Donnell Ann Bell

by Donnell Ann Bell

  “What?”

  “How much time?”

  Her gaze traveled to the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes tops. Joe?”

  He drew her close, returning his hands to the hem of her turtleneck sweater. Tugging upward, he left her gaping and standing in her kitchen in a shimmering peach bra. “Joe?”

  “Relax. I have no intention of taking you here.” He glanced at the table and remembered an earlier fantasy. “Not that I wouldn’t like to.”

  “Joe!”

  He liked that he’d shocked her. He also liked that he read no hesitation, only a lust-filled gaze that matched his own. Breathing in the smell of citrus, he nibbled his way down the column of her throat. Alternating between kisses and love bites, he found the spot behind her ear especially sensitive, and concentrated there for a while. And when Mel collapsed into a set of full-fledged sighs, he smiled in satisfaction.

  “You like that?”

  “You’re getting warmer,” she said breathlessly.

  “What about this?” His hand grazed her breasts, the warm, flat plain of her stomach, then settled on the button of her jeans. Granting him permission via a wet, don’t-stop kiss, he unsnapped the button of her jeans. Her breath hitched as his hand went lower. “How much time?”

  She threw her head back. “Not enough... but who cares?”

  “That’s my girl.” Giving her pleasure affected him as well, and when his own urges demanded equal time, he ordered them back.

  It didn’t take long to learn the rhythms that rocked her. Her soft mews became louder. Still, he granted her no release. Not until he took her to the edge.

  For silent moments they stood, entrenched in each other’s arms, Mel panting, Joe stunned at the forgotten emotions now swamping him.

  She chuckled against his chest. “I know it was good for me, the question is what about you?”

  “It was great for me.” Placing his forehead against hers, he said, “I’m not a total jackass. When you wear a pager, you make the most of your time.”

  She left his arms, but rewarded him with a smile. Fastening her jeans, she reached for her top. “Well, you made the most of mine. Then she looked at the clock and it was back to business as usual. “If I invite you to dinner, can you pick up the boys?”

  The smell of barbecue had been almost as tempting as her. “You got it.” On his way out, he kissed her. “Besides, now that I know the plan is to starve me sexually, the least you can do is feed me.”

  Joe flipped the collar of his jacket to ward off the cold, then tried to conceal a satisfied grin as he jogged up the high school steps. He’d seduced a beautiful woman, she’d invited Matt and him to dinner, and if he was lucky, he might not get called out tonight.

  Two of Matt’s teammates met Joe at the top of the stairs, one he instantly recognized as team captain Chet Washington. “Hi, Mr. Crandall,” the black six-foot-four post player greeted him. “Matt’s still in the locker room if you’re looking for him.”

  “Thanks.” Noting their damp hair, flushed faces and the fact they appeared to be dragging, he asked, “Tough practice?”

  A look passed between the two, followed by Chet saying, “The worst. I’ll say one thing for Coach. He doesn’t play favorites. He gets mad at one of us, we all die.”

  “Someone get on his bad side?” Joe asked, hoping the troublemaker wasn’t Matt.

  “Someone didn’t show,” Chet said.

  “Or bother to call,” snarled Chet’s sidekick.

  “So to remind the rest of us not to pull something similar,” Chet explained, “we spent practice running suicides.”

  Joe winced. Suicides were a brutal conditioning drill designed to increase endurance and speed. “Two more days, guys, and you’ll be out for winter break.”

  “Can’t be soon enough for me, Mr. Crandall,” Chet said. “See you later.”

  Joe walked away, approving of the team’s vote to make Washington captain. The soon-to-be-graduate was a leader, looked Joe in the eye and called him mister, perhaps unaware that he was a cop. No big surprise. He doubted Matt went around broadcasting the information. It wasn’t a topic that made a kid popular or got him invited to parties.

  Joe pulled open the heavy steel door and sauntered onto the gymnasium court. The only people in sight were Rick Hood and his assistant coaches. The trio wore somber expressions, and at Joe’s entrance, Rick waved him over.

  “Heard you’re missing a player,” Joe said.

  “Yeah. Any idea where he could be?” Rick replied.

  “I was told Matt’s in the locker room.”

  “It’s not Matt,” Rick said. “My missing player’s Luke Norris.”

  Joe’s stomach dropped at the same time Matt and a few of his teammates exited the locker room.

  His son nodded to his friends, then eyed the adults the way a prisoner viewed the backseat of a squad car. Nearing six foot, the boy seemed suddenly smaller. His usually long strides became shorter as he approached. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Where’s Luke?” Joe asked.

  Matt rolled his eyes and broached the subject head on. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Coach, ‘I don’t know.’ Luke didn’t say a thing about missing practice when I saw him this morning.”

  “You call his cell?” Joe asked.

  “Only about a dozen times.” Matt glanced down at his shoes. “He doesn’t answer.”

  “Luke Norris has eight hours to explain to me why he should still be part of this team,” Rick said. Then refocusing on Matt, he added, “I cut older players to give you boys this opportunity. If I find out you’re lying, Matt, you’re off the team, too.”

  Matt’s face turned the color of beets and the father in Joe took over. “He says he doesn’t know.” Placing his arm around Matt’s shoulders, and wondering how the hell he was going to break this to Melanie, Joe said, “C’mon, son. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Joe took so long to pick up the boys Mel’s heightened arousal evaporated into worry. So much so that when she spotted him coming up the walk toward her house, a hard knot had formed in the pit of her stomach. She stepped out on the porch. A snowflake brushed her cheek and she wiped it away. “What took you so long? Where are the boys? I had dinner on the table twenty minutes ago.”

  The look he gave her sent utter panic right down to her foundation. He took her hand and led her inside to the couch. “Why don’t we sit for a minute.”

  Her heart lurched. “I don’t want to sit down. What’s happened? Where are the boys?”

  “Sit down,” he repeated. “Matt’s in his room, checking his e-mail.”

  This really beat all. Fear did a mind-meld with exasperation. To make dinner extra special, she’d included dessert. For what? So Matt could check his e-mail? Curbing an impulse to tell Joe what she thought of his son’s manners, and worse tolerating them, she said, “So where’s Luke?”

  “Matt’s checking his e-mail in hopes there’s a message from him.”

  She cocked her head. “What?”

  “Luke didn’t show up for practice.”

  Suddenly, she understood why Joe was so anxious to get her off her feet. With him following, she bolted from the couch and ran into the kitchen. She picked up the phone and pressed speed dial, only to reach Luke’s voice mail.

  Keeping her voice steady when she wanted to scream, she said, “Luke, call me right now. Why weren’t you at practice? If this is about last night, we need to talk. Call me. Better yet, come home!”

  Her beautifully decorated table, her home-cooked meal lay abandoned. She wanted to rip off the table cloth and let her prized ceramic bisque plates fall to the floor. Frantic, she paced the length of the kitchen. Luke. Where was he?

  “Melanie,” Joe said from the doorway.

  She pivoted
, then stared at the man as panic sent rational thinking into exile. “I know he was upset, but I thought he’d calmed down. I can’t believe this.” Her throat ached from the hysteria taking hold. “Luke wouldn’t miss practice, Joe. He wouldn’t. Do you think Maxwell―”

  Joe crossed the room and grabbed her shoulders. “No. And neither do you. Think. If Luke had been acting normally, I might consider it, but he’s having some emotional issues. Calm down.”

  Right now, those words weren’t part of her vocabulary. She wrenched out of his grasp. She strode into the living room, opened the closet and reached for her jacket.

  “Where do think you’re going?”

  “To find my son.”

  “And where do you plan to look?”

  Clutching her coat to her chin, she lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut. Damn his irrefutable logic. Did he honestly think she could sit by and do nothing while Luke was missing?

  “Melanie, look at me.”

  She opened her eyes to find Joe just inches away. The top buttons on his shirt were open, revealing a smattering of dark hair over his solid chest. She lifted her gaze to his eyes, a beautiful deep brown and full of concern. He’d given her such pleasure, she’d been so happy― she longed to go back in time to an hour before. So much had happened between them. They’d begun their relationship at odds; who would believe she’d turn to him in her darkest moments.

  Without a word, he pulled her against him, and for a moment she caved, leaned into his strength and allowed him to absorb some of her agony.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Trust me.”

  Seconds later, she withdrew from his embrace.

  “Can you think of anywhere Luke might go?” Joe asked.

  “I don’t know. He’s made a lot of new friends. I mentioned that girl he’s been talking to on his cell phone.”

  “It’s a start,” Joe said. “Matt will be here soon. I’m sure he knows her name. Do you mind if I look in Luke’s room?”

  “No. I’ll go with you.”

  Joe squeezed her hand. “Now we’re talking. Let’s focus on what we can control.”

  Upstairs in Luke’s room, Mel leaned against the door jamb, knowing if she didn’t, her legs would fail to support her. Joe rifled through her son’s inner sanctum, probably the way he did a crime scene. He opened drawers, examined papers and sifted through clothing. He searched behind pictures, behind furniture and under Luke’s mattress. Shaking his head, each time he found nothing substantial, he moved to the closet, felt inside pockets and shoes then ran a hand over the upper shelf.

  Her stomach roiled as he went about these tasks. Naturally, she wanted a clue to Luke’s whereabouts. What she didn’t want was the knowledge she’d badly misjudged her son.

  When Joe’s silence became unbearable, she asked, “Exactly what are you looking for?”

  “Notes from friends, receipts that will tell us his hangouts, that sort of thing.” He continued his search of the closet.

  “Drugs?”

  Glancing over his shoulder, Joe held her gaze. “We’d be fools not to consider it, Mel.”

  She hugged herself tightly. “I’ll bet you’re wondering how I of all people can be this naïve.”

  He lifted a brow. “I don’t wonder at all. You of all people have tried your damndest to protect your son.”

  She swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “You seem to have done all right.”

  “You think?” He closed the closet door and sat down at Luke’s computer.

  She blinked at the sarcasm filling his voice. “You’re saying you haven’t?”

  He squinted as he moved the mouse over the desktop icons. “When Matt turned thirteen, his mom and I discovered he’d developed a fondness for alcohol and smoking.”

  “Matt? No way. At thirteen?”

  Joe nodded. “Karen and I were in the midst of our divorce. Matt was angry about the breakup and hanging out with a new crowd in school.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Put the fear of God in him.” Joe clicked on the screen and a Word document popped up. “It’s not fun being a cop’s son and trying to fit in.”

  “I would guess not. What happened to his friends?”

  “I put the fear of God in them, too. As it turned out, we didn’t see much of them after that.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Mel said wryly.

  Joe leaned back and folded his arms. “Well, the good news is, there’s not one sign that Luke’s on drugs, and as of two nights ago, he was doing his homework.”

  Mel closed the distance to look over Joe’s shoulder. “Death of a Salesman. Yeah, I’ve seen him reading it.”

  “I hated that play,” Joe said.

  “It’s a classic,” she argued.

  “Maybe so. But why do classics carry the theme, ‘Life’s a bitch and then you die?’”

  She chuckled.

  “Sorry. In your present frame of mind, I should probably keep my opinions to myself.”

  “Please don’t. Right now, your opinions are all that’s keeping me sane.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss against his cheek, needing not only his strength, but the comfort in having him here. “Do you see anything else?”

  Joe closed the document and opened up Luke’s e-mail program. A small box flashed, requiring a password.

  “Any ideas?”

  Frowning, she said, “He’s only had this address for a couple of weeks. I didn’t think to ask.”

  He stood and grasped her hand. “For what it’s worth, Mel, Matt’s had his e-mail several years, and I still don’t know his password. We’re parents, not perfect.”

  “Thank you for that.” She pulled back, feeling slightly better, but no closer to finding her son. “What now?”

  “Got any recent pictures?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  He hesitated. “If Luke doesn’t come home soon, I’ll distribute them tonight at third shift briefing.”

  She tasted bile. “Oh, no.”

  “Having every cop in the city looking for your son’s not a bad thing.”

  “When you put it that way.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “Come with me. I have some current pictures in my bedroom.”

  In the hallway, she paused. She had a perfect view from her bedroom window, and the tiny snowflake she’d felt earlier had morphed into several. Her self-control disintegrated as she fell into the cop’s open arms. “Oh, Joe, where could he be?”

  “Oh, my God. When the killer jumped out of the pantry with that butcher knife, I almost peed my pants,” Jennifer Franchini said.

  Luke grinned, the first smile he’d managed in hours. After dark, the high school cheerleader clung to him.

  “Weren’t you scared, Luke?”

  “Nah.” In truth, he hadn’t watched much of the movie. While she munched on popcorn, he’d glanced at his watch, surreptitiously using the day-glo feature, and wishing he was at practice. He needed to get over it. If his grandparents had their way, he’d be living in Podunk, Missouri. He doubted they even had a basketball program.

  When they’d arrived earlier, the Tinseltown lot had been empty. It had been cold, but not freezing. After eight, the place was packed, the temperature had dropped and snow was sticking to cars and to windows. He drew himself into his jacket and tried not to worry about where he’d spend the next several hours.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Jen said. “You’re not still thinking about that fight with your mom, are you?”

  He stared straight ahead. He’d out-and-out lied to Jen, telling her nothing about his grandparents demanding custody, or that he hadn’t been home in hours. What kind of loser got shipped off to his grandparents at almost sixteen years old?

 
“Luke? You gotta cheer up. I fight with my folks all the time.” Jen grinned up at him. “What’s she gonna do, kick you out?”

  Before he had time to dwell on the subject, a voice from behind them said, “Well, lookie here.”

  He and Jen turned to face three guys wearing letterman jackets. Luke had seen them before, and although he didn’t know any of them personally, he did recognize Gavin Mitchell, a senior at Coronado and the high school’s first-string quarterback.

  “Hi, Jenny,” one of the boys next to Gavin said in a mocking voice.

  Jen grabbed Luke’s arm. “Bobby, Leo,” she replied. It didn’t escape Luke’s notice she didn’t say hi to Gavin, or that he hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a second.

  The kid named Bobby asked, “Is this your new boyfriend, Jenny?” A kid who appeared to have more muscles than brains, he leered at Jen.

  “He might be,” she said.

  “Sort of robbing the cradle there, aren’t ya, babe?” Leo asked.

  From their expressions and circling patterns, this wasn’t a friendly encounter. Luke wasn’t scared yet, but he damned sure wasn’t comfortable.

  “Shut up, Leo,” Gavin said. His gaze remained focused on Jen, and she appeared particularly fixated on him as well.

  “Probably likes him because he’s a big shot basketball player,” Bobby chimed in. He placed his hands over his heart. “Oh, but wait, he’s not anymore. The way we hear things, he skipped practice tonight.”

  Jen glanced at Luke and he shifted uneasily.

  “You think Ol’ Man Hood’s gonna put up with that shit?”

  “I thought you told me practice was cancelled,” she said quietly.

  Luke shrugged.

  Bobby laughed. “So guess what? He ain’t no big shot basketball player, Jen, he’s just a pussy.”

  “Knock it off, Bobby. Let’s go,” Gavin said.

  “Did you quit the team?” Jenny asked.

  Luke’s face grew hot. “What if I did?”

  “You lied to me?”

  Words were useless now. The quarterback’s boys were in his face. Gavin threw his arms up and walked several feet away.