He hadn’t been asleep for quite thirty minutes when the ring of his cell phone had him bolting out of bed. Remembering his phone was in his pocket and that he’d taken off his clothes in the living room, where he and Macy had made love after they’d returned, he rushed to find it.
“Baldwin,” he answered, hoping for a wrong number, because middle-of-the-night calls were rarely good.
“Jake. It’s Stan.” His friend’s tone was grave. “I’m at a homicide scene. It appears it’s connected to the Tanks case. I wanted to give you a heads-up.”
Jake got images of Billy Moore’s mug shot and squeezed his eyes shut as he raked his hand through his hair. Silence filled the line. “Tell me it isn’t Billy Moore.”
“I’m not sure yet. We’re talking two or more shots to the face. CSI is running fingerprints, and they aren’t back yet, but the age and height fit. We’re taking him to County.”
“Shit,” Jake said. He heard a shallow intake of air behind him. He turned and found Macy, a sheet wrapped around her, leaning against the wall. “I’m on my way,” he said.
Fear glistened in Macy’s eyes. “Billy?” she asked.
Jake’s throat tightened. “We’re not sure.” He offered that slightest bit of hope, but she deserved the truth. “A body has been found.”
She pressed her hand over her mouth, and her sobs nearly broke his heart.
An hour later, at the county morgue, Jake saw the desperation in her eyes, but no way in hell was he letting her see what he’d just witnessed.
“I want to go in there.” Macy tried stepping around him.
Jake caught her, pulling her against him. “The fingerprints will be here soon.”
“And I’ll know if it’s him in two seconds! He’s my brother!”
Jake pulled her back into his chest. “They have to prep the body,” he lied.
She went to the waiting-room love seat and plopped down. Walking over, he ran his hand over her shoulder, but she pulled back. Well, if being angry with him helped her cope, he’d take it.
The door to the waiting room swung open and Donaldson walked in. Jake had called Mark on the drive over. He figured if it was Billy, he’d have his hands full with Macy and her family and wanted someone here in an official capacity to get the details. Jake stepped beside his friend.
Donaldson focused on Macy. “She okay?”
“She’s hurting like hell.” And Jake felt helpless to do anything to help.
Mark lowered his voice. “So, it’s him?”
“We still don’t know. Fingerprints should be here in a few minutes.”
“Couldn’t she ID him?”
“He’s messed up. Bad.” Jake blinked, hoping the image wouldn’t flash again in his head. “I don’t want her seeing that.”
“Has Stan arrived?”
“Haven’t seen him yet. When he does, get everything he knows. At least, everything he can give you.” Jake glanced at Macy, still wrapped in her world of grief. “She doesn’t deserve this.”
“Life can be ugly, can’t it?” Donaldson said. Then: “Oh, by the way, you were right about Brown.”
“Brown?” Jake echoed.
“The guy from the burglary. His kid has cancer. She’s at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center.” Donaldson shook his head. “I made a contribution. Anonymously, so don’t you breathe a word.”
Jake gazed at him. “I wouldn’t have held you to that.”
“Why not?” he half laughed. “I would have held you to the bet if I’d been right. I envisioned it chapping your ass every time you had to bring me breakfast.” He smiled, but the expression faded as the seriousness of the situation chased away levity. “Besides, it’s for a good cause.”
He laced his fingers together. “I spoke to Mr. Brown yesterday. He and his brother were hanging a billboard about the cancer fund. It has a before-and-after picture of his kid. Heartbreaking.”
“Yeah.” Jake made a mental note to send his own donation.
The waiting room doors swung open and Stan walked in. Macy rose up and approached him. “Is it…?”
Jake wrapped his arm around her, prepared for the worst.
“No,” Stan said.
Macy collapsed against Jake. Relief shuddered through him, and he tightened his hold on her.
“Have you ID’d the guy yet?” he asked.
Stan nodded. “It’s Ellie Chandler’s foster brother.”
Macy repositioned her head on Jake’s shoulder. They’d been home for about an hour, in bed for almost as long, but she couldn’t sleep. There was the elation that Billy wasn’t the one laying cold in the morgue. Then there was the guilt for being happy that it was Ellie’s brother and not her own.
“You okay?” Jake’s voice told her he hadn’t been asleep either.
“Yeah.” She inhaled his masculine scent. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For everything. Being here.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He paused. “What’s keeping you awake?”
“Pick a topic,” she said, putting humor in her tone she didn’t feel. “My mom’s belly-button ring, her sudden interest in men, my brother the escaped convict, Ellie’s brother laying dead in the morgue, my happiness that it’s her brother and not mine. Oh yeah, my bills that are due next week and my missed exams.” And the fact that I’m scared about what’s going to happen between us.
“Hmm,” he said. “Sort of a long list.” He pulled her on top of him, then looked into her eyes. “Let’s take one at a time. Your mom’s belly-button ring is a nonissue. It’s a piercing. It’ll heal. And I think her interest in Klein is a good thing.”
He rubbed his palms over her shoulders. “I understand why you’re worried, but as far as we know, Billy is still okay. And as for the fact that you’re happy it wasn’t Billy, you wouldn’t be human if you weren’t relieved.” He pushed a strand of hair from her face. “What’s next?” He paused. “Oh, the bills? I told you I’d loan you money. A loan,” he added quickly. “And if they don’t let you make up the tests, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll figure out something.”
Macy studied him. “Where did you learn to talk through people’s problems?”
“It’s inbred. Part of being a preacher’s son.”
She smiled. “And here I thought all preacher’s boys were hell-raisers and lived just to get into a girl’s pants.”
“I’m that, too.”
They both fell silent. Ten minutes later, Jake was still listening to Macy breathe. Sleep eluded them. He had an idea what might help, but he wasn’t sure if she’d be receptive.
Hell, she’d had a hard night.
“Wanna prove it?” she suddenly asked.
“Prove what?”
“That you can.” She suddenly sounded shy. “Get into a girl’s pants, I mean. I…heard sex is a good sedative.” Her hand shifted down his abdomen, and then up.
He turned to look at her, amused. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“Why didn’t you act on it?” Her fingers continued to stroke him.
“Because I wasn’t sure which head I was thinking with.”
She thumped his chest. “You’re so crass.”
“It’s another trait of a preacher’s son.”
He caught her hand and pushed it into his boxers. She wrapped her hand around his dick. The sweet pleasure of that touch had him catching his breath, but just like that he changed his mind on what he wanted. He pulled her hand out.
“My turn,” he said.
“You know,” she muttered, as he flipped her onto her back. “It seems my turns are always getting cut short.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, well, it’s better to give than to receive.” He pulled her shirt over her head, then slid off her pajama bottoms. “And tonight you deserve to receive.”
He pulled back suddenly. “Something’s not right…. I know!” He bounced off the bed and turned on the light. By the time he got back, she had the sheet pulled up around h
erself.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m naked.”
He grinned. “That’s why I want the lights on.”
She got up, sheet bunched around her bare feet as she went and switched off the light. Then, with the sheet still around her, she traipsed back and fell into the bed.
He considered his options. After a moment he said, “Okay, we’ll compromise.” Reaching over, he turned on his lamp, then dimmed it down.
She frowned. “You can still see me.”
He leaned down and kissed her. “I want to see you.”
“You saw me in the shower this morning,” she insisted, as if once was enough.
“You think I don’t know that’s the reason you kept yourself plastered against me?”
“I thought you liked that.” She pouted just a bit. And damn, she looked sexy with a pout on.
“I did. But now I want to see. Come on, Macy.” He pulled the sheet down. “I promise you’ll like what I’m going to do.”
She grabbed the sheet back up. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to give you a rubdown.”
She held the sheet to her chest. “I thought we were going to have sex.”
“We’re going to do both. Haven’t you heard of massages with happy endings?”
“Crass!” she accused.
He laughed. “Yeah, but it’s good crass.” He reached over for lotion that he kept in his bedside drawer. “Come on.” He leaned down and eased the sheet from her fisted hands. “Relax. Let me make you feel like a million bucks. You’ll sleep like a baby after this.”
She let him pull the sheet off her. He saw her cheeks flush and wanted to laugh. After what they’d done last night and this morning, her blush was unexpected and yet so refreshing. It excited him. She excited him. And he stripped off his boxers so she could see just how much.
Her gaze lowered then bounced back up. He squeezed some lotion into his hands and rubbed them together to warm it, enjoying the view of her naked body stretched out in front of him. “You’re beautiful.”
“No—”
“Shh. You’re not allowed to talk. Just enjoy.” He picked up her left hand and rubbed the lotion into her palm. Moving up her arm, he kneaded the muscles, inch by inch. When he was done with that arm, he took the other. She kept watching him, and every now and then he’d see her eyes move down his chest to his sex. Then, aware he might be watching, she pulled her gaze back up.
Hands and arms done, he squirted another handful of lotion into his palm, warmed it, then spread it across Macy’s abdomen, moving up ever so slowly to her breasts. He toyed with her nipples until they stood erect. Then he moved to her shoulders, rubbing away the tension, but every few seconds he passed one hand back over her nipples, wanting to keep her mind on the pleasure to come.
She sighed. Her intakes of air became deeper, more relaxed.
“If you think this is good, wait until I move below,” he whispered.
After a few more minutes, he inched to the foot of the bed. He picked up one foot, and she squeezed her legs together in shyness. He gently slipped one hand between them. The moment he started massaging the arch of her foot, he felt her relax, and he slowly moved her thighs apart so he could feast his eyes on what lay between.
He finished massaging both of her feet, both calves, and when he got to her thighs, he let his hands occasionally ease inward, toward her moist center. She was ready for him, but he wasn’t finished yet.
“Roll over.”
She didn’t argue.
Slowly, using his hands to relax and arouse at the same time, he worked her over. His hands moved slowly over her perky backside and everything else. Kissing her neck, he told her again how beautiful she was. Then, after rubbing his chest and abs with lotion and donning a condom, he rolled her onto her back.
He covered her body with his. Their bodies came together, sliding, slippery. She wrapped her left leg around him. He brushed her hair from her face. He saw a woman, a purely relaxed woman, but a woman ready to take him into her body. And he was so ready to be there. He slipped into place and entered her.
“Jake,” she whispered, raising her hips to take him deeper.
“Yeah?” He set a slow pace.
“You can look at me naked anytime,” she said.
“Good.”
He laughed, and when she pushed up, taking all of him inside her, he lost it, and the rhythm of their love went from soft to strong, from relaxed to ravenous. Five minutes later Macy fell asleep in his arms, and shortly thereafter he joined her.
Billy sat curled by an oak tree, two houses down from the green-shuttered home where he’d seen Tanks. The only light was a streetlamp down the block, but Billy had been out here long enough that his vision had adjusted.
Closing his eyes, Billy summoned an image of Ellie standing in the moonlight with nothing on. He missed her so much it hurt, but he’d sworn he wouldn’t go back to the beach house. It was for the best. He’d almost called her to make sure she was okay, but he’d decided even that might give her a reason to hope. Ellie Chandler needed to know it was hopeless.
Billy ran his tongue over the inside of his lip. He hadn’t chewed on it, but the temptation was still there. Old habits, he guessed. Feeling the cold weight of the gun pressed against his side, he pulled it out and set it beside him.
He wondered what it would feel like to be shot, to have a bullet rip through your skin and bone. He’d heard once that it didn’t hurt, but after seeing Hal Klein and Brandon take bullets he wasn’t so sure. It couldn’t hurt worse than losing everyone he loved and staying in prison for the rest of his life, however. There were possibly worse fates than dying.
He picked up the gun. He’d never take his own life. He was too much of a coward to do that. But if Tanks didn’t kill him, the cops probably would. What were the odds of him really getting out of this alive? Not good.
Billy’s gut knotted, but not as much as the last time he’d thought about it. Of course, he wasn’t getting braver, just more resigned.
The night felt heavy on his shoulders. He blinked. He hadn’t slept in days. So tired, he thought, but he had to stay awake. He had to wait for Tanks to show up. He had to believe Tanks would show up.
A spray of headlights washed over his hiding place as a car turned onto the street. Billy waited to see where it would go. Slowly, with only the sound of its tires crunching pebbles on the gravel street, the vehicle pulled into the driveway of the green-shuttered house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Four days and nights passed without any more dead bodies or attempts on Macy’s life, and she took some solace in that. Jake worked those days, went with her at night to deliver pizzas. Not that his presence stopped her from being one baby step away from a panic attack; her worry over Billy never went away. Add her growing feelings for Jake, and Macy wasn’t sure how much she could stand.
“Here, try these on.” Nan’s voice echoed behind the dressing-room curtain, and a hand appeared holding two more dresses. Macy took them.
Shopping was supposed to be fun. Not today. This morning, like every morning when Jake left for work, Macy got a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Not because she was going to miss him, though she did, but because in the last few days, she’d suddenly become aware that every time he left for work he might not come back home. Never had the afternoon news, talking about robberies, shootings, and meanness in general, given her so much to worry about.
Macy slipped off her jeans, her brain playing the what-if scenarios it did every morning. What if one of the gang members Jake was visiting had a gun? What if he was called to a break-in in progress? What if Tanks decided to come after the cop who’d put him away?
What if Jake died while eating spaghetti?
What if when the case was over he, like Tom, decided that Macy really didn’t float his boat and he went looking for another pond?
Macy kicked her jeans into the corner of the dressing
room. Of all her fears, the last one was the worst. Wearing nothing but her Skivvies, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Above her left breast she had a love bite, put there by Jake that morning. Touching it, she remembered his immediate response to seeing her in her blue bra.
Even with the really exceptional sex, these last few days had been hard. Hard not to feel guilty for being happy. Hard not to worry about that happiness coming to an abrupt end. It was like waiting for the second shoe to fall—and to fall right into a fresh warm pile of dog poo. No, make that elephant poo!
She’d tried to lose herself in the make-up work her teachers had graciously allowed her to complete. She’d studied on Monday and taken tests on Tuesday, with a bodyguard waiting in the hall. She’d barely passed the tests. How could she think about constitutional law when it felt as if Murphy’s Law was destined to pop up and prove that loving Jake had been a mistake?
“Well? How does it look?” her mom asked, her voice booming into the dressing room. Her mom’s voice seemed to boom a lot lately, no doubt a direct result of seeing Hal.
“Just a minute.” Macy forced herself to pull one of the dresses from the hanger. She wiggled the slinky fabric onto her body and, taking a deep breath, stared at her reflection.
Too tight. Too low. Too short. Too red.
Dress sexy, Jake had said. Why would he want her to dress sexy at his hundred-year-old grandfather’s birthday party?
“Come out and let us see?” Nan called.
Nan had suggested they go shopping for Macy’s new party dress. Macy and the FBI agent were the only ones who’d thought it was a bad idea. Macy was certain the Fed standing outside was going to resign as soon as his shift was over. Her mom actually had the man carrying packages, and she’d sprayed him with different colognes, trying to find the one she wanted to buy Hal.
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