Critical Exposure

by Ann Voss Peterson

  Echo grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

  Heat pulsed through Rand’s suit coat where her fingers grasped his sleeve. Even her touch was soft. Gentle. He could imagine her fingers on his bare skin. Moving across his chest, down over his belly. Her featherlight caress arousing him. Hardening him. Until she reached lower and took him in her hand.

  His pants grew tight.

  What in the hell was he thinking? What was he doing, fantasizing about sex when he was supposed to be questioning a witness?

  And more important, how could he stop?

  It was happening again. The same thing that had happened yesterday. But instead of fear, instead of depression and the wish for death, lust had claimed his mind. His lust for Echo Sloane.

  Please, don’t let her notice. Please, let her be looking somewhere else.

  He glanced at her.

  Her eyes were averted, but she wasn’t looking somewhere else. She was staring straight at his crotch. She moved her gaze up his body and met his eyes. “You feel it, too. Don’t you?”

  Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it kindled inside him like a flame. Building. Growing.

  She searched his eyes. Tilting her head back, she parted her lips.

  He stepped close and lifted a hand to touch her hair. Silken strands sifting through his fingers, he pushed it back from that incredible, heart-shaped face. He needed to kiss her, learn what she tasted like, learn how she felt. Not able to resist a moment longer, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  She tasted sweeter than he could have imagined, and he couldn’t get enough. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body tight to his, tangling his tongue with hers, devouring her like a starving man.

  This couldn’t be happening. He must be out of his mind. Dreaming. Hallucinating. He’d been attracted to Echo since he met her. To her body, of course. Any man would be. But even more to the fierce determination that made that soft body come alive.

  But attraction was normal. Something he could keep in check. That wasn’t what he felt now. Now he was obsessed beyond reason. He had to have her.

  A moan rose in his throat. He cupped her breast, kneading the softness, feeling her nipple harden and press against the confinement of her bra. His body trembled with the need to remove her clothes, to caress her naked skin.

  This was insanity. Desire he couldn’t control. He couldn’t stop. He had to take her. Right here. Right now. He couldn’t live unless he buried himself inside her.

  He couldn’t live.

  “Oh, man, this is better than any movie.”

  Hell. Vanderhoven was watching, staring at them from his bed. Rand couldn’t tell if he was affected too. Maybe that was why he was watching porn. Maybe that was why he was egging them on now. Maybe there was something in the air in this room, an experiment of Dr. Morton’s. But whatever Vanderhoven was feeling or Morton was up to, Rand didn’t care. He could think of only one thing. And he had to get Echo away from him before he totally lost control.

  He grabbed her arms, pulling her hands off him. “Echo, you’ve got to go.”

  “I need you. Right now.” Confusion streaked across her face, followed by hurt.

  Hurt that he’d caused. He gritted his teeth. “No.”

  “But you want me, too. Don’t you want me, too?”

  More than she could know. “Get out. Now.” He steered her toward the door.

  Her back straightened, rigid.

  “Go.” Please.

  She marched for the door without looking back, passionate anger in each abrupt sway of her hips.

  God help him.

  She closed the door with a slam.

  Rand shut his eyes and struggled to keep himself from following. He wanted to catch up to her, take her into a vacant room, give in to the heat surging through his body. Dragging in a deep breath, he turned to face Vanderhoven.

  “Sloane’s sister sure is a hot little number,” Van derhoven said. “Although I wish you would have at least undressed her before you pushed her out.”

  What Rand wouldn’t give to knock the smile off Vanderhoven’s face. Anger buzzed through him, almost as hard to control as his lust for Echo. Gritting his teeth, he strode to the television and yanked the cord from the wall.

  “Hey, you have no right to do that.”

  “No more games, Vanderhoven. You’re going to tell me what you know about Bray Sloane, and you’re going to tell me now.”

  “I have no problem telling you anything you want to know about Bray Sloane. Believe me, after what he’s put me through, I’m not about to protect him.”

  Rand’s gut hitched. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Bray Sloane set off the explosion. He nearly killed me and his partner.” He folded his hands behind his head.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “I don’t think it. I know it. I heard him talking about it. On his cell phone.”

  “When?”

  “After the explosion. He thought I was unconscious. He thought I didn’t hear. He was wrong. I heard every word.”

  The muscles in Rand’s neck cramped until he wasn’t sure he could turn his head. He’d come here to get the full story from Vanderhoven, and now he didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want it to be true. “What did he say?”

  “That he wanted his money.”

  “And you’re sure he was talking about the explosion?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Do you have any idea where he went after that?”

  Vanderhoven shook his head. “I must have passed out. When I woke up, I was here puking my guts out and having those damn dreams. But you might want to go out there and ask his sister.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because before I lost consciousness, I heard him making another call. And I heard him say her name.”

  Chapter Five

  “Whatever Wesley Vanderhoven thought he heard, he’s wrong. He misunderstood.” Echo marched down the sidewalk outside the Beech Grove Clinic. She knew it had been a mistake letting Detective McClellan kick her out of Vanderhoven’s room before she’d gotten her answers. If she hadn’t been so muddled, so confused, so…carried away, she never would have let it happen.

  Her cheeks heated with thoughts of how she’d kissed him. She’d never gotten so carried away in her life. Especially with some guy she didn’t even know, let alone trust. And not only had she embarrassed herself, she’d blown her whole reason for going to Beech Grove.

  “He remembers very clearly what your brother said. He also remembers Bray making another call. And saying your name.”

  She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “Why would he say my name?”

  “You tell me.”

  His implication dawned on her. “You think I talked to Bray after the explosion? You think I know where he is?”

  “Vanderhoven seems to think so.”

  “He’s wrong. If I knew where Bray was, do you really think I’d file a missing person’s report? Do you really think I would have spent over a week worried out of my mind?”

  “I can pull your brother’s cell phone records. I can see who he called.”

  “Then do it. You’ll see. He didn’t call anyone to demand his money, and he didn’t call me.” She didn’t know what else to say. It seemed the more she denied it, the more guilty she looked. “I don’t see why you’re taking Vanderhoven’s word about this. The man was the victim of a chemical explosion. He’s in a mental institution.”

  “He might not be the ideal witness, but that doesn’t mean he can’t remember at least some of what happened.”

  She thought about Vanderhoven’s strange lascivious comments. From the time she stepped in the door, he’d been out to get her, out to humiliate her. “Or maybe he’s just angry about what happened to him. Maybe it’s just easy for him to blame it on Bray, since he’s not here to defend himself.”

  “Maybe.”

  The word might imply he was open-minded, but judging by his tone of
voice, he’d already tried, convicted and sentenced Bray.

  And there was nothing she could do about it.

  RAND GROUND HIS TEETH together as he followed Echo across the parking lot to her car. Their discussion about her brother had gone about as well as he’d feared. Not only had she refused to believe a word Vanderhoven said, judging by the abrupt swing of her hips, she was angry.

  Really angry.

  Just about the worst state of mind for her to be in for what he needed to ask. “Echo, wait.”

  She kept walking, heading for a piece-of-junk car that looked as if it had seen better days. “I’m sorry, Detective,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I can’t stomach any more of your accusations against my brother. I’ve had plenty for one morning.”

  “It’s not about your brother.”

  Reaching the car, she slid her key in the lock, opened the door and climbed inside.

  He slipped between the open door and the car frame. Crouching, he blocked her from closing him out. “I need to talk to you.”

  “We already talked. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to stop for diapers on the way home, and my babysitter has an afternoon class.”

  “This will only take a second.” He might be crazy for bringing up what had happened in Beech Grove, or he might just be crazy. Whatever the case, he had to know if she felt the strange emotional effects in Vanderhoven’s room, too. He had to know if there was something strange going on at Beech Grove, or if he really did need that appointment with the shrink he’d set for this afternoon. “Please.”

  She let out a sigh. “Okay. What is it?”

  He looked into her big gray eyes. Now that he had her attention, how in the hell was he supposed to ask without seeming like a lunatic—even if that was what he was? “Did you feel something happen in there?”

  “Something? Like what?”

  Was she really not sure what he was talking about? Even now all he could think about was their kiss. Of being so caught up in the press of her body against his that he couldn’t focus on anything else. “You really don’t know?”

  A crease formed between her eyebrows. “You’re talking about our kiss, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Did you feel it?” he asked again. “That your emotions were getting away from you. That they were too strong to control.”

  Her frown softened, ever so slightly. But she held her lips tight, as if she was reluctant to trust him with what she had to say.

  How could he blame her? “Did you feel anything like that? I really have to know.” He sounded as though he was coming on to her, but he didn’t know how else to ask. He didn’t want to tell her what he suspected. Especially since he had no way of knowing if it was anything but wishful thinking on his part.

  “Is that what you felt? That you couldn’t control yourself?”

  A heavy feeling sank into his gut. “You didn’t?”

  She gave him a troubled look that he didn’t know how to read. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Not exactly what he was after. For him the feeling had been so strong, there had been nothing else. The way he burned to touch her. The ache to plunge inside. It had taken over every part of him. There was no guessing involved.

  She narrowed her eyes to gray slits. “What is this really about? If you think this is going to make me tell you I know where Bray is, you’re nuts. I don’t know.”

  So that was what she thought of him. That he’d try to seduce her in order to get her to turn in her brother? “I told you, this is not about your brother.”

  “And why should I believe that?”

  He shook his head. He had no reasons to give her, no reasons she’d buy. “For the last time, I’m not trying to blame your brother. I’m trying to find the truth.”

  She stared at him unblinking.

  He was obviously not going to get any of the answers he needed until he came clean with her. Or at least as clean as he dared. “A cop was killed at Cranesbrook Associates yesterday. A cop I knew.”

  “And you think Bray did it?” She shook her head, as if she’d never heard something so stupid in her life.

  “I don’t know who did it. But this mess involving Cranesbrook and Beech Grove isn’t going to end until I find out who’s behind it.”

  “It’s not Bray.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe you’re right. But even if he’s not guilty of anything, it’s just as important that I find him. He could be a witness.”

  She nodded, as if she just might accept this answer. “So what does that have to do with what I may have felt in Vanderhoven’s room?”

  He didn’t know. His suspicions might be nothing more than wishful thinking. “I need to understand it.”

  “What’s to understand? People are attracted to each other. People even have sex.”

  So she was attracted? “That wasn’t normal at traction, Echo. Not what I felt. It was so strong, it was like being insane.”

  The troubled look returned to her eyes. “Listen, I ended a relationship not too long ago. Or rather, he ended it. And after being abandoned by the father of my baby, I don’t have the stomach for any kind of attraction. Normal or not.”

  She didn’t understand. She must not have felt what he had. Maybe it was all in his head. A product of stress and lack of sleep. A mental breakdown. “The last thing I want is a relationship, Echo. That’s not why I was asking.”

  “Well, there you go.” She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and stared through the windshield. “I’m glad we got this all settled. Now I have to go, if you don’t mind.”

  He forced his cramping legs to straighten and stepped back from the car, allowing her to slam the door.

  She leaned forward, turning the key in the ignition. The engine clicked, but didn’t fire. She turned the key again. Face pink, she slammed her hands on the wheel.

  He shouldn’t get any more involved with Echo Sloane. She had a cell phone. She could call a tow truck. She didn’t need him. But somehow he couldn’t make himself believe that. He couldn’t walk away. Just seeing that frustrated pinch to her mouth made him want to protect her. Fix things for her. Put a smile on those lips.

  He grabbed the handle and opened her door. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “HERE, LET ME carry it for you.”

  “No problem.” Gripping the grocery bag filled with diapers and teething crackers, she thrust herself out of the passenger seat of Rand’s sedan and walked past his outstretched arms. She had planned to do a bigger grocery shopping, but wandering through the aisles with the detective on her heels had made that impossible. She couldn’t even remember what she needed, let alone organize herself enough to find it in the store. She just wanted to get home. Get away from him.

  And she sure as heck didn’t want him to step foot inside her home. Being around him while she was feeling so raw and vulnerable—and attracted—was a trick too cruel to be believed.

  She ran up the steps to her tiny house without looking back, unlocked the door and slipped inside. Blowing out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it.

  The low sound of a woman weeping caught her ear. “Shanna?”

  No answer. Only more crying.

  Echo peered in the direction of the sound, the dark hallway leading back to Zoe and her bedrooms. Had something happened to the babysitter? Had something happened to Zoe? Her heartbeat launched into double time. She scurried into the hall, willing her eyes to adjust to the dim light. “Shanna? What’s wrong?”

  Shanna curled on the floor along the wall. Her crying wobbled, but Echo couldn’t decipher the words.

  Echo fell to her knees beside the young woman. “Shanna? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  “Oh, God,” Shanna forced out between sobs.

  Echo smoothed the girl’s hair back from her damp cheek. “Slow down. Try to breathe.”

  “I…couldn’t…stop…him.”

  “What?”

  “He’s…” She choked out a sputte
ring cough. “In…her…room.”

  Echo raised her gaze to the door at the end of the hall. Zoe’s room. Was someone inside? A man? “Who, Shanna? Who’s in Zoe’s room?”

  The girl hiccupped. “I…don’t…know.”

  Down the hall, the door opened. A man’s head peered out—his face covered by a black ski mask and dark sunglasses.

  He held Zoe in his arms.

  A wave washed over Echo. Fear, desperation and incredible anger. She scrambled to her feet. “Give me my daughter!”

  The man didn’t say a word, didn’t take a step. He merely stared at her.

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Balling her hands into fists, she launched herself down the hall. “Give me my daughter!”

  He shot out a fist, clipping her jaw.

  She slammed against the wall. Her head spun. She clung to the wall, keeping herself standing with willpower alone.

  He pushed past her, jabbing an elbow into her back as he went by.

  Pain ripped down her spine, but she willed herself to stay on her feet.

  He stepped over Shanna without stopping, without looking.

  Shanna’s body tightened into a ball. Sobs shrieked from her lips.

  The man strode for the door. Zoe’s wails rose from his arms. As if she knew he was taking her. As if she knew she’d never see her mommy again.

  Echo forced her mind to clear, to focus. She couldn’t let him leave the house. She couldn’t let him take her baby.

  She pushed herself away from the wall and staggered forward. Fear blinded her. Desperation filled her throat, as hot as the taste of blood. Focusing the swirl of emotion to a point—a point centered on Zoe—she pushed on.

  As if in slow motion he grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open. Light pierced the dark room. His silhouette slipped through the doorway, stepped onto the stoop.

  She got to the door. She had to stop him. Reaching through the opening, she grasped the arm of his black trench coat and she held on.

  He pulled his arm back, tearing the fabric from her grip. Then he yanked the door closed, pinching her arm against the jamb.