by Karen Rose
‘Lucy,’ he murmured, ‘you have some splainin’ to do.’
‘Excuse me, sir?’ It was the valet, a college-aged kid.
JD pulled his badge from his pocket. ‘I need to self-park, kid.’
The valet rolled his eyes, seeing his tip go up in smoke. ‘Over there.’
JD parked, then dropped a ten on the podium. ‘I parked cars for a long time.’
‘How long?’ the valet asked in a polite way that said he couldn’t care less.
‘About an hour.’ JD grinned when the kid looked surprised. ‘I revved some guy’s Ferrari and got myself fired.’
The kid grinned back. ‘But it was worth it, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh yeah. Tell me, what goes on in there?’
The kid’s brows went up. ‘Dark scene. Heavy metal. No drugs,’ he added a little too forcefully. ‘I really meant that, even if it sounds like I’m sucking up.’
‘It did sound that way, actually. Who is the woman that just walked by?’
The kid got a lecherous look and it was all JD could do to keep from knocking it off his face. ‘That’s Lucinda,’ the kid said. ‘Emphasis on the “sin”. She plays E-V.’
‘E-V? Who’s that?’ he asked, knowing what the kid meant but playing dumb.
The kid gave him the pitying look that the young reserved for old people who were terminally uncool. ‘Electric violin, man. She doesn’t play every night, but when she does, the place goes wild. You have to see her. She’s really good.’
‘I fully intend to. Thanks, kid.’
Newport News, Virginia, Monday, May 3, 10.45 P.M.
Clay walked by the unmarked car that had followed him from Sherman’s precinct to the convenience store. Inside the store Clay bought a prepaid phone. The police had handled his cell phone while he’d been waiting. He could no longer trust its security.
‘You got a pay phone?’ he asked the clerk, who pointed to the back wall, bored.
Clay found the phone and dialed his office, relieved when Alyssa answered. ‘I’m glad you’re still there,’ he said. ‘I need you to go online and activate this prepaid for me.’ He read the instructions on the box.
‘It’s done,’ she said. ‘I’ve called the hospitals around Ocean City. Nobody’s been admitted matching Nicki’s description. Did . . . did you call the morgues?’
‘Not yet.’ He’d been a little busy. Now, he was terrified to hear the answer he might receive. There were two bodies in Sherman’s morgue. Evan was connected. He might even have killed them. And Nicki was missing.
Please, let her be drunk somewhere. Please. ‘I need you to run Nicki’s credit cards, business and personal. Find out where she’s been.’
He had to find Evan. When he did, he needed to find a way to turn him over to the cops without sacrificing all the good he and Nic had accomplished. They’d helped a lot of people in the past. They would again. But first he had to take care of Evan. I might have to . . .
Clay blew out a breath, not liking where his thoughts were taking him. He had never killed except when his own life or the lives of others were at stake. Think about all the lives you’ll never protect if the cops find out Nicki made Evan a fake ID.
Yeah, Clay thought bitterly. Right. He’d just be protecting himself from jail. But the thought of Evan’s new identity spurred an idea. ‘When did you run the Gamble card?’
‘This morning,’ Alyssa said. ‘It hadn’t been used.’
‘Run it again. Evan’s going to need money sometime. Call me if you find anything. I’m going to the Pussycat Lounge, where “Margo” worked. I want her real name.’
Monday, May 3, 11.05 P.M.
Whoa. JD had to get used to the darkness in the club, which was called Sheidalin. His eyes were drawn to the stage where a band played loud but strangely melodious music. It shouldn’t have been. It should have been crashing, dissonant, cacophonous.
But it wasn’t. And at center stage was Lucy, with an electric violin tucked under her chin. It was only a frame of an instrument, an ornate S with a neck and fingerboard.
The music swelled around them, fast and nearly frantic. She stood with her eyes closed, playing like a woman possessed. And maybe she was. But he didn’t care. She was beautiful and he couldn’t rip his eyes away.
‘She’s something, isn’t she?’
JD glanced up at Thorne, irritated at being made to look away from Lucy for even a few seconds. He looked back at the stage where the band was growing frenzied. Yet somehow she managed to stay apart from it all, almost as if she were in a bubble. Untouched. ‘Yes, she is. Why did she lie to me about this place? About her music?’
‘Did she? Did she specifically say she was not coming to a club tonight and playing with a band?’ Thorne asked and JD’s eyes rolled.
‘I forgot for a minute who you are.’ A defense attorney, for God’s sake.
‘The burden of proof, Detective,’ Thorne said, amused. ‘It’s on you.’
‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ he asked.
‘I assume because she didn’t want you to know. That you’re here will upset her.’
The threatening tone in Thorne’s voice made JD frown. ‘I’m not leaving.’
‘If she says you will, then you will. This is my place. I can remove you if I choose.’
JD looked up, his frown deepening. ‘Your place?’
‘Well, I’m a co-owner. Me and Gwyn. And Lucy.’
JD’s mouth fell open. ‘Lucy owns this place?’
‘About a third. We started it together, the three of us.’
‘When?’
‘We’ve been open for three years, but we started planning right after I met her.’
‘Five years ago, when she broke Bennett’s nose.’
‘Yes. Gwyn had just started working as my receptionist, and when Bennett filed charges, Lucy called me in. We hit it off, Lucy and I.’ Thorne just smiled when JD glared. ‘Not like that. We have an event common in our past.’
‘Which was?’ JD asked acidly.
‘We were both unjustly accused of murder.’
‘Lucy was acquitted, her record expunged.’
‘As was mine,’ Thorne said. ‘But there are always those who wonder and whisper. Was it really true? How did that person get off? A dark cloud follows you. Oh dear.’ His tone moved from harsh to softly sardonic. ‘She’s seen you. And she is not pleased.’
No, she was not. She still played, but her posture had changed, as had the music she created. No longer fluid, it was now angry. Compelling in a different way. Her eyes narrowed, latching onto JD. Her cheeks were red and she smoldered where she stood.
‘My God,’ JD breathed. ‘She’s like . . . fire.’
Thorne chuckled darkly. ‘See you don’t get your fingers burned. Or broken.’
Startled, JD looked up. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Absolutely not. But they will.’ He pointed to a few of the dancers crowded up against the stage, gyrating to the music. ‘They’ll know Lucy is angry and hurt. And they won’t like that.’ Thorne met his eyes and JD was surprised to see the tiniest bit of fear. ‘Fitzpatrick, nobody here knows who she is in the daytime. Don’t blow it for her.’
The fear was for Lucy, JD realized. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, nobody knows who she is in the daytime.’ Thorne enunciated each word. ‘It’s. A. Secret. This is her escape. Don’t ruin it. If you haven’t already by being here.’
‘But why? Why the secret?’
‘Ask her.’
With that Thorne walked away and JD turned back to Lucy, who had drawn the last note from the violin. She calmly placed it and the bow on a stand, came down the stairs at the edge of the stage and started towards him, fury in every long-legged step.
JD’s mouth watered. This was the hum of energy that he’d felt at the crime scene, then later every time she focused. Now he knew that hum was a pale shadow of what she really was. And he wondered why she hid such a light under a bushel.
He didn�
�t have much time to wonder. She’d crossed the small room and now stood before him, eyes flashing. The five-inch heels put her mouth only an inch below his own, her angry eyes nearly level with his. She literally took his breath away.
‘You followed me,’ she said quietly, but he heard.
‘Yes, I did,’ he said, unapologetic. His heart was pounding, his blood rushing. Every cell in his body was screaming for him to reach out and grab her. To take her. To have her. ‘I need to talk to you.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Fine, then we won’t talk.’ He took her elbow and started for the door, a little surprised when she went willingly. If she’d said no, he would have respected that. But at this moment . . . It was all he could do to keep from throwing her over his shoulder.
He walked her out the door, past the bouncer, grimly guiding her around the building, his arm around her waist. As grim as he, she kept up with him step for step. He turned the corner into the alley and finally alone, dug his fingers into her hair and ground his mouth into hers, desperately, taking what he wanted. What he needed.
With a growl that sent his pulse spiking, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and yanked herself higher, meeting his mouth with a desperation of her own. ‘Damn you,’ she muttered between kisses. ‘Why did you follow me here?’
For a full minute he didn’t answer, devouring her mouth. His palms slicked down the back of the amazing excuse for a dress, hesitating only for a moment when he encountered bare thighs before sliding up under the skirt. He groaned. Her butt was also bare, only a tiny strip of material disappearing into the cleft between her cheeks. His fingers flexed once in anticipation and then he filled his palms with smooth, soft skin. Her body jerked against him, her arms coming around his neck, one leg bending so that her thigh rubbed against his as she struggled to get closer.
His fingertips slid higher, encountering slick, wet, hot flesh and she moaned, deep in her throat. She was open to him. He could have her. Here. Now.
Now. Now. Now. The word banged in his mind as he pulled her closer, grinding his body against her, wishing they were anywhere but here. Here is good. Now is better. He nipped at her throat, grimacing when the spikes on her choker poked him.
‘Take it off. Take it off now.’
She let go of him to reach behind her neck then dropped the choker on the ground. Her hands slithered back up his chest, yanking at buttons until she could put her hands on him, flattening, rubbing all over his skin while her mouth ate at his. All while her wet heat teased and beckoned. He could smell her, wanted to taste her. Needed to have her. Mine. Mine. Mine.
He sank his teeth into the curve of her shoulder as he plunged two fingers up into her and she went rigid, arching back with a strangled cry of pleasure that fired his blood.
‘I want you,’ he growled into her ear. ‘Now.’
‘Yes.’ She gritted it, her head thrown back as he savaged her throat. ‘Now. Do it now.’ She opened her eyes and he was lost. ‘Do it.’
He backed her against the wall, yanking her higher against him, groaning when she lifted both legs, cinching them around his waist. Her thighs were bare, beautifully bare, all the way to her hips across which the strings of her thong stretched taut.
She held his gaze, hers molten. Her eyes narrowed, challenging. Mesmerizing. ‘Just do it,’ she mouthed.
His control snapped and so did the string of her thong when he ripped it. He freed himself and plunged hard and deep, groaning as she tightened around him. Good. So good. ‘Oh my God.’ He plunged again, harder, faster, unable to stop. ‘Lucy.’
Her nails dug into his shoulders and she thrust against him, unrestrained. Then she arched back with a strangled cry, her body going rigid as she came, hard. She was beautiful. Intensely, wildly beautiful.
Mine. It filled his mind as he plunged a final time, letting himself follow.
He rested his forehead against the wall, turning to press a kiss to her jaw. She was panting, her legs gone lax around him. Slowly he lowered her until her feet were on the ground. His body shuddered as he withdrew. She trembled, her knees locking as she leaned against the wall, keeping herself upright.
She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. ‘Oh my God,’ she said on a quiet exhale.
It didn’t sound positive.
JD braced his hands on either side of her head, pushing back so that he could stare down at her. ‘Don’t ask me to say I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘Please.’
‘I won’t. I need to go.’ She pushed at his chest and he stepped away. She tugged her dress back down over her hips and started walking.
‘Lucy, wait.’
She stopped, her back to him. ‘Why did you follow me?’
‘Why did you lie to me?’
‘I didn’t,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I never lied to you.’
‘You kept secrets.’
‘They’re mine to keep. Until I choose to share them, they are mine to keep.’ She was shivering again.
Quickly he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, then moved to stand in front of her, needing to see her face. ‘Tell me, Lucy, and I want the truth. When you said you wanted me, were you lying?’
She cocked her jaw, annoyance flaring in her eyes. ‘I did not lie to you.’
‘So you do want me. You wanted this.’
She was quiet a moment. ‘Yes. But you are not good for me, Detective.’
He was frustrated and confused. ‘I can’t accept that I’m not good for you. I won’t.’
‘You don’t understand.’
‘So explain it to me,’ he said urgently.
‘I can’t,’ she said, panic inching into her voice.
He cupped her face in his palm, traced her lips with his thumb. ‘I saw you,’ he murmured, ‘and I knew.’
‘What?’ she said wearily. ‘What did you know? What could you possibly know?’
‘That . . .’ You belong to me, he thought, but didn’t dare say the words aloud. ‘That I felt something. An energy, an attraction. A craving. This morning, and again in there just now.’ And inside you. It had never been like that before. But he didn’t think she’d believe him. ‘Your music. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because this . . . This is the one place I come to be . . . me.’ She hesitated, then shrugged. ‘To be bad.’
His body instantly went hard and he had to take a deep breath to keep from grabbing her again. ‘But?’
‘I can’t have this 24/7. I let myself be me here only. My daily life has to be stable.’
‘Boring?’
She looked relieved. ‘Yes. I hope you’ll just accept that.’
‘All right, but why am I not good for you?’
The relief disappeared, giving way to pain. ‘Because you’re not boring.’
‘You mean the helmet? I don’t race anymore, Lucy. I don’t take risks.’
‘Of course you do. You’re a cop. Your life is one big risk. But this isn’t about you,’ she added with quiet desperation.
He frowned down at her. ‘You? You’re worried about you?’
‘I said I was a lot of trouble. You should have listened to me.’ She handed him his coat. ‘I have to redo my makeup. I left it in Thorne’s car.’
She walked out of the alley and toward the line of cars in front of the club. For a few seconds he watched her, too numb to react, then his brain kicked in. He scooped up her choker and the remnants of her panties, shoving them in his pocket as he took off at a jog to catch up to her. ‘Lucy, wait. Stop.’
She stopped, but didn’t turn around. ‘Make it about the case, JD.’
Okay. Just keep her talking. ‘Bennett and Edwards had their bank accounts drained after their deaths. They are connected and Mr Bennett somehow knew that.’
Slowly she looked over her shoulder. ‘But what does that have to do with me?’
‘Other than that they knew your brother, I don’t know. Yet.’ He fell into step beside her when she began walk
ing. ‘But it does. So you need to go somewhere safe until . . .’
She walked to Thorne’s Mercedes, then stopped abruptly. ‘No,’ she whispered.
He followed her between the parked cars. ‘Lucy, don’t be stubborn.’
‘Oh God.’ She looked up at him and he could see horror in her eyes. ‘Look.’
He bent around her so that his line of sight was identical to hers. And his gut turned inside out. There was someone in the car. Sitting in the passenger seat.
It was a woman, slumped against the window which was streaked with blood. The woman was dead, her face slashed but still recognizable. Her head had been beaten until it was bloody. JD swallowed hard. Her eyes were gone. Something white was in her mouth, just like Bennett that morning.
‘Number two,’ Lucy whispered, pale and stunned.
He thought of Malcolm Edwards, lost at sea. ‘No. She’s number three.’
Monday, May 3, 11.25 P.M.
‘Damn,’ Stevie muttered. JD had called her with the news. ‘Does Lucy know her?’
He stood next to Thorne’s Mercedes, while Lucy studied the victim through the window. ‘She doesn’t think so, but it’s hard to see. There’s a lot of blood smeared on the window. The victim appears to be about sixty. Her head is shaved.’
‘Just like Bennett,’ Stevie said. ‘Who else knows you’ve found her?’
‘I called for backup, CSU and the ME. Then I called you. There’s a valet around here somewhere, but I don’t see him. Everyone else is in the club.’
‘Where Lucy plays an electric violin wearing leather,’ she said in wry disbelief.
‘Yes,’ he said. Lucy was staring at the victim with a combination of horror and clinical focus. He trapped his phone between his shoulder and ear and put his coat over her shoulders again. She shot him a grateful look and pulled the coat around her.
‘Hey, my reaction is mild compared to what some will say. Especially Hyatt, who’s been suspicious of the doc all day. And who, I should add, you have not yet called.’
