Deathtrap (Broslin Creek)

by Dana Marton

  Need and urgency filled her, and a sense of rightness she’d never felt before.

  His large hands moved down to cup her bottom, and he fit her tightly against him. Her breath got caught in her throat.

  And for a second, her body battered by overwhelming sensations, she grew unsure. Could she really handle this? “Stop.”

  He did so immediately, his breathing ragged. He set her down and backed away from her in the only direction he could, the kitchen, putting some distance between them. The bulge behind the zipper of his pants was gratifying. But the speed with which they’d reached this point scared her a little.

  “Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at her, dazed. “This is crazy. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

  And weirdly, him saying that made her feel better and set her at ease. She was in control. One word and he would walk away. Or stay. Whatever she wanted.

  “I just…” She hesitated. “It’s a little scary.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you. In any way.”

  “I know.” She really did, which was a surprise.

  She hadn’t been particularly looking for anyone after Jeremy, and she wouldn’t have been looking for someone like Bing, if she had. She’d just wanted to get her life straightened out, wanted to start building a future for herself. But then Bing had come into her life.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  He nodded. “That’s the hardest.”

  “You said we shouldn’t be doing this…”

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  She drew a deep breath. “I think I do.” She took one slow step, then another, to close the distance between them. She lifted her lips.

  He brushed his own softly across them. “You’re a gift I don’t deserve.”

  “I’m a mess.”

  He kissed her fully. Smiled when he pulled back a little. “Let’s compromise.”

  “Mift?”

  The smile widened. “I meant as in we’ll just kiss instead of arguing semantics.”

  She liked that plan. He really was a smart man. But maybe they could do a little more than kissing.

  Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt. He wasn’t in uniform today, but he was armed. He let her go for a second to take his gun out of the holster and set it on the counter.

  She tugged the shirt out of his jeans and pulled it off him. He dragged his white T-shirt off himself. Then her hands were on his bare chest, warm skin and a smattering of coarse hair under her seeking fingertips.

  She laid her cheek against all that warmth and kissed his collarbone as he folded his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She raised her lips to him to give him something better for kissing.

  His hands were at her waist and sneaking under her sweater, reaching bare skin and moving up slowly as he drew circles on her abdomen and rib cage. Then he finally reached the underwire of her bra.

  He didn’t ask for permission or fret if it might be too much for her. His large hands simply moved up and cupped her through the thin lace. And as he captured her mouth, she moaned against his lips.

  He bent and hooked his hands under her thighs, lifting her onto the counter, so they were at eye level with each other. “You’re more than I deserve.”

  She had no idea what he meant unless it was more trouble. She stiffened when he reached for the hem of her sweater. “Wait.”

  Again, he stilled. And held her gaze.

  “I have scars.”

  “I figured you would. I’ve seen scars before.”

  “They’re ugly.” Running down the middle of her chest, the main scar made her look as if she’d been cut in half. And there were others.

  “It’s a nonissue.” But he waited patiently for her to make a decision.

  So she nodded. He didn’t rush. He undressed her gently, little by little, giving her ample time to get used to the process. His demeanor never changed as her scars were revealed. The heat in his eyes never dimmed.

  When he reached out and traced the lace of her bra with a finger, hot need shot through her, clearing all thought from her mind. “Please.”

  He bent his head to her breasts, his hands going around her back and snapping the bra open. He didn’t rush. He unveiled her, then worshipped every inch of her breasts with his seeking lips.

  Her hands on his shoulders, her back arched, her head falling back. Desire and pleasure swirled through her when his mouth found her nipple. Then heaven.

  Too much.

  But she wanted even more. And since this was the new Sophie, she went for it.

  She reached for his belt buckle, undid that, then the zipper, and pushed his pants down as far as she could. “Now.”

  Being in charge was a heady feeling.

  But still he wouldn’t hurry.

  He undressed her little by little, spending way too long on admiring her matching panties.

  Then they were both naked at last, or naked enough. But, unbelievably, he stepped away instead of stepping closer, pain etched on his face as he let his head drop back. “I don’t have… It’s been a while.”

  Oh. She dug through her purse on the counter without looking, pulled out a condom, and ripped the wrapper. “Here.”

  He looked at her as Stone Age people must have looked at the first guy who brought home fire—with sheer gratitude and wonder. Then a huge grin spread on his face.

  He rolled on the condom and settled himself between her legs, holding her gaze as he slid into her inch by slow inch, filling her.

  “Sophie.” Her name was like a prayer on his lips, his voice shaky. He groaned. “I was going to take this slow.”

  “I don’t think it’s too fast. It’s just right.” Perfect.

  “I meant, a few weeks of dating before we got to this point.” He began to move, his face a study in fierce concentration. He closed his eyes before he whispered. “Who was I kidding? I can’t resist you.”

  She felt like a sex goddess just then. Another first.

  He moved inside her slowly, deliberately, holding her, kissing her, building spirals of bliss inside her body.

  She had no idea how much time passed. All she knew was that her bones were liquefying. When pleasure exploded through her at last and she collapsed in his arms, she was completely spent.

  He was breathing hard into her ear, leaning against the counter as if it was the only thing holding him up.

  His cell phone rang somewhere on the floor.

  He groaned as he pulled away, steadying her to make sure she didn’t slide off. “You’re going to be the death of me. I’m an old man. Cop years count double. I don’t know if I can take this much excitement.”

  Then he leaned back to kiss her hard one last time. “Well, hell, I’m willing to die trying.”

  Chapter Ten

  Bing listened to the phone and watched her dress, thinking he better turn away or he’d take her all over again. He straightened his own clothing; then Joe said something on the other end of the line that drew his attention.

  “I was able to find a usable fingerprint on one of the bullets inside the magazine. I sent it to the lab.”

  On the gun that had been hidden under the azalea bush. Bing’s world snapped into focus. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

  “What is it?” Sophie asked as he hung up. She let the dog inside. “Do you have to go in?”

  He shook his head and dropped onto a kitchen chair behind him. What they’d shared just minutes ago suddenly seemed a million miles away.

  He was going to get the bastard. “Just a police update on something.”

  She stood there, trust and happiness on her face, looking at him with a great big smile. He had no second thoughts on what had happened between them. He wanted her. He wanted her in his life. But if he had to put that off a little longer to catch Stacy’s killer, then that was what he’d do. He needed to close the book on the past. Stacy deserved justice. Sophie deserved a fresh
start.

  And Sophie deserved to know what was going on.

  He closed his eyes for a second and grimaced. “After you left, I dug up that stupid bush. The reason I didn’t want to was that Stacy planted it the day she died.”

  She lowered herself onto the chair across the table from him.

  “That’s what I always thought, anyway.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The muddy shovel was in the garage when I found her. Her muddy clothes were in the laundry room. I figured she worked some in the garden, went inside, went upstairs to clean up, and the killer was waiting for her up there.” He swallowed hard.

  “We can leave the azalea. I can put a memorial garden around it,” she suggested softly.

  He shook his head. “I dug it up after you left. And I found the murder weapon at the bottom of the hole. After all this time.” He was pretty sure the ballistics would come back as a match. He filled his lungs. “Best I can figure is, she started to plant the bush, and the rain interrupted her. It rained that afternoon. She went in. Got killed. On his way out, the killer saw the hole and dropped the gun in, then covered it up. That way he knew he’d never be caught with the murder weapon.”

  Her eyes were wide with compassion. “I’m so sorry.” She touched his hand.

  “There’s a print on one of the bullets.”

  “So you’ll know who did it?”

  “There’s a pretty good chance. People don’t usually start with murder. Criminals work their way up to it. If the killer has a record, there’ll be a match in the database.” And closure for him, at last. Closure for Stacy.

  “How soon will you know?”

  “Usually forty-eight to seventy-two hours.” He pushed to his feet.

  She stood and moved toward him, and put her arms around him and her head on his shoulder. Her heart beat against his as warmth and comfort suffused him. I don’t deserve her, he thought again. But he was going to take her anyway. If she would have him.

  “I should have been home that day. I went on a call that wasn’t even mine.”

  “You can’t possibly blame yourself.”

  He gave a sour laugh. “I failed as a man when I couldn’t protect my wife. I failed as a cop when I couldn’t bring her killer to justice. That’s a lot of failure to swallow for a guy like me.”

  “So you punish yourself by deciding not to be happy?”

  He put his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

  “I’m wise beyond my years. Everybody says so.”

  And with that, at last she managed to make him smile. “I have the morning shift. I need to be in by six. I’ll be gone before you wake up.” He walked back into the living room and lay down. “Good night, Sophie.”

  “Good night, Bing,” she said as she passed by him to go upstairs.

  The dog followed her up, then came back half an hour later and settled down by the couch next to Bing. He scratched Peaches around the collar. “She’s sleeping?”

  The dog yawned in response.

  “The two of us, we’ll protect her. All right, buddy?”

  * * *

  Birds chirping in her brand-new forest woke Sophie Sunday morning. She yawned as her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched on the queen-size bed—not so big that it would make her feel lonely but big enough to appear optimistic.

  She glanced at the alarm clock—five minutes past seven. Bing would be gone by now, fighting crime somewhere. A smile stole onto her face as she thought of him. Last night had been incredible.

  Peaches popped his head in the door.

  “I’m falling for him,” she confessed. “Isn’t he great?”

  The dog lolled his tongue, looking happy for her.

  “So the physical-attraction part obviously works between us,” she said as she sat up. “This could be the beginning of something.” New heart. New house. New love.

  She slipped out of bed, shuffled out to the bathroom, and washed her hands with disinfectant soap, twice. She was brushing her teeth when her phone rang. The hospital’s admin office.

  “I have some good news for you, Miss Curtis. Your donor records have been released. You can come in and pick up your copy any time after noon tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Sophie’s head buzzed as she hung up. “It’s a little nerve-racking,” she told Peaches as they went to make breakfast.

  She felt terrible for whoever the donor was. Thank God, it wasn’t Stacy. But if she found out that it’d been a young mother who left three little kids behind, she knew she would find that, too, difficult to deal with. “At least it’ll be closure.”

  She needed that as much as Bing did. They both had to have closure before they could truly move forward. Soon she would know about her donor, and Bing would get his wife’s killer. They could close the door on some of the past and start something new. Hopefully together.

  She made oatmeal for herself and scooped some dog food for Peaches. When the doorbell rang, the dog charged forward barking, tail wagging. She went too, with a smile on her face, expecting it to be Bing. Maybe he had a call out this way and he’d decided to check on her.

  But the smile turned into a frown as she opened the door. “Jeremy?”

  He wore designer slacks and a pink-and-purple-striped designer shirt, the gold watch that’d been a graduation present from his father, leather shoes that would have paid a month of her utilities. Sharp and clean-cut as always, he held out a large plastic cup of steaming coffee. “Decaf choco-mocha-chini with no-fat whipped cream.” He smiled, as handsome as ever, his blue eyes fast on her face. “Your favorite.”

  Drool gathered in her mouth as the delicious scent enveloped her. Okay. Five minutes. He’d helped her when she’d been sick; he’d stood up to her mother for her and supported her choice when she decided to go ahead with the transplant. He didn’t deserve to be turned away at the door.

  She reached down to grab the dog’s collar when Peaches would have pushed forward, growling. “I’m going to put him in the backyard. Let yourself in.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Her phone rang as Sophie closed the back door behind Peaches and turned to Jeremy. She took the call. Mark Villon. The sooner she finished this last project for him, the sooner she’d be rid of him.

  “I have just one more thing,” he said. “I bought an old abandoned row house on Twenty-Fourth Street last week. Any chance you could come out and take some pictures for the web site? I want before and after pictures. You’re better at the creative than I am. And then no more changes. I swear.”

  She’d done this for him before. For one, she had the right camera. “Sure. Let me call you back with a date once I have a chance to look at my calendar.”

  “I’d love to take you to lunch when you come out.”

  That wasn’t going to happen, but she didn’t want to argue about it on the phone, not in front of Jeremy. “I have to go. We’ll talk later.” She hung up. “Sorry,” she told Jeremy. “A client.”

  “You can’t be serious.” A frown marred Jeremy’s face. “You can’t have a dog in the house.” He glanced around as if looking for further evidence of irresponsible behavior.

  “He’s a stray. He’s only here temporarily.” An idea that she was beginning to hate. She’d gone from hoping someone would call to hoping that she could keep him.

  “He needs to go to a shelter. Right now.”

  “The shelter is full.”

  “Nonsense. I’m going to put him in the trunk, drive him over, and drop him off. End of story. They’ll have to take him.” He was using his in-charge voice, pushing closer. He stood just a few inches taller than she, blondish hair perfectly cut, fingernails trim, everything about him fastidious.

  She passed by him to wash her hands in the downstairs bathroom. By the time she came out, Jeremy had found her disinfectant spray under the sink and was spraying the floor everywhere the dog had walked. Memories assailed her, both good and bad. She pushed
them away.

  He caught her gaze, his lips pressed into a line. “This is beyond irresponsible.”

  “I’m being very careful,” she promised.

  He flashed her a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look, put away the spray bottle, washed his hands, then wiped them with a disinfectant wipe he pulled from the bag in his pocket. He glanced around again. “So this is it?”

  “All mine,” she said proudly.

  “It’s old.” He caught himself and softened his expression. “I just mean something new would be easier to clean. Something that doesn’t have decade-old dust and maybe mold and whatever.”

  “It’s cozy. I like it.”

  “Of course.” He smiled. “How have you been?”

  “I had a good checkup.”

  “I’m very happy to hear it.” He hesitated. “I missed you. Listen, I think I might have been rash. I think we made a mistake. I still love you.” His smile widened, an expectant look on his face as if he was giving a gift and was ready for the gratitude he’d be receiving. “I want you to come back.”

  “I live here now.” She shook her head. “We’re not getting back together.”

  He stared. “But you love me.”

  “I don’t. I’m sorry.” At this point, she wasn’t sure she ever truly had.

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I was grateful, more than anything. And I’m still grateful. I didn’t know what love was—”

  “And now you do?” he cut her off.

  “I’m beginning to learn.” Bing’s mocha eyes flashed into her mind and her heart skipped a beat. In a good way.

  There’d been a time when she’d hoped that Jeremy would see the light, accept her as she was now, and they would get back together. But things had changed. She had changed.

  He stayed for an hour and used the time to try to convince her of the error of her thinking. He left in a huff, angry and disappointed.

  She needed to get to work, so she let Peaches back in, then plodded up to her home office, planning out what she was going to cook for Bing for dinner. And daydreaming about them making love again.