Lie in the Moment

by Nicole Camden

  “He’s outside with Analyn. She said they have a greenhouse with a grassy section for him to use so he doesn’t get cold.”

  Damn dog would think he died and went to heaven. Maura wasn’t sure that she hadn’t died and gone to heaven.

  The long wooden table had a deceptively rustic, farmhouse quality, but it was laid with fine china vases filled with fresh flowers—in winter. Who had enormous bouquets of roses in the middle of winter? Platters of food were laid out and waiting to be eaten. Maura saw that her father had already piled his plate with roast chicken, rolls, and salad. Justin was sitting in front of a laptop, his Beats firmly over his ears.

  Maddie had a roll in one hand and a Coke in the other as she wandered around the room looking at the pictures. “Wicked amazing. You should definitely date him, Maura.”

  “Enough, Maddie,” Maura said as Roland strode into the room. He’d shed his overcoat and jacket, but he was still wearing his suit pants and shirt.

  “Everything okay? Is there anything you need?” he asked, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. His dark hair was mussed, his shirt open at the collar. He had dark circles under his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from sending her a look that scorched her very soul.

  “We’re good,” Maura answered for all of them. She snagged Maddie’s arm as the girl walked by, taking the ferret away. “Maddie, why don’t you show us those pictures of you while we eat.” Roland had collected Maddie’s cell phone as soon as they’d picked her up from school and put it in some kind of box.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  Grunting, her father leaned forward and snagged more food from the spread in the center of table. “Damn Internet. Things weren’t bad enough. Now kids are putting their whole lives out there. Why not hand the burglar the keys to your house and say, ‘Have at it, asshole.’ ” Her father gestured with a chicken leg, his shrewd gaze focused on Roland.

  Roland nodded in agreement. “It’s remarkably easy. That’s why I took your phone,” he explained, taking a seat at the long table across from Maura’s father. Maura tugged Maddie over next to him and pressed her into the seat. “I couldn’t destroy it,” he said, turning to look at her. “We need it to see what we can find. But I didn’t want anyone to be able to spy on us or track your location.”

  Maddie didn’t want to meet his gaze, but Maura thought that was just because he was intimidating, with his tall, broad shoulders, piercing blue gaze, and serious tone. “Why would anyone want to track me?” she muttered, letting her hair fall like a curtain between them.

  Roland met Maura’s questioning look. To tell her or not to tell her? Torn, Maura looked at her father. He, at least, would have an opinion. Right or wrong, her father always had an opinion.

  Her dad shrugged and said, “It’s the man that killed your mom and dad, Maddie girl. Seems he’s interested in hurting all of us, or at least your aunt.”

  Maura quickly took a seat next to Maddie and took her hand. “But I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’re going to catch him.”

  Maddie face had gone white, her eyes huge. “The man that killed my parents was taking pictures of me?”

  Biting her lip, unconsciously petting Hannibal in her agitation, Maura nodded. “Yeah, sugar. We think so. That’s why we’re here. You’ll be safer here while we search for him.”

  Gert came in the room carrying a laptop and a tray covered in cupcakes. “I thought that dessert might be in order.”

  He set the silver tray in the center of the table and handed the laptop to Roland. “Here you are, sir.”

  “Thank you, Gert,” Roland replied.

  Maddie had already snatched a cupcake from the tray and was peeling away the wrapper. At least she isn’t too upset to turn down cupcakes, Maura thought absently. Justin, who’d been immersed in whatever he was studying on screen, sensed the presence of sugar and grabbed two cupcakes before diving back into his computer. Maura wanted some real food before she started eating all that sugar, but they did look delicious. Homemade yellow cupcakes with a swirl of chocolate frosting.

  “I’ll bring some wine. Will there be anything else?” Gert asked, his bald head gleaming in the firelight.

  “No, we’re good, Gert,” Roland said absently, already typing away on the laptop in front of him. “Maddie, are these the pictures you’re referring to?”

  He turned the screen to face the girl, who had chocolate around her mouth. She nodded, her mouth full. “Thr r or,” she mumbled.

  “There are more,” he interpreted, nodding, and slid the laptop in front of her.

  Wincing at the chocolate that covered her niece’s fingers, Maura handed her a napkin before she could touch the keyboard.

  Maddie showed them all the sites where there’d been pictures posted of her. Roland emailed everything over to Nick and Milton, who were searching for information on who had posted the photos as well as analyzing the photographs themselves.

  Once Maddie thought she’d pointed out everything, Maura started asking questions. “Has anyone threatened you?”

  “No.”

  “What about strange men around your school or at ice-skating? Have you noticed anyone?”

  “No.”

  “What about boys?”

  Maddie ducked her head again, peeking at Justin to see if he was listening, and Maura knew that she was hiding something. “Maddie—you better tell me.”

  The girl lifted one shoulder in a shrug, her lips pouting. “I met a boy a couple weeks ago. He’s nice. Sometimes he comes to my ice-skating practice.”

  Beneath her hands, Hannibal squeaked. Maura loosened her grip immediately, petting him in apology. Had Keenan recruited yet another kid to try and harm Maddie?

  “The blond kid I told you to stay away from? That Garrett?” Her father was scowling at Maddie. “No good. I can tell by looking.” Now he was staring pointedly at Roland.

  “Garrett?” Roland repeated. He took the laptop away and tapped several keys. When he turned the screen back to Maddie and Maura, the photographs they’d found of Garrett Morris, the kid they suspected had planted the bomb in his car, were displayed. “Is this him?”

  Maddie studied the photo, her small face uncertain. “Yeah. I mean, he’s way cuter in person, but that looks like him.”

  “All right,” Roland said slowly. “Maura, can you—”

  Maura had already stood and handed Hannibal to her father. She took out the phone Roland had given her and called Bert. If Garrett had been following Maddie around, they needed to get a handle on his movements, figure out if anyone else was in danger, and see if they could catch him. He could have killed Maddie. Based on those pictures, he could have killed her a dozen times over. So what was the end game? Why take photos of her? Was it just to keep Maura uncertain and guessing, or was there a bigger plan?

  She filled Bert in on the situation while Roland continued to ask Maddie questions. She wasn’t totally listening, but she thought he was asking about her ice-skating. He was distracting her. Maura could have kissed him for that alone.

  As soon as she was off the phone, she went to her niece and hugged her from behind, kissing the top of the girl’s head.

  “You okay, honey?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.” Maddie’s voice was uncertain, her hands coming up to grip Maura’s wrists. “We’re safe here, right?”

  Maura sighed.

  “You’ll be fine, girl,” her father said gruffly from across the table. In his lap, Hannibal contentedly ate something he’d stolen off her father’s plate. “Chandler here probably knows better than anyone how criminals think. He’ll keep you safe enough.”

  Maura recognized the backhanded compliment for what it was, but Roland seemed to take her father’s comments in stride. He’d set the laptop aside and focused his attention on Maddie.

  Standing, he held out a hand to the girl. “I have something I think you’d like to see. Would you come with me?”

  Maddie glanced at Maur
a, who shrugged. With Roland, it could be anything.

  “Yeah, okay,” the girl said warily, taking his hand. Curious, Maura followed them, aware that her father was behind her in his wheelchair. Justin stayed at the table with his computer.

  Roland led them out of the dining room and down a long corridor that branched out in several directions. They passed by a room with an Olympic-size pool and a glass ceiling that showed the night sky. Maura had a flash of swimming in that pool with Roland, naked bodies entwined, and she sucked in a breath.

  They came to a set of double doors, which Roland opened with a switch on the wall. “Go ahead.” He gestured them inside. “Take a look.”

  Maura felt the cold first, a shock after the warmth of the house, and then she was looking at a full skating rink.

  “Oh my God. This is so cool,” Maddie squealed, and started running down a ramp toward some benches near the ice. “Your own private ice-skating rink? OMG. I have to text my friend Sarah. She’ll go crazy.”

  “No texting,” Maura said automatically, but she was equally astonished.

  “Where are my bags? I brought my skates. Please, Maura?”

  Maura looked back at Roland, who was still standing at the doors with her father. “Is it okay?”

  “Of course,” he said smoothly. “I just sent Gert a message asking him to bring her bag down here.”

  What are you up to? “Why do you have an ice-skating rink in your house? Do you skate?”

  “Only on occasion.”

  He was probably a damn ice-skating champion if his bowling prowess was any indicator. “Then why?”

  He looked amused, his gaze steady on her face, his eyes hot, and gave her the reason he’d given her before when she’d asked about his weekend homes. “Because I can.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Roland dove into the pool with the expertise of a longtime swimmer, staying underneath the water until he was midway down the lane before coming up to take a breath. When he did rise, he slashed through the water with punishing strength, maintaining a brutal pace that would wear him out quickly.

  Not only had Milton and Nick come up empty on gaining information from the photographs that had been taken of Maddie, but there was also no sign of Keenan’s partner Angela, the kid Garrett, or the missing chemicals. Roland had sent an email to Hoover, his PI. He’d asked the man to check out all the old haunts, where he, Keenan, and Blake had grown up—not knowing what else to do. He wasn’t used to being at a loss, but he didn’t know where Keenan would strike next, which person he cared about would bear the brunt of Keenan’s anger.

  He’d decided to go for a swim, and was walking down the hallway in his suit and terry robe when his phone had dinged.

  You can’t protect them forever.

  Roland had known it was from Keenan. He’d backtracked the number out of habit, but, once again, it was a burner phone, and apparently the call had come from a coffee shop in Denmark.

  Roland swam lap after lap, putting Keenan further and further from his head with every stroke. As his father had always said, sometimes it was better to come at a mark from an angle they weren’t expecting; sometimes you had to convince yourself that you weren’t playing a game.

  Maura had been on the phone with her partner for a good part of the night, discussing progress on forensics from the theft of the chemicals. The whole time she worked, her eyes strayed to her niece, as if she were checking to make sure that the girl was alive and well and in front of her.

  She’d tucked Maddie and the animals into bed in the guest suite Gert had prepared for them, and then checked on her father—who had stopped constantly glaring at Roland. His cop eyes had been watching and listening during both Maura’s and Roland’s conversations. The old man was hiding something. Roland was sure of it.

  A flash of red out of the corner of his eye made him pause in the center of the pool. He could hear the motion of someone entering the water. He’d let his mind wander, but was unsurprised when a certain redhead snuck her way into the pool. Maura. Jerking his head up, he planted his feet on the bottom and stood, ripping the goggles off his eyes.

  Think of the devil. There she was, dressed in a red bikini that she’d probably gotten from the guest room. It fit her perfectly, showing off petite breasts with their sprinkling of freckles, the taut muscles of her stomach, and the long lean muscles of her thighs. Her hair fell loose and straight around her shoulders. He thought about how she’d looked bent over the conference table in his office, her hair gleaming in the moonlight, and suddenly his suit was even tighter than before.

  She swam toward him, her hair slowly growing darker as it absorbed the water, her gray eyes serious and fixed on his face.

  When she was within a few feet of him, she began to tread water. He waited, wondering what she was thinking about as she ran her eyes over his body.

  “No one has a body like yours, you know,” she said in a low voice. Other than the lapping of the water against the sides of the pool, they were surrounded by a thick hush, a waiting silence of wanting, and worry, and the need to forget.

  “I can’t sleep sometimes,” he admitted, “so I work out.”

  She nodded, but she didn’t really seem to be listening. “I don’t want to think about him for a while. I don’t want to worry,” she continued, moving closer, until he could feel the water from the motion of her limbs. “I locked the door.”

  Water glistened in the hollow between her neck and shoulder blades. He caught her hands and pulled her toward him, sliding his grip up to her elbows. Bending his head, he placed his lips on the taut muscle, tasting the chlorine but also the velvet of her skin. He let his mouth linger, softly, slowly, before biting down, just enough to massage the knot that had gathered there. She sighed and turned her head to the side, giving him full access to the lightly freckled column of her neck.

  Pulling her closer, he ran his tongue up and down the smooth, wet surface of her skin, enjoying the way she shivered and moaned.

  “God,” she gasped, lifting her head. “You’re like an addiction. How do you know how to touch me like that?” She wrapped her legs around his waist and looped her arms around his neck.

  He let himself sink deeper into the water, until they were weightless, free to touch and explore without the boundaries of gravity, their sense of touch magnified by the friction of the water, the cool glide of it where flesh met flesh.

  Off came her bikini top with a deft tug of his thief’s fingers. It floated away from them, forgotten. She moaned, and it echoed in the quiet, cavernous room. Thumbing her breasts, he kissed between them, pressing his lips into her breastbone.

  “I don’t want to believe you were ever like him,” she said, sliding her hands into his hair. “How could you have ever been like him, when you’re . . . ” She trailed off, seeming at a loss for words.

  He started to pull away, but she didn’t let him, gripping him by the sides of his head and dragging his mouth to hers. Their mouths met, hot tongues tangling together as they tried to sink inside each other’s skin.

  She was so good. So clean and beautiful and bright. With renewed urgency, he jerked the ties to her bikini bottom, his usual dexterity forgotten in his rush to slide inside her, to make her his.

  When she was naked, he removed his swimsuit and let it float away as well, standing up with his forearms beneath her taut, naked buttocks. He walked with her, making sure that his lower body rubbed against the knot of nerves at her core as he made his way to the steps in the shallow end of the pool.

  “I want to fuck here,” she protested, and sucked hard at his neck. “I want you to take me while we’re floating. Weightless.”

  Roland wanted to do it. He wanted to grip her hips and plow into her until they either came or drowned, but he knew it was a mistake.

  “We can’t, Maura.” He squeezed her buttocks deeply, sinking his fingers deep into her flesh and jiggling a little, letting that tight ass ride in his hands. “I don’t have a condom and the water—it won’t be com
fortable.”

  “Fuck that,” she snarled, pinching his nipple. “I’m on the pill and water makes me horny. I like the feel of it, all slick and frictiony.” She slid her teeth over her bottom lip and made a popping noise, her eyes heavy-lidded and suggestive. Damn. He was doomed.

  Sliding his hand between them, he touched her clitoris, rubbing it gently between his fingers, or as gently as he could in the water. There was no way this felt good, but she was moaning, her body arched back over his arm, her toes digging into his calves.

  “You feel every inch this way, don’t you?” he murmured, sliding two fingers inside her. Slowly, ever so slowly so he didn’t hurt her, he worked them in her tight, hot sheath. Her heat burned him even beneath the water, and her eyes, dilated with pleasure, told him that she enjoyed the slightly rough tug as he slid them in and out.

  “Every single inch. I want yours. I want to feel you hard and hot between my legs.”

  Oddly enough, he felt like laughing. Nothing had ever felt so good as Maura O’Halloran in his arms, begging him to take her. “Quite a mouth for such a good girl,” he murmured, spreading her apart with his fingers and positioning the head of his cock at her entrance.

  She yanked on his hair and dug her toes even deeper into the muscles of his legs. “I’m not a good girl.”

  He slid inside an inch. “That’s good.” He dropped a frantic kiss on her jaw, her biceps, her pink lips. “God, you’re tight. Sweetheart, this might—”

  “Deeper,” she demanded, using her legs to draw his hips toward her. “Now.”

  He obeyed, working his way inside her with small nudges, fighting to get inside without hurting her, but God she was squeezing him, her sweet pussy closing over him even as the water closed over their heads.

  He stood upright, holding on to her with one arm while he wiped the water from his face. His dick slid all the way inside her with the motion, and she shuddered against him, ignoring the dunking as she absorbed the feel of him deep inside her.

  Roland tried to focus on keeping his feet planted even as he slid her slowly off his dick, but she fought him, both with her legs and with the muscles that milked him as he pulled back. “Again,” she demanded. “Back inside.”