Wild at Heart

by Jane Graves

  The room, without a doubt, had man stamped all over it.

  It was just as he’d figured: she was married, or at least living with a man, because any guy who went to the trouble to shoot that many exotic animals would never have left his hard-won trophies behind. He might be out of the house right now, but it was clear to Alex that he still lived there.

  Just go through the motions and get out of here.

  He turned the corner and went into the bedroom. He flicked the wall switch, and muted light illuminated the room. Oak floors. More Oriental rugs. A king-size four-poster bed. Art on the walls that was probably worth more money than he made in a year.

  “See,” he told her as he entered the room, his gaze circling the area. “Nobody’s here. You must have just forgotten—”

  That was when he heard the zipper.

  He turned around just in time to see that hot little dress fall off her shoulders. It hesitated at her hips, and she shimmied a little to send it the rest of the way to the floor. Now he finally knew what she was wearing beneath it.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Jesus. What had he done to deserve a day like this?

  “I thought I’d put your mind at ease, Officer,” she said, kicking the dress aside and walking toward him on those red stiletto heels, an innocent smile on her face. “You know. In the event you thought I might be carrying a concealed weapon.”

  Weapon? No worry there. She couldn’t have concealed a postage stamp under that dress.

  She reached around, punched a button on the stereo, and hip-hop music poured out. She eased closer and gave him a seductive smile. “But maybe you’d better frisk me just to make sure.”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Your key problem wasn’t accidental.”

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  “Locksmiths don’t come cheap.”

  “No. They don’t.”

  “And it appears you didn’t suspect an intruder, either.”

  She gave him a smile of mock apology. “I’m afraid not. But it’s certainly nice to know just how gallant the members of the Tolosa Police Department can be.”

  With that, she slipped up next to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  The moment he sensed her coming in for the kill, he put his hands on her arms to push her away, but the sheer wantonness with which she attacked him, moving her tongue and her lips and her hands in ways that defied the laws of nature, made resistance a little tougher than he’d anticipated.

  Damn. This woman had talent, and lots of it. She also had a husband out there somewhere, and that was a line he absolutely refused to cross.

  Finally he took her by the shoulders and pushed her away, only to have her grasp his shirt on either side and yank it apart. The buttons snapped off and plinked against the hardwood floor, baring his chest and abdomen all the way to his waist.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, looking down at his ragged shirt. “Are you crazy?”

  “I wanted you from the moment you walked into that place tonight,” she said, sliding her hands beneath his shirt to roam over his chest, “and I never take no for an answer. Before the night is out, you’re going to be very glad that I’m a persistent woman.”

  She shoved his shirt aside, dropped her lips to his chest, then dragged them downward, leaving a trail of ruby-red lipstick in their wake, ending near his belt buckle with a tiny nip of her teeth.

  Holy shit.

  He grasped her by her upper arms and yanked her back up. She responded by leaning into him and pressing her breasts against his bare chest. A strand of bright red hair fell across her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with a look of sheer sexual hunger.

  “Don’t tell me you don’t want me,” she said. “I’ll know you’re lying.”

  He was male, and he was breathing. To say he didn’t want a gorgeous naked woman who was ready, willing, and obviously able would have been slightly disingenuous. But actually to go through with it would be slightly insane.

  He pushed her away to arm’s length, in spite of the fact that the majority of his blood supply was already on its way to his groin. “No. I don’t want you. Not now, not ever. I don’t like deception, and I don’t like games. And I sure as hell don’t mess around with married women.”

  “I told you I’m not married.”

  “That den we passed on the way back here says otherwise.”

  She started to speak, then closed her mouth again, apparently deciding that adding one more lie wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

  “Okay. So what if I’m married? So are you.”

  “Me? I’m not married.”

  “Yeah. Right.” She eased closer to him again. “Look. My husband’s out of town. What he and your wife don’t know won’t hurt them.” She reached for his belt buckle, giving him a seductive smile. “Now, come on, baby. Let’s have a little fun.”

  “No way. I’m out of here.”

  He brushed past her and started to leave the room, when all at once he felt a sharp prick in the back of his right hip. He thought for a moment that he must have been stung by an insect. He reached around blindly to brush it away, but suddenly he felt dizzy. He stayed on his feet as long as he could, but his balance went haywire, knocking him to his knees.

  What the hell …?

  His vision started to swim, and the walls went in and out of focus. He tried to rest back on his heels to regain his balance, but his head was spinning and he couldn’t get his bearings.

  He’d had a beer or two, but not nearly enough to—

  A wave of nausea hit him hard, and he weaved a little, sure he was going to be sick. He squeezed his eyes closed, but it only intensified the dizziness. He fell forward onto the rug, his muscles weak and useless, his mind going dark.

  What the hell had she done to him?

  It was his last thought before he blacked out.

  chapter three

  He’s in there having sex with her.

  Val sat in her van two doors down from the Reichert house, trying to ignore that obvious fact, but still the images of Alex and Shannon together filled her mind. She picked up the newspaper from the seat beside her and fanned herself. It was hot tonight. So hot. And thoughts of Alex naked raised her body temperature even more.

  When Shannon left the Blue Onion, Val had followed her out to the parking lot, relieved that she seemed to have finally given up for the evening. Then Alex had come out, and the moment Val realized that Shannon had finally hooked him, the most awful feeling of dread had swept through her.

  But how could that be? After all this time, how could he still affect her like this? She resented him. Hated him, even, for what he’d done to her. Yet here she was, rattled by the fact that he was having sex with another woman. Of all the men in that bar tonight, why did Shannon have to choose Alex?

  Because she’s not blind.

  And Alex. Why was he messing around with a married woman? While Val doubted he knew Shannon was married when he agreed to go home with her, he had to know by now. The very nature of his profession said he could read people in a heartbeat, so she couldn’t imagine him not being able to discern Shannon’s marital status thirty seconds after entering her house.

  And he wasn’t coming out.

  Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. Finally Val got up the nerve to grab her binoculars and turn them toward the bedroom window, thinking the curtains might be open just a bit and she could see inside. They weren’t.

  She tossed the binoculars aside and sat back with a sigh of disgust. Stop being such a masochist. You don’t really want to see them together, do you?

  She wished now that she’d never taken Jack Reichert’s money, never tailed Shannon tonight, never seen Alex walk into that bar. And if she were smart, she’d get the hell out of there and simply tell Jack Reichert that his wife was an angel and he could stop worrying about her cheating on him, because she didn’t want to deal with any of this.

  Damn
you, Alex. Damn you for getting in the middle of this and making me think about you all over again.

  A myriad of emotions whirled around inside her mind, erasing the present and plunging her back into the past, making her remember what had happened between them, when all she’d ever wanted to do was forget.

  Five years ago, she’d felt every emotion, every desire in her life as if they were fires burning inside her—the pursuit of a profession she wanted desperately, the pursuit of a man she thought she’d die if she didn’t have. Those two things had gotten inextricably bound together until she couldn’t possibly have separated them, until she couldn’t sit through one of Alex’s classes at the academy without her mind wandering into uncharted territory. Every move he made seemed sexual to her, every word he spoke a verbal caress. Sometimes she’d sit there pretending to take notes, but all the while she’d be wondering what he’d be like as a lover. Cool and calculating? Warm and sensual? Hot and dangerous? She had a feeling he could be all those things, and more.

  Then she’d found out. One incredible night, she’d found out. Afterward he’d held her in his arms. He hadn’t said a word. He’d just held her tightly, as if he never wanted to let her go, and in her youthful ignorance she thought that meant something. She thought it right up to the moment she awoke the next morning and found him gone.

  Later that day she found out she was being dismissed from the academy.

  It was a blow that had shaken her all the way to her bones. And when she found out who had recommended she be dismissed, the pain of it had been more than she could tolerate. Alex had known the whole time he was making love to her that he’d put the wheels in motion for her dismissal.

  He was the reason she wasn’t a police officer today, and the reason that even now she examined a man’s motives with a microscope before she let him get within shouting distance. Alex had given her a lesson in the difference between love and lust, attraction and admiration, then thrown in a primer on the advisability of trusting a man whose loyalties lay elsewhere. They were all very thorough lessons she’d never forgotten.

  Or forgiven.

  Val already had photos of Alex talking to Shannon outside the bar, along with photos of them getting into his car together and going into her house. Photos could disgrace a person like nothing else, and if that person needed disgracing, she never hesitated to take dozens of them.

  The one thing she didn’t have this time was video evidence. Jack Reichert had told her that it was unnecessary for her to set up video surveillance equipment or even a bug in the bedroom, insisting that his wife would never have the audacity to bring a lover into their home. He’d been dead wrong, of course, but now Val was glad she hadn’t pushed the issue. If she were true to her client, she’d have to preview such a video to ensure its quality before giving it to him, and she hated the thought of actually seeing what she’d already pictured so clearly in her mind.

  But in this case, video didn’t matter. She had plenty of evidence to prove to Reichert the identity of the man his wife was seeing. And if she let him have that information, Alex could be humiliated.

  She pondered that for a moment, then thought, So what? She had nothing to feel guilty about. If Alex had no qualms about screwing around with a married woman, she had no qualms about passing that information on to the woman’s husband. It would be up to Reichert to decide what to do with it. If his plans included a little public embarrassment, so be it. Alex had handed her enough humiliation to last her a lifetime. Maybe it was time he was forced to experience firsthand exactly what it felt like.

  Sorry, Alex. This is what good boys get who mess around with bad girls.

  She picked up her camera again, adjusted the telephoto lens, then zeroed in on the license plate on Alex’s car. But before she could click the shutter, she heard a noise coming from her phone-tap receiver. A dial tone. Music in the background. Then only three numbers were dialed.

  Nine, one, and one.

  She sat up suddenly and jacked up the sound. The operator came on the line. Then she heard Alex’s voice, controlled panic flooding every word.

  “I’m at the scene of an attempted murder, and I’ve got a woman who’s not breathing. Get someone over here right now.”

  Val froze. What did he say? Attempted murder? Woman not breathing?

  What the hell was going on in there?

  Throwing open the van door, she leaped out and hit the ground running. She raced across the lawn, reached the sidewalk, then hurried up to the front door and found it ajar. She flung it open and scanned the foyer. No one was in sight. Loud music was coming from the back of the house.

  She hurried down the hall, looking right and left through doorways. Den. Guest room. Bathroom. Then the hall took a right turn, and suddenly she was standing at a bedroom doorway. From the look of it, it was the master bedroom.

  Alex was on the bed beside Shannon. His hand was beneath her neck, tilting her head backward. He was dressed. She wasn’t. Her naked body lay sprawled on the bed, those red heels still strapped to her feet.

  She wasn’t moving.

  Alex bent over her, and for a split second, Val had the surreal impression that he was kissing her. Then he dropped his ear against her chest.

  CPR.

  “Alex?”

  He snapped his head around. For a long, suspended moment, he just stared at her, clearly not believing what he was seeing.

  “Val? What in the hell are you doing here?”

  She just stared at him, then at Shannon. The woman’s face was a sickly shade of gray. A deathly shade of gray.

  “What are you doing here?” Alex demanded. “Tell me!”

  “Surveillance,” she said finally. “Jack Reichert suspected her of cheating and hired me to tail her.”

  “Her husband?”

  “Yes. And I heard your nine-one-one call.”

  “You had her phone tapped?”

  “Yes.”

  “God, I don’t believe any of this.” He started chest compressions, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “Damn it! Where’s EMS?”

  EMS. CPR. Acronyms that frequently led to DOA.

  “They’re coming,” Val said. “I hear the sirens. Is she—”

  “I don’t know,” he said, dropping his ear to her chest again. “I can’t hear a thing, and I’m not sure about her pulse, either. Damn it! Will you smash that stereo?”

  Val ran over to the stereo and poked at the multitude of buttons, finally locating the on/off switch. Silence fell over the room. Alex listened to Shannon’s chest again while Val crawled onto the bed from the other side and reached for her neck to feel for a carotid pulse.

  “Oh, my God!”

  She recoiled sharply, yanking her hand away. A bruise circled Shannon’s neck, with a horizontal ribbon of blood just beneath her chin.

  For a moment Val thought she was going to be sick, and she swallowed hard to suppress the sensation. Alex breathed twice into Shannon’s mouth again, then did more chest compressions, his jaw clenched, shoving so hard against her that the bed shook. Val’s gaze traveled from Shannon’s neck down to her left arm. A red welt encircled her wrist, standing out in sharp relief to her pale porcelain skin. She had a matching wound on her right wrist.

  Then Val noticed the scarves.

  Dangling from the bedposts were a pair of knotted silk scarves, their ends tattered, fluttering softly with every move Alex made. And on the pillow next to Shannon’s head was a man’s belt, the end still looped through the buckle.

  Alex wasn’t wearing one.

  A sick sensation crept through Val’s stomach. Shannon had been tied to those bedposts. Alex’s belt had been around her neck. And somebody had pulled it tight.

  Erotic asphyxiation.

  The term came to her in a fuzzy, out-of-focus memory, one of those lurid things she’d read about somewhere or seen in a documentary and filed away, thinking she’d never have to access it again. And certainly never in conjunction with Alex DeMarco. He was a
man she’d once admired. A man who could do no wrong. A man whose lofty ideals she’d never been able to live up to.

  A man who got his sexual kicks in ways she never could have imagined.

  “What happened here?” Val asked, her voice choked. “Tell me what happened!”

  “I don’t know.”

  She blinked with surprise. “You don’t know? How could you not know? You were here all the time!”

  “Yes,” he said, suddenly looking a little confused. “I was. But I was out—”

  “Out?”

  “Unconscious,” he said sharply. “Passed out. I was drugged or something. When I woke up, she was tied to the bed, and … and the belt was around her neck.”

  Unconscious?

  Then she noticed his shirt. It was hanging open. Threads dangling. Ripped in places where buttons had once been. And a smear of something red trailed down his chest. Without even getting closer, Val knew what it was: lipstick.

  Something had gone on between them tonight, something wild and out of control, something that had shoved Shannon right to the border between life and death.

  And Alex had pushed her over.

  He slowed his efforts at resuscitation, then stopped completely, his breath coming hard, staring down at Shannon’s lifeless body as if he’d finally realized he was trying to resuscitate a woman who wasn’t coming back.

  The sirens grew louder.

  He put his hand against his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed as if he had a severe headache. His breathing was still harsh and heavy, echoing through the silence of the bedroom.

  Val had never seen him with a hair out of place. A wrinkle in his clothes. A speck of dust anywhere. He’d always had the shipshape, spit-polished look of a man who was in control of every aspect of his life.

  Now he looked weary. His hair was mussed, his shoulders sagging, his shirt torn. And there was an unmistakable glimmer of panic in his eyes.