Dying Embers

by B. E. Sanderson

  “What?” he snapped.

  “I… I…” For thirteen years, Will had been the only man she touched. Everything was so new. She wasn’t sure if she even knew how to make love to another man.

  “Hey, baby,” he said, tightening his embrace, “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Just relax and let it happen…”

  On the verge of allowing the heat to take over, his words hit her like ice water. Just relax and let it happen… The last time a man said those words to her, she was sixteen and he was nineteen. She had been ready to give in to him, too, but when she hesitated, he took what she hadn’t yet offered.

  Now, history was repeating itself, and she couldn’t let herself fall back into the testosterone trap again.

  “Get off me,” she growled. Tom White paid for what he did to her all those years ago, and if this stranger didn’t do what he was told, he would pay, too. Maybe even if he did what she said, he’d pay anyway.

  “What’s wrong?” he said as he rolled off. “Second thoughts? They’ll pass. Have another drink. I can wait.”

  “I’m glad you can,” she replied as she decided she didn’t have time to find her bra and pulled her shirt on anyway. “Because you’ll be waiting longer than you know, Tom.”

  “Who in blazes is Tom?”

  Emma blinked and shook her head. For an instant, she had really seen Tom lying half-naked on the bed before her. “I thought that was your name.”

  “Hell no, lady. You don’t tell me your name; I don’t tell you mine. No introductions; no regrets. That way we both get to go home without worrying about the other showing up on our doorsteps one day and wanting something more.”

  She stopped with one leg in her jeans. “So this is just about sex?”

  He laughed. “Isn’t that what it’s always about in Sin City?”

  Before she realized it, her rage simmered to a dull roar. “Nothing if not honest?” she heard herself say.

  “That’s me. Honest John, or whatever you want to call me, Pretty Lady. Hell, you don’t even have to call me anything. Unless you feel moved to rename me ‘Oh, God’.” He winked at her as he crossed his arms behind his head. “But if you’re still feeling like you have to have something meaningful in all of this, it’d be a shame to let the door hit you in that beautiful keister of yours.”

  “You don’t care if I go?” The world shifted dangerously in her mind. No man had ever let her out of the bedroom once they started. Not that she ever tried before, but she always knew she could never make them stop, even if she wanted to. She wasn’t sure men could stop.

  “No skin off my ass. Not that I wasn’t hoping to have a partner in this big bed, but I sure as hell don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here.” He rubbed his hand over his chin stubble and grimaced. “Tell you what. While you’re making up your mind, I’m gonna grab a quick shower and shave. If you want to scoot out while I’m not looking, go ahead. No hard feelings. If you’re still here when I get back, and you’re feeling like a little lovin’, I’ll be happy to oblige, but if you’re not in the mood, I hope you don’t mind if I show you the door. After the evening we’ve had, I have something I need to take care of, if you catch my drift.”

  She didn’t bother trying to catch his drift. Already he was the most unusual male she ever met, and thinking about him in that way represented more than she could handle. When Will still controlled her life, she couldn’t ever dare to refuse him. Without a little work on her part, he would never consent to the pretty things she loved so much. A little tit for some major tat, was how he put it.

  Listening to the mystery man in the bathroom, all thoughts of his demise left her. He wasn’t really such a bad guy. He just knew what he wanted, and while he wasn’t afraid to go after it, he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want as much as he did. In another life, maybe he would be perfect for her. Maybe if she met him twenty years ago, she wouldn’t have married Will, and this whole mission wouldn’t be necessary.

  But she didn’t and it was.

  Whispering a soft goodbye, she slipped from the suite. Not all men were bad, obviously, but that didn’t excuse the bad ones from paying for their sins.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Good riddance. Will’s whisper brushed her ear as the door closed behind her. The last thing you need is more distractions. I thought you had some business you needed to take care of here so you could—

  “Shut up,” Emma said through clenched teeth. A couple in matching Hawaiian shirts were just coming from their suite. They stopped halfway out, jaws hanging. “What are you looking at?” The woman grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled him back inside. Before the door had time to slam, Emma was inside the elevator.

  You know, Honey, her husband said with a snicker, if you keep talking to yourself in public, they’re going to lock you up.

  “Shut up, or I’ll…”

  Kill me? His laughter echoed through the empty elevator. You already did that. What else can you do?

  Of their own volition, her hands rose to cover her ears, but his snide comments and snotty jibes still rang through her. She needed to find a way to silence her dead husband before he drove her to the very thing he teased her about—a mental hospital. If only he would stay as quiet as he’d been while her new studly friend was around. His cocksure attitude frightened Will—if not away, then at least into silence.

  You need to forget about your fling, Emmy. He would’ve just used you and tossed you aside. That’s all you’re really good for anyway.

  “Shut up,” she screamed. Her eyes darted from one corner of the elevator to the other. If she could only see her tormentor—if she could only get her hands around his throat—she could stop him. Her arms rose and her hands clenched of their own volition.

  Will chortled in her ear. You know these places have security cameras in the elevators, too. Right now, some fat guard is sitting in front of a monitor watching you lose your mind. I bet he’s already calling his buddies. I know I would, if I was him. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re waiting for you when you reach the lobby.

  For an instant, she almost hoped his words were true. If they arrested her—had her committed—maybe finally she would get some peace. In the nuthouse, Will would be driven from her head either by a good batch of drugs or a few thousand volts. With him still prattling in her ear, either option sounded good.

  Maybe your precious Studly will help you. He looked rich. If you’re lucky, he’s got plenty of pull in this town. Will clicked his tongue at her. Of course, when he finds out what you did to all those men, he’ll probably run screaming, but that’s a chance you’ll have to take. That’s the ticket. Let your beefcake bail you out.

  Her mind went to the man she’d left bathing. At this point, he’d be getting out of the shower. Water droplets would be tracing their way down through the thatch of fur on his chest; sliding downward into the patch of fuzz on his belly. She longed for one night in his arms; she ached for one night of silence…

  Before Will could say another word, she pressed the next floor. She’d get out there and double back to the stairs. Let security try to find her. She would be wrapped in Studly’s arms by the time they even bothered to search for her. He would keep her safe, and while he did, Will would stay away. He had to. He never could stand competition.

  #

  Jace was right in the middle of a delicious dream where a hard body lay draped over her own. His face remained in shadow, but she envisioned every inch of his body as her fingertips explored. As she nearly caught the vaguest glimpse of his profile in the flickering candlelight, the phone rang and she awoke, cursing her dumb luck.

  Dawn peeked through the crack between the drapes, and she could feel the late hours like pumice under her eyelids.

  “Hello?” she said as she flipped the phone up to her ear.

  “Jace?” She hoped it was her tired ears, but Frank sounded uncharacteristically uneasy.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’ve got a probl
em.”

  Her right-hand man no sooner began speaking when the hotel phone rang beside her. “Hold on a second…”

  “I can’t. Let it ring. Listen. Graham got a phone call this morning. Apparently someone further up the food chain heard from some Clem in La Junta, Colorado. I don’t know what all was said, but our boss looks ready to make Vesuvius look like a bottle rocket. I’d lay you odds that’s him on the other line.”

  “Fu… I’ll call you back.” She hoped Frank hadn’t expected a goodbye. Her finger pressed the off button as her other hand picked up the corded hotel phone.

  “Hello.”

  “God damn it, Douglas, what kind of game are you playing out there?” Graham sounded worse than Frank indicated. “I got a call from the Director himself this morning, and he spent a good hour chewing my ass into ribbons because some local yokel in Colorado informed him about a problem he has with our staff commandeering his staff. Now, you’re getting some of what I got. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  She swallowed hard. All of this could only refer to Ben Yancy, but other than that, she had no idea what the problem could be. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she said, hoping her words were true.

  “I’m talking about your breaking protocol and bringing local law enforcement into this investigation without proper authority.” Nope. Graham had latched onto the Ben Yancy problem. “I’m talking about your new buddy giving his boss notice, saying he quit so he could go after this suspect. I’m talking about,” he paused for a quick breath, and Jace steeled herself for the next wave, “the shit storm you’re riding right now, without bothering to ask me if I wanted to come along for the ride. Start talking, and make sure it’s good, or I’ll be yanking you off this case so fast your head will spin right off your shoulders.”

  “Sir… I didn’t think this would be that big a problem.” Not exactly true, but the closest to true she could afford to give him. “Detective Yancy has been of great assistance to this investigation, and I don’t believe we would be as far as we are without him. Ben didn’t say anything to me about quitting. He assured me he could afford to take time off his own duties to assist in this case, and…” She inhaled deeply, wondering how much information Graham should have and whether her words would only get her in hotter water. “Sir, he also assured me that he would run his own investigation concurrent with our own if I didn’t bring him in. I weighed the options and saw him as more of a benefit working with us than he would be if I had to trip over him every second.”

  “That decision isn’t up to you.”

  “I’m aware I overstepped my bounds, but if you’ll let us continue working the case together, I guarantee you’ll see better results than I’ve been able to give you on my own with this.”

  “I never should’ve given you this case.” His voice thickened, but whether disappointment tinged his tone or something else, she couldn’t tell.

  She thought about the long sessions he ordered her to have with the department shrink. All the therapist’s files passed through his hands before he would even allow her on this case. If she was in charge, she would do the same to any agent. Pyrophobia and arson cases didn’t mix. But the shrink cleared her for this case. “If this is about my… issues… with fire.”

  “It’s not that. If I thought your past would interfere with your work, I would’ve canned you months ago.” The anger seemed to drain from his voice as he said, “I do think it’s part of the problem, though. The fire in your past has got you too wrapped up in finding the killer. It’s making you lose perspective. You know better than bringing Yancy along on this, Jace. He’s nothing more than a local cop, for Christ’s sake. If he gets killed while he’s working this case, we could be in a world of trouble.”

  “If that’s your only concern, sir—”

  Graham growled in her ear. “It’s not my only concern, and you know it. He’s not trained for this.”

  Thinking about Ben and how much he’d helped her, she couldn’t let the Director think he was just a rookie. “He’s gotten better training than some of the agents you have sitting around the office right now. I’d take him over half of those kids.” Her words dried up in her mouth as she realized she’d just put down the people Graham had hired.

  “Those kids got the same training you did, Agent Douglas.” She cringed from the low and slow tone in his voice. “What kind of training does this Yancy guy have to match theirs?”

  “He doesn’t, sir, but we could… I mean, you could… Not for this case, mind you, but still... He knows his stuff, he knows law enforcement. The rest is all bureaucratic—”

  “Don’t even go there. The rest is what separates us from local law enforcement.” He paused for a moment, and she felt her heart thud against her ribs. “Or would you like to spend some time back in the ranks with the beat cops?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And even if this Yancy is that good, this agency isn’t hiring.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, sir. I know I screwed up. It was unintentional, and I’m sorry,” she said, “but you can’t stop this now without damaging the investigation. If we want to catch this unsub, I need Ben… I mean, Detective Yancy.”

  “It could mean both of our asses.”

  She respected Graham. If this thing had to go bad, he didn’t deserve to go down with it. “No, sir. Only mine. If this goes bad, I’ll take full responsibility. Just let us finish this, and then you can kick my butt from there to San Antonio.”

  Her boss huffed his disapproval, but the anger in his voice had faded to mere irritation. “No. If this goes bad, we’ll sink together. So, Jace?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t let it go bad. My wife will never forgive you if we have to move again.”

  He hung up before she could thank him, leaving her staring at the receiver until it beeped in protest. With one finger, she disconnected the call and then pressed zero. “Get me Ben Yancy’s room, please.” He had some explaining to do and, like her boss said, it better be good.

  His voice across the line almost derailed the good head of steam she’d built. He sounded too pleasant, too warm. Not only that, but his hello brought last night’s goodbye to mind.

  “Before you start,” he said, dipping into her thoughts, “I just got off the phone with Frank, and he filled me in. I can explain—”

  “You better start talking, or I’m coming over there, and in case you forgot, I have a gun.”

  “Let’s discuss this over breakfast instead of over the phone.” She held the receiver and stared at it like he’d not only lost his marbles, but the bag they came in. This wasn’t a breakfast chat; this was her chewing him out in return for getting chewed out herself.

  “You only want it in public so I won’t yell at you,” she said. “Well, listen up, buster. If you think that’s going to stop me, you don’t know me very well.”

  “Then we’ll have breakfast in your room.”

  The thought of him all refreshed and smelling of soap—in her hotel room—didn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling she woke up with. “Fine. I’ll meet you in the lobby in a half hour.”

  “Should I wear my vest? Or will a cup be necessary?”

  “If I said yes, then you’d know what I have planned, and what would be the fun in that?” she added, and then hung up before he had a chance to ask what she meant.

  She arrived in the lobby twenty-five minutes later, her hair still soggy and leaving a line of drips down the back of her t-shirt. The thought had been to beat Yancy downstairs and greet him with her best stony expression. Too bad, he had almost the same thought.

  But his expression came off way too cheerful.

  “Shall we eat here or grab a table at the diner across the street?”

  One look at the continental breakfast buffet stocked with drier than dust pastries and tiny boxes of cereal made both their minds up in a hurry. A short walk later, they were
seated and awaiting a real breakfast.

  “Well?” she said after their coffee arrived.

  “Good coffee.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You lied to me, Ben Yancy, and I’d like to know what the hell you were thinking.”

  “Lied?” he said, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

  “You told me you had authorization to leave. You said you had vacation time coming, and you were going to use it. You said—”

  “I know what I said, Jace, and I didn’t lie about that. I said I had authorization to leave, not that I had La Junta’s blessing to come with you. I did have vacation time—a boatload of it, in fact—and it’s funding this trip. So what if I fudged around the edges? I was ready to quit sitting on my ass anyway. Using my skills to hunt down meth labs and peeping toms? I was trained to be a homicide detective, and after I got out of Detroit, I thought a nice, easy life in Southern Colorado would be perfect. It did its job, but for the last year, I’ve been bored as hell.”

  “So you saw me as your opportunity to get out and do something more exciting?” She tried to keep the hurt from her voice, but the admission he had used her stung too hard to not leak through.

  “No!” he said, almost scaring their waitress into dropping the tray laden with their food. Once she set their plates down and wandered away, he began again. “No. It wasn’t like that. I started applying elsewhere months ago. You showing up in town only prodded me to stop hedging my bets.”

  “Hedging your bets?”

  “Cooling my heels in a nowhere job, collecting a paycheck for work that didn’t need doing instead of taking control of my life. I really owe you a debt, you know.” He slathered a piece of dark toast with butter and jam before resuming. “In all honesty, Jace, your arrival really helped me out, but it wasn’t the only thing driving me on this trip.”