Trust Me (The Donovan Family Book 4)

by Margaret Watson

  "No." She straightened. "No. I can handle this. I don't like it, but I'll do it."

  His fingers tightened. "You sure? I promise I'll tell you everything."

  For a moment, she wanted to twine her fingers with his. To let him soothe her. But she couldn't take the easy way out. She had to have a part in catching Genie's killer and making sure he faced justice.

  Making sure Peter paid for what he'd done to Genie.

  It was the last thing she could do for her sister, and she'd see it through. Until the end. "I need to do this, Connor."

  "Okay." He squeezed her shoulder one more time and let her go. She missed the warmth of his hand. The comfort.

  She took a steadying breath and raised her head. "What next?"

  An hour later, as they were discussing Genie's daily routine, a siren wailed in the distance. Came closer. Connor stood and glanced out her window. From the couch, she saw the flashing red and blue lights reflected in the courtyard.

  She joined Connor in time to see two police officers step out of a squad car. Connor's fingers whitened on the window sill, then he straightened.

  "Stay here. Keep the door locked. Let me have your keys so I can get back in the building. And don't open the door under any circumstances. Understand?"

  She slapped the keys into his palm. "Why can't I go down there with you?"

  He glanced out the window again. "Because if you're with me, I'm a nosy off-duty cop and his girlfriend. If it's just me, I'm a colleague who can get information. Or possibly help them."

  "'Girlfriend?'" She didn't like the way her heart fluttered at that word.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. "We walk out there together, that's what they see. So stay here." He waited a beat. "Promise me."

  She scowled at him. He'd been right, back there in the park. If she gave her word, she kept it, and it irritated her that he understood that. She stared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to cave.

  He stared back.

  "Fine," she finally muttered. "I promise."

  He closed the file on the coffee table. Slid it beneath a pile of magazines. "I'll be back in a few minutes. We'll continue with this then."

  He walked into the hall and closed the door behind him. She stared at the door for a moment, tempted to follow him anyway.

  "Lock the door, Raine."

  Scowling, she flipped the locks, then leaned against the door and listened to him walking away.

  As she straightened, her gaze fell on the coffee table. One corner of the file was visible beneath her magazines.

  Chapter 18

  As Connor ran down the stairs, his mind was back in Raine's apartment. Would she stay put? Or would she follow him to the courtyard?

  He walked into the twilight of the courtyard and glanced at the window of her apartment. She stood there, watching him. As her gaze locked with his, his cock stirred.

  He turned his back and took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Time to start thinking with the big head.

  As he struggled to focus, he spotted a man carrying a briefcase half-way down the path to the building. He'd angled his body to watch the officers on the other side of the gate.

  The guy turned and trudged toward the door of the building opposite Raine's. Connor spotted a flash of metal in his hand. Keys.

  Someone returning home from work.

  Dismissing him, Connor skimmed the space between the buildings, looking for anything out of place. With the sun below the horizon and darkness creeping over the poorly lit courtyard, the bushes took on ominous shapes. Full of shadows. Perfect hiding places.

  Even the crabapple trees with their low-hanging branches provided deep shade. Easy enough for someone in dark clothes to blend in.

  His gaze lingered on each tree, every shrub. No movement. No shadows darker than the others. No sense of someone watching.

  He took a deep breath. There was no one hiding or lurking in the courtyard. No signs of any danger.

  A few people stood at their windows, watching, but that was it. No one screaming, no urgency from the officers.

  Whatever was going on here probably had nothing to do with Raine.

  Coincidences made him suspicious. Twitchy.

  As he started toward the street, the alternating blue and red flashes from the roof lights on the squad reflected off the building and bounced back at him. Reminded him that he was a cop working a case. Genie Northrup was a murder victim. He needed to focus on that. Not Raine. Not the way his body reacted whenever he saw her.

  The door to the building across from Raine's flew open, and a young woman ran down the sidewalk toward the gate. She pushed through it and stopped in front of the closest police officer. Her high-pitched, agitated voice carried on the still air, and she gestured wildly with her hands as she talked.

  Connor glanced around once more, making sure he hadn't missed anything, then headed for the small cluster of people outside the gate.

  "Hey, Donovan." Harry Bellstair greeted him as he got closer. "What're you doing here?"

  Connor had worked with him on a few cases. He was a good cop. Smart. Aware. Focused. Would probably make detective soon. "Hey, Belly. I was here talking to a relative of a victim in one of my cases. Saw you guys pull up."

  "And you came out here?" Bellstair rolled his eyes. "Don't you know better than to volunteer?"

  Connor tensed. "Volunteer for what? You here about a murder?"

  "Nah. Burglary. Third one here in the past week or so. Schultz from Robbery's the detective."

  "Details?"

  Bellstair shrugged. "Small time. Probably an amateur. Perp grabs electronics, jewelry, small stuff he can hock. In and out fast."

  Stuff that would fit in an oversized tool box. "Forced entry?"

  "No." Bellstair frowned. "Only thing that's not amateur. Not sure if he has a master or he's picking the locks."

  Connor glanced at the distraught woman who was talking to the other officer. "What'd the guy get from her place?"

  "Her laptop. Not backed up recently."

  "Ouch." Connor's gaze skipped over the uniform trying to soothe the woman as he looked for the white van. It was gone. His unease ratcheted up another notch.

  "Might be nothing, Belly, but when I got here a couple of hours ago, I saw someone walking into the building. Khakis, work shirt with a name on the back, carrying a tool box. Wearing a hat, so no idea of hair color. Caucasian, though. Maybe six one, six two." He shrugged. "Probably legitimate, but something made the back of my neck itch." He pulled out his notebook. "He had a white van. Michael's Plumbing. Here's the plate and the phone number from the sign on the van."

  Bellstair copied the information into his own notebook. "Thanks, Donovan. I'll pass it along to Schultz."

  "Great." He hesitated, then added, "Keep me posted? I want to make sure my victim's relative knows what's going on. She's still pretty shaken up. On the edge."

  The uniforms didn't know Raine. They had no idea how tough she was. And Raine didn't need to know he'd described her as fragile. That would almost certainly earn him a kick in the nuts.

  But even if she found out, he'd still throw Raine under the bus to stay in the loop on this burglary. Because something had twanged his Spidey sense. Something was off.

  Why target this building? There were other apartment buildings and condos close by that were a lot flashier. Higher rents. Logically, more expensive toys to take. So why this modest apartment?

  Had the guy gotten a master key? Is that why he'd chosen this building?

  Or was it somehow connected to Raine?

  As he headed back toward Raine's apartment, he studied the layout of the building. It was U-shaped, with a door in the middle of the short wing and doors in the middle of both longer wings. He'd have to ask Raine if all the wings connected – if you could get in one door and reach all the apartments.

  He shoved the key into the foyer door, suddenly in a hurry to get back to Raine's apartment. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked shar
ply at her door.

  No answer. He knocked again, harder. When she still didn't answer, he unlocked her door and shoved it open.

  "Raine? Where are you?"

  When she didn't answer immediately, he fumbled for his gun under his left arm. Not there.

  He wasn't on duty.

  "Raine!"

  He glanced in the kitchen and the closet and hurried toward the bedroom. Stopped when he heard retching from the bathroom.

  "Raine?" The door was closed but not latched and he eased it open. Raine was on her knees in front of the toilet, her head bowed over the bowl, hands clutching the porcelain rim.

  "Hey." He dropped to the floor next to her. "What's wrong? Bad pizza?"

  She shook her head and slumped against the wall. Her face was paper white and her eyes and nose were running. "Pictures."

  Connor handed her a tissue and filled the glass on her sink with cold water. As she rinsed her mouth and spit in the toilet, he smoothed her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

  What pictures was she talking about?

  Shit. He closed his eyes and cursed. Photos taken at Genie Northrup's crime scene. Autopsy photos.

  He knew what Raine was like. How she'd push and push for information. He should have taken the damn pictures out of the folder and left them in his apartment. Damn it all to hell. Nothing he could do now.

  He helped her to her feet, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Once in the bedroom, he eased her onto the godawful uncomfortable chair he'd tried to sleep in. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

  He hurried into the living room and found one of the autopsy photos on the floor at the end of the couch, as if she'd dropped it as she ran for the bathroom. Crime scene photos lay on the couch and the floor. Genie's body was almost garishly bright. The halogen lamps they used at a night scene didn't miss a single detail of her battered, strangled body.

  There was a reason they didn't let civilians see crime scene photos.

  Raine had seen pictures from her sister's murder.

  She'd seen everything.

  He couldn't wipe those memories out of her head.

  He scooped up all the pictures and slapped them into the file. Shoved the whole mess beneath the magazine. Then he headed toward the bedroom and Raine.

  She stood next to her dresser, wearing only the lacy blue bra and a pair of matching panties. Her pale legs were toned and firm. So were her arms. And her abdomen was flat and smooth.

  She was vibrant. Healthy. Alive.

  "Put some god-damned clothes on," he said, his voice too loud for the small room.

  She jerked at the noise, glanced at him and yanked on a pale green, oversized tee shirt that fell to the middle of her thighs.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" He moved toward her until he was close enough to touch her. Close enough to smell the toothpaste she'd used to cleanse her mouth. "Why did you look at those pictures?"

  "I needed to see what else was in the file." She lifted her chin, but her lower lip trembled.

  "Are you happy now? Glad you snooped?"

  A single tear leaked from her injured eye and trailed down her face. Then another. Her eyes were huge. Her skin was still stark white.

  Oh, God. His anger drained away and he drew her into his arms. Buried his face in her hair. "I'm sorry. I should have taken those pictures out of the file before I picked you up. I should have left them locked up in my desk."

  She stood stiffly against him at first. At his words, though, the tension drained out of her and she wrapped herself around him. Her arms clung to his back, gripping his shirt. Her chest was smashed into his. Her legs were tucked between his, as if she needed to connect with him in as many places as possible. "They were...they were..."

  "Shh. I know." He pressed his mouth into her hair. Rocked her in his arms. Ran his hands up and down her back. Her tears dampened his shirt. She sniffed once, then again.

  When her hands finally loosened on his shirt, he let her ease away, but he didn't let her go. "I'm sorry, Raine." He stared into her drenched green eyes, hoping she could see his remorse. His regret. "What was your favorite summer vacation with Genie when you were kids?"

  She stared at his chest and sniffled once. Her eyes got a far-away look. "We rented a cabin at a lake one summer. There was a long pier. A raft in the water. A little store that sold ice cream bars and comic books. Our parents let us walk the two blocks by ourselves to get ice cream every night. We felt so grown-up."

  Her lips started to curl up. "I made her explore with me. A huge goose chased us. Genie screamed."

  "What games did you play with your friends?"

  A definite smile now. "We played night games in our neighborhood in the summer. Sort of capture the flag and tag and spy all wrapped together in the dark. Every kid in the neighborhood came out. Parents had to hunt down their kids, drag them into the house, to make us stop."

  "Did you and Genie walk to school?"

  Her eyebrows drew together. "Why are you asking me all this stuff?"

  "Trying to replace the bad memory with some good ones. And it sounds as if you have a lot of them with Genie."

  "Yeah. I do." Her gaze softened and she gripped his shirt more tightly. "Thank you for reminding me."

  The tear tracks down her cheeks glistened in the pool of light from the lamp. "It wasn't your fault, you know. You're not responsible. You said we'd continue when you got back." She cupped his face, her hands cool on his hot skin. "I pulled the file out from beneath those magazines and chose to look at it. It's not on you."

  He tried to smile. "Yeah, but I know you. I should have realized you'd look at the file the first chance you got. I shouldn't have brought those photos."

  "I'm not a child." She smoothed her thumbs over the five o'clock shadow on his cheeks. The faint rasp made him shiver. "I don't need anyone to protect me from myself."

  "Yeah, Raine. You do." He slid his hands up and down her arms. Her soft skin pebbled with goosebumps, and he drew her closer. "You were going after Northrup by yourself. Someone needed to stop you."

  The mesmerizing stroke of her thumbs stopped. "Is that why you're here, Connor? Because you're a cop? Because you think I need protecting?"

  He could lie and say yes. Pretend that was why he was sticking around. But she'd felt his swollen cock against her abdomen as he'd comforted her. Seen his reaction to her hands on his face.

  She'd know it was a lie.

  Then she'd take her hands off him. Move away so that he wasn't surrounded by her scent. Escort him to the door.

  He couldn't bear that. Couldn't bear to leave her like this. It was his fault she was devastated. Grieving all over again.

  He had to fix that.

  He wanted to hold her all night. To keep the nightmares away.

  "Why do you think I'm here, Raine?"

  "I don't know," she whispered. "I haven't known from the beginning."

  "I'm here right now because you were hurt yesterday. Because you shouldn't be alone." That was true. And safe.

  A shadow flickered over her face, gone so quickly he'd have missed it if he blinked. He drew her against him again. "That's not all, though," he murmured. "I want to be here tonight. I want to be with you."

  She rested her hands on his chest and studied his face. Could she feel his heart racing? Hear his short, rapid breaths that made it sound as though he'd been running?

  "I'd like you to stay," she finally said. Her low voice curled around him, drew him in. She stood on tip-toe and pressed her mouth to his. Before he could react, she'd eased away.

  He missed her mouth on him. Wanted it back.

  He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and realized she was cold. "You're shivering." She'd had a blanket over the back of the couch. "Come here."

  He took her hand and led her to the couch. Sat, pulled her into his lap and covered her with the blanket. She nestled against his chest and laid her head on his shoulder.

  "Better?" he murmured.

  "Hmm. Y
eah." Her eyes fluttered closed, but her hand traced patterns on his chest. The edges of her nails dragged over his shirt, and he swallowed.

  When she found his nipple, she stroked it. Played with it. It pebbled beneath her fingers, making his cock harden even more.

  Raine made that humming sound as she squeezed. Gently, as if testing his response.

  He was pretty sure she could feel his response against her thigh.

  "Raine." His voice was a hoarse rasp. "I want to touch you, too."

  She leaned back to study him, a small smile curving her mouth. "You've never asked before."

  "I'm asking now."

  Her fingers wrapped around his and she drew his hand beneath her tee shirt. Flattened it against her stomach. Held her own hand on top of his, as if afraid he'd take it away.

  Not a chance in hell of that.

  Chapter 19

  Raine closed her eyes as Connor spread his palm over her stomach. His callused fingertips scraped across her abdominal muscles, and she shivered. Drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

  This. This was what she needed.

  Connor could make her forget about those awful, gruesome pictures. Forget about Genie, cold in the ground. He could make her feel something other than devastated.

  She dragged his hand lower. She needed him there. Needed the pleasure that would obliterate everything else. The complete mindlessness. The release.

  He resisted her demanding hand. Curled one arm around her, holding her in place. His muscles were rock-hard. Immovable. And suddenly, she wanted to see them. To trace the curve of his biceps, feel them flex beneath her fingers.

  But when she tried to unbutton his shirt, he held her closer. Caressed her abdomen, his fingers trailing slowly up, then down her belly as if he was using Braille to map every inch.

  As if he wanted to take hours to learn that small swathe of sensitive skin.

  She squirmed in his lap, her skin prickling with need, her breasts heavy and aching. A drumbeat between her legs demanded attention. His hand faltered as she moved against him.