by Jo Davis
“Wine sounds good, whatever’s open.”
She sat while he opened a bottle of Cabernet for them. After turning down the oven to warm, he slid the vegetables in and then poured them each a glass. He went into the living room and handed her one, taking a seat beside her on the sofa as he proposed a toast.
“To the future, whatever it may bring.”
Her lips curved up. “I’ll drink to that.”
Taking a sip, he set his glass aside. He was really more of a beer guy, but he wasn’t about to complain. “How did you spend your day off?”
“After I took Maddy to school, I did some shopping, then came home and went for a run. Then I did some laundry, caught up on a good thriller I’ve been neglecting, and took a nap. Pretty pathetic, huh?”
“Actually, that sounds really good. Next time maybe we can run together,” he suggested.
She brightened. “I’d like that. I should’ve thought of it before.”
“Then it’s a date.” He refused to think he couldn’t handle a run.
He studied her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. The auburn hair falling around her shoulders, those blue eyes staring back with such emotion in them. She had on a pink cotton pullover shirt and a pair of soft, faded jeans that hugged her figure without being too tight.
“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly. He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek.
“I haven’t felt that way in a long time.” She paused, leaning into his touch. “But you’ve changed that.”
“I’m glad, because it’s true. And I don’t mean just on the outside. You’re a gorgeous person, Robyn, inside and out. The way you love Maddy, and how you care for your patients. You’re simply amazing.”
A pained expression crossed her features, and he frowned. “Hey, what’s that for?”
She wasn’t looking at him, her voice a murmur. “Amazing isn’t the word I’d use to describe myself. I’ve got a lot of sins to make up for.”
Something unpleasant lodged behind his sternum. “What do you mean?”
Raising her head, she looked up at him, shadows in her stunning eyes. “Never mind. I want to forget about the past tonight. I just want to be with you.”
“Will you tell me someday?”
She nodded. “One day.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
He tried not to be stung, to think she didn’t trust him with her secrets. Deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. She was fighting her own demons, and it took a lot for her to let someone else in, to lance the hurt in her soul and let it out.
He would wait as long as he needed.
Robyn moved as close as she could and captured his mouth with hers. Her breasts pushed against his chest, pliant, inviting.
“Can dinner wait for a while?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“As long as we need it to, honey.”
Taking her hand, he led her to his bedroom, not giving a damn about anything but making love to his lady.
8
“I love your bedroom,” Robyn said, looking around as he led her inside.
“I love the sight of you in it.”
His king-sized cherrywood bed dominated the room, with its four posters and dark comforter. She looked perfect in his room, and now he regretted ever bringing anyone else here. Not that he would mention that to her. Ever.
Slowly he undressed her, revealing her sun-kissed skin inch by inch. He couldn’t resist spreading kisses over her, starting with her face and neck, then working his way downward until he was on his knees at her feet, where he’d stay forever if she’d let him.
He urged her thighs apart and parted her sex with his fingers, rubbing. She didn’t protest—far from it. Widening her stance, she moaned when he tasted, running his tongue along her slit to the nub near the front. Back and forth, getting her nice and wet, making her boneless with want.
Gently he sucked her clit, working the magic button until she pulled at his hair.
“Chris,” she breathed. “I don’t want to come yet.”
Chuckling, he wiped his mouth and stood, pulling her over to the bed. He flung the covers back and they crawled onto the mattress together. She pushed him onto his back and began to explore his body much the same as he had hers. Kisses were peppered over his chest and abs. Then lower as she lavished attention on his cock.
God, she could suck like nobody, ever. Her pink tongue darted around the head, lapping at the precum weeping from it. He spread his legs, giving her access to do what she wanted. She cradled his balls in one hand, manipulating them, driving him crazy. Then she took him deep in her throat, something he knew wasn’t easy for her, and rendered him almost incoherent with lust.
“Baby—” He gasped. “Need to fuck you.”
“Please!”
Rolling over, he grabbed a condom from the bedside drawer and ripped open the package. With swift movements he sheathed his cock. Then he pressed her onto her back and moved between her legs, bringing the head to her entrance.
Pushing inside her was simply heaven. She was tight and slick, so hot. Her sex gripped him like a vise, stroking him from base to tip. He slid in to his balls, then out again. In and out, savoring the rhythm their bodies made, how attuned to each other they were.
The delicious friction drove him higher. As he increased the tempo, she wrapped her legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust, nails digging into his back. That was such a turn-on; knowing that she could lose herself, come unraveled in his arms, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
His release exploded and he drove home with a hoarse cry, and remained there, shuddering as he emptied his balls. His heat filled her and she cried out as well, bucking against him, riding out her orgasm.
Spent, he cradled her for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of being connected. But too soon, his erection softened and he had to pull out. So he rolled onto his back and brought her with him, settling her head on his chest.
“Hungry?”
“Famished. That was quite a workout.”
He felt her smile against his chest. “Maybe we’ll have time for a repeat after we eat and before you have to get home? When do you have to let Rachel go?”
“I’ve got a couple of hours,” she said.
“All right.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“I know this isn’t what you signed up for—”
“Stop.” He rubbed her back, kept his tone soothing. “I want all of you, Robyn. Even the part of you who’s a mom. Haven’t I made that clear?”
“Yeah. I guess you have.” She burrowed closer.
“Then don’t worry about anything right now. Let’s enjoy every moment and let things happen.”
“You make it hard to say no.”
“So don’t.”
“That simple.” Hesitation colored her voice.
“It can be.”
With that, she became quiet and relaxed in his arms. He wasn’t ready to put a name on his growing feelings, but he knew he didn’t want to let her out of his home, or his bed.
Not now. Not ever.
* * *
The next few days passed by in a blur of happiness. There was only one blight on Chris’s world: his illness was back with a vengeance, worse than ever before.
He started to think Robyn might have a point about black mold or some other contamination, so he placed calls to experts. Several of them. He had men trooping in and out, going over every square inch of the house and property with a fine-toothed comb. If there was anything in or around the house causing him to get sick, they assured him they’d find it.
But they found nothing. The problem was baffling, and disheartening.
He didn’t know what to do, other than move back in with his cousin or go to a hotel room, but he was reluctant to do e
ither. No way did he want to impose on Shane and his family more than he had, and his relationship with Robyn was too new to ask to stay there. Nor did he want to stay in a hotel. Something had to give, though. He only knew that whenever he was away from home for a couple of days or more, he started to improve.
What the hell is in my house? This is not my imagination!
A week later, he woke up barely able to get out of bed. In the bathroom, a wave of horrible sickness overwhelmed him and he fell to his knees, vomiting into the toilet.
And was shocked to see crimson. Blood. He blinked hazily, a tendril of fear snaking down his spine. He thought at first he must be imagining things, but no. There was no mistaking that he was in real trouble.
After his stomach was emptied and raw, he flushed and pulled himself up with difficulty. His legs were weak, shaky. In fact, his whole body was trembling like he was a geriatric Chihuahua on speed. He broke into a cold sweat, and his heart was racing.
Quickly, he brushed his teeth and considered whether to attempt a shower and get changed for work. Immediately he discarded that idea. There was just no way he was going to make it to the station. In fact, he should probably call Tonio.
Wearing only his sleep pants, he started from the bathroom and was scared to realize he had to brace a hand on the wall in order to walk. God, where was his phone? Sofa table? Kitchen counter? He had to find it. Now.
It took him at least five minutes to make it from the bedroom down the hall to the living room. Wobbling to the sofa, he held on to the back of it and scanned for his cell phone. Spotting it on the coffee table with his keys, he started around the arm of the sofa—and fell.
His legs gave way like someone had cut the muscle and tendon holding him together. His knees hit the carpet, the blow somewhat cushioned, and his vision swam. He crawled to his cell phone and fumbled to unlock the screen. Finally he made out Tonio’s name on the contact list and punched the button to dial him.
“Come on,” he said, anxious. “Answer.”
The man picked up, thank God. “Hello?”
“Tonio? Hey, it’s Chris.” He stopped, panting. Why couldn’t he get enough air? “I—I can’t make it in today. I can’t . . . I’m not . . .” The room dipped and the phone slipped from nerveless fingers, then bounced under the couch.
“Help me.” Distantly, he could hear Tonio’s voice raised in concern.
He got on his stomach and fished for the phone, but it was out of his reach. He’d seriously fucked up. Should’ve called 9-1-1 instead of using his cell to call his partner. That would’ve been quicker to get help on the way, more direct. Using all his strength, he pushed up and stumbled for the kitchen, the closest landline phone. The other was in his bedroom—he’d never make it back there.
God, he couldn’t breathe. His heart was threatening to explode, and agony was ripping his chest in two.
Lurching for the kitchen counter, he grabbed for the phone, felt his fingers wrap around the cool metal. But he fell again, taking the base, cord, and all with him, felt the line jerk from the wall. The phone clattered across the tile a few feet away, and he stared at it.
Horror swept him in an icy embrace. His body was done. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t get air. The pain was so intense, spots began to swim in front of his face. Black spots growing larger and larger. Like spilled ink, obliterating everything.
He felt himself go. Knew he was falling into a black abyss that he might never awaken from. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
Then there was nothing.
* * *
“Chris! Chris! Breathe, goddamn you!”
He wanted to obey the voice. Couldn’t.
“Oh God. Hello? Somebody help me!”
Nobody could help. Too late.
The voice rattled off something. Numbers, a street. He couldn’t make sense of it. Or of the pounding on his chest when more voices joined the first one. They were trying to crack his chest open, and he didn’t understand why.
Hurts. So much. He tried to tell them. But they weren’t listening. They kept right on trying to rip him apart, while demanding he live. He didn’t know how.
When the blackness engulfed him again, he sank into the ether. He had no choice.
* * *
“Dr. Lassiter, we’ve got a victim coming in hot. ETA five minutes,” Lee told her. “Another heart attack, according to the paramedics.”
Dammit, this could not be happening again! “Okay, thank you. Let’s get prepped.”
“Already on it.”
Nerves strung taut, she paced the floor, double-checked that everything was ready. But she couldn’t have been prepared to see the paramedics rushing through the doors with a very familiar man on the gurney.
Chris’s hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his face was pale, eyes closed. Her lover was in real trouble.
“In the first room,” she called sharply, pointing. Then she whirled and found Shea. “I need another doctor here, now!”
Shea’s eyes were wide. “There’s nobody else available! You don’t have a choice.”
Spinning on her heel, she rushed into the room, where one medic was hanging Chris’s IV on the pole and the other reported on his vitals: his blood pressure was not low and sluggish, as expected, but extremely high.
“He’s also vomiting blood, and in respiratory distress,” the medic said, stepping back to let the nurses take over.
Her mind went cold, clinical. “Vomiting blood?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Sure enough, she noted the traces of pink froth around his mouth.
None of the other victims had arrived with this symptom—and it made all the difference. Nausea, sweats, general fatigue, racing heart, trouble breathing—and vomiting blood. In that instant, one terrifying word jumped to the forefront of possible diagnosis: poison.
“Get him intubated,” she snapped to Cori, one of the nurses. To Shea, she ordered, “Draw blood. We need a full tox screen from the lab, right fucking now. Include tests for the big three poisons—cyanide, arsenic, and strychnine.”
“Poison?” Shea gasped.
“Just do it.”
How could she have missed this before? But clever killers knew that poisons were most often completely missed by doctors and medical examiners, misdiagnosed from the start because the poisons, especially cyanide, were virtually undetectable and mimicked any number of diseases. Especially heart disease resulting in heart failure. Killers were also well aware that tests for these poisons were not standard, and the poison wouldn’t simply show up in routine blood work. Doctors had to know exactly what they were looking for in order to find it.
And she would goddamned well find it. Chris was not going to die. She wouldn’t allow that to happen.
Even if her team thought she was crazy, they obeyed her instructions without question. Faced with a ticking clock and little recourse, she couldn’t wait on the test results. Working quickly and with the help of her nurses, she administered two common antidotes for the poisons she suspected.
She knew that, if it was going to work at all, the treatment should be effective within minutes. “Hold on, Chris, do you hear me? Hang in there.”
His heart rate was so high, she was terrified the organ would give out. If it hadn’t been for the breathing tube and oxygen, he would’ve asphyxiated already. His vitals were erratic, but gradually his pulse slowed, his pressure stabilizing. When his pulse finally fell within the normal range and stayed there, the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“My God,” Shea said quietly. “How did you know it was poison?”
“The froth around his mouth and the vomiting blood. Combined with the other symptoms he’s been complaining about, it finally clicked.” She put a hand over her mouth as she stared at her unconscious lover. “With a man who seemed so perfectly health
y otherwise, it should have occurred to me sooner to look toward a more sinister cause.”
“That’s not true,” Shea said. “Statistically, poisonings are extremely rare, especially those done with intent to harm. And the symptoms are too common to raise suspicion.”
“I know. I just have to get my head wrapped around this. I need to see him settled into a room and talk to his partner. Then I’ve got a few phone calls to make.”
Reaching down, she touched Chris’s hair. His eyes were still closed, and he’d be out for a while. But she’d take it over the alternative any day. Glancing at Shea, she saw concern and understanding on the other woman’s face. Shea knew without saying anything that the detective had come to mean so much more to Robyn than just a friend.
She had spent the last few years so afraid to get close to another man, to fall in love with someone who might leave her, as Greg had. Now she’d gone and done it anyway, and had almost lost Chris.
She didn’t have a damned clue what to do about these rampant feelings.
With dread, she went in search of Tonio and found him practically wearing a hole in the tile, along with Shane and a tall, ruggedly handsome man she didn’t recognize. This man appeared to be a few years older than the detectives, perhaps in his mid-forties. As she approached, they turned to her, naked fear etched on their faces.
“Tonio called and told me what happened,” Shane rasped. “Got here as fast as I could. How is he?”
“Chris is stable now,” she told them. Shane actually sagged and braced himself by holding on to the back of a plastic chair.
“What the hell happened?” Tonio asked. His raven hair was poking in every direction like he’d been running his hands through it. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. He called me and was telling me he couldn’t come in, and then I heard the phone drop and he called out, ‘Help me.’ I got there as fast as I could, and he was lying on the kitchen floor with blood trickling from his mouth. He couldn’t breathe, and I thought he was going to die.”
This wasn’t going to be easy. They were going to freak when she told them.
