by Milly Taiden
“Why? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing’s wrong with her. She gets a little sensitive around murder scenes.”
“Sensitive?” His temper snapped. “I just saw her freak out. She looked like someone was stabbing her to death.” He roared. “You call that sensitive? Wanna tell me what’s really going on, Sir?”
Brock sighed, a low, tired sound. “Villa is fine. If at any point she can’t do the job I will personally see to her. Until then, do as you’re told. Keep me informed of any developments.”
The phone went dead. Fuck! Trent slid out of the Jeep intending to question Erica, but the sound of Ramirez’s footsteps on the gravel path became louder.
Ramirez held a black book in his grasp. He dropped it in the back seat. The book bounced once before settling on the cushion. “I got the victim’s journal. If anything can give us a clue about her life, this would be it.” With a lift of his chin, he motioned toward Erica. “I could scent her fear as you passed me by. Is she all right?”
Trent wished he knew. All he smelled coming off her was panic and fear. He didn’t like either. In fact, his animal was all but going crazy to come out and see to her safety. “I don’t know.”
“You know I would never interfere between you two, I know what she means to you, but I’m here if you need help with whatever’s going on with her.”
“Thanks, man. I know I can count on you.”
While they watched her, Erica turned, slowly making her way back to the Jeep.
“You all right, Villa?” Ramirez grinned. “Dead people’s rooms freak you out too, huh?”
Trent glowered and watched Erica’s lips quirk in a smile.
“You have no idea, Ramirez. Let’s go to the hotel. I’m exhausted.” She sat in the back, leaned her head into the headrest and closed her eyes, effectively shutting them out.
By the time they reached the small hotel, Trent was ready to strangle someone. They stopped at the diner on the other side of the motel before finally making their way to their rooms.
On a normal day he’d love a burger, a beer, and a little relaxation in his room. But after the afternoon’s events, food was the last thing on his mind. Their rooms were adjacent to each other, which made it easier to meet up in the morning or work until late. Ramirez and Erica, room keys in hand, walked ahead of him to their doors. Trent was still fuming, not knowing what to make of what had happened to Erica.
“Well, I’m calling it an early night. I’m tired and need some sleep. I’ll see you both in the morning. Good night, guys.” Erica shut her door before anyone got a chance to reply.
Trent let himself into his room, paced, took a shower, and paced some more. He turned on the television, but all his mind saw was Erica, gripping the comforter in the victim’s bedroom, choking on tears, and begging in fear. It made no sense. Just remembering made his jaw clench. Mindlessly, he flicked through channels, nothing catching his attention. The sound of the shower running in Erica’s room held him entranced. After a while, when he didn’t hear the water any longer, he figured she’d finished and decided it was time to question her.
He threw on some shorts and knocked at her door. She seemed unsurprised to see him.
“I’m really tired, Trent. What do you want?”
Something was definitely wrong when she didn’t call him by his last name. She’d always made it a point to keep that barrier between them, stopping them from getting too personal. Good. Maybe now they could get to know each other better. And while it would take some work, he hoped he could soon—finally—have his mate by his side all the time. He strode in, stopped in the middle of the room, and turned to her.
She shut the door. Exhaustion was evident in her face, and the lingering scent of fear wafted up to his nose. Guilt nagged him to let her rest, but the questions running through his mind didn’t leave him alone.
“What happened today? And don’t give me any bullshit, Erica. I want to know why you reacted the way you did in that bedroom. I need to know what was happening to you. So come clean. What’s wrong?” He hoped she’d open up and tell him the truth, whatever that was.
She leaned into the closed door and folded her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts to the neckline of her low-cut tank top. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Anger simmered inside him and spread through his veins, until he was ready to shake her. He knew what he’d seen. Even if he couldn’t smell her lies, he’d know she was keeping things from him. He’d seen sheer horror in her eyes. He’d also seen a scared woman, a woman begging for help, a woman traumatized by something. What bothered him the most was that he knew that wasn’t the first time she’d suffered that way.
“Stop lying to me. I was there, I saw you freak out holding that bedspread. You were shaking, begging, as if someone was tearing you limb from limb.” He stalked toward her. She flinched. And he was tempted, more than tempted, to drop the questions, but he had to know what was going on. How could he help make the situation better for her?
As he got closer, her stance turn rigid, her jaw clenched, and her lips pursed. “I don’t know what to tell you.” She shrugged and looked down. “I freaked out a little, and that’s it. I don’t even remember most of it now.”
Her arms unwound and lowered to her sides, hands curling into fists. She raised her face, one brow arched high. She was still defensive, and he needed to know why.
“Why are you lying? Just tell me what’s wrong. Stop acting as if what I saw today was no big deal.” He softened his tone to a plea. Shifting closer to her, he lifted his arms, placing them on either side of her head, palms flat on the door, caging her in. “I want to help you. Let me.”
Erica glanced up into eyes the color of dark chocolate and wondered what the hell else she could do. Trent was like a dog with a bone about her episode in Lisa Summers’s apartment. She had a feeling that no matter how much she tried to dismiss him, he wasn’t going to go for it. It was difficult enough for her. She still had to get her mind back in order, but all she kept hearing was the dead girl’s screams inside her head. Trying to get her nerves back under control was an exercise in restraint and aggravation. She needed some sort of distraction or she’d lose her mind. The grief inside the victim had been much stronger than anyone she’d ever come across.
Anger and frustration bubbled over inside her. The pain Lisa had suffered made her lash out at Trent. “You want to help me?” A bitter laugh, brimming with her aggravation, escaped. “You can’t help me.” She ducked under his arms and started to dart away from him, toward the bed. “No one can help me. Nothing can help me. Just go.”
Loud steps sounded behind her. She should have known that he wouldn’t leave. He grabbed her left upper arm. After a quick tug she found herself facing him, their bodies flush against each other. She tilted her head back to look into his eyes, and her breath caught at the tenderness she saw there. He cupped her face in his hands, the warmth of his palms suddenly spiking a flame in her veins. The indecision and concern in his eyes made her heartbeat double in her chest.
“I can’t.”
Her mind lost track of the conversation. She focused only on his lips, the sexy scar she wanted to kiss, and how much deeper his voice sounded. “Can’t what?”
“I can’t just go.” He trailed a thumb over her cheek. The action not only held her in a trance but woke every pleasure cell inside her.
His intent was clear. In a movement so fast she didn’t get a chance to blink, his lips were on hers. An instant fire burst in her veins and rushed through her body, pooling at her groin. Her hands crawled up his naked torso, tracing muscles, memorizing every delicious inch of hot flesh. She whimpered in the back of her throat and opened her lips to his invasion. Possession, domination, and desperation were all the things his expert tongue brought to the surface.
The hands cupping her face moved down, trailing her bare arms, around her back, until he was groping her ass over her pajama shorts. He gripped her cheeks an
d ground his cock into her belly. The steel length of his shaft sent moisture straight to her pussy. Her hands raked his shoulders, up his neck, and fisted the short strands of his hair.
Neither of them wanted to stop their fervent kiss for air. She would gladly die of oxygen deprivation if it meant staying exactly as they were. The heat from their bodies mingled to create a cocoon of blazing need. Every swipe of his tongue in her mouth increased the burning inside her, making her blood boil and her pussy drench with arousal.
A distant ringing broke through their cloud of desire. It was then she realized she didn’t want him to go anywhere. She craved for him to stay, to kiss her, to give her enough passion to override the pain she still had lingering in her mind. They broke apart as if torn from each other by invisible hands. She wanted to keep holding on to him, but she pried her fingers open and stepped away. His gaze burned her flesh, trailing down her body.
Both panted like a pair of teens after their first make-out session. She watched him clench his jaw and lick his lips, rubbing that sexy tongue over his scar. Tight, feral hunger turned his face into a mask of need. His nostrils flared, and storminess filled his eyes, turning them glowing brown. The way he devoured her with his gaze made her panties even wetter and her nipples tighten into pebbled buds under her tank top. That look! Dios. So possessive, hungry, and wicked, it made her consider running back into his arms and asking him, no begging him, to help her forget.
It pained her, but she turned away from him and headed toward the bed. The cell phone rang again, louder, almost trying to tell her that whatever was going on wouldn’t go away. She sat down and stared at the screen. Brock. Trent stood there, watching her. She pressed the button to return Brock’s call, put the phone on speaker, and noticed Trent take steps to close their distance.
“Erica?” Brock sounded concerned.
She knew he was wondering how she was handling what she’d seen. They couldn’t discuss that now. Trent was in the room with her and she didn’t want him to know.
“And Buchanan.” Trent added, before she had a chance to say the words herself.
“Good. I won’t have to make two calls.” Brock sighed.
Trent sat down on the foot of the bed. The movement made her lean into his side. Her entire body screamed with longing wanting his hands on her and her hands on him. Oh how she wished they could go back to where they had been moments before.
She cleared her throat, attempting to calm the ragged racing of her heartbeat in her chest. “What’s going on?”
“We found a new victim.”
Fear slashed through her body. Sweat gathered in her palms, and the room spun momentarily. God, she was going to be sick.
“Who is it?” Trent asked, still watching her.
“The girl that went missing before Lisa Summers has been found. Gina Torres. Freshman. Same school. Looks physically different than Summers.”
“What are the circumstances of her death?” She finally found her voice, although it was hard to get the words out from under the iceberg chilling and numbing her throat.
“I’ve sent the pictures we have to your secure emails along with the file.” The sound of paper shuffling filled the line.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Trent got his words in ahead of her. “How was she found?”
Brock’s somber tone was the only noise inside the small motel room. “We got a tip. Like I told you both before you left, I had a feeling Summers was not victim number one. If I’m correct, it was probably Gina. Someone called it in to 911. She was left in a public place. The placement of the body mimicked that of Summers. Open arms and legs, displaying the scars and bruises, completely naked.”
“You mean she was being shown off just like Lisa?” Erica replayed the crime scene shots in her head. Her mind whirled with questions and visions of Lisa Summers. “Do we know yet if they had anyone in common?”
“Too soon to tell. We just got the call about an hour ago. You both know what to do. You can go see the body in the morning. For now just get some rest.”
Erica removed the phone from speaker and placed it by her ear, knowing Brock have some other personal questions. Questions she didn’t want Trent listening in on.
“Are you okay?”
Brock had always been that way with her. Since she had met him on her first day in the academy, he’d taken her under his wing. She’d been scared, but he’d introduced himself and had never been far way, helping her cope with the new environment. He taught her she could count on him, even if it had taken her years to realize how honest he was, how much of a friend he was. She’d always wanted to be part of the bureau, but being in Brock’s team was better than any job she could have imagined.
“Calmate. I’m fine, Brock. I’m a big girl you know.” She grinned, knowing he always got a kick out of her saying that. “I can take care of myself. Now stop worrying so much, it’s not good for your health.”
She didn’t look at Trent but knew he was listening to her side of the conversation.
Brock sighed. “Don’t overdo things, please. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”
She shut the phone, sprung to her feet, and made a beeline for the door. Once there, she removed all traces of emotion from her face, which was incredibly hard, and turned to Trent. “I’m tired. We’re up early tomorrow to see Torres’s body, I need to sleep. Thank you for coming to see me, but as you can see—” She swung the door open, holding the handle in a death grip. “I’m fine. Good night.”
Trent took his sweet time standing up and strolling toward her. Each move made his muscles ripple, his body calling, inviting her to feel his strength again. He stopped right at the entrance, their bodies just inches from each other, and said nothing until she glanced up at him. Her body tensed, waiting—no, hoping—that he’d make a move. He dipped his head until they were breathing each other’s air, until her body temperature skyrocketed.
“This isn’t the end of us.”
His vision strayed to her lips. She held her breath, already picturing him kissing her and saying to hell with her words.
“This is only the beginning.”
He walked out at the same leisurely pace.
It took her a moment to realize she was standing there like an idiot.
“There is no us!” She threw the door. Estupido! Men always had to make things difficult by causing havoc with a woman’s emotions and body.
All her hormones were still racing through her, flushing her with desire from the kisses and touches he’d given her. Every pleasure cell had liquefied and traveled down to her shorts. She jumped on the bed, punched a fist into a pillow, and growled. How the hell was she supposed to get any sleep like this? And she hadn’t even packed her vibrator. Dammit.
After another cold shower and some manual stimulation, she turned up the pathetic air conditioning until there was a decent breeze. Then she finally fell into a fitful and uncomfortable sleep.
Chapter Three
The next morning dawned bright, hot, and humid. She sat in the backseat and prayed for a break in the case as they headed to the morgue. Sipping on her iced coffee, she glanced out the window. Her mind replayed everything she knew about the victim while she scanned the passing trees, small businesses, and dense forest. It was easy to ignore both men in the front, talking sports and general things she had no interest in. She yawned.
“What’s wrong, Villa? Man, you look like shit!” Ramirez said from the driver’s seat. The laughter in his voice only added to her misery. Great, now they were going to turn her into the butt of their jokes.
Not bothering to reply, she lifted her hand and extended her middle finger. She was too tired to tell him to fuck off. A loud smack drew her attention.
“What the hell was that for?” Ramirez complained, rubbing a hand over the back of his head, a deep frown creasing his forehead.
“She does not look like shit.” Trent growled, turned toward her, and winked. “She looks like Sleeping Beauty.”
“
Yeah, um, I don’t remember Sleeping Beauty looking like she got run over by the prince in the story.”
Slap. Her lips quirked, and a smile broke free. She knew what Trent was doing, and she appreciated him for it. Fatigue beat at her muscles. However, she was so horny that if Trent let her hump his leg, she’d find the energy from somewhere.
“What the hell? You know I’m the one driving. Cut it out. I’m sorry, Villa. You know I still think you’re hot.”
Slap. Erica swallowed the laughter threatening to choke her.
“Now what?” Ramirez protested. “I said she looks hot!”
“I know. That’s why I hit you.” Trent sounded annoyed.
“Oh man, you’re in deep shit, bro. Seriously, I know you like her and all, but are you blind? Poor Villa might be hot but she looks like she hasn’t slept in a week.” He grinned at her through the mirror.
“Boys, if you make me pull out the ruler someone is getting spanked.”
“Me!” both men yelled at the same time.
She rolled her eyes and smiled. Her lids dropped closed, and she let the two men’s complaints over who should get spanked lull her to sleep.
The sound of harsh breathing filled her ears. Darkness was thick around her, driving her fear, curling around her gut and settling in with a heavy knot. Someone screamed. The sound so painful, so filled with agony and anguish, that tears filled her eyes. She raised her fists and beat at the wooden wall in front of her.
“Let me out!” Lisa Summers screamed. “Please!”
“Erica!” Trent’s voice seeped into her subconscious, pulling her from the dreaded darkness of her dream. Something shook her, hard. She blinked her eyes open and saw Trent’s worried brown eyes. “You’re fine, sweetheart.”
He pulled her out of the Jeep and into his arms.
What the hell just happened? “I know I’m fine. What’s wrong with you?”
He glanced down at her with a frown. “You were screaming to be let out.”
