by Dawn Altieri
Emma stilled, afraid if she moved or spoke he might not continue.
“It was my second year on the job, working patrol out in Northport. Never saw any real action besides traffic tickets and the occasional drug bust. We got reports about a string of home invasions in those hideous mansions near our beach house out in Bayville. Four of them in three weeks. They were after jewelry, money, electronics, anything they could easily grab. My dad was out on a charter boat with some of his buddies, and I tried to tell my mom to stay in Northport for the day, to not go out to the beach house alone, but she wanted to get her garden going for the season. She wouldn’t listen to me, and I didn’t have time to argue with her. I had to get to work. I was the new guy. I always got stuck with the weekend shifts.”
Emma fought the shudder that ran through her as she guessed where his story was going. She pressed a kiss to his chest, but he was rigid, likely shoring up his resolve to get through telling her.
He paused, took a long, controlled breath. “She’d been out in the garden and came around to the front of the house to bring a bin of weeds and brush out to the curb for garbage pickup. It was just a kid, seventeen years old, high as a kite, trying to break into one of the neighbors’ houses for some cash so he could score a fix. He must’ve realized she saw him, and he got scared, so he shot her.”
A cold shudder passed through her. “Oh, Jake. I’m so sorry.”
“By the time I got there, he’d offed himself, too. Which was probably for the best, because I swear to God, if he hadn’t, I would’ve done it for him. When the media picked up the story, they ran pictures of him when he was younger. All sweet and innocent-looking as a middle-schooler—not the drugged-out prick he’d grown up to be, who didn’t deserve anybody’s respect half as much as my mother did.”
Emma tightened the arm she had snaked around Jake’s waist, hesitant to speak, afraid to say the wrong thing and make him stop talking. Tears filled her eyes again—tears for the pain he’d kept hidden for so long, pain he was now entrusting to her. Trust was such a rare commodity in his life. Possibly even nonexistent until he’d begun opening up to her. Which made sense, considering the terrible things he’d seen.
He shifted beneath her, but still held her against him, as if afraid she might get up and run away from him once she heard his story.
“I got so damned frustrated, stuck on street patrol, going up against shitheads like him after they’d already screwed up someone else’s life because they didn’t give a crap about their own. I moved into narcotics first chance I got, to try to get punks like him off the streets before they ended up doing the same thing. Eventually, they promoted me to homicide.”
She lifted her head, gazing at him through the blur of tears. He remained stoic, his features not betraying anything but the hard-ass attitude he hid behind every day with everyone but her. But she felt the rest of it—the fear and the guilt, the sadness—coming off him in waves, like the water that still streamed down over them.
“I was a cop,” he said bleakly, “sworn to serve and protect, but I couldn’t even protect my own family. Every asshole I put behind bars? None of them made up for that. Not one. And getting this damned promotion won’t change anything, either, but I just need it, you know?”
Her heart clenched. She’d known his career was important to him, but she hadn’t fully understood until now. “You’re up for a promotion?”
The look on his face lacked his usual confidence and determination, but he gave her a nod. “Each time I move up, I think it’s going to make the guilt go away somehow, but it never does. If I hadn’t gone in to work that day, if I had just made her stay home—”
“What happened to your mom was not your fault.” But it explained a lot, his need to protect Emma now, his constant attempts to control her every move. “You just said it isn’t my fault those other women were murdered, either. We both need to stop blaming ourselves.”
His blank expression made it hard to know if he believed her any more than she believed herself.
He shook his head. “When Justin was killed, I failed all over again, failed you. I can’t tell you what it did to me, knowing the kind of pain you were in and not being able to do anything about it. Not being able to just figure out who the hell did it—”
“Stop.” She cupped his cheek in her palm. “You did everything you could to find whoever was responsible for that hit and run. You are a beautiful, dedicated man, but there was nothing else you could’ve done for me. There was nothing else you could’ve done for your mom, either. And now? You’ll find this creep. I know you will.”
He pulled back, gently prying her fingers from his face, but then he leaned in and covered her mouth with his so tenderly, she melted inside.
“I promise, I’m gonna get you through this, Emma. I swear, I’m going to catch this son-of-a-bitch, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Jake bounded up the spiral staircase, trying to remember where he’d put the silver cufflinks his mother had given him when he graduated the police academy years ago. He so rarely had an occasion to wear them. He shuffled through some things on top of the dresser, then remembered the old wooden jewelry valet he’d stashed in the walk-in closet. He brought the box down from the shelf.
“Yes,” he said triumphantly when he opened it and found the cufflinks, along with the Movado watch she’d also given him.
Tonight would be four long hours of hell…if he and Emma stayed that long. Four long hours of checking over his shoulder, not letting her out of his sight or his reach.
The lieutenant’s plan wasn’t complicated. Show up, spend a little time outside where the reporters normally lined up to interview the celebrities and top brass in attendance, and let SWAT do their thing if anyone in the crowd looked suspicious. The annual gala was always well publicized, so they were betting on their very observant suspect making an appearance.
They might be able to spot someone suspicious lurking along the periphery, attempting not to be seen. With such a heavy police presence and the added security Jake had insisted on, the perp wouldn’t get close enough to grab Emma. If he’d believed the killer would be able to get anywhere near her, he never would have consented to the plan. He’d have quit first.
Meanwhile, his adrenaline was already on overdrive, and they hadn’t even left the apartment.
“Hey, babe, can you help me a second?” he called out. He pushed through the partially open bathroom door, fumbling with one of the cufflinks. He glanced up to see her leaning over the bathroom sink toward the mirror as she applied her eye makeup, wearing nothing but a black lace bustier and matching panties. “Holy shit,” he mumbled under his breath.
Startled, she dropped her eyeliner pencil. “Get out of here,” she said as she shoved against his chest.
“What is this?” He grabbed her waist and stood his ground as she attempted to push him backward through the door. “Look at you. How am I supposed to make it through this thing tonight knowing you’re wearing this?”
“You weren’t supposed to see me in it until later.”
“Well, you should know I don’t like to procrastinate.”
His mouth landed hungrily on her neck. She tried to resist him, but her hands loosened on his chest, and she wasn’t trying very hard. He slid his palms down her back, over her silky panties as he continued to lick and nibble just below her ear. She grasped his hands and tried to pull them away, but he wasn’t giving in.
“We’re going to be late for the dinner,” she protested.
“Oh, trust me, baby, this won’t take long.” He leaned back to get another glimpse of her. The urge to make her his before he threw her into the path of danger tonight thoroughly consumed him. “Christ, Emma—”
He drew her in close and kissed her hard, and when they stumbled backward against the countertop, he lifted her up onto the edge. He pushe
d between her legs, grinding against the lace of her panties. Then hooked his thumbs under the fabric and tugged. “How attached are you to these?” he asked against her mouth.
She pulled back to look into his eyes, her own dark and heated with desire. “Meaning…?”
He kissed her again, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth. “I’m about ready to rip them off you.”
She laid her hand on his bare skin between the open buttons of his white dress shirt, driving him away. “Easy there, tiger. They’re brand new.” With her palms on the countertop, she lifted her hips so he could slide the panties off her in a more civilized fashion.
He ran his hands up her legs, squeezing her thighs and spreading them wide, and when he slid his thumb through her delicate folds, she was already hot and wet for him. “Ready as always, Ms. Sloane.”
She gripped him firmly through his pants. “Likewise, Detective.” His mouth crushed into hers with a groan as she tore open his zipper and stroked him, just as her body soon would. He reached into his pocket to pull out a condom. “Really? You just happen to have one in the pocket of your tuxedo pants?”
“What?” He grinned, air pumping forcefully in and out of his lungs as he sheathed himself. “I never know when you’re going to take advantage of me. I have to be prepared.” He pulled her arms up around his neck and greedily rammed into her. She folded her legs around his waist, drawing him in farther.
His movements were fast and forceful as he held her hips in place, claiming her, branding her. The craving overwhelmed him. Being inside her, even frenzied and rushed like this, was intoxicatingly powerful. She was his, damn it. Whether she was ready to accept it or not, she belonged with him, and he belonged with her…and not just like this. No goddamned delusional serial killer would ever get near her. He’d make damned sure of it.
Her frantic pace and pleading moans spurred him on, and soon her muscles tensed, hot and tight around him. “God, Emma,” he gasped, crashing into her one last time before he came with her in a lust-fueled haze.
He slumped against her, one hand on the countertop behind her supporting them both, and the other banded around her waist. He struggled to slow his breathing as he buried his face in her neck.
“Baby, you don’t even know what you do to me…” He covered her mouth with his as the last of his spasms subsided with pulsating twitches deep within her. He pressed his forehead against hers. “If I could figure out a way to spend the rest of my life inside you, I’d do it in an instant.”
She laid a heavy hand on his cheek, obviously exerting what little energy she had left. “That would have sounded so much more romantic if we weren’t in the bathroom.”
“Are you saying this isn’t romantic?” He pulled away and snapped off the condom, reached down to pick up her panties from the floor, and tossed them at her playfully. “Come on. You’re going to make us late.”
“Why, you little—” she shrieked. She jumped off the counter to swat his ass as he scooted out of the room.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Jake never realized it before, but that spiral staircase made for a pretty grand entrance. Not long ago, Emma had come down those stairs wearing his old, worn out shirt and nothing else, and she’d taken his breath away. Now she appeared in a ravishing sapphire-blue evening gown and had exactly the same effect.
The perfectly fitted garment hugged her curves precisely, and the end of the train reached the base of the staircase several seconds after she did. Her long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in glamorous waves, resting lightly on the swell of her breasts.
“My God,” he said breathlessly as she drifted toward him. “You look exquisite.”
Her eyes raked over him in his tuxedo. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Detective.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cufflinks and placed them in the palm of her hand. “You had me so thoroughly distracted earlier, I forgot to ask you to help me with these.”
She laughed, that angelic sound he would never get enough of. He held out one wrist, then the other as she fastened the cufflinks. Then she wiggled his bow tie to straighten it and took a step back to admire him.
“Perfect,” she said softly.
“Likewise, Ms. Sloane.”
But something was missing.
He picked up a black velvet box from the dining table. “I have something for you.” He handed her the box, and she gazed up at him with uncertainty. “Go ahead,” he said.
She slowly opened the box and gasped at the pair of oval chandelier earrings, each with a line of small diamonds surrounding a sapphire in the center. A perfect match for the gown that she’d been hiding in his closet for the past few days.
She glanced up at him, her mouth hanging open. “Jake, they’re beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he replied quickly. “Those earrings don’t hold a candle to you.”
She shook her head. “These must have cost—”
He placed a gentle finger over her lips. “Don’t worry about what they cost. You’re worth it.”
She offered him a shy smile. “I love them.”
And I love you.
It would have been so easy to let the words slip out, to stop pretending she didn’t mean the fucking world to him. To tell her he wouldn’t survive if something happened to her tonight—or ever. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
She didn’t know about the lieutenant’s plan, couldn’t guess that telling her he loved her now would have felt too much like saying goodbye, just in case. No way would he do that. He planned on having plenty of time to tell her later. Again and again and again.
“Thank you again for inviting me tonight,” she said.
“Oh, you’ve never been to one of these police functions,” he said with a grimace. “Don’t thank me yet.”
He wished like hell he could let her in on the plan, but his lieutenant had threatened to take him off the case and go forward without him if he did. O’Shea didn’t want to take a chance she would back out. And O’Shea didn’t have to tell Jake he’d be passed over for that promotion if he refused to follow orders.
He removed the diamond studs she was currently wearing and took the box back from her. His stomach churned as he pulled the first earring from the box and felt the tiny NYPD device mounted on the back of it. An overwhelming sense of betrayal washed over him, but he forced it down. He had no choice.
He gently put the new earrings on her and smiled. “Simply stunning. I’m going to be the envy of all my colleagues when I walk in with you on my arm.”
She managed a wicked grin. “Really, Detective. Saying all these lovely things to me when just moments ago you were fucking me senseless on the bathroom counter.”
He nipped teasingly at her lips. “Such a filthy mouth.”
“You have no idea.” With a hand on the back of his neck, she tugged him to her, kissing him hard and sucking suggestively on his tongue.
“You really don’t want to go to this thing tonight, do you?”
She pulled back. “I do want to go. So we better leave now, because if I stand here kissing you for one more minute, we’re never going to make it.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Arriving at the Annual Police Foundation Gala, Jake led Emma slowly up the cordoned-off red carpet leading to the grand entrance of the venue hotel. He gripped her waist and kept her close by his side as he stopped to exchange pleasantries with his colleagues.
Excitement filled her. Under the bright lights, she felt like a movie star on display. With the occasional celebrity sighting, the chatter of reporters, and the flash of photographers, the scene felt more like a Hollywood film premier than a police department charity event.
It was a lot to take in all at once, and a trickle of anxiety seeped into her veins. She really was on display out here on the sidewalk in front of all the onlookers and medi
a. The heavy police presence all around them should have calmed her, but it didn’t. She suddenly wondered why Jake had brought her to such a public event, when up until now he’d been adamantly against her even going outside. And wasn’t he worried about his colleagues realizing the extent of their relationship, after insisting they needed to keep it a secret from the department?
They caught up with Mack, Lieutenant O’Shea, and his wife, Linda—an elegant, almost silver-haired lady who exuded grace and style in a shimmering golden gown. Linda was clearly the matriarch of the group of younger detectives and their spouses. For a moment, Emma imagined herself one day taking on a similar role next to Jake, but she chased the thought away. No matter how wonderful things seemed to be between them now, he’d never actually expressed any desire to continue seeing her after the investigation was over.
The crowd thinned as more people made their way inside to the hotel’s ballroom, ready to find their tables and get the evening started. But oddly, Jake kept her out on the sidewalk with his arm circling her waist, chatting casually with their fellow attendees. Except his eyes seemed hyper aware and vigilant, scouring the crowd and exchanging discreet glances with Mack and Adam.
Emma frowned a little at Adam when she saw he had once again left his girlfriend behind. What was that all about? Did he not like bringing her to work events? Or maybe she didn’t like going to them.
“Detective Quinn.” A nearby cameraman snapped pictures while the reporter next to him thrust her microphone toward Jake over the barricade. “Any new leads in the Back Alley Strangler investigation?”
He gave a slight shake of his head and a thin smirk that Emma recognized immediately as simmering irritation. One question from a reporter, and he’d had enough.
“No comment,” he said before finally spinning her toward the main entrance.
Once inside the opulent hotel ballroom, her nerves calmed. Jake’s mood also lifted as soon as they made it inside, leaving her to wonder again why they’d spent so much time outside on the red carpet. She’d ask him about it later.