The dog whimpered. “Tomorrow I don’t work until two, so I’ll come home early and take you for a run and take you to the dog park. And I promise no overnight stay tomorrow. Unless…How do you feel about cats?”
The dog whimpered. Mark reached into the dirty clothes and gave the dog one of his socks.
Bacon barked and his tail thumped from side to side. Mark grinned, only slightly embarrassed that he’d become such a sap when it came to his dog.
Chapter
Seventeen
Annie started stripping as soon as he’d texted back. She bolted toward her bathroom. Pirate hobbled excitedly beside her, certain they were playing a game of cat and mouse.
She got to the bathroom, turned on the shower, dropped her clothes in the hamper, and stepped under the spray of water before it was warm.
Squealing, she grabbed the soap and started washing. Yup, this made it official. She was definitely a slut. Not that she cared. Since she’d come home from Isabella’s a little wine buzzed, she’d been trapped in a doom and gloom mood. Thinking about her mom, about Fran, about Isabella’s problems with her ex. About Jenny. About her washed-up career as an elementary teacher.
And about someone wanting to shut her up.
Her life was a smorgasbord of pick & choose depressing topics. Each hurt in a different way.
Yet, when she thought about Mark, she felt lighter. Yes, there was the I-might-be-screwing-up vibe low in her belly. But then a wiggle of happiness caused butterflies in the same general region. She wanted more of that. More butterflies. More of him. More time not thinking about the smorgasbord.
It wasn’t just the sex. There was the teasing. The banter. The brand-new feeling he gave her. As if a better chapter of her life awaited her.
And then there was the sex.
Yup. She was buzzed but didn’t care.
Showering in record speed, she jumped out, dried off, and debated her wardrobe. She could put on something slinky, something barely there, but…No. She could put on something nice, with heels, but…no.
She found a pair of folded cutoff jeans and snagged a yellow tank top. Spotting the pink one, she traded for it.
Dashing to her dresser, she found her only sexy matching bra and panty set. In pink.
She dressed, then found her pink socks and her pink canvas tennis shoes. For one second, she debated if it was too much pink. But nope. The man liked pink.
Putting on minimum makeup and blow-drying her hair, she studied her smiling face in the mirror.
“There are worse things to be than a happy slut.”
Pirate jumped up on the counter begging for attention. He got it.
Realizing she hadn’t changed her sheets from the night before, she hurried out of the bathroom, stripped the bed, and put on her nicest sheets—Egyptian eight hundred thread count.
Before she tossed the sheets and pillowcases in the hamper, she put them to her nose. They smelled like him. Anticipation slid over her like a warm blanket.
She darted back into the bedroom, and had just finished fluffing the pillows when her doorbell rang.
Running to the door, she barely remembered to look through the peephole to confirm it was him.
It was.
She opened the door. He stood there staring and smiling and looking totally hot in worn jeans and a navy T-shirt. His hair appeared wet and a bit mussed. Then it hit what else he wore. Happiness.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she repeated his word and his smile.
“Don’t you look…damn cute.”
“Cute?” she asked. “Choose another adjective.”
“What’s wrong with cute?” He stepped inside, shut the door, and pulled her against him.
“Adorable is good.” She looked up at him. He smelled like toothpaste and something musky, spicy, probably male deodorant. She wanted to bury her face in his chest and get drunk on that scent.
He laughed. “What’s wrong with cute?”
“My mama said puppies are cute. Women are supposed to be glamorous, sexy, beautiful.”
“You’re that too.” His lips met hers and the kiss was perfection.
When he pulled away, he looked around her. “Where’s my cheesecake?”
They ate cheesecake. Talked. Laughed. Laughed a lot. The mood was playful. Everything she needed to push her problems back.
Somehow, she ended up straddling his lap and kissing him. His hands moved all over her. In her hair, under her shirt, and…between her thighs.
She became lost in his kisses, touches, the sound of her own breath. The sound of his.
When he tugged off her tank top, a smile tightened his eyes. “Pink. You wore it for me, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” she said feeling both bashful and bold.
He ran a finger over the pink satin, circling her tightened nipple beneath. She dropped her head back, letting his touch be the only thing she felt. Let it take her to the only place where she felt free of that damn smorgasbord.
The next thing she knew he had her standing and was unzipping her shorts. As the material slid down her hips, he kissed her abdomen. The butterfly touch of his lips on her skin had her knees weakening and her pulse soaring.
“And they match.”
He slipped one finger under the elastic of her panties and touched every nerve she had there. Damp heat pooled between her legs. Tugging her a little closer, he pressed another moist kiss to her stomach, then his tongue dipped into her belly button.
She flinched, never expecting it to be that sensitive.
He began easing her back on his lap, but she stopped. Reaching down, she caught the hem of his T-shirt and slipped it over his head.
The sight of his skin, his beautiful bare, muscle-ripped skin, filled her gaze. His chest, abs and arms were so damn perfect they looked photoshopped.
“Nice,” she said.
He smiled. “Choose another adjective.”
“Which one would you like?” she asked with humor.
“Irresistible would work.”
“You got it.” Then she noted, “No gun.”
“Ankle holster.”
“Oh.”
He must have heard her lack of approval. “It’s coming off.”
He removed the gun, set it on the end table, then looked up. His gaze swept over her, standing in front of him donned in nothing but her pink panties, her pink bra, and, no doubt, desire shining in her eyes.
“Wow.” He inhaled, then motioned to himself. “Anything else you want me to take off?”
“Perhaps.” She motioned to his jeans.
“You want me naked?” His tone was teasing, tempting, and totally refreshing. The man had his own special brew of seduction and wit down to an art.
Standing, he picked her up. Her legs automatically wrapped around his hips. His forehead came against hers. “I want you in bed,” he said.
The short walk to her bedroom went fast. He gently placed her on the mattress then started stripping, his shoes, his socks, his jeans, his underwear. He stood at the edge of her bed completely naked. His sex hard, erect.
She scooted the bedspread off, and when the satin of her underwear met up with Egyptian cotton she felt surrounded by softness.
But it was his hardness she wanted. Placing one knee on the bed, he curled up beside her. So drunk on his seduction, she almost forgot, but managed to whisper, “Condom.”
“Not yet. Relax. I’ve got a plan.” He swiped his tongue over his lips. If that wasn’t enough of a hint of his intent, he slipped his hand into her panties, into her damp readiness, then pulled it out and pressed it to his lips.
He kissed her, then started inching down, nipping, licking, tasting. Devouring.
Annie had never ever been so turned on.
* * *
Mark woke up when Annie crawled out of bed. His first thought was that he’d slept. Actually slept. How long had it been since…
He watched her wobble to the bathroom with a sheet wrapped around he
r. He watched the tent in the blanket covering his waist rise. Desire, even after a night of exhausting and satisfying sex, had him waking up a little more.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice morning hoarse.
Turning, she adjusted the sheet to hide her breasts. “Shower. I have to work at nine. Isabella is going to go with me to drop my car at the garage.”
“I could do it. I don’t go in until two.”
“I got it covered.”
She had lots of things covered he wished she didn’t.
“You know, I’m pretty sure there’s not an inch of you that I didn’t see or taste last night.”
Her cute look made his heart dip. “That was last night.”
“I know. Which is why I’d like to see it again.”
She rolled her eyes. “No time.”
He continued to study her, loving that she looked as free from stress as he did. “You didn’t have a dream last night, did you?”
“No. I think I was too tired to dream.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
Grinning, she turned and continued into the bathroom.
He looked down at his tent. “I tried.”
Dropping back down on the pillow, he mentally gathered his to-do list for the day. His promises he’d made Bacon rose to the surface. Then, when his mind hit on checking in with the Austin police about Fran, he remembered he hadn’t broached the subject with Annie about seeing her mom. Neither had he brought up the possibility of her talking to the police shrink.
Did he really need to do that this morning?
Another smell tickled his senses. Coffee. Annie must have her pot set on automatic. As he sat up, Pirate, lying on the end of the bed, hissed at him.
“We need to get along. And while I’m thinking about it, how do you feel about dogs?”
The cat hissed again.
“We’ll work on it.” Getting up, he found his boxers. Still sporting a stiffy, he went to collect some caffeine.
He cut the corner into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks when he and his stiffy found themselves face-to-face with Annie’s mom. Annie’s mom, who at this moment held his gun.
“Drop that!”
“Oh.” She gasped.
“Shit,” he muttered.
She set the gun down. He picked it up. She swung around as if his near nakedness bothered her, and he raced back into Annie’s bedroom. Shutting the door, he went into the bathroom and set his gun on the counter.
“Annie?”
“Oh,” she yelped, sounding just like her mom. The shower curtain shifted, and she looked out. “You scared me.”
Your mom scared me. “Your mom’s here.”
“Here? Now?” Her eyes rounded.
“Yeah? I smelled coffee and…she’s in the kitchen.”
“You didn’t tell her who you were, did you?”
The odd question sparked a nerve. “No. But she knows.”
“How?”
“I met her yesterday in Pearlsville. I went there to interview Fran’s mother.”
Annie stood frozen, water running down her face, eyes still rounded. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I was going to, but…it didn’t come up.”
“Shit,” she muttered.
“I said the same thing.”
A door slammed. “I think she left.” He ran a palm over his face. How messy was this going to become? The little impropriety of dating a witness just got a whole lot bigger.
Annie snatched a robe hanging beside the shower. She tied it around her waist, knotted it twice, then picked up her phone. “Should I text her?” She looked at him as if for advice.
He had nothing.
She hugged herself and frowned. “What did my mom tell you yesterday?”
He hesitated. “Sheriff Harper discovered Fran’s car in her mother’s garage. Her mother said Fran left in the car. When asked, your mother said your uncle drove Fran back.”
“So Fran’s okay?”
“She’s still missing.”
Annie stood there as if trying to soak it all in. “So my mom told the truth. She’s not involved?” She looked relieved.
He didn’t answer.
“What?” she asked, as if seeing everything he wasn’t saying in his expression.
He ran a hand over his face. “She was up front about Fran, but when asked about Jenny, she was evasive. Then your aunt asked for a lawyer. Your mother did the same.”
Annie pulled tighter at her robe’s sash. “And that makes her guilty?”
“I’m not saying…It doesn’t look good.”
“You don’t know her. She’d never—”
His frustration shot up. “You even told me you felt she was lying.”
“She wouldn’t hurt a kid.”
Mark’s frustration continued to peak. “Her finding me here isn’t good.”
Annie’s small frame tightened. “I asked you if that was going to be a problem. You said no.”
“It’s one thing to date a witness, but another if that witness is the daughter of a suspect.”
“You’re saying my mom is a suspect?”
Fuck. He was saying the wrong thing, but he couldn’t stop. “How did she get in here?”
“She has a key.”
He shook his head. “Why?”
Annie took a step back and tightened the robe’s sash. “I need to call my mom. You…you should go.”
* * *
He screwed up. Blaming Annie was wrong. He came to that conclusion halfway home.
He pulled over and called her.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
It went to voice mail.
“I’m sorry. I was wrong. I…I was caught off guard. Call me?”
He started to go back, but decided to let his apology settle in, then he’d call her later with a second.
Did trying not to worry about being an ass make him more of an ass? Fuck! He didn’t know. At home, he got dressed in running clothes, and took off. While he drove to the park, he called Austin PD. The cop in charge of the case wasn’t there. Mark left a message. After he arrived at the park, he and Bacon jogged three miles.
As he was running, his phone dinged with a text. Annie?
He stopped, breathing hard, and got his phone. Not her.
Mildred’s name flashed across the screen. I’m ordering prime rib!
She’d found the old Reed file.
He didn’t need to be at work until two. But the precinct was on the way home. His mind made up, he called off Bacon’s sniffing adventure and they took off.
When he got out of his car at the precinct, he remembered Bacon. “Come on, it’s too hot to leave you here.”
Bacon jumped out. They made their way in, Bacon’s tail wagging, Mark’s mood much darker. Mildred looked up from her desk and smiled. “Is it bring-your-dog-to-work day?”
“Where’s the file?”
She studied him. “Nice legs.”
“Where’s the file?”
She pulled it out of the drawer and handed it over. “Keep frowning like that and you’re gonna get another headache.”
He inhaled. “Tough morning. Anything we can use in there?”
“Not sure. It’s sad, though.”
“Yeah,” he said, realizing Annie’s case was getting to the ugly stage. Where it became more than just about a crime, it became about a victim. About another child. Another one he couldn’t save.
His phone rang. Annie? He pulled it out and checked the number. He frowned.
“Hey,” Mark answered.
“Where are you?” Juan asked.
“At the precinct, picking up the Reed file Mildred found. Why?”
“Come to the office. I just discovered something in Gomez’s file about the Talbot case. You’re gonna want to hear this.”
“Coming.” He handed Mildred back the case file. “Make two more copies of this, one for Juan and one for Connor? I’ll pick mine up on the way out.”
>
Chapter Eighteen
Mark and Bacon walked into the small room that housed the Cold Case Unit.
“Bacon,” Connor said.
His dog bolted to collect some attention.
Juan chuckled. The good mood of his two partners reminded Mark of his bad one. “I’d give a hundred bucks if Sergeant Brown could walk in right now.”
“He wouldn’t care,” Connor said. “Remember Mark here has the old man by the balls. He just won’t tell us why.”
Mark dropped into his chair and swung around. “We were at the dog park when Mildred texted that she found the file. What you got?” He looked at Juan.
Bacon left Connor and ran to Juan. “Remember I told you that Stone said the concrete in the barrel appeared to be high-grade stuff? That he was testing it to confirm it?”
“Yeah.” The information took Mark into a dark place where he had to think about what else was in that barrel. But holy hell, he hated that dark place.
“The test came back. It’s definitely high grade. Used in construction and stuff. And guess who worked at Colman Concrete Company who does mostly construction jobs that use high-grade concrete?”
“Who?” Mark asked.
“Brian Talbot.”
Bam! Mark felt sucker punched. He’d already crossed Talbot off as a suspect. How could his gut be so damn wrong? Even after what Mark’s stepfather did to his own sister, he didn’t want to believe a father could do that. When the fuck am I going to learn to never think the best? “You sure?”
“That’s in Gomez’s file. I haven’t confirmed it. Yet.”
“Shit,” Mark said. “Confirm it. I’m bringing that son of a bitch in for another interview.” He stood there, his neck muscles tightening, clenching his fists. “Do we have a picture of that asshole?”
“There’s one in the paper file,” Connor said.
“Cash is due here at two to be interviewed. Let’s do a photo lineup. He swore he could recognize the man he saw push the barrel into the lake.”
“Done,” Connor said.
Feeling duped, and wanting to put that monster behind bars, Mark stood up. “I’ll see you later.”
“While you’re here, why don’t you give us the lowdown on the other case?” Juan said.
“Mildred’s making copies of the file now. I’ll tell her to bring them to you. After Johnny leaves, we can discuss it.” Mark got almost to the door. Bacon followed.
Don't Close Your Eyes Page 17
