Dangerous Desires

by Dawn Altieri

“I know.” A gush of air escaped him as he pushed his hair back from his forehead again. “I saw that you called, it’s just been a freaking nightmare here today.” He reached out to her shoulder to pull her to him, but she stiffened—painfully aware of all the eyes around her as she stood in the middle of the precinct. She couldn’t let him hug her here.

  Her stomach burned with a new wave of guilt. She’d only added to all the other crap with which he’d been dealing.

  He dropped his hand from her shoulder. “You didn’t answer my text this morning,” he said in a low voice.

  “I didn’t see it right away. I was in meetings most of the morning.”

  He nodded slightly, but his grim expression remained unchanged.

  “Do you have time for lunch?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t.” His eyes remained frozen on hers. He placed a hand on her lower back and directed her toward the door. “Screw it. Come on. I’ll drive.”

  He remained silent as he drove them to a diner several blocks away from the precinct. She’d considered suggesting they walk, but given his mood, it was probably best not to say anything. Besides, he wouldn’t have agreed to her walking around in broad daylight, anyway.

  They grabbed seats in a booth near the back, and he picked up the menu without a word, tension radiating off him.

  Her stomach continued to churn. She’d pushed too far, showing up unexpectedly at the precinct. Overstepped the boundaries of whatever this was between them, or whatever it wasn’t. He’d told her he didn’t have room in his life for a relationship while he was still building his career, so he certainly wouldn’t want someone who acted like this, worrying where he was, wondering what he was doing, putting even more pressure on him than he already had.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.” His eyes were still on the menu. “I’ve been doing damage control all morning.”

  She tried to read her own menu, but the words were nothing but a blur. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Is it true? The investigation is stalled?”

  He glanced at her without completely lifting his head, peering over his menu through frustrated eyes with his jaw clenched and that muscle twitching. “We’ll probably get something off the surveillance footage from your apartment, but the building manager is taking his time handing it over. Other than that, we haven’t had a solid lead in a while, not even after we released that sketch. It would help if the media stayed the hell out of it.”

  “Hi, folks.” The young waitress startled them. “What can I get for you today?”

  “I’ll take a cheeseburger and a Coke,” he replied. His gaze remained fixed on Emma.

  “I’ll have the same. Diet Coke.” It didn’t matter what she ordered. Her stomach was in knots. She had no idea how she’d manage to get food down.

  Once the waitress stepped away, Jake leaned back against the booth. “Okay, go ahead. Ask.”

  Emma’s mouth fell open. His calm, even tone might have frightened her if she hadn’t gotten to know him as well as she had over the last few weeks. As usual, his expressions, his words, his demeanor, remained completely controlled. The phone conversation she’d witnessed at the precinct was likely only the tip of the iceberg. He was wound so tight she feared he’d eventually explode.

  “Ask what?” she said.

  “I can tell you have questions, and I told you, you can ask me anything. What do you want to know?”

  She didn’t know where to start. They’d be placing their dinner orders by the time she asked all her questions. “Well, before I ask anything, I’m sorry if I made you angry.”

  He softened instantly as a look of remorse washed over him. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the situation. I’m angry that I’m in the middle of an investigation, and my face and my name are on every street corner newsstand in the whole damned city.” He leaned toward her across the table. “But I’ve never been angry at you. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”

  She was overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “You’re doing just fine.” Maybe he really did want to try to figure this out. Maybe all her assumptions had been wrong. “Pretend it has nothing to do with me. Pretend I’m a friend and we’re just talking. Tell me whatever you think is important.”

  Something in him shifted, as though she’d finally broken through the wall he’d put in place. Some of the tension he’d been holding faded. “I’ve got three victims, all with similar physical descriptions, all with similar MOs, lilac petals, and these damned quotes. I’m trying to figure out what the hell it all means. Having my face and my name plastered all over the city is not going to help me do that.”

  She could do this, be there for him, a shoulder for him to lean on. She’d prove it to him. She’d prove it to herself. “What sort of MO are we talking about?”

  “Strangulation.” He answered simply, and the rigid purse of his lips made it clear that was as specific as he was willing to get on the subject.

  The waitress returned with their drinks, giving Emma an unwelcome moment to let that information sink in.

  When the waitress left, he took both Emma’s hands in his. “The look on your face is killing me right now. This is what I wanted to avoid, having you get wrapped up in all th—”

  “I am wrapped up in this, whether you like it or not. I know I told you to pretend I’m not involved, but we’re not talking about some random investigation. He’s after me.”

  The pained twist to Jake’s features assured her she didn’t need to remind him.

  “My point is,” he said, “I can’t bring this home to you every night, even if you are involved in it. I just can’t. I’ve seen other guys get eaten alive by cases like this, along with their relationships, and I don’t want that to happen with us. If there’s anything you need to know, I will tell you. I promise.”

  Us. He’d said relationships, and us. She could try to tell herself his choice of words meant nothing, but there was no denying the thrill of hearing them.

  His eyes pleaded with her, and she made the choice to trust him, to accept that he wanted to protect her from the horrors he dealt with every day, from the horrors of this case in particular. She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat as she prepared to push on. “Okay. So. What quotes are you talking about?”

  His eyes grew wide as he dropped her hands. “Shit. I shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

  She waited, but he didn’t continue. “Can you talk about it?”

  He leaned against the back of the booth. “There have been these scraps of paper on all the victims with literary quotes on them. Shakespeare and Walt Whitman and Hemingway.”

  A strange excitement bubbled up inside her. This, she could help with. “Can I see them? I minored in literature. Maybe I can figure something out.”

  A hint of a smile graced his lips. Maybe even a flicker of trust?

  “I don’t have them with me,” he said, “but I’ll get them for you.”

  “Good.” That tiny seed of hope sprouted once again. He might let her in. He might open up to her.

  And he’d said us.

  She snapped out of her optimistic moment. She had another question to ask. “Is that newspaper article going to be a problem? I mean, it can’t be good having your name and picture get out. Doesn’t that make you an easy target?”

  The thought of him being any kind of target sent a burn from her stomach and straight into her throat. God, this was exactly the sort of thing she’d been afraid of. If anything happened to him—

  His eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so. I mean there’s always a possibility that a psycho like this would go after an investigator, but that sort of thing is pretty rare. And it doesn’t seem like this guy’s angle. If anything, the public attention will spur him on, make him feel like he’s beating us. But the department psychologists are working up a profile, and he’s got very specific v
ictims.” Jake stopped, as if he suddenly remembered just how specific the victims were. “So, no, I’m not a target.”

  Relief flooded through her. She might have more questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask them.

  “Emma, I know I’m not handling this well. This is all new to me. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to shield anyone from all the bullshit on a case.”

  She laid her fingers over his forearm. “I’m not some delicate flower. I’ve experienced my share of death, too. You don’t have to shield me from anything.”

  “Yes, I do. You may think I don’t, because you don’t know all the details, but trust me, I do. This is far beyond the realm of anything you’ve experienced, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” He clenched his jaw. “I need to leave this shit at the door at the end of the day. It’s the only way I can handle it all. I don’t want you worrying about it…or about me. And I also don’t want you to be scared. I’d understand completely if you wanted to get the hell away from all this and not look back. I can put you anywhere you want to go.”

  Wait. What?

  She gripped his hand just as hard as he’d held hers. Running away from it all—running away from Jake—was not an option. Not now she’d felt that spark of trust from him. She could be stronger for him. For herself. She had to be.

  “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Jake double-parked the Tahoe in front of McMillan Investments. His mood had lifted now that he’d had something to eat and time to decompress with Emma. And for her to tell him she planned on sticking around…even if it was too much to hope she actually meant long-term.

  He turned to her, lifting his hand to her cheek. “Thank you for getting me out of there this morning. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”

  She leaned into his palm. “Answer your phone next time.”

  “If it means you’ll just show up out of nowhere, I may never answer my phone again.” He leaned over the console to kiss her, just as the driver behind them honked his horn. Jake grumbled as he flicked a switch to activate the Tahoe’s red-and-blue lights. He pulled off his seat belt and stepped out—flashing the gun concealed beneath his jacket just long enough for the driver of the other car to see it—and came around to Emma’s door to help her step down.

  “I thought those lights were only for emergencies,” she said.

  “This is an emergency.” He scanned the crowd around them, but no one was paying them any attention, so he planted his hands on either side of her, pinning her to the vehicle, and leaned in for a desperate kiss. Her hands went to his chest, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer as he invaded her mouth hungrily.

  “That sounds like an abuse of power, Detective,” she said, catching her breath.

  “You want to see an abuse of power?” He nipped at her lips with his own. “I’ll bring my cuffs home tonight.”

  He swore he caught a glimmer of intrigue in her eye. Little did she know he was only half joking. He wanted nothing more than to take her home and have his way with her, to rid himself of all the pent-up tension and frustration that seemed to be in never-ending supply lately.

  “Why don’t we head out to the Island for a few days?” The words fell out of his mouth before he’d even fully considered them.

  “Really?” She pulled back in disbelief. “What about work?”

  “Tell them you need some time off. They know what’s going on. It’s not safe for you here, anyway.”

  “I meant you. What about the investigation?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t had a vacation since I transferred to NYPD. I deserve a few days. We’ve got a whole team on this case. If something comes up, they’ll call and I’ll come back. Let’s just do it. Let’s go.”

  “Okay,” she said and kissed him again. “I’ll go tell Stuart. When do you think you’ll be done tonight?”

  “Hopefully not too late, but you know I can’t guarantee anything. I’ll call you as soon as I know for sure.” He kissed her one last time, leaned away, and dropped his arms to free her.

  She sauntered toward Adam where he waited at the entrance to the building, but she turned to glance back at Jake. “See you later, Detective.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Jake hadn’t realized how much he needed a break from the city until he was in the SUV on his way out of it. It had been ten days since the last victim was discovered. He didn’t want to admit it, but he had a nagging feeling it wouldn’t be long before the next one turned up.

  The investigation had hit a brick wall. Forensics had come up with a few partial prints and DNA samples, but without a suspect to match them to, they were all but useless. Al Marino was still making his way through the accounts on the dating website, and Mack was sorting through surveillance recordings from Emma’s apartment on the evening of the break-in. Jake called to check in before leaving for the Island, and he’d somehow fought the urge to drive straight to the precinct to help instead.

  Now all he could do was wait.

  He’d made good time on the drive out to the Bayville house, and he was certain no one had followed them but Adam, who’d agreed to come along for a small bonus. He and his girlfriend would be staying at a nearby bed and breakfast on their own mini-vacation, unless Jake needed him. Jake would probably owe Adam half his life savings by the time this was over, but it didn’t matter, as long as Emma was safe.

  He’d just finished unloading the SUV at the house when his phone vibrated in his pocket. “No, no, no!” he muttered angrily as he slammed the rear door. He yanked the offending device out of his pocket and saw Al Marino’s number on the screen. “Al, this better be fucking good.”

  “It might be.”

  “Damn it, Al, don’t dick me around. I just got here.” Of course he hadn’t told his colleagues he wouldn’t be vacationing alone. He wasn’t that stupid.

  “You know I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.” Papers shuffled on Al’s end of the line. “Patrol picked up Windsor a few minutes ago. Just got back from a trip he claims was business. Figured you’d want to know.”

  “Good.” Jake’s veins pumped pure adrenaline at the thought of finally getting a chance to question Windsor.

  “He’s got plane tickets and hotel receipts that put him in Dallas,” Marino added, “so it could very well be true, a dead end.”

  “What about the surveillance footage from the apartment?”

  “Mack’s still going through it. I’m hoping he’ll have something by the time you get back. That is, assuming you’re coming back.”

  Mack and Marino could handle it without him, and with suspicions swirling in his lieutenant’s head about his objectivity on the case, Jake needed to tread carefully. But there was no way he could let Windsor slip out of this. Jake had the reputation of a rabid dog in the interrogation room, one that didn’t let up until he got what he needed. If anybody could break Windsor, it’d be him.

  His chest tightened as he glanced toward the house. Emma emerged in the doorway with her face contorted with concern. He held up a finger to tell her he’d be one more minute.

  “Yeah, Al. I’m coming back.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  After saying goodbye to Jake and watching him drive away toward the city, Emma turned to Adam where he’d set up camp on the couch. He had his laptop, his cup of iced coffee, and his handgun at his waist. Everything he needed for an afternoon of babysitting.

  “We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this,” Emma said, earning his weary smile. “Not the most exciting assignment you’ve ever had, I would imagine.”

  “A lack of excitement is usually a good thing in these situations.”

  She chuckled. “Well, I guess you have a point. Where’s your girlfriend?”

  “Back at the B&B. Sunning herself on the deck, if I know her.”

&nb
sp; “Hmm.” Sun sounded good. Too bad Emma wasn’t allowed outside. But she did have some music and a good book.

  Determined to make the most of it, she headed up to the bedroom and set up a camp of her own. Her ability to concentrate was shot, though, and it wasn’t long before she gave up on her novel. She rose from the bed and glanced out the window to survey the backyard. The place really needed…something. Flowers, shrubs, anything to liven it up and make it feel like a home. The thought had occurred to her on their first visit to the house, but now that the neighboring properties were all blooming with the colors of late spring, the stark contrast of Jake’s barren yard seemed so much more obvious.

  A knock on the front door interrupted her thoughts and made her jump. She peered down from the top of the stairs as Adam looked through the peephole with his hand on the gun at his waist.

  “Hello,” a woman’s sing-song voice called out. “It’s your new neighbor.”

  Adam glanced up at Emma with a questioning look, but she only shrugged in return as her blood pressure gradually returned to normal. The woman sounded harmless enough. Adam opened the door as Emma descended the steps.

  The woman—probably in her mid-forties—was attractive and well dressed in khaki shorts and a nautically-styled top. “Paula Greenberg,” she announced, waving toward the mini-mansion across the street. “Right across the way. We’ve all been wondering when you’d be moving in.” Her shoulder-length, bottle-blond curls jiggled as she swept her arm toward the surrounding houses. “When we saw the boards come off, we were so excited the house had finally been sold.” She glanced inside the living room. “May I?”

  “Sure,” Emma said as she gestured for the woman to come in. “I’m Emma, and this is Adam.” She realized the names would mean nothing to their unexpected visitor. “The house hasn’t been sold. We’re here with Jake Quinn. He isn’t here right now, but he still owns it.”

  “Oh, Jake, of course,” Paula said. “Oh, well. We were all kind of hoping someone was finally going to spruce this place up. Jake is virtually never here, and the house is in dismal condition.”