Fatal Games (The Rockford Security Series Book 2)

by Jones, Lee Anne

  “Of course it was.” Mike rubbed the widow’s arms affectionately, and Laura couldn’t suppress a niggle of jealousy. Troubled, she clenched the back of Troy’s chair tighter. This was stupid. Ridiculous. She was jealous of a dead woman. Still, she couldn’t keep the thoughts of her meeting with Barbara’s kids out of her head. Had Mike and Barbara been lovers? The way he touched her on the video suggested a familiarity beyond platonic, but…

  Shaking off her doubts, she concentrated on the footage again. If she had questions, she’d just ask him later. After all, they were sleeping together now. That afforded her some privileges where his past was concerned.

  Onscreen, Barbara continued questioning Mike, her panic evident in her voice. “But what if it wasn’t? What if someone killed my Jim and now they’re coming for me?”

  Before Mike answered, another figure appeared in the frame: Ted, his posture hunched and his eyes twitchy. Mike looked irritated at the interruption, startled almost. Maybe he didn’t want any witnesses to his conversation with Barbara?

  Ted stood to the side of Mike and Barbara, pointing off screen to what Laura knew was the living room. “I, uh, finished that, uh, coding, boss. If you, uh, want to take a look…”

  Mike gave the guy a dismissive nod then waited for him to leave before turning his attention back to Barbara. “Listen, I know the anniversary of Jim’s death is coming up. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you and the kids, and I’m sorry you have to go through that, but I really think you’re letting your imagination get the better of you.” He wrapped his arm around Barbara’s shoulders and pressed the button for the elevator. From his now visible expression—flat, slightly annoyed—Laura would almost think he was blowing the widow’s concerns off. But why would he do that to someone he obviously cared about?

  It made no sense.

  The elevator doors slid open, and he helped Barbara in, his polite smile the polar opposite of his tense tone. “Promise me you’ll find a way to relax. No one will hurt you. I promise.”

  Troy hit another key on his keyboard, and the computer screen went black as he swiveled his chair to face her. “I rest my case.”

  Laura scoffed. “That video doesn’t prove anything.”

  “Hmm.” Troy leaned back and clasped his hands over his flat stomach. “Proves you haven’t told me the complete truth. This isn’t the only tape we got from your brother. Turns out you’re in quite a few of them.”

  “My association with Mike McQuade is private.”

  “Not around here it isn’t. Or at least it won’t be, if one of the other officers gets ahold of these tapes. For now, I’ve managed to keep a lid on them. Can’t guarantee that will always be the case, though.”

  Her anger rose at his veiled threat. “What exactly are you suggesting, Detective Atkins?”

  “What I’m suggesting, Ms. Rockford, is that you stop hanging around with McQuade.” His cool smile made her blood boil. If they weren’t there, in the middle of the station, she’d show him just how much he’d pissed her off with a nice kick in the pants. She’d thought Troy was her friend, a nice guy she’d perhaps go on a date with sometime. Except nice guys didn’t blackmail their friends. She wondered what other secrets golden-boy Troy might have hidden under his slick, cover-model persona.

  He continued, seemingly unfazed by her growing fury. “Mike McQuade is bad news. That video proves there’s more to his relationship with Barbara Newton. Not to mention the incidents in his past that—”

  “Hey, Atkins,” another detective called from across the room. “Can we let Price go home now?”

  Troy stood and brushed past Laura, then leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Stay away from him, Rockford. Or else.”

  Livid, Laura waited until he’d gone back into the interrogation room before she grabbed her stuff and left. Or else what? He’d show those tapes to his buddies on the force and make her look like a lying slut in front of the whole police department? He’d ruin her reputation and her sources in Vegas? What an asshole. She pushed outside and headed for her Impala.

  After shoving her bag onto the passenger seat, Laura climbed in behind the wheel and cranked the engine. Why the hell was Troy digging into Mike’s past so hard anyway? It was almost like he wanted to find something wrong, like he didn’t want to shine the spotlight elsewhere, like maybe Troy might have something to do with it all…

  Her breath hitched. Oh, God. Where had that come from? But as she backed out of her parking spot and thought about it more, it kind of made sense. Troy would certainly have the access, being a cop and all. Not to mention the fact he seemed to have some personal vendetta against Mike McQuade all of a sudden.

  Distracted, she headed back downtown toward the Turnberry, wondering about Troy’s last crack concerning incidents in Mike’s past.

  She’d come clean to Mike about her documentary ruse. Now it was his turn. Time for him to tell her the truth about his past.

  Fifteen

  By ten-fifteen, Laura stood in the Turnberry’s lobby once more, buzzing Mike’s penthouse. Incensed, she stepped back and stared up into the little security camera on the wall, tapping her toe while she waited for him to answer.

  “Yeah?” The deep timbre of Mike’s voice over the intercom reminded her of lazy Sunday mornings in bed, but she refused to be distracted. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me.” She stepped into the camera’s range. “Can I come up?”

  Mike chuckled, the sexy sound shimming down her spine. “Darling, you can come anywhere you want.”

  “I’m serious. We need to talk.”

  “Oh.” His tone sobered. “Okay, uh, sure.”

  She rode up, muscles tense and mind stewing. By the time the doors slid open and Mike pulled her into a hug, she’d worked herself into a fine snit. Laura remained stiff in his embrace, and he pulled back, frowning down at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She blinked up at him then pushed him away. “No bruises.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “No one’s punched you in the face. That’s good.”

  “I like to think so.” He followed her into the living room, looking as confused as she felt. She started to sit on the sofa, then decided at the last minute not to—considering what they’d done there. Next she walked to the armchair, but that was a no-go as well. That’s where their big night had started. In the end, she stood in front of the windows, having dismissed sitting altogether. It was a better tactical move anyway. If he did turn out to be the murderer after all, or if he said something she didn’t like, being on her feet already made for easier bolting.

  Mike stood off to the side, watching her entire performance with amusement. “So, what do we need to talk about?”

  “I was at the police station earlier. They had video. Of you. And the first victim, the widow, Barbara Newton. Here, in your penthouse. Things looked rather…cozy.”

  “Cozy?” He stood perfectly still, inscrutable as always.

  “Yeah. She told you she thought someone was following her, but you didn’t believe her. Why?”

  “I don’t remember.” His warm brown eyes narrowed. “It was a long time ago.”

  “But you do remember her?”

  “Of course I remember her. Her husband used to work for me. What’s not to remember?”

  “You’re hiding something.” Laura compressed her lips, refusing to look away from him. “I know it.”

  “What exactly is happening here, Laura?” He moved closer to her. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “I see.” He stood before her now at the windows, hands on his hips, lips tight. “I didn’t kill Jim, if that’s what you’re getting at. It was an accident. I’ve never killed anyone, come to think of it. Though it sounds like that’s what you think happened.”

  “I don’t know what to think, Mike. You don’t tell me anything.”

  He exhaled, scowling at the floor for a moment before taking her ar
m and guiding her over to a long chaise lounge next to the far wall. “Sit down and I’ll tell you everything that’s in my power to tell, okay? Let me just make us some coffee first. I haven’t had any yet today, and you know how I am without my caffeine fix.”

  “Right. So you can slip some poison in there or something? No thanks.” The taunt sounded childish even to her, but dammit. He made her so mad with all his hidden facets and dark secrets. It was her job to read people, to learn their worst, but he defied all of her rules.

  “Seriously?” He gave her an aggravated, slightly pained look. “Look, if I wanted to do you in, I sure as hell wouldn’t use poison. Too traceable. And why would I do it here? In my house? Do you know how much blood removal costs these days?”

  “No, I don’t, but apparently you do, huh? And are you saying you do want to do me in, just by different methods?” She crossed her arms again, her expression mulish. “Nice. Tell me, what exactly is the going rate for blood removal?”

  “It was a joke.” Finally, she’d gotten a rise out of him. He looked pissed. Good. “And hell yeah, I want to ‘do’ you. In my bed, over and over again until we both scream from ecstasy. How’s that?”

  Laura opened her mouth to respond. Closed it. Opened it again. “Just make the damned coffee.”

  “Fine.” He stomped from the room.

  “Fine,” she yelled at his retreating back, to get the last word. Alone in the living room, she plunked her bag down at her feet then stared at her toes. A series of bangs and curses issued from the direction of the kitchen, and her curiosity got the better of her. She couldn’t resist investigating. With a shoulder propped against the door frame, she watched Mike fumble around for the ingredients. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “No.”

  Exhaling loudly, she pushed him out of the way and took the pack of filters from his hand. “Let me do it.”

  He glowered at her while she shoved a filter into the basket then scooped in some coffee. As she filled the carafe with water, she couldn’t take his stony silence anymore. “So, tell me how this Jim Newton died.”

  He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and leaned his hip against the counter. “He was my head programmer. We were all here, at the penthouse, for the release party for Vegas Noir. It was M Cubed’s first game and kind of a big deal. I don’t know exactly what took place, but Jim went out on the balcony for some air. Next thing I knew, he was floating face down in the pool, dead.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “The police report said he’d had too much to drink and fell in. Drowned. The coroner’s report corroborated those findings. They ruled it an accident. Some celebration, huh?”

  Despite her wariness, Mike looked like someone had kicked his puppy, and Laura couldn’t stop herself from comforting him. She pushed Start on the coffee machine then laid a hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

  He stared at the floor. “He was my best friend. We were going to build this company together.”

  Troy’s warnings from earlier came back to her mind, along with the widow’s panicked statement. “Is there any reason to suspect it wasn’t an accident?”

  “I don’t know anymore. It was five years ago, Laura.” Mike sighed. “With all these new murders happening, I don’t know what to think.”

  Not wanting to take advantage of his vulnerable state but not wanting to back off either, Laura pushed a bit more. “When I went out to talk to Barbara Newton’s kids, they told me you gave their mother money every month.”

  Silence. His only movement was a muscle twitching near his clenched jaw.

  If Mike had been involved with Jim’s widow sexually, she needed to know. She might be lonely and desperate and want him more than her next breath these days, but she sure as hell wouldn’t climb in bed with a man who’d just lost his lover, possibly by his own hand. “Want to tell me why you’d do that?”

  Seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness. At last, Mike cursed under his breath and stared out the window over the sink. “Jim’s life insurance only covered the funeral expenses. I’m godfather to those kids. I couldn’t leave them with nothing. I know what that’s like, growing up poor, always wanting, always having to work and prove yourself for every damned thing. They deserved better.” His brow furrowed, and his bare toes curled on the tile floor. “Besides, if it wasn’t for me throwing that stupid party, Jim might still be alive.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mike.” Laura inched closer. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, hollow and unpleasant. “I’ve been telling myself that for five fucking years. Maybe someday I’ll believe it.”

  “Mike, I—”

  The coffee maker beeped, severing her speech. She located two mugs in a cupboard he indicated. After she poured them each a cup and handed him one, they made their way back to the living room and settled on the chaise again. “That must’ve been what Troy meant about your dark past.”

  “My what?” He took a sip from his mug then wrinkled his nose. “And who’s Troy?”

  “A homicide detective on the force.”

  “Ah. Blake investigated Jim’s case, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know that. But that timeline makes sense.” She took a sip of her own coffee and gagged. “God, this stuff tastes like crap.”

  “Yeah.” He tried another gulp and cringed. “Definitely not your best work. Maybe you’re trying to poison me, huh?”

  Laura laughed then set the cup aside. “Maybe. Sorry. So why don’t you have your usual brew from 1020 today?”

  Mike placed his mug next to Laura’s on the table. “Ted usually does the morning coffee run on his way in, but he called in sick today.”

  “Oh.” She looked around, realizing, not for the first time, just how adorable he looked in the morning, all rumpled and sleepy and deliciously sexy. “Guess that means he won’t be popping in to disturb us like he usually does, huh?”

  Mike traced his hand up her back to cup the nape of her neck and draw her closer. “Nope. No disturbances today.”

  * * *

  Laura had been all Mike could think of since the last time they’d been together. They’d agreed on a one-time affair, but that rule had gone out the window almost immediately. Laura was different than the other women who’d previously graced his bed. She was smart and funny and quirky, not to mention unbelievably hot. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

  He lowered her down onto the chaise, then bent to nuzzle the soft, sweet skin of her neck and savored her answering shiver. “So, Princess. Now you know what I’ve been hiding.”

  “Did you sleep with her?” Laura’s voice sounded softer now, unfocused.

  “Who?” He trailed his lips to her collarbone as he slipped her jacket off her shoulders.

  “Barbara Newton.”

  Mike leaned back. “What?”

  She clutched at his T-shirt, as if she feared he’d leave her. She might’ve just shocked the hell out of him, but he wasn’t going anywhere. Not until this fire between them burned itself out. To prove his point, he covered her body with his, allowing her to feel the full extent of his arousal.

  Her voice hitched. “Th-the kids. Th-they said their mom spent a lot of time with you and that’s why you sent them money.”

  Her gorgeous hazel eyes were half lidded and hot with desire, and still she refused to give up her lead, her story. Ambition. Just one of the many things that drove him wild about her. He dusted kisses across her face, her neck, stopping to lick the now pounding pulse point at the base of her throat. “They’re kids. Teenagers. Everything is about sex with them.”

  The irony of his current position did not escape him as Laura arched against him, her hands sliding to his hair and curling deep within it to pull him closer. “Jim was a good friend of mine, and she needed a shoulder to cry on, someone who knew him as well as she did, someone to talk to. That was me.”

  He traced his fingers beneath the hem of her sweater, and she moaned low and deep. The
sound nearly undid him. Her skin was so soft, so warm, so incredibly luscious.

  Breathless now, she panted, “And you never took advantage?’

  “Never crossed my mind, Princess.” He tugged her sweater off over her head, flicking his thumbs over her straining nipples. Laura bucked beneath him. “Easy,” he said, lowering his head to trace his tongue over the delicate lace of her bra. “Though I can see why you’d want to pursue a story like that. Why you’d crave the change.”

  “Change?” She gripped his T-shirt and pulled it over his head then wrapped her legs around his waist. “What are you talking about?”

  “From the usual stories you write. Old-lady birthdays and country singer stalkers can’t be the career you want.”

  “Hey, Jan Winters is a friend of mine.” She scored her nails down his back and into the waistband of his jeans. “And that story was an exclusive. Got a lot of hits on the blog.”

  “Right.” He unclasped her bra and lowered his chest to hers, savoring the delicious heat of skin-on-skin contact. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

  “Just shut up and kiss me.” Laura pulled his head down to hers and kissed him deeply, her passionate response rivaling his own. The chaise was fine for fooling around, but he wanted more room for their lovemaking today, so he scooped her up in his arms and carried her down a short hall into his master suite.

  Once he’d dispensed with the rest of his clothes and hers, he laid Laura back on the bed and crawled over her like a panther stalking its prey. He wanted to savor every inch of her and somehow mark her, make her forget every other man she’d known and make her remember only him. He felt fierce, fevered, possessive as hell.

  Mine.

  He kissed her again, then worked his way down her body, stopping to adore her beautiful breasts once more before heading lower. She continued to watch him with her heated, sexy gaze, her fingers tracing over his sensitive scalp and driving him half mad with lust. His cock was so hard now it ached, but he refused to rush this time. This time he wanted to make every second last.