Grave Intentions

by Sjoberg, Lori

  No. Even with her head in a fog, she knew this wasn’t right. Not him. Not ever. She shook her head again, struggling to regain some semblance of clarity. For a fleeting moment her mind cleared, and she pushed back against his chest. “Angelo, no!”

  “When’s our next appointment?” Adam asked. He was standing in front of the refrigerator with the door wide open. “Do I have time for a beer?”

  David checked his watch. “Yeah, you’re good. We don’t have anything scheduled until a little after midnight.”

  “Cool.” Adam pulled out a bottle of Sam Adams and unscrewed the cap. “Sorority Slayers 2 starts in ten minutes.” He sauntered over to the couch and Buford jumped onto the cushion beside him.

  “Wonderful.” David turned his attention back to the map he’d pulled up on his computer. Tonight’s assignment was on the south side of town, not too far from the Orange County lockup. Two fatalities, six minutes apart. In spite of the heavy police presence, the area remained a hotbed of gang activity, making the news on an almost nightly basis. They’d be lucky to make it in and out without getting shot, stabbed, or arrested by Orlando’s finest.

  The sound of voices outside caught David’s attention. It sounded like Sarah, and she didn’t sound happy. And when he heard her shout a desperate, “No!” he felt an immediate, instinctive pull toward the door.

  “Everything all right?” he asked when he poked his head outside. He found Sarah leaning against the door to her apartment, her skin flushed and her eyes glassy. A tall, dark haired guy had his arm braced against the door by her head. His other hand was on her waist, and she sure as hell didn’t seem happy about it.

  David wasn’t exactly overjoyed with the situation either. In fact, the sight of another man touching Sarah ignited emotions dark and primal, a reaction that caught him completely off guard.

  He had no business interfering with her life. She was a grown woman, fully capable of taking care of herself. And yet he found himself stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind him.

  Sarah’s eyes darted in David’s direction and a look of pure relief washed over her. “David!” she said, her slurred speech overly enthusiastic.

  Tall, Dark and Slimy didn’t look nearly as thrilled. Muscles tense, his gaze slanted over to David, a scowl darkening his finely chiseled features. “Everything is fine,” he said, his Italian accent clipped.

  “Yeah. Angelo was just saying good night,” Sarah said, the words coming out slow and muddled, like she was struggling to complete a coherent sentence. She pushed his hand off her hip and then reached up and patted his cheek. “Thanks for dinner … and the ride home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I will pick you up in the morning,” Angelo said, the anger radiating from him almost palpable.

  “No, don’t do that,” Sarah said with a wave of her hand. She shook her head and her eyes appeared to momentarily lose focus. “Jackie’s right around the block. She’ll give me a ride.” She opened the door and stumbled inside. “Night!”

  And then she was gone. The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, and David heard the unmistakable sound of a chain sliding into place.

  Angelo glared at David, a look of murder in his eyes. Boy, was he pissed, David thought with a growing sense of satisfaction. He hoped the asshole was mad enough to try something stupid; then he’d have a good excuse to pound the living daylights out of him.

  “I would appreciate it next time if you’d mind your own business,” Angelo said, his voice strained with barely contained anger.

  “I was minding my own business.” David leaned against the doorway, his arms and ankles crossed. Something about this guy rubbed him the wrong way; he just couldn’t put his finger on it. “But when my neighbor says ‘no’ loud enough for me to hear from inside my apartment, it becomes my business.” He sent out a mental wave of foreboding and watched Angelo physically recoil. “It’s time to call it a night, Romeo.”

  It took Angelo a few beats to recover. When he did, he straightened his spine and squared his shoulders in an act of sheer defiance. “I do not have to do anything—” He lost his train of thought as the second wave hit him. Stunned, he shook his head, and his eyes flashed wide with fear. “Who are you?”

  David pushed off the doorframe and stalked across the hall, stopping when he was close enough to see the pulse thumping beneath Angelo’s temple. His inner Neanderthal wanted to toss the asshole down the stairs but common sense prevailed, convincing him to take a route that wouldn’t result in a visit from law enforcement. Besides, for all he knew Sarah might actually like the arrogant prick and get bent out of shape if he put the guy in a body cast.

  “I’m the thing that goes bump in the night,” David said, his words coming out in a low growl. To make his point, he shot out another wave, this one filled with some of the most disturbing images from the darkened recesses of his mind. “Leave. Now.”

  Twenty minutes later, David’s blood pressure was almost back to normal when he heard a light rapping at the door. Much to his surprise, it was Sarah.

  “Hi,” she said when he opened the door. She’d changed into a pair of red cotton shorts and a tank top that clung to her curves like Saran Wrap. He couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t wearing a bra. “I wanted to thank you,” she said, her speech still sounding more than a little sluggish. “For your help with Angelo.”

  “No big deal.” David shrugged, trying not to be a pervert and stare at her chest. He failed. “I just got a little concerned when I heard the commotion out in the hall.”

  She flashed him a crooked smile and he felt something tug at him, deep inside. “That was my boss. He can be a bit …”

  “Of an asshole?” David offered.

  Her smile widened, and he felt another tug. “I was gonna say difficult. But ‘asshole’ works just as well.”

  Damn, she was cuter than hell. He studied her for a few seconds, wondering why it had taken him so long to notice. “Why would you go out with a jerk like that?”

  “Not my choice.” She swayed a little and compensated for her lack of balance by holding on to the doorframe. “My tires were flat and he was the only one around to give me a ride home.” She blinked a few times, and then shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. “He insisted on dinner and I ended up drinking too much wine.”

  “How much did you have?” A gallon?

  She thought about it for a minute, her brows scrunched in concentration. “Two glasses, I think,” she finally said. “No, wait. A glass and a half—I didn’t finish the second one.”

  Now that didn’t make sense. The other night she drank more than two glasses without getting sloppy drunk.

  “Newbie, get over here,” David said with a quick glance back to Adam, who was still parked on the couch with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. The dog was stretched out beside him, lying on his back with his paws in the air.

  “Hey there, darling.” Adam waved to Sarah as he got off the couch and sauntered to the foyer. He gave her a wink and a smile before turning his attention to David. “What’s up, boss man?”

  “She says she drank a glass and a half of wine,” David said by way of explanation. “Does that sound right to you?”

  Adam’s smile slipped a few notches as he regarded Sarah with the eyes of a seasoned cop. He took his time, checking her pupils and reflexes. “How are you feeling tonight, Sarah?” he asked, his voice taking on a soothing yet authoritative tone.

  “A little fuzzy,” she replied, her smile dreamy and relaxed. She ran a hand down her neck, her fingers stopping just above the neckline of her tank top. “Other than that, I’m pretty good.”

  “What kind of wine did you drink?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Something red, maybe a merlot?”

  “How long ago?”

  “About an hour.”

  “Why don’t you sit down next to Buford?” Adam said as he guided her to the couch and sat her down beside the big mutt. “There’
s my girl.” He handed her the remote control before returning to David. He leaned close and kept his voice low. “I can’t say for sure, but it looks like she’s been drugged.”

  David clenched his fists so tight his fingernails dug into his palms. “Son of a bitch. Any idea what he gave her?”

  Brows creased, Adam shook his head. “I can’t be sure. There’s so much shit out there nowadays, it could be anything: Rohypnol, GHB, Ecstasy, take your pick.” He glanced back to the couch, where Sarah was flipping channels with the dog’s head in her lap. Her head was tilted a little to one side, and her eyelids were drooping. “She’s got something buzzing around in her system, but it’s more than just a couple glasses of wine.”

  David cursed under his breath, making a silent vow to twist off Angelo’s head the next time he laid eyes on him. “Will she be okay? Should we take her to the hospital?” Since there weren’t any appointments scheduled in the area, he figured her life wasn’t in danger. But he had no idea what the drugs would do to her system, and that had him a little worried.

  “She said she drank the wine over an hour ago. At this point, I don’t think you have to worry about her overdosing, but it wouldn’t hurt to take her down to the emergency room. They can run a toxicology to pin down what’s in her bloodstream.”

  David crossed the room and crouched down beside the couch. “Sarah, we’re taking you to the hospital.”

  “Huh? Hospital?” She looked at him like he was off his rocker. “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I feel fine.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’m fine.” She watched him with a skeptical eye, all the while scratching Buford’s belly. The dog stretched out beside her, and David suddenly felt jealous of the four-legged fleabag. “Is this some sort of payback for trying to make you go to the hospital last week? Cause it’s not gonna work.”

  “Shit,” David muttered under his breath. He blew out a heavy sigh as he stalked back to Adam. “She says she doesn’t want to go.”

  “If she doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t want to go. She’s a grown woman. You can’t force her.” Adam’s gaze cut back to Sarah. “She doesn’t seem to be suffering from any adverse side effects. With a good night’s rest, she should be all right. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep an eye on her for the next couple hours, though, just to be safe.”

  “Okay.” David felt an invisible weight lift off his chest. He turned his attention back toward the couch. “Sarah, where’s your car?”

  “In the parking garage at work.” Her brows crinkled, as if she’d suddenly remembered something important. “Oh shoot, I gotta call Jackie. I told Angelo that she was giving me a ride to work tomorrow.”

  “No you don’t.” David walked to the bar and scooped up his keys. “We’ll get your car fixed right now.”

  They made it to the Sears Automotive Center ten minutes before closing. After purchasing two new tires, they crossed town to Cava Tech and persuaded the night guard to let them in.

  “You guys are the best,” Sarah said for the third time. Or was it the fourth? At this point, David had lost count. It would have been annoying, if she didn’t look so damn sexy leaning against the hood of his Taurus, beaming at him like he was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

  “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?” Adam lowered the jack holding up the back end of Sarah’s Mazda. He handed the tire iron to David, who began loosening the lug nuts on the flat front tire. “You helped us out the other night. We’re just returning the favor.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to come out here in the middle of the night.”

  “It’s not the middle of the night,” David said. “It’s only nine thirty.”

  “Well, I still appreciate it.” She smiled, not looking quite so out of it as she had an hour before. “You two are so sweet. No wonder you make such a great couple.”

  “Excuse me?” David nearly dropped the tire iron on his foot. She couldn’t possibly think—

  “Oops!” Sarah’s eyes widened as if she’d just realized she spilled the beans on confidential information. “Is it supposed to be a secret? I’m sorry! Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” She traced an X across her chest with her index finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  David shot a confused look in Adam’s direction. “Is she saying what I think she’s saying?”

  A grin lit Adam’s face. “Yep. She thinks you’re my bitch.”

  “You think this is funny?” David’s face flushed with a combination of outrage and mortification. He’d been called a lot of things over the years, but never had his sexuality been called into question. Scowling, he locked the jack in place and then turned his attention to Sarah. “I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re not a couple.”

  “Pffft,” Sarah said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Don’t be silly. You don’t have to put up a front when I’m around. Seriously, I’m not uptight about that kind of stuff. Whatever makes you two happy is fine with me.”

  Adam let out a bark of laughter, and David shot him a look that said, “Eat shit and die.”

  Frustration mounting, David met Sarah’s gaze. “We. Are. Not. A couple.”

  “Really? But you two seem so close, living together in that little apartment—”

  “We’re straight,” David interrupted. Caught up in the need to prove his point, he bent down and kissed her.

  He’d meant to keep the kiss short and sweet, a modest peck on the lips to assert his heterosexuality. But once he got a taste of her he lost himself in the moment, taking the kiss deeper, hotter, turning it into an act of possession. He was about to pull back when she moaned against his mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked his lower lip, sending his brain on vacation while his libido took the driver’s seat and punched the gas.

  Lust ripped through him as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close so he could relish the heat of her body against his own. She felt soft, and warm, and vibrant in his arms, awakening desires he’d long abandoned. She let out another throaty moan as her fingers tunneled through his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

  This isn’t right, a tiny part of his brain screamed, and David snapped to his senses. She was still under the influence, which made him no better than Angelo if he allowed things to go any further.

  Breaking the kiss, he took in the sight of flushed skin and bruised lips. Her eyes looked a little glassy, but he couldn’t tell what caused it, the drugs or the kiss.

  Christ, he was no better than an animal. “I’m sorry,” David muttered, his body tight with awareness and aching for completion. He closed his eyes for a few seconds while he struggled to regain his composure.

  When he opened them again, he found Sarah staring up at him, eyes wide with shock and hot with intensity. He coughed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “Why don’t you go wait in the car?” he suggested, so ashamed he averted his gaze. “It should only be another couple minutes, and then we’ll get you home.”

  chapter 8

  Early the next morning Sarah woke in a haze, her mind a tapestry of disjointed dreams and memories. Her head throbbed while her mouth tasted like she’d been chewing on cardboard, and her bladder was pushing maximum capacity. She dragged herself out of bed and—after a quick trip to the bathroom—padded over to the bedroom window. Her bleary eyes squinted as she peered through the blinds to the parking lot below.

  She spotted her little red Mazda in the lot, parked in the row of spots across from the building. The sight of the Miata left her unnerved, since she had no idea how it got there. She had a clear recollection of finding her car in the Cava Tech parking garage with two flat tires, and then Angelo offering to drive her home—after dinner, of course—but the rest of the evening was a blur.

  What happened between dinner with Angelo and waking up in bed with a mind-numbing headache? How did her car get home? Who fixed her tires? When did she change from her work clothes to shorts and a tank top? And why was so much
of her memory a blank slate?

  It didn’t help that she’d had the most erotic dreams the night before. Fantasies of David kissing her with a hunger bordering on savagery, touching her exactly the way she enjoyed being touched, his heart beating wildly while his arousal pressed against her, putting her on notice that yes, he did prefer the fairer sex.

  Great, now she was having wet dreams about her gay next-door neighbor. It was official: her love life could not get any more pathetic.

  With unsteady feet she shuffled to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker, praying that a hot cup of Columbian roast would perk up her frazzled senses and kick-start her brain into gear. She poured a cup and almost groaned with relief when the taste of liquid caffeine washed over her taste buds.

  Armed with a tall mug of coffee, she shuffled back and forth across the living room carpet, struggling to recall events from the prior evening. Jumbled memories bubbled to the surface, and she tried to piece them together into one coherent picture. Angelo at the door to her apartment. David and Adam at the garage, changing her tires. David … kissing her?

  No, that couldn’t be right. Sarah rubbed her temples, wishing her synapses would hurry up and start firing on all cylinders. Why would David kiss her? He and Adam were a couple, right?

  A knock at the door went through her head like a sledgehammer. Groaning, she moved gingerly to the foyer and peered through the peephole.

  David.

  Crap. She really wanted to avoid seeing him until she knew which memories were real and which were the delusions of a woman who obviously lost the ability to hold her liquor. Not to mention she looked like a train wreck and felt even worse. Maybe he’d go away if she didn’t answer.

  “Sarah?” David called out right before he knocked a second time. He held a bag up to the peephole, emblazoned with the bright pink and orange Dunkin’ Donuts logo.

  Damn it. He had a determined look on his face, making it clear he had no intention of leaving until she faced the embarrassing music. With a heavy sigh, she flipped the bolt and opened the door.