by Barb Han
“We have a name,” she said.
“We sure do. And he matches the description, too.”
“Thomas Kramer. Wasn’t he one of the suspects?” Rebecca asked.
Ryan started the SUV, put the ignition into Drive and pulled away from his uncle’s house. His worst fears put to rest, he looked relieved for the first time since this ordeal had begun.
“It’s familiar.” Brody checked his phone. “Sure is.”
They owed the encampment a visit. He checked his watch. The festival wouldn’t start for hours. It would be more difficult to find Lester with those costumes on. Brody wished he’d asked what job Thomas Kramer had at the festival.
With this being the last night, Brody had very little time to work with. He wasn’t sure it was safe for him to go on his own to the RV park where festival workers kept a close watch.
Based on the protection details they had going, it wouldn’t surprise Brody if they carried guns for night duty.
Did they know they’d had a kidnapper among them? Were their efforts to keep out locals like they’d said, or were they protecting their own from a threat within? Lester had said that they’d started patrolling based on the grocery store attack.
In hindsight, their efforts seemed larger than the crime. A local woman was mugged at the grocery store and suddenly they’re setting up patrols, attacking anything that moves in the woods?
Seemed like on over-the-top reaction to what the sheriff’s office had said was a random occurrence.
Chapter Twelve
This was the closest Rebecca had been to a breakthrough in the case in years—she could feel it. Energy hummed through her at the thought they could be getting close to solving a fifteen-year-old puzzle and possibly finding her brother.
Thoughts buzzed around in her head. If Kramer had been a suspect, why would they have let him go? Wouldn’t the sheriff have interviewed him? What about the FBI?
Of course, there were more leads than people to handle them back then. Even at twelve, Rebecca had known that much.
Ryan had been quiet for the entire half-hour trip so far. “My uncle is a drunk. It’s possible he’s remembering the name wrong.”
“I thought about that,” Brody said, flashing a knowing look toward Rebecca. “Never hurts to take it seriously, though.”
Rebecca knew both men were trying to soften the blow if this turned out to be a nonlead, and she loved them for it.
* * *
BY THE TIME Ryan had dropped them at the restaurant where Brody’s truck was still parked, Rebecca’s thoughts ping-ponged from Thomas Kramer to Brody.
They had a name, Thomas Kramer, and the very real possibility he would lead her to the truth.
For the rest of the ride to Brody’s place, she vacillated between excitement and fear. Questions assaulted her. What if they’d found him? What if they hadn’t?
What if they wrapped this case and she and Brody walked away from each other for good?
The truth was that she liked being close, having him depend on her. Making sure he ate and didn’t overexert himself were things that made her ridiculously happy.
There was something so right about taking care of Brody.
He’d barely set his keys on the table in the foyer when she said, “I’ll grab the letters to see if one of them is signed by Kramer.”
“While you do that, I’ll see if I can find any news about him or an address,” Brody said, moving to the laptop in the kitchen.
When he came back into the open-concept room, he brought the laptop with him and moved to the sofa. “It’s more comfortable over here if you’d like to join me.”
She did, tucking her foot under her bottom as she sat down. They had a name. And she had a feeling this all would be over soon. “We’re getting close.”
“We don’t know if Thomas Kramer is our guy yet. If not, this isn’t the end.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks despite her best efforts to hold them back. She hadn’t expected to get so emotional with him, dammit.
“You told me something the other day and it made a hell of a lot of sense,” he said.
Wiping a few tears away, she said, “What was that?”
“Holding in emotion is dangerous. Not talking about the things that bother us, bottling them up, doesn’t lead to anything good. And I think you’re putting on a brave front right now.”
His words hit home and the floodgates opened. Tears streamed and she couldn’t hold them back if she’d tried.
“Get over here,” he said.
Rebecca was in his arms before she could recount all the reasons this would be a bad idea, her face buried in his strong chest.
“You’re scared and there’s nothing wrong with that,” he said, his voice a deep, steady timbre. His quiet strength was like the river that cut through granite.
This was the closest she’d been to figuring out the past.
Rebecca pulled herself together. “I’ll be okay.”
She picked up the stack of letters and set them on her lap.
Brody kissed her forehead before opening the file on his laptop.
It didn’t take long for him to say, “Look here.”
Her heart skipped a beat as she read the screen. “Are those notes from his interview?”
“Looks like it,” Brody said. “Did you notice this?”
“He had a child who died at age seven,” she said, horrified. “Wouldn’t that make him a prime suspect?”
“I would think so,” Brody said quickly, his eyes skimming the file. “Here. It says that his alibi checked out and that’s why he was cleared of suspicion.”
“It says he was caring for a sick aunt that weekend,” Rebecca said. “She could’ve lied for him.”
“I’d put money on it.”
“Any chance we can find his address?” she asked.
Brody minimized the window on his screen and then pulled up a search engine. He tapped the keys on the keyboard. “Nothing. Although, his address might not be listed.”
“Or he could live with someone else. Another relative,” she said.
“True.” Brody rocked his head.
“Any chance his aunt’s name and address is in that report?” Rebecca’s pulse raced in her chest.
Brody pulled up the file and scrolled through the entire page. “It’s not here. When we go to the festival tonight, I’ll ask Lester about Kramer.”
“I feel like we should be doing something more right now,” she said, feeling antsy. Answers were close. She could feel it.
“We are,” he said. “And we will. I know patience is difficult right now, believe me, but the truth will come out soon enough.”
“I want to talk to this Kramer guy.”
“We will,” he reassured. “Right now, there’s not much more we can do until we talk to Lester tonight.”
“You’re probably right.” Her heart trilled against her rib cage and she needed to slow down her breathing, find a way to calm herself.
Looking around Brody’s place, at the comfortable decor, she could see herself living in something like this with him. In fact, this was exactly the kind of place she’d live in if she had a ranch. She loved the open space of the landscape, and the Texas sky was nowhere brighter in the day or more majestic at night than in Mason Ridge. Chicago had been wonderful, too, for different reasons. And mostly, it had been different.
Walking down the street there she could be anyone. She was no longer “that girl.” No one whispered.
And yet, Mason Ridge would always be home in her heart.
Was it because Brody was there?
“I didn’t leave you all those years ago, Brody, so much as run away from here, from everything I felt. I needed to sort out my emotions, but I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry.”
Brody lifted her chin until her face was raised and she looked into his clear blue eyes. She’d expected to find pity in them, but instead she saw something hungry, something primal. Need?
“Wha
t time should we leave?” she asked.
“We have a little while. The festival workers will be setting up for opening soon so I doubt we’d get in without a warrant, which we don’t have.”
“We have a little time to kill?” Rebecca ran her finger along Brody’s strong jawline. Neither looked away.
Chapter Thirteen
Brody felt Rebecca’s heartbeat pounding against his chest. The rapid rhythm matched his own. With her in his arms, he felt an emotion that was foreign to him—intimacy. And an overwhelming need to pick her up, take her to his bed and show her just how much a woman she’d become overtook him.
He’d experienced need but nothing matching the intensity of this feeling.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized being this close was a bad idea. Staring into her honey-brown eyes, the smell of her shampoo drowning his sense, and all reasoning flew out the window.
Just when he thought he might be able to stop this from going any further, she shifted position enough to pull her shirt over her head and drop it on the floor.
“You can tell me no if you think this is a bad idea, Brody.” The way his name rolled off her tongue made him want to hear her say it again and again as his tongue moved down her neck.
She stood and shimmied out of her jeans. Underneath, she wore matching lace panties.
Blood pulsed toward his already uncomfortably stiff length.
He tugged her toward him until she was standing in front of him, his hands to either side of her hips. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on her stomach. “You have no idea how badly I want to do this.”
He looked up at her as she stood there with defiance in her stare.
“But?”
“No buts. I want to make love to you, Rebecca. Now it’s your turn to take an out, because I’ve already made up my mind. If you have any doubts about what we’re about to do, you’re going to have to be the one to stop this. In about two seconds, I won’t be able to so I need to know that you want this. Me.”
“It’s always been you, Brody. I’ve always wanted you.”
That was all the encouragement he needed. Standing, rising to his full height, he dipped his head down and claimed her mouth. Their lips molded together as he slid his tongue inside her mouth, the need to taste her overtaking every rational thought.
Her hands traveled across his chest, moving upward until they tunneled in his hair, pulling and tugging as her tongue swirled inside his mouth. She tasted so sweet.
His shirt joined hers on the floor.
By the time he reached for the zipper of his jeans, her hands were already there, so he let her do the honors. A second later, his pants were tossed on top of hers.
There in his living room wearing nothing but a bra and panties was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. She needed to hear it. “Rebecca, you’re gorgeous, sexy.”
Thoughts of the innocent kisses they’d stolen in high school were a world away. High school was a world away. And Brody couldn’t say he was especially sorry they weren’t those same two people they’d been.
He’d grown up, become a man.
His Rebecca, still sweet, had an incredibly sexy side. He’d noticed the way men looked at her. He didn’t like it.
“I missed you, sweetheart.”
“I’m right here, Brody,” she said.
Standing now, he felt an all-too-familiar tug at his heart. Rebecca was the only one who affected him in that way, who reached beyond the mask of strength he wore. With her, he felt a strangely comfortable sense of vulnerability.
This time, he kissed her.
Their mouths moving together, the heat between them rose as his hands moved along her stomach, her breast. He palmed one and her nipple beaded against his palm.
It was her silky bra that hit the floor next. She was all curves and soft skin, and his groin tightened when he really saw her.
Brody took her by the hand and led her to his room.
By the time she was on the bed, all of their clothes littered the floor. Rebecca on his bed. He liked the sound of those words more than he should.
“Do you have protection? There hasn’t been a need for me to be on the pill,” she said.
“That can wait.”
On his knees, he ran his finger along the tender flesh of the insides of her thighs. Her body quivered along the stroke of his hands.
“Brody, I want you now.”
“I have no plans to rush this.” It had been a long time since Brody had been interested enough in a woman to take her to bed. He’d stopped doing casual sex.
Looking at Rebecca, at the perfection that was her, everything in his body begged for quick release, but self-discipline was his middle name and he had every intention of enjoying this to the fullest.
“Brody, are you planning to torture me by making me wait?” She sat up, took his arm and tried to urge him toward her. Her face was flush with need, and he felt her body humming with anticipation. “Because I can’t.”
He smiled at her, moving just out of her reach. She was everything he wanted in a woman—beautiful, intelligent, sexy. And not one female had lived up to the standard she’d set so many years ago.
“As a matter of fact, I had something different in mind.” He leaned forward and kissed her to disarm her.
Tucking his hands underneath her sweet round bottom, he tilted her until her head rested on his pillow again.
“No fair...” She pouted until she seemed to realize what he was doing.
She was already wet for him when he inserted three fingers inside her and so he was the one who groaned.
He worked her mound with his thumb as he dipped his fingers again and again, loving the way her body moved and the sensual moans she made.
Pulsing faster, deeper, harder, her muscles clenched and released around his fingers.
“Brody,” she whispered breathlessly.
He would never get tired of hearing her say his name.
* * *
REBECCA SHOULD BE embarrassed at how quickly she’d climaxed. She wasn’t. Everything with Brody seemed right and the sexual tension between them had been building since they’d met up at the coffee shop the other morning. If she were being totally honest, it had been building long before that. In high school, they were too young to really know what it was or do anything about it.
Even though he’d tipped her over the edge once already, she wanted more. She needed to feel his weight on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. Him moving inside her.
She pushed up on her elbows, watching as his shaky hands managed the condom. “You need help with that?”
“I think I got it.” He rolled it over his tip.
She reached over and guided it down his large shaft.
His guttural groan at her touch nearly drove her crazy. She wanted him to feel everything he’d just given her and so much more.
Pulling him over her, opening her legs to welcome him, he released a sexy grunt as he drove inside her. She opened her legs more, adjusting to his length.
Her hands mapped the lines of his back, memorizing everything that was Brody, and he thrust deeper, reaching her core. She matched his intensity, craving, needing more and more as they rocketed toward the edge.
He pulled out a little, his tip still inside, and tensed.
“What is it, Brody? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It feels a little too right and I’m already there. I want this to last.”
“Don’t stop now. We can always do it again.”
His smile faded as he reached the depth of his first thrust. She bucked her hips, needing to fly over the edge with him.
Harder. Faster. Deeper.
More.
Their bodies, twined, exploded with pleasure. A thousand bombs detonated at once, sending volts of electricity and pleasure rocketing through her. She could feel him pulsing inside her as her muscles clenched around his length.
When he’d drained her of the last spasm, he pulled out
and folded on his side next to her. The weight of his arm over her, his touch, quieted any protest trying to tell her that this might have been a bad idea. His heart raced, matching her tempo, as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. And then another to her forehead as he pulled her in closer. His body was soft skin over powerful muscle, silk over steel.
She wanted to say the three words roaring through her mind but stopped herself, refusing to think about the fact that he had built a life in Mason Ridge and she was a temporary resident.
Being with Brody was dangerous but far from wrong, even if it wouldn’t last.
* * *
BRODY WOKE WITH a start. He’d only dozed off for half an hour and yet it had felt like so much longer. No doubt the result of a satisfied sleep that came with the best sex of his life. Rebecca lay still in his arms, the scent of her citrus and flowery shampoo filling the air around him. He could get used to breathing her in, lying next to her all night. Part of him wished they could stay right there.
The window of opportunity to track down Lester and, therefore, find Thomas Kramer, was closing.
In a few hours, it would be dark outside and the fireworks show would begin over the lake, signaling the end of the weeklong festivities.
The workers would scatter as the break-down crew went to work. By morning, there’d be nothing left of the festival but memories. He slowly peeled her arm off him, careful not to disturb her.
There was enough time for him to make a cup of coffee and he wanted to let her sleep as long as possible.
It took all the self-discipline he possessed to disengage himself from her soft, warm body. Drawing on what was left of his willpower, he slipped out of the covers, located his boxers and put them on.
One last look at her while she lay there, her shimmering chestnut hair splayed across the pillow, and everything in his crazy world seemed right.
How long would it last?
Rebecca had been clear. She would leave town and not look back the minute she could.
He turned and walked out of the room.
The coffee was ready in a couple of minutes. His housekeeper had given good advice about stocking the shelves. And he was all right living by himself, wasn’t he?
