Whisper of Warning

by Laura Griffin

  “No missing person’s report that you could find?” she asked.

  “Nothing that’s a match,” Hodges said.

  Yet another reason why Nathan knew they were looking for the child’s mom and whatever dirtbag guy she happened to be living with. It might be the biological father, but Nathan suspected they’d find it was the stepdad or the boyfriend, someone who didn’t care much for another man’s kid hanging around.

  “The mother won’t come forward,” Fiona said with certainty. “She’s too weak. What we need is a concerned relative who hasn’t seen this child in a while.”

  Nathan stared at the X-ray. He loathed any homicide involving a child, but this one in particular got to him. Who were these women who sat by and let their kids get knocked around? They were worse than their men. People said maternal instincts came naturally, but Nathan had seen way too many counterexamples over the years.

  “I’ll get you your drawing; you get it on the news.” Fiona turned to him with somber eyes. “Our best hope is that this child’s got a grandmother somewhere.”

  Someone was in Will’s apartment.

  He wasn’t sure what, exactly, tipped him off, but he knew someone was there. He stood outside the door for a full minute, listening, before sliding his key into the lock. His right hand curled around the grip of his Glock, and his left slowly turned the key. Soundlessly, he pushed open the door.

  The apartment was dark, just as he’d left it. The only light shone down from the microwave above the stove. It was quiet. He stepped over the threshold and paused in the foyer.

  He smelled Chinese food.

  Something moved to his right. He pulled his gun and whirled—

  “Omigod, you scared me!”

  Courtney.

  She stood in his bathroom doorway, silhouetted against the yellow light. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, stepping into the living room.

  He stared at her over the sofa and confirmed his initial impression that she was wrapped in his beige bath towel. He shoved his gun back into the holster, embarrassed now. “How’d you get in here?”

  She shrugged. “It was easy.” She turned and sauntered into his bedroom, and he noticed the flower tattoo on the back of her shoulder.

  Easy. Getting into his locked apartment.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” She switched on a lamp. “Just let me get dressed.”

  The bedroom door thumped shut, and he stood there, staring at it.

  Courtney Glass was in his bedroom.

  In a towel.

  Will scanned the apartment again, certain now about the Chinese-food smell. He walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light. The counters were vacant, as was the table. He opened the fridge. His usual array of beer and Gatorade stared back at him. Everything looked exactly as he’d left it except—

  The bedroom door opened and out came Courtney. She was barefoot and bare-legged, and she wore a zip-up black sweatshirt over frayed cutoffs.

  “Have you eaten?” she asked, breezing into the kitchen.

  “Time out. How’d you get in here?”

  “Your landlady downstairs.” She pulled open the oven and took out a small white carton. “You like kung pao chicken?”

  “My landlord let you in here?”

  “Now, before you get pissed, let me just say that she’s a sweet old lady.” She removed several more cartons from the oven and lined them up on the counter. “I told her it was our anniversary and I was here to surprise you.”

  Will tossed his keys on the counter beside the food. “And she believed that? She’s never even seen you before.”

  Courtney smiled up at him. “I can be very convincing.”

  He stared down at her, both annoyed and impressed. He was annoyed that she was here, in his kitchen, all wet and flirty. He was impressed that she’d tracked down his address.

  “How’d you find out where I live?”

  Her smiled widened. “Now that was the hard part. You’re not listed.”

  “I know.”

  “I had to hire a detective.”

  “Seriously, how’d you find me?”

  “Seriously, you’ll never know.” She started opening cartons. “I pegged you for a beef man, but you can share my chicken if you want. I also got egg rolls and wonton soup.”

  “Courtney.”

  She turned and pulled open a cabinet above the coffeemaker. “Where are your plates?”

  “Courtney, you can’t stay here.”

  She found the plates—all four of them—and got down two, along with a pair of cereal bowls. “You want steamed rice with yours?”

  He took her by the elbow and turned her around to face him. Just touching her arm reminded him why she needed to go. “You can’t stay here.”

  “Who said anything about staying? This is dinner. Consider it a thanks for the baseball tickets.”

  Something was wrong. This morning she’d been bitchy as hell and now here she was bringing him dinner.

  And parking her stuff in his bedroom.

  Under any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded. In fact, given his recent dry spell, he should have been overjoyed to find a half-naked woman waiting for him when he got home from work.

  But this wasn’t just any woman. And today hadn’t been just any day at work, either. He was in a foul mood. He was drained. His patience was at an all-time low, along with his willpower.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He clenched his teeth. Counted to three mentally. “Then why aren’t you at your sister’s?”

  She pulled her arm away and searched a few drawers until she found the flatware. “I can’t go there tonight. I don’t feel safe about it.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She scooped chicken onto the plates. “Let’s talk about it later. Right now, I just need to relax.”

  She needed to relax, and he needed her to leave. Will emptied his pockets onto the counter and blew out a sigh.

  “If you want a drink,” she said, “there are a couple beers in the fridge.”

  “I know. I bought the damn things.”

  “Why don’t you have one? I hear you’ve had a rough day.”

  Will rubbed the back of his neck, trying to rub out the tension. She’d talked to Devereaux, then. Or Fiona. Probably Devereaux, and the son of a bitch had given her his address.

  She pulled open the refrigerator and took out a Bud Longneck. She used her sweatshirt hem to twist off the top and then handed him the bottle.

  “There’s an Astros game on tonight. It’s probably started.”

  “Courtney.” He set the beer on the counter. “This isn’t a hotel. We can eat dinner, but then I’m taking you to your sister’s.”

  There. He’d said it. She wasn’t spending the night here, no matter how good she looked in that zipper thing.

  “Fine.” She shrugged, as if she could take it or leave it. Then she picked up a plate and carried it into the living room. She sat on the sofa and flipped on the TV.

  He let out a breath, both relieved and disappointed that she hadn’t put up more of a fight. “I’ve got to clean up.”

  He grabbed some clothes from his room and ducked into the bathroom that was still steamy from her shower. It smelled like perfume, too, which just added to his mood. What did she do, bathe in that stuff? He’d probably go to work tomorrow smelling like a woman.

  This was so screwed up. APD had caught ten murder cases in the past three weeks, and the prime suspect in one of them was on Will’s couch watching baseball.

  And his partner knew about it. Whatever credibility he’d been trying to build with his new colleagues was trashed. He’d likely be yanked off the homicide squad tomorrow and given some desk-jockey job.

  Will set the shower to scalding and tried to scrub off the death stench that clung to his skin. After a good ten minutes, he figured he’d done the best he could both cleaning up and avoiding the problem in his living room.
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  How was he going to get rid of her?

  He toweled off and yanked on some clothes. As he buttoned his jeans, his gaze landed on the pair of gold hoop earrings sitting beside the sink. He’d seen them this morning when he’d driven Courtney to work. She’d been wearing a dress, too, and those man-killer shoes, and he remembered feeling a flare of resentment over the idea that some guy might come sit in her chair today and think about touching her while she cut his hair.

  Just like he had done.

  Will yanked on a T-shirt and made his way back into the kitchen. The apartment was dark again, except for the television. He picked up the beer and took a gulp. Courtney had left chopsticks out for him, but he dragged open a drawer and got a fork. Then he grabbed his plate of cold food and joined her on the couch.

  “Do you have transportation?” he asked.

  “A friend dropped me off.”

  He plunked his plate on the table without comment.

  “The Astros are winning,” she said, trying to distract him with her sunny mood. “Hey, perk up. If it makes you feel any better, I had a crappy afternoon, too.”

  He sneered. “What, someone have a bad hair day?”

  Courtney got up and went into the bedroom. A moment later, she was striding toward the door with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

  Shit.

  She jerked the door open as he shot up from the couch.

  “Wait,” he said, shoving the door closed with his palm.

  “Move.” Her cheeks were flushed with anger, but her eyes glistened.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Now move.” She pulled the door, but he kept leaning. “You’re a jerk, you know that? And I probably make better money than you do, so you can just save the condescending bullshit!”

  “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

  “You think your job’s so great? At least I make people feel good about themselves. When was the last time you did that?”

  “Probably never,” he admitted, hoping she’d stay mad and not let those tears leak out. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well good for you.” She pulled the knob again, but he kept his palm flat on the door.

  “Move.”

  “I told you I’m sorry.”

  She crossed her arms and looked at the floor. Her cheeks stayed dry, but he could see her chin quivering. Jesus, was she going to cry over this? Obviously, he’d underestimated the severity of her bad day.

  Either that or she was seriously touchy about her job.

  Courtney acted so tough all the time, he hadn’t realized he could hurt her feelings. Or maybe he had, but he’d been so desperate for her to leave, he hadn’t cared.

  He hooked his finger through the strap of her bag and tugged it off her shoulder. “Don’t go.”

  She took a deep breath, and he kissed the top of her head. It was damp and sweet-smelling, and he kissed it again. She looked up at him, and he lost whatever scrap of resolve he’d had left.

  “Please?” He kissed her mouth. “I want you to stay.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Courtney wanted to enjoy the kiss, but she was too distracted by the hurt. His words cut. She’d known they were from different worlds, but she hadn’t realized he thought of her with contempt.

  She pulled away. “Stop.”

  He stopped, although she could see the frustration on his face.

  “Please forget what I said. You’re right, I’m a jerk.”

  Instead of kissing her again, he pulled her against his big, hard chest, right next to his heart.

  Of all the things he could have done, this was the worst. Until he wrapped his thick arms around her and held her there, in his protective cocoon.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. This was so dangerous. And so not her. She’d come running to this man for protection, and now here he was protecting her. Offering shelter and safety.

  And something even more tempting, judging by the ridge pressed against her stomach.

  And she wanted all of it so much she ached. How had she become like this? She’d never been dependent on a man. She’d never been like her mother. But on a day when she’d been more terrified than she’d ever been in her life, more afraid of the future than ever before, she’d gone running straight to a guy to make it all better.

  She felt the slight rock of his hips against hers, and realized she’d been pushing against him. Her arms went up around his neck. His hands slid slowly down over her back to cup her bottom.

  He kissed her temple. “What is this stuff?” Still holding her, he turned her away from the door and started easing her back into the living room.

  “What stuff?” Her toes barely touched the floor as he lifted her, pressing her against him as he walked.

  “That perfume.” But then his mouth was on hers, preventing her from answering. He was hurried and hungry, and the thrill of it shot through her as she realized this was a first. He wanted her. Before it had been her flirting and seducing—sometimes jokingly, sometimes not.

  But this seduction was all him, and it was totally serious. She heard the high rasp of her zipper being lowered, followed by a moan deep in his chest.

  “I knew you’d have something good under here.”

  She glanced down at her sheer black bra and watched his giant palms slide over her breasts. She was busty, but not quite enough to fill those hands. It was one of the things she liked about him—she was no lightweight, but still he was so much bigger than she was. It made her feel feminine.

  “It’s not perfume,” she told him now, as his thumbs stroked over her. Lord, she’d missed this. Something firm hit the back of her thighs, and she realized he’d backed her against the sofa arm.

  “Whatever it is, I love it. And that black thing, too. Hold on.”

  She toppled backward and he fell on top, the full weight of him crushing her into the sofa. She squealed with delight.

  “I have to see the rest of it,” he said, pushing up now with one arm to let her breathe. She loved the way his muscles strained the fabric of his T-shirt. She had the sudden urge to sink her teeth into him, and then she smiled at herself. That was a completely new desire for her. She must be starved for a man.

  “Please?” His finger trailed down to her belly button, and he looked into her eyes.

  She reached up and hooked an arm around his neck. “Yes,” she whispered, and kissed him.

  Another rasp of zipper, and she felt her shorts slide over her hips. She watched his eyes heat in the flicker of the television as the baseball game droned on. Then he kissed his way up her body, murmuring something, but she was too busy licking and nipping at his neck to make sense of it all. Then his hand cupped her and a sharp bolt of pleasure speared through her.

  “Oh my God.” She clutched her arms around his neck, pressing as close as she could, never wanting it to end. Instead of ending, it went on and on, and she grasped and pulled at him, frantic to get close, to feel every part of him closer and closer. He touched her everywhere while she closed her eyes and combed her fingers through his short, bristly hair. Finally, she shuddered violently and went limp underneath him.

  His hand gentled and stroked, then gradually trailed up to wrap around her waist.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered again, utterly lax. It was like yoga. Only the sated, hot flowing was so much deeper and so much better than ever before.

  He kissed her temple and rested his forehead against hers. Their skin was slick with sweat, and she didn’t know whether it was his or hers.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “Just checking.”

  She felt a powerful surge upward as he lifted her off the sofa. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on his bed. The mattress was firm, like she’d expected when she first saw it, and she smiled up at him as he eased down beside her.

  “You look happy,” he said.

  Her smile widened. She picked up his big hand and kissed the p
alm. He had a long, jagged scar there that she’d noticed days before, but now wasn’t the time to ask about it. “I like your hands,” she said instead.

  He lifted an eyebrow and dipped his head down to kiss her breast. “My hands, huh?” His breath was hot against her skin, making her entire body tighten. He kissed her breasts and her collarbone and her throat. She felt the pressure building again, and she hooked her calf around the back of his knee to bring him closer. She rocked her hips against him, and felt the evidence of his immense patience. He’d made the first part all about her and she loved him for it. It seemed such a minor thing, but in her whole life, no one had done that. She’d never realized it until now.

  She pulled back from the kiss and looked up into his face, at the intensity of his gaze. He looked so somber now, as if he’d sensed her seriousness, too. Whatever this was, it wasn’t a joke. Beads of sweat formed at his temples, and she knew he was working to control himself. The idea made her urgent for him, and she arched against him and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  His kiss became forceful, and she responded the same way. She wrestled with his T-shirt as he tugged at her bra and panties. She popped the front hook and had no idea what happened to the rest, but then they were naked except for his jeans. She raced her hands down the button fly as a drawer beside the bed scraped open. He hurried to cover himself and then pushed her thighs apart.

  Tears sprang into her eyes at the shock of him. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and tried not to cry out. She wanted this, and she didn’t want him to know it hurt her.

  “Wrap your legs around me.”

  She did, and felt relieved at the fit. And then the pain was gone, and it was just him and heat and the awesome power of what he was doing to her. She never wanted to let him go. She’d never felt like this, like she was joined so completely with someone. Like they were one thing, together, and he could touch every cell of her body, and the feeling went on and on until she thought she would die.

  “Courtney.” His voice was hoarse. “Honey, are you…?”