Hot Pursuit (38 page)

“It’ll take time to ID the body, but it seems
as if the deceased is actually a George Allen Larson. His mother
and David West’s mother are identical twins. Larson was a year
older than his cousin.”

“We still don’t know who killed Larson,”
Proctor added. “West claims it was the dead woman.”

Odell cut in. “But we know that West, Larson,
and Brianna Sweeney all worked for Ryan Rivera’s California
operation. There was another guy too, a Julian Fletcher. We found
his body this morning near Charlie’s Diner. He was shot with a
three fifty-seven.”

“West’s gun,” Matt said.

“Yes, though we have yet to run ballistics on
it.”

“What about the house?”

Odell shot a look at his partner. “Unrelated,
in fact. Kyle Jenkins was feeling a bit upset over his falling out
with Sarah Savoie, so he decided to try one of his homemade bombs
in the yard. Except when he got there and realized no one was home,
he thought it’d be more fun to set it off inside. For good measure,
he turned on the gas. While he was setting the explosion, someone,
presumably West, stole his truck.”

“I hope you plan to keep him locked up for a
while,” Evie said sternly, meaning Kyle.

Odell’s gaze settled on her. He had no
trouble figuring out who she meant. “We surely do. Judge Hunt set
bail at fifty thousand dollars, so Jenkins won’t be getting out
anytime soon.”

“What about my sister? She’s underage, and he
was buying her beer. And God knows what else.”

Odell looked sympathetic. “Not much we can do
about that, really. The only crime he’s committed that we can prove
is setting the pipe bomb.”

Evie gritted her teeth. She knew it would
have to be enough, but she was still pissed off that Kyle Jenkins
had left her sister in the middle of nowhere after they’d fought.
If not for that, Sarah might have never come into contact with
Brianna and her thugs. On the other hand, if she’d been at home as
she was supposed to be, who knows what could have happened if
either Brianna or David had shown up there when she was alone.

Thankfully, Sarah was going to be okay. The
EMTs had already taken her to the hospital to be checked out. She’d
be reunited with Mama, and she’d give her statement to the police
when the doctors were through with her.

And then Evie was going to hug her tight and
not let go for at least an hour.

The detectives talked a few more minutes and
then left Matt and Evie to write out their official statements. As
soon as the door closed, Matt took the coffee from her hand and set
it on the table. Next, he pulled her into his lap and crushed his
mouth down on hers.

Evie threaded her fingers into his hair and
kissed him for all she was worth. They hadn’t been alone since the
ordeal on the yacht. When she was gasping for breath and Matt’s
erection pressed insistently into her bottom, she broke the kiss
with one hand laid against his chest.

“If you ever, ever do anything like that
again,” he growled.

“Like what?” She’d jumped into the water to
save him, the stupid man. Not that he’d needed saving apparently.
Going under was part of the strategy, according to him. He’d had
his cuffed hands on David the entire time. David hadn’t been
pushing down; he’d been trying to get away.

“I told you never to do that to a guy with a
gun. It was the wrong maneuver to use.”

Evie pushed upright in his arms. “Well I
don’t think it was. I stopped him, didn’t I?”

“Plowing into an underwater stump stopped
him. He could have killed you.”

“He was on the way down when Bree wrecked the
yacht.”

“Jesus, Evie, you scared the hell out me.
When that fucking
cannon
went off—holy shit.” He shook his
head and twisted a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Hmm, it was a bit loud.” And she had a
powder burn on one arm where the gun had been so close when it
fired.

His laugh was strangled. “Damn, that’s an
understatement.” He squeezed her to him, nuzzling her ear. Shivers
streaked across her skin.

“What now, Matt?” She was breathless, aching
for him, dying to tell him about all these crazy feelings inside
her, and confused all at once.

His gray gaze met hers. “I know what you said
earlier, but I want to go back to Reynier’s Retreat and spend the
next twenty-four hours in bed together.”

She hooked a finger in the sleeve of his
T-shirt, fiddling with the material. She wanted to say yes. Planned
to say yes. Anything to be with him. Anything…

“I’m not sure I can,” she said softly. “I
have to go to the hospital, have to figure out where Mama and Sarah
and I are going to stay now—”

“You can all stay in the guesthouse. I’ll
clear it with Misty Lee, but you need a place and it’s furnished.
I’ll be gone day after tomorrow.”

Evie forced herself to smile. “Yes, I
know.”

His eyes were suddenly flat, haunted.
Confused.

“I told you before that I can’t give you
anything.” He pressed a fist to his chest, his voice coming out low
and soft. “There’s not much in here, but whatever I have is yours.
Except that I can’t ask you to be a part of this life yet. I don’t
know what’s going to happen or what the consequences are—”

“I don’t care about that. I care about
you.”

His beautiful eyes were so serious. “I care
about you too.” He ran a knuckle against her cheek. “Now is all I
have, Evie. Right now. You’ll understand after I’m gone.”

Evie disentangled herself and slipped back
into her chair, her eyes stinging and throat aching. There were
things happening here that she wasn’t quite ready for. “Now’s not
the time to talk about this. We need to write our statements.”

“I’m trying not to be a jerk about this.” He
raked a hand through his hair and rested his forehead in his palm,
letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck, this is why I don’t get
involved.” He raised his head. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the kind of
guy who can make you happy, Evie. I want to be, but I don’t know
that I can.”

“Isn’t that for me to decide?”

His throat worked as he swallowed. “You just
had a taste of my life. If by some miracle I don’t end up booted
out of the Army, do you want more of that? Do you want to wonder
about where I am and what I’m doing?”

She dropped her gaze to the cold table. What
would it be like to always worry about him? To not know if he was
coming back? To be unable to help him?

“And if you get kicked out? What then?”

His mouth tightened. “Right now, right here.
This is all I have to give you, Evie. I’m being honest. I can’t
think about the future just yet.”

Her heart felt like glass. And she had to
protect it. This time, she had to keep it from shattering. “Then
maybe we should say goodbye now. Because I can’t be with you and
know it’s going nowhere.”

He stared at her for a long, tense
moment.

“
Très bien,
chère, très bien.”
He picked up the pen and started to
write.

MATT WORE SUNGLASSES FOR THE wedding. The
doctor told him he needed to stay inside and rest, but he was one
of Ben’s groomsmen and he had to be there. Christina looked happier
than he’d ever seen her. Her hands shook as she took the ring from
her maid of honor and slipped it onto Ben’s finger. For a moment,
he imagined himself in her place with a woman who smiled, cried,
and held up her hand for the ring he would slip—

Shit no. He shook his head and took a deep
breath. No way. He couldn’t. Even if he was done in HOT, he didn’t
know what the future held; he couldn’t involve Evie in his life
until he did. Was he supposed to ask her to wait for him? How could
he do that to her?

And if by some miracle he went back to the
team, then what? He knew what it cost the guys who were married.
He’d served with them before, saw the pain and agony in their faces
every time the C-130 lifted off. They loved the job too much to
quit and their families too much not to.

Pure fucking hell. Maybe it was best she’d
walked away, though he still felt a pinch in his chest where his
heart ached. She’d left him, and it was the right thing to do.

But he was fucking miserable.

Magnolias and jasmine perfumed the air,
wrapping around his senses and making him think of a different kind
of perfume, the one he associated with Evie. Citrus and spice,
flowers and woman. How would he ever breathe normally again?

He lifted his gaze, trying to shift focus.
Beyond the garden, the water of the bayou sparkled with the red
fire of the setting sun. Hard to believe that only a day ago he’d
been on the verge of dying out there.

The senator had been remarkably nonplussed
about the wrecking of his yacht. He’d already called in a firm to
raise her out of the bayou and transport her to dry dock for
repairs. The stump had torn a hole in her bow and she’d gotten
waterlogged. Thankfully, the damage was mostly limited to the hull.
Matt expected the old man to blow a gasket, but he’d simply clamped
Matt’s shoulder and squeezed briefly. Matt still wasn’t sure what
that meant, but it didn’t seem to be a hostile gesture. In fact, it
was probably the friendliest overture he’d had from his father in
years.

He hadn’t seen Evie since yesterday morning.
After she’d had the cut over her eye taped by the EMTs, they’d
spent a couple of hours at the police station. He’d thought they
would leave together, but he’d fucked that up beyond repair by
trying to be truthful with her. She’d written her statement in
silence, then left him sitting there alone calling himself six
kinds of a jackass and wondering how to get her back, even if only
for a moment.

The vows wrapped up and the wedding guests
adjourned to a different part of the garden for the reception.
People came up to him, congratulated him, and asked all kinds of
questions about his profession and if he usually did this kind of
thing for the military. He gave the standard vague answers, his
head lightly pulsing with a headache brought on by not one, but two
blows to the skull within a few hours’ time. It was a miracle the
headache wasn’t worse. Hell, it was a miracle he was upright and
had the power of speech.

He’d gone after West the instant the boat
crashed. He’d realized what was happening immediately, braced
himself for it, and grabbed the guy as he came hurtling toward him.
They ended up on the deck when they were thrown forward and West
scrambled outside as Matt tried to catch him. Matt flipped West
into the water and followed, hell-bent on squeezing the life out of
the motherfucker. He was about to do just that when David was
forcibly ripped from his grasp.

God, she’d scared the shit out of him.
Again.

Evie, thinking to save him—his ridiculous,
brave, beautiful chef. His best friend in the world. She’d battled
her greatest fear and leapt in after him. He should be ecstatic. He
should be loving her silly right about now, stroking into her while
they both shuddered and gasped and came.

Yeah, but he’d fucked that up pretty good,
hadn’t he? He’d never get that chance again.

“Hey there, Richie,” a soft voice said, and
he turned to the right, seeing her leaning against a column a few
feet away on the wraparound veranda, her body encased from breast
to knee in a silky navy dress. He excused himself from one of the
senator’s donors who was holding court with a bevy of ladies and
gentlemen and made his way to her.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She shrugged one gorgeous shoulder. “I had
this wedding invitation, you see.” The strapless dress fit her like
a glove, sending his imagination into overdrive. How could any
woman have so many lush curves packed into one small dress? Her
breasts jiggled when she moved and sent an arrow of need straight
to his groin.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to
hurt you.”

“I know.”

Her black hair was pulled back, away from her
face, and piled on top of her head in some concoction that had him
concentrating on the slim column of her neck. Damn, he wanted to
bite her there. And other places too.

“I didn’t expect you’d come, after
everything.”

She straightened and smoothed the fabric even
though it didn’t need it. “I didn’t plan to. But I couldn’t
disappoint your sister.”

“Is that the only reason?”

She shrugged again.

“If you’re here now—if you don’t walk away
right this minute—you know what’s going to happen, right?” His
voice sounded rough. Blood surged into his veins, his cock,
drowning him in a current of need and want.

“I’ve resigned myself to it, yes.”

He hesitated. “What’s that mean, Evie?
Because I don’t want to hurt you. Honest to God, I don’t.”

She closed the distance between them, slid a
finger down the lapel of his tux, and fiddled with his top button.
“I guess it means I’ve decided to accept your terms.”

He couldn’t stop himself from drawing her
into his arms. She was warm, vibrant, and alive. A woman he cared
about. A woman he wanted more than he could remember ever wanting
anyone.

He dipped his head to place a kiss on the
corner of her mouth. She sighed, turning until her mouth connected
with his. His cock throbbed as her tongue slipped against his. She
tasted like chocolate, happiness, and all the things he’d ever
wanted. A bright light flashed, the work of a photographer. He
didn’t care.

“I want you,” he growled against her throat.
“But I’ll let you go if it’s what you want.”

“It’s not what I want at all.”

He kissed her again, oblivious to any
attention they might draw. Before he lost his mind, he lifted his
head and scanned the garden. One or two people looked away quickly,
but mostly they were concentrating on Chris and Ben and having a
good time.

“You want to get out of here?” He prayed the
answer was yes.