He needed to talk to her, to clear the air, and decide where they stood. He pushed to his feet, and dogmatically walked towards her office. They needed to get some sort of understanding in place. Defining their relationship might allow him to get some work done.
Finding her office dark, he felt an instant of fear. First, that she had been out late with Greg, but then immediately after, that something had happened to her. He knew Lindsey wouldn’t come in late because of Greg. Forcing a slow breath, willing himself to calm, he walked towards Maggie’s desk.
“Maggie, where’s Lindsey?”
Maggie inspected him with a tilt of her head. “My, my, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
Mark took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. “Where’s Lindsey?” he repeated in a steady voice.
“You mean you really don’t know?” she asked cautiously.
Of course he didn’t know or he wouldn’t be asking. Quelling his irritation, he asked, “Know what?”
Maggie spoke slowly, as if she were preparing for the storm ahead. “She headed to Vegas this morning.”
“What?” His eyes went wide, and anger began to take over fear.
Maggie stuck her pencil behind her ear and folded her hands together in front of her. “Yes,” she said with a disapproving tone. “I assumed you approved the trip, though I was a bit nervous about her going alone, this being a murder investigation and all.” Then she let out a short laugh. “Of course, she is in law enforcement. I just can’t stop thinking of her like a little girl.”
Mark couldn’t agree more. “Damn that woman,” he mumbled under his breath as he paced the floor several times, and then stopped in front of Maggie again. “Book me on the next flight out. Get me her hotel information as well.”
Maggie shook her head in approval. “Do you want me to book you a room?”
Mark turned towards his office and spoke over his shoulder. “No, I’ll call on my way to the airport. Just make my flight reservations while I cancel some appointments.”
An hour later, Mark arrived at the airport with hastily packed bag. Leave it to Lindsey to pull a stunt like this. He wanted to throttle the woman. They were going to have a long talk, that was for sure. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was running from him, not her past. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t about to let her chase after leads alone. Not on a murder case where she fit the victims’ profiles.
* * * * *
By the time Lindsey’s plane screeched to a halt on the Vegas runway, she was feeling downright sick. She loved flying over the Grand Canyon, but had hardly glanced out the window, too absorbed in her own regret.
Mark was going to be pissed, and she couldn’t blame him.
Her stomach felt like it had lead in it, and her emotions were getting the best of her. It would be easy to cry, which was something she rarely did. Plain and simple, she’d come to Vegas without Mark, in an effort to lash out at him. It had been stupid and childish. But now it was done.
After a lot of thinking, she had decided she had overreacted. She trusted Mark. He wasn’t using her, and she kicked herself for letting her father get to her. The night before, being around Greg hadn’t helped. It had given her an overdose of men who wanted to control her. And she had allowed herself to put Mark into that same category.
During the entire flight, she had tried to justify her actions, but it wasn’t possible. As the plane pulled into the terminal, she contemplated calling Mark. Perhaps if she told him she was wrong. No, she dismissed that idea. She couldn’t call. It would be impossible to explain what she was going through over the phone. She could only hope that her actions hadn’t damaged the bond that had started to form between them. She didn’t believe Mark was after her for the firm. There was never any real doubt in her mind about Mark’s motives. If she was honest with herself, she was just looking for an excuse to run from him.
It was going to take time and patience for her to be fully comfortable in a relationship with Mark. And she wondered if he had the patience to deal with her internal battles. Maybe she’d already pushed him away. Not that there was much hope of a long-term relationship between them. There were just too many obstacles, like her life in Washington. Still, Mark made her want more than a passing fling, and that scared her to death. She didn’t want to lose who she was as a person. Every relationship she had allowed to be a part of her life had taken a part of her and destroyed it.
An hour later, she entered her hotel room, sank onto the edge of the bed, and reached for her briefcase. No more self-pity allowed. She’d come here for a reason. Finding the number for the local detective in charge of the Nevada killings, she dialed. After a few minutes of conversation, they agreed to meet. Since it was already late, they set up lunch for the next day. She could already tell she wasn’t going to like the man she was meeting. When she’d described herself, he’d made a smart remark about her looking like the victims.
As if it was funny. Looking like a serial killer’s profile wasn’t ever funny.
Pushing to her feet, Lindsey stretched right and then left, trying to revive her stiff body. Hours on a plane had left her ready for a nap, but she needed to get to a library and do some research. Archived material on the local homicides should be easy to come by. She wanted to arm herself with all the facts she could before the next day’s meeting.
A few minutes later, she stood in the hallway, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Her gaze floated to the large window at the end of the hall. For the first time since she arrived, she enjoyed the spectacular view of the mountains, so much a part of the Vegas experience.
A ding signaled the arriving elevator and Lindsey stepped onto the car, only to find it occupied by a man and woman curled together in a lovers’ embrace. Great. Just what she needed. Another happy couple to remind her how damn alone she was. Lindsey stared at the metal doors in front of her as the couple whispered to one another, making kissing noises to boot. Clenching her teeth, Lindsey managed to make it through the ride to the bottom floor with feigned indifference.
A flood of cool air and bustling noise washed over her as she stepped into the main casino. Slot machines chanted loudly throughout the room, with occasional whoops and yells from players. Lindsey took a deep breath, soaking in the energy of the environment, hoping it was contagious. Following a carpeted path much like the yellow brick road, Lindsey made her way to the lobby. After receiving directions to the local library, she darted to the cab line.
Hours later, sitting in the library, flipping through archived news stories, she felt more confident than ever that the cases in Vegas were linked, not only to the Williams attacks, but to the Hudson victims as well. The similarities between attacks were uncanny and downright eerie. The more she studied, the more convinced she became, and in turn the hotter her temper flared. There was simply no way the Vegas attacks should have been discounted before charging Williams.
The girls all matched the physical profile, the marks on the arms were the same, they were all college students, and the timing of the attacks worked. Yet the Vegas cases would have proven Williams wasn’t guilty, and put someone’s head in a noose for the unsolved crimes. Now, she knew, someone wanted a fall guy and Williams had been the unlucky candidate.
Greg, Lindsey thought. He had been pining for political office, and he needed the conviction. Damn.
Shoving a strand of hair behind her ear, Lindsey yanked open her calendar and started charting dates. When she was done, she sat back and scanned her work. Just as she suspected, a single perp could have been responsible for all of the attacks. The timelines fit and the aggressiveness of the attacks, if reviewed from the first Hudson rape, had progressively gotten more violent. It was typical for a repeat offender. They tended to get more confident with performance and therefore more aggressive. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lindsey fought the suffocating feeling, fear-based, threatening to consume her.
The real perp was still at large.
Hour
s later Lindsey arrived back at her dark, empty hotel room with heavy thoughts. As she flipped on the light, her eyes darted hopefully to the message button on her phone. Disappointment settled hard in her stomach. Mark hadn’t called. Dropping her face into her hands, she fought the urge to scream and throw things. Or cry. She really, really needed a good cry.
Why did life have to be so complicated?
After a good thirty minutes of pacing, Lindsey decided she had to get out of the room. She’d go crazy alone in her room, lost in her negative thoughts. And she did love roulette. It would be good for a few hours of escape. A mere thirty minutes later, dressed in a black, slim-fitting dress, she stepped into the casino.
Scanning the tables, she looked for a roulette table that felt lucky. She might not trust her instincts in a criminal investigation as readily as in the past, but she had a sixth sense for roulette. An empty table called out her name, drawing her to its side. She took the middle seat, giving her full access to all numbers. To complete her escape, she ordered a Screwdriver.
The roulette dealer was a good-looking guy in his late twenties with a military-style buzz haircut. “So, what’s your name?” he asked with a look in his eyes that said he wanted to gobble her up.
“Lindsey,” she responded lightly, trying to ignore his flirtatious stares.
He nodded. “I’m Greg.” He pointed to his badge and offered up a bright, white smile as he waved a hand across the wheel. “No more bets,” he said to the players.
Lindsey wrinkled her nose as she watched the little white ball spinning on the wheel. “Greg?” She flicked him a quick glance and then returned her attention to the slowing white ball. “That’s a bad luck name for me. I might have to change tables.”
The ball bounced into the number eight peg, and the dealer dropped the marker onto one of Lindsey’s chips. “It’s not bad luck tonight. You just won.”
Lindsey clapped and gifted him with a happy smile.
He laughed in return. “Why is Greg bad luck for you? Ex-boyfriend or something?”
She raised her brows and gave a quick nod. “Yeah, something like that.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the subject. Lindsey busied herself placing chips on the table as he kept talking. “Where are you from?”
“New York,” she said and then corrected herself, “I mean Washington.” She groaned. “I think I need another drink.”
“Maybe you don’t if you can’t remember where you are from,” he teased, but flagged a waitress.
Lindsey dropped a five-dollar chip resolutely. She was ready for the spin. A quick nod to Greg and the ball was bouncing. “So are you here with this Greg guy?”
Lindsey laughed a little too loudly. Alcohol on an empty stomach was making her a little over the top. She waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, no way. I’m alone.”
“Alone?” he said, with a satisfied gleam in his eye Sam he tease. “Well, that is the most interesting thing I’ve heard all night.”
Lindsey was saved from responding when two older gentlemen joined the table. The excitement around the wheel escalated and more players joined the table. Soon there was a crowd, and Lindsey was smack in the middle of the play and loving it. She ordered several drinks, and focused on gambling, determined to keep her demons at bay, if only for a short window of time.
Tomorrow there would be plenty of time for worry.
* * * * *
Tired, irritable, and completely out of patience, Mark handed his bags over to a bellman and then plodded through the hotel lobby. The flight had been turbulent from start to finish, literally tossing passengers from side to side. Any hope of sleeping had been thrown out the window, leaving him with nothing to do but think about his troubles with Lindsey. Sitting still while his mind raced had been a difficult task that resembled torture.
Over and over in his mind, he’d contemplated her reaction to his arrival. It wouldn’t surprise him if she yelled. His unannounced arrival would most certainly piss her off; he really didn’t care. He’d spent the past several hours dealing with every possible angle she could throw at him. Ready for battle was an understatement. He was a bull ready to charge. It was time he and Lindsey set some rules.
He had no intention of going to any room but Lindsey’s. Stepping to the check-in desk, Mark informed the desk clerk he needed a key for Lindsey’s room. As expected, he was informed he’d need Lindsey’s approval before receiving a key. Giving the man a sly, knowing look, he discreetly slipped him a hundred-dollar bill. Without further ado, Mark was handed a key.
Standing in the elevator, his body pounded and pulsed with the anticipation of holding Lindsey, touching her. He almost laughed out loud as he thought of his previous night’s declaration of being hands-off until their business was complete. What a joke, he thought. Depriving himself of Lindsey was like taking a bottle from a baby.
Impossible.
He was so hooked, he should be scared shitless. But he wasn’t. Not at all. And that little fact said it all. He was falling in love for the first time in his life. The old cliché “head over heels” finally meant something to him.
Loving Lindsey was complicated, and he knew it. She came with emotional luggage galore. Simply proclaiming his love wouldn’t work with her; in fact, it might drive her away. No, with Lindsey he’d allow her time to get used to the two of them together.
Arriving at her door, Mark knocked lightly. When no answer came, he slipped the key through the slot and entered. The room smelled soft and feminine, like Lindsey. Her scent wrapped around him like a soft glove, making him groan at her absence. Marching to the window, he stood in frozen silence. Lights twinkled beyond the glass, but he didn’t pay them any mind.
He was too absorbed with his next step. Why couldn’t she have just been in her room? “Damn,” he muttered, shoving a hand through his hair. Well, one thing certain, he couldn’t just sit in the room and wait for her. He had to at least attempt to find her. If she was in the hotel, he would track her down. If not, he would end up back in the room. The thought made him grimace and head for the door with added determination.
Finding her on the slots would be near impossible, so he made a beeline for the tables. To his relief he spotted her almost immediately. She stood at a roulette table full of men. The flimsy black tank top of her dress revealed the creamy white skin of her back and shoulders. Skin he longed to touch. There was no doubt a few of the men around the table had the same desire.
He watched as Lindsey reached across the table to stack chips on her bets. The action made one of her breasts skim the man’s shoulder next to her. Mark’s spine stiffened as he zoomed in on the man’s eyes: hungry, lustful, and far too potent. The man all but licked his lips. A deep growl rose in Mark’s throat as a wave of jealousy stabbed at him.
Mumbling a curse under his breath, Mark charged forward, fighting a caveman-like urge to scream, Mine, mine, mine. He stopped only when he was directly behind Lindsey. Watching her, he saw her stack a huge pile of chips on the number eight. Digging in his pocket, he found a hundred-dollar bill. Resting his hand on the softness of her bare arm, he was shocked when she didn’t jump. Leaning forward, he put the money on the table.
“Put it on eight,” he said to the dealer.
The dealer gave him an assessing look, then said, “Black inside,” over his shoulder to the pit boss.
* * * * *
Lindsey knew it was Mark who touched her even before she heard his deep, sexy voice. When his hand came down on her arm, her skin sizzled with awareness. Pleasure, sexual awareness, need—you name it, she felt a surge of it.
Her senses raced with his presence, making her spare no time in turning around to face him. The sweet realization that he cared for her danced in her head, making her body’s reaction all the more intense. No man would hop on a plane, and push everything else aside, to track down a woman for simple lust. Mark cared on a deeper level, and her alcohol haze made the fear that realization might otherwise evoke simply
nonexistent.
She saw the surprise in his face as she turned and leaned into him, pressing her body into his, thinking of the rippling beauty beneath his shirt. Mark made her want him on a primal, deep level she wasn’t sure she would ever quite understand. It was so instant, so powerful.
“Mark, you’re here,” she said in a voice that cracked with a combination of surprise, emotion, and pure, hot desire.
His arms tightened around her waist as he looked down at her with potent, dark eyes. “Yes, I’m here. I—”
She touched her fingers to his lips. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and then pushed onto her tiptoes and replaced her fingers with her lips. It was a soft caress of a kiss that she longed to make more. But not here.
“You shouldn’t have come here alone.” It was a reprimand that lacked conviction. His eyes, his voice, his very demeanor suggested he too wanted their kiss to last longer.
“I know, I shouldn’t have left. I—” Lindsey lost her words as the dealer called out the winning number.
“Black eight.”
She digested the dealer’s call in stunned silence. Machines clattered around her, and someone’s happy scream ripped through the air. Turning to face the table, she confirmed where the marker was. Her body twisted back to face Mark, excitement in her voice, “Oh my God, Mark! We won! You won a lot!” Covering her mouth with her hand, she mentally calculated Mark’s winnings. “More than a lot!”
He stepped towards her, realigning their bodies, his hand settling on her hip. “Because you’re lucky for me, Lindsey” he whispered into her ear and felt her shiver in response.
Lindsey looked up at Mark, his words touching her like a soft caress. It felt like a dream to have him by her side. “Mark,” she whispered softly.
Her message was clear. That one word, his name, held so much meaning. For a long moment they stood there, gazes locked, blocking out everything else. The silent message they exchanged was full of mutual longing and sexually-charged hunger. They wanted each other, and there was no doubt how sweet the night to come would prove. But there was more than pure lust between them. The impact of those feelings raced between them, making them both spellbound.