by Style, Linda
“If it involves the case, I definitely should know.”
“The boy we talked about earlier, Tommy Ramirez. He hangs out with the Pistoles.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“One of the boys at the center.”
“You think Tommy is a gang member? He’s awfully young.”
“I don’t think anything. Sometimes the gangs let younger boys hang around so that they’ll know the ropes when they’re ready to join. And apparently Tommy’s older brother was a member of the gang before he was sent to prison, so it’s possible the boy wants to follow in his brother’s footsteps.”
“Do you know his brother’s name?”
“No.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling me. I think we might have something to work with. And it’s more than we had before.” She could talk to Marco Torres and find out more about Tommy.
Alex smiled. “Good.”
Still a little disturbed by the phone message, Crista wasn’t ready for Alex to leave quite yet. “I was about to get a drink. Would you like one, too?”
“Sounds good.”
“I have beer and wine, water, milk, coffee and tea. What’s your preference?”
He leaned against the back of the couch, one arm over the top, a sultry, seductive look in his eyes. A look that said his preference wasn’t a drink.
Her stomach did a flip. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she launched to her feet and headed toward the kitchen. “I’m having a beer.”
“Make that two.”
Though she wasn’t looking at him, she heard the smile in his voice. He knew she was flustered.
Crista brought in two Coronas and a couple of Pilsner glasses. She set the bottles on the table and handed a glass to Alex.
“You take it,” Alex said. “I’ll drink from the bottle.”
Surprised, she handed him a beer. He’d been raised in a wealthy family, knew all about the finest wines and here he was drinking beer from the bottle. Adaptable. She liked that.
One beer led to another and soon they were laughing and joking and Crista felt completely at ease. It had been a long time since she’d just let go. A long time since she’d enjoyed someone’s company so much.
“So,” Alex said, “we never did find out who was the most expert in martial arts.”
Crista’s interest was piqued. “That’s right. So you tell me your experience and I’ll tell you mine. Then we’ll know.”
Alex wrinkled his brow. “Actually I was thinking more of a physical test.”
“Such as?”
His gaze turned soft and thoughtful. “I don’t know.” He reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face, touching her cheek in the process. “Maybe I better rethink that idea.”
Crista’s breath hitched. His eyes locked with hers, intimate and compelling, drawing her in.
“Come to think of it,” he said, his voice low and husky. “We never finished what we started on the steps last week.” And almost before he finished the sentence, his lips met hers.
Warm mouth. Soft lips. Just as she remembered. Even though they’d had an abrupt end to their first kiss, she remembered every second. Dreamed about it, again and again. Nothing had felt as good in a long time and remembering that, she wanted more. As much as she could get. She melted against him, suddenly not caring if this was right or wrong or what the ramifications might be. It was right for right now. That’s all that mattered.
Within seconds they were prone on the couch, the length of his body on top of hers. He pressed against her and she pressed back, wanting to ease the growing ache of desire.
Mouth to mouth and body against body, her skin felt as if it was on fire. Blood pumped through her veins like hot lava, and her heart hammered so hard, she was sure it was going to implode.
It had been so long since she’d been intimate with a man…so long that she’d felt anything so physically pleasurable.
Yes, she wanted more. She wanted all of him. He was practically a stranger and she wanted to make love with him. Right here. Right now.
His strong hands caressed her breasts, then slid downward to her bottom and came around to slip between her thighs.
“Crista. You’re so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses.
He was gentle, yet forceful, passionate and caring, and at that moment he seemed everything she wanted. Her breathing came in short, quick gasps and she wanted to give herself to him as she’d never given herself before.
His fingers went to the buttons on her blouse and in seconds her pink lace bra was exposed.
Quickly, she unbuttoned the front of his shirt, exposing his muscular chest. She leaned forward to kiss his neck and saw a small silver cross on a chain. She pushed back, stopping what she was doing to look at it. She tamped down a quick burst of Catholic guilt that threatened to ruin the moment. She hadn’t gone to church in years. She didn’t do guilt anymore. Still, a warning went off in her head.
If she did this, it would be like having a one-night stand with a stranger. Because, she realized, Alex was a stranger. He didn’t really know her. They didn’t really know each other. Not enough to make love.
Her body warred with her common sense. And common sense finally got the better of her. She gently pushed herself away.
“What?” Alex asked. “Am I hurting you?”
She shook her head. “No. I just…it’s too soon. We hardly know each other.”
His expression switched from lust to complete surprise. “You’re joking. Right?”
She shook her head again. “No, I mean it. We don’t know each other all that well.”
He sat back, incredulity on his face. “You know more about me from investigating the case than almost anyone. You’ve just spent Thanksgiving with me and my family. How can you say we’re strangers?” His dark eyes filled with the sting of rejection. She should have expected that. Alex wasn’t the kind of man to take rejection lightly.
“I know about you, Alex. I don’t really know you. I don’t think you know me very well, either.”
“I think I know you very well.”
“What’s my favorite color?”
He kept his gaze locked with hers. “I might not know that, but I think I know you. I know who you are in here.” He touched the fingertips of one hand to her chest. “I know you’re caring and gentle, I know you have a passion for life, strong values and an incredible sense of justice. I’ve seen your gentleness with Sam and your empathy and concern for your brother. I’ve seen how you considered the feelings of the boys I’m working with and the respect you gave them. Even if I don’t know the details, I know you very well, Crista. In the most important ways.”
A lump lodged in her throat. She didn’t know what to say.
“I think you know me, too,” he added.
That was the problem, she realized. She knew him enough to know she wasn’t the woman for him.
“But, regardless of what I think, if you believe we need more time to get to know each other, I respect your feelings.”
Crista sat up and reached to button her shirt. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Alex reached over to button her top buttons, his large hands not very adept, but she let him do it anyway.
Studying her, his eyes suddenly lit. “I have a great idea. You mentioned that you have this weekend off, and since I do, too, why don’t we use that time to get to know each other better.”
Even though she wasn’t going to the station, Crista had planned on working on the case. “I don’t thin—”
He placed a finger to her lips to shush her. “Don’t say no yet—not until you hear my suggestion. Okay?”
She nodded, hesitant.
“I promised Sam when she was in the hospital that I’d take her to the beach in Galveston for a couple days, and we made plans to go tomorrow night. Why don’t you come along with us?”
Spend a weekend with Alex in Galveston? She’d have to be crazy. If she spent any more time this close to him,
she wasn’t sure she could be held responsible for her actions.
“It would be perfect. You could room with Sam, and get to know us both a little better.”
A weekend in Galveston sounded wonderful. White sand beaches and the clear aqua water of the Gulf, in the company of her two favorite people. How could that be bad? Especially if she was rooming with Sam.
“It’ll be a diversion,” Alex continued, running long fingers through his dark hair. “For the past two weeks, nearly all I’ve thought about is the shooting. I even dream about it happening again. I want to take Sam away and forget this for a while.”
Crista swung her hair behind her shoulders. “That’s understandable. I feel that way myself.” Only she had a job to do. It was her number-one priority.
Alex’s eyes darkened, a frown creased his brow. “As much as I hate to admit it, even with someone guarding the house, I don’t feel very safe anymore. I want to protect Sam, but I don’t know how to do it except to take her away. Even if it’s only for a few days.”
She worried about that very thing herself and if she, as a cop, felt helpless to do anything about it, how must Alex feel? If she could just find the shooter….
He reached out and gently placed a hand over hers. “Don’t answer now. Think about it,” he said. “I’ll call tomorrow morning and we’ll talk. Okay?”
Ambivalence coursed through Crista. It would be so nice to get away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. She wanted to go—but she shouldn’t. Couldn’t.
“We’ll have a great time.” Alex’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. And most importantly, Sam will be tickled pink if you come.”
She’d be tickled pink to spend time with Sam, too. It was spending time with Alex that worried her. Still, he looked so hopeful…like a kid waiting to hear if he was going to Disneyland.
“Okay,” she said even though it was against her better judgement.
“Okay, you’ll think about it? Or okay, you’ll come along?”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
MORNING SWOOPED DOWN on Crista like a hawk. The night hadn’t been long enough—not long enough to make a decision that might affect other people’s lives. Though she’d spent most of it going back and forth about spending the weekend with Alex and Sam, she still hadn’t decided. That was totally unlike her, she’d never been wishy-washy before. She usually made a decision and went dead ahead.
But how could she decide when she didn’t know what Alex wanted from her. She didn’t know what she wanted from him. All she knew was that when she was around Alex, she felt like a different person.
When she was with Alex, all her senses seemed intensified. The sky seemed bluer, the flowers brighter. Little things seemed more important. A smile. A touch. When she was around Alex, her stomach fluttered, her hands got clammy and heat rose to her cheeks, not to mention some other parts of her body. She hadn’t had those feeling since… She couldn’t remember when.
She admired Alex, she respected him. She cared about him. Too much. She cared about Sam and dammit, she wanted to spend time with them.
But Alex’s life was contrary to everything she’d planned for herself. She could never be the kind of person he would want in a serious relationship. And he wasn’t the kind of person who’d settle for a relationship that was less than his strong values and beliefs would allow. She knew that about him as well as she knew herself.
Or thought she knew herself. Lately, she’d even begun to wonder about that. Maybe she’d just convinced herself of what she wanted because she didn’t believe anything else was an option.
Was she selling herself short by not opening up and waiting to see what might develop? Could a relationship with Alex ever work? Could she ever change and be the kind of person he wanted? She didn’t believe so. She was who she was.
Could Alex ever change and accept her as she was? She doubted it. Alex had a daughter who needed someone who could give her what she lost when her mother died. Why then did Alex even contemplate getting involved with her? He, more than anyone, had to know it could never work.
That settled it. She couldn’t spend the weekend with Alex and Sam, no matter how much she wanted to.
The decision made, Crista rose, brewed a latte and then went to the kitchen table to draft a plan of action for the day. The same gun had been used in two drive-bys, and the same gun had been used in another crime a few years ago. In all three cases, the weapon had never been found. Pedro Castillo had been a member of the Pistoles, but he was in jail. That eliminated him as a suspect. However, if she could find out what Pedro had done with the gun…she might be closer to an answer.
Since she wasn’t going to the station today, she’d have to get her information directly from the source. She decided to start by contacting Marco. He and Pedro had been members of the gang at about the same time, and Marco might know something. If that didn’t work, she’d go to the prison and talk to Pedro.
She headed for the shower, turned on the water and let it run hot. Just then the phone rang.
Her stomach did a funny roll. Alex. It had to be Alex. And she had to tell him no, she couldn’t go with them. She went into the bedroom and answered on the extension. “Crista here.”
“Hi,” he said, his voice filled with exuberance. “It’s Alex.”
“I recognized your hi.”
“Good. I like that. You must know me very well to recognize my voice,” he joked.
She laughed—only she didn’t like that she recognized his voice. It meant that he was important enough to remember. It meant that he affected her.
“I hope you’ve decided that joining me and Sam in Galveston for a couple of days will be fun.”
“I’m sure it would be, but—”
“It isn’t a life commitment or anything. Just a weekend away.”
His upbeat manner and comment made her think again. It wasn’t a life commitment. And it could be fun.
“If you find you really can’t make it, we could reschedule. Sam might be disappointed but she’d understand.”
Did he mean that if she said no, he wasn’t going to go? He needed to take Sam away, not just for fun but for safety reasons. She didn’t want to be responsible for him postponing the trip. If something happened she’d never forgive herself. In fact, if she had her way, Alex would stay out of town until they nailed the shooter.
“No strings. Just a relaxing weekend away from Houston. I have a feeling you might need that as much as Sam and I do.”
She sighed. He was so right. She did need it. “You’re very convincing. And that’s bad.”
“Is that the good bad, or the bad bad?”
“I’m not telling.” She sighed again. If they didn’t leave until later in the day, she could get some work done before they left.
“So are we on?”
Still reluctant, she had to clarify the circumstance. “Okay. We’re on. But only because I feel it’s good for Sam.” She wanted to say they’d be safer away from Houston, but wasn’t going to dwell on it. He was worried enough about his family as it was.
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re coming. Sam will be over the moon when I tell her. I’ll pick you up at six. And bring a jacket. It might be chilly at the beach.”
CRISTA HAD FORGOTTEN to shut the shower off while on the phone with Alex, and going into the room she felt as if she were in a steam bath.
Standing under the showerhead, she angled her face into the hot spray. After a moment, she adjusted the nozzle for more pressure, turned and let the water massage the back of her neck where the tension always settled.
She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go to Galveston when moments before she’d decided just the opposite. Had Alex been all that convincing, or had she turned into a marshmallow?
The only way she could justify going with Alex and Sam was because she felt both of them would be safer away from Houston, an
d because he’d threatened not to go if she didn’t come.
A little voice inside said that maybe he’d played the threat card because he knew it would get her to agree to come along.
It was a cynical thought and probably not deserved. But working the streets had a tendency to make a person cynical. She didn’t like that about the job, but that’s the way it was. If you didn’t disengage, you couldn’t do a good job. If you didn’t make jokes over some of the tragedies, you’d go stark raving loco.
Still, she felt bad that she’d questioned Alex’s motives. He was a good man. His intentions honorable. He just wasn’t right for her.
She finished in the shower, wrapped her head in a fluffy white terry towel and then patted herself dry with another. Preoccupied with her thoughts, she heard a noise. Like a door opening or closing. She froze, her senses on red alert.
Holding her breath, she tucked the towel around her body then flattened herself against the wall behind the bathroom door. She heard another faint sound—like the movement of fabric. Like the sound clothes make when you walk.
Someone’s in the apartment.
And her gun was in the bedroom.
Unwilling to wait until whoever it was reached her, Crista grabbed a small hand mirror off the sink and held it just outside the door so she could see down the hallway. The coast was clear.
Her pulse beating erratically, she sprinted down the hall as quietly as she could. She stopped at the bedroom door, flashed the mirror to make sure no one was in the room, and then ducked inside.
Still holding the towel around her, Crista reached for her gun. As she did, the towel covering her hair fell off and landed on the floor with a dull thud, the sound subtle, but loud enough for someone to pick up if they were listening.
She slipped behind the bedroom door and flipped the safety on her gun. She heard a click, like a door shutting.
Breathing heavily, she waited a couple minutes and when she didn’t hear anything more, she crept down the hall toward the living room, gun at the ready. She glanced at Calvin’s cage. The bird appeared fine. She saw nothing out of place.
