Flashpoint (12 page)

“I don't.”

“Fine. Let's talk about a little thing called arson. You told Tommy you thought Phyllis's house fire was deliberately set.”

“Yes.”

“Are you crazy?”

“It
was
arson.”

“Okay, but Tommy is the best investigator this town has ever had and you know it, which means he's on it.”

Zach opened his mouth to speak, but Aidan stopped him. “And you also know he has the biggest mouth this town has ever seen. Everyone is talking about you.”

“So what?”

“So what? You love this fucking job, that's what. You work your ass off. You're one of the best in the whole damn city, and there's a lieutenant position coming up that you're going to take yourself right out of the running for because you won't leave this alone.”

“I can't leave it alone.”

Aidan sighed. “You're that damn sure?”

Zach pointed to the material he'd been working on.

Twisting one of the kitchen chairs around, Aidan straddled it, steepling his hands over the back and setting his chin on them as he studied the board on the table. After a long moment, he let out a breath. “Mysterious points of origin. Metal trash cans. And now, maybe a blowtorch.” He shook his head. “So what now?”

Zach sat heavily and for the first time put words to the terrible thoughts in his head. “I'm not sure. But look at this.” He tossed down the photos he'd taken of the razed properties.

Aidan shifted through the pictures. “Who ordered the demolitions?”

“I'm working on that.”

Aidan finished his beer, silent.

“I know. I'm crazy.” Zach shoved his fingers through his hair. “I feel crazy.”

“No.” Aidan shook his head. “Someone is systematically destroying evidence. Tommy either knows this, or…”

They stared at each other at the unspoken implication that Tommy could be behind any of it.

“You're not crazy,” Aidan said. “And you need to get to Phyllis before someone convinces her to destroy any more evidence we can use.”

“We?”

“Partners,” Aidan said. “For better or worse.”

 

L
ONG AFTER
Aidan had left, Zach stood on his back deck, staring out at the night, his mind whirling.

Arson.

Brooke.

Restlessness…

He was surrounded by the life he'd chosen, a life both exhilarating and challenging. He loved it. And yet there was no denying he'd shut himself off from the very thing that people would say mattered most.

Love.

Had he really done that because of losing his family so long ago? Or had it just been an excuse, a handy reason not to let himself get hurt? If so, that had backfired, because he'd gotten hurt, anyway. Whether he was ever with Brooke again almost didn't matter—his emotions were involved.

She hadn't come to him tonight, either. That left him two choices: be alone, or go to her.

Easy enough choice. He went inside and grabbed his keys, and then whipped open the door—to find Brooke standing there, hand raised to knock.

B
ROOKE STOOD
on Zach's front steps, having gotten his address courtesy of Dustin. One minute she'd been at her grandmother's, absorbing the sensation of feeling at home inside a house for the first time in…well, ever, and the next, she hadn't been able to stop her mind from wandering to Zach. She had no reason for being here. None.

Okay, that was a lie. She knew. And her body's reaction to the sight of him, all big, bad and slightly attitude-ridden, cemented it.

She was here to, what had he said? Take it as far as they could.

He wore a T-shirt and jeans, no shoes, no socks. Simple clothes.

Not such a simple man. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He let out a breath and hooked his hand around her elbow, pulling her up the last step and closer to him. In the dim light he was all lean lines and angles and hard muscle as he jangled his keys in his other hand. “I was just coming to see you.”

Her heart skipped a beat or two. “You were?”

“Yeah. I got tired of waiting for you to finish thinking.” He moved aside so she could come in, but she hesitated.

“Give me a second,” she murmured.

“Okay. For what?”

“For my brain to catch up with the rest of me.” She smiled nervously. “It's my body that brought me here, you see. For some of that letting loose we're so good at.”

He smiled, and her body began to tingle.

“Maybe you should let your body lead on this one,” he suggested in a very naughty, silky tone.

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Just sort of let my brain take a rest?”

“Exactly.” Gently crowding her in the doorway, he put his hands on her hips and his mouth to her ear. “So, are you going to come inside?”

“That was going to be my question to you.”

His soft laugh stirred the hair at her temple and all her good spots. Then he slid his arms around her and gave her a hug, and along with the lust came such a rush of affection that her heart hurt. She buried her face in his throat and held on tight. “Okay,” she said. “Maybe I'll come in for a little while.”

“Great idea. We could—”

“Let loose?”

“Anything you want,” he murmured, pulling back to look into her eyes. “I wanted to see you tonight.”

Her breath caught. “You're seeing me.”

“Yeah. I am. I see you, Brooke. The real you.”

“With lines like that, you're awfully hard to resist.”

“I'm trying to be.” Pushing the door shut, Zach kissed her and, turning them both, backed her to the door. This freed up his hands, which he used to cup her face, a touch that turned her on more than any other. “I needed this connection tonight.”

“With me?”

“Only with you.” He kissed her again, his mouth making its way over her jaw to her throat.

“Zach?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Zach.”

“Right here.” His hands slipped beneath her shirt and her eyes crossed with lust.

“I don't have a condom this time. I forgot to put a new one in my purse.”

He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out…

“Three.” Her knees wobbled as she let out a shaky laugh. “Think we can use them all in one night?”

“I have more in my nightstand.”

“Oh,” she breathed, staring at him.

At her expression, he let out a shaky laugh. “God, Brooke. I don't know what the hell it is about you, but you always make me…”

“What?” She needed to know. “I make you what?”

“Well, it's a bit of a problem.” He pressed against her, and she could feel that he did have a problem. A big one.

“Oh my. I see.”

“Do you?” His voice was a rough whisper against her ear. “Any ideas?”

“Uh, well, I do have a few. You know, all in the name of assisting a friend in need.”

Against her skin, he grinned. “Is that what you're going to do, give me some assistance?”

“I'm a giver, Zach.”

He was still laughing when he kissed her this time, and so was she, but his tongue sliding against hers had all that good humor fading away. Pulling up his shirt, Brooke put her hands on his chest, his hard, warm chest, while he lifted her, sandwiching her between his body and the door, rocking into her, and at the sensation, she thunked her head back against the wood, a needy moan escaping her lips as his mouth latched on her neck.

“Love that sound.”

So she repeated it, and with a groan, he peeled off her shirt. Beneath she wore only a camisole. He slid the straps off her shoulders, then tugged it to her belly, exposing her breasts. “Look at you,” he whispered in awe, leaning in, running his tongue over a nipple then sucking it into his mouth.

She found her fingers in his hair, and tightened her grip, arching up into his mouth. “Now, Zach. Please, now.”

Now must have worked for him. He went directly to the button on her shorts while she yanked at his jeans. Somehow, he managed to tear open one of the condoms, and then with their clothes still half on and half off, he slid into her.

Time slowed.

Or stopped.

Or something.

It just felt so right, having him inside her, filling her. It was the only thing that made sense in her unsettled life, the only thing…and she didn't want it to end.

“Brooke.” That was all, just her name, as if he felt everything she did. Then he was kissing her, moving within her. Her vision burst into a kaleidoscope of colors, and her blood rushed through her head, roared in her ears. She barely heard herself cry out as she came, or the answering low, strained groan from him as he followed her over.

Lifting his head, he slapped a hand on the door to keep them from hitting the floor. His eyes were dark and sexily sleepy as he looked into her face.

“How was that for some letting go?” she asked, still breathless.

His eyes were still scorching. “If I were to say it wasn't quite enough…?”

“I'd have no choice but to make use of those two other condoms you're carrying.”

“Because you're a giver.”

“That's right.”

They made it to his shower, where Zach smiled down at her in a way that said he was rough and ready, all tough sinew wrapped around enough testosterone to leave her weak in the knees.

His hands were all over her, up and down her back, smoothing her wet hair from her face, skimming her breasts, her hips, her bottom, her thighs, between them…making her groan softly in his mouth, because yeah, his fingers knew her, knew exactly what to do to make her gasp. “Zach—”

“God, you're wet.”

She managed a laugh, though it backed up in her throat when he slid a finger into her. “That's because I'm in the shower.”

He played that finger inside her, in and then out. “This isn't from the shower.”

Before she could respond, he dropped to his knees, pressed her back against the tiled wall and slid his hands up her thighs. “This is from me. You're wet from me.” Using his fingers to part her, exposing exactly what he wanted, he leaned in and kissed her, then groaned in pleasure at her taste.

“Me,” he repeated thickly, with unmistakable satisfaction.

He was right. Even now, after knowing him in a way she knew few men, he could merely look at her and turn her on.

And his touch…

He wasn't done with her, not even close. “Oh, God,” she gasped as he, with gentle, heart-stopping precision, used his tongue, his teeth, his fingers, driving her right to the very edge and holding her there until she gripped his wet hair in her hands, silently begging him to finish her off.

Which he did, and she came again. Exploded, actually. Maybe imploded. She couldn't tell because she departed from her own mind for a few minutes, and when she'd have slipped to the tile in a boneless, orgasmic heap, he caught her. Caught her and surged to his feet, once again pressing her back to the wall, bending his dark, wet head to rasp his tongue over a nipple.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded, his voice a low, husky whisper as he lifted his head and impaled her with that dark, direct gaze. “There—God, yeah. There…”

Her breath caught again when he rocked his hips to hers, entering her. He pushed again, going deeper this time, and her entire body welcomed him.

“Don't,” he growled when she arched into him. “Don't move, not yet—”

But she couldn't help it, and he swore again as he moved, a slow thrust of those hips, gliding against her sensitized flesh, wrenching a horrifyingly needy whimper out of her as her head thunked back against the wall.

He had his arms low around her hips. One slid up her back, his fingers slipping into her hair, cushioning her head, protecting it from the tile. “God, you feel amazing.” He let out a slow, rough sound of sheer pleasure. “You're so beautiful, so goddamned beautiful…” He thrust into her, wrenching low moans from both of their throats, which comingled in the fogged-up shower as he moved within her…

She'd already come, but she was there again, right there, primed and ready to go, his rhythm knocking her right off her axis. “Zach—”

“I know.” Again he bent his head, this time to watch the sight of himself sliding in and out of her body, the pull and tug of their glistening flesh, hers so soft and pliant and wet, his wet, too, but hard, hard everywhere—his chest, his abs, his thighs, between them—

That was it, that was all she took in before her mind went white with blinding pleasure. Vaguely, she felt him follow her over, but she was gone, simply gone.

 

W
HEN SHE COULD
breathe once more, Brooke looked into Zach's eyes, which were still dazed enough to stir her up again. She'd wanted to let loose and, oh boy, had she. She'd wanted a change—well, being naked with a man was a huge change. She'd wanted to belong, and she'd found that, too.

She tightened her grip on him so he couldn't move, couldn't break free, not yet, and he pressed his hips to hers as if he didn't want to let go, either.

But then she realized how ridiculous that was. She didn't cling, ever, and she was sure he didn't, so she forced herself to relax her hold, to free him.

But he remained right where he was, muscles still quaking, eyes still a bit glazed over, just holding her, and something happened to her in that moment, something ripped deep in the region of her chest.

Oh, no. No, no, no…

She was not going to fall in love.

At least not any further than she already had…

Only she wasn't stupid, or slow-witted. She knew the truth. Knew it was far too late. Needing to lighten the mood, she lifted her head and smiled. “Two condoms down…”

He let out a half laugh, half groan.

“Hey, if you're too tired for that third one, I understand.”

Eyes glittering at that challenge, Zach bit her lower lip. He then proceeded to teach her a whole new kind of appreciation for her handheld showerhead—and she risked her knees to return the gesture.

By the time they hit his bed and tore open the third condom, she'd “let loose” multiple times and she was one quivering, sensitized nerve ending who could do nothing
but
feel.

And she felt plenty.

So damn plenty.

“Jesus,” Zach breathed shakily in her ear some time later. “That third time was…”

“Yeah.”

Turning his head, he softly kissed her throat, then her lips, coming up on an elbow to look into her face. “If we don't have the words for it, I say we keep going.”

There were many,
many
reasons why she should get up and go home, but there was only one reason why she turned into his arms.