Snapped

by Laura Griffin

  “This isn’t a game.”

  “You wanted me to chase after you? Fine. I’m here, Sophie. But I’m not going back alone.”

  “You can’t make me go with you.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. Then he stepped closer and gazed down at her with that intensity that made her heart thrum. Her insides tightened. There were just a few inches between them, and the space seemed charged with electricity.

  He bent his head down, and his breath was warm against her temple. “Take it off.”

  She pulled back and looked up at him. “What?”

  “That scarf thing.” His voice was low and rough. “Take it off.”

  Her blood heated at the words. “You want me to—”

  “Yes.”

  Her arms dropped to her sides. She felt ridiculously self-conscious. She had on a bathing suit, for heaven’s sake, but this seemed like a striptease.

  Which was the point. He wanted her to do it. It was a power thing.

  She could have told him to go to hell. She could have walked out. She could have pretended she didn’t want him here and his showing up hadn’t sent her stupid, hopeful heart into a tizzy.

  He watched her steadily, waiting for her to decide.

  She reached up and tugged the knot. The fabric came loose and puddled on the floor at her feet. She held the last fringed corner in her hand, then let it go.

  Jonah’s gaze traveled over her, taking in the scrapes and the bandage, before settling on her string of bruises. They were darker today, almost black. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, but she saw his eyes go flat.

  His gaze met hers, still cool. Then it moved back to her body and she felt even more self-conscious. She worked hard to stay in shape, and she liked the way she looked. But standing before him in only a few wisps of fabric, with his face so cold and emotionless, she wanted the sarong back.

  He eased closer and rested his finger just above her hipbone. He traced a path along her bruise, and she held her breath as his finger trailed over her breast and stopped at her collarbone.

  “does it hurt?”

  She shrugged. Her throat was too dry for words. Her pulse was racing, and she wondered if her nerves showed on her face.

  His hand dropped away and his gaze moved over her again, but with none of the warm approval she’d expected when she’d imagined being alone in a bedroom with him for the first time. She knew he was attracted to her. She’d seen it, felt it. Where had that gone?

  She mustered her courage and reached behind her back. She untied the string. A smolder came into his eyes as she reached for her neck and untied the string there, too. With a quiet swish, her top landed on the toes of his boots.

  Her skin burned under his gaze. She went on tiptoes and kissed him, and for a moment, he didn’t move. But then she pressed into him. She licked her tongue along the seam of his mouth, and when he pulled her against him and kissed her deeply, she felt the thrill of it down to her core. He tasted so good, so male, and his powerful arms came around her and made her feel protected, like she always felt with him. His big hands closed firmly over her butt, and she started to feel intoxicated.

  She wanted to touch him, desperately. She tugged at his T-shirt, and he stopped what he was doing long enough to yank it over his head and fling it away. She clamped her hands over his pecs and slid them down, dragging her thumbs over that trail of hair that led beneath his jeans. She stopped at the belt buckle, but he brushed her hands aside so he could loosen his holster and get rid of the gun. He laid it beside her purse.

  “Come here,” he said, reaching for her again and leaning back against the dresser. He braced his legs apart and fit her snugly against him, so the ridge in his jeans was lined up with the one scrap of clothing she had left. Delight zinged through her as he cupped her breasts in his hands and dipped his head down to kiss them.

  “You smell like coconuts,” he murmured.

  “I’ve been at the beach.”

  His mouth closed over her nipple and she bit back a yelp and tipped her head back. He licked her and kissed her and teased her while she combed her fingers through his hair. The stubble on his face scratched her skin, but his hands were careful—she could tell he was worried about her bruises. She pressed against him and tried to let him know she was up for whatever he could dish out. She wanted a real match up, no holds barred. She loved the strength of him, the feel of him, the intent way he was kissing and touching her. When his arms tightened around her, she let out a whimper.

  He started to pull away, but she caught him. “No, it’s good.” She nipped his earlobe. “You don’t have to be gentle.”

  His eyes sparked and he took her mouth again in a fierce, hot kiss that went on and on until every cell in her body was alive and dying to be touched by him. She couldn’t get enough of him as she ran her hands up and down his back, loving the muscles there and the deep indention along his spine, the smooth hardness of his skin. She rolled her hips against his, and got a low moan in response.

  Suddenly she was up off her feet. He carried her the few steps to the bed and deposited her in the center of the low mattress. The springs creaked loudly and he glanced around.

  “This place is a dump, Sophie.” He slid his knee between hers and leaned over her, bracing his weight on his arms.

  “It’s affordable.”

  He smiled down at her. Then his gaze slid to her bruises, and the smile faded.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, and the serious look on his face made tears spring into her eyes.

  “I won’t break, I promise.” She smiled and tried to lighten the moment. This was supposed to be fun. And even though she did feel a little fragile, it wasn’t because of her bruises—it was the emotions he’d stirred up by showing up here out of the blue. She reached out and cupped his cheek. “Really, I’m good. More than good.”

  He seemed to take her at her word, and the next kiss was a long, relentless assault on all her senses. He kissed her until the only thing she felt, the only thing she could think of, was the all-consuming need to have him. She wrapped her legs around him, and as his jeans rasped against her skin, she realized he was still wearing most of his clothes.

  As if reading her mind, he stood up to pull his boots off and tug the wallet from his pocket. He tossed it on the nightstand and climbed back on the bed with her. She hooked a leg around him and pulled him to her, and the bed creaked even louder this time.

  The look of exasperation on his face made her giggle.

  “I swear, if this collapses under us …” He didn’t finish the thought, but instead pinned her wrists beside her head and dipped his head down to nuzzle her breasts.

  She squirmed under him, but he wouldn’t let her wrists go, and she decided she liked that. She rolled her hips against him, over and over, showing him the rhythm she wanted, and then he finally released her and watched her hotly as he slid the rest of her bikini off and tossed it on the floor. Her eyes drifted shut as he touched her and she let herself get lost in the warm magic of his hands.

  He found her mouth again, and she wound her legs around him and kissed him with all the pent-up heat and need that had been building inside her for months. God, she’d wanted this. This man. This feeling. This burning, insatiable hunger that made her dizzy and giddy and weepy all at the same time.

  He braced himself on one arm and gazed down at her as he opened his jeans. He reached over her, for his wallet.

  “You don’t need that,” she said.

  For a split second, he hesitated. But then he shifted over her. She closed her eyes and arched her hips up to meet him as he pushed in.

  She gasped at the force of it. Her body clenched, and her nerves exploded with the white-hot, searing pleasure of being joined. For a moment, he didn’t move. And then he pulled back and did it again, harder, and she clung to his shoulders as he set a powerful rhythm that made her nerves sing. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t talk. All she could do was wrap herself around him and h
ang on. The springs moaned. The air heated. Their bodies grew slick with sweat as they went on and on and on until she thought she would combust.

  “Sophie …” His voice was raw, tight.

  “Yes.”

  His shoulders tensed under her hands. She arched against him, and in a flashing, glorious moment, she flew over the edge. As she was gliding back to earth, he made a last, violent thrust and shuddered against her.

  With a mighty groan, he rolled onto his back, leaving her cold and very naked beside him. The springs were still echoing as she opened her eyes and blinked up at the ceiling.

  She lay there a few moments, dazed and winded. Then she rolled onto her side and propped up on an elbow.

  His eyes were shut. Sweat beaded at his temples. His chest rose and fell as if he’d just run a marathon.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  He opened one eye and looked at her. “You coming, I hope.”

  She smiled. “I meant afterward. The roll-over thing.”

  He closed his eyes. “I didn’t want to crush you.”

  She’d wanted him to crush her. There was something about him that made her crave the solid, heavy weight of him. She’d been yearning for it for months.

  They’d just have to do it again. She liked the idea, even though it had taken a few too many near-death experiences to get them here.

  His eyes were still closed, and she took advantage of the chance to look over his naked body. He scored a very big ten. She liked everything about him, from his size-fourteen feet to his work-roughened hands, which could be so gentle. And then there was all the other good stuff in between.

  He opened his eyes and frowned at her. “Are you checking me out?”

  “Yep.”

  He sighed.

  “What?” She slapped his arm. “You check me out all the time.”

  “Come here.” He slid his arm under her shoulders and scooped her into him. She nestled her cheek against his chest and heard his heart still thrumming from exertion.

  “I’m still pissed at you,” he muttered.

  She slid her thigh over his. “And I’m still not going back.”

  Sean watched her walk up the sidewalk with her arms full of groceries. He should help her with those. He would, too, but for the moment he wanted to observe her unguarded. He wanted to see who she really was.

  The short hair was recent, he confirmed. Probably the color, too. The back of her neck was paler than her face, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed it last time. Instead of the unisex clothes from the other night, she had on a tank top and a long, flowing skirt. It was more the Earth Mother look, but it suited her.

  He pushed off from the tree he’d been leaning on and stepped into her path.

  “Hello, Gretchen.”

  She froze. Her eyes widened. She darted her gaze around, and he could see her deciding whether to bolt.

  He stepped forward and took her grocery bags. “Run, if you want. It’ll just take longer.”

  “Longer for what?”

  “For me to talk to you. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  She flicked a glance over his shoulder, to the door of her sister’s patio home. Sean waited patiently, holding her bags.

  “Is it only you?” she asked.

  “Who else would it be?”

  “I don’t know. Another detective?”

  “It’s just me.” He never would have asked one of his busy coworkers to join him on this little road trip. Not based on a hunch.

  She squared her shoulders and seemed to decide something. “This way.”

  He followed her up the sidewalk, watching her skirt swish around her ankles. She took a set of keys from her oversized leather bag and opened the condo.

  Two cats darted out to greet her. They rubbed up against Sean’s legs, and he tried not to trip as he ferried the groceries inside and set them on the counter. The air smelled like cat and old marijuana. The living room was dark, except for a lamp glowing on an end table.

  Another light went on in the kitchen, and Gretchen busied herself putting away groceries.

  “Do you want anything?” she asked.

  “No.”

  He wandered over to a bookcase and surveyed a row of framed photographs. Gretchen and her kids. Gretchen and her sister and her kids. Gretchen’s kids with her sister. Apparently, these women were close.

  “I’m not going to tell you where they are,” she said, joining him in the living room.

  He looked at her across the dimly lit space. She rested her arm on the counter casually, but he could tell she was nervous.

  “I’m not going to ask you.”

  Relief flashed in her eyes.

  “Are you worried about them?” he asked.

  The look on her face answered the question. He turned back to the photographs.

  “They’re five?”

  “Six.” She cleared her throat. “They just had a birthday. Jim sent a gift and that’s how I knew. About the money. He’d included a letter with the account numbers.”

  “I’m going to need to see that letter.”

  “I burned it.”

  Sean gritted his teeth. He wanted to lecture her, but then he looked at her face more closely. The color had gone out of her cheeks and her eyes were wide. She was terrified.

  Of his being here? Or of something else?

  “Are you worried someone will go after your children?”

  She stood there for a moment, just looking at him. Then she rounded the sofa and sank down on it. “Fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money. Whoever paid it might decide they want it back.”

  “Maybe. On the other hand, they agreed to pay it, and he sure as hell earned it.”

  Her gaze snapped up.

  “He killed three people, and at least one was probably his target. And then he offered himself up as a scapegoat for someone else’s plot.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap. “He was dying, anyway. I didn’t know until after, but—” She shook her head. “It’s all so crazy. The whole thing. How could he do it? I keep thinking, I don’t know, maybe he felt like he was doing something good for the girls. Maybe making amends.”

  Sean stared at her. Had she even read about the victims?

  She glanced up. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t think it was good. I don’t care how much money he left them. But you didn’t know Jim.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “He had this weird … disconnect. It was like regular thinking didn’t apply to him. He had a cold streak.”

  Sean knew all about Himmel’s cold streak.

  He stepped over to the sofa but didn’t sit down. “Our task force has been investigating him. I’ve seen the police reports.”

  “You’re probably wondering why I married him in the first place. But he wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t till later. After his first tour. He came home different than when he left.”

  Sean watched her but didn’t say anything. He needed her to open up.

  “What is it you came to ask me?” she asked. “San Marcos to Houston’s a pretty long hike. It must be important.”

  He sat down in a nearby armchair as she watched him uneasily.

  “Who recruited him for this job?”

  “I told you last time, I don’t know.” She looked away. “All I know about is the money.”

  Sean waited for her gaze to return to his.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She leaned back, defensive now. “I hadn’t spoken to Jim in more than a year. I told you this! I told the army this. And Columbus PD.”

  Sean kept staring at her.

  “What?”

  “You’re a smart woman, Gretchen. You’re intuitive, too.”

  She scoffed. “How would you know? You don’t know anything about me.”

  “You’re wrong about that. I know you have a degree in fine art. I know you’d rather be working for that gallery still, instead of cleaning bedpans at that nu
rsing home. I know you care about your daughters and you knew your husband had a drinking problem and you knew to get your kids away from him before he dislocated their shoulders.”

  Her gaze flashed to his. That part hadn’t been in the police report, but Sean knew it anyway because he was thorough.

  The defensiveness seemed to seep out of her. She rested her elbows on her knees and cradled her head in her hands.

  “I don’t know why he did this to us. The girls will have to live with this always.” She looked up, tormented now. “It’s one thing to have a father who’s a mean drunk. It’s another to have one who’s a murderer. They’re never going to get past this.”

  He waited for her to calm down. She looked at her hands and took a deep breath.

  “You were his wife. You knew things. You still know things.”

  She didn’t look up.

  “Who was it, Gretchen? You’re not the only one who might be in danger here. Anyone who knows there was a conspiracy is at risk.”

  She squinted her eyes shut and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t have a name for you.”

  “What do you have?” His pulse quickened, because he could tell she had something.

  “There was this guy.” She heaved a sigh. “A couple years back. I don’t know his name. Jim never said.”

  “An army guy? Who?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe.” She glanced up guiltily. She should have told him this last time. “I’m fairly sure he and Jim went back pretty far, but that’s just a guess. I got the feeling this man had done more, though, career-wise. Based on the way Jim talked about him, I figured he was Special Operations. ‘Shadow Warriors,’ Jim called them.”

  Jonah had researched Jim’s career. He’d wanted to be a Ranger but hadn’t made the cut. Not because of his shooting ability, but because he wasn’t a team player.

  Gretchen shook her head. “Anyway, after Jim got discharged, the guy showed up one weekend.”

  Sean leaned forward. “You met him?”

  “I didn’t, no. But Jim went out for beers with him.” She rolled her eyes. “Or at least that’s what he said. For all I know, they were picking up hookers or something. Anyway, I think this man wanted to recruit him into some kind of private security company.”