Edge Of Midnight (The Mccloud Series Book 4)

by Shannon McKenna

  “Ah, yes,” she murmued. “Right here. While Vadim Zhoglo and Daddy Novak with their testicle tongs comb the globe for my prickly hostess. Really safe, Sean.”

  His muscles jerked under her hand. “It’s the best place I know of.”

  “If you don’t want me to participate, I’ll just take my chances with the police. I’m sure they’ll be interested to know what we’ve been doing.”

  He rounded on her with violent swiftness. “You can’t tell them what we did today. Not unless you want to read about Ivers and the Trung family in the obit pages. I promised them.”

  “OK,” she said quietly. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go with you. I helped you today. And I could help again.”

  “Oh, you helped. You fulfilled one of my fantasies. The Endicotts’ perfect china doll daughter, on her knees. Sucking my dick.”

  She flinched, hurt clouding her mind, but something behind it whispered to her in a constant, steadying stream. Reminding her of the look in his eyes when he made love to her. The diamond in her ear. Intimacy like she’d never imagined it. He could throw up all the smoke screens he wanted, and she would see right through them.

  “You can be as nasty and ugly as you like.” Her voice was small, but steady. “I won’t fall for it. Not a second time.”

  “Oh no?”

  “No. You’re in my head. You can’t lie to me. I know you, Sean.”

  “You think so?” He backed her up to the wall. She stumbled as her high heels caught in the weave of the rug. Her back hit the wall.

  “You think you know me?” His voice was a hiss of menace. “You have no idea of the shit I’ve done, the men I’ve killed, the women I’ve screwed, the things I’ve been paid to do. I fucked your brains out, so you think that means you know me? I’ve fucked a lot of girls’ brains out. They’d run screaming if they knew me.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not working. All I hear is blah di dah. Sean’s having a tantrum. Freaking out because he can’t get his way.”

  He shook his head, unbelieving. “Can’t get my way,” he repeated. “What are you going to do, Liv? Give me a lollipop to shut me up?”

  “That’s what Tam suggested,” she said.

  “The day you take Tam’s advice will be a scary day for you, babe.”

  “I’m getting used to scary days. They’re the new norm.” She grabbed her skirt, and tugged it up, high enough to see her nakedness. The puff of hair between her thighs. “Want a lollipop, Sean?”

  Sean stared at her body. His hand reached out, as if of its own volition, cupping her. His finger pressed against the damp, hot seam hidden in the silky curls. “Might work,” he said hoarsely, fingers curling to grip her mound. “But don’t jerk me around. My sense of humor’s gone AWOL.”

  “Then don’t set yourself up for it,” she retorted. “Silly jerk.”

  The liquid rush of her arousal moistened his hand. His growl vibrated through her body as he thrust his fingers inside her. “Fine, babe.” His breath was hot against her throat as he wrenched open his jeans and hoisted her against the wall. “Don’t come crying to me if you don’t like it. You begged for it. You drove me to it.”

  “I’ll beg. I’ll do what I have to do. Take what I have to take.”

  He drove inside. She knew that some part of him wanted to punish her, but his body wouldn’t let him. They were too attuned to each other, every clutch and stroke, every thrill of pleasure. He couldn’t make good on his foolish threats. He could do nothing but pleasure her. She wrapped her arms around him.

  Hell and heaven broke loose together.

  She clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders. The jolting rhythm might have seemed violent if it hadn’t been precisely what her body craved, to drive her to that magic place where boundaries melted, where lies became meaningless. She felt his need, his desperation, his fear. She wanted to soothe him, heal him, but all she could do was cling to him, offer up all her yielding sweetness.

  His climax wrenched through him. She could not distinguish his pleasure from her own. It melted her down. She knew the second Sean registered her weeping, and the next second, when he misinterpreted it.

  He pulled out, stepped away. She slid down the wall and thudded onto her bottom, stockinged legs splayed wide. She curled her legs up.

  It shattered her, how huge this feeling was. How small she felt in its grip. How completely her happiness hung on the thinnest of threads.

  He tilted her face up. “When I get these guys, and rip their guts out, you’ll be free to leave. Until then, you stay where I put you. Nod if you understand me.”

  She nodded. He got to his feet, and headed for the door.

  “I’m not a ch-china doll, Sean,” she forced out, voice shaking.

  He paused. “That doesn’t mean you’re not breakable.”

  The door closed. His footsteps faded down the stairs.

  Chapter 23

  “Run it all by me one more time,” Sean said, tapping his fingers against the armrest console in a frantic staccato rhythm. “Pay attention. Don’t make me repeat myself like a fucking idiot,” Davy growled. “And stop the finger drumming thing. Drives me nuts.”

  “He had a fight with his girlfriend,” Miles said laconically.

  “He must have gone without sex for more than twelve hours,” Con said. “Didn’t she take Tam’s advice and show you her muff last night?”

  Sean’s hand shot out, fastened over Con’s throat, bonking his brother’s head back against the car window, hard. “Ow! Jesus, Sean!”

  “Talk about her like that, and I’ll break your bad leg. Again.”

  Con blinked, wide eyed. “You’d do that to a pathetic crip who spent the night driving all over Seattle looking for Erin’s goofy sister?”

  “Try me,” Sean said, pitiless.

  He took his hand away, ignoring as his brothers whistled and exchanged glances. He rubbed his sore neck, stiff from a night on a cheap motel mattress, to say nothing of the bruises and contusions.

  “Sorry,” Con said, sounding anything but. “It’s just a shock. You never minded me going off about your babe du jour before, so I—”

  “She’s not my babe du jour. I don’t want to discuss my woman problems. I want to talk about this investigation. If you don’t mind.”

  “Huh. You’re starting to sound like Dad. Humor-challenged.”

  “Bite your tongue,” Sean said. “Tell me about Charles Parrish.”

  Miles spoke up. “All I could find out last night was that he rose in the ranks of Flaxon Industries for a few years, then left and formed the Helix Group. Pharmaceuticals, biotechnology, nanotechnology, what have you.”

  “Corporate headquarters are in Olympia. We squeeze Beck, and then drive down there,” Davy said. “We have an appointment at noon.”

  “An appointment?” Sean was startled. “You silver-tongued son of a bitch. Who are we today? Zillionaires with scads of money to invest?”

  Davy grinned. “I’m the zillionaire. You guys are just henchmen. We have to pretty up after we go to Beck’s. I had Miles go to your condo and pick some pimp suits out of your closet for you guys.”

  “Which reminds me,” Miles piped up. “Somebody’s been through your place. They took your hard drive.”

  Davy swiveled back, glanced at him. “Did you have a password?”

  “Uh…yeah,” Sean said.

  Davy’s eyes narrowed at his tone. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. It was something stupid and obvious. Like Olivia, right?”

  Sean didn’t answer, abashed. Miles answered for him. “Right.”

  “Whatever. It’s the least of our worries right now,” Connor said.

  “Speaking of worries, who’s guarding the ladies?” Sean asked.

  “Seth’s on it,” Davy said. “He’s driving them all over Seattle today, and feeling very sorry for himself.”

  “They should be up at Stone Island,” Sean said, scowling.

  “Yeah, but Cindy’s run off, and Erin didn
’t want to leave town without her,” Con said. “Plus, Margot had to drop off a big proposal, and Raine had a meeting with the board of directors for Lazar.”

  “Here it is,” Davy said, pulling over on the posh, treelined avenue.

  They got out of the car, gazed at the house.

  “What a godawful eyesore,” Con commented.

  “Must have cost a shitload of money,” Davy said. “Who would have thought that academia was so profitable?”

  The uniformed Latina lady who answered the door gave them a suspicious frown. “Can I help you?”

  “We’d like to speak to Professor Beck,” Sean said.

  Her dark eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

  Davy opened his mouth to reply. Sean cut in, on impulse. “A ghost from his past,” he said. “Tell him that.”

  The door slammed. Davy and Con and Miles stared at him, open-mouthed. “That’s no way to get in the door,” Davy pointed out.

  Sean looked at the ornate, carved monstrosity of a door. “Oh, I’ll get in there,” he said softly. “If I have to shoot off the hinges.”

  Con gave him a quelling look. “It’s early in the day for you to be having one of your meltdowns. Keep it together.”

  The door opened just a crack, the security chain fastened across it, and the lady’s face peeked through. “I’m sorry, but the professor doesn’t have no interest in talking to ghosts. Have a good day.”

  “Step back from the door, ma’am,” Sean said.

  The whip crack in his voice sent her darting back. Sean spun around and flung up his leg in a vicious back kick that broke the chain and sent the door flying open to crash against the wall.

  The lady shrieked and cowered against the opposite wall. Davy and Con gave each other despairing glances, and followed him on in.

  “What is the meaning of this?” A portly, balding man appeared at the end of the foyer, his face red with fury.

  Sean walked towards him, arms out as if he were going to give the man a bear hug. “Hey, Professor. Remember me?”

  The man staggered back, put his hand to his throat. His face went an ashy gray. Sweat popped out on his brow. “How…who…”

  “What?” Sean put on a mock wounded expression. “Don’t you like visits from the Great Beyond? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  Beck made a choking sound. Put his hand to the wall for support.

  “Shut up, Sean,” Davy muttered. “We won’t learn anything if the guy croaks from fright.”

  Beck’s eyes darted back and forth between them. He sagged with relief. “Sean? Oh.”

  “Yes,” Sean said. “Kev’s identical twin. Kev’s very pissed off, very fed-up identical twin. Good to meet you, Beck.”

  “Professor, I call the police for you.” The Latina lady’s voice rang out. She clutched the phone in one hand, a fireplace poker in the other.

  Wow. That was one tough lady. Beck didn’t deserve her.

  He turned to Beck. “I suggest you stop her. Or I’ll be forced to tell them everything I know about the murder of Kevin McCloud, and the Midnight Project. And you will go down, Professor. In flames.”

  It was a wild gamble, but Sidney Beck’s eyes darted around. He moistened his trembling lips with his tongue. “Ah, don’t make that call, Emiliana. These gentlemen and I just need to have a talk.”

  She scowled, not buying it. “I call the police anyhow.”

  “No! I don’t want to waste the police department’s valuable time, and really, it’s fine. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? At double time and a half wages. My apology for the unpleasantness.”

  Emiliana muttered under her breath in Spanish, yanked open a wall closet, grabbed out a large patent leather purse and a sweater.

  She elbowed her way out between Miles and Con, not gently, and pulled the door shut behind her with a resounding slam.

  Beck crossed his arms across his chest, still blinking quickly. “So who’s been telling you lies about this so-called Midnight Project?”

  “Nobody,” Sean said quietly. “We didn’t have any proof at all that you were involved. Until now, that is. It was just a bluff. Worked, huh?”

  Beck blinked frantically.

  Sean took a step closer. “Let’s cut right to it. Tell us everything.”

  “About, ah, what?” Beck sidled back against the wall.

  Davy blocked him. “Kev, the Midnight Project, the Colfax Building, drug experiments. Flaxon. Charles Parrish. Helix. Missing college kids. Body bags.”

  Beck shook his head. “I don’t know. About any of it. I swear.”

  “No? Then why didn’t you let Emiliana call the cops?” Sean leaned closer and sniffed, smelling fresh alcohol on the man’s breath. “You’ve been at the hard stuff, bright and early. Trying to calm the demons?”

  Beck’s eyes watered. “I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about. Please, keep your distance.”

  Thud, rattle, the letter slot emitted a slice of sunlight. A wad of envelopes was shoved through. They scattered around Miles’s feet. Miles picked up a handful of envelopes, sorted through them. “You guys.” His voice vibrated with excitement. “This is from the Helix Group.”

  Davy twitched it out of Miles’s hand and ripped it open.

  “Hey! That’s my private correspondence!” Beck squawked.

  Davy leafed through the papers. “From a guy who knows nothing about Helix, you own a lot of stock in it.”

  “My financial affairs are none of your business!” Beck blustered.

  “Is that where you got the money? From Helix?” Con wandered down the corridor, peering into the next room. “Wow. Check out this solarium, guys. That’s a thirty-foot plate glass window. Pricey.”

  “Yeah. How about that money? We’re curious, Beck,” Sean said. “Do you have family money? Or is this Helix money?”

  “Helix has nothing to do with your brother.” Beck’s voice shook. “Helix has only existed for ten years, and it’s only become a prominent player in the last eight. Poor Kevin has been gone for, how long now?”

  “Fifteen years, five days and approximately six hours,” Sean said.

  Beck’s mouth worked. “Ah. Just so. I’m very sorry for your loss, Mr. McCloud, but I think that you should be talking to a qualified psychotherapist about these issues, not to me. I’m sorry I can’t help—”

  “Where did the money come from, Beck?” Connor repeated. He strolled back from the solarium. “This is a five million dollar home.”

  “I hardly think that is an appropriate—mmph!”

  Sean gripped the guy’s throat, shoving him against the wall. Not hard enough to throttle him, but hard enough to shut him up.

  “Appropriate?” he hissed. “Nah. Hit men, secret drug experiments, bloated, self-interested slugs sitting on top of piles of money, my twin brother’s charred body—things like that make me mad. So talk to us. Give us names, dates, addresses. Or else…” He squeezed, and Beck let out a strangled squeak. “I move on. To Plan B.”

  Beck’s mouth worked, soundlessly. Sean eased up. “That better?”

  Beck coughed. Tears leaked out of his eyes. “I just know…a name. It might not even be his real name. And it may have nothing to do with this.”

  “Spit it out, Beck.”

  “I gave his number to Kevin,” Beck babbled. “He needed intelligent research subjects. There was a fee involved. I knew Kevin needed cash, so I passed on the name. That’s all. I swear, that’s all I ever did.”

  “Except for keeping your mouth shut when people started dying?” Sean snarled. “Except for raking in the dough for decades afterwards? You’re nothing but a turd with arms and legs, Beck. You make me sick.”

  “The name, Beck,” Connor reminded him.

  Beck started to sob. “O-O-Osterman,” he stammered.

  “Where does he operate?” Davy asked.

  Beck shook his head in frantic denial. “As God is my witness, I have no idea. It’s been fifteen years since I spoke to him, and I—”
/>
  “Bullshit. You talked to him the day before yesterday, to sic a hit man on my wife’s sister. Give us the number you called,” Con said.

  Beck kept shaking his head. His body shook with sobs. A puddle of urine pooled around one of his shoes on the gleaming blond parquet.

  Sean sighed, and dropped him. The guy fell to the floor with a heavy plop, like an overripe fruit. He wept noisily, covering his face.

  “This one’s played out,” Sean said wearily. “Let’s go.”

  Davy got the SUV in gear and accelerated away from that place.

  “Christ, that was depressing,” Connor muttered.

  Davy shot a furious glance back at Sean. “You pushed him too hard. You need to use a lighter touch. Unless you’re practicing up for when you get tossed into a maximum security prison, of course.”

  Sean was too lost in thought to respond. “Drunk off his ass, at nine AM,” he mused. “He smelled like fear. I scared him bad, but he still held back. Which means that this Osterman guy scares him worse.”

  Miles swiveled around, his eyes big. “What was Plan B?”

  Sean looked at him blankly. “Huh?”

  “You told Beck that if he didn’t give you a name, you were moving on to Plan B. What were you going to do to him?”

  Sean grimaced. Hard-core intimidation was tense, nasty work. He didn’t really have the stomach for it. “Fucked if I know,” he grumbled. “I don’t even have a Plan A, let alone B. Let’s get gussied up for Parrish.”

  Cindy gulped her coffee, and tried again to plow through an article about general plane wave solutions to sound wave equations in Sound Spectrum Journal, an egghead rag if she’d ever saw one. She’d even bought some intellectual horn-rimmed glasses, but she longed for a Marie Claire. An article on the cover had caught her eye. When He Just Can’t Forgive: Real Life Stories of Women Who Commited the Unforgivable Sin. Hah. Bet those real life women had nothing on her.

  She was nervous, scared, and buzzed out of her mind on caffeine, but if she bagged now, she’d ruin all of Miles’s careful social engineering for nothing. This stunt might be monstrously stupid, but she wanted it to count for something. Especially if she was risking her life.