“Let me put it this way. Some combinations should never mix. Lemon juice and milk. Ammonia and bleach. Me and him.”
Jonas’s eyes narrowed, though his stiff posture softened a fraction. “I don’t like that he knows you.”
“He doesn’t know me like that!” she protested.
“And he just happens to show up now,” Jonas stated, sighing and running a hand through his thick hair. “When you drop a bomb on me and expect me to be okay with knowing someone hurt you.”
“Only my sister and Al know the truth about the attack,” she whispered. “And now you. I’ve never told anyone else.”
“Why did you tell me?”
“Because I like you.”
“Damn it, Charlotte,” he said with a heartfelt sigh. “Right now is really not the time to talk about this.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Because I…I don’t like that he knows you,” he repeated.
She took a step into his hard body, resting her palms on his pecs and measuring them under her fingertips. “Like I said, he doesn’t know me, not like you do and I’d give my right little pinkie toe to have him scuttle back to Seattle. What I’ve told you, what I’ve shared with you, never once did I ever share that with him. Kiss me, Jonas.”
With a groan he leaned down and captured her lips. His tongue traced the seam, parting them and sliding in to dance with hers. Charlotte closed her eyes, savoring the feel of Jonas’s hard body next to hers. She slid her hands up to encircle his neck, pressing her breasts into his chest and brushing her nipples achingly back and forth. He broke the kiss with another groan.
“Stop, or I’ll bend you over and not care that there are twenty officers just outside the door that would hear you screaming with pleasure,” he said in a voice gone gruff with passion.
She rubbed her pelvis into his. “Is that a night stick in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”
“You minx,” he said, setting her firmly away from him. “Stop that or I’ll spank you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Promises, promises. We haven’t really explored our kinky sides yet.”
“You have a kinky side?”
“Everyone has a kinky side,” she confirmed. “Those who say they don’t are in denial.”
He grinned down at her. “I’ll bring home my handcuffs.”
“It’s a date, Detective Daire. And maybe you’ll live up to your name.”
She turned to walk out of the room, and he slapped her on the ass. Charlotte jumped and looked back at him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a wide, wicked smile. She sashayed out the door. As he followed her out and closed the door, Nash walked out of the interrogation room.
“Just the person I wanted to see,” Jonas told him. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“I can only imagine what you two were talking about in there,” Nash replied dryly.
“One piece of evidence found on my cousin, Zach Braddock-Masters, was his wallet,” Jonas told him. “It was sent to the Seattle Crime Lab, but you know how they are.”
“You probably won’t get a report for about a month,” Nash concluded.
“Right. So I was wondering if you would do me a personal favor and have Hawke Securities take a look at it?”
Nash narrowed his eyes. “Is this a way to get rid of me?”
Jonas sighed. “Well, I admit it’s killing two birds with one stone. But more importantly, Charlotte saw Zach holding something up from his wallet, so I’m thinking it might be an important step in bringing his killer to justice. So, as family to the victim, I would like your help.”
Nash studied him intently. “Of course. That’s what Hawke Securities was designed for, to help the private sector.”
“I owe you,” Jonas told him.
Nash glanced briefly at Charlotte. “You know it. Now, I’ll leave Charlotte in your capable hands. Make sure to call the crime lab and let them know I’ll be over to pick up the wallet to ensure the chain of custody.”
“Of course.”
Nash mock saluted them. “I’ve got a ferry to catch. Later, Charlotte.”
They watched him walk out of the room.
“Clever,” she said.
“I wasn’t lying. Two birds, one stone,” he told her. “By the way, want to accompany me to dinner at my aunt’s?”
“I’d love to.”
Chapter Twenty
“I’m so happy you came,” Alice Braddock-Masters gushed, smiling widely as she hugged Charlotte.
“I noticed the paparazzi haven’t deserted you,” she replied as she returned Alice’s embrace.
“Yes,” the older woman said with a sigh as she pulled back to greet her nephew. “Can’t you do anything about that, Jonas?”
“If I were to go down there and try to chase them off, I’d end up front page news,” he muttered. “Which is the last thing you need right now.”
“I suppose,” Mrs. Braddock-Masters replied. “Well, at least we can spend a nice evening together.”
As Charlotte followed after Mrs. Braddock-Masters and Jonas, she felt the coolness of the house settle into her bones, and she slowed her pace, falling behind as they walked to the dining room. The rambling mansion really was too large for one person, let alone an older woman. The cathedral ceilings supported wide, ornate crown molding that expertly fitted the acute angled design of the gable wall. Over time the sharp, clean feeling of the white paint had faded to a dull gray, lending to the air of age and neglect. The white marble floor had been a fashion statement at the height of its heyday but now gleamed like a polished tombstone. But underneath the meticulously well-preserved gothic home something wormed its way under Charlotte’s skin, and she shivered.
“Help.”
The whispered word startled her, causing her to jerk around looking for the person talking, trying to scare her, only to realize she stood alone in the corridor.
“Help her.”
This time the pleading order was delivered directly into her ear. Charlotte whirled again, expecting to see someone behind her, but no one. Nothing. She’d never had a ghost talk to her, and it quite unnerved her.
She closed her eyes and opened her senses, mentally calling forth the spirit who needed her. And she felt him, waiting for her to acknowledge him. His cold, otherworldly arms snaked around her, stepping into her body and mind in an effort to convey what he hadn’t been able to do before. Charlotte supposed it made sense, that he could use this entire house as his conduit since he felt such a connection to the history it represented to him.
Years of his memories unfolded instantly and rushed through her mind, his pride of being among such a legendary line, and the love that had once flourished behind its walls. It welled within her own soul, tightening her throat and causing tears to well.
“Charlotte?” Jonas asked.
She opened her eyes, feeling overwhelmed from everything that had been thrown at her. She had to wipe the wetness from her face.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, moving forward to cup her cheeks and check her over. “Did you hurt yourself?”
She shook her head. “No. Zach’s here.”
His eyes widened. “Where?”
“All around. He’s very grounded to this house, to the history of his family,” she told him. “He feels a deep connection to the Braddock-Masters name.”
An odd and remote look came over his face, as if he didn’t quite know what to believe or say. She hadn’t seen that look since after Zach had been found, and it made her heart ache.
“The name died with him,” Jonas said sadly, remotely.
“I know,” Charlotte said. “Come on. Your aunt is waiting for us.”
He took her hand and led her to the dining room where Alice Braddock-Masters waited. She gave Charlotte a searching look but didn’t say anything as they were served the appetizer.
Rarely had she been in a situation where formal dining etiquette had been required, but tonight she found herself sneaking peaks
at Jonas as he chose his utensils. Salad followed after the appetizer, then a delicious potato soup. The entrée was chicken breast with apricot stuffing and steamed baby carrots.
By the time the desert arrived, a rich chocolate pudding, Charlotte’s stomach began to roll. And by the time the indulgent smell hit her nostrils, she slapped a hand over her mouth and rushed out of the room, making a mad dash from the dining room into the kitchen where she leaned her head over the large porcelain sink and vomited.
The world narrowed down to the dry heaves making her stomach clench painfully as the acidic bile wormed its way up her throat. Over and over again she gagged, unable to stop the awful regurgitation and causing tears to burst from her eyes. Cool hands pulled her hair off her neck, holding it up as a cold, moist cloth pressed against her forehead.
When nothing else could come up and her stomach was empty, Jonas helped her away from the sink, where she collapsed in a miserable, shaking heap into his arms. She looked up into Jonas’s grim, pale face and saw a mixture of fear and concern.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to croak out. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was.”
“Shh,” he said comfortingly. “Don’t worry about that. How are you feeling?”
Over his shoulder Charlotte saw the staff hovering behind Alice Braddock-Masters’s shocked form, horrified fascination etched on every single face.
“Charlotte, how are you feeling?” Jonas asked again.
She sighed. “I hurt. But I think the heaving is over.”
Her head pounded painfully inside her skull, and she tried to shake it, or at least shrug, and each jarring movement just made her feel horrible. So she sat there for a long time, cradled in his arms as he soothingly wiped the tears from her face, and then, just as gradually as the sickness came upon her, so it receded, leaving her clearheaded once more.
Alice Braddock-Masters handed her a plate of crackers and a glass of ginger ale. “Here. This helped my sister with the pregnancy nausea.”
In an instant it all crashed down on her, so crystal clear. The finger telling her to hush when he first appeared to her. His secret relationship. The pack of cigarettes. The wealth of emotion for the Braddock-Masters name. The sickness.
Charlotte looked up Jonas and their eyes met.
“He wasn’t the last,” she whispered. “She’s pregnant. Zach’s girlfriend. Jonas, she’s carrying his child.”
Chapter Twenty-One
He didn’t say much to her as he bundled her up and left his aunt’s house, stating that Charlotte needed a lot of rest. He even didn’t say much as they drove back to his house. She could see he was lost inside his head as he went through every piece of evidence and compared it to the visions she’d provided, and she knew there wasn’t much to go on.
Once they were inside and he’d locked the door, he walked into the kitchen to pull out the whiskey from a cabinet. Then he opened the dishwasher and took out a clean glass and poured himself a hefty drink.
“Want some?” he asked.
“No thanks, my stomach just rolled in rebellion.”
He stood quietly in profile, sipping his drink. For once, Charlotte felt helpless. She laid her hand on his shoulder, in a gesture of comfort, but instead he sat his drink down, turned, and pulled her into him.
His kiss held a quiet desperation, a bitter taste of grief, and she knew that he needed to lose himself in something other than a memory. He needed her, needed her body, and she was happy to give it to him.
She expected him to swing her up into his arms and take her upstairs, but instead he pushed her against the wall as his lips trailed down her neck. His hands moved her shirt up, touching lightly over her skin as the fingertips traveled upward until they reached her breasts. She moaned and arched her back, thrusting more into his hands. He moved the bra up to expose her, his thumb flicking lightly over her nipples. When he tried to move his mouth to them, her clothing became cumbersome. Impatiently, he swept them over her head, throwing them carelessly on the floor somewhere behind them.
“You’re so beautiful,” he told her, just before his mouth fastened on her right nipple. His other hand started kneading her other breast, his fingers rolling that taut nipple around. Charlotte threw her head back, her body tensing at the unbelievable sensations radiating up from her groin. She was on fire, burning for him.
Jonas was a man possessed. One of his hands left her breast and moved to her legs, pushing them wide open to fit his body between them. His hand swiped over her overly sensitive pussy, causing her to jump in surprise from the friction of the material pushing back.
Impatiently, he unzipped her pants, pushing them down her legs before picking her naked body up to hold against his. Charlotte felt her juices start to run as one hand slid between them, a finger sliding deep within. In and out he finger-fucked her, finding the fleshy nub of her pleasure spot and rubbing that over and over as he bit and licked over her neck and mouth.
Her body splintered apart. Stars popped into her eyes. The world tilted on its axis. She was only vaguely aware of him moving his own clothing aside and the tear of a condom packet.
There, against the wall, he pushed his hard cock into her. He gave no mercy, no finesse, only the most fulfilling moment of her life as he finally took possession of her body.
“Uh!” she cried, the euphoria returning as he filled her wide.
He pulled back only slightly, making sure she was okay, until she flexed her inner vaginal muscles and squeezed him. His eyes rolled back, and he thrust again into her, going deeper.
Charlotte met his thrusts with sharp jabs of her pelvis, up and down. Sweat poured from their bodies. Their breathing turned harsh, saccadic. His thrusts became deeper, harder as he pushed his cock in and out. Charlotte moaned as his onslaught propelled her up and down in a blur, causing his hands to hold onto her hips to hold her stead.
“Oh god, Jonas!” she garbled through her teeth, the sing of her orgasm sweeping through her. “Yes, yes!”
She fell first. She mewled as the dam burst and her cream ran. Her inner muscles once again flexed, milking the hard cock rooted deep inside her. Jonas let out his own harsh groan as he climaxed with her.
And then his knees wobbled, and he had to let go of her. He pulled out of her and reached down to take care of the condom, his breathing harsh as he tossed it in the trash. She leaned against the door, her body shaking in the sweet aftermath. With a deep breath, he swept her up in his arms and took her upstairs.
* * * *
They lay facing each other, staring into one another’s eyes. Jonas couldn’t remember an entire time in his life when he’d just been content to stare into a woman’s eyes after sex. Hell. He was afraid of what that meant.
She was unlike anyone he’d ever known in his very ordinary, structured life. Even though he was a homicide detective, there weren’t that many murders in Alecia Falls, which was why the only other person to handle finding Zach’s killer had been his partner, the partner he couldn’t work with anymore.
The dinner tonight ran through his mind. He felt like he was close to putting all the pieces together but missing that one very large, very important piece.
“How do you know?” he finally asked. “How do you know this woman is pregnant?”
“The visions were leading me to understand, but puking my guts up pushed it over the edge,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “By the way, how long does it take a woman to know she’s pregnant?”
He blinked. “Why are you asking me as if I’d know?”
“Two months?” she persisted, as if he hadn’t said a word. “I know they have tests that tell you five days after conception, but what if you weren’t trying to conceive?”
“I can honestly say I’ve never thought of pregnancy tests,” he assured.
“Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why haven’t you ever thought about pregnancy tests? I doubt you’ve lived a chaste life.”
He gaped at her for a lo
ng moment. Was she serious? “I was always careful,” he stated firmly. He didn’t need to tell her there hadn’t been that many women and none that ever gone to head, not like how she drove him crazy.
“Oh, well, that’s good. Now what I was saying? Oh, yeah. So a woman can miss one period and not realize it, or chalk it up to stress. But missing two in a row would definitely cause some panic, I think. And Zach’s been gone for a month and a half. So we’re looking for what?” she asked, giving him a perplexed look. “A four-month pregnant woman? Give or take a month. Wait, don’t pregnancies go by weeks?”
“Again, why are you asking me?”
She glared at him. “You don’t know shoes and you don’t know babies so I ask you, what can you bring to a relationship?”
“Focus, Charlotte,” he replied sharply.
She took a deep breath. “Right. Sorry. Low blood sugar since I technically ate nothing.”
“Getting back on track,” he said, glossing over her statement. “So Zach’s having an affair.”
“Right.”
“Girl finds out she’s pregnant.”
“Right.”
“Girl…what? Goes to leave her husband and husband kills Zach out of jealousy and rage, or does girl freak out when she finds out she’s pregnant and kills Zach because she’s afraid of what husband will do?”
“Definitely not the second theory. Zach was too insistent with me to protect her and never once did he impress upon me that she was his killer.”
“She could have been using him.”
“That’s not the vibe I got. I honestly don’t think the girl would have hurt Zach. Besides, he’s like what…a hundred and eighty pounds? And from what I’ve been able to piece together, this mystery girl and I are about the same size. So unless she’s Supergirl, I don’t think so. Is there any way to track the shoes?”
“The shoes?”
“From the visions. Can we get a subpoena or something to find out who bought those shoes?”
“I actually did research on those Louboutin’s you saw.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. First that you remembered the name, and second that we’re thinking on the same wave length.”
Otherworldly [McKnight, Perth & Daire 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 12
