Hiding His Witness (21 page)

“You’re welcome,” he said, electricity shooting between them.

Pulling on his neck, she pressed his mouth flush to hers, her lips tickling his. She dropped the bag to the floor and brought both hands around his neck, anchoring herself to him.

He’d wanted to put off thoughts of the future to some later point, but he couldn’t seem to keep them from popping into his head. Whenever he’d tried to resist her, he’d failed. Deep down, she was who he wanted. Why was he denying it? Why was he pushing her away?

She meant more to him than a linchpin holding together a case.

Her inability to believe she had a future, made her believe they had only now. He’d show her they had now and they had later.

Her mouth opened beneath his and he tasted her, mint and coffee. Deep kisses, hard kisses, soft kisses, his mouth explored hers. It had been too long since he had kissed her, since she had been in his arms. His hands hummed with pleasure as he slid them from her hips to her lower back, molding her against his body.

The boundaries he’d constructed took one final blow and then tumbled down. Denial hadn’t worked and trying to put his feelings on hold had transformed his hunger into starvation. He sensed her need, her hunger as deep as his own, and his body responded to it. He was no longer a detective protecting a witness; he was a man protecting his woman. This time, he wouldn’t sneak away or let worry and fear control him. This time, he was promising her a future. A future with him.

He could only think about her, her body pressed into his, her lips brushing his, her scent invading his nostrils. She intoxicated him. At this moment he never wanted to be separated from her.

A small sigh sounded in the back of her throat, escalating his excitement, heating the air around them to a sizzle and burn. She pushed her hips against his. Her hands slipped from his neck to his chest, her fingertips pressing into his flesh, searing him with her heat, her intensity.

Every time they came together, heat and lightning exploded between them. He took a step toward the bed and she moved with him, her thigh brushing his, fire whipping up his body. Two more steps and a small shove from her and his back hit the bed, his arms pulling her down. Her hair created a curtain around them as she held herself over him.

“Reilly.”

“Hmmm?”

“Your pocket is vibrating.”

He didn’t care about the phone. “Ignore it. It will stop.”

He ran his hand along the waistband of her pants, touching the blazing skin of her midsection. Her skin was soft, her breasts pressing into his hard chest. The vibrating phone stopped. He reached for the hem of her shirt to peel it over her head. The phone vibrated again.

Lifting his head and groaning, he rolled her to the side. He wanted to fling the phone away. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to know whatever news would be delivered or answer whatever questions were going to be asked.

“It might be important,” she said, her voice soft, even as her fingers trailed down his thigh.

He dug in his pocket for the prepaid phone, Harris’s number lighting on the display. Taking a deep breath, he answered.

Carey got out of bed, picking the plastic bag containing her bubble bath off the floor. She swung it on her finger and went into the bathroom, winking, and then closed the door behind her.

“Did I wake you? You sound like you were sleeping,” Harris said.

Sleeping...in the throes of passion. Whatever.
“It’s been a rough couple of days.”

“We’ve managed to dig up some information and compile a few theories.”

His family was a brain trust of information about criminals. He would bet they’d had hours of conversation, debating Mark’s psyche and the Vagabond Killer’s next move. “Anything you have will help. We don’t know where either Mark or John Sundry are.”

Harris blew out his breath in a huff. “They released Sundry and didn’t put a tail on him?”

“He shook the tail. No one’s seen him since this morning.”

“Are you somewhere safe?”

“Relatively.”

“Come home. You’re safest here,” Harris said.

Carey hadn’t seemed convinced it was the best option, but she didn’t know his family as well as he did. They were safest watching each other’s backs. “We will. Soon,” Reilly said. He was on limited minutes and he wanted the information Harris had gathered. “What did you come up with?”

“We couldn’t find a link between them prior to John Sundry being held in jail. But Mark has a long history of run-ins with the law, all of them resulting in him coming up blameless of any wrongdoing.”

Reilly snorted. “How many palms did he grease for that fortuitous result?”

“More than I want to think about,” Harris said. “I’ve brought a few inconsistencies to the attention of the right people, people we can trust to do the right thing.” Harris cleared his throat. “Haley Leone has been missing in action for nearly a year. She doesn’t have any pending warrants for her arrest, but she’s listed as a missing person and a person of interest in several cases involving both her father, deceased, and Mark Sheffield.”

Not what he wanted to hear. He’d wanted Carey to come back innocent of any wrongdoing. “She admitted she knows things about Mark. She’s too afraid to spill them.”

“If she’s willing to come forward, we can make a case that she acted under duress, and taking into account her clean record and her father’s death, I think the D.A. would agree her fleeing was for her own protection.”

Reilly wanted to abscond with her, to keep her safe and prevent any of the difficulties that were coming her way. “What about John Sundry? Any history?”

Reilly heard Harris clicking at his computer. “From the age of four, he was in the foster-care system. Most of those records are sealed, but we can assume he was another lost child. He served a brief stint in the military, dishonorably discharged for going MIA in battle.”

“Does that fit the profile? He kills people. Why avoid conflict in wartime?”

Harris typed some more. “He attacks people weaker than he is. An opponent pointing a gun at him would terrify him. He needs the violence to sate his anger, but he won’t attack someone he perceives as stronger.”

“Deep down he’s a coward,” Reilly said. He could have guessed as much about Sundry. “What’s the likelihood he’ll come after Carey?”

“That’s where my profile gets speculative. He would view her as strong, since she survived an altercation with him. In my opinion there’s a good chance he’s formed an obsession with her.”

Reilly let go a curse. He’d known the situation was difficult, but a serial killer and a crime lord with an obsession with Carey? Worst kind of attention.

“Come home. Dad had one of his SEAL buddies here arming the house with more firepower, configuring the security system and making the safe house strong enough to withstand a nuclear holocaust. Mom’s been worried sick. You can’t stay awake around the clock and Carey isn’t trained to protect herself. I know you’re worried about luring them here, but the alternative is that we come to you. We’ve got to circle the wagons.”

Circle the wagons. It was their family’s war cry when one of them was at risk. Get close and stay close. Watch each other’s backs. Harris was right. “I’m going to get some sleep. We’ll head for the ranch first thing in the morning.”

“Call if you need anything,” Harris said, relief evident in his voice.

“Will do. Give my love to everyone.”

They disconnected the call and Reilly silenced the prepaid phone then laid it on the dresser. He didn’t want any more distractions. For the next six to eight hours, he was alone in this hotel room with Carey. The kisses they’d shared lingered on his mind. Denying his attraction to her and pretending he could wait had only made desire throb harder in his veins. Make the best use of now. Live for the moment. Make her see how good the future could be. The idea of taking Carey in his arms was more than he could resist.

Beautiful Carey, currently lying naked in the bathtub.

Chapter 11

R
eilly heard gentle splashes of Carey in the bathtub. Taking the lead from their kiss and fully intending to pick up where they’d been before his brother’s call, he knocked on the door to the bathroom.

“Come in,” she said, her voice warm and inviting.

He opened the door and stepped inside. The steam of her bath had fogged the mirror. She was hidden beneath the white iridescent bubbles.

“Looks like you’re having fun,” he said. He was barely holding on to his self-control, his body completely aroused.

She lifted her head from the tub where she’d been reclining, a towel rolled under her neck. “It’s been close to a year since I’ve had a bubble bath. The bathtub in my apartment never felt clean enough for a soak.” Hot water dripped into the tub from the faucet.

His eyes roamed across her face and then skittered across the bubbles. The scent of the bath, floral and spicy, floated in the air. Lust wound tight inside him.

Entering this bathroom was crossing a line. It was a step he was ready to make. To put his concerns as a detective aside to try to give her a sense of safety and security in him as a man.

She could count on him completely. He needed her to believe that and to believe in the future. His career came second to her. Second to her needs.

“Everything okay with your family?” she asked. “You’re looking at me strangely.” She looked down and moved the bubbles around, checking that she was covered.

Reilly knelt on the floor next to the tub. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not just a compliment. You’re beautiful and smart and caring. You deserve to have an amazing life.”

She shifted. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I get it. You don’t have to soften the rejection with compliments. I know we have to have boundaries and that kiss wasn’t supposed to happen. We can leave it at a kiss. It doesn’t have to happen again.”

She wasn’t getting it. He was going to show her. “I want it to happen again. The first moment I saw you, the night you came running out of the alley, my first instinct was to get to you and hold you. I wanted you. I pride myself on being professional and distant. But with you, that was impossible. I want you, Carey, and I’m tired of fighting it.”

Her eyes blazed into his. “Would you like to join me?” she asked almost shyly.

Her invitation was irresistible. He peeled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. She was pure temptation and a deep, burning need seared him. He wouldn’t let the case stand between him and Carey, not anymore. He was lying to himself, pretending they had slept together once and it had been a mistake that was easily forgotten. What they had together had grown beyond lineups, a protector-witness relationship and a one-night fling. They had now and they had a future. He was staking his bets on it.

Carey flicked some water on him and grinned. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

* * *

Carey knew the sacrifice he was making. He was putting her first, ahead of his career. When had anyone put her first? It felt amazing. In that moment she felt cherished and cared for.

“Where’s the phone?” she asked.

“Silenced in the other room.”

No distractions. No interruptions. She wanted Reilly to herself. “Get in.”

Carey shifted in the tub making room for him to slide in behind her. Stripping off the last of his clothes, he stepped into the tub and brought the other foot over the ledge. He sat behind her, extending his legs around her body.

She relaxed against him, resting her head against his chest. “Doesn’t this feel nice?”

He ran his hands over her belly, pushing aside the bubbles and cupping her breasts in his hands. His arousal pressed into her back. “Very nice.”

She giggled and set her hand on his thighs, squeezing them, her nails scraping lightly. “You have to get clean before we play.”

“I’d rather play and then get clean.”

She didn’t want to rush. Not tonight. They were alone in a hotel room, and if they were lucky, they had an entire night together. She wanted him; she wanted this. For the first time in over eleven months, when she closed her eyes and thought of the future, she could see something besides crappy jobs and lonely apartments. She could see Reilly in the near future, spending Christmas with him, and in the distant future, spending her life with him.

She’d never allowed herself the luxury of imagining before. Not with Mark looking for her. Not with the past chasing her. Carey shut down those destructive thoughts. Whatever was going to happen with Mark, he wouldn’t terrorize her tonight. Not tonight.

Carey took the blue bar of soap from the ledge and rubbed it between her hands. Then she ran it over Reilly’s arms and legs, working the soap into bubbles while she massaged his taut muscles. As she turned in his arms, water rushed from her body into the tub and she rose from the bubbles, kneeling in front of him.

“Your muscles are tight. Are you nervous?” she asked. She didn’t want him to be. She wanted him to be as calm as she was. Though they’d made love before, something about this time was different. The trust and honesty between them made the connection stronger, deeper.

“Not nervous,” he said, his gaze heated. “Excited.”

She moved the soap around his neck and chest, rinsing him with the hot water from the tub. As her hands lathered the soap on his skin, Reilly clasped her waist, fire blazing from his touch. The contact burned her to her core. Her hand moved beneath the water and skimmed between his legs, closing over him. He bucked against her hand.

Her breath escaped on a whispered sigh. She slid her hand over him and he shifted his body, reaching for her and sending a finger inside her.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, her grip on him loosening. New tides of anticipation flooded her.

Reilly stood and pulled her to her feet, flicking the drain open and turning on the shower. A quick blast of cold, followed by steaming hot water poured over them.

He pressed her against the tile of the shower and she gasped. Her ribs still ached when she moved in certain ways, but what Reilly was doing to her felt so good her injuries became a distant memory. “It’s cold.”