by Rita Herron
“No. He hit face forward on the steering wheel.” Dex pulled her to him, his voice a husky whisper. “I think he was murdered.”
The agony in his voice tore at her heart, and she couldn’t help herself. She loved him so much.
She pulled him into her arms and held him, soothing him as his body shook with emotions he didn’t want her to see. A second later, he murmured her name, then closed his mouth over hers.
Chapter Twenty
Melissa deepened the kiss, tugging Dex so close she felt his hard chest against her breasts. He wrapped his arms around her and teased her lips apart with his tongue, his hands skating down to her hips. He drew her into the V of his thighs, and his hard length brushed her belly through his jeans.
Need rose inside her, memories of the times they’d been together in the past returning to taunt her. She knew his touch, his kiss, the way he felt inside her.
She wanted that feeling again.
He stroked her back, then brushed her hair aside with one hand and planted soft tender kisses along her throat. Erotic sensations splintered through her. Today had been tense, sad, painful.
She wanted Dex to erase that pain. And she wanted to ease his suffering.
He lifted his head suddenly, as if sensing her turmoil. His eyes searched hers. Anguish streaked his face. He’d just learned his father was murdered.
That was eating at him, resurrecting his grief and anger, which would drive him until he found his father’s killer.
She tunneled her fingers through his hair, raking a strand from his forehead. “I know you’re hurting, Dex. I’m sorry about your father.”
Regret flashed in his eyes. “And I’m sorry about Gunther.”
Fresh tears blurred her eyes. She didn’t know if she was crying for Gunther, or Dex, or because she was so in love with this strong man that she could barely breathe.
Intense emotions overcame her, and she kissed him again.
“Melissa,” he murmured as she trailed her fingers down to unbutton his shirt.
“I need you, Dex,” she whispered.
A low moan erupted from his throat, and he swung her up into his arms, and carried her to his bedroom. The masculine furnishings were so like Dex that she immediately felt safe and warm. He shoved the quilt back and eased her onto his bed.
Hunger darkened his eyes, and he parted his lips, his breath ragged. “I need you, too, Melissa.”
She licked her lips and reached for him and he came into her arms. They tore at each other’s clothes, hungry for each other’s touch, inhibitions floating away as the blissful memory of making love to Dex washed over her.
Dex tossed his jeans to the floor, and looked down at her with the kind of passion that made her body tingle all over. She was naked and aching for him, and she ran her finger over his broad chest, telling him with her eyes how much she wanted him.
A wicked smile curved his mouth, and he crawled above her and angled his head for another kiss. Deep, hungry, it seared her to her soul.
She threaded her fingers into his hair, kissing him back with all the love in her heart. The kiss seemed to last forever but not long enough. It would never be enough.
Need built as he planted kisses down her throat again, then he tugged one bare nipple into his mouth and suckled her. A shiver rippled through her, and he teased the other nipple with his fingers until she clawed at his back.
She wrapped her leg around his, stroking his calf with one foot as he moved above her. His thick length teased her thigh. Heat flared in every cell in her body.
He was relentless in tormenting her and trailed hungry kisses from her breasts to her belly.
She wanted him inside her.
But he shoved her legs apart with a groan, then dove his tongue inside her heat. He licked and sucked at her secret places until the tendrils of an orgasm began to rock through her.
“Dex,” she moaned.
He rose above her, yanked on a condom, then thrust inside her. Melissa wrapped her legs around his hips, clawing at his back as he drove himself deep inside her. One thrust, two; he built a rhythm as their bodies joined together.
* * *
DEX WANTED TO prolong the pleasure, but making love to Melissa ignited every need in his body. Desire and passion swamped him as she lifted her hips and allowed him to move deeper inside her.
Her whispered moans of pleasure and kisses reminded him of how precious her touch could be. She was lightness to his darkness, a sweet balm to his aching soul.
She raked her hands down his bare back, clinging to him as he pumped inside her, and arousing him to the point of no return. Erotic sensations exploded through his body, and he murmured her name as his release claimed him.
She joined him, riding the waves of pleasure again, and crying out as another orgasm rocked through her.
His heart raced, his body shuddering against hers. He cradled her in his arms and rolled them to his side, holding her close and kissing her hair as the pleasure slowly subsided. A quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and he crawled back in bed with her.
His desire hadn’t subsided at all, though. Instead it possessed him with an intensity he’d never experienced.
He wanted her again. And again. And again.
Tonight, tomorrow...maybe always...
The thought sent a bolt of fear through him. He’d never felt this way about a woman. Had always loved ’em and walked away.
No...he’d never really loved them. He’d had sex; no love was involved.
Melissa snuggled next to him with her head on his chest, and emotions filled him. Tonight, with her, was not just sex.
The thought of anyone hurting her twisted him inside out.
She whispered his name on a breathy sigh, and he hugged her closer, then kissed her deeply. Melissa looped her arms around his neck and climbed on top of him. Hunger stirred in him as her hair brushed his chest. She tortured him with more kisses, then slid down his body, trailing love licks down his chest to his belly.
His stomach clenched, his sex hardening again.
He reached for her arms to roll her over, but she used one hand to stroke him while she ran her tongue down to the tip of his sex. Raw hunger heated his blood.
He moaned her name, and she closed her lips around the tip of him, then tormented him with her fingers and her tongue until another orgasm built.
He’d forgotten how insatiable Melissa had been. But he didn’t intend to leave her behind. He pulled her above him, settling her hips on top of him and gripping them to guide her on his thick erection. Her warm wet center drew him in, and he groaned, hunger begging him to take her hard and fast. She matched passion at every level, the soft mounds of her breasts screaming for him to touch them.
He cupped them in his hands, massaging her weight, then teased her turgid nipples with his fingers and tongue until she moaned with pleasure. She lifted her hips, pulling away from him, then lowered herself again, impaling herself on him. Over and over.
Her body hugged his throbbing sex, milking him as she rode him up and down. Passion built again, and he clutched her hips, then thrust deeper and deeper until she called his name in a rush of blinding pleasure that sent them both over the edge. She clung to him while the sensations ebbed and flowed, their breathing erratic but slowly settling into a steady rhythm that filled him with a kind of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.
When they’d made love years ago, the passion had been intense, but he’d been too afraid to allow emotions into the mix. Too focused on the pain of his past and what he was going to do with his life.
Melissa had a way of soothing that pain. She made him want to think about a future.
A future that involved more than work and solving cases and running from someone who might care for him.
She made him want to take a chance on love. On them.
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His throat clogged with emotions, robbing him of his words. He couldn’t make any declarations or promises to her until his life was in order. Until he knew who killed his father and who’d been preying on the homeless men.
It was the only way to keep Melissa safe. And keeping her safe meant more to him than anything.
* * *
CONTENT IN DEX’S ARMS, Melissa slept like she hadn’t slept in ages. She was safe and cared for, and in a place that felt like home.
Sweet images of living with Dex filled her dreams, images of a beautiful wedding on the lawn of the ranch. She wore a long white antique gown, and Dex looked handsome in his duster jacket and cowboy hat. April stood beside her as maid of honor, and Dex’s family watched as he held her hand and declared his vows. A tender kiss, then a party to celebrate with his family, then he swept her into his arms and took her home. They made love long into the night, and every night after that, their love growing stronger each day.
Thanksgiving came, and Dex helped her serve meals at the shelter, then Christmas with presents for everyone in need. Then holiday dinners with the Hawks, and a little dark-haired boy with big eyes who followed Dex around like a doting puppy.
She finally belonged somewhere. Was putting down roots. Had stowed her suitcase in the closet to stay. She added some feminine touches to the house, and decorated their son’s room. A map on the wall showed the places she’d moved to, while another map of the ranch hung beside it, a reminder that she was finished running.
She’d hand-painted a Home Sweet Home sign that hung over the sofa and planted flowers in the bed in front of the cabin.
Then she was pregnant again, this time with a little girl. Dex was holding her and rubbing her belly, whispering how much he loved her and their family.
Nothing could ever tear them apart.
A loud knocking jerked her from her sleep. Confused and irritated to have her perfect life interrupted, she closed her eyes and ignored it. It was probably down the street.
But reality intruded. No, she wasn’t at her bungalow. She was at Dex’s. In his arms.
He rolled over with a groan, irritated, too. He dropped a kiss on her cheek, then slid from bed. “I’d better see who that is.”
Morning sunlight streamed through the window, a reminder that her blissful night was over. Gunther was dead. Dex’s father had been murdered.
And her dream had been just that—a dream.
* * *
DEX STUMBLED FROM BED, still groggy from sleep and hating to leave Melissa. She’d felt so damn good next to him and in his arms that he wanted to stay there forever.
The knocking that woke him grew louder. He yanked on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and padded barefoot to the front door.
“Dex, it’s me, Lamar.”
Maybe he had news. He opened the door, anxious to hear what his friend had to say.
“You’re here early. It’s must be important,” Dex said.
Lamar’s stern expression confirmed that it was. He stepped into the cabin, his shoulders squared.
“You want coffee?” Dex asked.
Lamar narrowed his eyes at Dex, taking in his state of dress. “Sure. And you’re definitely going to want some.”
Dex stepped over to the kitchen and started a pot to brew. Behind him, he felt Melissa’s presence and glanced sideways to see her standing in the doorway. Her hair looked rumpled, but she’d dressed. “Something wrong?”
A vein bulged in Lamar’s forehead. Not a good sign. “I have to talk to you about your father’s death, Dex. Maybe we should do it in private.”
Dex shook his head. “You can say whatever you have to say in front of Melissa.”
A flash of irritation in Lamar’s eyes indicated he didn’t approve, but he shrugged and laid a folder on the table.
He waited until Dex poured mugs of coffee for everyone and Dex and Melissa gathered at the table.
Dex’s stomach clenched. “So what is it?”
“You’re right, Dex. Your father was murdered.”
Dex steeled himself against a reaction. “What changed your mind?”
“I have proof,” Lamar said.
“What kind of proof?”
Lamar opened the folder, then laid a medical report on the table. “The DNA from that bloody rag matched Smith’s.”
Melissa gasped. “That can’t be true.”
“Forensics doesn’t lie,” Lamar said bluntly. “And neither do these.” He removed several photographs and spread them across the table. “I had our tech pull pics from security cameras around the city and she found these.”
Lamar gestured to a set of pictures showing Smith at the vet’s, then near the stall where the man was gored by the bull. Another pic showed Smith standing over Gunther with a gun.
Melissa shook her head in denial and rubbed her hand over her eyes.
Two more photographs showed Smith with Harry Willis. Then there was a picture of Harry’s dead body.
“His body was found last night in a wooded section not far from the vet’s farm. Just like your friend Gunther, Ms. Gentry, he was shot.”
Pain wrenched Melissa’s face.
Then Lamar produced another set of photos. Photos of Smith with Dex’s father.
In the first one, Smith and his father were in an alley. The next one showed the two of them hunched over a fire built in a garbage can. Then one of Smith by the pickup truck his father had crashed.
Smith was holding a liquor bottle in his hand, exactly like the one that had been on the seat beside his father’s dead body.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dex’s mind raced as he struggled to assimilate what he was seeing with Smith’s story. Had it all been lies? Was his amnesia an act?
“I still don’t believe it,” Melissa said. “Jim doesn’t seem like a cold-blooded killer. He kept to himself, but he made friends with the other men at the shelter.”
Dex couldn’t contain his fury. Smith had killed his father; that was cold-blooded to him. “Stop defending him, Melissa.”
“He made friends with them so he could use them,” Lamar said curtly.
“What are you talking about?” Melissa asked.
“I have a theory,” Lamar said. “Smith paid the men a small amount of money to buy cattle at auction at a low price. That way the deals couldn’t be traced back to him. Then he had Dr. Huckleberry fake papers showing that they were stud quality, and turned around and sold them for major bucks.”
“And he killed the homeless men so they couldn’t reveal their connection to him or what he was doing,” Dex interjected.
“Exactly.”
“If he made all this money as you suggest,” Melissa said, “then why was he staying at the shelter?”
“To hide out,” Lamar said.
“But Jim claims he was injured, that he lost his memory,” Melissa argued.
“A story he concocted to cover his tracks,” Lamar said.
“You think Baxter was in on it?” Dex asked.
Lamar began stacking the pictures back inside the folder. “There’s no proof that he was. I think it was all Smith’s scheme.”
Dex rubbed his forehead. “So who took these pictures, and why didn’t he or she stop the murders?”
“They were sent in anonymously,” Lamar said. “My people are trying to track down the source.”
“I want to show the photographs to Lucas. Maybe he can help us find out if Baxter was involved or who took them.”
Lamar nodded, then addressed Melissa. “Do you know how to contact Smith?”
Melissa folded her arms around her waist. “No. He doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“That you know of,” Lamar said. “He probably uses burner phones so they can’t be traced.”
Melissa shrugged. “I never saw him use one.”
> “You saw what he wanted you to see, Miss Gentry.” This time Lamar’s tone sounded sympathetic. “I’m sorry. But these types of people prey on innocent and trusting souls like you.”
Dex clamped his teeth together. Lamar was right.
Melissa glanced at Dex. “You can drop me at the shelter. If he comes there, I’ll call you.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Lamar said. “We could stake out the place and catch him when he shows up.”
“No.” A mixture of anger and fear hardened Dex’s tone. “It’s too dangerous.”
Sympathy blended with Lamar’s brusque, businesslike tone. “If you want to catch the man who murdered your father, this is our best chance, Dex.”
“Trust me, Dex. He won’t hurt me,” Melissa said.
“It has nothing to do with trust,” Dex said bluntly. “He’s a killer, Melissa. There’s no way we’re using you as a pawn. If he knows we’re onto his scheme, then he might turn on you.”
* * *
DEX’S STEELY LOOK warned Melissa there was no use in arguing with him. She understood his concerns. And the detective had made a good case against Jim Smith.
But her instincts whispered that they were wrong.
Maybe she was a fool. A sucker. But something about Jim had gotten under her skin. The way he’d protected her when McTruitt had put that gun to her said he wouldn’t kill innocent, vulnerable men for money.
It hurt that Dex didn’t trust her. Although his emotions had to be in a tangle because this investigation was personal. How could she blame him?
He’d learned that the father he’d wanted to reconcile with for nearly twenty years had been murdered. And Lamar presented evidence that Smith had killed him.
“Stay here and get some rest,” Dex told her. “Lamar and I are going to see Lucas. Maybe we can figure out a plan to catch Smith.” Her earlier offer hung in the air between them. He didn’t intend to change his mind.
“I need to go home,” Melissa said.
“I’ll take you after we finish at Lucas’s.”
