CHAPTER 16
Finn towered over her, dark and threatening, but somehow she knew he’d never hurt her. How the hell did she know that? Was she psychic or just plain old-fashioned stupid?
“You didn’t kill her, Finn. Whoever planted that knife in her chest killed her.”
“But it’s my fault she died.” The fury inside him was a palpable thing, like a tiger trapped beneath the surface of his skin.
“You can help me catch her killer. You know these people.”
“No one I know would butcher Gina like a piece of meat.” She wanted to comfort him but did not dare touch. He was so beautiful she ached just looking at him, all blond, scruffy, and gorgeous. The planes of his face were sharp in the dim light. Shoulders broad enough to carry more than their fair share of trouble. And he did. She knew he did.
There was a solid core of honor and compassion that ran through him that propelled attractive into irresistible. She wanted to reach out and test the strength in those arms, feel the hardness of his chest pressed against the softness of hers. Her body was on fire, and it made it hard to breathe, let alone think.
“What do you want from me? A meaningless apology for something I’d do again?” he asked.
What she really wanted was to feel the rough scrape of stubble over her naked skin. Not exactly appropriate. She stalked away.
“So I lied about the knife—big deal.”
It was a big deal. She threw up her hands. “Don’t tell me we suck at our jobs when everyone thinks it’s OK to lie to us.” All she wanted to do was catch a killer and get the hell out of this nightmare. Romping with this guy was not on the menu, no matter how hungry he made her. She rested her hands on her hips, remembering she was a professional, a solid cop with a hell of a track record for catching bad guys. “I wanted to tell you your brother hasn’t been charged and is just being held for questioning at this time. He’s OK—”
“OK? O-fucking-kay!” He took a step back. “You’ve got him in jail.” Silver sparked in his eyes. Thunder cracked and a bolt of lightning split the night. “He’s already spent one lifetime in that hellhole, it’ll kill him to do more.”
Holly stared up at him, trying to penetrate the fury. “I don’t think he did it,” she said quietly.
“And what about that asshole boss of yours?”
“He doesn’t think he did it either.”
“Seriously?” He stared at her wide-eyed, as if he didn’t believe her. “Then why the hell did you haul him off?”
“He’s a convicted felon, Finn, with a previous sexual relationship with the victim. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t bring him in for questioning.” She clenched her fists and relaxed her jaw. “He’s got a great lawyer, and that knife on the bed shows your brother is either a complete megalomaniacal psychopath or he’s being framed. Cops aren’t stupid, you know.”
His lip curled and he snarled as he turned away.
Because he was hurting, she realized. Because he was in pain, and for some reason that made her hurt too.
He rested his head against his forearm as he leaned against the kitchen wall. “When I saw your boss earlier.” His voice was low and gravelly. “I wanted to take him apart.”
“Join the club.”
He whipped around to face her. “Why did you sleep with him?”
Her mouth went dry. Christ. She should tell him to go to hell, but they were involved in something here. Something that didn’t involve police procedure and defied convention. Something elemental and essential. Like blood. And oxygen.
There were plenty of reasons she’d slept with Furlong. Loneliness and foolishness being prime among them. “My mom had just died.”
Muscles bunched in his jaw, and his breath escaped as steam that heated the air around them. The wind started to howl. Trees braced against the onslaught of the storm outside and an equal storm battered her senses, weakening her defenses. She swallowed uneasily. “I needed someone to hold me.”
“Bad choice.”
“Yeah, bad choice.” Her heart stuttered. “I don’t usually make mistakes.” She stepped forward and placed her hands on his chest.
His hands gripped her waist, and it wasn’t a gentle caress. The heat of his touch burned through the thin layer of her uniform shirt. “Am I another mistake, Holly?” His voice was a whisper against her lips. His eyes were like fire against her soul.
She shook her head and stood on tiptoes, needing just one kiss. Her fingers sank into his hair, and suddenly she was pressed up snug against his lean, hard body as she caught his lips with her own. She ran her tongue lightly over the seam and then, just as she was about to pull away, he slanted his mouth over hers and plunged.
Oh, hell. Desire ignited along her veins, and she sank both hands into his hair, dragging him closer, absorbing every detail of their kiss—the essence, the sensuality, the unexpected tenderness. Her knees shook. He tasted like magic. Like someone had cast a spell of enchantment over her, making her want him with every particle of her being. She felt drunk, or drugged on nothing more than a simple kiss that was as complex as the universe.
It’s just a kiss, Holly.
The hard planes of his body felt solid and strong against the softness of hers. His hands slipped into the waistband of her pants and cupped her bottom, pulling her up against the firm ridge of his zipper. Fireworks exploded through her at the contact.
Busy fingers undid tiny buttons on her shirt with more dexterity than she could manage even when she wasn’t burning from the inside out. He pulled it off her shoulders, impatiently found the clasp of her bra, and the cool air wafting over her flesh told her she was naked from the top down. His fingertips fluttered over the faded bruises, and for a moment she thought he was going to stop. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
He stripped off his T-shirt, and Holly slid enthralled fingers up the solid slabs of muscle, scraping a fingernail up over bumpy abs, then over first one nipple and then the other. She watched the slide of his throat as he swallowed. Eyes, colorless in the night, but no less intense, watched her with a combustible heat—fire waiting for oxygen.
His mouth dropped to her breast, soft hair brushing her skin an instant before pleasure shot through her. He sucked deeply, swirling her nipple with his tongue as his fingers plucked and played with its mate.
The sensation was so incredible, so erotic and magnetic. Her head spun, and the gentle rocking motion he made with his thigh had her so desperate to have him inside her she was rubbing against him with the need to get closer. Her fingers found his zipper, and she eased it carefully down, admiring the length and width of him as he sprang into her palm. Oh, god. She hummed as she ran her fingers up and down and around him until she could feel heat start to build just beneath the surface of his skin.
He undid her belt, top button of her uniform pants, and slid the zipper down. She bent her legs against the wall so she could undo her boots, first one foot, then the other. The weight of the equipment belt took the trousers the rest of the way to the floor. She kicked out of them and her shoes and stood there in nothing more than her panties and a splash of moonlight. The storm lashed against the windows with indignant fury, leaving them isolated in the darkness. Finn moved closer, spreading her thighs with the sheer bulk of his.
There was a tiny voice at the back of her mind whispering that she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be doing this. Then she watched him shuck his jeans, grab a condom out of his wallet, and the little voice was roped, gagged, and sidelined into oblivion. He stripped off her nothing panties, lifted her onto the kitchen counter, and she gasped as the cold surface connected with her bare skin. He smiled and kissed her again. Long, slow, mesmerizing kisses. His fingers touched her everywhere, driving her up, driving her wild until she was panting and writhing, wanting him closer, wanting him buried deep inside her.
She picked up the condom from beside her hip and rolled it over his thick length. A fine shudder ran through his bod
y, and she was relieved to know her touch affected him too. He positioned himself against her, the swollen head of him big and bold. She tried to move toward him, but he wouldn’t let her. He leaned down and ran his tongue between her breasts before closing once more over her nipple. Her toes curled, and she sank back against the wall, trembling and so turned on she was going to melt. She could feel him, right there, his body straining with the need to be inside her. It had been a long time for her, but she didn’t remember ever losing control before, didn’t remember being so frantic.
“Tell me I’m not a mistake.”
Her throat went dry when she realized what he was asking and why he was asking it right now. Because she could still change her mind, because she hadn’t totally crossed the line. Yet.
But she didn’t care about the line. She sank her fist into his hair and dragged him closer, wrapped her legs around his hips and brought just the thick tip of him inside her. Muscles started to clench, needy, grasping, wanting him to fill her, wanting to take him deep.
“Tell me,” he demanded, not moving an inch even as the tendons in his neck grew taut.
“You’re not a mistake.”
He took hold of her hips and thrust deep and hard, and every color of the rainbow shattered inside her mind. She moaned, and he captured the sound with an openmouthed kiss that drew her into him again. He pulled her to the edge of the counter, straining to get deeper. Sweat coated both their bodies. Skin about to ignite. He moved in and out of her wet heat, but he couldn’t get all the way inside her, and it was killing them both.
“Do you trust me?” He rested his head on her forehead.
She almost laughed except she couldn’t find the breath. She was naked on the guy’s kitchen counter. Her gun and Taser on the floor, and he was asking if she trusted him?
He pulled out and she gritted her teeth with frustration. Then he flipped her, and she yelped as cold Formica connected with her stomach and breasts. Then heat spread slowly over her body as inch by inch he toed her legs wider apart. Oh…
“Tell me if you hurt, at all,” he ordered roughly.
She swallowed. Whoa. She felt exposed and vulnerable and so turned on it was like being in some erotic movie. His breath was in her ear as his chest curled over her back. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve met, did you know that?”
She felt the prickle of the hair on his thighs against hers, felt the engorged head of his penis as he probed her hot, wet core.
“I’m not beautiful,” she denied. She sucked in a gasp, and suddenly he was filling her, deeper than before, and she didn’t care about being beautiful or any other damned coherent thought. So deep, he filled every corner of her body and mind with the sort of mind-altering pleasure that robbed her of speech and brainpower. He was gentle, sliding in and out with long, smooth strokes that built a tangle of need inside her until she was writhing and panting and clutching at his thighs with her fingernails. “More.”
He laughed, breath hot as dragon’s breath over her neck as he ran his tongue down her spine. And then, finally, he started pumping harder, driving deeper and cupping her breasts as he drove and drove and drove, and she was flying again, spinning out of control and shattering into a million pieces of glitter that sparkled like stardust before it too exploded. And she felt his climax pulse through her, and her muscles quivered and rode and milked his orgasm as if it was her own. She collapsed into a mass of boneless jelly and waited for her heart to restart.
It restarted with a bang.
CHAPTER 17
Oh, hell.
What had she just done?
His body was still draped over hers, heavy, solid, their skin sticky with sweat and sin. His breath was in her ear, heart pounding against her back, still deep inside her, pulsing, their hearts beating in rhythm. Part of her craved that closeness, that connection that fused them like metal alloy. She’d never experienced anything like it before and didn’t want it to end. But no matter what she thought of Finn Carver, his brother was still a suspect in jail. She closed her eyes and pushed back against his bulk. “Let me up.”
He was watching her with raptor-like intensity. He could read her expressions as easily as she read his. “Dammit, Holly.”
She shifted restlessly. He withdrew and dealt with the condom. A freakin’ condom because they’d had freakin’ kitchen countertop sex, and she’d never had kitchen countertop sex before with anyone, let alone someone involved in a murder investigation.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“We. We did that.”
“I know, but if anyone finds out I did it with you, I will lose my job. You’ll probably get a goddamned high-five.”
His face went hard. Eyes cold and brilliant like Arctic sunshine. She tried to take his hand, but he pulled away.
Cold air brushed across her bare skin, and she grabbed her bra and panties, struggled into them in the close confines of the kitchen as he watched her with a gaze that turned molten again and made her feel weak inside. What was wrong with her? She didn’t do this sort of thing. She didn’t have time.
He reached out and untwisted her bra strap, and she froze, wishing she could melt into him as he ran a finger over the bare skin of her shoulder. She wished circumstances were different. That she could drag Finn to bed and go for seconds. That she could kiss him in public and hold his hand and, hell, just lick him all over.
But she couldn’t.
She’d screwed up.
What had she done? What kind of cop behaved like this?
If she had any integrity at all, she’d step down from her position as primary investigator. She started to hyperventilate, the air never quite reaching her lungs. Each breath getting tighter as panic spiraled. She held on firmly to the sink in case she fainted.
His fingers squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t.”
She swore and then struggled into her uniform, doing up her belt, heavy with equipment and responsibility. A headache throbbed through her temples as she tucked in her shirt, pulled her hair back into its ubiquitous braid.
“Are you OK?” Finn asked, sounding level and resigned.
Her heart squeezed and she thrust away from the sink. “I’m good, but I need to go—”
“Wrongs to right, bad guys to catch.” His eyes glittered in the darkness as he stood back to wave her through. Not level and resigned at all. Pissed as a two-headed rattler.
She walked past him and he let her go. Out into the darkness where cold air bit and remorse flooded her.
“Come back anytime, sweetheart,” he called after her. “Always happy to take one for the team.” He slammed the door, and the sound echoed through the night like leftover thunder.
She ran down the stairs, not mad with Finn, but heartbroken. Because she hadn’t just hurt him, she’d lied to him about it first. And she knew from personal experience that was the deepest kind of betrayal.
Her cell rang just as she hit the bottom step. “Rudd,” she answered.
“I missed it.” Messenger sounded agitated and on edge.
“Missed what?”
“Rob Fitzgerald used the call box to phone the hotline with the tip about the knife.”
Holly’s heart pounded and she stopped moving.
A truck drove past, going from the dive shed toward town, and the hairs on Holly’s nape snapped taut as she recognized Fitzgerald behind the wheel. He waved, and she nodded and held his gaze as he drove past.
“The call was made only an hour before someone used that same call box to lure Brent Carver to Gina Swartz’s house.”
Probably to try to frame him for murder.
“I want everything on Fitzgerald. Everything.” She stared after his taillights.
All the turmoil and uncertainty about what she’d just done with Finn evaporated as her heartbeat steadied. She radioed Malone to come pick her up in the RCMP vehicle. They were getting closer, she could feel it. And she was about to spend the night with memories of Finn keeping her warm as she staked ou
t their prime suspect.
The next morning, Holly watched through the hardware store window as an IFIS guy with circles the size of Kansas around his eyes sampled the town call box for DNA and fingerprints.
“Do you remember anyone using that phone yesterday morning, Mr. Toben?” she asked. She’d spent a sleepless night watching Fitzgerald’s house from a high point in the motel parking lot. But his truck hadn’t moved until 7:30 a.m. when he’d headed off to work.
Grant Toben scratched his iron-gray hair. “I don’t spend my time gazing out the window, young lady.”
Young lady?
“I appreciate that, sir.” She smiled, but it was getting harder and harder to use her charm when she had a weapon and a badge. “However, you have a great view from here.” The store sat just across the parking lot from the public phone that had been used to make both calls yesterday morning. Had the murderer expected cops to already be on scene or had they scored a lucky break? Had the killer wanted to hurt Brent Carver, place him at the scene, or just get him out of the house long enough to plant the murder weapon? Maybe it was all of the above because he made a hell of a slam-dunk murder suspect.
“Where’s Mike? Maybe he saw something.”
“I do remember seeing that young man from the marine lab down here.” He scrunched up his features, lips disappearing beneath his thick moustache.
“Which one?” Holly pressed.
“Don’t know his name. Tall, lanky fellow. Brown hair hanging down over his shoulders like a girl.”
Holly hid her excitement behind neutral features and held up a photograph of Rob Fitzgerald.
“Yup.” Grant Toben nodded nonchalantly. “That’s the guy. And I remember thinking it was strange because I know he has a cell phone because whenever he’s in here he can barely take his eyes off the damn thing long enough to carry on a normal conversation. Scourge of modern society, those damn things.”
“I’m going to need you to make a statement, Mr. Toben.” She nodded to Rachel Messenger to finish conducting the interview, and although the news was exactly what they’d hoped for, it was hard to feel excited. Deep inside, she felt like a fake. Someone impersonating an officer. The sort of cop she and her father had always derided over dinner because even though the evidence pointed the other way, she had been intimate with someone involved in the investigation, and no matter how incredible it had been, it was still wrong. She glanced outside and caught Furlong’s glance. She thanked Toben and headed outside. “He identified Rob Fitzgerald as using the call box yesterday morning.”
Dangerous Waters Page 24
