Home Deadly Home

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Is that what you did?”

  Grant’s eyes had softened. Cassie labeled what she saw as kindness, but knew in her heart it was more. Although please not pity.

  “Probably,” she said, with one of her patented shrugs. “Kind of inevitable after I grew up shadowing Dad.” Like she’d had any other role model.

  She set out to steer the conversation other directions. She’d been stuck on herself lately. If she was sick of thinking about her, oh, so pitiful childhood, imagine how Grant must feel about it,

  With her encouragement, he talked readily about his parents, his younger brother Gabe, and his decision to enlist in the army right out of high school. He’d worked on a college degree as he could, finally completing his B.A. at Arizona State University.

  “I was driven to get the damn degree,” he admitted with a self-deprecating grin, “by the discovery that I hated taking orders.”

  “You were used to being the quarterback,” she teased, loving what his answering smile did to his face.

  “You’re right. I’d have been happier in the army if I’d been an officer, although lieutenants don’t have much authority, either. When I got out and began a career in law enforcement, I knew my chances of promotion would be boosted by a degree. I was right, too. I jumped to detective fast enough, I irritated a few people.” Quiet for a minute, he said ruefully, “Seems I’ve made a habit of that.”

  “You know what? Anyone who is a natural leader, smart and assertive, is going to ruffle some feathers.”

  Grant studied her for a minute in a thoughtful way before saying, “Thank you. I think that might have been a compliment.”

  Aware she was blushing, Cassie said, “Maybe,” and jumped up, gathering dirty dishes.

  Grant tried to get her to sit back down, but she insisted on helping. He’d been the cook, after all. Together, they cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher and put away leftovers as if they’d done it a few hundred times together.

  She excused herself to use the bathroom while he started the coffee, coming back to find him leaning against the cabinet as he’d often done in her dad’s kitchen. His arms were crossed, his body appearing relaxed, but his gaze seemed distant. Cassie wondered what he was seeing. When he became aware of her, though, his focus was absolute. Barely inside the kitchen, she came to a stop.

  She took a deep breath. “Maybe I should think about—”

  “Going home?”

  She nodded.

  “I’d almost made up my mind to let you,” he surprised her by saying, voice rough. But then he straightened away from the cabinet. “But I can’t. I want you, Cassie. I might even—” Furrows deepened on his forehead, and he shook his head, as if giving his brains a rattle. “Will you stay?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  He’d almost blown it there. Used to being close-mouthed, he had a way of spilling too much to Cassie. And if he’d so much as hinted that his feelings for her went deeper than lust and maybe liking, she’d have been out of here so fast, she’d have busted through the garage door before he could use the remote to open it.

  Grant knew why she was so antsy tonight: she’d revealed too much to him. He shared the unnerving push-pull. If he didn’t want her so much, she was the last woman he’d have invited over tonight. If anybody ended up with a broken heart here, he was afraid it would be him. It occurred to him that making love with Cassie Ward qualified as the kind of high risk activity he’d mostly given up. The thought might have amused him, if he wasn’t strung so tight, waiting for her decision.

  “I shouldn’t.”

  She was right. On an emotional level, they were a threat to each other. Getting physical wouldn’t help.

  Even so, he was stung by her hesitation. He might have sounded sharp when he said, “This isn’t a marriage proposal, Cassie. Why’s it such a tough decision?”

  He’d never seen the whites of a woman’s eyes when he’d asked her to get between the sheets with him. If he’d ever had any touch, apparently he’d lost it.

  She was breathing too fast. Hell, he probably was, too. He was achingly hard, that was for sure.

  “Okay,” she said in a dry little voice, ignoring his last question. “I’ll stay.”

  She sounded as if she’d grudgingly agreed to work overtime. Even so, Grant had to close his eyes for a minute to grab for self-control. “Can we skip the coffee?” he asked – begged – as he opened his eyes.

  First thing he saw was her quirky smile.

  “Coffee would just make me more nervous.”

  Yeah, him, too.

  She took a few steps closer to him. “Lucky your parents are out of town.”

  Grant laughed and groaned, too, even though that had never been a possibility. “If I hadn’t already rented a place, I would have once I met you.”

  “Really?” Those big brown eyes anxiously searched his face.

  “Really,” he said hoarsely, and finally let himself move.

  He wrapped his hands around her upper arms, reminded how dainty she was. She made it easy to forget. He stroked his way up to her shoulders, feeling her quiver as he went. He needed to make this good, show her what it could be like between them. Let her know he had feelings for her without saying the words. This might be his only chance.

  Head tipped back, she kept her gaze on his face. “I’m too short for you.”

  Laughing eased some of Grant’s tension. “We can fix that.” No warning. He just picked her up. “Put your legs around my waist.”

  Suddenly she was laughing, too, those flecks of gold heating her beautiful eyes as she squeezed his hips between her thighs. “This does equalize us some. Except you could drop me.”

  “Never.” The single word scraped his throat. He repeated it. “Never.”

  Her nerves showed again, but instead of stiffening, Cassie threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. As kisses went, it was spontaneous, clumsy and his knees came close to buckling. He backed her up to the refrigerator, ignoring the magnets and notes clanking and fluttering to the floor. Instead he tipped his head and kept on kissing her, his tongue sliding into her mouth. He rhythmically kneaded the perfectly shaped ass he’d admired from the first.

  She moaned and arched her back, rubbing her cleft against his erection. He encouraged the rubbing, helped her pace it, even though he was already skating the edge.

  The thought galvanized him. “Bed,” he said huskily, and carried her out of the kitchen, through the living room and up the stairs. With her riding him, he was in agony by the time he reached the top and shouldered open his bedroom door. He needed to slow this down. Instead of dropping her onto the bed and covering her with his body, he sat on the edge with Cassie straddling him.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  Her forehead puckered. “I’m not, you know.”

  He cupped her jaw and cheek with one hand. “You have the liveliest face I've ever seen. Expressions fly by. If I could slow them down, I’d be able to read your mind.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Nobody has ever said that before.”

  Grant bent to rest his forehead against hers. “Then they weren’t paying attention. I could watch you all day.”

  She said his name. Hugged him so tight to her that he couldn’t have escaped if he’d wanted to. Which he didn’t. They stayed the way they were for a good thirty seconds. Being held by her like this, he could let go of the day’s stresses.

  This was what he’d always wanted. Passionate sex with a woman who would challenge him and be his best friend, who’d love him even when he screwed up. Nobody had come close to being that woman until he met defiant, wounded, determined Cassie. Who might not ever be able to give herself that completely to anyone, and who didn’t want the life he’d chosen.

  He shook off something a lot sharper than disappointment. It could even be grief, although that was ridiculous. Nobody had to make any decisions yet. He hadn’t been sure they’d get this far. What could be better?

  Then he kiss
ed her.

  *****

  If she’d known how amazing it felt to sit astride a man like this and kiss him, she’d have tried it years ago. Except she’d never gotten this far with a man as big as Grant, so maybe it wouldn’t have been the same. She loved sitting on those powerful thighs she’d been ogling for so long, and sitting high enough they could kiss passionately without him having to stoop. And what he had under the zipper of his jeans was plenty big, too, and it would be inside her if they weren’t still wearing so many clothes. Her body kept trying to find a way anyway.

  A groan rumbled from deep inside him and he stilled her hips. “This will be all over in about thirty seconds if you don’t quit that.”

  “But…I want…”

  “I want, too.” He sounded satisfyingly ragged. “God. Just sit still for a minute.”

  If he hadn’t immediately started stripping her, she might not have been able to comply. But by the time he wrenched her shirt over her head and tossed it, she was unbuttoning his. Since her hands seemed to be trembling, that wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Especially not when the brawny chest that was exposed in the opening was so tempting.

  She made a strangled sound of frustration that had him laughing and finishing the last few buttons himself. Her hands looked ridiculously small as she splayed them on that wall of muscle. Fascinated, she found he radiated heat. The brown hair she’d glimpsed when the throat of his shirts were open proved to be silkier than she expected. She played with it, and his small, flat nipples, then smoothed her hand over a hard abdomen that flexed beneath her touch.

  “Cassie.” His voice was pure gravel, the look in his eyes desperate. “Let me—”

  She’d worn her prettiest bra tonight, but he didn’t seem to notice. It disappeared as fast as her shirt had.

  “Damn.” Dark color ran across his blunt cheekbones as he cupped her breasts in his enormous hands.

  Cassie dipped her head and watched as he shaped them, teased the hard nipples with his thumbs. Her breasts had never been this sensitive. When he bent her back over one arm and closed his warm, wet mouth over her and began to suck, Cassie moaned. The rhythmic suction set her to squirming. And squeaking and grabbing at him to pull him closer. Even the rough texture of his evening stubble felt erotic against her skin. When he finally tried to lift his head, he had to fight her for a minute.

  His hands shook now. He lifted her off his lap as if she didn’t weigh a thing, and tore at the button and zipper of her pants. She kicked off her own boots, and when he crouched, she lifted one foot at a time to let him finish stripping her. Then she reached for the button at his waist.

  Grant swatted at her hands and backed away. “Not a chance.” She didn’t mind too much since he was able to deal with his own pants and boots a lot faster than she could have.

  The sight of him had her blinking owlishly, though. “Um…maybe I’m not just too short. Maybe I’m too small for you.”

  One side of his mouth lifted. “We’ll make it work.”

  “That doesn’t sound really fun.”

  His smile became gentle. “I promise not to hurt you.”

  Her gaze flew to his. An odd note in his voice made her wonder if he was talking about fitting their bodies together, or something more. Standing there buck naked in front of her as she knelt on the bed, he held onto the crooked smile. Her heart somersaulted at the warmth she saw in soft gray eyes that bore no resemblance to gunmetal.

  Swallowing, she nodded. The last thing she wanted was to stop.

  At last he bore her back onto the mattress. Her brain hazed. She wanted to do all kinds of thing – explore his body, map the contours of muscle and bone and sinews, taste his skin. But her sense of urgency didn’t allow for play. Cassie planted her feet on the bed to push her hips up until she felt the pressure at her opening. He was saying something she couldn’t make out as she grabbed his muscular butt and tried to make him move.

  “Cassie!” He heaved himself up, breaking her grip. “I have to get a condom.”

  She stared up at him, seeing strain in the taut lines of his face. Forming words was a struggle. “I’m on the pill. If you’re—”

  “I’m clean. You mean that?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She’d never done this before, but she wanted him.

  He lost it, stretching out above her to kiss her frantically. The next second, he began to push inside her.

  Her fingernails dug into his back. She’d been right. This was too much. Wasn’t it? She hovered between shoving him off and pulling him closer. His muscles were so rigid they could have been polished rocks under her hands. Eyes closed, he clenched his teeth as he eased forward.

  Unbelievably, the pressure began to feel good. She wanted—

  “Do it,” she mumbled into his neck. “Now.”

  A guttural sound escaped him as he thrust hard. Cassie cried out, the discomfort still there but intense pleasure swamping it. Grant had lost control. He pulled back, drove into her again, faster and faster. The deep spasms that struck her felt like nothing she’d ever experienced. Her helpless cry was matched by a harsh sound as his body bucked.

  And then he came down with all of his weight on her, and breathed out her name.

  *****

  Her last words: Please! I’m sorry! So sorry. I’m not like that anymore.

  ‘Sorry’ was a worthless word, especially when it came nineteen years too late.

  He rose from his crouch and looked down at her. He’d been known to arrange a body to strike an effect, but Alicia had collapsed in a satisfyingly undignified position. Besides, every time he touched her extended the risk. Killing from a distance had advantages. The scope gave him a crystal clear, close-up view, as if he could touch, be splattered by hot blood, and yet he wasn’t there at all. He was invisible. A ghost.

  Occasionally, he liked to make an exception. He’d enjoyed seeing the shock in Chad’s eyes when he had understood he was too slow, that he’d been beaten by someone he’d once dismissed as shit he could shovel to a dunghill. Tonight, he’d enjoyed fucking Alicia Saunders nee Chastain. Making her get down on her hands and knees for him had heightened his arousal, but not so much that he allowed himself to be careless. When he finished and slit her throat, he imagined that the final, sighing sound she’d made was another attempt to say, Sorry.

  Too little, too late, bitch.

  It was a shame her hubby hadn’t been home, too. Double the fun. But Brett had stormed out of the house earlier and driven off with his face creased in a scowl. Apparently the marriage wasn’t all sunshine and roses.

  Think how funny it would be if Brett showed up in the morning clutching a bouquet of roses because he thought they would earn him forgiveness for his sins. How men could delude themselves. Just wait until he found out his wife had died because he had left her alone.

  It might be time to call it quits once he’d seen Grant Holcomb’s head explode…and had punished Cassandra Ward. She’d been warm and receptive when he and she talked. She looked right into a man’s eyes, let him think they had a connection. Even on the phone, she’d been…interested. Bargaining with him, sure, but she was a reporter. He understood. He was angrier now because he, too, had deluded himself. He’d wanted to believe Holcomb’s visits to the Ward home had been business, that Cassandra was playing the asshole for details.

  Instead, she’d driven right into Holcomb’s garage tonight, the door coming down as they really were stupid enough to think they’d deceived him. And then, watching through the window, he’d seen her wrap herself around the greatest asshole in the world.

  He’d gone back to his truck for his rifle, willing to throw over his timetable, but by the time he returned they had disappeared upstairs. He could not believe the bitch was in heat for Holcomb. She couldn’t have done anything that would enrage him more.

  Or turn him on. Taking care of Alicia had smoothed out both violent emotions. Temporarily.

  Fucking Cassandra would be a real pleasure – and killing her e
ven more of one.

  Smiling savagely, he slipped out the back door of the Saunders’ conveniently isolated house. He’d wait until he was home himself before he called the slut and gave her the good news.

  *****

  After their third lovemaking, Grant wasn’t sure he could so much as lift his head from the pillow. He’d been doing well to roll off Cassie’s luscious body to keep from crushing her. This time, she lay on her front, her face apparently buried in the mattress. Struggling with eyelids that weighed ten pounds each, he mumbled, “You ’kay?”

  She said something. Couldn’t do that if she were being smothered.

  He dropped hard into sleep.

  The grit of sand in his eyes was worse than having it on his balls, deep in his ear canals and, hell, his mouth, even if he kept it shut. You couldn’t keep the damn stuff out.

  Ignoring the discomfort even as he couldn’t completely block it, he scanned the rooftops of buildings all the color of sand. The open windows, dark doorways. Movement caught his eye and he swung toward it, lifting his AK-47. The figure that ducked back inside one of those doorways was fully clad in a burqa. Probably female – but male suicide bombers had been known to hide the explosives beneath the folds of black fabric. And the numbers of female suicide bombers had grown. Still, he thought this was merely a woman intending to go out, who had retreated when she saw the American soldiers. Snap decision.