Against the Night (14 page)

“Maybe. Mary Lou Kammer came into the station. You remember her? Rachael’s friend? Her sister used Mary Lou’s address as her contact location.”

The girl who had gone with Rachael to Rembrandt’s. He planned to pay her a visit this afternoon. “What’d she want?”

“Mary Lou found some travel brochures that had slipped down behind the cushions in her sofa. She thinks they may have fallen out of Rachael’s purse. Looks like she was planning a trip to Belize.”

Belize.
Fit into the puzzle he was mentally putting together. “Who was she going with?”

“Mary Lou didn’t know. She said Rachael was being really secretive before she disappeared.”

That seemed to be the consensus. But if she was planning a trip, she was going with someone. Someone she didn’t want anyone to know about. Shouted married man to him.

“Anything else?”

“Actually, I was thinking…maybe we could get together for a beer or something. We could meet somewhere or…I could stop by your place.”

Jesus.
“Look, Carla. To tell you the truth, I’m kind of involved with someone.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He planned to be very involved, as soon as the lady was in his bed. “If I wasn’t, I’d jump at the chance to see you. You know that.”

Her voice hardened. “Sure I do. Just like the last time.” The phone went dead. He was pretty sure that would be the last info he got from Carla Meeks.

He took a deep breath and stuck the key into the ignition.

First Amy, then Ellie, now Carla.

He fired up the powerful engine. He had things to do and thankfully, at least for the moment, none of them involved women.

Twelve

Just one more dance set and the club would be closing. Amy glanced at the hands on the clock on the wall backstage. Two minutes until showtime. Dressed in her dance costume, she listened for her cue and started up the stairs to the stage.

The music was loud and she knew the song well. It took a few seconds to orient herself, to clear her mind and let her body merge with the sounds. The rhythm was soft and seductive at first, and she began to sway to the beat. A few more bars and she forgot that she was a proper, unassuming schoolteacher, a woman who lived a conservative life in an unassuming town in Michigan. Little by little Amy Brewer faded and blossomed into Angel Fontaine.

And Angel was good at this, she had discovered. The girls on the high school cheering squad weren’t as athletic as the fancy squads today, but she could kick over her head and do the splits and she did them now onstage.

But here she wasn’t dancing for the home team or the parents in the stands. She was playing to the eager crowd of males lined up in front of her. When she danced for them, she never felt more sexy, more alluring. These men wanted her. And though she didn’t feel that same desire for them, she reveled in the power they gave her when she was onstage.

She shimmied and glided, propped a foot on the pole, caught hold and twirled around it, moved up and down erotically. She felt like a seductress, a tigress. She felt as if she controlled every man in the room.

For a brief few moments, she did.

The music swelled. She arched her back and swung her head from side to side, swirling her long blond hair around her hips. She ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, and closed her eyes, let out a soft low moan.

Then she opened her eyes and summoned a seductive smile, let her gaze wander slowly, teasingly over the men. A movement in the distance caught her attention, a dark, forbidding man sitting at one of the tables. Only his outline was visible and yet she knew with every ounce of her soul who sat in the shadows at the back of the club.

Johnnie was here.

Her breathing quickened. In the space between them, the air seemed to crackle with tension. The atmosphere thickened and heated as she moved, twirled, arched and swayed, dancing now for Johnnie.

The faces of the other men faded and disappeared. There was only one man now and with every move, she let him know.

The music swelled, reached a crescendo. Angel tipped her head back, rolled her head from side to side, and her hair slipped smoothly around her shoulders. Even from a distance, those fierce brown eyes watched her, the heat there burning with an intensity that made her insides go hot and liquid. Her nipples were hard inside the glittering red pasties that covered the small pink crests. Her body softened, dampened with every throbbing beat.

She watched him rise from his chair and start toward her, kept herself moving, though she couldn’t quite breathe. The end of the set was nearing. She could barely remember how to finish, but her timing was good and she struck the final pose at just the right moment.

The men were on their feet, whistling and cheering, throwing dollar bills onto the stage. Her gaze searched for Johnnie but she couldn’t find him. She hurried to pick up the money, knowing she had never danced so well, never been so perfectly in tune with her body.

She ran off the stage, taking a last glance around the room, certain he was there somewhere, then turned and walked into the hard wall of his chest.

“Johnnie…” His name came out half sigh, half sob.

“I’m taking you home,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “There’s no way you’re telling me no. Not tonight.”

She shook her head. “No. I mean yes, I want you to take me home.” She glanced toward the stairs. “I—I need to change.”

His gaze ran over her, blazing hot, utterly insistent. “I’ll be waiting outside the door.”

Her apartment was empty, thank God, Babs was still working last call on the floor. She changed into a pair of red thong panties that didn’t cover much more than her G-string and a matching red lace push-up bra. Skinny jeans and a white tank top, a pair of red spike heels. She wasn’t Amy tonight. Tonight she was Angel Fontaine.

Hurriedly, she washed off her stage makeup, applied a little fresh lipstick, a dab of blush and some mascara, then stuck the makeup kit into the small travel bag that held her toothbrush, and headed for the back door.

As promised, when she pushed it open, Johnnie stood just outside.

He looked her up and down, taking in the sexy jeans and high spike heels. “Tonight you’re Angel, right?”

She knew what he meant. “Yes.”

He cast her a wicked glance, bent his head and took her mouth in a ravishing kiss. “Good. That’s good.” Johnnie caught her hand and they hurried to his car. In minutes the Mustang was winding its way up the hill to his house overlooking the city.

He parked in the garage next to his Harley. As soon as she stepped out of the car, his mouth swooped down over hers in a long deep kiss, a hot, sexy kiss that made her insides liquid. Then he scooped her into his arms and started for the house. Beneath his T-shirt, his heart pounded nearly as hard as her own. He kissed her again as he climbed the few steps to the porch, making her head spin and her body go soft and warm.

She hardly remembered him carrying her inside, closing and relocking the door. She knew they were in the entry and Johnnie was backing her up against the wall and his tongue was in her mouth and hers was in his and she had never felt so hot and wild in her life.

“Johnnie…” Her arms locked around his thick neck. “God, I need you. I need…I need…”

“I know what you need.” His heavy erection pressed against her. “Baby, I’m gonna give you exactly what you need.”

And then her tank top was gone and her high heels were missing. Her jeans and push-up bra were lying in a puddle on the floor.

He paused a moment to look at her, his gaze dark and hot. His attention fixed on her red thong panties and his expression turned so fierce the muscles across her stomach contracted. There was lust in his eyes and a wildness that any other time would have frightened her.

But tonight she was Angel Fontaine and she could handle a man like Johnnie Riggs.

He kissed her again, deeply and thoroughly, ripped away the tiny thong, lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. She was open, exposed to him as he parted her sex and began to stroke her. Dear God, she was wet, wet and hot, throbbing and burning with desire. She had never felt anything like it.

She whimpered his name.

“It’s all right, baby.” His skillful hands continued to work their magic. “Just let yourself go.”

And she did, giving in to the powerful climax that splintered through her body, pleasure so sweet and intense she cried out his name.

Johnnie kissed her deeply. “We’ll explore your sexuality next time,” he promised, repeating her earlier words. “I’ve waited too long to have you.” And then he was deep inside her. His hands cupped her bare bottom, holding her in place as he began to move. Her arms went around his neck and she clung to him as he took her with deep, powerful strokes that made her hot and tight all over. She felt a second climax building, felt her muscles clenching around him.

It wasn’t until she came again that he followed her to release.

Amy slumped against Johnnie’s wide, muscular chest. His T-shirt rubbed against her cheek, and a rush of embarrassment hit her when she realized she was naked while he still wore his clothes.

He set her back on her feet, caught her horrified expression, and a soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I figured this would happen. You’re Amy again, right?”

She made a little sound in her throat. “You didn’t even take off your pants.”

“I couldn’t wait.” Scooping her up in his powerful arms, he strode off down the hall. “I plan to remedy that in about five seconds.” The minute she was settled in his king-size bed, he began to strip off his clothes. Any embarrassment she might have felt turned into fascination.

She had never seen a man with a more spectacular body. Wide, thick-muscled shoulders, a deep chest and heavily muscled arms. The tattoo of an eagle, wings spread, covered one bulging bicep.

Johnnie strode to the bed, naked and magnificent, and once more heavily aroused. She tore her gaze away from all that masculinity and looked up into his face.

“I didn’t think men could…could do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, coming down on the mattress beside her.

“Perform again so soon.”

He chuckled. “Not a problem for me.” He leaned over to kiss her, but she held him off with a hand on his chest.

“What about protection?”

He grinned. “I’m definitely in bed with Amy. I took care of it. You don’t have to worry. We won’t have unprotected sex.” She spotted the foil wrappers on the bedside table as he started to kiss her, but she held him off once more.

“What if…what if you don’t like being in bed with Amy?”

A deep rumble vibrated the muscles across his chest. “Then I’ll just turn Amy back into Angel. Here, I’ll show you.”

This time when he kissed her she didn’t try to stop him and in a very few minutes, as she dug her nails into his broad back and begged him for more, she understood exactly what he meant.

A purple haze lightened the sky outside the bedroom window. Johnnie had slept only briefly. He’d been too busy making love to the woman in his bed.

Jesus, she was something. Amy or Angel, it didn’t matter. Each was a beautiful, responsive woman and in truth, the two were one and the same. Amy was the only one who didn’t get that. She was part lady, part vixen. It was a heady mix for a man like him.

Johnnie watched her sleeping beside him, her long golden hair spread across his pillow as he had imagined a dozen times. She was lying on her side, her back to him, the sheet bunched below her perfect little ass. He silently chuckled. She wanted to explore her sexuality. During the night, he had given her a few preliminary lessons. But he had let her off easy.

This was new to her, he could see. In time, he would teach her about pleasure. In time—

Frowning, he broke off the thought. Time was something they didn’t have. They were working together, involved in a search that would eventually end—one way or another. Amy had a job in Michigan. By the end of the summer, she would be gone. Out of his life for good.

Which really
was
good, he told himself.

Getting involved with a woman—any woman—was the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t a settle-down kind of guy. It wasn’t that he needed to screw a lot of women to feel like a man, the way some guys did. He just couldn’t handle the closeness, the intimacy. Seemed like all his life, whenever he got close to a woman, he wound up getting hurt. First his mother, who had left when he was eight years old, then Katie getting killed, then Lisa.

He’d been crazy about Lisa Desmond, a woman he’d met a few years after he got out of the Rangers. He’d wanted to marry her, but Lisa was more interested in how much money he had in the bank than how much he loved her.

Funny thing was he had a lot more than he let on: his savings while he was in the army, which he had invested and had earned a tidy profit, later high-paying, off-the-record assignments, mercenary work, jobs he’d taken he didn’t like to think about but had to be done.

He hadn’t told Lisa. He needed to know if her feelings for him were sincere so he hadn’t said anything about the money, and when he found a note telling him she’d left town with Aaron Sespe, a real estate broker down in Orange County, he had his answer.

He wasn’t good with relationships. He’d figured out long ago it was better to keep his emotions in check, do what he was good at and not get mixed up with a woman who was either bound to die or leave him.

He glanced down at Amy. He wanted her. He was hard again, even after making love to her most of the night. And she always seemed to want him.

Figuring it was time to give her another lesson, he kissed the back of her neck and moved behind her spoon fashion. She moaned as he eased her leg over his thigh and slid his erection inside.

“Johnnie…” She sighed, whispering his name like an answered prayer.

He smiled as he felt her body moisten and stretch around him, felt her skin flush as her arousal strengthened. In minutes she came, and so did he, and afterward she kissed him softly, curled around him and went back to sleep.

Even as he held her, he reminded himself she wasn’t for him and never would be.