Текст книги "Alone in the Dark"

Автор книги: Karen Rose

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‘We should probably join the search.’

She glanced over at him with a smile that said she understood how much it had pained him to offer to detour the two of them away from the privacy of her house. ‘I emailed Isenberg to ask her. She said no, that she’d rather we focus on the list. Can I send it to Isenberg’s clerk? She wants him to help us sort through the names, to see who had the opportunity to target you. And Tala and Phillip.’ She huffed in frustration, barreling over him as tried to answer her. ‘And Delores. Dammit, I forgot about her. I promised Stone I’d get her protection.’

She used the car’s hands-free to call in the request, finishing just as she pulled into the CPD parking garage and rolled to a stop next to her aging Audi. She handed him the keys. ‘Get in my car and wait for me. I’ll return the department car and deliver the bullet.’

‘Wait.’ He grabbed her wrist gently, rubbing his thumb over her pulse. ‘Rewind a second. You asked if you could send the list to the clerk. Not like it is. It’s got too much sensitive Ledger information on it. I’ll use the time you’re inside to clean it up, then I’ll email it to you. You can forward it to Isenberg’s clerk.’

‘Thank you.’ She leaned toward him, then sighed. ‘Cameras,’ she muttered.

‘Then hurry,’ he said, dropping his voice, laughing when she narrowed her eyes. He managed to bend his body enough to get his gun. ‘My laptop bag is in the trunk.’

She popped the trunk. ‘You should be fine here,’ she said, sobering. ‘But just in case, be ready to peel rubber.’

His brows went up. ‘You’re letting me drive this time?’

‘This time. Don’t get used to it.’ She waited until he was safely locked in the Audi before driving away to the parking area reserved for department vehicles.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 11.15 P.M.

‘How bad is it?’ Ken asked Decker when the younger man had finished stitching Demetrius up.

Decker peeled off his latex gloves. ‘He probably wouldn’t have bled to death, but I had to put twenty stitches in that arm. I’m glad you told me to bring something to knock him out with, although it would have been easier for me to get him up here if he’d been awake.’

‘You didn’t want to have to listen to him bitch,’ Ken said. ‘How long till he wakes up?’

‘The ketamine will wear off in a few hours.’ Decker tilted his head, curiosity in his eyes. ‘What did you whisper to him as he was going under?’

Luckily Ken knew drugs, and when Decker told him that he’d brought ketamine to knock Demetrius out, he had been thrilled. The person dosed was highly suggestible as the drug was taking effect, his first thoughts when waking influenced by whatever someone had said just as he passed out.

‘I told him that every cut I make with my knife will be fatal.’

Decker chuckled. ‘Remind me not to fail a mission.’

‘Yeah, well . . .’ Ken let the thought trail, wishing it hadn’t come to this, but not about to back off now. ‘Did you find those trackers?’

Decker was sober as he shook his head. ‘I know they were in the van, but Burton and I went over every square inch of it and Sean and I checked the box of electronics we brought in.’ He hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Which means we either dropped them, which is unlikely, or one of the Anderses did something with them, again unlikely as they were bound and blindfolded.’

‘Or someone took them,’ Ken said grimly. ‘Shit.’ He narrowed his eyes at Decker. ‘How do I know it wasn’t you?’

Decker didn’t blink. ‘I guess you don’t. I don’t have any reason to do so, though.’

‘You want Burton’s job,’ Ken said, watching Decker’s eyes fill with easy agreement. ‘You stepped right in and took over when Reuben disappeared this morning.’

‘I like to be on the front line. I hate working in Accounting.’

‘But you’re supposedly good at it.’

A shrug of Decker’s massive shoulders. ‘I’m good at a lot of things I don’t like to do. I signed on to be a bodyguard, not a pencil pusher. I do, however, respect the chain of command.’

‘But if a hole opens up in the front line?’

‘I step in. That’s who I am.’ Decker still hadn’t broken eye contact, but he made no sudden moves. ‘With all due respect, sir, I don’t want your job.’

Ken nearly smiled. ‘Why not?’

‘From what I can see, you sit behind a desk all day. I’d go crazy. I was going crazy sitting in Accounting crunching numbers. I’m not happy Reuben disappeared, but I’ll take up the slack and hope I do a good enough job that you don’t send me back to pencil-pushing hell.’

‘And if I do?’

‘I’ll die of lead poisoning from stabbing myself in the eye with the damn pencil.’

Ken laughed. ‘Well, soldier, let’s take it a day at a time. Burton is next in line for Reuben’s job. Can you work for him?’

‘Yes. He seems like an honest man.’

Ken frowned. ‘That’s an odd thing to say.’ He injected a light note into his tone. ‘You do realize this is a criminal enterprise?’

Decker finally smiled. ‘Yes, sir. But that’s the relationship the organization has to its outside contacts – the suppliers, the customers, the government. Within the organization, relationships need to be transparent and dependable. Like a military. Soldiers kill people. It’s their function. Depending on your point of view, that’s criminal or patriotic. If you’re the enemy, it’s very criminal. But within the ranks, you have to know the soldier next to you has your back. I believe I can trust Burton with my back.’

It was an interesting perspective. Ken leaned one shoulder against the wall outside the spare bedroom where Demetrius lay. ‘What other skills do you have, Decker?’

A slow, sly grin. ‘I’m pretty handy with the woodchipper.’

‘O-kay.’ Ken wasn’t sure if that was Decker’s sense of humor or a touch of insanity. He wasn’t certain that he cared. ‘I’ve had a long day. I’m going to grab some shut-eye while Sleeping Beauty in there sleeps off the ketamine. Wake me when he comes to.’

‘You want me to extract any information from him?’ Decker asked quietly.

‘No. He’s my friend, my responsibility. I’ll get what I need.’ With that, Ken turned away and walked down the hall to his own bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door, exhausted. He was glad Demetrius would be under for another few hours.

Ken had killed two people today and ordered the deaths of four more. Drake Connor’s sister and Reuben’s wife had been taken care of. Drake and Marcus O’Bannion were still out there, causing trouble that Ken didn’t even want to think about. He’d lost his security chief and found out that Reuben and Demetrius had been stealing from him. Maybe even working together.

He’d been told by his own daughter that he was getting too old for his job. Maybe she was right.

Because he didn’t have the energy to extract information from Demetrius at the moment. In the quiet, his heart hurt. He and Demetrius had started out as a couple of grad students selling weed to their peers and together built up a company worth millions, serving customers in more than forty-two countries. Selling them just about any perversion they desired. He wasn’t ashamed of that. There would always be buyers for that sort of thing, so there would always be sellers. Might as well be me.

He stripped off his shirt and stood in front of his mirror. Yesterday he’d been proud of his reflection. Now . . .

His cell phone began to buzz, and he prayed it wasn’t Decker saying Demetrius was awake. Luckily it was Sean. ‘What’s up?’

Sean sighed. ‘Dad, I just heard something on the police radio you need to know about.’

Ken sank down to sit on the edge of his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘What?’

‘An unidentified woman was found in a cheap motel about twenty minutes ago. The front desk says they have no record of her having checked in, that she broke into the room, OD’d on a sedative and went to sleep. Description matches Reuben’s wife, Miriam.’

‘She’s dead, right?’ Ken had given her the sedative himself and Burton had taken her to the motel to die.

‘No. Unconscious, but not dead. The chatter said the police were responding to an anonymous 911. Just thought you should know.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Ken pinched his nose harder. ‘She got picked up twenty minutes ago? But she should have been dead hours ago. I gave her enough sedative to take down Reuben, for God’s sake, and she weighs half what he does. If he’s still alive,’ he muttered. ‘If Miriam is alive, somebody pumped her stomach.’

‘Or made her throw it all up.’ A pause, then a tentative ‘Didn’t Burton drop her off?’

‘Yeah,’ Ken said flatly. Burton who hadn’t wanted to kill her to begin with. Reuben’s second-in-command had history with Reuben’s wife. Burton hadn’t allowed her to die. He’d arranged for her to be saved, putting them all in jeopardy. Especially me. Because Ken had forced Miriam to drink the damn sedative.

‘Do you want to buy me out?’ he asked Sean abruptly. ‘Alice said the two of you did.’

‘Maybe. We’d have to clean house.’

Ken huffed bitterly. ‘If we keep on losing people, cleaning house won’t take too long.’

‘Do you want me to find Burton?’ Sean asked quietly.

‘I know where he is,’ Ken said. ‘And I know that you’re aware of my phone trackers.’

‘I wouldn’t have been a very good IT person if I hadn’t known,’ Sean said reasonably. ‘I don’t hold it against you.’

Ken was quiet for a long moment. ‘Can you handle Burton? He’s a big guy.’

‘No, but Alice can.’ It was said with no bitterness or ego. Sean actually sounded proud of his sister, who’d gotten the lion’s share of Ken’s athletic genes.

‘She’s not . . . you know . . . with Burton too, is she?’ Ken asked with a grimace. ‘Not like she is with DJ.’

Sean chuckled. ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Ken shuddered at the image. ‘No. Just get Alice, find Burton and bring him here. I’m not sure where she is. She said she was going to finish off O’Bannion.’

After ending the call, Ken kicked off his shoes and lay on his bed, too weary to take off his pants. The image of Stephanie Anders doing it for him flashed in his mind like unexpected fireworks.

‘No thank you,’ he whispered to himself. Stephanie Anders was not anyone he would ever take to his bed – and on top of the day he’d had? Ludicrous.

But maybe that was his subconscious trying to tell him it was time to get out. Once he fixed this mess, he’d take his personal bank accounts, along with those of Demetrius, Reuben and Chip Anders and he’d retire.

Once he fixed this mess.

Twenty-five

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 11.30 P.M.

Marcus rubbed his mouth, his lips still tingling from that kiss in the hospital parking lot. Finally, he thought. After nine months of telling himself that he’d only drag her down with him, he’d finally silenced that voice in his head.

There was only one small wrinkle – she hadn’t asked him about the kidnapping and Matty. He wondered if she’d had a chance to Google what he’d told her to. She’d been a tad busy, after all. Maybe she hadn’t had time. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know if she had. Because if she hadn’t and if by some chance she had forgotten, he didn’t want to bring it up.

Except that she had a right to know. He couldn’t keep something like that from her. He’d tell her after all this was over, after he’d had a chance to get to know her completely. After he’d had a full night with her and had woken up with her at least once. He’d have something to take away with him then.

Or maybe he’d tell her and it wouldn’t matter. It was possible. She’d taken the Ledger activities with a surprisingly open mind. But that was different. His team at the Ledger was like a modern-day Mission: Impossible team. They’d never actually killed anyone, although he and Diesel had come close a few times.

But what he’d done after Matty died was very, very different. He had killed someone – even if his finger hadn’t been on the trigger. He stared down at the gun in his lap. It might have been a murder weapon – the murder weapon, even. He simply didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

But he did know that every time he carried it, he put himself at risk. When it’d just been himself to worry about, that had been okay. Hell, it might even have been part of the allure. But he didn’t just have himself to worry about anymore. Scarlett had put her career on the line for him. She’d stood with him.

He’d have to put the gun away, in his safe where it wouldn’t cause her any trouble. He took it from the pocket holster and ran his thumb over the barrel. It was not lost on him that he’d caressed Scarlett’s skin the same way a few minutes ago.

The gun had become more than a mere weapon long ago. It was a talisman, just as his knife was, but for very different reasons. Using a different gun would take some getting used to, he thought. But if it uncomplicated even a portion of their lives, it was a small price to pay. Because now that he’d held Scarlett in his arms, now that he’d tasted her lips and watched her face as he made her come . . . and now that he’d felt her hold him so tenderly that he’d thought his heart would club its way right through his chest . . . He knew that he was not letting her go.

He slipped the gun between his seat and the car door, where he could get to it if he needed it, then took his laptop from its case and opened the threat list. He cleaned it up, removing any references to his staff or the more questionable things they’d done, then emailed it to Scarlett.

A noise had his head jerking up and his hand going for the gun next to his seat, but he relaxed when he saw Scarlett knocking on the passenger window. He unlocked the doors, and she slid in, wearing a tactical vest over her T-shirt, her jacket draped over her arm.

‘Sorry I took so long.’ Her skin was flushed, a light sheen of sweat on her face.

‘Were you running?’

She tossed the jacket in the back seat. ‘Just a little. Didn’t want you to worry about me.’

He poked at the thick, padded bulletproof vest. ‘Where were you hiding this?’

‘I wasn’t. Lynda gave it to me, just in case someone takes a potshot at me too.’

He frowned. ‘You should have been wearing this when we went into and out of the hospital. Why weren’t you?’

‘I left mine at home after we . . .’ She shrugged, a blush coloring her cheeks. ‘After we had sex on my sofa. I think I was pretty rattled.’

‘Don’t get that rattled,’ he said, angry with himself for not noticing. ‘Why don’t you wear Kevlar under your clothes like I do?’

‘A, because it itches; b, because none of my clothes will hide a vest; c, because they make me roast, and d, because I didn’t promise my mother I would. I’d rather wear the vests over my clothes. Besides, you’re the target, not me.’

‘Promise me,’ he said fiercely. ‘Promise me you’ll wear one.’

She met his eyes, growing serious. ‘I promise. Until this guy is caught, I promise.’

‘We’ll renegotiate after this guy is caught,’ he muttered.

She smiled at him. ‘You can start the engine anytime,’ she said, pointing at the keys he’d left dangling in the ignition. ‘In fact, why didn’t you keep the AC going? You could’ve roasted too.’

‘I served two tours in the Gulf,’ he reminded her dryly, closing his laptop and laying it on the floorboard behind his seat. He started the car. ‘I can take a little heat.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘So can I, Mr Macho, but I choose not to.’ She cranked up the AC and leaned her face into the air. ‘Did you finish with the list?’

‘Yes. I emailed it to you.’

‘Must have been after I left my desk.’ She settled into the seat and checked her phone while he drove them out of the garage and on to the street that led from the city to her house on the hill. ‘I got it.’ She took a few minutes to scan it, tapped her screen, then put the phone in one of the pockets of the vest. ‘I forwarded it to Isenberg. She’ll get it to whoever’s doing the analysis.’

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. ‘I thought you weren’t going to your desk.’

She made a face. ‘Isenberg called me while I was in Ballistics. Deacon and Agent Coppola had just come back from your apartment building, and Adam Kimble, the detective who was leading the search for Mila and Erica, had just come back from the field. We did a mini-debrief. I got away as soon as I could.’

‘And?’

‘And the security tapes showed the killer leaving about five minutes after he entered with Phillip and shot the security guard.’

‘What time was that?’

‘Forty minutes after eight.’

‘Shit. He left only a minute or two before I got there. I may have seen him. Phillip said he was big and African-American.’

‘The camera didn’t capture his face. He had a ski mask hidden under his cap and pulled it down as he entered the lobby. He was also wearing gloves. The only skin we saw was around the perimeter of the mask’s eye holes. His skin was darker than Caucasian, but that’s all we can say.’

‘We’ll ask Phillip more when he wakes up,’ Marcus said firmly.

‘We will,’ she agreed with a hard nod. ‘When the shooter came out of your apartment, he went down the stairs, made sure the coast was clear in the lobby and then slipped out the front door. He had a towel wrapped around his arm and the knife still sticking out, just like Phillip told you.’

‘He didn’t want his blood spurting everywhere.’

‘But the towel had already soaked through. Phillip got that blade deep.’

Marcus thought of Edgar and Phillip, both fighting for their lives. ‘Good,’ he said coldly.

‘I agree. Agent Coppola talked to everyone in the building. Nobody saw or heard anything. He must have used a silencer.’

Marcus frowned. ‘Silencers for the Ruger are hard to come by. He may have had it custom made.’ His frown grew deeper. ‘But he didn’t use one in the alley. Why?’

‘Good question. But he did use a silencer on his rifle when he shot at you and Agent Spangler in back of the Anders house.’

There was a thoughtful quality in her voice that made him look at her. ‘What?’

‘The surgeon said that the shooter shot Phillip three times. Arm, side and abdomen. Arm was a through and through, but Coppola and Deacon didn’t find the bullet, just the casings. The surgeon said the shooter dug the bullet out of Phillip’s side and tried to dig the one out of his abdomen but gave up.’

‘Because the shooter was bleeding too. He didn’t want the bullets found. He left bullets behind at the alley and didn’t want the ones in Phillip connected through ballistics. The gun he used on me and Agent Spangler this afternoon was a rifle, so there wouldn’t have been a match anyway.’ He frowned harder. ‘But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he go to the trouble of digging the bullets out? He has to know that we know he’s the same guy.’

‘Do we?’ she countered. ‘Tala knew her attacker. I saw it in her eyes.’

‘So did I,’ he murmured. ‘When I watched the video later. So you’re thinking maybe it’s not the same shooter? Maybe the two aren’t related?’

‘But someone wants us to think that they are.’ She shrugged. ‘We’ll know soon enough. The ballistics tech was on her way in to do the test. They don’t usually work nights, but for something like this they get called in.’

‘You mean because a federal agent was killed,’ he said flatly.

‘No,’ she said forcefully. ‘Because we have a human trafficking murderer out on the streets. Nobody’s complaining about the extra hours.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘It’s all right.’ She slid her hand over his thigh and squeezed. Comforting him again, he thought. ‘Some of the time that’s true. But not this time.’

‘Why did the search team come back in?’

She sighed. ‘They lost the scent. Looks like Mila and Erica hitched a ride. We got their visa pictures and those of the husband and son from Immigration and have distributed them to all the officers on patrol now, and they’ll be passed out at the shift meeting in the morning. Officers are being told to approach the women with care and to show them photos of the husband and son and one that Children’s Services took of Malaya. Isenberg had her clerk caption all three photos with “They’re alive and safe” in both English and Tagalog.’

‘Hopefully that helps. I just hope they don’t go under. We might never find them.’

‘I know,’ she murmured, sounding troubled.

He stopped at a red light and turned to study her profile. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I just keep thinking about how none of this fits. It doesn’t make sense and it’s giving me a headache.’ She pointed at the traffic light. ‘It’s green.’

He turned his attention back to the road. ‘Wait till the ballistic report comes back,’ he suggested. ‘At least you’ll know if the same gun was used on Tala and Phillip.’

‘You’re right,’ she said quietly, but he could tell she hadn’t let it go.

Neither had he. He kept rerunning the events at his apartment building through his mind. ‘I’m trying to remember if I saw anyone that matched Phillip’s description of his attacker, but I’m coming up empty.’

‘Deacon is good at helping people remember things,’ she said, surprising him.

‘Deacon? How?’

‘He’s been trained to do hypnotism to calm you down, help you find things your mind’s filed in weird places. I watched him do it the first time with Faith nine months ago. Since then he’s helped three other victims recall things they either couldn’t remember or were afraid to. Don’t worry,’ she said when he grimaced. ‘He won’t make you cluck like a chicken. It’s just a relaxation technique.’

‘I don’t think that would work on me. It comes too close to an interrogation, or brainwashing even, and . . . well it probably just wouldn’t work.’ He left it at that.

‘You were trained to resist interrogation and mind control techniques when you were in the military?’

He frowned over at her. ‘I never said that.’ It was exactly right, though.

‘Come on, Marcus. Give me a little credit here. You move like a damn ghost. I’m good at being aware of people coming up from behind me, and you’ve snuck up on me twice now. Either you’ve had training or you’re secretly Batman.’

He snorted a laugh. ‘Okay, fine. You caught me.’

‘You mean you really are Batman?’ she teased.

He turned onto the road leading to her house and downshifted, making the Audi cough and rattle. ‘You may wish I were if this thing dies on us. We may end up scaling the side of the hill with a grappling hook.’

‘Big baby,’ she chided. ‘I run this hill every day when I’m training for a race.’

‘Really?’ He considered it, grateful for something to think about other than death and bullets and missing, frightened women. A glance over at her showed she’d accepted the momentary reprieve as well. Her eyes were alert and her mouth was curved in a smile that he wanted to see when he opened his eyes in the morning. ‘I want to see you run. Especially if I’m running behind you.’ The very thought made his mouth water.

‘Tomorrow morning,’ she challenged. ‘Crack of dawn. I triple-dog dare you.’

He shook his head slowly, a very different activity in mind. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘You’re refusing a triple-dog dare?’

He pulled into her driveway, turned off the engine and shifted in his seat, resting his forearm on the steering wheel. ‘I would never back down from a triple-dog dare. Game on, Bishop.’ He reached for her when she grinned, releasing her seat belt with one hand and catching her around the back of her neck with the other, then pulling her close for a kiss that left them both breathless. ‘But I think that tomorrow morning I’m not going to want to waste my energy on running that damn hill.’

She caressed his jaw with fingers that trembled. ‘Then I think I should give you a rain check on the triple-dog dare.’ She kissed him again, then smiled against his lips. ‘Mrs Pepper is watching.’

He pulled back far enough to peek around her. ‘How do you know?’

‘I saw the reflection of her porch light coming on in your window. We should go inside before she comes over to talk to us. She can talk for hours,’ she added in a whisper.

He was out of the car and around to her side to open her door in seconds, making her laugh. He tugged her out of the car and put her keys in her hand. ‘Unlock the garage door. I’ll pull it up so that you can drive the car in.’

‘I can open my own garage door, Marcus.’

‘I know you can.’ He gripped her chin gently, kissing her long and wet and hot, making her sigh when he kissed his way to her ear. His hands itched to run over her curves, but as hot as she looked in the tactical vest, it covered her curves all up. Plus he could see Mrs Pepper peering through the curtains on her living room window. ‘Let me open it anyway,’ he murmured. ‘Mrs Pepper will think I’m a gentleman, and I want to get on her good side. She makes great cookies.’

Scarlett shook her head, chuckling while she did as he asked. He waited until she’d parked the car and shut off the engine before pulling the door down, leaving them in semi-darkness. And total privacy. Finally.

He opened the driver’s door and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. Then he held her. Just held her. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her head rested on his shoulder.

He was shaking like a teenager, dammit. ‘This morning,’ he whispered, ‘was different.’

‘I know.’ She lifted on her toes and kissed his mouth softly. ‘This morning we were different. I didn’t know who you really were yet.’

He smiled down at her. ‘Batman?’

‘No.’ She nipped at his lip, then soothed the hurt with the tip of her tongue. ‘The man I so desperately hoped you’d be.’

‘I’m no hero, Scarlett,’ he said soberly.

‘Neither am I. I’m just me.’

He kissed her gently, because even though his body craved her, his mind knew this was too important to rush. ‘I like “just you”.’

‘Sometimes I’m not very nice,’ she warned.

‘I like my roses with a few thorns.’

Her lips twitched, then stilled as she grew very serious. ‘I’ve been alone a long time, Marcus, and I got used to it. But now, with you, I don’t feel alone anymore, and that scares the hell out of me. This morning was sex, and that was satisfying and fun. And simple. But this, us right here, right now . . . It isn’t simple anymore. This is . . . more.’

He kissed a line down her throat, making her shiver. ‘I want more.’

Her head fell back, giving him better access. ‘Oh good,’ she breathed. ‘It would suck if I were the only one.’

He unsnapped the vest, lowered his voice. ‘What do you want, Scarlett? A husband, children? A picket fence?’

She swallowed, shivering again. ‘Yes. I’m greedy. I want it all.’

He nuzzled her neck. ‘I can build a fence. And I’ve always wanted kids. And a wife. So we’re starting out on the same page.’ He slipped his hand under the vest, cupped her breast, felt the hardness of her nipple against his palm. ‘What do you want this minute?’

She laughed breathlessly. ‘To drag you off to bed and do all kinds of naughty things.’

His control snapped and he took her mouth roughly, too roughly. But she gave as good as she got, shoving her fingers into his hair and kissing him until he was afraid he’d come right there in her garage.

He reared back, breathing hard. ‘What do you need to do first?’

‘Walk the dog, take a shower.’

‘Then go. I’ll get my things and meet you inside. Where’s your bedroom?’

‘Second floor.’ She kissed him hard before pulling out of his arms and walking backward toward the door into the house. ‘It’s purple.’

He frowned. ‘What?’

‘My bedroom. It’s purple.’ She grinned. ‘You’ve been warned. I’ll hurry.’

‘Okay,’ he muttered, somehow managing to bend over far enough to gather up his gun and laptop and her jacket and shoulder holster. ‘Purple it is.’ He headed into the house and up the stairs, his pulse racing in anticipation even as he felt his shoulders lighten. Peace, he realized. This is peace.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Tuesday 4 August, 11.55 P.M.

Scarlett normally let Zat struggle up the stairs on his own, but tonight she was impatient. She could hear the shower running, and the thought of Marcus under that spray left her knees weak and her pulse thrumming hard. Everywhere. Scooping Zat into her arms, she ran up the stairs just as the shower shut off.

Holding her breath, she put the dog down gently and walked to the open bathroom door. ‘Oh.’ It was more a long sigh of appreciation than an actual word. She’d seen him shirtless. She’d seen all the important parts when they’d gone at it like horny weasels on her sofa that afternoon.

But not even her very imaginative daydreams had prepared her for the whole package of deliciousness that was Marcus O’Bannion naked and dripping wet. Broad shoulders bunched and flexed as he toweled the hair on his head, while droplets of water clung to the dark, crisp hair lightly furring across his chest, making her want to lick it all up. And then keep on licking downward. My God, the man was a fantasy in the flesh, and what flesh he had. Long and thick and hard. Remembering how it had felt inside her had her core muscles contracting so hard she shuddered. Soon. She’d feel him inside her again soon.

He finished toweling his hair and was dabbing at the bandage on his scalp from his run-in with Chip Anders’s splintered door when he saw her standing there, agape. His grin started slow, but spread to his whole face, his cheeks creasing in a way she hadn’t yet seen. He looked happy, she realized. And very relaxed. Except for his erection, which grew even larger and harder as she stared, bobbing to its own beat.

‘I didn’t use too much of your hot water,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know how big your tank was.’

Abruptly she closed her mouth and leaned against the door frame, trying for cool and knowing she was failing utterly. ‘It’s tankless. It heats the water as you need it. You can run it until you’re a giant prune and not run out.’

‘Good to know.’ He spread his arms wide, making her mouth water. ‘So then, come on in. The water’s warm.’

‘In a minute. I want to look. You are . . .’ She sighed again. ‘Just as I knew you’d be.’

‘You’re wearing too many clothes, Detective,’ he said lightly. She stepped back into her bedroom to strip, but he wagged his finger. ‘No, no. Stand there. It’s only fair.’

‘Just a minute.’ She took off the vest, placing her phone on the nightstand and her gun in the drawer. She considered not checking her messages, but knew she had to. Thankfully there were none. They had a momentary lull and she was taking advantage of it.

She returned to the doorway to peel her shirt over her head, revealing the bra she’d put on after her morning shower. She’d chosen it thinking about the way he’d look at her when he saw it. Pink and lacy, it was one of her very favorites.