by Jenna Ryan
“I saw her, Ryder.”
“So did I. But she’s not here now, and I’m not about to search for her.”
“More people are arriving.” Mia craned her neck. “Two trucks and an old VW van.”
“That’s not a van. It’s the Scooby-Doo Mystery Machine.”
The amusement that rose relaxed her. “You’re such a cynic.”
“The word’s ‘realist.’ Think Billy the doll, and let’s get the hell out of here before the psychedelic van unloads its pothead occupants, and I feel compelled.”
“Cops are never really off the clock, are they? But I agree. Seeing as our witchy woman appears to have gone AWOL, we can arm wrestle for the first shower.”
A light gleamed in his eyes. “Does this mean you forgive me for lying to you?”
“Not dead, Ryder.” Turning to walk backward, she let her own eyes dance and her fingers latch onto his belt. “I can forgive quite a lot based on those two words. Then there’s the word ‘hot,’ which has been running through my head for several days now.” She drew him with her as she walked. “And don’t forget the word ‘sexy.’ That’s both applicable to you, and a derivative of the word ‘sex,’ which is something I’ve had on my mind since about an hour after I met you. How are your battle scars, by the way?”
“What battle scars?”
Setting her tongue on her teeth, she gave one last tug and brought him up against her. “That, Lieutenant Ryder, is an excellent answer.” But something in her brain stuttered before she could lift her mouth to his.
Blinking, she cleared her vision. And felt her heart drop like a stone.
“It’s him.” She curled her fingers around the front of Ryder’s shirt. “Behind you, in the black truck.” Her grip tightened. “Getting out of the black truck. The murderer.”
“Inside,” he said. “Now.” Spinning her around, he pushed. “I’m on him.”
In truth, he was on him so fast that Mia missed most of what happened. She knew Ryder went for his truck, but the psychedelic van screeched to a halt outside the bar and blocked her view.
Two engines gunned on the far side. There was a shriek of tires, a spectacular bolt of lightning and a long peal of thunder. By the time the van limped away, both Ryder and the murderer were gone.
The thought occurred, as a group of people carrying an odd assortment of equipment swept past her in a chattering stream, that the killer had been shocked to see them.
Or was it more, Mia wondered with an uneasy glance into the shadowed trees, that he’d been shocked to realize they’d seen him?
* * *
Although a similar thought ran through Ryder’s head, he had no time to explore it. The bastard had a fast truck and enough of a head start that he was second guessing as much as tailing. When he wound up on a single lane gravel road that appeared to circumvent the swamp, he figured he’d guessed wrong. But roads connected in unexpected ways, and his adrenaline was pumping too hard for him to ditch the pursuit.
Half a mile on, a rusty Ford with a lift kit skidded crosswise in front of him, and his decision to continue was rendered moot.
He was standing on the brakes when the driver’s door opened, and a bear-sized man tumbled out. Ryder saw the damaged front end and recognized the bear whose forehead and neck were covered in blood. It was Bo, and he looked to be minus at least one more tooth.
“Moron came straight for me,” he panted, doubled over. “If I hadn’t spun sideways, he’d have rammed into me head on. Look at my truck!”
Crouching, Ryder inspected Bo’s wounds. “Did you see the moron’s face?”
Bo yelped like a girl when Ryder pulled a jagged sliver of glass from his cheek. “That frigging hurt!” he bellowed. Then he scowled. “Thought I saw something in the half second I had to look, but it couldn’t have been real, ‘cause even my cousin Paulie wouldn’t drive like that, and he’s touched.”
“Drive like what?”
It seemed to strike Bo then who he was talking to because he batted Ryder’s hand away. “Screw you. I got nothing more to say. I’ve been blackballed, can’t set foot in the Honey Tree until the hell that broke loose last time you passed through these parts settles down.” He glared. “It was you and the bitch told me you talked to the swamp witch.”
“Actually, we didn’t, but that’s not the point.” Drawing his gun, Ryder settled the barrel on Bo’s Adam’s apple. “What you saw a few minutes ago is. How was the person who rammed into you driving?”
Bo swallowed, but otherwise didn’t twitch a muscle. “Guy was all over the road,” he said in a rasp. “He couldn’t see I was coming toward him because he had his arm up like this.” He demonstrated. “The top part of his face was covered. And when I say his face, I mean his eyes, too. Stupid jackass was driving blind.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Well, it stands to reason the guy’s insane, right?” Wearing nothing except a short white robe, Mia handed Ryder a glass of cloudy amber liquid. “Bathtub bourbon,” she said in response to his raised brow. “I’ve tasted more potent, but not much worse. Maybe the killer ran his truck off the road into a predator-filled pond, and all our problems are solved.”
“The deadly ones anyway.” Following her lead, Ryder took a drink of the moonshine and damn near whooshed out a mouthful of flames.
While he cursed, Mia regarded her glass in mild doubt. “I didn’t think it was all that strong. I mean, it has a kick, but only enough for a small buzz.”
Ryder dragged in much-needed air. “You call that a kick? I’m pretty sure it burned a hole in my chest.”
Her lips curved into a feline smile. “Clearly, you Florida-born cops need some extra training time in the bayou.” She snagged his shirt. “Not to worry, Lieutenant. You aren’t alone. Half a glass of anything half this strong and my ex would curl into a fetal position for the night. I’m hoping you’ll have more stamina.”
So was he. Without thinking, Ryder took another drink. This time, the flames only scorched the back of his eyeballs.
At her amused look, he held up his glass. “Where’d you get this, Mia?”
“The bartender. His name’s five syllables long. I didn’t actually catch it because I was worried sick about you. After I discovered what had happened and learned that Bo needed to see the doctor in Blackwater, I started thinking about you in other ways.” She moved closer, let her hips slide into his. “The more I thought, the hotter I got. So I took a cold shower and figured, problem solved. But you know what? It wasn’t. Still isn’t.” Setting her drink aside, she hooked her arms around his neck. “Leaves me with one big old dilemma, Lieutenant.”
“And that is?”
Lightning speared through the night sky and sparkled in her eyes. “Do I go downstairs and spend a dull evening letting a bartender with a ridiculously long name flirt with me, or do I stay here and take my chances with you?”
Could your own breath strangle you? Because even though Ryder knew he was breathing, there was no oxygen in the mix, only some kind of weird gas that paralyzed his muscles and smoked every thought in his head.
“Mia…” was the best he could manage. Until she freed an arm and rubbed her hand over the front of his jeans.
“Okay, eyes rolling back in my head now,” he told her. “But I need to ask you something first.”
“Yes, I want to have sex with you.”
Well, hell, talk about frying a man’s brain cells. Ryder breathed out carefully as she began a thorough below-the-belt exploration. “I thought you didn’t trust me.”
She laughed and made him that much harder. “I don’t have to trust you to want you. But I do.” A hint of mischief swam up into her eyes. “On both counts. Have another drink, cher, and relax. Storm’s gonna whip up to full fury and probably knock the power out for a good long while. Any man who drives with his arm over his eyes isn’t likely to grab a flashlight and try to attack us.”
Ryder could have argued that point if it hadn’t flown from his head when her hand
tightened on him. After that…well, injuries and guilt trips notwithstanding, he was a man and she was a woman, and why in God’s name was he fighting any part of this? Setting his glass wherever, he caught her by the shoulders and took her mouth.
As predicted, the storm whipped up. The sound of it fueled Ryder’s need. Hers, too, he hoped. He tasted the raw hunger that quivered inside her like a taut bow. His hands stroked, gliding over her shoulders and along her arms—silk fabric covering silkier flesh.
The taste of her was intoxicating. Sin was all he could think as his tongue plundered every lovely, dark space her mouth had to offer.
She used her hands and lips to tease him, to pull him toward that ragged edge where hunger and control collided, and heat blurred the line he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cross.
“You’re dragging your feet, Lieutenant.” She whispered the words against his mouth. “It’s one night, very short in the grand universal scheme. Let’s both of us just enjoy it.”
Ryder knew he was going down. Not sliding on a slippery slope, but plummeting into the pit of hell. However, for one exquisite moment of torture, torment and temptation, there’d be Mia. He figured that moment would be worth every second of a fiery forever. Without taking his mouth off hers, he gripped her hips and lifted her six inches off the floor.
She made a sound of approval in her throat and wrapped her legs around his hips.
Oh yeah, bring on eternal damnation. He was more than halfway there already. He’d take this send-off and be grateful. Assuming he lived through it, because every time she touched him, his temperature spiked at least ten degrees.
Mia pried her mouth from his. “Don’t worry, Ryder, we won’t spontaneously combust.”
Had he been thinking out loud? Did he care? Where was the damn bed?
He found it and would have lowered them both to the mattress if she hadn’t unhooked her legs, smiled her mysterious smile and pushed him onto it first.
“I like a rough edge,” she said, straddling him.
Somehow he got his hands on her waist and rolled her under him. “You live on one, lady. We do this, I can’t promise to hold back.”
Reaching up, she brought his mouth down hard onto hers. “I don’t want you to hold back.”
She arched her hips against him and made his breath hiss out. Fisting his hands in her hair, he rolled them again so she was back on top.
Thunder crashed and lightning split the sky wide open. Ryder felt the bed tremble. He knew some part of his soul was being torn away, but still he couldn’t stop. He fumbled with the belt of her robe, yanking it free and sending it into the darkness.
Mia’s fingers were more adept. She got his fly down and his jeans off while she drove him half mad, kissing his mouth, his neck, his chest and finally moving lower to an erection that was hard as stone.
Teeth gritted, he fought for control. He would have lost the battle if he hadn’t drawn her away and brought her back up.
“Not going anywhere without you, Mia.”
Smiling, she shook the hair from her face. “It’s your play, cher. Your play, your wa—ay. My God!”
Her hands clamped hard onto his shoulders. Her body bowed as his fingers slid inside her and his mouth took possession of her breast.
She pressed into him, gasped his name. He felt her melt before she roused herself enough to swear and jerk back. “You said together, Ryder. That wasn’t fair.”
Pulling her down, he kissed her—and smiled when he felt her teeth. “I owed you one, Mia.” Kissing her again, he let her feel the need pulsing inside him. “Call me a glutton for punishment.”
Her lashes fell halfway over her eyes. “You’re thinking you don’t deserve me.”
“I don’t.”
Reaching between them, she stroked him until his sweat broke a sweat. “I hear a ‘but.’”
“Not sure I can go back.”
“I’m sure.” Using his barely leashed restraint against him, she shoved him onto the mattress and lowered her body to his. “Time to ante up, Lieutenant. Stakes are high, and this is a two-person game. Let’s see which one of us holds and which one folds.”
Eyes sparkling in the storm light, she raised herself up, shook her hair back and took him inside her.
* * *
It was lust. It had to be, could only be. Man, woman, danger, storm, sex. It was a natural progression.
As she closed around him, Mia felt heat—and possibly something more—trembling inside her. Letting her head fall back, she blanked her mind and rode the wave while thunder shuddered up into her bones.
She set her hands on his shoulders for support. His mouth was everywhere. His lips slid along the side of her neck and over her collarbone. He used his tongue to explore the underside of her breast. Exhilarated, she set her mouth on his and took him over the top with her. Or he took her. Either way, she was flying, and the only threat she recognized came from her heart.
She knew the instant Ryder emptied inside her, because it was the same instant the sky broke apart and her gasps outpaced the storm.
She said something, no idea what. Words didn’t matter. How could anything matter after such a dazzling climax?
In her mind, the swamp lightning shattered into a thousand glittering pieces. So beautiful. So wild. Her smile lingered long after she realized Ryder was sprawled on top of her and their heads were at the wrong end of the bed.
Savoring the last of the glitter, Mia closed her eyes and let her lips curve. “I was going to seduce you with a striptease,” she told him. “I brought black stockings and a black lace garter belt.”
He grunted into her hair. “Might as well complete the torture and tell me you wear both on a daily basis under your clothes.”
“Not necessarily under my jeans.” She nipped his ear. “But quite often under my dresses at work. I threw them into my backpack at Madeleine’s place. Mostly out of habit.” She played with the ends of his hair. “But partly on the off chance.”
“If I’d known that, I’d have gotten a vitamin shot in town today, to compensate for loss of blood.”
“I didn’t notice any lack of energy, Lieutenant. But if you’re feeling weak, we could send for some food to go with our bourbon.”
“There’s no food on the planet that would go with that stuff. It’s swamp diesel, Mia.” He raised his head, and his eyes gleamed. “You, on the other hand, are pure bayou magic.”
She rubbed against him. “It’s past time I showed you some real magic, Rick Ryder.” Switching their positions, she caught his lower lip between her teeth and whispered, “It’s time to bring the storm outside in here with us.”
* * *
The night didn’t so much fly by as dissolve into a pool of desire, of give and take, with one sensation layered on top of another. Because of that, Mia had to look at the bedside clock three times before she believed what she saw.
“How can it not even be midnight yet?” She checked Ryder’s phone for confirmation. “That’s not possible, is it? Not really. We’ve had sex four times, and each time was—”
“Amazing,” Ryder said.
She grinned at the smug half smile that played on his lips. “Stop looking so pleased with yourself, Lieutenant. I’m the one who brought along the stockings and the garter belt. I’m also the one who practiced yoga and suffered through a thousand childhood ballet classes with a teacher who believed that torture was good for the soul. All you had to do was—”
“Enjoy.” He propped up on one elbow. “React.” His gaze darkened as he slid a hand from her shoulder to her waist and made her shiver. “Give thanks to God and my jackass father that I was born male.”
“All that gratitude, and it’s still fifteen minutes shy of midnight.” Stretching her arms over her head, Mia sent him a sly smile. “I want a shower and maybe a little more of that white lightning.”
Catching her by the hair, he brought her back to him. “A little more of that…” He lowered his mouth to hers. “And a lot more o
f this.”
It was thirty minutes into the witching hour when Mia strolled out of the steaming bathroom.
She felt revitalized, she decided. And more than a little frightened. Not merely of a killer—though that fear was never really out of her mind—but of feelings she hadn’t expected to have, for a man who’d purposely put her safety at risk. Done for a reason, yes, and good one, if she was honest. But still.
Securing her robe, she walked past the window. Lightning continued to flicker over the swamp. As she pulled her hair from the collar, she heard music, something eerie and old, wafting up from the bar downstairs. Apparently, ghost hunters believed in heightening the atmosphere.
She would have turned away if she hadn’t spotted a movement below. Curious, she scanned the parking lot.
“Ryder?” Going to her knees, she squinted into the shadows. “Ryder?”
“I’m right behind you, Mia. If the killer’s out there, you’re presenting him with an excellent target.”
“I know, but…” Taking hold of his shirt, she drew him down to her level and pointed. “Behind the Mystery Machine. I think that’s Bo creeping around. He seems to be paying an awful lot of attention to the tires.”
Ryder shrugged. “Guy was blackballed.”
She leveled him with a look.
A grin appeared. “You want me to stop him.”
“From vandalizing a vehicle that doesn’t belong to him? Yes, Lieutenant, I want you to stop him. And not chuckle while you’re doing it.”
“Why not? You’ll be chuckling.”
She went over and picked up his Glock. “I’m not a cop. You are. Ghost hunters have the same rights as anyone else.”
He fought a smile as he shoved the gun into his waistband. Grabbing his jacket in one hand, he wrapped the other around her neck. “Lock the door behind me. If you’re feeling adventurous, you might want to get dressed. As long as we’re awake, we might as well see what ghost hunting entails.”
“You’re not interested in ghosts. You just think there’s safety in numbers.”
“Yeah, I do.” He kissed her. “Use the deadbolt.”
