Striking Distance ti-6

by Pamela Clare

  “Do you think they’ll listen?”

  McBride grinned. “I’m the chief deputy U.S. Marshal for the Colorado territory. They have no choice but to listen.”

  * * *

  THE MEETING WITH Zach had left Laura on edge. It wasn’t just the revelation that a man she’d exposed five years ago had tried to kill Javier and might have been behind the plot to kill her, too. It was also the investigation of Ali Al Zahrani. Her mind kept drifting back to the boy—and the horrible thought that he might have been murdered just to serve as a kind of decoy.

  She did her best to focus on her work, answering a few e-mails from Tom and Syd and reviewing her questions for her interview with the regional VA director. The interview itself turned out to be as unrevealing as it was brief. She’d just hung up the phone when Javier came up behind her, his big hands resting on her shoulders.

  “How did it go?”

  “Short and uninformative.” Laura swiveled her chair and stood, sliding into his embrace. “He basically read me a press release over the phone and then declined to say anything else. I might as well have interviewed a rock.”

  “I’ve got some news that will cheer you up.” He smiled down at her. “You’ve got company.”

  She found Sophie, Matt, Alex, Kat, Joaquin, Holly, and Megan whispering together in the living room, carryout Thai food spread out in containers across her coffee table.

  “Surprise!” Sophie gave Laura a bright smile. “We brought lunch for you both.”

  Laura felt a swell of happiness to see them, even Alex.

  Javier leaned down and spoke for Laura’s ears alone. “You have a good time with your friends. Mind if I borrow your computer to catch up on e-mail?”

  “Feel free. The browser should be open.”

  He thanked Sophie and the others for the food, then disappeared down the hallway. Laura soon found herself enjoying panang curry with chicken, spring rolls, and rice—and catching up with her coworkers about events at the paper.

  Repairs had been completed so that no one could tell there’d ever been a car bomb. The cafeteria’s new healthier lunch menu had everyone in an uproar—everyone except Holly, who said she no longer had to feel jealous of what the others were eating. Matt and Tom had gotten into a blowout in the newsroom over a headline. Alex had been roughed up by a few members of a prison gang who were living on the outside and hadn’t appreciated his questions. Kat and Gabe would be leaving for two weeks on the Navajo reservation to help with the kinaalda, or coming-of-age ceremony, of one of Kat’s nieces. Joaquin had put together a photo spread of some of the working girls from Candy’s, but the publisher and Tom were fighting over whether the package could run, given what the women did for a living.

  “It’s bullshit, man.” Joaquin was clearly furious. “Since when is our job only to pass on G-rated news?”

  This led to a long discussion about editorial autonomy.

  Then Megan announced that she’d been accepted into law school.

  Laura felt a rush of joy for her. “Oh, that’s wonderful! When do classes start?”

  “They start in August, but I’ve got a reading list that I’m going to work through this spring and summer.”

  Megan talked a bit about her plans after graduating, how she planned to open a resource center that provided guidance and support to women who were being released on parole in hopes that fewer of them would wind up behind bars again.

  Laura was struck by Megan’s courage, her moral fiber. “What a beautiful way to turn your own suffering into something positive.”

  “How are you doing, Laura?” Sophie asked. “We all know what happened to Javier yesterday. I’m so glad he wasn’t seriously hurt.”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Alex stood. “Where’s your bathroom?”

  “Down the hall and on your left.” Laura returned to Sophie’s question. “I’m fine, I guess. I was pretty shaken up when I heard. I’m just glad Javier was able to defend himself. If he hadn’t been armed . . .”

  She didn’t want to think about that.

  “Do they have any idea why this guy tried to shoot him?” Matt asked. “It must be related to the attacks on you, right?”

  And Laura remembered that her friends were reporters.

  She answered carefully. “We assume so, but we don’t know anything for sure.”

  Holly leaned forward, looking gorgeous in a blue and white Prada print suit. “So have you and your sexy SEAL reconnected?”

  “Holly!” Sophie rolled her eyes.

  Kat looked up from her lunch. “That’s your business, Laura, not ours. Please don’t feel you need to answer.”

  Then Laura heard Javier’s voice.

  “Hey, get the hell out of here. Are you wearing a wire, man?”

  She set her plate on the coffee table and hurried down the hallway to find Javier standing face-to-face with Alex in the doorway to her office, his fists clenched.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I was sitting at your computer, and he walks in, starts asking questions about the shooting, pretending to give a shit. I look up to find him looking over my shoulder at the files on your desk, and I start asking myself whether he’s just talking to me because he’s your friend or whether he’s trying to grab a quote.”

  Laura took one look at Alex, and she knew that was exactly what he’d been doing. She touched a hand to Javier’s arm. “Javier can’t give interviews. You know that. Give me the recorder. Give it to me!”

  Javier moved closer, crowding Alex. “You’d better do what the lady asks.”

  Alex drew a digital recorder out of his pocket and handed it over. “This is bullshit, Laura. I’m just doing my job.”

  It was one thing to wear a digital recorder in an interview. It was another to wear it into someone’s home when no interview was taking place in hopes of stealing a quote or two in the guise of casual conversation.

  She scrolled back, deleted the file, then handed it back to him. “I thought you were a friend coming into my home, Alex, not a journalist working a story. I guess I was wrong. You need to leave. Now.”

  Alex walked off, muttering profanity.

  Laura turned to find the others standing down at the end of the hallway, watching, looks of astonishment on their faces.

  “I guess it’s time for us to go,” Alex said.

  Sophie glared at him, crossed her arms over her chest. “No, just you.”

  Joaquin glared at him. “What the hell were you thinking, man?”

  And Laura felt a rush of relief to know that the rest of her friends from the paper hadn’t been a part of Alex’s scheme.

  * * *

  JAVIER AND LAURA had a quiet dinner, did the dishes together, then settled on the couch, Laura’s head resting on Javier’s lap.

  “I’m sorry Alex was such a jerk today. In the I-Team meeting this morning he implied that I was keeping information from him—which I suppose I am. I didn’t think he’d join us for lunch only as a pretext to snoop in my office or to try to steal a quote from you. That’s low.”

  Javier stroked her hair, the feel of it like silk, being close to her making it impossible for him to feel angry. “The stupid cabrón is lucky I didn’t give him another black eye to match the one he already has.”

  “Can you imagine what might have happened if you hadn’t been in my office? He would have been free to look around and read everything. He might have found the FBI file. What would I tell Zach then?”

  “Why aren’t you like that? I always say that I can’t stand the media. You’re part of the media, but you’re not like him or that pendejo Gary Chapin.”

  “Gary and to some degree Alex live to break a story. It’s not the content of the story that matters to them. It’s the thrill of being first, of winning that race to make news. For me, journalism is about people. It’s about the human element.”

  “I guess that’s what sets you apart, why you’re so good at what you do.”

  “When I was a new reporter str
aight out of college, I was sent with a cameraman to a house where a father had just run over and killed his own eighteen-month-old daughter. He’d been pulling out of the driveway on his way to work and didn’t know that she’d gotten outside. She died before they reached the hospital. My job was to stake out the house and try to get an interview with him or the child’s mother.

  “When I got there, the place was already surrounded by reporters and photographers. They stood in the driveway, on the sidewalk in front of the house, and spilled into the street. After a few hours, the parents returned from the hospital to find that they couldn’t even get into their own driveway. They ended up having to park down the street and walk through a media gauntlet to their own front door.

  “The mother was so grief-stricken she could barely walk. And the reporters—they didn’t seem to care. They kept shouting questions. ‘When did you realize you’d run over your daughter?’ ‘Where were you in the house when you heard that your husband had run over your daughter?’ ‘Did your little girl scream or cry out?’ ‘Was she alive when you discovered her under your vehicle?’

  “I was so sick to my stomach, so disgusted, that I didn’t ask a single question. I got back to the station with nothing. I almost got fired that day, but I didn’t care. I made up my mind that night never to accept an assignment that I felt compromised my integrity.”

  He ran his knuckles over her cheek, wondering what he’d done to deserve this time with her. “I’ve never known anyone like you, bella.”

  His cell phone buzzed.

  “Hey, McBride, what’s up?”

  “Tower has regained consciousness. You said you wanted to be there when we questioned him. I can have Childers there in ten to watch over Laura if you want to come along.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  * * *

  LIGHT, PAIN, AND noise seemed to crash in on Derek all at once—a steady beep, a mechanical sound like breathing, and voices.

  A sea of women’s faces. Were they nurses?

  “Is your pain under control?”

  “This IV has started to infiltrate. We’re going to insert a new one in your other arm, okay? You’ll feel a little prick.”

  “If you don’t stop thrashing, we’re going to have to sedate you!”

  He was in the hospital, but he had no idea why. He couldn’t speak, could barely open his eyes. He drifted in and out, lost somewhere between oblivion and a world of clashing sounds and bright, blazing lights.

  And then there were other voices, men’s voices.

  “I’m Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal Zach MacBride, and I need to ask you a few questions about the shooting that put you in this bed. Can you understand me?”

  So Derek had been shot. That explained a few things. It must have been bad for him to be in this kind of shape.

  He nodded.

  “Can you write your name for us?”

  He felt a pencil in his hand. He spelled it out—D-E-R-E-K.

  He opened his eyes, men’s faces swimming in and out of focus. He thought he recognized them, but he couldn’t remember.

  “Can you remember who shot you?”

  So he had been shot. Yes, he’d been shot. They’d just told him that.

  What was the last thing he remembered before this place?

  He’d been waiting. Yes, he’d been waiting in his car. He’d been waiting for someone . . . He’d waited for a long time. He’d had to get there early because he’d wanted to be in position in case anyone showed up.

  “Mr. Tower, can you remember who shot you? It’s very important that you try.”

  Images slid through his mind. A parking garage. The sky. A building down below. The weapon in his hand.

  “Why were you at the parking garage, Mr. Tower?”

  A parking garage. Yes, he’d been at a parking garage. He’d been waiting.

  “He’s completely out of it. We’re not going to get a damned thing from him.”

  “We’ve got to try. In a few minutes, they’re going to send us away. Try to remember, Tower. Remember who shot you, and spell his name.”

  Spell his name?

  D-E-R-E-K.

  “Hey, Tower.” This one sounded angry. “Who tried to kill Laura Nilsson?”

  Laura Nilsson.

  He felt a spark of adrenaline, his eyes coming open.

  The little bitch had refused to meet with him. He’d needed to speak with her about her abduction, to find out whom she’d had contact with in the weeks prior. But she’d gotten a restraining order. She’d thought he was trying to kill her, but it wasn’t him. He needed her. He needed her alive, and so he’d gone to the parking garage.

  One second it seemed to make sense, and the next . . .

  A man with short, dark hair and angry brown eyes was leaning over him, his hand giving Derek’s an impatient squeeze. “Who tried to kill Laura Nilsson? Spell his name. That same person shot you, man.”

  But Derek didn’t know the shooter’s name. He couldn’t even remember his face. So he spelled the first thing that came into his mind.

  F-U-C-K Y-O-U.

  CHAPTER

  26

  LAURA KNEW THINGS hadn’t gone well with Derek the moment she saw Javier’s face. “He wouldn’t tell you anything.”

  Javier shook his head. “Either he’s still too out of it, or he doesn’t want to cooperate. He managed to write his own name twice and then spelled fuck you.”

  The little bubble of hope that Laura had carried inside her since Zach’s call popped. She wanted so much for this to be over. By answering their questions, Tower could have made that happen. “Maybe he’ll be more alert tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” Javier tossed his jacket onto the chair and drew her into his arms. “Come here. I think it’s bedtime.”

  She glanced at the clock and saw it was nine. “It’s too early for me to go to sleep.”

  He lowered his voice. “Oh, bella, who said anything about sleep? Now, where did we leave off?”

  All it took was one look from him, and her blood began to heat. “I think we were at twelve.”

  “That’s right. A dirty dozen. Now for lucky thirteen.” He grinned, planted a kiss on her mouth. “Follow me.”

  Soon the two of them were sharing a tub filled with steaming hot water. He reached for her shaving gel and her razor.

  Her pulse spiked. “What do you think you’re doing with those?”

  “Just watch.” He filled his palm with lather, then rose to his knees and began to shave himself, slowly and carefully removing the hair around the base of his penis and on his testicles, leaving himself smooth.

  Laura watched, both fascinated and more than a little aroused. She’d never watched this process before, never had a lover who’d gone all the way with manscaping, never watched a man handle himself so casually. And it turned her on.

  He rinsed the foamy gel away to reveal his half-hard cock. She never would have asked him or any other man to do this, but now that he had, she kind of liked it. Somehow it made him seem . . . bigger. The skin of his pubic area and testicles was darker than the rest of his body, the sight of his bare package deeply erotic.

  He tossed the razor cartridge and put on a new one. “Now I’m going to take care of you.”

  “Me?” Her belly clenched.

  He had her stand with first one leg raised on the side of the tub and then the other, his shaving her becoming an act of foreplay. The stroke of the razor over sensitive skin. The pressure of his fingers as he held her skin taut. Hot water as he rinsed her again and again. And what he was saying to her . . .

  “I want to taste you so bad. I want to bury my tongue inside you.”

  She barely had the patience to wait for him to finish, but standing as she was, her balance precarious, his hands between her thighs with a razor, his face so close she felt the heat of his breath on her inner thighs, all she could do was hold on.

  When he’d rinsed her one last time, he scooped her into his arms, his mouth coming down on he
rs as he carried her to her bed in long, fast strides. He tossed her onto the mattress, grabbed her ankles, and dragged her toward him until her hips cleared the edge of the bed, forcing her legs apart. And then his mouth was on her.

  “Oh, yes!”

  This was the Javier she remembered.

  She dug her fingers into his hair, so aroused by these exquisite new sensations that she found herself already hovering on the edge. Bare like this, every inch of her vulva was available for him to lick and nip and taste. He drew her glossy pink labia into the scorching heat of his mouth, tugged and sucked on her aching clit, teased her entrance with the tip of his tongue until she thought she would come apart. And then she shattered, orgasm singing through her, leaving her breathless and trembling.

  She felt the mattress shift as Javier stretched out beside her. She opened her eyes, smiled at him, then rolled onto him and slid down his body and off the bed, coming to rest on her knees on the floor. “I want to make you feel good—just as good as you made me feel.”

  He sat up, his erect cock bobbing as he shifted, his gaze locked with hers. He reached out, traced a finger down her cheek. “Oh, I know you will.”

  Without breaking eye contact, she licked him a few times, base to swollen tip, and heard his breath leave him in a slow exhale. Certain his newly shaved skin would be just as sensitive as hers, she lowered her mouth to the root of his cock, kissing and licking him there. He stiffened, his body jerking when her tongue slid over the bare skin of his testicles, his reaction encouraging her. She took them into her mouth one at a time, teasing their underside with her tongue, feeling them draw tight.

  Javier’s breath caught, his fingers sliding into her hair.

  She sat up taller and went to work on him with her tongue, circling the engorged head, flicking its satiny tip, her fingers encircling him, stroking him lazily. But he was just as impatient as she had been. She followed his cues, sliding her mouth and hand as one up and down the length of him, moving faster, increasing the pressure, and bringing him to a quick finish in her hand, his hips jerking off the bed as he came.