Dangerous To Love

by Toni Anderson, Barbara Freethy, Dee Davis, Leslie A. Kelly, Cynthia Eden, J. Kenner, Meli Raine, Gwen Hernandez, Pamela Clare, Rachel Grant

  I snort with laughter just as both our phones begin to buzz.

  “Damn,” we say in unison. He climbs out of bed, giving me a fine view of his ass as he rummages in his pants pockets to find his phone. I jump out of bed to find my backpack, but by the time I get to my phone the buzzing’s over.

  It’s my morning alarm, but it’s Saturday. No work.

  Mark, on the other hand…

  “Shit,” he mutters.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Secrecy flashes in his eyes before he can hide it. He gets that blank look I’ve come to realize is a mask. It’s a way to protect who he really is on the inside from who he has to pretend to be on the outside.

  “Don’t,” I say in a voice filled with warning. “Don’t go into lock-down mode.”

  His eyes widen, nostrils flaring, lips drawn. He gives me a raw look.

  “You’re right,” he says with a ragged breath. “Habit.”

  “We have a lot of habits we need to break.” My words are so true I feel tears fill my eyes. “It’s not just you. It’s me, too.”

  He sets his phone down on his dresser and is in bed in seconds, cradling me in his arms.

  “I’m not on duty today, but this case with Amy is so big that we’re all pretty much on standby. I don’t want to turn on the television, but if I do, you’ll see that some hikers found a body in a canyon.”

  My whole being goes tense.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper.

  “It’s not Amy,” he reassures me. I let out a huge breath, not realizing I’d held it. “But it’s a woman who looks a lot like her, and who looks just like one of the suspected kidnapping victims.”

  “No. Oh, that poor woman.”

  I feel him swallow, hard, his neck against my back. Something about his body, his voice, sets me on edge.

  “There’s more,” he says reluctantly.

  I’m right.

  “More?”

  “The body. It was found—” He interrupts himself and makes a strange sort of groaning sound, like he can’t say what he needs to say next.

  I just wait him out.

  He inhales, his shoulders tense. Time is frozen. Whatever he’s about to tell me has something to do with Amy. I almost don’t want to hear it. As long as it’s not her body they found, I still have hope.

  “The body was found mangled.”

  “Mangled? Like an animal got to it?” Out in the canyons, there are plenty of predators. Wild cats, for one. It wouldn’t surprise me if a dead body got chewed on by an animal. I shudder at the thought, though.

  “No. Someone mangled her very deliberately. A human did…this.”

  A cold chill radiates up my back. “Mangled her…how?”

  Mark takes a deep breath and says, “She’s missing both arms and legs.”

  I jump up, separating my skin from his. My horror makes me instinctively move away from him for no reason I can understand.

  “She’s WHAT?”

  He grimaces. The pain of humanity is etched into his face.

  “I know. It’s disgusting. Her kidnappers did this.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The arms and legs were removed with surgical precision.”

  “And she wasn’t like this before?”

  He shakes his head.

  “No. She wasn’t.”

  Oh, God.

  Amy.

  I close my eyes and will myself to be logical. Rational. To think my way through this. I can’t be of any help to anyone, much less Amy, if I freak out.

  “Any leads on who did this?”

  Agony fills his face. “No. I wish. We’ve made it a federal case now. One of the women who was kidnapped is a confirmed Mexican citizen. Another is from Nevada, so it’s crossed state lines. Except I’m deep undercover, so the chief here doesn’t know that.”

  “He doesn’t know it’s a federal case?”

  A bitter grin takes over Mark’s expression. “Oh, he knows that. He’s pissed about it, too. Most small-town cops are. No one with any local power likes to have it taken away, but in this case, I can’t be outed. I’m still just Mark Paulson, the local cop. They have no idea I’m really DEA.”

  I nod, absorbing all this. Then I realize we’re talking about it all naked and in bed. The sun is streaming in and highlighting our bodies. It’s like we do this all the time. No big deal. Just having our morning coffee in bed, stripped down to nothing but our bare selves.

  Oh, and I lost my virginity last night.

  And my best friend’s been kidnapped by someone who cuts women’s arms and legs off.

  The room begins to spin.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Carrie? Carrie?” Mark’s voice sounds like it’s coming from the end of a very long hallway. He sits up and grabs me as I slide down, then gets me on my back, a pillow under my feet. I’m staring up at the ceiling fan. It’s spinning.

  Wait. No, it’s not.

  I am.

  A cool washcloth appears and Mark gently lifts my head. The shock of cold against the back of my neck feels so good. My heart isn’t pounding in my chest, for once. I’m not panicked. I’m not anxious. In fact, my blood feels like it’s as thick as cake frosting. It’s just clumped here and there in my body and barely moving.

  I catch a few words from Mark as he jumps around the room, moving with precision and speed. A warm blanket covers me. He shoves a straw in my face.

  “Drink,” he insists. “I think you’re in shock.” His voice isn’t tender. It’s clipped and all business.

  “In shock,” I murmur, then begin to giggle. This isn’t funny. Why am I laughing? I take a sip. It’s just water, but it feels good going down. I drink more, then close my eyes.

  Still spinning.

  I’ve been spinning for three years. Really. I think I’m only feeling it now because I can. Connecting with Mark, cleaving with him, gave me enough emotional space to see what my inner world is really like.

  I’m hopelessly in love with him. Heart, mind, body and soul.

  I’ve given him everything.

  And my life is such a mess.

  I’m a mess.

  I begin to weep. It’s a soft sound, the tears filling my eyes with a sense of relief. My throat tightens and the salty, tangy taste is like a kind of cleansing. Mark sets the glass of water on the nightstand and climbs under the blanket with me, wrapping me in his strong, warm arms. I cry slowly, as if I have a set amount of sorrow inside me and I need to spread it out. As if it’s too pressured, too much, and if I just let go without any control, it could flood the world.

  Plus, I can’t stop shaking.

  “I am so sorry, Carrie,” he mumbles in my ear. “This is all too much for you. You haven’t even been home for a full week. First, that car that tried to run you over, then you were working with the dean. Add in Claudia and our unfinished business. That asshole Eric at the university. And…last night.” His voice goes low as he mentions that.

  He presses his nude body against mine. I am suddenly acutely aware of how good this feels. Not in a sexual way. It’s a form of comfort, but a grown up one. We just are.

  “I’ve missed you so much. I respected your need to go, but hated every minute of it. And Joe’s arrest, the whole set-up…” He makes a groaning sound like someone who’s been fooled and is still frustrated by it. “I still don’t understand what’s going on in this town. At the university. But I do understand this.” He kisses the top of my head and caresses my back. His hands are so loving.

  With an enormous shudder, my body suddenly stops shaking.

  I take a deep, careful breath in and count to four in my head. Then out. Then in. Then out. The spinning slows down. My breathing takes on a steady pattern. My cheek is stuck to his bulging biceps by my wet tears. I’m snuggled in to his arms and as I breathe slowly, I smell him. I inhale his essence. I’m in a tight little safe place right now.

  I never, ever want to leave it.

  Bzzzzzzzz.

  Mark�
�s phone vibrates. He tenses.

  “It’s okay,” I say, then hiccup. “Answer it. You have to. I understand.”

  He unwraps one arm from my body and grabs the phone. Reads it. His eyes fill with a sick dread.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Minnie.”

  Alarm fills me. “Minnie?”

  He sets the phone down and sits up in the bed, his hand on my shoulder. Those topaz eyes take me in, evaluating me.

  “Elaine just took her to the hospital. She’s breaking down.”

  “Of course she is,” I say. “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Elaine says she’s been trying to reach you.”

  I sit up and look at my backpack through the open bedroom door. My phone’s in there.

  “I must have my ringer turned down.”

  “Should I text her back and let her know you’re here and safe? Her exact words are: ‘Took Minnie to hospital. Emotional breakdown. Is Carrie with you?’”

  Oh, man. It’s one thing to be with Mark like this. It’s a whole other game to admit to the world that we’re together together.

  Our eyes lock. He’s asking me the same question I’m pondering.

  A small smile tickles my lips. I feel guilty for being happy at a time like this, but I am. The spinning disappears. A sweet, warm sense fills me. I’m here, with Mark, and we’re together. Really together. He’s shown me his truths. His soul. His body. His heart.

  And I’ve shown him all of mine, right back.

  Why hide this?

  “Yeah,” I say with a grin, biting my lower lip. “Tell her I’m here. With you.”

  A burst of happiness spreads across his face. He looks at his phone screen, types a few words, and sends the text.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “I told her you’re naked in my bed.”

  I punch him lightly on the shoulder. “You did not!”

  “Did too.”

  I reach for the phone and he holds it up, taunting me. I get up on my knees and try to reach, but he’s so tall. So long. So lean and cut and—

  He groans. Our eyes meet, except his flit away and look down my body.

  “Jesus, Carrie, when you’re all stretched out like that in front of me, in the sunlight, I never want to leave this bed.”

  I return the favor, taking in his naked body with my eyes. “I see that,” I say pointedly, looking down. He’s, um, definitely at attention.

  Bzzzzz.

  Reality strikes. A wave of shame pours over me and I drop down from my knees, looking away. We shouldn’t be playing and teasing at a time like this. My God. What’s wrong with me?

  Mark scowls as he reads the new text. It’s not Elaine, I assume.

  “Shit,” he mutters. “The chief’s calling us all in. I gotta be at the station in fifteen minutes.”

  I sniff. The air smells like sex and sweat and the divine. “Of course you do.” The police found a body without limbs. I can’t believe it. My mind won’t process it. “You need a shower.”

  He gives me a leer. “Want to join me?”

  “That,” I say in an arched tone, “would delay you.” He shrugs and walks down the hallway, pretending to be offended by my no.

  As I walk past my backpack I hear a faint buzz.

  Oh, man.

  I can’t help myself. I unzip the pocket and pull out the phone.

  Eleven texts.

  Oh, geez.

  Most of them are from Cindy, one of the staff members at the no-kill shelter. With Minnie gone, she’s running the place.

  All of her texts are variations of begging for me to come in. Today is adoption day plus they have two Girl Scout troops coming, and…

  One of the texts is from Effie:

  Hello. This text is for Carrie. I don’t do these text things, so I hope she gets this. Please tell her to come to my house for coffee this weekend.

  She leaves a phone number. I stare at the phone, dumbfounded.

  The reality of the last twenty-four hours sinks in. Helping with Minnie. Going to work. The confrontation with Eric and The Claw. My cuts and bruises from Mark’s fake kidnapping. Coming back here. Having him pour out the truth to me. Sleeping with him.

  Sleeping with him again.

  I need a plan.

  First, I text Cindy back and tell her I’ll be there later today to help.

  Then, I read Elaine’s texts, which are all about Minnie, except a new one that just came in.

  It says:

  Time to plan the wedding?

  I groan. Great. By now, half the town knows Mark and I are back together.

  I really need a plan.

  I flip over to my To Do list on my phone and start tapping out what I need to do.

  The shower shuts off and Mark appears, a towel casually around his hips, held in place with one fisted hand. He’s dripping wet, a sheen of water on his muscled legs. The wetness makes the fine, coiled hair that covers his body darker.

  He really should be number one on my list of things to do.

  Bzzzz.

  “Damn,” Mark says in a huff, reaching for his phone. “All right, all right,” he mutters as he reads the text. “I get it, chief. I’m coming.” He walks to me, his body impossibly warm and lusciously wet.

  A kiss on the top of my head feels so chaste. So brotherly. So soul crushing.

  Ignoring my phone, I stand and reach for his towel, pulling it off. My palms go straight for his ass.

  “Carrie,” he groans, his own hands quick to find my still-bare breasts.

  Bzzz.

  Both our phones buzz in unison.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Fuck,” he mutters this time, padding away from me at a fast clip. I watch as his sun-kissed skin and toned body leaves. He returns in uniform, his black shirt perfectly ironed, fingers buttoning their way up, shirttails untucked.

  “Who irons your shirts for you?” I ask as I pass him on my way to the bathroom.

  He answers by grabbing me around the waist. This time, there’s no kiss on the forehead. The lush contours of his lips, tongue and mouth make my knees weak. I know it’s a cliché, but clichés can be real. My legs buckle and he holds me upright, passion and desire flowing between us.

  By the time he pulls away I’ve forgotten my own name.

  I’m completely nude and he’s fully dressed. The rasp of cloth against my bare skin is uniquely sensual, making me gently rub up and down against him as he caresses my cheek. He’s careful to avoid the bruised spot where I hit the concrete last night.

  His eyes light up with amusement as he realizes what I’m doing.

  Bzzz.

  “Fuck!” he snaps.

  “You already said that. And we already did,” I joke.

  “We didn’t fuck.”

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Carrie, that wasn’t fucking. That was lovemaking.” His voice deepens, going serious.

  Oh, God. As if I need this. As if I need to want him even more.

  “Yes,” I say, my voice tremoring. “Yes, it was.”

  He kisses me, soft and sweet. “And I want more of that. Fucking is nice, too, though,” he banters, eyes twinkling. “We’ll have to try both and see which one we like better.”

  I smack his chest and laugh. “I’m slowing you down for work.”

  He slaps my ass and turns away to finish dressing, then he reaches for me. His warm arms ground me, making me feel good again.

  “Some delays are better than others,” he declares. He’s hard against my thigh. Desire plumes through me. Again? How can I feel so much lust in one long, rolling line of arousal?

  A cold wave of shame smacks into my knees. I shouldn’t feel any of this right now. Minnie, Amy….it’s too much.

  He can tell.

  Mark gives me a touching look, then moves his hands to my shoulders. “I’m being inappropriate, aren’t I? I shouldn’t make passes at you, or joke at a time like this.” He lets out a small sigh, then looks out the window. Sunlight hi
ghlights the shiny blonde in his waves.

  “It’s gruesome. But when you work with gruesome stuff all day, the weeks and months and years go by and it all becomes part of life. If I can’t compartmentalize and put the violence and death into a locked room in my head, then I’ll go crazy.”

  His words make me reconsider everything I know.

  “I understand,” I whisper. My stomach still burns with horror.

  “I don’t think you do, Carrie.” I look up at him with wide eyes. “And that’s okay,” he says hurriedly. “No one understands it right away.” He swallows, hard. “My mom and grandfather thought they were removing me from a life filled with violence when they got me away from my biological father.” He grunts, the sound dismissive and filled with pain. “Didn’t really do much, now, did it? Took me years to realize I’m not a depraved human if I don’t fall apart every time I see a dead body, or have to interrogate an injured victim.”

  “You can’t,” I say simply. “You couldn’t do your job if you fell apart all the time.”

  His eyes flash with surprise. “Yes. Exactly. You do get it.”

  “Try keeping yourself together while video cameras record your every move, the media waiting for the big drug dealer’s daughter to fall apart on camera at his sentencing,” I reply, my voice so full of bitterness I could bottle and sell it in grocery stores. “I understand, all right. You can’t break down. If you do, it helps no one.” Least of all yourself, I think.

  “I wish you didn’t understand,” he murmurs, eyes troubled. “I wish…well, there are a lot of things I wish. But I don’t have a time machine.”

  “If you did, my dad would be alive. And that poor woman, the one who they just found.” I shiver. “You’re sure it’s not Amy?”

  “The chief says no.”

  “Thank God.”

  Mark’s eyes fill with a kind of darkness I can’t name. “I’m glad I don’t have to call Minnie and tell her we found her daughter, dead. But that phone call has to be made to a different mother, Carrie.”

  He gives me a quick peck on the lips.

  “Someone,” he says over his shoulder as he walks out the front door, “is about to find out that their daughter is dead. And I probably have to make that phone call.”

  The front door opens. My head is spinning like an overturned car with wheels still in motion.