Seconds or maybe minutes later, she lay boneless beneath him, her pulse still humming in her ears. He propped his weight on his elbows and stared down at her. His forehead was slick with sweat, and she wanted to reach up and touch his face, but she doubted she could move. His gaze was serious, and he seemed to be asking her something, but she didn’t know what it was. And then she realized.
“I’m on the pill,” she whispered.
“I know.”
He shifted her onto her side, and she gasped as her skin unglued itself from the leather, like a giant Band-Aid being ripped off. Then he wedged himself between her and the back of the couch and pulled her snugly against him. His hand reached over and settled on her breast.
She closed her eyes and let contentment wash over her as their heart rates returned to normal and his thumb stroked her nipple. Then his hand glided over her stomach and found her hip.
“I love this.” He stroked his palm over the curve of it.
Her impossibly wide hips? She turned to look at him over her shoulder as if he was crazy.
“You do?”
He made a sound in his throat, kind of like a growl, and gripped her skin. Then his hand slid around to her rump and squeezed. “Yep. Every inch of you.”
Her already flushed cheeks warmed, and she turned away and settled her head on his biceps as she tried to think of something to say. Actually, I’ve been working half my life to get rid of those particular inches. But she wasn’t about to lie there against his perfectly toned body and start pointing out her flaws.
She closed her eyes and let herself drift, not thinking about anything beyond the contentment spreading through her and her heightened awareness of her own body. The minutes flowed by as he lazily stroked her. She heard footsteps in the hallway. A dog outside. The distant snort of someone’s Harley tearing out of the parking lot. How quickly she’d forgotten what it was like to live right on top of people.
He kissed her beneath her ear, and it was so gentle that her heart melted a little.
“Mia?”
“Hmm.” She held her breath, waiting for whatever he might say.
“I’m starving.”
She turned to look at him as he got up from the couch and went into the bedroom. When he returned a few minutes later in a pair of jeans, she was shrugging back into his sweatshirt. It was fuzzy on the inside, and she loved the feel of it against her newly sensitized skin. She stopped by the bathroom to freshen up and then walked into the kitchen.
“You want some dinner?” He was already rooting around in the refrigerator, and she took a moment to look at him in the brighter light. In only blue jeans and with a day’s worth of beard darkening his jaw, he looked amazingly sexy. She couldn’t believe he found her so attractive—attractive enough to make love to her so fiercely that it left them both sweaty.
Of course, maybe he made love to all women that way. The idea put a sour taste in her mouth.
He switched on his stove and started melting a pat of butter in a pan, and her eyebrows tipped up as she surveyed the ingredients lined up on his counter.
“Grilled cheese?”
“Ham, cheese, and jalapeño. You’ll like it.”
“I’m really not hungry, thanks.”
Thirsty, though. She opened his fridge and peered inside. Beer and condiments dominated the scene. Out of curiosity, she peeked into the freezer. Pizza, TV dinners.
“Ben and Jerry’s?” Not only did he not strike her as the decadent ice cream type, but she never in a million years would have picked him for New York Super Fudge Chunk. He worked on his sandwich as she pulled out the carton. Behind it was a tub of Chunky Monkey, and Mia froze, staring at it. A little lump rose in her throat.
“How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I can read a police report.”
She looked at him, stunned. He’d bought her favorite ice cream knowing he would ultimately get her there, in the middle of his kitchen, looking for a postcoital snack. She didn’t know whether to be blown away by his arrogance or deeply moved that he’d been so thoughtful. Her brain jumped at the second choice, and her eyes suddenly blurred with tears.
His brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re crying over ice cream.”
She turned her back on him and took the Super Fudge Chunk to the other side of the kitchen, where she started opening drawers. She went through three junk drawers before finding the silverware.
He eased up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “See?” He muttered against her neck, then kissed it. “I’m not always a jerk.”
She gave a watery laugh and turned around. “Who said you’re a jerk?”
He cupped her face in his hand and gazed down at her. “I blew up earlier.” His hand trailed down and lingered at her elbow, right below where her line of stitches was healing. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“You didn’t.”
He set the ice cream aside and pulled her against his chest. His heart was back to normal now, and it thudded strongly against her ear.
“I’m having a crap day,” he said against the top of her head. “Or I was. Until a minute ago.”
She squeezed her arms tighter. “Is there anything I can do?”
Laughing softly, he pulled back from her, and she didn’t miss the gleam in his eye. “Uh, yeah.”
Her cheeks flushed. She turned her attention to the ice cream, pulling the top off and digging in with her spoon. Someone had already made a dent.
“Looks like you’ve got mice living in your freezer,” she said around a rich bite of chocolate.
He switched off the stove, then leaned back against the counter and chomped into the sandwich, not bothering with a plate.
“Tell me about your crap day,” she said, scooping up another velvety bite. Even more than the ice cream, she was savoring just being with him at the tail end of an evening and hearing about work. She’d never had that kind of companionship, and it felt good.
“Investigation’s a mess. Basically, our search warrant netted us zip, not even any good prints. Just Lane’s family and his housekeeper.”
“Does that mean you’re backing off him as a suspect?”
“I’m not, but everyone else is.” He turned to retrieve a beer from the fridge and opened it bare handed before tossing the cap onto the counter. “Everyone with anything in the way of survival instincts.” He took a swig.
She got a flutter in her stomach watching him move and talk and drink in only his faded jeans. This seemed so natural to her. Couldn’t he see it?
“Maybe you should look out for your job a little.”
“My priority is this case.” His look darkened. “It’s keeping me up nights. And in my gut, I know I’m not that far off. I can’t be.” His shook his head. “I’m just missing something.”
The silence settled between them as he polished off his sandwich and she picked at the ice cream. One thing she did know about Ric, he was a good detective. She’d seen him in action many times. If he was that certain that he was onto something, she believed he was right. And she admired his courage in going after one of the most powerful politicians in the state the same way he would have gone after some low-life drug dealer who’d killed off a rival, even if said rival was just as much of a lowlife. He worked the cases for every victim, every time, whether the victim was a prostitute or a teenage gangster or a little old church lady.
Mia zeroed in on a hunk of white chocolate, determined not to find any more reasons to be in love with Ric tonight.
“There’s something else.”
She was startled by the ominous look he gave her. He had his arms folded over his chest now, and that simmering thing was back. She swallowed a cold bite.
“What?”
“It’s been eating at me all day. All week.” He stepped forward and planted himself in front of her, settling his hands on his hips. She felt a stir of apprehension.
“It’s Black.”
“What?”
“Your f
riend. Black.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. “I’m so jealous of the guy I can’t—” He glanced up and frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
She licked the ice cream from her spoon and shook her head. “That’s such a male reaction. He gives me a ride to work. I’m not standing in his kitchen half-naked, eating his ice cream at eleven at night.”
He gazed at her, the side of his jaw still twitching. “Why did he call you? Earlier in the car? You didn’t answer, but it was him, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She saw the question in his eyes.
“It wasn’t a booty call, if that’s what you’re wondering. Jeez.”
That had been exactly what he was wondering, she could tell. Mia took a deep breath and reached for patience. This was coming from his experience with his ex-wife, and they were going to have to get past this hang-up.
“He’s been helping me. Giving me transportation. Lending me his pistol and teaching me some basics.”
Ric took the ice cream carton from her hands and put it on the counter. “Ask me. Not him.” He stepped closer and settled his hands at her waist.
“Okay.” She tipped her head to the side. “In that case, I need something.”
He waited.
“He’s supposed to pick me up tomorrow to go look at used cars. I finally got my insurance check.”
“I can help you look at cars.” His gaze went to her mouth, and she seriously doubted that he was thinking about cars.
She licked ice cream from her lip, and she knew car shopping was the furthest thing from his mind. “I don’t need your help picking out a car. I need a ride to the dealership.”
Suddenly, his hands tightened around her waist. He lifted her onto the counter, and she gasped at the cool tile under her bare butt.
“I can do that.” He slid his hands under her sweatshirt and held her hips again, then leaned in and started kissing her neck.
She closed her eyes and let herself feel him—the warm pull of his mouth, the pressure of his palms stroking her thighs. He eased her legs apart and pulled her forward until she was almost slipping off the counter, but he caught her against him.
“Ric?” She leaned back to look at him. His shoulders tensed under her hands, and she knew he was expecting her to bring up something he didn’t want to talk about right now.
“Do you think it’s possible that someday …” She stretched the question out and watched him brace himself. “Is there even a slight possibility that you and I might, at some point, do this in a bed?”
Relief washed over his face, and she tried not to let it hurt her feelings.
The side of his mouth curled up. “I can definitely make that happen.”
CHAPTER 24
Ric’s bed turned out to be a very, very good place, and he left her in it early the next morning, with a brief kiss and a promise to come back around lunchtime to take her car shopping. It was more like early afternoon by the time he got free. From his expression when he picked her up, she knew it had been a rough morning. But rather than drop her off and go back to work, he insisted on sticking around for the negotiations and actually ended up helping her by playing the role of the skeptical, car-savvy boyfriend while a man in a bad suit tried to separate her from her money.
Now Mia whipped her beautiful new Jeep—new to her, at least—into a parking space as close to the lab entrance as she could manage. Aside from being royal blue instead of white, the Jeep was remarkably like the one she’d had before, and it had cost her every penny of her insurance check and then some. Still, she was elated to have transportation again and couldn’t wipe the grin off her face, even as she made a mad dash through the freezing drizzle to the Delphi Center entrance. She key-carded her way into the building and stood for a moment, shivering and dripping on the marble floor.
Ralph eyed her from across the lobby with disapproval.
“Hi.” She smiled at the armed guard whose presence there had helped her convince Ric that the lab, with its many layers of security, was a safer place for her to spend the afternoon than either of their homes.
“Wet out there,” she said brightly, although Ralph had never been much of a talker. She combed her fingers through her damp hair and tried another smile. “I saw Kelsey Quinn’s car outside. She downstairs, do you know?”
A silent nod sent Mia on a detour to the Bones Unit before heading up to the DNA lab, where she intended to spend the remainder of her afternoon catching up on the evidence that had stacked up that week.
She found Kelsey at a stainless-steel table, bent over a charred pile of bones.
“Fire victim?” Mia asked.
Kelsey looked at her curiously. “What are you doing here? I heard you were under some kind of house arrest.”
Mia laughed. “Who told you that?”
“You’re the hot topic around here these days.” Kelsey put down her forceps and reached for a can of diet soda sitting on the counter behind her. “What brings you down here? Not that I’m not happy to see you. I’m getting ready to send you a tooth for DNA analysis.” She nodded at the blackened remains. “We need a positive ID on this burn victim.”
“Homicide?”
“Probably, judging by the bullet hole in his temple. Most suicides don’t set the house on fire around them before they pull the trigger.” She leaned back against the counter, seeming ready for a break. “So, what’s up?”
“I wanted to thank you for identifying the Jane Doe from Lake Buchanan. I thought she’d been forgotten.”
Kelsey shrugged as if it was no big deal, but Mia knew better. Kelsey took seriously her duty to bring closure to victims’ families whenever possible.
“I rattled a few cages, that’s all. Turned up a couple of missing persons whose families had never sent in a DNA sample for ID purposes. One of those panned out.”
Mia nodded. “Was she young, like you thought?”
“Twenty-two,” Kelsey said, and there was sadness in her voice. “She’d been working as an escort only a few months when her mother lost track of her. Mark used mitochondrial DNA to make the ID.”
Mitochondrial DNA came in handy because it was much more plentiful within the cell, meaning that it could be recovered more easily than nuclear DNA. It could be found in bone and hair, too, and Kelsey resorted to it frequently to identify remains that lacked soft tissue. Unlike nuclear DNA, mtDNA was inherited only from the mother’s side. It passed unchanged down the maternal line, so sons and daughters had the same mtDNA as their mothers, maternal grandmothers, maternal great-grandmothers, and so on. In missing-persons cases, maternal relatives were often called on to provide samples to help ID remains.
“You went above and beyond,” Mia said. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
“Mark did most of the work. I just made the phone calls, tracked down the sample.”
“Well, thank you. And Ric thanks you, too. I know you’ve helped their case.”
Kelsey got a glint in her eye. “How is Ric, anyway?”
She must have read the look on Mia’s face, because she smiled knowingly.
“He’s fine,” Mia said. “Good, in fact.” Nerves flitted in her stomach. Maybe she was being stupidly optimistic. But it felt different this time, and she deeply hoped that she wasn’t about to get her heart crushed.
Mia needed to go before Kelsey asked her any more insightful questions. “Anyway, just wanted to say thanks.” She checked her watch. “I’d better hit it before the afternoon gets away from me.”
“Don’t work too hard.”
“Same to you.”
The words were empty on both of their parts, and Mia was already drumming up more to-dos for herself as she headed back to the DNA lab. Kelsey had sparked an idea, and Mia wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until she checked into it.
She veered away from the elevator and headed for the evidence room, where a clerk was supposed to be posted until five that evening. She inquired about the garbage bags that had be
en brought in earlier in the week. The sour expression on the woman’s face told Mia that they were still kicking around, probably more fragrant than ever. She led Mia to a separate cool storage room lined with plastic trash bags. Even the brisk temperature didn’t keep the fumes from nearly knocking her over the instant the door was open.
“All of this is scheduled to be hauled off next Tuesday,” the clerk said. She stayed as far away from the door as she could while Mia took a brave step inside. “If you need anything from here, better get it now.”
Mia poked through the bags and examined labels until she found the batch Ric and Jonah had brought in. They had collected everything they needed from it— about half a dozen items that had been analyzed by Mark already.
Mia spent a good twenty minutes sifting through garbage before she found what she wanted. Her thighs burned from crouching, and she was nearly faint from the stench as she lifted a cardboard coffee cup in her latex-gloved hand. She examined the lipstick mark. She examined the name scrawled on the side with black wax pencil.
“Well, now, Camille, let’s see if you can tell me what your son’s been up to.”
Ric cursed his partner as he sailed through another yellow stoplight. Why didn’t he pick up? He waited through a couple of rings, then got kicked to voice mail and hit redial.
Something was about to break. Ric could feel it. Or maybe it was him—he was about to break. Fifteen years on the job, and he’d finally hit his limit of stress, setbacks, and political bullshit.
“Macon here.”
“You wanna answer your phone once in a while? Shit, I’ve left two messages. What happened at the firing range?”
“I haven’t gone yet.”
Ric gritted his teeth. “I thought you were heading over there at two.”
“Got sidetracked on something for Singh. Anyway, I’m on my way now. I’ll let you know. You get anything more on that brass?” Jonah asked. Rey had some other database up his sleeve, and he’d promised to see if they could get any more hits off the shell casings recovered from the shooting scenes.
Unforgivable Page 27
