by Marie Jermy
“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to turn us into ghosts. Either that or get a ticket for speeding.” She clutched the seatbelt tighter when Ross pressed the accelerator down to the floor another inch. “You killed Harknett. Shot him in the head. You know you did. So when you saw him last night, you knew you were seeing a ghost.”
“Bull!” he said, harshly. “Like you said, it was somebody in a latex mask. Either that or the bullet I lodged into Harknett’s brain didn’t kill him. He fell into some sort of suspended animation and woke up in the morgue. Decided he didn’t like the accommodation and checked out.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do. And as for the latex mask, I lied. But I’m not lying now. I’m being straight.” Jessica looked across at Ross. The tension in his square jaw was abating. “Why did you ask Rafferty about camera footage at the bar?”
“I thought it would help in identifying whoever saw you take that BlackBerry.”
“Only two people saw that, Ross. You and Harknett.” Ross gave a loud snort, so she changed the subject. Well, sort of. “I didn’t get a lot out of Rafferty. He’s very tight-lipped about his life. Not that I gave much away about mine when he asked me. I think he knows anyway. Knows about you, too. I find him odd.”
He stopped at a red light and turned to her. “What do you mean odd?”
“Odd. Creepy. Cold. There’s something about him that’s not…He’s breathing, yet he’s not alive.” Though his lips quirked, she noticed Ross was listening with interest. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think he’s a ghost…I mean, not a ghost as in dead, but a…You know, like a see-all-know-all shadow. He can blend into the background then reappear when necessary. I once called him a jerk, but he’s not, he’s smart.”
“I still don’t believe in ghosts.”
“So what was that ‘walking through walls’ crack about then? Is that how he scared the crap out of you last night, by walking through a wall?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “I know exactly what he does. He transfers from precinct to precinct, assigned to investigating specialized cases. I have a name for detectives like him. A floater.”
“Like a dead body?” she asked innocently.
* * * *
Ross mentally planted his foot up his ass. His hand was on the gearshift by her knee, and as Jessica rested hers on top, entwining her fingers through his, the amber flecks in her eyes glowing, he felt another barrier slipping. Not to mention a growing hardness in his jeans. Time to nip this in the bud. “Jessica, I promise you I’ll do everything to protect you, even if it means standing in front of a bullet. But I meant what I said before. We’re just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.” He went to pull his hand away, but her fingers tightened around his. “Jessica…”
“Yes?”
Her tone was throaty. Instantly, the already small space between them seemed to shrink further, and the air became heavy and charged. With sex. Ross let rip with a silent stream of curses. He had to stay focused and remember the bullshit that had come out of his mouth only five seconds earlier. The “we’re just friends” bullshit, that is.
But how could they be just friends when they’d already crossed the line into lovers?
No, he had to remember and concentrate on his vow to protect her. And not the sort of protection that evoked images of tangled sheets and sweaty, sated bodies, either. A horn sounded behind them. Silently, he removed her hand and pulled away, keeping his attention firmly on the road and not on the uncomfortable throbbing in his jeans. Or the ache in his chest.
Jessica swore. She shifted lower in her seat and removed the BlackBerry from the inner pocket of his blazer that she wore. “Do you think Rafferty knows about this?”
“I’d like to say no,” Ross replied, doing a damned good job, even if he did say so himself, of ignoring how her dress had ridden up to midthigh. “But, like you said, he’s smart. I can’t work out whose side he’s on. I mean, he says he’s on ours. He’s a cop, a real, honest-to-God good cop. And yet, I don’t trust him. There’s something about him that’s not right. And I don’t mean his poor circulation, either.”
He slid her a “ghost-my-ass” look. “Also, that BlackBerry bothers me. I think there’s something going on here, something bigger than drug trafficking. I just don’t know what.”
“We crack the password and maybe we’ll find out.”
“Maybe.” Ross fell silent, just concentrating on driving and not the brushing of his hand against Jessica’s knee every time he changed gear for the slowing traffic in front of them. Every sense was on high alert. He swore blind he could feel and hear every breath she took, her heart beating in time with his. As one.
He rolled down the window. The cooling breeze did little to alleviate the electricity that still zapped between them like an impending thunderstorm. He found a CD in the door pocket, one that he’d recorded for her of her favorite 1980s songs, and inserted it into the CD player-radio. The first track—Alice Cooper’s “Poison”— only fuelled his fire. He went to switch to a radio station, but she swatted his hand away.
“No, leave it. You know I love this song.”
Jessica began singing, and Ross clenched his jaw until he felt sure it would crack.
Those lyrics were sweet torture, and no truer words. Sweat popped up on his brow and he gripped the steering wheel harder. His blood roared through his veins, and his growing cock throbbed for release. Didn’t she realize he was skirting the edge of control? Both on and off the road?
“So, Ross, where’s this place you’re hiding me? You know the one that’s the last place on earth that anybody, alive or dead, will even think of looking for me.”
Her abrupt change of subject caught Ross by surprise. Fortunately, it also halted him from making a spectacular mess in his jeans. He uttered a silent prayer of thanks and then glanced in her direction. “Can’t you guess, Jessica?”
* * * *
Jessica felt her stomach bubble with unease at Ross’s mocking grin. She couldn’t keep up with his abrupt changes in mood. First he told her they were friends not lovers, then he behaved as though he wanted to ram home the point that she was his woman, and his alone. And moments before, she’d been close to orgasm from watching his reactions to her singing. He’d appeared to have been on the verge of orgasm, too. Now, all she wanted to do was run away and hide. From him. Which was ridiculous. There was no other man she’d rather be with. And this hiding place would, without doubt, be safe. So why did she feel so uneasy?
The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge loomed up. She knew where he was taking her. Yes, it was the last place on earth anybody would look for her, but it was also the last place she wanted to be.
“Ross, don’t yank my chain. Tell me we’re not going to Senator Williamson’s drafty mansion?”
* * * *
Rafferty removed his cell phone from his inside jacket pocket and punched one of the speed dial buttons. It was answered after one ring. “It’s me. We’ve got a problem.”
The tone from the man on the end of the line suggested he was laughing. “Charlie’s pissed ’cause not only are you still screwing his wife, but you’ve been asked to take his position at the Federation? Could have been worse. They could’ve asked me. Just think of all those rattling closets.”
Rafferty allowed a brief, wry smile. “We’ve not only lost Harknett, but his associate as well. Oh, and if that isn’t bad enough, Detective Anderson doesn’t trust me.”
“Where’s Jessica? Is she safe?”
“She’s with Anderson, so yeah, she’s safe. He’s going to hide her somewhere, and as he put it, it’s going to be the last place on earth anybody, alive or dead, will look for her.”
“Don’t s’pose you know where?”
Rafferty stared at the intermittent blinking dot on the open palmtop in front of him. “As a matter of fact, I do. And you know what that means. If I know, chances are Harknett knows, too. I’ve given Anderson my piece, but he still refuses to be
lieve what he’s dealing with. I’m not convinced he’s right for the Federation. I mean, if he doesn’t believe then—” He was interrupted.
“Where are they?”
“As I was saying, if he doesn’t believe, then how can he fight—” Again, he was interrupted.
“Where the fuck are they!”
He inhaled and exhaled a deep, long breath before answering. “The Magnum Investigations’ office.”
“You need help. I’ll meet you there.”
“No! I can handle this. You stay where you—” The dial tone snarled in his ear. Exasperated, Rafferty swore and threw his cell phone across the office. He stared at the now static dot. Then, rising to his feet, he retrieved his phone and strode from his office. Time to turn a nonbeliever into a believer.
Chapter 11
Ross did not yank Jessica’s chain. He really did take her to Senator Williamson’s drafty mansion.
Despite an impressive view of ocean swells glinting like millions of diamonds in the midafternoon sun and the cheerful sound of tweeting birds, the gray-brick house still gave Jessica the creeps.
“Ross, this is crazy,” she said for the umpteenth time since their arrival. “Somebody is going to see. And the alarm will go off.” As usual though, he ignored her and carried on using a Swiss Army knife, sliding the penknife blade between the frame and the catch on a ground-floor sash window and jiggling it until the catch popped.
He grinned as he returned his knife to his back pocket and slid the window up. The harsh, grating sound it made set her teeth on edge. “Nobody can see. The driveway is at least half a mile long and covered by trees. I also know for a fact the alarm system is years out-of-date and doesn’t work.”
“And how do you know that?”
“The security intercom box on the front gate? Its wires were rusty and not connected properly. How else do you explain how I managed to open the gates and drive up here without anybody asking for my name, rank, and badge number?”
“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” she argued. “It still could be alarmed.”
“Do you hear any bells?” he asked impatiently as she caught hold of his arm, preventing him from entering the house. “Trust me, Jess, there’s no alarm. Silent or otherwise.” He started to climb through, but again Jessica caught his arm.
“Okay, what about if somebody shows up? Like Williamson’s family. Or a member of staff.”
“They won’t. I checked.” He huffed at her doubtful expression. “Mrs. Williamson’s in heaven. Senator Williamson’s in jail. They had no children, and there is no record of any living relatives. They dismissed the staff months ago because they couldn’t afford to keep them on. Satisfied?” He climbed through, then extended his hand and helped Jessica inside. “Nice,” he murmured at the large rug in the middle of the floor, its bold design of red, orange, and yellow squares adding spice and warmth to the spacious, yet sparsely furnished, living room. “So where did Mrs. Williamson meet her maker?”
“Just outside Williamson’s study at the rear of the house.” Jessica shivered as she followed Ross through to the entrance hall and stood at the bottom of the wide, oak-carved staircase. The circular, stained-glass dome above threw splashes of color across the black-and-white tiled floor. She shivered again and pulled Ross’s blazer tightly around her body. “This place gives me the creeps.”
“How so?” Ross asked as he admired one of the small bronze figurines on either side of the staircase.
“It’s cold and drafty.”
“Considering it’s pushing ninety degrees outside, be grateful.”
“It’s probably haunted, too.” Ross rolled his eyes, so she poked him in the chest. “Stop doing that. You know they exist. You’ve seen one.”
“Jess, the day I believe in ghosts will be the day I shake hands with Sam Carrick.” He must have noticed the weird look she gave him at the mention of Carrick’s name because his eyes narrowed a fraction, but then he shrugged and said, “Can I leave you alone for a minute without having to worry you’re gonna scream your head off at meeting Casper? I’ve left the backpack in the car.”
“Casper’s a friendly ghost. And I think we could do with him on our side.”
Again, Ross rolled his eyes. It only took him a minute to go and get the backpack. Her back to him, Jessica was examining the same figurine he’d admired when she heard him come right up behind her. He then shouted, “Boo!” She jumped so high it was a wonder her head didn’t hit the glass of the dome above.
His laughter died when she turned around, her face drained of color. He added color with some specially chosen curses, then gathered her in his arms and, under the blazer, soothingly ran his hands up and down her back. “I’m sorry. That was incredibly immature of me. Go on, call me a moron.”
“Moron.” Jessica inhaled and exhaled a deep, calming breath, then locked eyes with Ross. Those sky-blue depths were filled with mirth, concern, love, and lust. Particularly lust. Heat radiated from him in waves, penetrating the fabric of her dress, soaking right through her skin and into her bones. She felt sure if it weren’t for his firm hold, she would have melted into a puddle at his feet.
Apart from his highly aroused state, the evidence of which was pressed into her belly, she sensed the battle within him. The vow he’d made to keep her safe was obviously overriding every natural instinct to make love to her. She understood that, even agreed with it, yet at the same time, every one of her instincts screamed at him to say the hell with it and take her right there and then. Her pussy clenched and dripped with the mere thought of it.
Ross’s eyes then began to cloud over. He was pulling away from her. Quickly concluding they’d have to be extremely unlucky for something to happen in the next few minutes—other than bone-jarring, frantic sex—she wound her arms around his neck and tugged his mouth down to hers. She kissed him fiercely, her tongue bold and rash, the tension twisting and coiling in her pussy exploding with frustration when he clamped his hands around her wrists and pushed her away.
She hit him then with a good, solid punch to the nose.
For a second, surprise glinted in his eyes before they blazed with the same naked hunger she’d seen earlier. The next second, he had yanked her back into his arms.
“You want it? You’ve got it!” His lips crashed down onto hers, his tongue dueling wildly with hers.
Jessica reached for and lowered his jeans zipper, forcing a low, guttural groan from him as she freed his cock and curled her fingers around the swollen shaft. Impossibly, he grew harder as she pumped him. She grazed the thumb of her other hand over the plump head, smearing the pearl of pre-cum that had accumulated in the slit.
With another groan, Ross tore his mouth away, and, before she could complain, he spun her around and lowered them to kneel on the stairs, shoving her dress up to her waist in the same motion.
“I want to be in you. Now.”
“Oh, yes,” Jessica whispered, her own urgency blocking out the hard wood beneath her knees. She heard the tearing of foil as he sheathed himself, then felt the roughness of denim against the back of her thighs as he surged into her pussy from behind.
The length and girth of his hard cock, the way he stretched and filled her felt so friggin’ good she couldn’t help but cry out. She placed her hands on the stair in front of her while he slid his right arm around her waist, anchoring her to him. His left hand he braced beside hers.
Then he began to thrust, his dynamic strokes rubbing the highly sensitized front wall of her dripping pussy as she matched his confident rhythm, bucking her hips against him, taking him deeper.
Her breathing quickened, and that sweet friction increased when Jessica felt the fingers of the arm around her waist homing in on her clit. One brush was enough to send her over the edge, her cries sweet, her muscles clamping his cock so hard she was afraid she might have bruised him.
Ross didn’t stop though and continued to pound into her pussy from behind while working her with his fingers to the front. Ju
st when she thought she couldn’t bear it any longer—the wood was really hurting her knees now—he grew still, then with a primal roar released himself into her, his scorching-hot cum creating tiny fizzles of extra pleasure within her pussy.
His left hand braced beside hers shook slightly as he leaned over her, molding his body against the curve of her back, his breathing coming out in uneven pants near her ear.
“Sweet heaven, Jess. You really know how to undo me.”
She smiled and wiggled her ass, liking the sound of his low growl.
“You’re gonna be the death of us.”
“But what a way to go.”
Ross chuckled then, his laughter easing the tension he felt for dropping his guard and taking Jessica every which way on the stairs. Because it felt more pleasurable than the last time he’d buried himself inside her, he withdrew slowly. Then he saw the reason why. “Oh, fuck!”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What’s up?”
“The condom. It’s split.” Ross backed away completely and stood up, staring at the latex, torn from tip to base, with a growing sense that this failure to protect Jessica was only the beginning. “Please tell me you’re on the pill.”
She shook her head. “No. But don’t worry. I’m more than halfway through my cycle.”
He passed his free hand over his mouth, relieved, yet at the same time disappointed. Whoa! Disappointed? Things were sticky enough between them without adding a baby to the madness. “I swear, Jess, I won’t fail you again.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” She approached him and placed her hand on his arm. “You haven’t failed me, Ross. If anything, I’ve failed you. If I’d been honest with you from the start, we wouldn’t be in this mess, and I wouldn’t have lost the best thing in my life. You. Ross, I love you. And I know I’ve hurt you, but can’t we try again when this is all over with? And I don’t mean only as friends. I mean us. Us as a couple. A relationship.”
