Tension slipped away, replaced with a simmering erotic hunger. She didn’t have the strength to fight it. How could she keep denying herself what her heart and her body craved more than anything?
Jason.
He leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck. Heat radiated from the spot and spread over her skin. A quiver of longing immediately followed.
Jason sat up and started massaging again, his hands moving lower on her back to the waistband of her shorts. Her breath grew ragged as his thumbs sneaked under the elastic, only for an instant. Moisture slicked her entrance. Her nipples ached with need. She squirmed and Jason stopped rubbing.
“Everything okay?”
His voice wrapped around her senses. Lust burned inside her and her pussy throbbed, begging for his touch. He slid his hands along her sides, just missing the swell of her breasts. Was he purposely driving her wild with his teasing touch?
He threaded his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp. Did he know how much she loved that? Then his lips brushed across her shoulder, the back of her neck.
I can’t take much more of this.
She was so accustomed to tamping down her feelings that a pleasured sigh lingered in her throat. But when Jason’s erotic assault continued, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.
He climbed off her and rolled her on to her back. She made no attempt to shield her naked breasts. His gaze fell from her eyes to her chest. Her taut points begged to be touched, to be licked and suckled. She hooked her fingers behind his neck and urged him closer.
“Are you sure?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but his question spoke volumes. Most men wouldn’t ask.
“Positive.” She pulled him near enough to kiss. His scent nearly made her swoon. Brushing her lips over his, she let her eyelids slip lazily shut. He glided his tongue over her lips, parted them and slipped inside her mouth.
Passion quickened her blood. She deepened the kiss, explored ever corner of his mouth. But she wanted his mouth elsewhere so she broke away and pushed his shoulders down.
Not that he needed any convincing. With a big, strong hand, he grasped her breast, kneaded her flesh. Then he gave the other breast a long, slow swipe of his tongue. She lifted her chest toward him, hoping he’d never stop.
He licked wide circles around her areola, coming closer to her erect bud with each pass. Her temperature spiked. Finally, he teased her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Then he raked his teeth over the sensitive point. Pleasure ignited at the spot then spiraled through her whole body.
His hard-on pressed against her leg and she wriggled at the prospect of holding his cock, of feeling it move inside her. She wanted it so badly her hands shook. Running her fingers up and down his back, she marveled at the feel of his muscles beneath his velvet skin.
“Make love to me, Jason.”
He stilled, met her stare. The smoky desire she found in his eyes snatched her breath away.
“Please.” She was so choked up with emotion and longing, she barely managed to get the word out.
He reached over her toward the night table and dug in the drawer. The amber light from the bathroom reflected on the foil packet as he tore it open. He had his shorts off in seconds. She bit her lip as she watched him sheathe himself.
His cock was big and thick and her mouth watered when she thought about what it would feel like. She shimmied out of her shorts and panties. Usually, she enjoyed sex gentle and slow, but tonight passion trumped tenderness. There’d be plenty of time for leisurely lovemaking later.
Jason climbed over her and his cock slid along her mound. She rocked her hips against him. If he didn’t fuck her right this second she’d incinerate on the spot. She spread her thighs and he moved between her legs.
She closed her hand around his shaft and pushed it against her entrance. When he slipped inside her, she bit back a gasp.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he drove deeper. “Oh yes, Kelsey.”
Each stroke felt better than the last. She wanted it hard and fast and rough. And he didn’t disappoint. She sank her fingers into his back and arched against his driving thrusts. His hips pistoned as he stroked deeper, harder. Over and over and over.
Her climax was close, so close. She whimpered with helpless need. Jason’s brow scrunched in concentration and the veins in his neck protruded.
She tumbled over the edge into bliss. A current of ecstasy lifted her, pulsed through her. She writhed with pleasure as her orgasm crested.
Jason’s expression turned feral and he pounded into her with a savage ferocity. She curled her fingernails into his skin as he rekindled her climax. New ripples of delight rolled through her.
Jason stilled on top of her, panting and soaked with their sweat. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. She took his head in her hands and held him to her breast, feeling the thunder of his heartbeat on her chest.
Drained and completely satisfied, she closed her eyes and swam in a sea of unending bliss.
* * * * *
Ribbons of sunshine coaxed Kelsey’s eyes open. She blinked, tried to remember where she was. Smoothing her hand along the soft brown comforter, she remembered. Jason’s place. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms over her head. Touching the bruise on her arm, she was relieved she wasn’t particularly sore from the accident.
Sitting up, she slipped on her glasses and listened. Metal clanged in the distance. She inhaled wonderful, enticing smells—coffee, bacon and warm bread. After a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, she ventured into the hallway and followed her nose to the kitchen. Silent in the doorway, she watched him at the stove. In a snug T-shirt, his muscled back and shoulders were even more impressive. His shorts gave her a glimpse of his rock-solid legs. She’d never tire of looking at them. A wave of desire swept through her, stealing her breath away.
As if sensing her presence, Jason spun around and greeted her with a warm smile. “Hey.”
“Hi.” The sparkle in his eyes invited her closer, but she didn’t dare. She folded her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “So you really do cook, huh?”
He pointed to the stove. “Swiss cheese omelets, homemade buttermilk biscuits and bacon.”
“I’ll take a pass on the bacon, but everything else sounds great.” She fixed her gaze on the coffeemaker. “May I?”
“Mugs are in the cabinet.” He gestured over the sink then returned to the stove and served up the food as Kelsey poured coffee.
“What’s the plan?” She climbed onto a stool at the breakfast bar as he set plates out.
Elvis came into the kitchen and sat at her feet, staring longingly toward the food.
“I have an errand to run. We’ll leave for the range as soon as I come back.” He checked his watch. “After that you’ll have a crash course in self-defense.”
She took a bite of her omelet and shut her eyes, savoring the cheesy taste.
“What do you think?”
I think I could get used to this. Meeting his gaze, she smiled. “Very impressive. Thank you for all this.”
He shrugged off her comment. “No biggie. I had to make breakfast for myself anyway. What’s one more?”
Wrapping her hands around the mug, she shook her head. “I’m not only referring to this sumptuous meal. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“If it wasn’t for me, you’d never be in this situation.” His voice was hoarse, full of guilt.
Mouth full of food, she shook her head. After she swallowed, she touched his hand. “You didn’t ask for this, Jason. How could you know what those crates of books would bring?” Spying a computer at a built-in desk in the corner, she got an idea. High time she did some research on his uncle. “Do you mind if I use your computer while you’re running your errand?”
“Yeah, sure.” His brow furrowed as he chased a clump of egg across the plate with his fork. “It’s not exactly an errand.”
Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“Actually, I hav
e a lead.”
She sucked in an excited breath. “Really? What is it?”
He shook his head. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. You’re getting your hopes up, but it might be nothing.”
Making her expression as neutral as possible, she swallowed hard. “There. Not excited. Now, spill it.”
“It’s a woman who works for me, she fits part of the profile, but…”
“What?”
“I don’t picture Lilith as a corrections officer.” He set his fork down and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know.” He stood, carried his plate to the sink.
“But it might be her. And if it is, she could try to hurt you.” The notion of something bad happening to him ripped through her.
Where did that come from? How had he grown so important to her so quickly?
He waved away her worry, but the crease of his brow remained.
Stealing a sideways glance at him, she threaded her fingers together on her lap. “So what happens when she’s caught? When they are, I mean.”
He lifted his coffee. “You’re safe. You can go back home and know there’s no crazy lady gunning for you. Your friend’s killer will be behind bars and there’ll be no jail guard trying to run your life.” He threw her one of his adorable winks.
But his pronouncement knotted her gut. When the drama was all over, she realized she didn’t want him out of her life and that frightened the heck out of her. Maybe she could handle his bossiness since he wasn’t mean-spirited like her father and her ex. At least Jason had an excuse to act the way he did. His job required him to tightly control his environment and the people around him.
After they finished eating Kelsey loaded the dishwasher while Jason got ready to leave. “Good luck.”
He slipped a gun into his pants. “My .45 is all the luck I need, darlin’.” He showed her how to work the alarm system before he went. “Make sure you turn it on the moment I leave.” He closed the distance between them then pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“I promise.” As if she’d take a chance after last night. She smoothed down his shirt. “Please, be careful.”
Watching him drive away, she said a little prayer that he’d make it back to her safe and sound.
* * * * *
Jason climbed out of his truck in front of Petra Sykes’ duplex on Oleander Street. A late model SUV sat in the driveway with a bright green parking decal he recognized as one the county issued to its employees. Glancing around the property, he immediately noticed the difference between the Sykes’ side and the other unit. The neighbor’s place had an overturned rusty metal table and few pieces of trash scattered in the yard. The grass hadn’t seen a lawnmower in months. Weeds crawled up their side of the building and the paint around the windows was cracked and peeling in spots.
The Sykes side seemed well cared for—almost neurotically so by comparison. A perfectly manicured lawn surrounded a well-tended flowerbed.
If he were a betting man, he’d lay odds that the Sykes didn’t get along with their slovenly next-door neighbors. He stepped onto the porch and a black cat came out of nowhere and nearly tripped him as it skirted around his feet. Bending to pet the animal, he caught a faint whiff of stale cigarette smoke. “If only you could speak, kitty.”
The feline meowed then scampered off and disappeared in the tall weeds edging the building.
He rang the doorbell and waited. When no one answered, he took a few steps across the porch and thought about phoning Kelsey to make sure everything was okay. Hand on his cell, he spun around when the door opened.
“Yeah?” The tall, dark-haired man on the other side of the screen door narrowed his gaze.
Jason stood taller. “I’m looking for Petra Sykes.”
The man, probably in his late thirties, looked him over, but made no move to let him inside. “Who are you?” He glanced toward Jason’s truck.
“Sergeant Jones, Dade County Jail.” He reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet. He flipped it open to show his badge. “Petra works for me.”
The man gave his badge a cursory nod. “She ain’t here.”
Damn it. He’d wanted to get this over with. But maybe he could glean some information from the husband since he was here. “You’re her husband, right? Mind if I ask you a few questions?” He grasped the doorknob and waited.
Eying him, the man shrugged, took a step away from the screen. “I got a minute. Not much more.”
“Thanks.” He pulled open the door and entered the house, stopping just inside the threshold. The place smelled of cleaning products, and much like the exterior, looked neat and orderly, nothing out of place. Offering his hand, he tried for a smile, but feared he wasn’t very convincing. “Jason Jones.”
Ignoring Jason’s gesture, the man crossed his arms over his chest. “Harlan Sykes. Clock’s ticking. What do you want to know?”
What a charmer. No problem. He could play it that way. “Do you know where Petra was last night between midnight and one a.m.?”
Sykes looked him straight in the eyes. “Right here, watching TV.” The man’s gaze was direct and he didn’t blink as most people did when they lied.
Maybe he’d been wrong about Petra Sykes. Either her husband was a practiced liar or the guy was being straight with him. “Does your wife collect books?”
The man’s serious expression instantly changed to amusement. “Petra? Books? You got to be kidding.”
Jason swept his gaze around the room. A computer with twin monitors and half a dozen unidentifiable gizmos attached sat in a corner. A few motel-quality framed prints hung on the walls and the furniture was basic department store issue. “Any idea when Petra will be back?”
He looked at his watch and shrugged. “Said she had errands.”
More than a little disappointed, Jason nodded. “Thanks for your time.” Turning to leave, he noticed a wedding photo hanging next to the door. He stopped to study it. “Nice picture.” Neither the bride nor groom seemed particularly happy. Her plain white dress presented a startling contrast to her long, straight hair, blacker than anything found in nature. She looked vaguely familiar from work, but she worn her hair in a severe bun there.
Facing Sykes, he tried another smile, but the man’s expression remained stony. He took out his wallet and removed a business card. “Please have her give me a call. It’s important.” When Harlan didn’t take the card, he set it on a table beside the door. “Been a pleasure speaking with you, Mr. Sykes.”
He climbed into his truck a minute later and started the engine as he distilled the brief conversation he’d had with Sykes. The man hadn’t exhibited a shred of warmth when he spoke of his wife. Ellis Washington had said he suspected Petra Sykes was being abused by her husband, but just by his short encounter with her husband, Jason couldn’t be sure.
On a whim, he decided to stop by the jail to find more information on Officer Sykes. He found her supervisor, Corporal Murphy in the staff lunchroom. Thankfully, the man was alone, so they could speak candidly.
“Sykes is a little on the strange side. I think she has some issues,” Murphy told him. “And it shows in how she approaches the job.”
“What makes you say that?” Strange would certainly be in his suspect’s profile.
He shrugged. “I had to counsel her after she handled an inmate too roughly. Gave the guy a hard shove for no reason, right in front of me. And I’ve observed her doing it on other occasions. She’s the last person I’ll call for a potential use of force. Knows her takedown techniques, but she doesn’t always follow protocol. Puts herself and other officers in precarious situations.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’ll give you an example,” he said. “She sent out a distress call over the radio a few weeks ago while she was moving a Max-One inmate to a medical observation cell. She and Officer Hampton decided that since the guy was sick and appeared weak, they didn’t need a corporal to accompany them, which any rookie knows is required. Wh
en the inmate mouths off to her, she elbows him in the stomach. Acts like a bully. The inmate shoved the other officer against the wall, pinned him there and nearly broke the guy’s ribs. Guess the inmate didn’t want to hurt a woman even though she was the one who’d pissed him off.”
“I heard about it at the managers meeting.” Although Sykes’ name hadn’t rung a bell at the time. “I agreed with your recommendation of a three-day suspension and a week of retraining.” He took a notebook from his breast pocket and jotted down the corporal’s comments.
“I also suspect her and the hubby play rough.”
That corroborated Ellis’ assessment. “Why?”
“I’ve noticed a couple bruises on her arms, overheard her end of a phone conversation with him. Sounded like he might be a control freak.”
“Thanks, Corporal. You’ve been a big help.” Maybe he’d discounted Petra Sykes prematurely.
Chapter Eight
What was she doing here? He parked his car halfway down the street and glanced around the area. Several apartment buildings stood on either side of the busy road. His wife sat in the driver’s seat of her Cadillac, smoking a cigarette. A slim, dark-haired man climbed into the passenger seat. He wished they were facing him so he could get a good look at the bastard’s face.
Zooming in with his camera, he snapped a picture. He managed to take a perfect shot of the two of them from behind, kissing. He remembered Jones as a taller man, but he might be slouched in the seat. Unless he’d been wrong about Jones.
No. Why else would his wife have his number hidden? Had to be Jones. Rage bubbled inside him as he pulled out after them. He stayed several cars back, but never lost sight of them as they merged on to the highway headed north.
After nearly fifteen minutes, the Caddy exited the interstate then drove several miles to an unfamiliar neighborhood. He hung back as they turned on to a dead-end street, watched as his wife stepped out of the car alone and went into a small white house.
While she was inside, he contemplated approaching her passenger. No, why tip Jones off. The element of surprise would be crucial. He wanted to catch the two of them together somewhere where he could give them exactly what they had coming.
Tropic of Trouble Page 11
