Fatal Games (The Rockford Security Series Book 2)

by Jones, Lee Anne

  By the time he knelt between her thighs and pressed them wider, she felt like she’d die if she didn’t get some relief soon. As if reading her thoughts, Mike lowered himself between her legs and swiped his tongue over her wetness from top to bottom, then lingered against her swollen clitoris, sucking gently as he brought his fingers into play as well, sliding first one then two fingers inside her, stretching her, preparing her body for his.

  Laura clutched at his hair, his shoulders, doing her best to savor every delicious sensation his talented mouth and tongue evoked. He added a third finger, and the pressure inside her reached a crescendo. She was close, so damned close.

  One more stroke, one more thrust, one more…

  She bucked hard against him and pulled him closer. “Don’t stop, please. Please.”

  “Never, Princess. Never.” He continued his ministrations, coaxing through the waves of her first strong climax then bringing her down slowly back to earth. At last, he kissed his way back up her body before reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out a condom.

  “Let me.” She took it from him and ripped the little packet open with her teeth, then took him in hand again. He braced above her, a tiny muscle quivering near his tense jaw as she rubbed her thumb over his sensitive crown, catching the drop of moisture beaded at his tip and bringing it to her lips for a taste before smoothing the sheath over his length. She didn’t let go of him, though. Instead, she kept stroking, from root to tip, knowing she was torturing them both but unable to stop touching his velvet hardness. “Feel good?”

  “Fuck yes.” He reached down and clamped his hand over hers. “But if you want me to last more than a few seconds, you better stop now. Sorry, Princess, but I want you too bad.”

  Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand and grasped his forearms as he positioned himself at her wet entrance. His voice shook with barely contained want. “Ready?”

  “Fuck yes,” she said, echoing his response.

  With a grin, he entered her with one long thrust then settled atop her, unmoving. His hot, minty breath ghosted across her cheek. “That’s my dirty little princess.”

  “Mmm.” She arched beneath him, lifting her legs to lock her feet behind his lower back, drawing him deeper inside her. This. This was what she’d needed, what she’d wanted, what she’d craved since the first moment she’d seen him down in the lobby. He felt so good, so hard, so perfect within her. At last, Mike started to move, withdrawing almost to his tip before plunging inside her once more. “Yes.”

  After a few moments, he slipped an arm beneath her and tilted her hips even more, changing his angle of penetration so that he brushed against a certain spot a few inches inside her with each stroke. Jolts of intense pleasure radiated outward, and pressure coiled tighter deep in her hips and inner thighs. Wouldn’t be long now.

  He nipped at her jaw, the pulse point at the base of her neck, before dipping his head and taking one of her nipples between his lips again, drawing it into the heat of his mouth. She held him close and dug her nails into his scalp. He shivered and chuckled. “Keep that up, Princess, and this will all be over too soon.”

  She did it again, and he panted.

  “Christ, Princess. I can’t hold out much longer…”

  “Yes. Please.” She met him thrust for thrust, moving with the furious rhythm he’d set. “Oh, God. Yes.”

  “Are you close, Princess?”

  She bit her lip and nodded, her breath hitched.

  Mike reached between them to rub her swollen clitoris again, and that was all it took. Laura’s whole body tensed, and her head fell back against the mattress as she came hard around him, her inner walls fluttering.

  “Shit. Ah, fuck.” He thrust into her hard, once, twice, then arched against her, his body straining as he rode out his own climax. She felt him pulse within her as he came, the feeling more intense than anything she’d ever experienced.

  Finally, he collapsed atop her, their bodies still intimately joined, his head resting in the valley between her breasts. Laura stroked his hair and held Mike close. She’d not been lying earlier. If he only wanted one night, then she wouldn’t push for more, no matter what she really wanted.

  “You were amazing, Princess,” he said, raising his head slowly to gaze into her eyes. He kissed her gently then rolled off of her and disposed of the condom before pulling her back against him and spooning her into his warmth. “Thank you.”

  Sated and sleepy, she snuggled closer. “For what?”

  He kissed her nape. “For not being all talk and no play.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Soon his breathing evened out into the patterns of sleep.

  Laura stayed awake longer, stroking his arm clamped around her waist, just staring out those big old windows at the expanse of dark desert in the distance and for once feeling at peace, fulfilled, satisfied.

  At some point, though, she must’ve drifted off too, because the next time she opened her eyes it was light outside and the bed beside her was empty.

  She rubbed her eyes and sat up, glancing at the clock. Ten a.m.

  Shit.

  Her interview was at noon.

  The sound of the shower drifted in from her left, and she figured that’s where Mike had gone. Pulling the sheet tighter around her, she got up and went in search of her clothes. Found her jeans and panties wadded up near the end of the bed then ventured out to the living room for her shirt and bra. She’d just made it back to the bedroom when Mike exited the bathroom, wearing a wet towel slung low around his hips and nothing else.

  “Morning, Princess.” He kissed her deeply then walked over to his dresser. “You might want to get dressed. Ted’s due over here any second to work. You probably have time for a quick shower, though, if you want.”

  “Oh.” She frowned. “Right. No. It’s fine. I need to get home anyway. I’ve got my interview in a few hours.”

  “Granny gamer?” He chuckled.

  “Yeah.” Laura took a seat on the edge of the bed to pull on her panties and jeans, then stood to slip into her bra and shirt. At least things weren’t awkward as ass between them this morning. One-nighters weren’t her usual thing, but with Mike she couldn’t resist.

  From the other room, the elevator dinged. Now, she just needed to find her shoes and she’d be all set.

  “I’m here,” Ted called from the living room.

  “Great.” Mike yelled back to him then winked at Laura. He pulled open another drawer and yanked a fresh black T-shirt out of it. Before he closed it, she noticed a pile of disposable cell phones stuffed in one half of the space.

  That was odd. Same brand as the one she’d seen in Troy’s photo last week, too.

  Then again, it was a popular brand. Millions of people probably used them.

  Brushing off a slight niggle of concern, she searched the room for her socks and shoes then headed out into the living room again. Ted looked up from the open kitchen and caught her eyes, his expression surprised.

  “Uh, hey,” he said.

  “Hey.” Bingo. Shoes and socks located. She sat in the armchair to pull them on then gathered her bag and jacket as Mike walked into the room—shirt untucked, feet bare. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to drag him back to bed. “Well, I need to get going.”

  “Talk to you later?” Mike escorted her out to the elevators.

  “Sure. You’ve got my number, right?”

  “Always.” He pressed the button then pulled her into his arms. “Last night really was amazing.”

  “Yeah, it kind of was, wasn’t it?”

  The elevator dinged and the door slid open, and he kissed her hard and fast. “Now go. Or else you won’t be going anywhere for a long time, Princess.”

  She gave him a little wave then slumped against the back wall of the elevator as the doors slid closed. He waved back, one of those stupid burner phones clutched in his hand.

  Nothing. The phone was nothing, she repeated to herself all the way back to h
er car. Didn’t matter that her instincts were rioting inside her.

  Felicia was in police custody and Mike was innocent. Case closed.

  No matter if her stupid reporter’s gut told her something was still amiss.

  Fourteen

  Two days later, an irritating buzz woke Laura in the middle of the night. Okay, it was closer to seven in the morning, but still. This was the first time she’d slept in her own bed since the big night with Mike, and she was catching up on lost snooze.

  She fumbled for her cell phone and answered it without checking the caller ID, her hair ratted and hanging in front of her face. “Hello?”

  “I know you’ll find out anyway and be a huge pain in my ass, so I figured I’d save us both the time and tell you. There’s been a third victim.”

  Laura blew the hair out of her face and sat up. “Troy?”

  “No. Killers R Us.” His smartass response was followed up with a snort. “Who else would it be?”

  “So there’s another one?” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Where are they?”

  “The Las Vegas Police Station.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. Someone staged a murder at the police station?”

  “No.” Troy sighed. “You haven’t had your coffee yet, have you?”

  “I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

  “Nice.” She could hear the smile in his tone. “This one’s still alive.”

  “Alive?” Laura straightened, her eyes wide, fully alert now. “That means you can question them and I can get an interview.”

  “Whoa there, cowgirl. One step at a time. Why don’t you get up, get dressed, and get your cute butt down here first, then we’ll see. And bring coffee with you. It’s been a long night. Oh, and for the love of all things holy, brush your teeth.”

  She ignored his snide remarks and ended the call. After rushing through a quick shower and yes, brushing her teeth, she threw on a clean pair of jeans and a sweater, called the office to let them know she’d be in later than usual due to a lead, then hustled to the café then the police station.

  Upon her arrival, Troy checked his watch then grabbed his drink from the tray. “One hour. I’m impressed, Rockford.”

  “Your approval is what I live for.” Laura gave him a simpering fake smile then cocked her chin toward his blackened left eye. “Make another new friend?”

  “Haha. No. Arresting a perp. My face happened to get in the way of his fist.”

  Laura winced. It did look painful, all puffy and fifty shades of purple, red and yellowish green. Somehow, though, it only made him better looking, sort of rakish and rumpled. Too bad her affections were firmly fixed elsewhere these days. Troy Atkins would make some lucky woman quite happy someday. “So, tell me about this new victim.”

  Troy raised the hand holding his coffee and pointed with his index finger through a blind-covered window across from them. “His name’s Steven Price. Thirty-eight.”

  “Huh.” She moved closer to peer in at the guy. He sat in one of the smaller interrogation rooms, huddled beneath a blanket. Even though his shoulders were hunched, he looked like a linebacker—big and broad. His dark hair was slicked back in a similar hairstyle to that of the last victim at the Mob Museum and topped with a vintage fedora. She couldn’t see the rest of his attire because of the blanket, but she’d bet his clothes were 1940s style, too. “Was he hurt?”

  “Drugged, but otherwise unharmed. He’s still a bit groggy, but the paramedics said whatever the attacker gave him should wear off completely in another hour or so. We questioned him already, but didn't get much.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  Troy took another long swig of coffee, watching her over the rim. Finally, he set his empty cup aside and stretched. “You know what? I’m feeling a little groggy myself. Think I’ll take a stroll around the block to clear my head.” He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, turning toward her one last time. “So far Price hasn’t declined questioning, but if he shows any resistance, please respect his decision.”

  “Got it. I won’t push.” She bit her lower lip. “Thanks, Troy.”

  He watched the tiny movement and frowned, his expression hovering between want and disappointment. “Yeah. You got thirty minutes, Rockford.”

  Once he left, Laura slipped into the interrogation room and closed the door behind her. She set the third coffee she’d picked up on the table in front of Price. He stared at it but didn’t touch it.

  She smiled and took a seat beside him, setting her messenger bag aside, then reaching into her pocket. “It’s better than the sludge they have here. And there’s some cream and sugar, if you take it.”

  Steven wrapped his beefy fingers around the cardboard cup. He didn’t drink it, though he pulled it closer. His movements were slightly shaky. From the drugs or fear, she wasn’t sure.

  “Are you the sketch artist?” he asked. His rough voice sounded surprisingly small in the quiet room. “I told Detective Atkins I don’t remember much about the attack. When I came to, everything was sort of blurry. Then I popped the guy in the nose and got the hell out of there.”

  Laura’s ears perked. “A man? Are you sure the attacker was male?”

  Steven nodded and gave a short laugh. “Yeah. He might’ve screamed like a girl when I punched him, but he was a guy.”

  “Did you see his face?” She pulled out her trusty notebook and a pen, grinning. “Before you punched him, of course. Good job, there.”

  “Thanks.” He toyed with the cup in his hands, turning it one way then the other, still unopened. “And no. I didn’t see his face.”

  “What about other physical characteristics? Was he tall? Short? Fat? Thin?”

  “On the thin side, I guess. A little shorter than me. It was hard to tell since I was either running away or on the ground.”

  “Where were you when you woke up?”

  “Outside the Las Vegas Academy.”

  “Great.” She scribbled her notes down. “And have you seen anybody following you lately? Anyone suspicious hanging around?”

  “No.” He scrunched his nose. “What does that have to do with you making a sketch?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just trying to get some background to help set the scene.”

  “Listen, lady.” He took off the fedora with a trembling hand, then stared at it like he hadn’t been aware it was on his head. With a look of disgust, he tossed it aside. “I already told Detective Atkins this stuff. Can’t you just ask him so I don’t have to relive it all again?”

  “Yeah, sure. Absolutely.” She closed her notebook and pushed to her feet, snagging her messenger bag on the way to the door. “Thanks so much for your time, Mr. Price. Enjoy your coffee.”

  He grunted in response, his focus steadfast on the table.

  Back in the hallway, Laura went in search of Troy and found him in his cubicle once more. She plopped down in the chair in front of his desk. “The perp’s a man.”

  “Yep. That’s what Price told me, too.” He sighed and shook his head. “Damn. I really thought we had this one in the bag. But Felicia’s been in our custody since yesterday, so we know she didn’t do it.”

  “Maybe she did.” She toyed with the end of her still-damp ponytail, eyes narrowed. “What if she has a partner?”

  “Right. A partner like Mike McQuade.”

  “What?” Laura straightened, affronted on Mike’s behalf. “No. He didn’t do it.”

  “Really? How do you know?” He scowled and stared at her. She blushed and looked away. “That’s quite a one eighty, Rockford. The other day you were ready to have me arrest him. What’s the story there?”

  “Nothing.” Images of her and Mike together, him moving over her, moving within her, making her come over and over and over again… Warm and aroused, she shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, her cheeks prickling with heat. “I’ve just talked to the guy a couple of times since then, and I don’t think it’s him.”

  “Because of your special re
porter ‘Spidey senses,’ huh?” He gave her an irritated look. “Well, that guy’s bad news, and I’d suggest you stay away from him.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause you’re so unbiased where I’m concerned.” Laura crossed her arms. “Bad news how?”

  “Bad news as in some…questionable things in his background.”

  “Questionable?”

  He crooked a finger, inviting her over to his side of the desk. Once she moved in behind him, Troy clicked a few keys on his computer and brought up a video feed. “I shouldn’t be showing you this, but…”

  “Hey.” Laura leaned closer. “That’s footage from the foyer of Mike’s penthouse, isn’t it? How’d you get it?” Her brain raced through all the moments she and Mike had spent in that foyer, seeking any embarrassing erotic behavior. The worst she could remember were a few heated kisses, thank goodness. The last thing she needed right now was the whole LVPD watching her and Mike’s X-rated activities for shits and giggles. “Are you spying on him?”

  “No. All legally obtained. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

  “Didn’t know what?”

  “Blake’s company does all the security for McQuade. All I had to do was send a subpoena, and he turned it over to me.”

  Well, shit. At least that explained her oldest brother’s odd look at her during the board meeting. She gave Troy some serious side eye then pointed at the screen again. “Isn’t that the widow? Barbara Newton?”

  “Yep.” He tapped another key to play the video. “Watch this.”

  Barbara and Mike were in front of the elevator. Barbara appeared flustered, her hands flying about wildly as she said, “I think there’s someone following me. I keep seeing the same figure—at work, at my house. My kids have seen him, too.”

  The camera was behind Mike, so she couldn’t see his face, but he had his usual distracted tone, the one that drove Laura crazy. “Calm down,” he said to Barbara, taking her arms. “Who do you think it might be?”

  “I don’t know.” Barbara stared at the center of Mike’s chest, her pretty face etched with sorrow. “Jim’s death was an accident, right?”