She feared once the police caught the killer Frankie’s interest in her would fade. All evening she’d told herself that was fine. All she wanted was this one night of lust, nothing more. Obviously, just like she’d lied about not being able to get pregnant to Frankie, she lied to herself about what she actually wanted.
He was more than a patient and someone she enjoyed spending a few hours a week with. Frankie had become a good friend, someone she liked spending time with and someone she admired. His strength both emotionally and physically amazed her every day. Sure, he might have times when he got down on himself and felt like the struggle wasn’t worth it, but he usually bounced back.
In her time of need, he’d bounced way back, doing things because of her that she never thought he’d do again. If that wasn’t worthy of her admiration, she didn’t know what was.
That didn’t mean his feelings for her were real, however. Cassie was all too aware of the phenomenon of transference—patients with close contact to their doctors sometimes thought they were falling for the doctor. Since becoming a physical therapist, Frankie wasn’t the first patient of hers to think they had feelings for her beyond friendship. The one difference now was that this was the first time she’d developed feelings for a patient. She had set herself up for heartache in a big way.
If Frankie decided what he felt for her was gratitude for helping him get his life back, his feelings for her would level. Cassie feared his true feeling wasn’t love, no matter how she was starting to feel about him.
The oddly smooth skin of Frankie’s scarred hands rubbed against her back, soothing and comforting. If her mind weren’t so busy, she would probably sleep, allowing herself to be comfortable in his arms. It was one thing to know she should pull away and put an end to things before she made them worse, but it was another to be able to do so. Being with him felt right, even if she knew it would only last a short time.
“There’s something I didn’t mention this morning,” he said softly, his warm breath brushing against her shoulder.
“What’s that?” It would be better to be distracted by him than worry about a future she couldn’t change.
His lips rested against her forehead for a brief second and he hugged her more tightly. “You know about the nightmares that I have. The ones where I relive what happened and hear those kids die all over again.”
Cassie struggled to control her immediate sorrow reaction. She hated thinking about what happened to him in that fire. No matter what she had said to try to help Frankie get past it, she knew he would never forgive himself. “Their deaths weren’t your fault.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged beneath her. “The point is, I’m normally afraid to sleep. The nightmares come all the time. Sometimes it isn’t with the kids. Sometimes it’s Laura screaming at me for putting Thayne in danger and she’ll try to kill me with a knife.”
“Laura?” Cassie propped herself up on her hands so she could look into Frankie’s eyes. She’d never made time to talk to her friend to reassure Frankie, but he needed to know Laura didn’t blame him for anything. “She loves you, Frank. She would never want to hurt you. No matter what you’ve convinced yourself of, Laura thinks of you as family and doesn’t blame you for what happened. If Thayne had spotted the kids in that blaze, he would have charged ahead in front of you. Laura knows that. She’s told me about it many, many times. One of these days, you have to let yourself off the hook for that fire. It wasn’t your fault, and you did the best you could to help those kids. Place the responsibility where it really belongs—the men who started that fire.”
A fleeting grin lifted the corners of Frankie’s lips, showing a hint of dimples. His hand rubbed faster against her back, as though he could calm her with a mere touch.
The thing that surprised Cassie was his touch did indeed make her feel better. Something in it told her that Frankie was trying to forgive himself. One day soon, she figured he’d be able to do so.
“I’m happy to know Laura doesn’t blame me,” he said. “I haven’t had the courage to talk to her about things, but it has been a big worry.”
“Well, stop that. She blames the people who are responsible. Plus, she’s glad Thayne can’t go into fires anymore. Being a medic is safer, and it’s the place where Thayne wants to be. In a way, everything worked out great for them.”
“They aren’t the reason I mentioned the dreams, but I’m glad they’re moving on and happy.”
Cassie laid her head back against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. “Then why?”
“I didn’t have a nightmare last night. The one time I woke up, you were spooning me from behind. Instead of the panic I normally feel upon waking up, I was comfortable. I actually took your hand and fell right back to sleep.” He kissed the top of her head. “Being with you is better than any anti-anxiety pill they put me on. I trust you. Life is better with you in it.”
Cassie’s heart swelled near to bursting. How could this man be so wonderful after everything he’d gone through? If only she could trust he would still feel the same way in a few days, but she feared the worst. She should put an end to things before she truly fell for Frankie and ended up hurt.
After squeezing him tightly, Cassie rolled off the side of his body and met his dark eyes. No matter what her brain told her she should do, her heart said something entirely different. If one night was all she would get with Frankie, she’d make it worth it. “I know of a great way to stop nightmares, lover. Let’s make you too tired to dream.”
She rubbed her hand up his inner thigh and Frankie’s eyes lit with passion as his midsection came back to life.
“Not only beautiful,” he murmured softly, “smart too.”
Chapter Fifteen
Frankie woke slowly, not coming alert all at once as per usual. A warm feeling of happiness settled over him as he watched the grayish darkness of the room lighten to gold with the rising sun.
Next to him, Cassie had stolen all the covers, bundled against his side with only the ends of her hair peeking from the top of the white comforter.
It was an odd sensation. The side of his body that she laid against was too warm while his naked side bare of all covers felt almost too cold.
Not that he would change anything. Cassie had been a wildcat last night. Quite a surprise, really. He never expected to make love to a woman again, let alone three times in the same night. She was insatiable. No matter how many times he made her tremble and shake as an orgasm raced through her, she was up for more. He’d finally had to beg fatigue before she relented, kissing him deeply and then curling against his side to sleep. He wondered if every day with her would be like this.
By now, the sun was fully up. The cops had to have caught the killer, and he and Cassie could think about the future. Although he’d never expected to plan a future after the fire, that seemed not only possible now but probable. He could move out of the rehab center immediately. If Cassie was okay with it, he’d stay at her place, at least until he found something suitable. He knew one night of passion was too early to expect her to commit to him long term, but that didn’t mean a short-term solution to his living situation couldn’t leave them with plenty of time to have more fun.
Maybe somewhere along the way he could make Cassie fall in love with him. He knew it was a lot to ask of any woman, tying herself down to someone who would never be one-hundred percent healthy. After he went through with the hand amputation, things might actually be a bit easier. He had looked at it from the wrong angle before, assuming the world would end when he lost a limb. Now he knew that wasn’t true. Life went on and less pain would free him up for an even better lifestyle. Plus, amazing things were happening with prosthetics these days. Who knew? Maybe he’d be able to get some sort of bionic arm that would function better than his hand used to.
He smiled at the thought of a bionic arm. Was that even possible? Maybe one that would never fatigue and could please Cassie over and over until she begged him to stop. Yeah, that’
d be hot and practical at the same time.
As though his thoughts woke her, Cassie pulled the blanket away from her face. A sweet smile crossed her lips and her wide blue eyes stared at him with as much happiness behind them as Frankie could hope. “Good morning,” she said, scooting up the bed to land a kiss against his mouth. “What are you smiling so big about?”
“Thinking about bionic hands.”
Her eyebrows narrowed. “What? Bionic... I don’t understand.”
Frankie chuckled and pulled her in for another kiss. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I’m just happy. Someone made me very, very happy last night.” He kissed her again softly. “Several times.”
Instead of laughing or perhaps trying to start something up again, Cassie looked away, almost seeming guilty.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head ever so slightly, then finally met his eyes again. “Did we succeed in keeping the dreams away?”
Whatever bothered her, she obviously didn’t want to discuss it. He wouldn’t push. Cassie had been through a lot the past few days. She’d proven how much she wanted to be with him last night, so Frankie wasn’t going to drive himself crazy wondering if it was him she had the problem with.
“The dreams are indeed gone,” he assured her. “All except good ones of repeating last night’s experiences far into the future.”
She shrugged. “We’ll see how far you want to take it.”
Determined not to let her odd behavior bother him, Frankie pushed her against the pillow, shifting his body partially over the top of hers. While stroking the hair at her temple, Frankie leaned in and covered her mouth. He ran his tongue across her lips, satisfied when she let out a soft moan and opened her mouth, her hands running across his back as though they had a mind of their own.
Cassie could try to pretend nothing serious was going on between them all she wanted. Frankie knew the truth. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Whether it was simple lust right now or something deeper, Frankie was confident it could grow.
Just as he was thinking a morning repeat of their nighttime activities was in order, the phone beside the bed pealed out a loud ring.
Cassie pulled away. “It’s probably Detective Rogers. I hope she caught the asshole doing this.”
Nodding, Frankie rolled over and snagged the phone from its cradle, oddly proud that he could get his hand to curl around the body of it enough to lift it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Mr. Hernandez? This is Rogers.”
“It’s her,” Frankie said softly to Cassie. Into the phone he said, “We’ve been anxious to hear from you. How did things go?”
“Unfortunately, they didn’t.”
Frankie’s heart felt like it sank into the pit of his stomach, all his former happiness draining as though Rogers flushed it down a toilet. “What do you mean?”
“We have a problem.”
***
Cassie paced the floor of the hotel room. What had seemed like a luxurious space just minutes earlier now felt confining, almost as though she waited inside a prison to hear when her execution would happen. “What do you mean he never showed up to the house? I did everything you asked and you can’t even—”
“Calm down,” Detective Rogers ordered, raking a hand across her forehead to brush back unkempt strands of curly black hair. “I’ve been awake for thirty-six hours straight working on this case. Your hostility isn’t helping.”
Now fully dressed and upright in his wheelchair, Frankie waved Cassie to his side, patting the bed next to him. “Come sit down. I’m sure Detective Rogers will tell us everything she can.”
Frankie and Rogers weren’t the ones at risk, but Cassie knew she couldn’t take her fears out on the people trying to help her. Clenching and unclenching her hands in succession, she crossed the room and sat on the bed as requested, struggling to take in deep, even breaths. Not certain she wanted to know the answer to her questions, she looked back at the detective. “Did another woman die in my place last night?”
Frankie made a low noise of disapproval in the back of his throat. “None of this is your fault.”
Not looking at him, she kept her eyes squarely on Rogers, challenging the other woman, demanding the truth.
Rogers broke first, looking away. “Another body was found at the east end of Kendall Park an hour ago.”
“And my doorstep?” she demanded. “Did he leave more roses?”
Blowing out a loud breath, Rogers grabbed her cell from her front pocket. “Not on your doorstep.” Flipping through something on the phone, she approached Cassie, holding the device out to her.
Several red roses strewn across dark green grass filled the screen. The words formed by the stems were all the proof she needed that the killer was still after her. Hands trembling, Cassie passed the phone to Frankie.
“Where are you, whore?” he read aloud, before shaking his head and handing the phone back to Rogers. “Cassie, this isn’t your fault. The killer is the only one responsible for these deaths.”
“Sure,” she agreed, all the fight flowing out of her as tears stung the backs of her eyes. “But the cops were supposed to stop him. They can’t help me or any of these other women.” She slipped her hand into Frankie’s, blinking hard as she refused to let fear overcome her. “I’m on my own, I guess.”
Frankie lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it lightly. “You’ll never be alone. You have me.”
“Talk about being a drama queen.” Rogers shook her head. “We aren’t giving up, but you need to stay here for a while longer until we catch this creep. He doesn’t know where you’re hiding or he would have come here last night. Just sit tight and let us handle it.”
Sit tight. Easy enough for Rogers to say, but the longer Cassie was trapped with Frankie, the harder it would be to convince herself she didn’t have real feelings for him.
Beyond the complications of her personal life, sitting tight meant the killer would continue taking out other innocent women in his seemingly mindless pursuit of her.
“Are you going to follow up with the florist?” Cassie asked. “I’m wondering why she thought the woman who ordered the flowers was a stripper. Maybe she frequents the clubs and actually knows, but didn’t want to say that to me. I think it would be worthwhile to double check.”
“A stripper...” Rogers took up pacing the room where Cassie had left off. “I find that kind of hard to believe. These killings are brutal with a whole lot of rage behind them. The faces of the girls are hardly recognizable. I’m sure dancers have to be strong, but that seems like a stretch.”
Cassie looked at Frankie as Rogers continued muttering under her breath, apparently trying to work through the problem presented by a murderous exotic dancer. Lack of sleep must be making the task more difficult, as Cassie was sure the detective would have never talked about the state of the victims’ bodies in front of them if she were running on all cylinders.
Cassie turned to Frankie. “I don’t think that is a big stretch. It’s what we thought before.”
He nodded and then cleared his throat to drawn Rogers’s attention back to them. “Excuse me, Detective, but I believe Cassie has a point. It’s at least a lead, and what else do you have to go on since he somehow figured out Cassie wasn’t home last night? At this point, the killer has put out a lot of flowers. That last message alone must have taken several dozen.”
“Three,” Rogers agreed. “Three dozen red roses last night, plus the four dozen roses given as gifts to the intended victims.”
“They have to be coming from somewhere,” Cassie said, struggling to keep her voice even and reasonable. “A local florist might keep tabs on so many requests for red roses. You should talk to them all, but also ask Tammy at The Flower Shoppe again about who ordered that first bouquet.”
“I’ll run it by my boss,” Rogers finally agreed. “You guys stay here. I’ll let you know as soon as I have any news to report. Whether it’s a dancer or someone w
ith a grudge against Cassie at work, we’ll figure it out. We’ll keep you safe. I’m going to go now. I need a few hours of sleep before our next briefing. I’ll be in touch.”
Without a backward glance, Rogers marched to the door, even forgetting to remind Cassie to lock it behind her this time.
Not that she needed the reminder. After locking it up tight, she returned to the bed, reclaiming Frankie’s hand as she sat down. “Do you think they’ll really follow up with Tammy? Detective Rogers didn’t seem convinced it would lead anywhere.”
“Even if a dancer is who bought the flowers, we said in the beginning she might have been forced into buying them,” he reminded her.
“Exactly,” Cassie agreed. “Or it might be a dancer murdering people. I know Rogers is likely going off murder statistics, and even I’ve been thinking of the killer in terms of a man, but there’s no reason it couldn’t be a woman. I don’t know what I did to piss this person off, but a woman can build up rage just as much as a man.”
“So what are you getting at?” Frankie asked the question but didn’t look particularly curious. He probably knew the answer.
“We can’t wait for Rogers to have her briefing and risk them blowing this lead off. I want to talk to Tammy and then hit the clubs.”
Frankie sighed. “And I thought we could stay in the room all day and have sex.”
Knowing she shouldn’t respond, Cassie couldn’t help but wink. “If you help me do this now, I might be persuaded to give you your wish later.”
Chapter Sixteen
Thayne and Laura stood inside the hotel room, clearly unhappy. Not that Frankie could blame them.
“It’s a bad idea,” Laura said for the fourth time. “If a killer’s after you, you need to stay here like the cops told you.”
Blazing Hotter (Love Under Fire Book 2) Page 13
