, she lightened her grip until the fabric hung loose once more.

  He lifted the phone as if he’d forgotten he was holding it and scrubbed a hand over his face. A text message glowed across the screen. “I have to go. It’s work.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the bedside table. Just after one in the morning. “This late?”

  He flashed a half-hearted smile. “The bad guys don’t work nine to five.”

  She shook her head. “No, I guess not.” She lifted her gaze to his as her stomach churned. “Is it him?”

  His jaw clenched, and he gave a solemn nod. “I think so.” He placed his hand on her cheek and ran his thumb lightly across her skin, never breaking her gaze. “Lock up behind me. I’ve called Adam back. He’s downstairs keeping an eye on the lobby. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  A wave of nausea came over her, and she remained quiet. What could she possibly say? The man who was after her had killed someone else.

  Again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jake parked behind the medical examiner’s van. Another victim. God, what he would’ve given to have stayed in the nice little fantasy world he’d created at Emma’s over the past week rather than having to face more of this shit. He desperately needed a break in this case.

  As usual, Mack had arrived at the Chelsea district crime scene first. Jake passed through the police barricade and made his way down yet another dark alley, past a pile of garbage bags. It was the most brutal scene yet. The victim lay slumped against the dark green metal dumpster with bruises and lacerations over much of her body. Her blue blouse had been torn open and her black skirt was hiked up around her waist. Again, the long, wavy brown hair, the telltale red hand marks on her throat, and the goddamned little purple flowers Jake was growing to hate scattered over her. The attacker had escalated, grown more agitated that he couldn’t get his hands on his ultimate goal.

  Emma.

  “We’ve got an ID on this one,” Mack announced. “Suzanne Ramsay. Twenty-five years old.”

  Jake squatted next to the victim, his stomach roiling as
an image of Emma in this exact position flashed through his mind. He would not let that happen. He ran the beam of his flashlight up and down the body, searching for anything that would give him a good lead. He noticed the scrap of paper peeking out from beneath her arm.

  He read it out loud. “‘Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.’” Jake looked up. “What the hell?”

  “Walt Whitman,” Mack said.

  Jake narrowed his eyes at his partner. “Very impressive, Professor. You Google that, too?”

  “What? Is it so hard to believe I might have a certain amount of literary expertise?”

  Jake snorted. “Actually, it is.”

  Mack flashed his middle finger.

  Jake took in the scene—the uniformed officers, detectives, and forensics specialists mingling in their quest for answers, and the squad photographer snapping pictures. His constantly clenched jaw was giving him a headache. How could all these guys keep coming up empty-handed?

  “What else have we got?” he asked Mack.

  “Housekeeping employee from the Dorchester Hotel came out to throw some garbage in the dumpster and found the body. I’m bringing her in for a statement. We found a room key in the victim’s purse. Two-eighteen. Al Marino’s up there now.”

  “Think I’ll pay him a visit.”

  Jake entered the Prohibition-era hotel and was immediately drawn to the ornate—though unlit—chandelier in the small lobby, mounted above a round wooden table holding an enormous floral arrangement. To his left, he found a lounge that had been shut down for the night by his fellow investigators. To the right was an old-fashioned cage elevator which he took upstairs.

  He scanned the cramped room, the maroon fleur-de-lis wallpaper and the black-and-white cityscape photographs hanging on it, the velvet-covered furnishings and beaded lighting fixtures. Definitely not his style.

  “Got anything?” he asked the detective on the scene.

  Al Marino met his gaze. Marino’s strengths lay in more technical knowledge, which Jake often lacked, so he wasn’t surprised to find his colleague adding the victim’s laptop computer to a box full of evidence. “Hotel records list a billing address in the city, so I’m trying to figure out why she was staying here in the first place.” He smoothed his graying mustache with his thumb and forefinger before he gestured toward the laptop. “I’ll need some time to dick around on this. We haven’t found a cell phone, but I’m hoping I can find some sort of online trail. I’ll see what I can come up with. I’m guessing an affair?”