Trust Me (The Donovan Family Book 4)

by Margaret Watson

  "Okay. Good." Maybe he was a fool to believe her. But as he studied her, he saw no deception in her expression. "You said you had some things you wanted to talk about, too."

  "I was going to tell you that you were right. I'm not strong enough to take Peter down in a physical fight. I have to be smarter about it. And you gave me a way to be smarter."

  "You were going to tell me I was right?" Heat rose in his face and he clenched his teeth. He should God damn walk away right now. "All that bullshit about you doing it yourself was just manipulation?"

  Her smile fell away. "No. I meant every word. I wasn't manipulating you. Connor, I need to help. I owe it to my sister. And if you don't let me, I will do it myself."

  Her eyes weren't lying. She was telling him the truth – she was prepared to do whatever was necessary. She wouldn't turn the responsibility over to him or anyone else.

  He closed his eyes and tried to banish the frustration. Opened them to find her watching him. "Let's go and figure out how to work together on this."

  She put her hand on his arm, and every muscle tensed. He wanted to touch her, to feel the softness of her skin, the strength in her body. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him.

  He wanted to keep her safe.

  He must have frozen, because she squeezed his arm. "I won't go near him, Connor. I promise."

  "Okay." He eased away from her touch. It must be making his brain soft, because he believed her. "Let's go."

  She took a step forward and stumbled on the clump of dandelions she'd been so fascinated by. Their seeds lifted into the air as she fell forward. Into him.

  He instinctively closed his arms around her. Only to steady her, he assured himself. He'd let her go as soon as she regained her balance.

  Instead of stepping away, she sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist. Rested her head against his chest.

  "I don't want to need help, Connor." She spoke into his shirt, and he could barely hear her. "I don't want to rely on anyone. But...but I guess I'm okay with relying on you."

  The last barrier he'd erected against Raine began to crumble. The falling sensation was scary as hell. So he pressed a palm against her forehead, warm from the sun and smooth as satin. "You running a fever? You sick?"

  She batted his hand away. "Don't be a jerk, Donovan." She didn't move away from him, though.

  He smoothed his hand up and down her spine, trying to tell her without words that he'd have her back. That they'd make Northrup pay. That they'd get him eventually.

  Drawing a deep breath, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Using your head instead of your muscles doesn't make you weak, Raine. It makes you smart. You're the strongest woman I know. And I don't mean physically. I don't know anyone who has more courage, more resolve, more guts than you."

  She lifted her head, her eyes drenched in sadness. "Doesn't feel that way. Feels like I'm chickening out. Abandoning Genie."

  He twined one hand with hers and pressed it against her cheek. For such a strong woman, her hands were fragile. Slender, with bones as thin as a bird's. "What do you want the most?" he asked. "Do you want to beat Peter physically? Punish him with your hands and your feet? Or do you want to see him rot in prison for the rest of his life?"

  She sighed. "I want him locked up. In a cage. For a long, long time." Her hand flexed in his. "But kicking the crap out of him would have given me a lot of satisfaction."

  "Yeah, I know." He smoothed his hand over her hair. "How about we let his future roommate Bubba take care of that for you? Can you live with that?"

  She nodded slowly, letting go of his hand and clutching his shirt, as if she wanted to keep him close. "I can live with that."

  He still wasn't sure they could work together. But he needed to give it a try.

  He needed to protect her.

  Chapter 17

  When they'd arrived at the park, Raine hadn't waited for him to walk toward the pond. Now, heading back to the car, she walked beside him. A small thing, but he'd take it. Progress.

  She stumbled again, even though there was nothing in front of her, and lurched into him. He steadied her with an arm around her waist, and he felt her muscles trembling beneath his hand. As if it was taking every ounce of effort for her to remain upright.

  Of course it was. She'd been beaten yesterday. She'd gone to work and taught all day. Coached her team after school.

  And he'd just put her through an emotional wringer.

  He glanced down at her. All color had leached from her face, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes turned them a muddy brown.

  He tightened his grip on her waist. "Let's put off our strategy session until tomorrow or the next day. You should go right to bed. You're exhausted."

  Her muscles tensed beneath his hand, and she straightened her spine. Glared at him.

  "Not that I'm telling you what to do." He raised the hand not tucked around her. "Especially since I'm not wearing my steel-plated sports cup."

  Her shoulders relaxed and her mouth curled into a tiny smile. "I wouldn't kick you in the family jewels." Her gaze touched him then bounced away. "I might want to play with them sometime."

  Holy shit. He tightened his grip on her. An hour ago, he was sure she wouldn't want anything to do with him, ever again. Fifteen minutes ago, he'd been ready to walk away. Now she was flirting with him. Implying...Yeah. He hadn't been expecting that.

  Parts of him were very happy to get that update.

  He cleared his throat. Eased his grip when he realized his fingers were digging into her side. "Anytime. Be my guest."

  Her smile lingered until they reached the car. After lowering herself slowly and carefully into the passenger side, she rested her head against the seat. The sunlight highlighted the purple and green bruise around her eye and the weary lines on her face.

  He wanted to hear more about her plans for him.

  He was a jerk.

  As he started the car, she said, "Are you hungry?" The low, ragged growl of her voice was sexy as hell. "I'm starving. Why don't we pick up a pizza and take it back to my place? Eat it while we talk about...about Genie?"

  He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. Not the time to be staring at the cleavage exposed by the vee of her shirt. "Yeah. We can do that."

  She fumbled in her bag, finally pulling out a phone. "There's a good place near my apartment. Cheese, pepperoni and anchovies?"

  "No on the oily little fish. Mushrooms instead?"

  "Eww. Black olives?"

  "You drive a hard bargain. But olives are good."

  "Okay." She pushed an icon on her phone and ordered the pizza, then slid the phone back into her bag. "Twenty minutes." She hummed beneath her breath, leaned against the seat and her eyelids fluttered closed. A tiny smile lingered on her mouth.

  The purple shadow beneath her uninjured eye was almost as dark as the bruise. He glanced in the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of the file folder on the back seat. Genie Northrup's murder book.

  Tomorrow was soon enough to talk about that. Tonight, after they ate, he'd sweet-talk her into bed.

  His body reacted immediately.

  Not that way.

  He rolled to a stop at a red light. Raine was slouched in the seat, her white shirt snugged against her chest. The blue of her bra was visible through the thin material of her shirt. So was a faint pattern of lace.

  He stared at her lips, still turned up at the corners. He wanted to taste her mouth. Feel it curve against his. Hear the low, husky sound of her laugh vibrate against his lips.

  He wanted to drag that humming sound out of her again, when they were somewhere more private and wearing far less clothing.

  "Hey," she said, her voice soft. "The light's green. Where has your mind gone?"

  He stepped on the gas too hard and his car shot into the intersection.

  He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the steering wheel and dragged his attention back to the street in
front of him.

  Damn it. He tapped the brakes to slow down. Eyes forward. Focus. Pick up pizza. Let Raine get some sleep.

  It would be all business tonight.

  His left foot jiggled on the floor. Who was he kidding?

  It hadn't been business with Raine from the moment he'd seen her running away from Northrup's house.

  It hadn't been business when he'd picked up the hoodie she'd left on the ground.

  And it definitely hadn't been business when he'd fucked her against the tree that night.

  ***

  The scent of tomato sauce and spicy pepperoni filled the car as Connor parked in front of her apartment twenty minutes later. Raine's eyes were closed, and the pizza box tilted on her lap. As if she'd fallen asleep.

  He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to take the pizza and help still-unmoving Raine out of the car. As he grabbed the door handle, the gate to her courtyard clinked shut.

  He glanced toward it and saw a guy in cheap khakis and a denim work shirt walking toward the buildings. The tall man carried a large red tool box in his left hand. The name on the back of his shirt was too small to read. A red ball cap covered his hair.

  As Connor watched him, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something about the guy tugged at his memory. Made him twitchy.

  Cheap Khakis reached the middle entrance to the building and walked inside. As the door closed, he reached for something on the wall. Moments later, he opened the inside door and disappeared.

  The twitchiness buzzed in his head, searching for a memory. A connection.

  Wasn't there.

  Connor glanced around for a truck and spotted a white van several cars down. He pulled his notebook out of his pocket and jotted down the license plate. A small sign on the side of the truck said 'Michael's Plumbing. Twenty-four hour service.' The last line of the sign was a phone number with an 800 area code.

  Huh. Nothing there to trigger an alarm.

  He added the phone number and name to his notebook.

  He tapped the notebook into place in his pocket and stared at the door where the guy had disappeared. 'Michael' was probably a legitimate plumber making a legitimate service call.

  But something still niggled at his brain.

  Behind him, his car door opened. He spun around and took the pizza out of Raine's hands, set it on the roof of the car, then helped her out.

  With one last glance at the white van, he grabbed the pizza from the roof of the car and followed Raine to the gate.

  ***

  Raine took a deep breath as she walked into her apartment, Connor trailing behind her. Less than ten hours ago she'd slammed the door in his face. She'd been furious. And so turned on that a faint echo of arousal had vibrated inside her all day.

  Jacked up the moment she'd seen him in the gym.

  Memories of her and Connor, outside Peter's house, filled her head. She'd been angry then, too. And so turned on that he'd touched her once and she'd come in his hand.

  What did it say about her?

  She stared at the keys in her hand, then set them gently on the table as the realization swept over her. She'd been so numb since Genie died that she'd needed angry sex to feel something.

  Or was it Connor she'd needed?

  Unease prickled through her, and she pushed the question away. She headed for the kitchen to get plates and napkins, and the faint, unpleasant scent of the eggs he'd cooked for her stopped her in her tracks. Reminded her of what had happened in there that morning.

  Anger.

  Arousal.

  Both too strong. The anger, at least, unwanted.

  The arousal unwelcome.

  She should have cleaned the frying pan.

  He'd controlled her far too easily. He'd pinned her against the refrigerator as if she were no more than a tiny bug. Helpless against his greater size and strength.

  Even then, she'd wanted him. She could still feel his body pressed against hers, his muscles hard and unyielding. He'd been aroused. She'd been turned on, too, and he'd known it. She'd seen it in his eyes.

  She grabbed plates and napkins and turned back to the living room. Stopped.

  Connor was staring into the bedroom.

  A tangle of sheets and blankets draped over the edge of her bed and trailed to the floor. The sheets were wrinkled and one corner had pulled free of the mattress. It looked as if they'd spent hours rolling around in that bed, having sex.

  Making love.

  Whoa. No one was using the 'l' word.

  His shoulders blocked the light from the windows. The worn jeans cupped his ass like a pair of hands.

  He might have been able to overpower her that morning, but he didn't have all the power.

  She flicked a glance at the bulge in his jeans as he turned around. She had power, too.

  She needed to remember that.

  She set the plates and napkins on the coffee table and ducked around him to throw open the windows. Her apartment was stuffy. Close. Too many scents evoking too many memories.

  "It'll be cooler in this room. We can eat and look at your information at the same time."

  He rolled his shoulders and glanced at her, and she smiled. His eyes narrowed, as if that made him wary.

  Smart man.

  "You want a beer?"

  "Yeah." His shoulders relaxed. "Sounds good."

  She walked into the kitchen, put some water in the frying pan to soak it, then glanced at the clean dishes in the drying rack. Two cups. Two plates. Two sets of silverware.

  Too couple-like.

  She put everything away and grabbed a bottle of Blue Moon from the refrigerator. She popped the cap and carried it into the other room, along with a glass of water.

  One corner of his mouth turned up when he saw the bottle. "Pretty girly beer for such a tough woman."

  "I save my toughness for other things. Other...times."

  His eyes darkened, and he took a long drink from the bottle. His hand shook a little as he set it on the table. "Maybe some time in the future, I'll find out what those things are. And when those times might be."

  Desire bloomed, unfurling in the heat from his gaze. She grabbed a piece of pizza and took a too-big bite.

  He shifted in his seat as he watched her. "I like watching you eat."

  His husky, low voice strummed every nerve in her body. She swallowed the mouthful of food and reached for his beer, taking a drink. Tasted him on the glass. Arousal morphed into want. "I've never been shy about taking what I need," she said as she set the bottle gently on the coffee table.

  "Is that so." He held her gaze as he lifted the bottle. Licked the rim before he drank.

  She shuddered. Dropped the rest of her slice onto her plate before she could leap across the couch at him. Grabbed a napkin and wiped her hands. "Let's take a look at your information."

  He smiled, as if he'd outmaneuvered her, and she tugged her lip into her mouth to keep her smile from showing. He hadn't won anything. He was as affected as she was.

  "You sure you wouldn't rather go to bed? We can do this tomorrow."

  "Is that an invitation?"

  He swallowed and shifted again. "No. It's not. You're exhausted and hurt. You need to sleep."

  He was right. But in spite of the arousal pumping through her, despite her exhaustion, she needed to hear about Genie's case. "I'll sleep later."

  He held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay." He wiped his hands on one of the napkins, then pulled the file close. "I read through the information after I got the file this morning, and I have a few thoughts." He lifted his head to stare at her. "First. How often did Genie go to that club? The one next to the alley where she was killed."

  The lazy hum of arousal vanished. Raine closed her fist around the napkin. "As far as I know, that was the first time. If she was ever actually in the club."

  "She was inside. The bartender remembered her. Said she had a couple of drinks, danced with a few different guys."
r />   Raine's stomach twisted. She hadn't heard that before. "Are you sure?"

  "I'll double check with the bartender, but that's what the notes say." He raised an eyebrow. "So you didn't know about her clubbing?"

  "No." She shoved her suddenly cold hands beneath her thighs. "I can't imagine Genie in a club," she said slowly, frowning. "She didn't like crowded places. Loud noises."

  He put his elbows on his knees and leaned toward her. "She was there that night, Raine." His voice was gentle, and she wanted to hit him. She didn't want his pity. "Their stamp was on her hand. The bartender remembered her."

  "Maybe Peter told her to meet him there."

  He shrugged. "Possible. But then why would she have danced with other guys?"

  "I have no idea. But she wasn't trying to pick them up." Raine lifted her chin. "She was scared of Peter and wouldn't do anything to provoke him. And by that point, she loathed men as a species."

  "Those are the facts, Raine. She was in the club. She drank. She danced."

  "Did anyone see Peter in the club?"

  "I didn't find anything in the notes. I'm going to ask the bartender about that."

  "It's been six months," she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "How would he remember?"

  "I'll ask." He set a sheet of paper face down on the table and picked up another one. "She was found in the alley. Did she smoke?"

  "No. Never."

  "Any idea why she would have gone out there?" His voice was expressionless.

  "No. Peter must have lured her out there."

  He set the paper on the table. "Raine. Remember. This is about trying to figure out what happened. Following Genie's movements that night. Let's leave Northrup out of it for now." His voice softened. "You know Northrup has an alibi for the time she was killed. He was working late. His admin was there, too." She started to speak, and he held up his hand. "We'll get to that part, okay? Later."

  Raine stared at the pizza on her plate, her appetite gone. She thought she'd known everything about her sister. Every detail of her life. Maybe she hadn't.

  Connor's fingers curled around her shoulder and squeezed. "Raine. Murder is beyond awful. It's horrifying. Shocking. Sometimes we dig up ugly stuff that families don't want to know about. If this is going to be too painful for you, I'll do it myself."