It was his turn to swallow. “What?”
Her fingers butted up against the barrier of his shoulder holster. “Take it off.”
He was already shrugging out of his jacket. “Why?” he asked, catching a bit of her playfulness.
“Because it’s in my way.” She pushed at the holster again with her fingertips, from beneath his shirt. She looked up through her dark lashes, making him want to gobble her up in one bite. “I don’t think you want to get in my way.”
He unbuckled the clasp and blindly let the holster drop. “No, I don’t think I do.” He drew a startled breath, when her hands began to move again, her fingertips brushing against his nipples. His cock jumped against her and her eyes widened. His throat worked as he tried to make words come. Any words would do. Preferably words that would make her say “yes.”
“I want you,” he murmured. Direct. To the point. Honest as hell.
Her eyes on his, her fingertips still brushing his now painfully sensitive nipples she said, “Yes.”
Steven blinked. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I know.” Her hands moved up to his shoulders and began to push his shirt off. “Yes, I want you, too.”
Yes. She’d said yes. Wait. Steven shook his head and lightly grabbed her wrists. “Wait.”
Her hands immobilized, Jenna leaned up on her toes and nuzzled his jaw. “For what?”
Her scent was in his head. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He shook his head again, dropped her wrists, and stepped backward. “Wait.”
Her pouty lips bent in a frown. “Are you planning to run away again?”
“Yes. No. Hell, I don’t know.”
“I like the no answer better.”
“You would.” Steven raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated. With himself, with her. But mostly with himself. “I’m sorry, Jenna, this is just too fast.”
She huffed out a breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t believe this is happening.” She turned and walked to the dining room, clutching the back of one of the chairs with a grip so tight Steven could see her knuckles whiten from ten feet away. “What’s wrong, Steven? Is it me?”
He was across the room in less than a second, pulling her around to face him. “No, it is not you. Not the way you’re asking anyway.”
“Then in just which way?” she asked and he was appalled to see tears in her eyes.
Panic gripped his gut where lust had been only moments before. “Oh, God, Jenna, don’t cry. Please.” She jerked out of his arms and turned her back again, crossing her arms tightly across her breasts. She’s been through so much tonight, he thought. That he’d made it worse wrenched at him. “Please, sweetheart, don’t cry.”
She sniffled and he knew it was too late. “I’ll cry if I want to,” she said, sounding very much like a little girl instead of the strong woman he knew her to be. “And you can’t stop me.”
He smiled, his own emotion swinging back to tenderness. “You sound like Nicky.”
Her shoulders heaved and his smile disappeared. “I know,” she muttered. “This sucks.”
“What sucks?” he asked carefully.
“My whole life. Friends and family who won’t rest until I’m married. Crazy teenagers trying to kill me, and now my best friend is in ICU.” She wheeled around, tears streaking her face, still easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “And then there’s you.”
Steven tilted his head forward. Carefully. “Me?”
Jenna took a step toward him, her fingertip jabbing into his chest. “Yes, you. I’m happy with my life. I have dogs. I have sports. I have friends.” She jabbed harder and he winced but said nothing. “I didn’t want you,” she went on, her voice gaining strength. “I would have been happy as a spinster with cats. But can I be happy as a spinster with cats now?”
Steven didn’t answer. He didn’t think he was supposed to. He was right.
“Nooo,” she said, on an obvious roll. “And why not? Because you woke up my hormones and now all I think about is kissing you! When I’m not worrying about crazy teenagers of course.”
“Of course.”
She glared at him. “You think this is funny, don’t you? You think it’s funny that all I want right now is to throw you down on the floor and have sex with you. Right now.”
Steven swallowed. Audibly. “No, I don’t think that’s funny at all. Believe me.”
She looked slightly mollified. “Well, all right then. Now what’ll we do?”
Steven ran his tongue over his teeth. “I’m sure I have no idea.”
“I need to walk the dogs,” she said wearily. “You can go if you want.”
Steven grasped her shoulders firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll walk the dogs. Why don’t you get something to eat?”
“Okay,” she murmured.
When he came back from walking the dogs, one at a time, he found her sitting at the table, wearing an oversized T-shirt and eating ice cream right out of the container with a big spoon.
“I actually had something more nutritious in mind,” he said, patting Jim on the head. Or Jean-Luc.
Jenna looked at the spoon with a philosophical air. “It’s Häagen-Dazs Rocky Road,” she said.
“Sorry, didn’t realize Häagen-Dazs Rocky Road had been elevated to one of the four major food groups.” He pulled out a chair and sat down at her table. “Jenna, I think we need to talk.”
She shrugged and looked away. “So talk,” she said and shoved another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. She waved the spoon at him. “Go ahead. I’m waiting.”
He cleared his throat. “Truth of the matter is I’m flattered.” “Oh, God,” she groaned. “Not the I’m-flattered speech.” Steven raised his brows. “You’ve heard this before?”
She shook her head and dug deeper into the ice cream container in disgust. “No, but I read.”
Steven wanted to smile. “Well, I doubt you’ve heard it quite this way.”
Jenna wanted to scream. Wanted to pull her hair and just scream. Instead she ate some more ice cream. “Whatever,” she muttered, mentally preparing herself for more humiliation. “Just get it over with. I’m a nice woman and you like me, but you just want to be friends. Yadayadayada.”
He took the spoon from her hand and stuck it back in the container. “Look at me. Please.”
Jenna looked at him. At his beautiful brown eyes. At the body she still wanted. “I’m listening,” she said.
He closed his eyes and she saw his cheeks heat. He was embarrassed, she thought, as was she. It was bad enough to throw yourself at a man, but to be refused . . . It was humiliating.
“The truth is, I want you more than I want to breathe,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
He opened his eyes and glared. “I said I did.”
She drew a breath. “Okay, I’m still listening.”
“Good, because I don’t think I can do this more than once,” he said grumpily, which made her smile. He smiled then, too, and took her hand. “I have responsibilities, Jenna. Three of them. I can’t just be bringing home a succession of girlfriends that my kids get attached to. When I get involved with a woman, I need her to be the one.”
Jenna felt her throat close. The one. As in...the one. He couldn’t make it any plainer. And that...one... wasn’t her. “Okay, I understand. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, his brown eyes piercing. “I don’t think you do. Jenna, I’ve known you a week. That’s not long enough to know anything about you, or for you to know anything about me. I want to be honest with you. I like you. A hell of a lot. My kids could fall in love with you like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Nicky already has. But this isn’t a good time for either of us.” He drew a deep breath. “Tonight I was so close to taking everything you offered.”
“You were?”
He studied her soberly and her heart skipped a beat. “I was. I still am.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “I think I could fall in lov
e with you, Jenna Marshall. You’re beautiful and nice and kind. You’re every man’s dream. But if I’d taken what you offered tonight, it might have been taking advantage. You’ve had a shock. You’ve had as close to a near-death experience as I pray you ever get. Can you look me in the eye and tell me part of what’s influenced you tonight wasn’t that?”
She couldn’t. Because he was right. “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t think so. I want you to want me. For me. And I want you to know that if we go on, it’s with the understanding that it’s got to be very, very serious.”
Jenna raised their joined hands to her lips and watched his beautiful brown eyes darken. He truly wanted her, but continued to control his own desires. For her. So as not to take advantage of her. He thinks he could fall in love with me. It was so unexpected. He was so unexpected. The way he’d turned her life upside down. She swallowed hard, yet her voice still came out as a husky whisper. “I think I could fall in love with you, too, Steven Thatcher. You’re a good man. Strong and kind.” She watched the muscle in his jaw twitch, his only movement. She thought about what it would be like with him, to be loved by him, and her heart raced. Then she allowed herself to think about his children, to imagine tucking Nicky in at night and hearing him call her “Mommy.” And her heart sighed. “And if we go on it’s with the understanding that I want your kids.”
He seemed to relax before her eyes. “Good. Now I think it’s your bedtime. I’ll tuck you in.”
And he did, just like her father used to. Then he turned out the lights and sat in the chair next to her bed. Within seconds her eyelids felt like sixteen-ton weights.
“Steven?” she yawned.
“Yes, Jenna.” His voice rumbled in the darkness.
“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”
“I know. I want to stay for me.” His hand stroked her hair. “I almost lost you tonight,” he murmured. “Before I ever got to have you.”
“Umm.” His hand on her hair felt wonderful. “Steven, can you call the hospital to see if Casey’s all right?” She listened as he called, listened, then hung up.
His hand stroked her hair again. “She’s stable, Jenna. Now go to sleep.”
Friday, October 7, 6:00 A.M.
Steven expected to wake with a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair next to Jenna’s bed. Instead he felt more refreshed than he had in days. So why wasn’t his neck stiff and why didn’t his back hurt? And why wasn’t he in the chair next to Jenna’s bed? He bolted upright, sending the frothy blanket to his waist, baring his shirtless chest. Because he was in Jenna’s bed.
His heart caught. She was asleep in the chair. He reached over to shake her awake. “Jenna.”
Her eyes opened. “Oh.” She blinked hard and scrambled to sit up straight. “You’re awake.”
“I am. Why am I here and you there?”
Her lips curved. “I woke up in the night to check on Casey and you looked so uncomfortable in the chair. I pulled you onto the bed, thinking you’d just sleep. But, when I woke up again, your hands were . . . occupied. I didn’t mind, but I thought you would so I bunked in the chair.” Her eyes smiled as his face heated and she leaned over to trail the backs of her fingers against his cheek. “What time do you have to be to work?”
He captured her fingers and pressed them to his cheek, not wanting to let her go. Protectiveness welled from deep within and he didn’t want to let her out of his sight. A group of crazed, angry teenagers had tried to kill her. It was difficult to keep the fury from his voice. “Seven-thirty.”
“Then I should make you breakfast.”
“And coffee?”
“If you’re willing, I’ll try.”
Her eyes had grown smoky in the morning light. “Are we talking about coffee, Jenna?”
She gently pulled her fingers from his face. “We’re talking about whatever you want. But right now, it’s coffee.” She stood up and covered his mouth with hers and it felt so right it hurt.
He watched her walk from the bedroom, then rolled to his stomach. He could smell her on the pillow and thought about what it would be like to see her face every morning for the rest of his life.
It would be heaven. Sheer heaven.
Breathing her perfume once again, he wondered exactly what more he needed to know before trusting her with his sons. Nothing, he decided. Absolutely nothing.
TWENTY-TWO
Friday, October 7, 8:00 A.M.
“GOOD MORNING, EVERYONE.” STEVEN looked at his team.
There were no cheery responses. “Please take a look at the new pictures on the board.”
His team looked, their faces quietly contemplative. “Alev Rahrooh is missing. We can assume he has her and he’ll kill her, unless we find him first. Okay, Harry, what have you found out about the sign he left next to Samantha’s body?”
Harry blew his nose. He was allergic to pine trees. “Good quality plywood, paint available ad any hardware store. Dothing, Steven.” He shook his head. “Doh fingerprints, doh dothing.”
“Here.” Meg slid a white pill across the table. “These work on my allergies.”
“Pushing, Meg?” Sandra asked with a smile. “And in front of law enforcement officers?”
“I have connections,” Meg said dryly. “I think I’m safe. So, our boy murders Samantha, then erects a sign next to the body with an arrow and the word ‘Body.’”
“Deatly stenciled,” Harry said. “Will this make me sleepy?” he asked, looking at the pill.
“No,” said Meg. “Just take it. So we have a note, taunting you, Steven, and now a sign. It seems like our boy doesn’t think too much of you.”
“I figured that out,” Steven said. “I don’t think too much of him either. I’ll have another press conference today. Should I taunt back?”
Meg chewed at her lower lip. “I think so, but carefully. He thinks he’s smart, and he is. I think the only way we’ll catch him is to force him to make a sloppy mistake.”
“Good. I hope you’ve all read the file Davies assembled on Parker. We need to find anything to help Liz get a court order so that we can get a sample of Rudy’s DNA.” He gave each team member a hard stare. “We need to be careful. William Parker’s juvenile record is sealed. We aren’t even supposed to know it exists. In no way do we do anything that will compromise this case once we catch the little bastard. I’ve got two unmarked cars watching the Lutz place on shifts. We’ll know when Rudy leaves, where he goes, when he returns.
“Sandra, I want you to start really looking at all the high school boys. Anybody with a prior. Anybody who’s fast with the girls. Get these kids to talk. They’ll know who the big scorers are.”
“High school locker rooms.” Sandra shuddered. “I can hardly wait.”
Steven smiled. “I know. Now you’ll know how my bathroom at home smells. Just get a big enough group that will naturally net Rudy. I don’t want anybody saying we only looked at him. Kent, where are you with the crime-scene analysis?”
Kent pulled out photos of Samantha Eggleston’s body. “The ME got me the prelim last night. Cause of death was stab wounds. Heart, kidneys, lungs. He stabbed her fifteen times.”
“That’s how many times he stabbed the Seattle girls,” Davies said. “We thought it was because he was fifteen years old before. He’s a creature of habit.”
“I’ll buy the creature part,” Kent muttered. “There was an important difference versus Lorraine. Samantha was not killed in the clearing. She was killed somewhere else and transported.” He paused and stared at his notes. He swallowed hard, and Steven remembered this was Kent’s first sexual homicide. “Samantha was sexually assaulted. No semen found. Multiple recent needle punctures on her inner arms. ME’s testing for ketamine, but won’t have results till later today.”
“I have dews on the ketamine,” Harry said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “I found this in my box this morning. It’s from one of the veterinary supply houses I’d inquired on ketamine sales. They’ve invoiced m
ore than a hundred vets and farmers within a fifty-bile radius of the city in the last three months. They took a while to get back to me because they found an issue with one of their customers.” He tossed the letter across the table to Steven. “George Richards ordered a twelve-vial box last August. He ordered adother twelve-vial box last week.” Harry sniffled. “His dame came up when the supply house did an audit of unpaid invoices. Mr. Richards hadn’t paid the August invoice, but because his account was in good standing they went ahead and filled the new order and enclosed a friendly reminder. Two days ago, they get an angry phone call.”
“From?” Steven asked.
“From,” Harry said, “an indignant Mrs. Richards. Her husband passed away six months ago.”
“Interesting.” Steven picked up the letter and scanned it. “Where was the ketamine delivered?”
“To the Richards’s farmhouse. Mrs. Richards insisted she dever saw it.”
“Pay her a visit today,” Steven said thoughtfully. “Find out who knew her husband had an account with the vet supply company. And, discreetly, find out if her husband knew Rudy Lutz.”
“Okay.” Harry blew his nose again. “Anything to stay away from pine trees.”
“Good work, Harry,” Steven said. “Anything else, Kent?” Kent was staring at the photo of Samantha Eggleston’s body. “Just that she was bald, like Lorraine. And she had the same tattoo, just like I thought.”
Davies got up and walked to the bulletin board, staring with a frown at the Eggleston photo, identical to the one Kent held. “I’ve been trying to remember where I’ve seen that tattoo before.”
“You’ve seen it before?” Steven asked, more than a little annoyed. “Why didn’t you say anything when we were looking at the body yesterday?”
“Because I couldn’t remember then and I can’t remember now,” Davies snapped. “He didn’t tattoo our girls—that’s a new little trick. But I’ve seen it before. I know I have. Do you have a tracing?”