Killer Score (The Irish Garda Files Book 2)

by Melinda Colt

  He stepped under the hot jet and actively fought to suppress a groan of pleasure. The water was a soothing balm easing away all of his aches, gently massaging and relaxing his tense muscles. He would have preferred a more powerful massage though. What if he asked Chelsea to give him a rub down? No, she was more tired than he was. Perhaps he should offer to give her a massage, but the thought of touching that smooth, creamy skin made him harden. He couldn’t get close to her without wanting to fuck her, it was impossible. The only thing he could do was keep his distance for now and focus on the case.

  In the back of his mind an unwanted thought sparked. Once they caught Aideen, Chelsea would return to her own home. There would be no more of her clothes neatly arranged in a corner of his dresser, no more of her sexy-scented shower gel, no more blond hairs in her cherry-colored hairbrush that looked so good on his bathroom shelf. He shook his head, droplets flying all over from his wet hair. He was too tired to analyze these thoughts right now.

  After he scrubbed and shampooed, he got out of the shower and toweled off. He dressed in clean clothes, then brushed his teeth. Back in the living room, he found Chelsea munching a cookie. He’d been right about the chocolate. She looked better.

  Seeing him, she smiled. “My turn?”

  “Yep.”

  He nodded, returning her smile.

  Chelsea finished her cookie, then gently scooped Kieran into her arms and lowered him from her lap to the couch. The cat gave a small protesting meow, then opened his eyes and looked around. Yawning, he stretched from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. Chelsea stood and placed the cookies on the coffee table.

  “I left some for you,” she said, winking at Evan as she walked past him to the bedroom.

  He sat in the spot she’d just left. It was warm, her scent still lingering in the air, something sexy and bold, just like the woman who wore it. It amazed him how many layers there were to her, from the brilliant, award-winning psychologist, to the hot, playful goddess dressed in tight black leather, and the vulnerable woman who’d sat here moments before, probably feeling helpless and even a little afraid. Who could blame her? It must be terrifying to have an obsessed maniac killing women just because they looked like you.

  Evan believed Aideen was acting out a scenario when she killed Shannon and Jenny. In her mind, she was killing Chelsea, again and again. Maybe she was practicing until she reached her true target. That wasn’t going to happen—not as long as he was alive.

  They had the motive, the evidence, the killer’s identity—all they had to do was find her. Easier said than done. Evan scratched Kieran’s belly meditatively, barely noticing the cat was playfully clawing at his hand to stop it from tickling him. He was too busy considering the aces up his sleeve. Reaching for his laptop, he got to work.

  His first order of business was to browse through O’Bannion’s social media accounts, searching for a clue as to where she would go if she were on the run. He would start with her blog and work his way through all of her rants, even if it took days. The key to her location could be in that sea of words.

  He accessed the account in her name, but then changed his mind and switched to Black Dawn. This was Aideen’s alter ego, the dark side of the moon. Black Dawn was the killer. He started to browse her public posts. He noticed she never referred to anyone by name whenever she ranted about someone, just made it look like trash-talk in general. She was blatantly misogynistic, despite the fact that she was a woman herself. Evan realized this was why he’d assumed Black Dawn was a man. In his experience men were way more misogynistic than women. But this was no ordinary woman.

  She also posted plenty of pictures and sketches, and sometimes quotes from authors or poets—always dark, wordy literature, the type of scribbles that condemned and criticized everything but never came up with a solution.

  There were only a few photos that looked as though she’d taken them herself, closeups of green, leafy backgrounds, blackberries, bees. There was one of a stone wall against a dramatic cloudy sky. The wall was cracked here and there. In the small crevices grew patches of moss. Where was this place? Maybe Chelsea would recognize some of these locations. Perhaps—

  His thoughts trailed off as she padded into the living room, barefoot. She was wrapped in a towel that reached mid-thigh and wore another one wrapped around her head. The baby blue color of both towels made her eyes look unearthly beautiful, her rosy skin so soft and creamy it was mouthwatering.

  “Do you by chance have a hair dryer?” she asked, mouth twisted in a skeptical smile.

  He set the laptop aside and stood, scratching his head. Did he have a hair dryer? No, damn it. He raked his fingers through his own short crop. He didn’t need one, and it had never occurred to him someone else would. Not in his home.

  “I’m afraid not. I could… Go and buy one,” he heard himself say.

  Chelsea burst into laughter. “Ah, Yank, you can be so sweet when you want to. No worries, I’ll just towel-dry my hair.”

  She looked around, then she walked over, grabbed a cushion from the sofa and took it next to the old-fashioned cast iron radiator. Curling up on the cushion, she took off the towel from her head and shook her wet hair loose.

  Evan’s mouth went dry as he watched her rub her hair gently with the towel. How was he supposed to keep his hands off this woman? Even though the bath sheet covered most of her body in her curled up position, he could still see skin. The curves of her breasts strained the edge of the towel, and her nipples made slight indentations beneath it. He imagined what was beyond the blue cotton. Was she wearing anything? Panties? She couldn’t be. She was right out of the shower. The soles of her feet looked as silky as a newborn’s. He desperately longed to brush his fingers over them. Or better yet, his lips.

  “What are you working on?” she asked, giving him a sideways glance as she turned her head to one side, using her fingers to untangle her wet hair.

  “Huh?”

  She pointed to the laptop next to him.

  “Oh, that.” Evan reached out to turn the screen toward her. “I was looking through O’Bannion’s social media, the one she has as Black Dawn. I’m hoping we can find a clue regarding her current whereabouts. Do you know where this place is?”

  Grabbing the laptop, he moved to sit next to her near the radiator. It was a sweet challenge he simply couldn’t resist.

  Chelsea lowered her hands and brushed her hair aside, staring at the screen. It was the picture with the stone wall. She frowned, gazing intently at the photo.

  “I think it’s Glasnevin Cemetery.” Instinctively, she reached out to touch the screen. “Yes, that’s it. I know this place. My mother’s buried there.”

  Evan never knew what to say in these situations. As one who’d lost loved ones though, he knew what he hated to hear from people—which was basically everything. Stuff like ‘they’re in a better place’, ‘you’ll understand why this happened one day’, ‘they’re watching you from Heaven’, and similar clichés angered instead of comforting him. He could only imagine what Chelsea had been through as a child whose mother had committed suicide. He’d glimpsed the surface of her trauma when he’d learned she’d written a book about schizophrenia, a book she’d told him she’d researched for years.

  Instead of words, he took her hand into his and squeezed it. He hoped she would sense what he wanted to convey, and when she squeezed his fingers in return, he knew she had. In an easy, natural movement, she leaned into him, supporting her head against his shoulder. Evan was too hot sitting with his back against the radiator, but he would have stayed like that forever, with her by his side. Even his breathing slowed because he didn’t want to do anything to ruin this moment.

  Chelsea looked up at his profile, her cheek still pressed against his shoulder.

  “If we were hoping this was a clue, we flunked. She couldn’t possibly live in a cemetery for days, especially at the beginning of winter.”

  “Yeah.”

  Her hair was half dry no
w. Evan could smell her shampoo, a citrusy whiff that filled his nostrils every time she moved.

  “Do you think we’ll ever find her, Evan? Honestly.”

  “Yes.” He answered with all the resolve he felt. “I’ll keep digging until I draw her out. I won’t stop until I find her. And in the meantime, no matter what, I’ll keep you safe.”

  He turned to her and cupped her cheeks between his palms, staring deep into those haunted, amethyst eyes. The utter trust he saw in them gave him wings. As she moistened her lips, he saw something else, something that matched his own yearning.

  He fought with his conscience a moment longer, willing himself to lose. Why did they have to restrain themselves? He felt she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So what was to stop them from acting on it? Chelsea was no Mandi Klein, and he’d been an idiot not to realize that from the beginning. They both had issues, the timing was wrong, they were on a manhunt for a killer, but all that was part of being a cop. Since Chelsea was helping the Garda, he considered her one too. Cops had personal lives, had needs and desires. They risked their lives more than the average people. Didn’t that mean they should enjoy the good moments even more?

  Evan looked into her eyes, searching for the answer. When her eyelids lowered and she lifted her mouth to his, he knew he was right. In one fluid motion he lowered his mouth to hers, then lost himself in her sweet, sweet taste.

  Chapter Twenty

  Chelsea abandoned herself to the depth of their kiss. Evan’s mouth was hot and demanding, his lips soft, his tongue bold. She was melting from the inside out. Never had she experienced such powerful desire, such a magnetic attraction toward another. If she’d thought he was sexy before, now, with their mouths melded together, she knew he was dynamite. As his hands lowered to her waist and he drew her closer to him, she stopped thinking altogether. She could only feel.

  She angled her body to press against his, unable to get close enough. As they shifted into a more intimate embrace, continuing to kiss fervently, she felt her towel slide off little by little. It was bliss to have Evan’s hands on her bare back, cupping her bare hips. Her self-control slipped along with the damp fabric.

  As though he shared her feelings, Evan drew his mouth away, breathing hard. He gazed at her intently, his brown eyes smoky, arousal dilating his pupils.

  She sensed he was about to say something, maybe to ask her if she was sure about this. It would have been wasted time and breath. She’d wanted him since the first time she’d seen him. Wordlessly, she drew his mouth back to hers, burying her fingers in his hair, grazing her teeth over his full lower lip.

  He cupped her breast, and she gasped in glorious pleasure. Her nipple tightened under his touch, and she arched her back, aching for more. When his mouth lowered to the sensitive skin of her neck, she had the impression she was getting dizzy. She let herself fall back onto the thick, fluffy carpet, pulling Evan down with her. He supported himself on his hands, his body hot and hard above hers.

  “Not here,” he whispered against her lips. “Let me take you to bed. I want this to be perfect.”

  He pushed himself up and drew her with him, then fluidly swept her up into his arms. Chelsea didn’t have time to become self-conscious because she was naked, while he was fully dressed.

  Within moments, they were in the bedroom, and he laid her on the bed. Her gentle, sexy, mouth-watering giant… She reached for him and pulled him down onto the soft cotton sheets. She almost ripped his T-shirt in her desperation to take it off and run her hands over his magnificent chest, rounded pecs, and tight abs. She reached lower, her searching fingers making him moan.

  With a few agile movements, he was naked. Desire made his body shiver as he lowered himself on top of her. She sensed he didn’t want to rush, but the temptation was too strong, the need too powerful. They had waited too long for this, and now it was too late to take their time. In unison they moved, one smooth thrust embedding him inside her, hard and deep. Chelsea’s cry of satisfaction mixed with his own gruff gasp. They abandoned themselves to each other, moving in a rhythm that was both hungry and tender. As they clung tightly to each other, their mouths sipping one another, Chelsea realized this man was all she’d ever wanted. If he was willing to let her, she’d become all he’d ever wanted, too.

  A star exploding couldn’t have been more earth-shattering than the orgasm they shared, gasping for breath, unwilling to let go. Chelsea wanted to stay like this forever, with him securely inside her, her arms tightly wrapped around him, his face resting against her neck. A thin layer of sweat made his back glisten as it rose and fell in the rhythm of his rapid breathing. Tiny shivers ran through her and into him, making their connection even stronger. Because this hadn’t been only sex—it had been making love.

  But as the haze of lust and release began to fade, doubt crept up on her. What if this connection was only in her mind because she wanted it so much? Was she reading too much into what had just happened? She wished she had more experience with men. It was amazing that she could read a stranger so well, yet she wasn’t perceptive enough when she was close to the person she was trying to decipher.

  Evan raised his head slowly. Her heart warmed as she saw his eyes charged with burning tenderness. She’d been right. He cared about her, perhaps more than she’d imagined.

  Her hand seemed to weigh a ton, but she lifted it to stroke his cheek. He closed his eyes, then turned his face and kissed her palm softly. Chelsea smiled, tracing the line of his cheekbone, then his jaw, which felt like sandpaper because of his five o’clock shadow. She knew most men weren’t into post-coital chatting, and she was fine with that. She didn’t know what to say anyway. She guided his head onto her chest and drew up the duvet to cover them both. It was an incredibly powerful feeling to have this large, strong man reduced to a loving child as he held her close, his cheek curved in a smile and resting on her breast. This simple togetherness filled her with happiness. It was a bit uncomfortable to have his full weight on top of her, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t want to do anything to spoil this moment, so she just basked in his closeness, a smile lingering on her face.

  They lay like that, listening to the rain that pattered on the pavement outside. Streetlight filtered through the window, adding a silvery glow to the slice of light coming through the open bedroom door. This space was warm and cozy, the semi-darkness sexy and intimate. The worries and horrors of the past days seemed far away, locked outside, washed away by the falling drops.

  Evan’s breathing had slowed down, as had hers. She thought he was asleep or about to doze off when he spoke, his voice soft and low.

  “How come a woman like you is still single?”

  She gave a soft laugh. “You’ll have to explain what you mean by a woman like me.”

  He lifted his head, then shifted their bodies so that she lay on top of him. “Gorgeous, sexy, smart, independent, successful, sensitive… I could go on, but I don’t want to sound like an adoring, pussy-whipped puppy.”

  She joined in his laughter, her cheeks growing warm from his praises.

  “Wow, I don’t even know what to say. I suppose thank you is the first thing that comes to mind, although I can’t honestly say I feel I am all those things.”

  “That’s how I see you.”

  “That’s why I said thank you and meant it,” she said, kissing his bare chest. “To answer your question, I guess I never found a man with whom I felt completely compatible. After a certain age one becomes more selective, more demanding. I’ve always thought it’s only fair in a relationship that each partner gives as good as they get. I’ve never had a relationship where I felt this balance was fulfilled. Sometimes the man didn’t live up to my expectations, other times I was the one who lacked something to prevent that compatibility.” She traced circles absently on his chest, watching the fine hairs swirl under her touch. “When I was younger, I dreamed of a crazy, passionate love story—like most women. The difference is, while most women outgrow this fantasy, I nev
er did.” She smiled up at him.

  He grinned, his teeth glinting white in the dim light. “Do you still believe in Prince Charming?”

  “Now more than ever.”

  Evan’s expression showed he was pleased with her answer. He cupped the back of her head and drew her close for a slow, deep kiss. Chelsea didn’t want to stop, but she needed to ask her own questions. Gently, she pulled away, keeping her head on his shoulder, far enough so she could see his face.

  “What about you, Evan? How come you’re still a bachelor?”

  He gazed out the window and shrugged lightly, pulling the duvet higher to cover her back. Chelsea found the gesture thoughtful and endearing.

  “I guess for the same reasons as you. I’ve never found that special someone to make me want to stay forever. In all fairness, I didn’t search for her. I focused on my career to the detriment of my personal life.”

  “Didn’t you feel lonely?”

  He took her hand and linked his fingers with hers, gazing at their united hands with perhaps exaggerated attention.

  “They say you can’t miss something you’ve never had. I don’t know if I was lonely before, but now I’d feel damn lonely without you.”

  As their eyes met, Chelsea swallowed. She fought hard not to let her eyes go misty with tears. His confession was more precious than if he’d said a dozen times ‘I love you’ and brought her a zillion roses.

  She smiled, showing him how much she appreciated his words and the meaning behind them. She wanted him to know she’d understood what he meant. It was premature to declare undying love for one another, but for the first time in her life she glimpsed the future of that promise in his eyes.

  “I’m glad I didn’t give up my fairytale dream,” she whispered against his lips, then pressed her mouth hotly to his, almost purring when his strong arms claimed her possessively.