Dangerous Games

by Marie Ferrarella

  Like a huge, overwhelming celebration, the first climax exploded within her even as she struggled to get Cole’s jeans off him. It was disorienting and wonderful. Temporarily forgetting everything else, she shuddered, her body moving against him as she gloried in the sensation he’d created for her.

  And in moving, she was causing earthquakes to begin inside of him. Kicking his jeans aside, Cole lost no time in pursuing the vein of pleasure. Swiftly he pushed her back on the bed, then began to weave a network of exploratory kisses over her entire body, leaving imprints of his lips, his tongue, his teeth everywhere.

  Rayne twisted and turned, moaning his name, moaning things that remained, for the most part, unintelligible to both of them.

  When she arched against him in open invitation, Cole accepted it in his own fashion. Rather than forge the union she silently begged for, he held himself in check a little while longer. For the sake of their mutual gratification. So instead, he continued anointing her body.

  The circle of openmouthed kisses grew dangerously close to her core. When his tongue finally darted in, Rayne was certain she couldn’t handle the exquisite sensations that were assaulting her body.

  She wanted them to stop.

  She wanted them to continue.

  But most of all, she wanted him.

  Forever.

  Cole had the upper hand here. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, to make it equal, or take control, it was Cole who held that position, Cole who reduced her to a pulsating mass who could barely think. The only consolation she had was the moan that escaped his lips when she grasped him, her long fingers stroking him. It told her that the ecstasy that was being created was not strictly one-sided.

  And then, just as swiftly, he entered her and they were joined together. Together, the way she felt they always had been.

  The way she wished they always would be.

  She found herself cleaving to him in ways she had never imagined before. Heart and soul. Body and mind. Completely.

  She’d never been happier in her life. And never more afraid.

  When the final explosion came that took them both over the top, Rayne held on to him so hard, she thought her fingers would snap off.

  He waited until his heart had settled down to a peaceful beat instead of a vibrating drumroll before he trusted himself to roll off her. Before he ventured saying anything.

  With a huge satisfied sigh, he cradled her against him and thought of absolutely nothing, just leaving himself tucked into the moment. When she stirred, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and surprised himself. He hadn’t thought that he was capable of tenderness, and yet he’d taken to it like a duck to water. It felt good.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since the last time.”

  Fears began to grow inside of her. Tiny fears that threatened to obliterate everything. She felt herself scrambling inside to hold them at bay. A farm girl armed with a pitchfork against nuclear warheads.

  “Don’t say last time,” she begged quietly, “Don’t say next time. There’s only now. This time.”

  “Living in the moment?”

  She could feel herself growing defensive and knew that she shouldn’t be. “It’s all any of us know we have.”

  “I used to feel the same way. Until I started helping people find their future.” Looking down at her, trying to see her expression, he said, “There’s nothing wrong in planning for tomorrow.”

  That was where he was wrong. She let out a shaky breath. “There is if it doesn’t come.”

  This was about her mother and he knew it was something she had to work out for herself. He could only be there for her when and if she did. Pulling Rayne to him, he began making love to her once more, slowly this time, so that they could each savor the moment.

  Her body began to heat again, even though she would have sworn in any court of law that every fire, at least for now, had been summarily extinguished. “What are you doing?”

  “Tipping the scales in my favor,” was all he told her before he kissed her.

  When he woke up, night enshrouded most of the room. He turned into her only to find the place beside him was empty.

  Had she left?

  Bolting upright, he realized that a soft humming came from the area of the desk. A soft humming and dim lighting from the single lamp she’d switched on to the smallest setting.

  Rayne sat in front of his laptop, deeply engrossed in whatever she’d managed to pull up on the screen. She wore his shirt, the ends seductively brushed up along her thighs. He was willing to bet she didn’t have anything on underneath.

  He could feel himself wanting her all over again.

  Taking care not to make any noise, he slipped out of bed and walked up behind her. She appeared to be so taken with what she was reading, she didn’t seem to hear him. He smiled to himself and gently slid his hands along the sides of her neck, caressing her throat.

  “Come back to bed,” he urged softly.

  Startled, she jumped beneath his hands.

  “Hey, easy,” he soothed, then laughed. “I thought cops were supposed to have nerves of steel.”

  “Right now, mine are mush.”

  And turning softer by the minute, she thought as she turned to look at Cole. He was as naked as the day he was born and a hell of a lot more magnificent. But she couldn’t afford to be sidetracked, not now. What she’d discovered had to be shared.

  “I think I found something.”

  Raising the hair away from her neck, Cole pressed a soft kiss there. “So do I.” And it might just be the rest of his life, he thought. The concept was beginning to become less and less frightening the more he thought about it.

  If she didn’t get him to stop, she wasn’t going to be able to think in another moment. She could already feel herself responding to him on all levels.

  With superhuman effort, she moved her head away. “No, I’m serious. It’s about Eric.”

  That caught his attention. Straightening, he looked at the screen. “What?”

  She had a nagging little feeling that she’d overlooked something basic. Maybe it even was the reason why she felt she had to look into the case against Eric. She’d finally been able to pull in the vague memory that had been playing hide-and-seek with her mind. It was just a brief moment, really. Eric sitting beside her in English class, writing notes.

  “Eric’s left-handed, isn’t he?”

  He wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but he nodded. “For the most part, yes, although he does do some things with his right hand.” When she raised a quizzical brow, he explained, “He broke his left arm when he was ten. With his arm in a cast, he had to learn to use his right hand. Never got very good at it. Why?”

  She wanted to follow this line of thinking for a second. “So to the casual observer, Eric might seem right-handed, just like a good deal of the world.”

  “Right…” Dragging the word out, Cole waited for her to make her point.

  “I just looked at the autopsy report again.” She didn’t bother telling him how it had found its way from the M.E.’s computer to his. The less he knew about that, the safer he was. “And—” She couldn’t continue. “Damn it, Cole, please put on some pants. I’m having trouble stringing words together.”

  “I’m sorry.” But the grin on his face as he pulled on his jeans told her he was no such thing. Zipping up, he waved for her to continue. “Go on.”

  “Among other things, the autopsy report describes the fatal stab wound—left to right, the way a right-handed person would do it,” she enunciated carefully. “A left-handed person would deliver the blow from right to left. We still may not know who did do it, but it’s for sure that Eric didn’t kill her. The initial thrust wouldn’t have been as deep as it was.”

  Overjoyed, Cole bracketed her shoulders with his hands and scooped her up from the table. He kissed her mouth long and hard. Leaving them both more than a little breathless.

  “That’s for Eric,” he told her.<
br />
  She grinned, very satisfied with herself. “Kisses pretty good for a man behind bars.” Rayne glanced at her watch. It was a little past two. She doubted if anyone from the D.A.’s office could be roused at this hour. She knew that Janelle could, but she didn’t want her cousin going out on a limb for her. The limb belonged to her alone. She’d carved her initials into it. “Now I’d like Eric’s brother to kiss me, please.”

  Cole slipped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. “No sooner said than done.”

  He found he didn’t need his jeans for long.

  They split up.

  By seven Cole had already gotten in contact with Eric’s lawyer, rousing him out of bed. Holland stopped complaining bitterly when Cole explained what they had uncovered about the fatal wound that had killed Kathy Fallon. In short order, he made arrangements to meet with the lawyer at the D.A.’s office within the hour.

  Watching him hang up, Rayne made her decision. There was something she needed to do. “I’ll hook up with you at the police station.”

  Her announcement caught him by surprise. He’d have thought she’d want to be there every step of the way. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  She shook her head. “Not right away. I have to go home.” She’d given this a lot of thought, wrestling with her conscience all night, when she hadn’t been wrestling with him. “I have to tell my father what I found out.” She could guess what he was going to say. “I know it’s been fifteen years and another few hours isn’t going to matter, but—”

  “Go,” he told her. “He deserves to know, to go see this woman for himself.”

  She had no idea why she felt so relieved to hear him support her decision. Even now she was plagued with doubts about it. “I just hope this isn’t going to turn out to be a wild-goose chase—”

  “Only one way to find out.” He flashed an encouraging smile at her. “I’ll see you later.” About to leave, Cole stopped and crossed back to her. Taking hold of Rayne by her shoulders, he kissed her soundly, then forced himself to release her. They both had errands of mercy to run. “Good luck.”

  She nodded. “To both of us,” she added after he’d shut the door.

  Andrew didn’t bother to look up when he heard the back door open.

  “You missed breakfast again.” He’d just finished putting away the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Flipping the dial, he began the wash cycle. “This is getting to be a habit.”

  She stared at his back. How was he going to react? Would this be too much for him? And what if it wasn’t her mother? Now that she was here, she could feel some of her bravado, some of her convictions, slipping away. “Twice isn’t a habit.”

  “Okay, it’s the beginning of a habit,” he allowed. Reaching for a towel, he wiped his hands. “You going to split hairs with me?”

  She was stalling, she thought, because she was afraid to say the words out loud, afraid of it not being true. Afraid of hurting her father the way he’d been hurt so many times before.

  When she didn’t answer, Andrew finally turned around to look at her. The moment he did, he read the expression on her face. Everything inside of him came to attention. “What’s wrong?”

  “What makes you think anything is wrong?” Her voice no longer carried with it the conviction that had infused it only a few years ago. Over time, she’d lost some of her false bravado.

  Andrew found he was short on patience this morning. He’d spend the night worrying about her and the morning thinking he was too old for this kind of thing.

  “Cut the stalling tactics, Rayne. Whether you like it or not, I can read you like a book. A mystery novel sometimes, but—”

  There was only one way to get this said and that was to blurt it out. “I think I saw her.”

  “Her?” He looked at Rayne, the word echoing in his chest. Mocking him. His thoughts converged in one direction, but he couldn’t believe that his daughter meant what he wanted her to mean. There was caution in his voice as he said, “Who?”

  Rayne took a deep breath, trying to steady nerves that had come out of nowhere to take control. The word still came out shaky.

  “Mom.”

  Her father looked at her for a moment that stretched out so far, so thin, she could almost hear it creaking. There was no other sound in the room. No music, no cars passing outside, no birds singing. Nothing.

  “Say something,” she begged.

  Exercising extreme control, Andrew held himself in check. He didn’t trust his voice beyond a single word. “Where?”

  Now that she’d begun, the words came out in a flood. “Up the coast, on the way to Bainbridge-by-the-sea. She’s working at a diner.” Her words played back in her head. “I know this sounds crazy—”

  He pulled her over to the table, motioning for her to sit down. He dropped into the chair opposite her. His knees felt as if they were hollow.

  “Crazy. That’s the word everyone used because I refused to believe she’d drowned.” He took her hand in his, as if that could form some kind of bond that would transfer any detail she might forget to include. “Tell me everything.”

  “There isn’t all that much to tell.”

  She went through it quickly, telling him how she’d spoken to the cashier and that as far as the woman knew, “Claire” never mentioned anything about her childhood, or anything that had happened in her life before she’d come into the small town.

  Her father listened to her intently, as if each word was a secret to be investigated on its own before it was gathered together with the rest.

  Finishing, she looked up into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you—”

  Because they were so alike, he knew exactly what she was thinking, exactly the path her reasoning had taken. Vacillating between distrust and a desire for it to be true.

  “You had to,” he assured her.

  Now that she’d told him, she wanted to protect him from any disappointment that loomed in front of him. “I don’t even really know for sure that it’s her, Dad.” She paused, debating. Then told him what had persuaded her. “But there’s this feeling—”

  He understood perfectly. “Never underestimate gut feelings, Rayne. It’s kept many of us alive.” Getting up, he crossed over to the counter and took a sheet of paper from the pad he always kept there. “Tell me exactly where this diner is.”

  She gave him the directions. He wrote them down, then folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “You’re going there now?”

  “There’s no reason to wait.”

  None but fear, he added silently.

  Part of him wanted to hold on to the information, to revel, just for a little while, in the possibility that he would finally, after all these years, find Rose. If he went there now, once he walked into that diner all that might be taken away from him.

  But he’d never been a man to hang back when moving forward could accomplish something.

  She followed him to the front door. “Want me to come with you?”

  The car was going to be full as it was. Filled with his nerves. It was better if she didn’t see him this way. He smiled at her, but shook his head. “Thanks, but I’d rather do this alone.”

  She understood. “Dad—”

  Hand on the doorknob, he paused to look at his youngest. Rayne threw her arms around his neck and held him for a moment, praying that things would turn out the right way. Praying that her father would be lifted out of limbo. She didn’t even begin to think about the way finding their mother alive would affect the rest of them. It was too soon for that.

  “Good luck,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his cheek.

  Andrew nodded, not trusting his voice. His throat was suddenly clogged with emotion. Touching her cheek with his fingers, he silently told her how much he loved her.

  And then he was gone.

  Rayne stood in the foyer for a long moment, praying she hadn’t just sent her father off to have his heart broken again.

  Dragging a
deep breath into her lungs, she turned on her heel and raced up the stairs. She was giving herself exactly fifteen minutes to shower and change into fresh clothing.

  Rayne was out the door in just under fourteen.

  Checking the pockets of her jacket for keys, she hurried to her car. And stopped dead the second she saw him.

  Longwell was getting out of his car.

  The vehicle was parked right in front of her driveway. From the sounds it was making, he must have just pulled up. Which meant her father hadn’t seen him before he left. An uneasy premonition reared its head. Rayne slipped her hands into her pockets.

  “I thought you were out of town.” The words were a challenge. Her eyes never left Longwell’s face. He looked far from happy.

  There was no one else out. Everyone had left for wherever they were going, school, work, shopping. Rayne felt suddenly alone and exposed. She cursed the fact that she didn’t keep her weapon in her pocket. All she had within easy reach was her cell phone.

  Longwell’s fair face reddened a little more with each step he took toward her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? It’s not enough to question my findings, to make it look as if I did something wrong, now you’re trying to pin this on me?”

  He’d taken one hell of a leap from point A to point B. Innocent men didn’t think that way. “I’m not trying to pin anything on you—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Rayne,” he growled. He was in her face now, fairly snarling. “How much is that pretty boy paying you to plant evidence?”

  She had no idea what he was talking about and doubted that he did, either. Cornered animals lashed out indiscriminately. Had they cornered him? “I’m not planting evidence, Longwell. Why don’t you just calm down and maybe we can—”

  “No! ‘We’ can’t do anything. Me, I’m going to do something, not you, bitch. You women are all alike. I thought you were different, honest, but you’re just like the rest, conniving, looking out for yourself, sucking a man dry and then throwing him away—”