Not a woman with lots of fancy dresses hanging in her closet, she'd worn a red dress that night. His eyes had roamed over her body more times than she could count. His interest hadn’t gone unnoticed. For their second date, she needed to top that red dress.
Shopping was a necessary evil. When it involved looking for dresses, her gut twisted into knots. Not the good kind either. This was more of the unsettled, wanting to puke variety. Women who found entertainment in clothes shopping confused her. She went into a store knowing what she needed, made a beeline to collect her items, paid, and then left. Scouring racks and racks to find that perfect dress? Ugh! What she wouldn’t give for a girlfriend to help make this decision. Her best friend George would be of no help.
She had a little black dress at home, but couldn’t use it. That had been the dress Derek had seen her in that first night. Next to his bimbo-date in her sprayed on micro-mini, Sally had probably looked prim and proper, maybe even dowdy.
Insecurities? They bubbled to the surface too easily. All those recriminations floating in her head about how she wasn’t tall enough, or slim enough, or beautiful enough, could go on for days.
But damn, if she hadn’t found the perfect dress. Form fitting without being snug, the knit fabric accentuated what few curves she had. The hem was shorter than she liked, coming to rest mid-thigh. That blonde’s dress had barely covered her ass. No way would Sally ever go that short. How was she supposed to get in and out of her car, or even sit in a chair without flaunting to the world what was underneath?
Dear Lord! Now she'd need to buy underwear. No. Not underwear. Not even panties. She hated that word—panties! A man like Derek would expect lingerie. And now, her thoughts turned to what it meant that she was even contemplating buying lingerie. And for a second date? Had she gone mad?
Was she really ready to take that next step? She wasn’t inexperienced. Hell, she’d been happily married for five years. Would Derek think her unsophisticated when it came to sex?
Passion leaked from his pores, saturating the very air with sin and seduction. A single gaze from him heated the room. He’d probably had countless lovers, experienced women who weren’t afraid of their shadow. She wanted to unlock the possibilities hidden within her.
With her chosen purchase draped over her arm, she headed to the lingerie department where a million choices brought her up short. Did she want to be sweet and delicate? Spicy with a little naughty? Sinfully sexy? Just pretty? Ha, who was she kidding? What a girl like her needed was something basic. Would Derek expect one of those thongs? Hmm, she didn’t know if she could spend an entire evening with floss between her cheeks.
The corners of her mouth quirked up when a black lace and red satin set caught her eye. Black ribbon weaved through the elastic band of the panties, and the peekaboo black lace revealed crimson satin underneath. It was the perfect mixture of flirty, sexy and sweet.
With her shopping ordeal completed, she headed home. She laid her purchases out, ready for a quick change tomorrow. She’d be tight on time, when she got home from work. Then, she slipped into bed and dreamt of Derek’s passionate kisses.
Chapter 3
Liquid Courage
The next day passed quickly. Sally attacked her examination of the junkie determined to collect as much evidence as possible to help Mac and Reid decipher the mystery of the woman’s death.
Next on her list? Checking for semen and other bodily fluids. To do that, she needed her UV lamp. Except the damn thing didn’t turn on. No surprise the batteries were dead. Keeping the equipment functioning fell on her assistant, Bruce.
“Bruce!”
He didn’t answer her call and had probably taken another early lunch. It took some digging, but she found replacement batteries. Now to look at the victim’s skin.
Several tattoos decorated the brunette’s body. Those on her arms and legs had been destroyed by the track marks that marred her skin. A thorn encrusted vine stretched from her left shoulder, twined across her breasts, and wrapped down and around her right hip. The Y-incision from Sally’s initial exam had split the girl’s chest open, ruining the impeccable artistry. The detail and shading were nearly three-dimensional in effect. Each thorn pressed into the skin and pierced the flesh. The artist had even drawn in drops of blood. A single wilted rose desperately clung to the tip of a woody stem, and resting at the juncture of vine, a band of gold encircled the fragile stem. Breathtaking.
She guided the UV lamp across the skin.
Faint wording inscribed into the woody stem glowed under the light.
Sally grabbed a magnifying glass and peered at the words. Ring around the Rosie. It was pretty, but odd.
“Doc,” Bruce’s cry from the hallway broke her concentration. He knew she hated interruptions. It was too hard to get back into the zone.
Schooling her tone to civility, she answered. “What’s up?” Straightening, she pressed a hand to her back, easing the tight muscles.
Bruce barreled into the examination room, the double doors whooshed open. “I’m sorry,” he said, out of breath, “but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Who wouldn’t listen?” Turning, her heart stopped. A wall of towering muscle barreled through the doors, pushing Bruce out of the way. The incredibly large and intimidating man angled straight toward her, the set of his jaw determined and his expression lethal.
His gaze cut to the woman on the table and he closed the distance in three easy strides.
Standing between him and the body, Sally had nowhere to run. She gripped the edge of the aluminum table and prayed the behemoth barreling down on her was more of a saint than a sinner. Because with his black leather vest, jeans, and shit-kicker boots, the man either belonged to a motorcycle club or was stupid enough to pretend he did. From the intensity of his stare and his well-muscled frame, she bet the first was true.
He reeked of fuel and exhaust. The stench of leather and sweat was nearly overpowering, but not unpleasant. His dirty blond hair was plastered against his scalp, probably from being shoved inside a helmet.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, “but you’re not allowed in here.”
“Name’s Blaze,” he said. He reached for the dead woman’s hand. “Ah, Ally.”
The ferocity of his stare had Sally inching to the side, desperate to put distance between herself and the object of this man’s attention.
“You know her?” she asked.
The woman was a Jane Doe. Dental molds had been sent out, but her identity remained a mystery. She should force him to leave, as if she could make a wall of muscle move, but if he could identify the body, it would save a lot of work.
“What happened?” His words cut through the air, demanding a response.
It was all she could do to remember she held the power here. The man’s natural dominance oozed through his pores and infested the stale air of her exam room. She managed to step to the side, placing distance between her and the giant.
“Can you identify her? Are you family?”
“I’m the only family she’s had in a long time,” he said with a sigh. “Her name’s Ally.”
She gestured to Bruce to take notes.
“Ally?” she repeated. “Does she have a last name?”
“Ally Winters.” His brows pinched, and he shook his head.
“Do you know her next of kin?” Making a positive identification would help the investigation.
Unhelpful as always, Bruce stood by the doors, mouth agape, looking like an idiot, and not taking the necessary notes. This was an opportunity not only to find out who their victim was, but to notify her family.
“Used to be my girl, then the drugs…” He swiped at his jaw, sucking in a breath. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off Ally’s forehead. “Did she OD?” He covered his mouth and pulled at his chin. “Ally…what a fucking waste.”
She couldn’t give him details. His presence wasn’t authorized and could mess with the collection of evidence. For all Sally knew, he’d been t
he one to kill the girl.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you not to touch the body—um, please don’t touch Ally.”
His eyes narrowed, turning the intensity of his gaze on her. “Why is a medical examiner interested in a junkie?”
“I can’t go into the details, but if you can help us ID her, my assistant will collect the necessary information.”
Mac and Reid would need whatever this man knew to piece together who might have wanted the woman dead.
She stiffened her spine and used her firmest tone. “I have to ask you to leave.”
He ran a finger down the woman’s arm, his brows pinching. “Something happened. I see it in your eyes.”
Okay, the man was smart.
“I can’t discuss this.” She crossed her arms and sucked in a breath. “You need to leave.”
“Ally was just a chick who got lost in the drugs. Can’t think of a single person who’d want to hurt her.”
She needed to give this guy’s name to Reid. Reid would know what to ask, and he wouldn’t let this biker intimidate him.
Daring to touch the man who called himself Blaze, she applied gentle pressure to his upper arm. Solid as a rock. Damn, the man was cut. No way could she force him to leave, but she hoped some weird chivalrous code would make him listen to a woman.
“My assistant,” she said, “will have you fill out a contact form. We may have more questions for you later.”
Blaze shook his head. “Such a fucking waste.” But he turned with her gentle urging and took a step toward the door.
The sharp talons decorating the back of the man’s leather vest sent a shiver down her spine. Definitely part of a motorcycle club. If the victim had associations with a biker gang, then this could be related to something the gang was associated with. Poor girl might have been unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire of a turf war.
Bruce paled a little, but he held open the door and followed the man out.
With a solid thump, the double doors swung shut, leaving her blissfully alone. She pulled out her phone and texted Reid.
With that interruption concluded, she returned to her exam. Where had she left off? Oh, that weird nursery rhyme tattooed in ultraviolet ink. Invisible to the naked eye, she’d heard of the trend with invisible tattoos, but this was her first.
Before she knew it, it was time to leave. The performance didn’t begin until seven, but she wanted to be on the road by five—just in case another accident delayed her like the last time she’d met Derek at the ballet.
Memories of that first date flitted in her head. He’d kissed her. A soul-shattering, toe-curling, lose-her-mind kind of kiss. The steel band of grief encircling her heart had popped free, telling her it was time. She’d said goodbye to Thomas, and had taken the first deep breath in years.
Now, she had dressed herself to the nines for Derek. Wearing her lacy lingerie beneath the little black dress, she faced the floor length mirror and fought with her nerves. Tight across her chest, the bodice revealed more cleavage than she was comfortable showing, but that was okay. Tonight was for taking risks.
Not that she would be reckless. She would allow herself to lose some of her inhibitions, keep an open mind, and let Derek set the pace. A wild ferocity simmered in his eyes, a predator on the prowl, he seemed to be a man who took charge. She hadn’t had that with Thomas, quite the opposite actually. Deep inside, Derek’s power called out to her. She wanted to explore whatever that might be.
She gathered her long hair into a French twist and examined the effect. Pulling her hair up accentuated the harsh angles of her face. Not good. She needed to be soft, not hard, for Derek. She dropped her hair to let it frame her face. There, hard angles softened.
She looked good. Not glamorous like that blonde. She would never be considered hot, but she liked what she saw.
Time to go.
With her purse and keys in hand, she headed out the door. Although rush hour, she was headed into the city, rather than out. Traffic came to a virtual standstill headed out of the Bay area, but she zoomed along heading into San Fran, pushing eighty, sometimes ninety on the freeways, slowing only for the tolls on the bridges. At the theater, a ticket at will-call waited, and a glance at her watch had her smiling.
Half an hour to spare. This time, she didn’t need the help of the ushers to find her way. But before she headed to Derek’s box, Sally found the bar where she intended to down one glass of liquid courage before facing Derek’s unknown friends.
Chapter 4
Giselle
Overhead, the lobby lights flickered. The doors to the theater swung open and welcomed an anxious crowd to their seats. Sally downed the last sip of her second glass of wine, and while her legs were steady, her stomach rioted with nerves.
It had been weeks since she'd seen Derek. Whether effects from the wine or nerves, the lightness in her stomach couldn’t be denied.
A wave of sound pulsed all around her. Exuberant voices, the excited squeals of children, the lilting notes of women’s laughter, and the deeper rumblings of men, all of it combined and tumbled toward her, an avalanche of sound, burying her in excitement. The crowd’s energy fed her anticipation, and while she was nervous to see Derek, being at the ballet brought back good memories; time spent with her mother before the diagnosis, the surgeries, chemo and radiation, and hospice at the end. Between her mother’s breast cancer and the lymphoma that took Thomas, Sally had had enough with death.
Odd that she spent her days with the dead. But their quiet calmed her racing thoughts.
Eager theater patrons surged around her, jostling her out of her thoughts. She teetered on three-inch heels which for some reason she’d thought would be a good idea. She was regretting that choice now. Maybe it was the wine?
She ducked and dodged through the press of people, headed to the elevators. Everyone was eager to claim their seats for the performance. After several excuse me’s and pardon me’s, she reached the elevator and pressed the call bell. Her finger trembled not with fear as it had last week, but with an eagerness to reunite with Derek.
Was he up there right now, wondering where she was? Did he think she would be late again?
She tapped her foot, waiting, fingers playing at the seam of her little black dress. She chewed on her lower lip until she realized it was messing up her lipstick. Now, she'd have to reapply.
Once the last person was off the elevator, she dodged inside and stabbed at the elevator controls, pressing the number two button over and over. Right before the doors closed, a blonde draped in a spectacular red gown stepped inside. With her hair drawn up into an elegant French twist, the woman was stunning, but Sally couldn’t stop staring at the five large gems wrapped around the woman’s neck. They sparkled in the light, the reflections bouncing from mirror to mirror inside the paneled elevator car.
The woman caught her staring and fluttered her fingers over the gems. She shifted a step or two back, until her backside met the back wall.
“I’m sorry,” Sally said, “but those rubies are incredible.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, keeping her face turned away and eyes cast down. “They’re scarlet emeralds.”
“Emeralds?” She looked again, seeking a glimpse of the gems beneath the nervous woman’s fluttering fingers. The necklace had an antiquated look. Each gem had been set inside a bezel embellished with intricate filigree. Too fine to make out details, large links embellished with fine engraving, joined the beveled settings. The silvery metal had a patina to it, a dull finish, bearing the weight of what had to be scores of years. Either the necklace was an elaborate piece of costume jewelry, or she was looking at a true heritage antique.
“I didn’t know emeralds came in that color.”
“They’re not common.”
And each gem was bigger than her thumb. If they were real, Sally was easily staring at millions wrapped around the woman’s neck. Where was her bodyguard? Or a date, for that matter? Surely it wasn’t sa
fe to wander alone with such expensive gems. Interestingly, the woman’s fingers were bare of rings. Not married.
“Well, it’s stunning,” she said.
“Thank you,” the blonde’s smile barely tilted the corners of her lips. “Scarlet emeralds are rare.”
“I’ll have to look them up.”
Another soft smile.
The elevator came to a stop, ending their conversation.
The nervous woman rubbed at the gems, then lowered her hand. When the doors opened she practically leapt out without another word.
“Enjoy the performance,” Sally called out.
But the woman said nothing, and disappeared around the corner.
Sally turned left, and headed to Derek’s exclusive box seat, toward stage front and center. The doors to the box stood ajar, and she rushed inside.
Empty.
Where was he? The warning bell had already rung.
The light streaming in from the hallway dimmed, and a man’s chuckle drifted to her ears where it did strange things to her insides. Yummy things.
She spun around. “Derek!”
He spread his arms out, welcoming her into his embrace, and his expression was one of wonderment. “My God, you’re stunning.”
Heat filled her cheeks. She was hoping for a good but stunning would do. Then she smiled, shifting her eyes down and to the left. She couldn’t look at him and speak at the same time. “You look pretty amazing too.” But she did peek, lifting her gaze up to take him in.
Decked out in a tuxedo, the immaculate suit barely contained his muscular frame. Crisp and pressed, the bow tie wrapped snuggly around his neck. He carried himself with ease, as if he’d been born in the elegant attire. Incredibly brilliant blue eyes flashed with mischief.
Learning to Breathe: Part One - The Collective - Season 1, Episode 3 Page 2
