“Of course not. Now you’re being ridiculous. What with Kiya, you’d’ve picked up on that in a heartbeat. As for Drummond, I knew you didn’t want him discovering how you were finding and rescuing the girls. Do you think I’d betray that trust?”
“I don’t know what to believe. So how exactly did this work with Harry?”
“We just kept in touch by either phone or text, a few emails now and then, made sure you were okay. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Except for it being on the sly this whole time, right? You’ve always had a thing about privacy, always been secretive. But there are times like this, I don’t think I know you at all, Travis.”
Still steaming from what Travis had admitted, a couple of hours later, she pulled her Subaru into the resident parking garage located under Josh’s loft. She came to a stop next to the space where he usually parked his Fusion. As she gathered up her things, her laptop, gym bag, and cell phone, she had to admit she still wasn’t completely comfortable at the fashionable address.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the snooty lobby decorated in its French provincial furniture, or the expensive bric-a-brac that sat under the fancy crown molding. She couldn’t believe she shared space and a bed with a guy who owned such upscale digs.
As she made her way to the elevator, she passed a gold-plated commemorative plaque reminding her, once again, that the structure had been built in 1909 and had historic significance.
She shook her head. Maybe this was one more indication she was so out of her element.
Once the elevator reached street level, she popped across the lobby to another elevator that would take her up to the penthouse suite on the eighth floor. She slid her card key into the slot to get it moving. Even though she and Josh had talked about getting a place in the country, a place of their own, they had yet to contact a realtor to look for one.
There were reasons for that, she supposed, other than her dragging her feet. Josh had been trying to catch up with his duties at Ander All Games while Skye had the foundation to get up and running. So far the busy summer had been to blame. There’d been no time for Sunday drives in the country looking at houses with realtors. At least that’s the excuse she’d used.
Once the elevator door slid open, she walked into the airy loft. The one thing she couldn’t complain about was how much light the place got. This place made her studio look like a hole down in a dungeon. If she ever decided to move in here for real, her plants would more than likely thrive from all the sunshine.
A wall of windows took up the west side of the living room with a high-rise view of the harbor. It was a spectacular place to sit and watch a sunset. The opposite wall held what she termed Josh’s private stash of electronic gadgets and equipment. It included a state-of-the-art stereo system and one of the biggest flat-screen TVs she’d ever plopped down in front of on movie night.
Skye looked over at the Aubusson rug, just one of several scattered over the hardwood flooring, and realized once again, why she might feel out of place here. It wasn’t simply the masculine décor, Josh’s brown leather sofa, or the matching plush, cushiony side chair, it was pretty much the entire place.
She threw her stuff down on the hall table so she could sort through the stack of mail she’d picked up from her own apartment. Going back and forth between addresses had its downsides. One of them was remembering to deal with the never-ending postal drivel that always seemed to clog up her box. After discarding all the advertisements in the wastebasket, her eyes zeroed in on a plain white envelope, hand-addressed to The Artemis Foundation but using Skye’s home address, which not everyone had.
She ripped into the paper and unfolded the letter inside.
Skye breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized the familiar writing. Erin Prescott, one of the girls she’d rescued from a brutal kidnapper and rapist, had written her an update of sorts along with another three-page thank-you.
A grin spread across her face at the news. Erin, it seems, had been improving, attending her therapy sessions regularly. The teen was doing so well that she would start a new school in the fall as a junior. There would be no long drawn-out trial to endure, no testifying to the intimate details of her attack and capture, since the sexual predator, Brandon Hiller, had copped a plea deal. Hiller had already been sent back to Clallam Bay where he was serving a life sentence with no possibility of parole.
But as Skye read Erin’s words of hope and praise, tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She swiped at her face with her fingers.
Didn’t Travis and Harry understand that kids like Erin were the reason she had to go out every night? Didn’t the reward of saving one child outweigh the dangers and the risks she might encounter out on the streets?
Feeling a sense of pride, Skye sauntered off to the kitchen to put on the roast she’d picked up at the marketplace. She decided there was no better time to open up a new bottle of chardonnay than tonight at dinner to celebrate Erin’s successful road to recovery.
Walking through the swinging door to the huge gourmet kitchen brought a smile to her lips. While the rest of Josh’s impressive loft might intimidate her, she felt completely at home in this room. She couldn’t help it. She appreciated each of the shiny stainless steel appliances so much more than Josh did. Much like the living area, this room got tons of natural light thanks to an overhead skylight. Not only was it larger than the size of her entire studio apartment, she thought she might be in love with all the rich, oaken cabinets.
She set her bag down on the sleek marble countertop and started putting away the groceries in the walk-in pantry. Craving a cup of coffee, she took out beans and poured them into the grinder. As soon as she got the state-of-the-art espresso machine going, she turned on the oven to pre-heat. This, she had to admit was where she felt the most relaxed and content, a domestic scene she relished. Whether it was here or in her apartment she realized cooking, preparing a meal, gave her a degree of pleasure. And lately making dinner for the man she loved was what made her the happiest.
Josh tossed his keys in the catch-all bowl on the entryway table and sniffed the air. Skye had to be cooking up her now infamous pot roast with the little red potatoes and baby carrots. He wasn’t much of a veggie eater these days. But he had to admit there were some meals that just begged a full range of the four food groups. Skye’s slow-roasted brisket qualified. He hoped she’d baked some of her yeast rolls to go with the gravy.
Once he pushed open the kitchen door, however, the desire for food headed south. Literally. He sucked in a breath as his own hunger ramped up at the sight. There she stood at the kitchen counter wearing a navy tank top, a pair of low-riding, hip-hugging white shorts, her butt wiggling in rhythm to the sound of Dave Grohl’s voice as he remembered Aurora.
Josh cocked his head to study the way her ponytail swayed to the beat, the way her bare feet kept time to the music.
By the time Skye heard footsteps and heels coming from behind her as they crossed over on the slate flooring, she realized she wasn’t alone. Startled, she pivoted, led with an elbow and stopped just in time when she noticed who it was. The arm that had swooped out relaxed in an instant. She blew out a breath. “You know better than to sneak up on me like that. Is it too much to ask for a, ‘hey honey, I’m home’ from you so I won’t belt you next time?”
Josh grinned in response. “Like you could hear me or anything else over the Chili Peppers.” He reached over to turn the dial down a notch on her docking station. The music shifted to Mozart and a soft piano concerto.
Skye studied the man who looked exactly like what he was. A man who’d had a run of good luck with code and 3-D graphics. A few strands of loose black hair draped down his forehead while the longer length fell to his shoulders. His piercing gray eyes, almost silver in color, held just a hint of both mischief and haughty. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”
“Meeting broke up early. Besides, since we didn’t get a chance to have lunch together
, I figure taking off a half hour early, who’s gonna mind? I own the store.” He nipped her neatly around the waist and lifted her up off the floor. In one deft move, he plopped her butt back down on the counter to face him. “So you think you can take me, huh?”
“I used to be able to,” she groused as she looped her arms around his neck.
“Then I guess you’d better show me whatcha got,” Josh said in challenge as he settled in between her legs. Nibbling at one corner of her mouth then the other, his hands came around to the front of the tank top. His long fingers slid neatly under the fabric to finger a ripe nipple.
The need to mate gnawed at the fringes. As his mouth covered hers, he picked her up and together they eased down to the kitchen floor.
While they moved, they began to undress each other. She unbuttoned his shirt, ripped it back and off. But as he turned, she caught sight of the tattoo Josh now sported on his left shoulder. A grin spread across her face. A silver wolf with blue eyes matched the one she had on the right side of her upper back, albeit.
When he saw her mouth curve up, her dimples take shape, he simply tugged up her Tee, pulled it over her head. “What are you grinning at? I’ve been waiting for this all day. I bet I can give you something to smile about.”
“I love you. I’m entitled to smile before I show you.”
“Mmm, I love to see your smile. You don’t do it often enough.” Josh rolled to his back, leaving Skye to straddle him. While hands tore at the rest of their clothes, while they shifted to remove shorts and pants, they couldn’t get at each other fast enough. Fierce took over reason. Lips and tongue skimmed lightly along each other’s skin.
He brought her head down, kissed the corners of her mouth gently before moving on to nip at an earlobe. He feasted along her neck, moved to flick his tongue back and forth over rose-tipped, pebbled points. Lifting her body farther up to his mouth, he went after her belly and then lingered downward.
Moist. Hot. The orgasm rocked through her.
She responded by taking hold of his head, dragging her fingers through his mass of long hair, untangling the strands as she went. Thrilled at the way he explored every fold, every tender part of flesh, she wanted him.
“Now,” Skye breathed out. “Inside me, now!” With that, she reached down to make that happen.
Bodies slicked. They found an easy pace for mating, strong and fast, hard and mellow. While the sonata soared, joy and delight flitted in and out. An explosion of dazzling colors brought them both up and over the peak of velvet greens then fell, blissfully into silky blues.
They glided along, diving into deep water, each riding the wave through the swell. Clinging to each other, they faded into the peaceful afterglow. While that pleasure took hold it was enough to lead them to the brink of what they’d never known before, the oneness, unique only to them.
Still coupled, breathing hard, they stayed locked together on the floor. Josh leaned up to Skye’s ear and whispered, “I love you. Marry me, Skye.”
But as he watched her eyes go big right before she literally rolled off him to start gathering up her shorts and top—without giving him an answer—his temper flared. He watched as she took a step backward figuratively, away from him. She wasn’t exactly jumping with joy at the prospect of becoming his bride. Instead of sniping at her about it though, he grabbed his shirt and pants in a snit and started to storm out of the kitchen.
“Josh…” Skye finally managed.
But her comeback died a quick death when Josh’s cell phone sang out. The ringing broke what was now awkward silence between them.
Josh stared at the phone he’d set down on the marble countertop. He was reluctant to talk to anyone right at this moment. Would she ever completely trust and commit to him? He was beginning to wonder. While he pondered that question, he snatched up his cell and saw the caller was Brad Jones, the detective working on Annabelle’s homicide case. What lousy timing, Josh thought as he gave Skye a go-to-hell look, and hit the screen to accept the call.
“Yeah,” Josh said into the receiver, clearly not in a good frame of mind.
“I’m glad I caught you, Mr. Ander,” Brad began. “I wanted to let you know the district attorney was notified this afternoon that the judge ordered Michelle Reardon to undergo further evaluation.”
“Goddamn it!” Josh railed into the phone. “So Michelle kills Annabelle and gets a pass to a psychiatric ward? That isn’t right.”
“I knew you’d be upset, that’s why I wanted you to hear it from me,” Brad detailed. “It seems Michele has been putting on quite a crazy act in her cell.”
“Like what kind of act?”
“Talking to herself mostly while she rocks back and forth. Then she pulls her own hair out, so much of it that they had to cut it off. You wouldn’t recognize the woman you once knew.”
“Believe me, I wished I’d never laid eyes on her. But I told all of you that Michelle was a clever con artist. There’s not a thing wrong with her mental state except for the fact that she’s manipulative. She played Annabelle. She played me. Did you even bother to delve into her past, to see if she’s ever done this kind of thing before? Michele knew exactly what she was doing when she filled that syringe with succinylcholine. She had to know since she used to work as a nurse. And now…”
“Calm down, Mr. Ander. As of this afternoon Reardon’s being shipped off to the Laurel Lake Facility in Kirkland where she’ll be under lock and key for at least three months. There isn’t a thing I can do about it. The judge has already made his ruling. They’ll evaluate her to see if she’s sane enough to stand trial.”
“She’s sane enough now,” Josh pointed out, clearly agitated by the turn of events. “And now she’s simply scheming to pull a stint in a mental hospital instead of prison.”
“For what it’s worth, I happen to agree with you.”
“And then what? What happens after this evaluation period?”
“After the ninety-days are up, the judge will go over the recommendations by the staff psychiatrists, make another ruling. Let’s hope the doctors will come to the same conclusion that we have. Michelle Reardon murdered your wife in cold blood so she could make her move on you. That after planning it for months, Michelle used her considerable knowledge of lethal drugs to kill Annabelle Ander and she should be held accountable for her actions.”
Josh rubbed at his forehead where a headache had already kicked in. “Yeah, that all sounds fine and good but I guess now all we have is the hope that Michele doesn’t get away with it.”
Chapter Four
For the rest of the evening the tension between Josh and Skye grew worse with each ticking of the clock. By nine that night, when it was time for Skye to make her rounds, the two of them were pretty much ready to part company for a few hours.
They hadn’t said a word to each other since they’d finished dinner. So when he heard the sound of the elevator door clanging shut, he grimaced.
Would things between them ever be normal? How many nights had he heard that ding and hoped like hell the woman he loved would be okay going out at night into Seattle’s mean streets without him?
Since the transformation he might be ten percent wolf but that meant ninety percent of him still required sleep to function. Tonight, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Skye leaving the house every night without him. And right this moment, he wasn’t even certain he had a right to worry about her. Did she even want him to?
Hell, who was he kidding? He’d never stop stressing about her during those hours between nine at night and three or four in the morning. He could never quite settle until she crawled into bed beside him after her “rounds” were done, after she’d exhausted the notion that there were kids out there she could find and rescue.
It helped somewhat knowing Kiya, the silver wolf with the deep blue eyes, they now shared, accompanied Skye into the streets. It was true the wolf protected her, was with her every step Skye took down alleys and dark unlit walkways.
Bu
t just because Josh was connected to Skye’s spirit guide now, didn’t mean he wouldn’t have preferred to be out there with both of them. While woman and wolf patrolled, searched, and hunted, he hadn’t yet figured out a way to run his company during normal business hours and put in another six at night with Skye.
So he bided his time on his own at night—while she went out with her wolf in search of—whatever it was Skye needed to hunt. Be it predator or a child in trouble, for Skye he knew she felt compelled to go out. Period. But understanding and knowing Skye had to go out every night didn’t solve their problems. Not by a longshot.
Josh understood the evil out there. He did. Since he’d seen it firsthand in his own dark, disturbing dreams, he knew what it smelled like, what it looked like, what it felt like. But there were nights when all he managed to do was torture himself with the anxiety of knowing she was out there. While at the same time he’d get a minimum amount of shuteye to function during the day. He wasn’t sure he could keep doing this night after night.
And did he have to keep working on her every single day to get her to trust and commit to a long-term relationship with him? Did he want to work that hard at getting her to talk about it? Marriage. The woman couldn’t even bring herself to say the word.
Frustrated, disgruntled about the whole thing, he had to get his mind to focus on something else. Opening his laptop, he logged on to try to get a little work done. He wrote and sent a few emails, but after forty-five minutes or so of effort, he just couldn’t concentrate. So he logged off, snapped the lid closed harder than he meant to do.
One glance at the clock got him even edgier. Goddamn it, why hadn’t he gone with her? Something was off. It felt…wrong for Skye to be alone right now.
Skye Cree 02: The Bones Will Tell Page 4
