She welcomed his weight. From this position she could trace those pronounced cheekbones and see the bits of brown in those near-black eyes.
Her fingertips traveled over his shoulders. When she couldn’t take even the small barrier of his clothes between them one more second, she reached down and stripped the tee off him. Up his torso and gone. Then her hands touched skin. She almost sighed.
Her fingers skimmed old scars. Battle wounds. She learned every angle and line of his chest and back, and he didn’t do anything to stop her. His groan cheered her on. And when her hands came to rest on the elastic waist of his boxers, he lifted his hips, as if urging her to go on.
She’d just decided to dive in when she felt his hands move. Fingers slipped up her waist, under her top. The flimsy cotton proved no match for his strong hands. He had the material bunched up around her neck and then off.
Then his mouth was on her. Licking and kissing. One breast, then the other. Every nerve ending snapped to life. With each pass of his tongue, her hips lifted higher off the mattress to flatten against his erection. He had her thrashing on the bed, her head shifting side to side.
The mix of his mouth and his hands set her whole body on fire. When his hand dipped into her pajama shorts, past her underwear to settle on her heat, she nearly jumped. He was an expert at everything, and this proved to be no exception.
He caressed and her legs tightened against his hips. She wanted him touching her, inside her. She slid her hand down the front of his briefs and cupped his erection. Her fingers moved over him, testing his length, and he groaned in response.
When he lifted off her, she grabbed for his arm, trying to pull him back. “Holt?”
“Condom.” He didn’t go far. Just to the dresser near the door.
She saw him pick something up. As he got closer, she recognized the packet. “You had it in my room?”
“In my hand when I came in.” He shot her the sexiest smile. “I was hopeful.”
Everything about him charmed her. “What about lucky? Do you feel lucky?”
As he ripped open the packet, she slid the elastic band of his briefs down. Rubbed the back of her hand against his erection, touching him until his eyes drifted shut. Then the briefs were off and nothing separated them except her shorts. She kicked them off before he could crawl back up the bed.
When his body slid over hers, the glorious friction had her gasping. Everywhere his body touched hers, something inside her popped to life. With him she felt sexy and free, a little wild and ready to explore.
She took his erection in her hand. Loved the feel of his skin and the warmth of him in her palm. She savored every noise he made, every grunt and every groan. She kept going, pumping her hand until she felt his fingers on her, in her, and her mind went blank. A mass of wild sensations bombarded her.
When he lifted her legs, pushing them farther apart as he moved up her body, she knew it was time to end the anticipation. Everything inside her had tightened and every cell begged for more. She hovered so close and was desperate for him to push her over.
The tip of his erection brushed over her. She didn’t know when he got the condom on, but he did. Then he was pushing inside her. Plunging in and pulling out. The rhythm, each move causing her body to clench in anticipation. Something spun up inside her and she tightened her tiny inner muscles as a way of begging for some relief, and a heavy sigh escaped Holt’s lips.
The sounds of their lovemaking filled the room. The steady click of the leg of the bed against the floor. The mix of their heavy breathing. Somehow she heard that over the hammering of her heart in her ears.
She’d turned into a bundle of cells and nerves, all begging for release. She called out his name as he pushed in deeper. When the tightening turned to pulses, she let go. Didn’t fight it. Her back came off the bed, and her heels dug in. Control abandoned her as her neck strained and she said his name.
Nothing mattered and nothing could touch her. In that moment she was his and when her vision blanked out she let it be true. The strong arms, the warmth of his skin. She fell into it all as the thumping pulses racked her body.
When she finally came down again, she felt him stiffen. His shoulders froze and his hand slipped underneath her to her lower back. He held her tight against him as his body bucked.
They had been loud and sweaty, sexy and full of need. Now in the aftermath, they lay unmoving with her shouldering most of his weight. Not that she minded. The brush of his skin against hers felt better than anything she could imagine.
After a few minutes of quiet he pushed up on his elbows. “You okay?”
She tried to remember if she’d ever felt this good. “Except for the part where my muscles feel like mush and I can’t move.”
“Is that good?”
She skimmed her fingers over his shoulder. “Great, actually.”
“Nice.” He lifted his weight off her and moved to the side, taking her with him. “I’ll take great as an answer.”
Part of her wanted to ask what this meant, if anything. The rest wanted to savor the moment. She put a hand on his chest and snuggled into his side. In this relaxed state exhaustion overtook her.
She expected to drift off to sleep, but one question kept ringing in her head. “Is it always like this for you?”
“This is a first.”
That woke her up. “Which part?”
“I don’t sleep with women on my assignments. Ever. I’m not that type.” She pushed up and looked down at him. Before she could say anything he started talking again. “You don’t believe me.”
“I was actually asking about the violence, but it’s good to know I’m not a number.” Something inside her stomach spun and danced at the idea of meaning more to him than a onetime thing.
“You are not a number. Consider that a guarantee.”
She wanted to ask what she was to him, but she feared the answer and went with something safer. “Do you ever get scared?’
“There is fear on every job. The key is in controlling it.” His fingers slipped through her hair. “Funneling that energy into something positive that will get the job done.”
“The pounding in my head that started with the first attack still hasn’t gone away.” She’d had a constant migraine since everything started happening.
He rubbed a thumb over her temples. “Stress.”
“You get that, too, I guess?”
“Stress? Yeah.” He laughed. “I learned to deal with that early. My dad was a hard guy, career military. Nothing was ever good enough. He met my mom in Hawaii and set down the rules about what he expected and the perfection he demanded from day one.”
She tried to imagine Holt growing up in that. It explained the stubbornness, the born leader type. “Sounds like a tough guy.”
“Others had it much worse.” He swept the hair back off her face. “You did.”
“It’s not a contest.” And if it was, she didn’t really want to win it.
“But it’s a shot of perspective.” He shrugged. “He made it clear he loved the military more than us. That we came second.”
“You’re not him.” For some reason she needed to say that.
“I’d rather talk about you.” His hand snaked down her back, then went lower.
“For the record, what you’re doing there with your fingers is not really talking.” When his hand cupped her butt she almost jumped. “But you should keep doing it.”
“Does that mean I can stay in here tonight?”
She was prepared to offer him much more than that, but she knew he was a loner. He didn’t have serious female relationships. So now was not the time. “For as long as you’re in town, you should plan to be right here.”
“Deal.”
Chapter Thirteen
The news hit the local paper the next morning. The facts were thin, but the story linked Grant’s death to that of a brother and sister in a town a few hours away. A separate story on another page talked about a New Foundations membe
r gone missing and believed drowned in a nearby lake. There wasn’t a photo or any information, but Holt tagged the story, sure this explained the missing dead attacker outside the Noonans’ home.
The paper failed to mention Kelly Noonan was actually alive, which was a good thing, since Connor made sure everyone thought she was dead. She’d been relocated and would soon be given a new identity. Her time in New Foundations would fade into memory, or so everyone at Corcoran hoped. Her time at the camp would only become general knowledge if she chose it, but she was in no condition to make any decision. Cam described her grief as profound.
Holt couldn’t imagine what he’d do if something happened to his sister. Rip down buildings with his bare hands. Lose it completely. He would not accept being shipped off and handled, but then he’d be the type to seek revenge. The nasty type.
The people behind the story ached in very real ways, but the fact that a story existed wreaked havoc with the assignment. This was the kind of story sure to whip people into a frenzy. Get them panicked and create vigilantes. Especially the reference to Lindsey.
The story suggested she’d been questioned. The headline didn’t blare final thoughts about her guilt, but there were enough dots to make a connection. She knew all three people. One died on her property and she discovered the other two. Pieces of her past, when pulled apart, appeared murky.
The story bore the faint touch of someone trying to smear her name. Careful and cautious, but the intended consequences weren’t hard to guess.
Holt slowly lowered the newspaper to the kitchen table with shaking hands. He wanted to shred the thing. Hide the evidence and make sure Lindsey never saw it. She didn’t need the hassle. Not on top of all she’d seen the past few days.
But reality stole that choice from him. She lived in this town. She served coffee to the residents. She chatted with them, lived among them. The gossip would ping from house to house until going anywhere would become difficult for her. She’d be “that” woman. The one people assumed did something wrong even if they couldn’t pinpoint a logical reason why.
Holt wiped a hand through his hair. He tried to think of the right thing to say to encompass his fury and frustration, but nothing came to him.
The coffee cup thudded against the table as Shane put it down and leaned in. “I told you it was bad.”
He had texted that he had news. He forgot to mention that this bordered on the apocalyptic type. “You undersold it.”
“I figured reading it would be bad enough without me broadcasting the details from the car.”
Holt wasn’t so sure. A warning might have helped him prepare Lindsey. But that was just one regret he harbored. “I shouldn’t have called in Carver to the Noonans.”
Shane shook his head. “You needed to so we could have Kelly officially and publicly declared dead. Just as important, you needed to send a message to Simon Falls so that we could bring this showdown between him and Lindsey closer to happening.”
She picked that minute to walk into the room from the small hallway. “Good morning.” Her smile fell as she looked from one man to the other. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do you assume something is?” Other than the fact a new crisis did seem to pop up every two seconds. Holt had been stomping out fires since the moment he arrived.
“Your expression, both of you.” She turned on Holt. “The fact you just answered a question with a question, which seems like a stall tactic.”
The woman did know how to read him. Holt didn’t know if that was good or bad, but he knew he couldn’t put this off. He shoved the newspaper in her general direction. “Here.”
Shane shook his head. “You could warn her first.”
“She can take it.” Man, he hoped he was right about that. Holt had come to assume she could take anything. She listened to bad news and lived through attacks without so much as blinking. He had to hope this didn’t derail her.
She scanned the page, then flipped to read the photo caption below the fold. The whole exercise took about two minutes. She glanced up with a stark look in her eyes. “I am being set up.”
And she understood the facts without having them spelled out to her. That made Holt’s job easier, but the reality didn’t change. Her life and all she knew were about to be turned upside down. “No question.”
“I warned you,” Shane said.
“Who would feed this information to the paper?” She crumpled the page in her hand as she waved it around.
“Someone at the camp, likely Simon Falls. Not on his own but through someone, so he had cover.” The news might implicate others, but Holt knew the intel could be traced back to Simon. He’d keep his hands clean and his name away from the story, but he’d pulled the strings. People had been planting stories this way forever.
“It’s rubbish.” She threw the paper down and stalked around the table and headed for the cabinets. “Certainly people will know that.”
Shane shot Holt a quick look of concern before answering, “People can be fickle in cases like this.”
She turned around with an empty mug in her hands. Held it like a shield in front of her. “What exactly does that mean?”
Shane winced. “Expect the town to turn on you.”
She had to know that was coming. She might not have been raised in the usual way, but small towns had an energy to them. When news spread, it raced around, hitting everyone and then circling back again with new details.
In a place as tiny as Justice, a story like this could feed the gossip mill for weeks. And as more details emerged, and Holt feared they would, the days would get longer and harder for her.
He wanted to spare her. To make things easier, but she deserved the truth. “We think he’s trying to make it difficult for you to live and operate here.”
Her fingers clenched around the sides of the mug. “Fine, I’ll move a few towns away and do my work.”
That might solve some of the immediate social pressure, but she still ignored the bigger picture. “Even without the law enforcement issues, which are very real but can be guided somewhat by Corcoran, I think it’s deeper than that. Simon wants you to come to him.”
She made a face as if she’d tasted something sour. “Why?”
“To stop you. To confront you.” Those were only some of the angles. Holt could think of others. Worse ones. “I have no idea, but this is all too planned. It has the feel of him laying out bread crumbs and waiting for you to follow.”
Shane snorted. “Only in this case the bread crumbs are dead bodies.”
The comment brought the conversation to a slamming halt. Lindsey looked from Shane to Holt. “Is it wrong that part of me wants you guys to shoot this Simon Falls in the head and be done with this?”
Holt shook his head. “No.”
“Not at all,” Shane said at the same time.
Her grip on the mug eased and she set it down on the table. “That’s why I like you two.”
Some of the tension had left her voice, and her mouth no longer fell into a flat line. Holt hoped that meant they were moving in the right direction. Maybe flirting could push her the rest of the way. “Is that the only reason?”
“If so, that’s kind of sad for you,” Shane mumbled under his breath.
“That’s enough of that discussion.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but the ringing stopped her. With a sigh she reached for her cell. “The phone. And it’s work. Why do I think this is bad news?”
Because she was smart. It was one of the many things Holt liked about her. “This could be the start of a series of nasty calls. Be prepared.”
“Let’s see.” She pushed the button and said hello.
The rest of the conversation consisted of her listening and frowning. She tried to break in a few times but seemed to get cut off. She ended with a “fine” and hung up. “Well, it was nasty all right. I just got fired.”
“It’s as if Simon has the bad guy handbook and is working his way through it,” Shane said. “Of
course, he skipped ahead with the whole multiple murders thing.”
Holt watched, waiting to see if she would fold or at least scream. She’d earned the right to do so. When she just stood there gnawing on her lip, he asked the one question he hated but had to know the response to. “Any word from Roger?”
“None.” She exhaled as she dropped down into the chair next to Holt. “What do we do now?”
He liked her spunk. She didn’t suggest hiding or running. She wanted to dig in. All good thoughts, but Holt wanted her here, with a witness at all times, and no trouble. If someone was trying to set her up, giving him more opportunities to do so wasn’t the answer.
He had another plan. One that might force Simon’s hand. “You? Nothing. I’ll take a shot.”
Shane frowned. “At what?”
“Who. Maybe it’s time I see if I can be of greater service to Simon.” The guy hired him and had just given him the “guy” talk. Time to speed up the process and offer him more help than he expected.
“You can do that without breaking cover?” she asked.
Holt smiled at that. “Have some faith in my skills.”
“Don’t blame her,” Shane said. “I was going to ask the same thing.”
That one Holt ignored. “Give me a day and I’ll handle it.”
“How exactly?” She sounded wary as she asked, and her expression looked even more so.
The idea had hit Holt as soon as he saw the paper. Simon wanted to ratchet up the stakes. Then Holt would, as well. “I’m thinking a pretend breakup may be just the thing for our made-up relationship.”
For a second no one said anything, and then the anxiety that had been pulsing off Lindsey disappeared. She didn’t smile, but she did look amused.
“That makes me pretend sad,” she said in a fake crying voice.
“Not half as sad as I am that you won’t be serving me coffee anymore.” Losing the opportunity to watch her walk around and see that bright welcoming grin made Holt want to kick Simon’s butt even harder.
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