by Sarah Grimm
He sat up, caught her face in his hands and kissed her. The move changed the angle of his penetration and drove him deeper into her. She cried out, still she moved against him, shifting her hips back and forth. He felt the rising pressure, knew he was moving swiftly toward climax. He wanted her there with him.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against her mouth. Clamping both hands on her hips, he pulled her harder against him even as he thrust up until he was as deep inside her as he could get. “Come for me, Paige. I want to watch you.”
Her hands moved up his arms, her fingers curled around his biceps. Her body began to tremble and her breath came in short, sharp gasps. He watched her pupils dilate just before she closed her eyes and gave herself to him completely.
“Justin…”
“Yes.”
She cried out his name, shuddering wildly as her body milked his. Heat and sensation crashed down on him, the first shock wave hit him with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. One hot, shuddering spasm after another battered his senses. Holding her tightly he pushed deep, deeper, and was rewarded with a climax so powerful, his chest ached.
* * * * *
Justin automatically reached for his Glock atop the bedside table and sat up slowly, blinking residual sleep from his eyes as he tried to pinpoint what had awakened him. The first faint glimmer of light streaked the sky outside his bedroom window revealing Paige as she lay sprawled half across his body, her arm draped across his waist. Her breathing was even, relaxed as she continued her exhausted slumber, their legs tangled, his thigh snugly between hers.
His blood heated as he looked down at her, her hair a wild tangle over his sheets. In the dim light her skin glowed. Reaching out, he stroked his free hand down the length of her, savoring the feel of her, the scent of her. Her body arched, her lips parted on a sigh. The desire to roll her over and lose himself in her warmth was strong. Instead, he eased out from beneath her and slid his legs over the edge of the bed.
When the sound came to him again, like someone moving around in his kitchen, his gaze drifted to the doorway. His fingers tightened around the grip of his automatic as the fuzz cleared from his mind.
Tossed across the seat of the ladder-back chair near his bed lay a pair of jeans, which he quickly donned. Taking time to fasten just enough buttons to keep them on his hips, he slipped soundlessly into the living room, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him. Back to the wall, one foot at a time, he crept. His gaze shifting from the empty room around him to the shaft of light showing beneath the swinging door that led to his kitchen.
There was definitely someone in his kitchen. A gurgling hiss sounded through the door, the sound familiar enough that he shook his head. Adrenaline pumping, he edged toward the kitchen door, straining to hear something else, something that would clue him in to the position of the intruder. No further noise came.
He stopped to the right of the door, took a deep breath and prepared himself mentally. Using his knuckles, he swung the door open and slipped through, conducting a quick visual sweep of the room before leveling his Glock on the man sitting at his kitchen table.
“Allan?” Sucking in a breath, Justin aimed the automatic at the floor. “What are you doing here?”
Allan lifted the empty coffee mug in his hand. “Making coffee.”
Justin glanced toward the gurgling coffee pot on the counter, at once recognizing the sound he’d heard through the door. Sure enough, Allan was making coffee. He scrubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. “I could have shot you.”
“You aren’t the type to shoot first and ask questions later,” Allan replied glibly as he crossed the room and filled the mug in his hand as well as a second mug he removed from the cupboard. “Put that gun away and join me.”
Justin stood rooted in the doorway, considering his partner. How he’d gotten in wasn’t the question since he’d given Allan a key years ago. The question was why he’d come. Something was going on here—it didn’t take a detective to figure that out.
Allan returned to the table, placed the second mug of coffee before the empty chair across from him. “It’s about time you woke up. I’ve been banging around this kitchen for the past ten minutes. I was just about to go shake you awake myself.”
Seconds ticked by while Justin pictured the scene Allan would have stumbled upon. The image of Paige as she’d been just a few moments ago, all lithe limbs and soft flesh as he held her possessively against his chest, swam through his mind. Their bodies twined intimately together without the cover of the sheet, which lay tangled across the end of the bed.
The awareness in his partner’s eyes told him Allan knew exactly what he would have walked in on. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He lifted his coffee, took a cautionary sip. “Just so you know, Lieutenant Taylor has asked whether I believe you to be too close to this to do your job.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I assured him you wouldn’t let it compromise the case.”
Justin expelled a slow breath of relief. “Thank you.”
“It might not do any good. You know how Taylor is when he gets something stuck in his mind.”
“I know.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Find our shooter. Keep him from getting to Paige.”
“And Taylor?”
Justin raised his shoulder. “I’ll deal with him when the time comes.”
Allan leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. “This one is different, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“You care for her.”
“I do.”
“You’ve changed, Justin.”
When Allan said those exact words barely a week before, every cell in Justin’s body had cried out in denial. Today, he felt no compulsion to argue. He had changed and Paige had played a large role in that change.
Still, it wasn’t a topic he felt comfortable discussing. He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. “You going to tell me what brings you to my kitchen at such an ungodly hour?”
Allan sat for a moment, not responding. Justin didn’t have to look at him to feel his intense scrutiny. He shifted his weight.
“I wasn’t ready to go home yet,” Allan at last admitted. “I’ve been up all night. At the hospital with Suzanne.”
Justin’s gaze returned to the table and for the first time since stepping through the kitchen door, he noted the dark stubble covering Allan’s cheeks, the smudges of fatigue beneath his eyes. Concern for his partner, his best friend, filled him. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong with the baby?”
“He’s fine,” Allan stated, and Justin remembered to breathe. “Two weeks early, but fine.”
“Good. That’s good…” His words trailed off as what his partner had just said registered. “Suzanne had the baby?”
“Red faced and wailing, he decided to make his grand entrance at exactly three fifty-six this morning.”
“Congratulations. How’s Suzanne?”
“Suzanne is beautiful,” Allan replied, damn near glowing with pride. He rubbed at the five o’clock shadow along his jaw and spoke, his voice full of stunned bewilderment. “Alexander’s amazing, Justin. Two arms, two legs, ten fingers and toes.”
Justin smiled, amused by his friend’s awe. “That is the preferred package. Wait, did you say Alexander?”
A lopsided grin overtook Allan’s features. “About halfway through labor Suzanne informed me that we were doing our baby’s godfather a disservice by not naming the baby after him. I’ll tell you something, you don’t argue with a woman in transition. That meant Alexander if the baby was a boy, Alexandra for a girl.”
Alexander—Justin’s middle name. Justin Alexander Harrison. Allan and Suzanne had given him a most precious gift. They named their son after him.
Justin dropped into the chair across from Allan and placed his Glock on the table next to his untouched mug of coffee. “I don’t know what to say,”
he managed in a voice that had gone strangely hoarse.
“I love you like a brother, Justin. You know that.”
He did know and he felt the same. Still, he felt completely unprepared for the affect this conversation had on him. He breathed deeply to steady himself. “Allan.”
“Just be careful these next few weeks,” Allan responded, his voice choked. “Suzanne would never forgive me if something happened to you while I wasn’t there to watch your back.”
Allan’s family leave would start today—had probably started the moment his son drew his first breath. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”
But he was going to miss his partner’s grounding presence at the precinct. As well as his cool, analytical mind.
In a flash of intuition, Justin knew that no matter how difficult it had already been keeping up the pretense that he was back in top form, it was only going to get harder. His days would stretch longer. His stress would increase tenfold.
For the first time in his career, he didn’t look forward to doing his job.
“I’m sorry, Justin. I know this couldn’t have come at a worse time. Maybe you should approach Taylor yourself, ask him for help. Admit you’re struggling.”
“I’m not struggling,” Justin insisted, trying to ignore the bad taste in his mouth brought on by his denial.
“No?” Allan gazed pointedly to where Justin unconsciously manipulated the ache in his side.
Justin’s hand stilled. He shifted it away from his side and rested it atop the table. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
“I’ve just overdone it recently. Therapy wise.”
“Let me guess, you decided if once a week was good, twice was even better?”
He opened his mouth, shut it. Sometimes it really rankled that Allan knew him so well.
“Justin, there’s more to life than being a cop.”
“I am a cop.”
“A damn good one, if not a very intelligent one. You didn’t see yourself in that hospital bed, Justin. I didn’t know if you would pull through. Then, when it became obvious you would, all you could talk about was getting back to the job.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’re back. But at what cost to yourself? A few more weeks—”
“I can’t do that, Allan. I need to help Paige.”
“You are helping her. She’s safe here, with you.”
“For how long? She won’t hide here forever.”
Allan sat forward, curled his hands around his mug. “You want her to? Stay here with you?”
“I want her safe.”
Allan’s left eyebrow rose a fraction. He gave Justin a pointed look. “Does she know how you feel?”
“She knows I’ll do everything to keep her safe.”
“Of course you will.” But that wasn’t what Allan had asked and they both knew it.
Justin pushed to his feet and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He looked away from his partner’s knowing gaze and focused on the wall instead.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Allan asked.
“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. He rubbed his hand over his face and mumbled under his breath. “I don’t know how I feel about her.”
“Choosing not to risk can be lonely, Justin,” Allan said, his tone full of understanding.
“This from the man who, only a few days ago, told me to stay away from her.”
“You’ve been known to ignore my advice in the past. I never really expected you to listen to me.” He lifted the mug to his lips and gave Justin a level-eyed look over the rim. “I really wish you’d listen this time. Talk to Taylor, Justin.”
“I can do the job.”
“Are you certain of that? What if you’re too close to this? We both know from experience that emotion clouds judgment.”
“You said you believed in me.”
“I do, damn it!” Allan set his mug down with enough force to send coffee sloshing over the lip and onto the back of his hand. He swore under his breath. “At least ask Taylor to reassign someone to help you with this. Face it, you’re running out of time. You have his attention now. He’ll be watching you like a hawk.”
Justin wanted to be angry. He didn’t need Allan reminding him of his limitations, his own traitorous body did that on a daily basis. But then he looked at the man who’d been his partner these past ten years, his best friend. In his eyes he found compassion and concern.
Justin ran his palm over the knotted muscles in his neck. Allan was right—he was running out of time. Hell, if he were honest with himself he’d admit to already being out of time. With Lieutenant Taylor already looking so closely at him, come Monday, he would inevitably be pulled from the case.
Unless he did as Allan suggested and went to Taylor before Taylor could come to him.
The muscles in his neck and back tightened as a strange sense of foreboding stole over him. He locked his eyes with Allan’s and wished, not for the first time, things had worked out differently. Why now, when he needed his help the most, did Allan’s leave have to begin? If only his godson had waited a few more weeks to arrive, Justin could back off, leaving the case in the hands of the man he trusted above all others.
“What is it?” Allan asked, reading his discomfort.
Swiping a hand over his gritty eyes, Justin sank back into his chair. “I can’t shake loose the feeling that I’m not the only one running on borrowed time.”
“You’re talking about Paige. What haven’t you told me?”
“He searched her house. Not just her studio, but her living quarters as well. He took enough time doing it that she didn’t immediately notice anything out of place.”
“Any idea what he wanted?”
“No.”
“So he might have found it.”
“Or he might be back to have another look.”
Pushing his mug aside, Allan leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. His forehead furrowed. “You think he will be back, that he’s not done with her yet.”
“I don’t think he’s done with her, no. He left something for her, to let her know he’d been there.”
“Besides the pictures you mean. Another scare tactic? What did he leave her?”
“Her engagement ring, the one Preston gave her.” He’d bagged the ring on the off chance that he could get a viable print off it, but Justin would bet his career there’d be none.
“Didn’t Paige mention that the picture left in St. John’s hotel room was taken at her engagement party? Do you think it’s a message?”
“I think it’s a ploy to bring back painful memories. She took Preston’s murder hard—very hard. She ran away from the pain of Preston’s death, ran clear across the country. If he can bring that pain back…”
“Maybe she’ll run again. He certainly seems to know which buttons to push.”
“He’ll keep pushing them until he gets what he wants. The only problem is, Paige won’t run.”
Because she wasn’t the same person as she had been then. Whether she saw it in herself or not, Paige was strong, she was tough. Where a few years before she had settled for an unsatisfactory relationship, had allowed pain to push her from her home, today she stood her ground and threatened to face her fears head on.
