Flawless (15 page)

She was startled when she found him dropped down to his knees by the bed. His eyes met hers, and he slid the panty hose slowly from her legs. She watched him, feeling her breath catch, her arousal rise. He was shirtless, and now she had time to revel in him. He was everything she'd imagined, broad in the shoulders and chest, all lean muscle, perfect in every detail. His lips dropped to her kneecap, and she trembled in surprise. He looked at her again, then pushed her back on the bed, kissed her knees and her thighs up to her bikini panties, then teased there, too, tasting her through the silk before removing them and rising to strip off the last of his own clothing.

She shuddered wildly in his arms, certain she'd never been so aroused in her life. He kissed her lips, and she felt the pressure of his erection against her flesh. She ached to feel him inside her and wrapped her legs around him, arching to meet his thrust as he entered her. She wasn't very experienced, didn't fall easily into intimacy, but she was certain it would be impossible to find a better lover. He began to move, slowly at first, each movement awakening a wilder urge inside her...throughout her. In moments she felt as if there was nothing more important in the world than what was happening between them, nothing that could be more sensually explosive than the feel of him inside her.

She felt as if she were riding a wickedly sweet roller coaster, rising to peak after peak, everything simultaneously real and surreal. She was overwhelmingly aware of the scent of him, the feel of his naked flesh, the heat that burned between them. Suddenly she climaxed more wildly than she had ever imagined possible. She felt him shudder violently, and then he held her for a long moment before he fell to the mattress beside her, arms around her still. No matter what was to come, she thought, she would never regret the night.

They lay in silence for several minutes—probably necessary since she could barely breathe, much less speak. He pulled her close to the slick dampness of his body and smoothed her hair before he spoke again.

“Whatever my punishment might be, I'll accept it gladly,” he said softly.

That roused her from the cloud of mist and magic that had surrounded her in the aftermath of their spontaneous union. She rose up on an elbow, staring at him. “I'll never say anything,” she promised vehemently. “I'd never risk your job.”

That drew a smile from him, and he reached up to touch her hair with something like reverence. “I don't kiss and tell, either, Miss Finnegan.” He laughed. “And I certainly have no intention of risking the mighty wrath of the brothers Finnegan. Not that I'd ever deceive your brothers. But do you honestly think that I'll ever be able to look at you and not feel, not remember, what just happened between us? As far as my feelings for you go, I don't intend to deny anything, just to be careful enough so that no one decides I need to be reassigned.”

She frowned at that. “I understand that I'll be called as a witness when the thieves you caught that night go to jail, but the case doesn't really involve me anymore.” She bit her lower lip. “You're looking for the copycats now, and they don't have anything to do with me or Finnegan's. You've been great, helping me after the whole subway thing, but that's not an FBI matter, is it?”

He didn't answer, and that scared her.

“You don't really think I'm in danger, do you?” she asked.

Again he held silent, but only for a moment that time. “No,” he finally said.

She didn't feel convinced. “You only escorted me home to protect me from reporters, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, pulling her back down to his side. As she lay there curled against him, he spoke again. “And no,” he said softly. “Or... I'm not sure.”

“Craig...”

He smiled suddenly. “You've finally used my first name.”

“It finally seemed appropriate—really appropriate.”

His smile deepened, and he said, “Let's just say I'm suspicious by nature and leave it at that,” he said, pulling her closer.

As much as she liked the feel of her naked flesh next to his, she pulled away. Her bedroom light was off, but she hadn't closed the door and they were bathed in a glow from the other room. That was enough for her to see that, just as he had tried to reassure Julie earlier, he was trying to be casual now and not arouse her fears.

“There's something else, isn't there?” she said.

He let out a long breath and rolled to his side to look her in the eye. “Let me do the worrying, okay? You just be careful. I studied the video surveillance footage from the subway. I watched the guy in the hoodie you told the cop about. The footage is difficult to follow, but he does move around, just as you said. And he did end up behind you just before Shirley Martin started screaming and ended up on the tracks.”

“Oh, my God,” Kieran breathed. “I felt that he was there, but I didn't want to believe it. Do you think that means something? I mean, people move around on the platform all the time. Do we even know for certain that Shirley was pushed? You've taken the subway. People always surge forward when a train is coming.”

“They do,” he agreed.

* * *

Craig tried to concentrate on her words, on the potentially life-threatening situation.

But at this moment, he knew they were safe.

The light from the hallway created a halo of fire around her hair, turned her flesh to porcelain and highlighted her exquisite beauty. And the way she felt against him...

“Trust me, believe in me,” he said, and pulled her closer.

His lips found hers. His hands slid down her porcelain flesh, but it wasn't really like porcelain at all. It was silk; it was warm and vibrant. She touched him in return, and soon they were making love again. The problems of the world seemed far away. It was as if they had entered a time warp, moved into a different dimension and existed in their own intimately urgent universe.

But, of course, eventually they were forced to come back to earth.

“I just can't live like...this. I can't be afraid of every man in a hoodie I see.”

He pulled her close. “Let's worry about that tomorrow. Right now we need some rest.”

“Did you set an alarm for five again?” she asked him.

“Seven.”

“A little better,” she said, curling close. He held her, staring at the ceiling. He tried to remember the last time he had lain so with a woman and felt this way, but he couldn't.

“Wrong,” she murmured.

“Very wrong,” he said. “But sometimes it's good to be wrong.”

He saw the slight curve of her smile as she lay with her head on his chest. He kept an arm around her, feeling every little thing, the way her hair fell across his chest, the pressure of her body, the feel of her long, long legs.

He stared at the ceiling.

Oh, yeah, this was very wrong. And he had every intention of going on being wrong.

He felt her relax as she finally slept.

Eventually he drifted to sleep himself.

* * *

Craig's alarm never had a chance to go off; his phone rang at 6:37 a.m.

It was Mike.

“They struck again, Craig. In New York this time. Vintage by Victoria, an antique place with a valuable jewelry collection, in the Diamond District. Meet me there.” Mike hesitated just a fraction of a second before speaking again. “They robbed the place, and they killed again. Vic was part of the cleaning crew. Aw, Jesus, Craig, she was just twenty-two, emigrated from Romania six months ago. Welcome to the American dream, right?”

* * *

Kieran finished up her notes on her interview with Tanya Lee Hampton earlier than she'd expected.

She'd been at work since 7:30 a.m., and somehow she'd even managed to concentrate on her job.

At first she'd had a hard time focusing, lost in her natural human sympathy for the woman who had been killed. She didn't know the woman, of course, but her untimely death still hurt, and without the distraction of work, her thoughts now turned back in that direction.

Any decent person would feel that pain
, she thought, then laughed drily as she realized she was practically quoting her suddenly famous phrase.

But someone out there had lost a daughter, a lover, a sister....

She thought the killer deserved the death penalty himself and hoped that he would be tried in a jurisdiction that allowed it, though she wasn't sure what requirements defined a death-penalty case.

The murder must count as inhumane, right?

Didn't people give up any claim to humanity when they took a life?

She gave up trying to solve that dilemma on behalf of the world, or even in her own mind, as her thoughts turned to the cataclysmal change in her own life.

Today was Friday. She'd only known Craig Frasier since Monday. She'd slept with him last night.

On the one hand, she'd deserved a night of incredible sensual pleasure. She barely remembered the last time she had even gone on a date. She'd been busy with school and her new job and, over the past three months or so, being a support system for Julie.

She'd been attracted to Craig from the beginning. He was, frankly, an Adonis. She realized that her attraction to him had caused her to react self-defensively and against her own interests, as when she'd told him just how wonderful Julie was.

She smiled to herself. He was the type of man who could have posed for the kind of calendar women hung on their walls—or hid in a drawer.

He was courteous.

And employed. She remembered when her dad had warned her never to date a guy who was unemployed.

He was educated, smart, caring....

And an FBI agent.

One she hadn't even known for a full week.

What the hell had she been thinking?

Okay, maybe she was taking things a little too seriously. After all, even if Julie spilled the information that Danny had “borrowed” a diamond and Kieran had been there putting it back, what would he do? What
could
he do?

Arrest Danny?

There was no proof of any crime; the diamond was back where it was supposed to be.

Would he despise her?

Was that her real fear now?

She told herself that it wasn't, that she was really afraid he would look into Danny's juvenile records and discover what he—and Kevin, too—had gotten up to in their younger years.

Face it, she was still afraid of what Danny and Kevin might do. After all, Danny hadn't realized that stealing a diamond made him a felon, even if he had done it for what he saw as the right reason.

She felt a little chill run through her.

She liked Craig, really liked him. And sex with him had been amazing. She tried to convince herself that she could have it all, hot nights with Craig and her brothers' safety from punishment for the sins of the past.

The click of her office door reminded her that she'd come in so early because another jewelry store had been hit and another person had died.

And that a man in a hoodie might have pushed a girl into the path of an oncoming train—and that perhaps she was the one who'd been meant to meet a grisly end on the tracks.

Dr. Miro entered the office, smiling, and Kieran breathed a sigh of relief.

“Kieran, hard at work as always, I see. Did you know you're still all over the news? ‘Any decent person would lend a hand.' Everyone's saying it now. And of course,” she added wryly, “you really did lend that young woman a hand. The media will get to that eventually, I'm sure. Meanwhile, you're certainly giving this office a lot of great press.”

“I'm so glad,” Kieran murmured, wishing the media would just stop talking about her. “I've finished my notes on Tanya Lee Hampton. She was abused for a long time before she finally turned on her husband. I think we need to help with her defense.”

“Then we will.” Dr. Miro sat in the visitor chair and took the file Kieran handed to her. She skimmed through it, her lips pursing, then looked over at Kieran.

“I agree,” she said. “How is she going to look on the witness stand?”

“Her attorney needs to thoroughly prep her. But I believe that if she lets go and reveals her emotions along with the truth, it will serve her well.”

“Good. I'll speak with her attorney, but you should be prepared to take the stand yourself.”

“Happy to,” Kieran assured her.

“On another note,” Dr. Miro said, folding her hands on her lap, “we've had a call from assistant director Richard Eagan of the FBI.”

“Oh?” Kieran said, suddenly feeling guilty.

He knew! He was calling her to tell her to keep her hands off his agent.

She told herself that was ridiculous.

And, of course, it was.

“You heard about this morning?” Dr. Miro said, shaking her head. “There's been another robbery, and another murder.”

Kieran nodded.

I heard about it before 7:00 a.m.

Dr. Miro went on. “Eagan was very impressed with your work on the robbery you were caught up in, and he'd like your help again as his agents continue interviewing the men from the other night.”

“I've interviewed them once already, and I said I didn't believe that they were the killers, which has now been established,” Kieran said.

“They're looking for something different now.”

“Where and when one or all of them might have come in contact with the killers,” Kieran said.

“You
are
intuitive,” Dr. Miro said, sounding impressed.

“Ah, yes, intuitive,” Kieran said, deciding not to explain that she really knew because Craig had told her so.

“Eagan seems to think that you're the woman for the job of interviewing them again. Apparently they were all more comfortable and talkative with you than with his agents, so he'd like you to talk to them, see if you can find the connection between them and the killers,” Dr. Miro said, patting down her short gray hair as she rose. “I wanted to let you know an agent will be arriving to escort you back to Rikers.”