Fatal Hearts

by Norah Wilson

  Down her midriff he went again, across her flat belly. He moved lower, and she thought she might come just from feeling his warm breath between her thighs. But then he moved lower still, all the way to her feet. Each foot got a massage, which was a strange combination of arousing and soothing. She wondered briefly if he knew reflexology. Whether he did or not, he was playing her body like a freakin’ violin.

  By the time he’d made his way back up to her thighs, she was completely ready. But he had other ideas. With strong, insistent hands, he urged her to roll over. Then he repeated the journey from her sensitive nape to her toes. He used his calloused palms on her back, then trailed hot, openmouthed kisses over it. The curve of her butt beneath the scant material of her lacy panties seemed to hold endless fascination for him, but her arousal level had reached the knife-edge between pleasure and torture. She needed him inside her.

  “Please, Boyd. No more. I need you now.”

  He flipped her over—with her active, eager aid. When he grasped her panties, she lifted herself so he could ease them down and toss them aside. She expected him to peel his own clothes off and locate a condom, but, instead, he moved between her thighs again. She shuddered in helpless delight at the feel of his breath on her naked skin. It took all her willpower to close her legs and reach for him.

  He looked up. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want this?”

  She ducked her head. “I’m so wet.”

  “I know.” He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. “And you smell like heaven. Like all things good. I can’t wait to taste you.”

  “But you’ll drown down there,” she protested laughingly.

  “Baby, if I do, I’ll die a happy man.”

  “Boyd!”

  He touched her pubic hair lightly, and that barely there sensation sent a jagged bolt of excitement through her. “So are you going to let me kiss you here?”

  By way of answer, she let her thighs fall farther open.

  The first touch of his tongue—a wide, silky stroke—was electrifying. She arched up, then fell back. He continued to lap at her, and she gripped the coverlet with her fingers just to hold herself together. Then he closed his mouth around her and suckled gently. She started to crest, but he backed off immediately, soothing her with words and strokes of his hand on her thigh. Then he went back to her sex, driving her up once more with his lips and tongue. Each time she hovered on the brink of climax, he soothed her down again, then repeated the process until she was wild, begging.

  Finally, he stripped his clothes off, slid a condom on, and lay down with her. She pulled him on top of her, guiding him to her entrance. He thrust home, once, twice, three times, and she started to come. And come and come. The climax rolled on and on as he pumped into her. She heard her own harsh breathing, heard her incoherent words. For a second, it was almost like being out of body, seeing herself—oh God, hearing herself—having this fantastic, mind-blowing orgasm. Then reality pulled her back in. She could feel the deep trembling starting in him and just held on tight as he plunged toward his own release.

  Afterward, he collapsed on her for just a second, then moved away. Or tried to. She closed her arms around his neck. To hell with keeping her distance. After that experience, she wasn’t ready to let go.

  He rolled, pulling her on top of him. She felt absolutely boneless, as if she were in danger of melting down around him like warm syrup.

  “I didn’t know it was possible to feel so good.”

  He laughed. “You’re welcome.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. His face looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen it. “Next time, it’s my turn to torture you.”

  His grin started slow, then spread like a pat of butter melting in a hot pan. Damn, but that is one sexy smile. “I’ll look forward to it.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “But right now, I’d better get cleaned up. It’s almost time to head over to Dr. Gunn’s.”

  She grabbed his arm and looked at his watch. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Is that really the time?”

  “It is.” His expression was self-satisfied. Smug, even. Which was okay by her. He deserved to look smug.

  She moved off him so he could get up, then admired his backside as he strode toward the bathroom.

  Her smile faded. Within the hour, he’d know who his birth mother was. If he was right that Josh had been murdered, and if that crime was committed to stop Josh’s private investigation, then Boyd would be infinitely closer to the answers he sought.

  Infinitely closer to leaving.

  The thought caused a swell of dread, which quickly condensed into a hard, indigestible knot in her stomach.

  And with it came panic. How could she be so upset about this? His leaving was not just inevitable, it was something she had devoutly wished for. She wasn’t anywhere near ready for anything permanent. She had plans. Plans that had already been derailed once by letting herself get attached.

  Then another thought occurred to her, and the knot in her stomach became a huge boulder. She sat up in bed. “Boyd!”

  Boyd was at the bedside in second. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t think you should go over to Dr. Gunn’s alone.”

  He sagged. “That’s what you scared the crap out of me for?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “It’ll be fine.” He sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “I’ve gone into much more dangerous situations, Hayden.”

  She slanted him a look. “Without a weapon?”

  Okay, she had him there. “The guy wants to get some stuff off his chest. That’s all.” He hoped.

  “Maybe he just said that to get you over there. If Josh’s death was related to the birth investigation, and if this guy was involved in the birth . . . Boyd, he could be setting you up.”

  “Already thought of that. I’ll tell him I set up a fail-safe. That if anything happens to me, the notes from my investigation will go straight to the Fredericton Police Force.”

  “You think he’ll believe that?”

  “He’d better believe it, because it’s true.” He brushed a tightly curled strand of hair back behind her ear. “I’ve preprogrammed a message to go to Detective Ray Morgan. I update it whenever I have something to add, and every night I push the programmed send date back by twenty-four hours. Before I go to Dr. Gunn’s, I’ll just update the log, indicating I’m going to meet with him to finally learn the identity of my birth mother.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  He frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? You’ve just said it’s not dangerous.”

  Dammit. “That doesn’t mean I want you in the middle of this. Hell, anywhere near this.”

  “Too late for that.” She stood. “I’ve been helping you. And even if I hadn’t been, they’d probably assume I have been from all the time we’ve spent together.”

  Shit. She had a point there. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” he said. “If Josh was murdered, the more people who know what’s going on with my investigation, the less likely the murderer is to believe they can clean this up the way they did with Josh. You know. So does Dr. Stratton. And Detective Morgan, of course.”

  “So there’s no reason why I shouldn’t come along.”

  He massaged the back of his neck. “I’m saying having all those people know makes it marginally less risky for me to be confronting people. I still don’t want to involve you directly in the investigation.”

  “I’m coming along.” She bent to pick up her underwear. “Josh was my friend, and I’m already part of this. And besides, you could use a second set of eyes and ears. Medically trained ones. Have you stopped to consider that this truth of his that he wants to tell might be a piece of misdirection? If I’m there, I can quiz him about the details, see if he trips up.”

 
He really didn’t think this meeting was going to be dangerous. Though Hayden’s point was well taken, that this could be a ploy to lure him there, she hadn’t heard Dr. Gunn’s voice on the phone. Boyd’s gut told him this was a man who was ready—no, anxious—to unburden himself. Just the same, there was no way he was letting Hayden walk into it.

  “Good point.”

  “I’m glad you agree, because—”

  “I’ll relay what he said right away, and you can tell me if it was bullshit.”

  “But—”

  “You can wait in the car outside the house, okay? I’ll come report to you as soon as we’re through. If he fed me a line of crap, medically speaking, you can straighten me out and I’ll go back at him, see if he wants to change his story.”

  “But—”

  He glowered at her. “That’s my final offer, Hayden.”

  She glowered right back. “I can’t believe how high-handed you’re being about this!”

  “Not high-handed. Cautious. You’re my backup, baby. If you think something’s gone wrong, you can call in the cavalry. It just makes more sense than both of us going in there.”

  He saw the resistance drain from her and knew that he’d won. Thank God.

  “Okay, I’ll stay in the car. But you have to dial my phone and keep the line open. Otherwise, I might not be able to hear if it goes bad.”

  “Agreed.”

  Forty minutes later, they pulled up outside Dr. Gunn’s Mitchell Street home. It was older and not as large as the new developments, but Boyd figured it was worth a big chunk of change. And it was extremely well maintained. The shrubs and flower beds were meticulously groomed, the grass was golf-course green, and the driveway was set with stone pavers in a herringbone pattern. In the drive sat a shiny black Lexus SUV. Clearly, there were no money problems at Casa Gunn.

  “Okay, call my phone,” Hayden said.

  He obliged, then slid the phone into his pocket. With a quick kiss, he climbed out of the car, walked to the front door, and rang the bell. He could hear the echo of it inside, but no one came to answer. After a moment, he rang it again.

  “What’s going on? Why is no one answering?” Hayden’s voice came from his pocket.

  “Hush, he could open the door at any moment.”

  “But he’s not.”

  He frowned and rang the bell again. “He said he had some company that might take an hour or two to get rid of, and to come on over at eleven. I’m sure I’m not wrong about the time.”

  “Judging by the ‘DR.GUNN’ vanity plates, that’s got to be his vehicle in the drive,” she said.

  He leaned sideways and looked in the long, narrow window flanking the door. Nothing moved. He rapped on the door with his knuckles.

  Then he tried the door. The knob turned in his hand. Unlocked. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

  He turned back toward the street, meeting Hayden’s gaze. “Door’s open. I’m going in. Stay there.”

  He pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Hello?” he called. No answer.

  Leaving the door ajar, he moved farther into the foyer. “Hello? Dr. Gunn? It’s Boyd McBride.”

  He took a few more steps so he could look down the hall. “Dr. Gunn?”

  A door closed behind him, and he whirled, ready to launch himself at the threat.

  Hayden, he told his jackhammering heart. It was Hayden who closed the door, not a hostile.

  “Boyd?” Her voice sounded scared. He focused on her face and saw that he was the reason she was scared.

  “Jesus, Hayden,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting the door to close. Tactically, we don’t do that when we enter a building. Never close off an avenue of retreat.”

  She looked back at the door. “Should I open it again?”

  The seconds it took to open a door could be the difference between life and death, if an officer came under fire. On the other hand, this wasn’t Toronto, and it wasn’t like they were flushing addicts out of a crack house. Under the circumstances, maybe leaving the front door yawning open wasn’t the best idea anyway.

  “What you should do is go back to the car where you agreed you would stay.”

  Hayden hugged herself. “Something’s wrong. You’re inside the house yelling your head off, and he’s not responding.”

  He turned around. “Dr. Gunn?” he called again. Then louder, “Dr. Gunn? Hello? Anyone home?”

  Something was very wrong. Those hairs on the back of his neck that had prickled when he’d found the door unlocked went into full bristle mode. If he had a sidearm on him, he’d have drawn it right about now.

  Dammit, why had he let Hayden talk him into bringing her at all? If he’d slipped out without her, she wouldn’t be standing here right now.

  Or maybe she would. She was a stubborn thing.

  And what should he do with her now? Make her stay here in the foyer or keep her with him where he could hopefully protect her?

  As he was debating the question, she brushed past him and headed toward what he imagined was the kitchen.

  “Hayden!”

  She turned to look at him. “His car is home and he’s not answering the doorbell or our calls. He might have had a heart attack or a stroke or an aneurysm or God knows what.”

  Maybe. Or maybe something even worse had happened. “Just do me a favor and stay behind me. If it turns out to be a medical emergency, he’ll be all yours.”

  “Okay.”

  Since she’d been heading for the kitchen, and since there was a faint sound coming from that direction, he kept going. The sound turned out to be the dishwasher in wash mode. The scent of coffee lingered faintly in the air, but it was overpowered by the smell of a cleanser. If Dr. Gunn had entertained a guest in here, he’d cleaned up very thoroughly afterward. There wasn’t so much as a coffee cup or a plate or a stray crumb to be seen.

  He nodded his head to indicate they would go left next, through the adjoining room. It appeared to be a formal dining room. He moved through it and emerged into an open area, which he quickly realized was an extension of the foyer. From where he stood, he could see the entryway where they’d come in, as well as the foot of a staircase.

  He walked back to the entryway, calling Dr. Gunn’s name again. Still no answer.

  He turned right this time. The first room he encountered appeared to be Dr. Gunn’s study, or so he imagined from the masculine color scheme and the shelves of books lining the wall. When he stepped fully into the room, he realized why Dr. Gunn hadn’t answered the door.

  “Jesus.”

  “What?” Hayden moved around him before he could stop her. “Omigod!”

  Dr. Gunn, or what Boyd presumed was Dr. Gunn, sat in the chair behind his desk, his body hunched forward on the leather-bound blotter in a pool of blood.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Stay back,” he commanded when Hayden would have rushed forward.

  “But he might still be alive. I need to check for vitals.”

  Boyd had seen enough of these scenes to know Angus Gunn was beyond Hayden’s help, or anyone else’s. At least on this plane of existence. He also knew she had no choice but to check. “Go ahead and check for a pulse.”

  She tiptoed up to Dr. Gunn’s body and pressed a finger to his neck. “Nothing.” She pulled her hand back and wiped it on her jeans. “He’s cooling off fast too.”

  “Come on—let’s get out of here,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “We’re just going to leave him?”

  “We’re going to remove ourselves from this crime scene before we contaminate it any further than we already have.”

  A patrolwoman was on-site within two minutes. Boyd stepped up to talk to her, leaving Hayden leaning against his car. He gave the officer his name and Hayden’s, and explained he’d had an appointment with the doctor at eleven. When Gunn d
idn’t answer the door, he became worried and entered the house to find the scene in the study. Of course, the officer went in to confirm the situation herself, and she emerged considerably paler. When she radioed the dispatcher, her voice was higher and thinner than it had been on arrival as she called for backup.

  “Your first DB?” Boyd asked.

  Her eyes sharpened. “You a cop?”

  “Detective. Toronto Police Service Homicide Squad.” He held out his hand.

  “Constable Ellen Green.” She grasped his hand in a firm shake. “Little far from home, aren’t you?”

  “My twin brother was the journalist found dead in his car in Odell Park last month.”

  “Josh McBride.” She nodded. “I remember. So what are you doin’ in town?”

  “Carrying through on my brother’s investigation of our birth parents.” It was perfectly true. Just not the whole truth. “That’s why I’d come to talk to Dr. Gunn, actually. I spoke to him on the telephone just this morning, and he said he knew who my mother was, promised to tell me all about it.”

  “Guess he had a change of heart, huh?”

  “Or someone changed it for him.”

  At that point, two more squad cars arrived, and Boyd could hear more sirens approaching. He stood back while the officers entered the house. Mentally, he pictured what they were doing, clearing the residence room by room to ensure no suspects lurked inside, not to mention other victims or witnesses or even free-roaming pets who could contaminate the scene.

  Even as they worked, more units arrived to set up perimeter containment to seal off escape routes.

  Then the EMTs rolled in. Boyd knew the ambulance wouldn’t be leaving with a patient, but he figured he’d let them come to that conclusion themselves. It’d be hours before the scene was processed and the body ready for transport to the morgue.

  He glanced over at Hayden. She looked a little shaken still, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. He started to go to her, but a gray Ford Taurus rolled up. Boyd was relieved to see it was Ray Morgan who climbed out of the vehicle. Officer Green met him at curbside and the two of them talked for a few minutes. Then Green pointed to Boyd. Morgan thanked the uniform and headed in Boyd’s direction.