When the Storm Breaks

by Heather Lowell

  “Well, it’s been great, but I’m working tomorrow,” Claire said. “Time for me to call it a night.”

  Aidan signaled to the bartender to close his tab. Sean and Olivia began to get ready to leave, reminding Claire once again that she had an audience listening to her dinner conversation, and every cheesy line her date was pulling out as well. Sean and Aidan both looked tense. They were watching Randy like a snake.

  Claire rolled her eyes. Great. Just what she needed—more testosterone. To prevent any type of confrontation, she hustled her date out the door. For once there was a cab waiting, and she all but shoved Randy into it.

  When the cab stopped in front of Camelot, Claire said briskly as she slid out, “Keep the cab. Good night.”

  She was nearly to the top of the stairs when she felt a hand on her arm. For an instant terror swept her—it was too much like her dreams, the ones where she didn’t escape and the killer reached out and caught her. After a few frantic seconds she realized it was her intoxicated date, not a serial murderer, who had grabbed her arm. With a shudder, she pulled her self-control into place.

  “Wait a sec,” Randy said, weaving slightly as he stood on the step next to her. “What kind of a good night is that?”

  “The only kind you’re going to get.”

  “C’mon, no need to be coy. We both know why we joined this dating service, so I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

  He grabbed her before she could answer. Onion-laced martini fumes made her gag. She pushed, and he held on harder. Then he pawed her breast and slimed her mouth with his tongue.

  To hell with this. She drove the spiky point of her heel right through soft Italian leather and into the most tender part of Randy’s foot, just as Aidan had taught her during their brief lesson in self-defense. Randy yelped and let go. She shoved him hard. Off balance from a combination of surprise and alcohol, he went over like a felled tree, tumbled down the shallow stairs, and landed in a heap at the bottom.

  Two seconds later Sean appeared out of nowhere, flipped Randy over on his face, and jammed a knee in his back. Once he was subdued, Sean searched him roughly.

  “What the fuck?…” Randy asked, dazed.

  “Is he all right?” she asked. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Get back,” Sean ordered.

  Claire caught a glimpse of his furious blue eyes and instinctively took a step back. “It’s all right. He’s not the killer.”

  “Let me handle this.” Sean didn’t look up from Randy as he spoke. “Get back up the stairs.”

  “But—”

  “Go.” This time it was Aidan giving orders as he ran up to the scene. He took Randy’s sports coat and turned it inside out, searching the pockets.

  Claire turned and marched back to the top of the stairs, furious with everyone and everything, and most of all with herself for shaking inside and for being grateful that she wasn’t alone. Dammit, she wasn’t a damsel in distress sniveling for a knight. She’d slain the pickled dragon herself.

  Arms crossed over her breasts, Claire watched as Sean called for a backup unit to take Randy to the hospital—and then to jail. Once Sean had finished his call, he turned and looked at her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked roughly.

  Unconsciously she rubbed her mouth. Ugh. Pickled onions. “Sure. He’s hardly the first guy to make a grab at getting lucky on a date.”

  Sean came up the stairs to stand next to her, towering over the extra height her heeled sandals gave her. “Why the hell didn’t you wait at the restaurant? You didn’t give us time to get into place. You got out of range with the microphone. I couldn’t hear what was happening.”

  “I—I didn’t realize you weren’t behind me.” She lifted her chin and faced his anger. “Contrary to Dr. Freud, I’m not whining for a man to save me. As you can see, I handled Randy just fine.”

  “It’s not your job to handle him. You’re supposed to let us do that. If you can’t follow simple instructions, you’re off the case.” Sean’s voice was like his eyes, coldly furious.

  “What—”

  “Is that clear?” Sean interrupted. “One word, yes or no.”

  She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but realized he was angry enough to pull her from the investigation. “Yes.”

  Sean saw that her eyes were dark and angry in the building’s outdoor lights. “Don’t glare at me like that. He may be a businessman now, but he’s a former college hockey player who’s used to violence and he’s a hell of a lot stronger and meaner than you are.”

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Randy mumbled from the bottom of the stairs.

  Nobody answered.

  Claire stared at Sean for a full minute without answering while the aftermath of fear, disgust, and adrenaline churned in her stomach. If she didn’t leave right now, she was going to lose it, throw herself at him, and confirm every word that smug shrink had said.

  “I take it we’re through here, Detective?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Claire went through the revolving door. She didn’t look back.

  “Well, shit.” Sean went back to something that made sense—his job.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Randy asked the pavement again.

  Both cops ignored him. “When will the backup be here?” Sean asked Aidan.

  “It’s Saturday night, he’s cuffed, and we’re overworked. It will be a while. You think he’s the killer?”

  “My gut says no, but we’ll run him again while he’s locked up.”

  “So, ah, what exactly are you going to charge him with?”

  Sean stared at his cousin. “Attempted assault.”

  Aidan hesitated. “Did Claire indicate in any way that she was in danger?”

  “I saw him grab her and she nailed him with her high heel.”

  Aidan grinned. “I told you she was a fast learner.”

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Randy asked. “I didn’t do anything. Can’t a guy kiss his date good night?”

  Sean looked at Randy. “Shut up, fucko.”

  “Could it have been a misunderstanding?” Aidan asked. “The guy thinks he’s going to score and his date lets him know otherwise?”

  “He pawed her,” Sean said tightly. “He grabbed her and pawed her like she was a ten-dollar whore. Drunken asshole.”

  Both of them heard the sound of running water transmitted through their earpieces, which were still activated. Then something glass shattered, followed by more sounds, running water, and something else.

  “Is she sick?” Aidan asked. Maybe Sean was right. Maybe they should charge Randy.

  “I’ll go check. You stay here with the Hockey Puke. And keep a lid on Olivia,” Sean added, nodding to the small car pulling up across the street.

  More liquid sounds came through the earphones as Sean ran through the lobby. He hesitated outside the women’s rest room. More gurgling sounds sent him inside.

  “Claire? Are you all right?” He came around the corner just as she spat something green into the sink.

  She jumped at the sound of his voice and dribbled some mouthwash down her chin in the process of spitting it out. “Dammit, this is the ladies’ room. And I can assure you, you’re not a lady,” she said, wiping her chin.

  “I thought you might be sick or something. I heard these sounds.” Sean stopped at her furious look.

  “You heard sounds?” She reached into her top, ripped the microphone out of the transmitter, tearing the delicate wires, and threw the mangled equipment at him.

  Sean yelped at the feedback and wrenched his earpiece out with one hand. The other hand snatched the ruined mike out of the air before it hit him in the face.

  Claire went back to the sink and started cleaning up the glass from the first bottle of mouthwash, which she’d broken because her hands were shaking. Sean watched her, seeing the roiling emotion beneath the surface calm she was desperately trying to maintain.

  “What’s with the mouthwash?” he final
ly asked.

  “Randy ate pickled onions out of his martinis all night. When he shoved his tongue down my throat, I got to experience them as well. They’re vile.”

  Sean felt his anger leap back at the image of Claire’s date assaulting her in that way. “Goddammit, Claire. You should have waited for us at the restaurant. Then this never would have happened.”

  “How do you figure that? It happened so fast I didn’t have time to duck, so I took care of it the old-fashioned way.”

  “What if he hadn’t passed out at the bottom of the stairs? What if you’d just pissed him off, and he tried to rape you?”

  “Then I would have handled him just like I’ve handled any other pushy guy I went out with before I met you,” Claire said in a harsh voice. “Just like I’ll handle them when you’re no longer in my life.”

  He ground his teeth to keep from protesting at her statement. He didn’t like thinking about her not being around every day. In a few short weeks Claire had made a place for herself in his life, and it wasn’t just the investigation.

  The silence in the bathroom grew heavy. Sean knew she was looking for a fight, and with his own adrenaline running high he’d be more than happy to give her one. But fighting wouldn’t solve what was going on between them. Worse, it would undermine his self-control. Then he’d be tempted to do something stupid, like holding her and giving her something to taste besides mouthwash and pickled onions.

  Shaking off the erotic images, Sean folded his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against the counter. “Until the killer is caught, I’m in your life and it’s my job to protect you. Get used to it.”

  “Or you’ll take me off the investigation?” she challenged.

  “Yes. Any questions?”

  “No,” she said through her teeth.

  “Then I’ll let you freshen up.”

  After Sean closed the door behind him, Claire looked back toward the mirror and reminded herself she’d asked for this. She felt trapped, frantic, and a little crazy, but she could handle it. She had to.

  “Claire?” It was Olivia’s voice. “Honey, are you in there?”

  “Hi, Livvie,” Claire said with a faint sigh, feeling guilty that all she really wanted was to be left alone.

  “Are you all right?” The door opened and Olivia walked in.

  “I’m fine. I was definitely more disgusted than hurt.”

  “I’m glad. Randy’s gone to the drunk tank, and the guys are waiting to take you home.”

  Claire thought about being alone with Aidan or Sean and knew she couldn’t do it. “Can I borrow your car? You can catch a ride home with the guys.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I just need to go for a drive to clear my head. I haven’t been alone in weeks. I have to—get out.”

  Olivia hesitated before giving her keys to Claire. “You be careful, hear? Keep the doors locked and take my cell phone.”

  Claire grabbed the phone and keys, then gave Olivia a quick hug. “Thanks.”

  Olivia watched while Claire gathered her things from the security guard and headed outside—the back way. Olivia had expected it. She went out and down the front steps in a rush to the detectives.

  “I gave Claire my car keys and cell phone.”

  “What?” Sean asked. “You let her go off alone?”

  “Of course, cher. Be careful when you follow her. She’s close to…let’s just say she needs some time out of the fishbowl.”

  Sean pulled his own keys out. “It’s my fault she’s mad. I’ll follow her in my truck. You take Olivia home,” he said to Aidan.

  Olivia ducked her head to hide her satisfied smile.

  Chapter 46

  At the edge of Washington, D.C.

  Saturday night

  “It’s called a turn signal, moron,” Claire said aloud to the driver who had cut her off and then immediately slowed for an upcoming turn. “You might want to use it before somebody hauls a gun out of the glove compartment and shoots you.”

  With a jerk of the wheel, she whipped out and around the other car. She’d been on the road for over an hour, weaving in and out of light traffic and enjoying the luxury of driving with no particular destination or deadline. Every time her thoughts strayed to the past few weeks, she shoved them right out of her mind. At the moment she was free, and nothing was going to spoil that.

  Claire rolled down the windows to enjoy the breeze. A thunderstorm was building in the distance, giving the night a hushed, tense quality that vibrated through the humid air. The smells and sounds brought back memories of summer nights in Louisiana with a clarity that was almost painful. Claire stared into the darkness and thought of her parents, dead for eight years. She needed them now more than ever, but took comfort in the fact that they were together. Wherever they were.

  Biting her lip against the bittersweet pain, she watched lightning arc inside a distant cloud and thought how wonderful it would be to stand in a drenching rain and let it wash the last few weeks away.

  The idea made her smile faintly and gave her a goal. Calculating the direction of the storm, she figured her best chance to hit the rain was to head toward Chesapeake Bay. She knew of several quiet coastal roads that led right to the water. She could park there and enjoy the storm in peace.

  Peace. The thought of it was like a drug.

  She reached down to tune the radio to an oldies station, one locally known for playing torch songs and blues. Humming along to Patsy Cline, she crossed the Chesapeake Bay bridge, turned off the main highway, and headed toward the water. After paralleling the coast for several miles, she chose another tiny road made of crushed shells and dirt. She was sure she wouldn’t encounter anyone on this little track, because it didn’t lead directly to the water. Instead, it ended at a wide turnaround separated from the high tide line by thick brush and scrub trees.

  No one else was there ahead of her. She let out a long sigh, shut off the engine, and dropped her head back against the headrest. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift. The sound of water and the calls of night creatures came in the open window.

  So did the sound of an approaching vehicle. Since she was at the end of a one-way road, the other car couldn’t miss seeing her.

  “Damn it!”

  Headlights flared, and the outline of a large pickup pulled in directly behind her. Too late it occurred to her that she was alone on a deserted road on the Chesapeake with a large vehicle blocking her only avenue of escape.

  Fumbling with the key, Claire turned the car on. She quickly raised the windows and hit the locks, while mentally calculating whether she would have enough space to get around the truck and not get stuck in the sand. Without taking her eyes off the rearview mirror, she felt around on the passenger seat for the cell phone.

  She squinted in the darkness, trying to determine how many people were in the truck. She could only see the outline of one tall person behind the wheel. The driver’s side door of the pickup opened, causing the dome light to come on and creating a silhouette of the seated man behind the wheel.

  Sean.

  “Son of a bitch!” Claire tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat and cut the engine. She shoved her door open and headed toward the truck. “What the hell are you doing here?” she yelled, marching unsteadily across the sand and shells in her high-heeled sandals.

  Sean stayed in the truck and watched her approach through the open driver’s window.

  “Why did you follow me?” Claire demanded. “You scared the shit out of me until I recognized you.”

  “And here I was thinking you were too stupid to realize you should be afraid,” Sean said, stripping out of his weapon harness. Lines of sweat showed everywhere the leather had been.

  She stopped short a few feet away from him. “Did you just call me stupid?”

  “I’ll say,” he muttered as he wrapped up the weapon and shoved it under the front seat. “What else do you call a woman who is under police protection but runs off all by hersel
f and drives late at night to a deserted rural area?”

  “I’d call her a woman who wanted to be alone! I still have rights, you know.”

  “You gave up those rights when you became the target of a serial killer. And when you agreed to take part in the investigation and play by my rules.”

  “Yeah? Well fuck your rules.”

  “Tired of playing detective?” Sean’s voice was level, almost understanding.

  “No, I’m tired of having my every move recorded and criticized. I’m tired of living my life on your microscope slide. You could understand that, if you had feelings. But you don’t, do you? You just sit there behind your badge and watch.”

  Sean’s jaw tightened. “Don’t push that button. You don’t want to pick a fight with me right now.”

  “Why not?” Claire asked, flinging her hands up in the air. “You’re here. I’m here. I’d love to see if you have any normal human emotions under that badge, or if you’ve succeeded in completely eliminating them in order to do your job.”

  “That’s it.”

  Claire took a step backward when Sean abruptly got out of the truck.

  “What are you doing?” She took another step back as Sean began to come toward her.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, but I’m more than happy to give you everything else you’re asking for.”

  She took another step backward, only to feel the ground give way beneath her heel. He grabbed her upper arms and finished the job of pulling her off balance. With a hungry sound he crushed her against his chest and brought their hips into full contact.

  Before Claire could absorb the dual sensations, Sean’s lips covered hers in a kiss that devoured. Tipping her head back, she let his tongue into her mouth. To her surprise, he began a gentle game of advance and retreat. She made a choked sound, then closed her eyes so she could drown herself in the taste of his desire.

  This was what she’d been waiting for, and she was going to enjoy every second of it.