Hot Trick (A Detective Shelley Caldwell Novel) (5 page)

I wondered how long it would take Silke to get back to me.

After hanging my clean clothes on a wall hook, I started the shower to get the hot water up. When I went to close the bathroom door, Jake was standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“The least you can do is give me a preview.”

“Ja-a-ake.”

“I love it when you say my name like that. Especially when I’m doing something carnal to you.”

His voice vibrated through me. I knew I wasn’t going to get him to budge, so I tried to pretend he wasn’t there.

Turning, I quickly shed my clothing, opened the glass shower door and stepped inside. I could feel his gaze as I let the water pound over my exhausted body. He didn’t take his eyes off me once as I sponged foamy shower gel all over.

“Let me help.”

I nearly jumped. He had an unnerving way of moving so fast I couldn’t even see him coming. One second he was at the bathroom door, the next second he was inside the shower with me, getting an up-close-and-personal view.

“Your back really needs attention,” he said, reaching for the bath sponge in my hand.

I couldn’t object, not when he was so close and so hot and I was so Jake-deprived. I guessed what was coming—the slippery feel of the sponge, his free hand “helping” spread the suds in every direction. He slid his hand lower, around my buttocks and between my thighs. Breathing hard, I hit the shower wall with both hands and spread my legs. He had the longest, cleverest fingers of any man I’d ever been with, and even before he slid them inside me I was creaming.

“I think you need attention here too,” he murmured, torturing my clit a little, pressing himself up against my backside.

“You’re still dressed,” I gasped.

“Complaints?” He slid the sponge around to my breast and teased a nipple until it stood at attention.

I couldn’t answer him, not with his fingers inside me and his cock rock hard stroking my butt. I wanted to tear off his jeans and free him, but I couldn’t move.

He rocked against me in an imitation of sex, pushed and pulled his fingers in and out. My heart thumped in my chest. In my throat. In my sweet spot. And just as I was climbing and climbing and climbing, almost there, knowing all I had to do was hang on for another few seconds and Jake would give me the relief I’d been missing, only then did the damn phone ring.

Jake kept up the pressure, but my head left the zone.

The phone rang again and Jake must have read my altered mood, because he stopped trying.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“I’ll bet you are.” He left me in the shower to answer the phone.

“After you get that, could you pull up the computer and run a search on Sebastian Cole?” It wouldn’t hurt to see what the escape artist had been up to lately.

“My pleasure.”

Jake was gone as quickly as he’d appeared. I shut off the water, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my hair, then dried myself with another. By the time he returned, I had on my underwear and shirt and was climbing into my slacks.

“I didn’t get to watch you dress.”

“I thought it was the
un
-dressing part you liked best.” Realizing he was wet, I tried drying him with the towel.

He pulled me against him and murmured into my ear. “I can be quick if you want.”

My body shuddered but I had to get back to business. I pushed away from him, leaving the towel in his hands. “Did Silke get that information?”

Jake inclined his head and held out a piece of paper. I reached for it but he held it up. “The least I deserve is a proper thank you.”

Knowing exactly what he wanted—what I wanted—I was oh, so tempted, but I needed to get on the job or Norelli would eat me for breakfast.

I kissed him, softly running my lips over his, then down his chin and his neck. “That’ll have to do you for a while, but I promise I’ll make it good.” I couldn’t keep the longing from my tone. “Really, really good.”

“I know you will,” Jake said, groaning. He handed me the address.

I glanced at it, then folded the paper and stuck it in my pocket. “Thanks.”

I went straight for the computer and saw that Jake had brought up an article about Sebastian Cole. Towel-drying my hair, I sat and skimmed it.

“It seems this Sebastian is a white knight,” Jake said from behind me. “He debunked the work of another magician named Edmund Fox. Sebastian claimed Fox was a charlatan who played on people’s grief and gullibility, supposedly connected them to their lost loved ones. Fox then took Sebastian to court for depriving him of a living.”

“I see Sebastian won.”

“By the way, Fox is in town,” Jake said, his breath suddenly at my neck. When I pressed back into his mouth, he ran his teeth along the flesh there, and found fuller flesh to occupy his hands. As if he weren’t busy torturing me, he kept talking. “One of the articles about Sebastian had an aside about Fox, said he arrived in town shortly after Sebastian.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

Unable to take any more of his seduction without giving in, I ducked away to turn on the printer. After making a copy of the article, I went back to the internet search. Skimming the links, I found a couple more of interest. Stories about Sebastian, some comparing him to competitors Delano Robichaux and Harry Dawson in addition to Edmund Fox. All positive stories on his work, on his ongoing quest for justice.

“Robichaux,” I murmured. “That name’s familiar.”

“Maybe because he was involved with the mob. He was found floating face down in a Las Vegas hotel pool.”

“I guess Sebastian isn’t competing with him anymore.”

“Or with Fox.”

“Well, it’s a start,” I said, leaving the computer in search of clean shoes. “Let’s hope it’s enough to make Norelli happy.”

“Norelli,” Jake echoed, following me into the bedroom. “This isn’t your case?”

“It is now.”

“Because of Silke.”

Slipping into a pair of loafers that I’d left next to the bed, I said, “You know me so well.”

“I’d like to know you better.”

“You will with time.”

“Time. That would be a problem since I hardly ever get to see you.”

“But we spend quality time together,” I joked.

“We could spend more time together if you moved in with me.”

Feeling trapped when he came closer, I ducked away from him again and fetched a light jacket from my closet. “Where is this coming from?”

“Where do you think?”

“We’ve only known each other for a couple of months, Jake.”

“Long enough for me to know what I want. How about you?”

I might want him, but it was complicated. Jake wasn’t the guy next door. He wasn’t a guy in the literal human sense. The vampire DNA in him might come back to bite him—and hopefully not me—someday.

Of course his vampire DNA had helped me close the cult killer case. He’d been willing to do anything to see that justice was done at last. We were the same in that way, the thing that first drew me to him beyond a physical level. Determination I could appreciate, it was every bit as attractive to me as his drop-dead gorgeous looks. Too many people skipped the fine print when it came to being upstanding. Not Jake. He was solid. And he was mine. Sometimes the realization was enough to take away my breath.

I cared about him, wanted to be with him, was willing to protect his real identity…but I couldn’t just open up and let him in completely the way he wanted. Part of it was the circumstances around his birth. I had difficulty enough with the woo-woo Silke brought into my life. Jake was another matter.

Mostly I feared I would screw things up like I had with other men.

What the heck was wrong with me?

“For now, can’t we just keep things as they are? I’m still proving myself in Homicide. You just started a new business. I’ll be complaining about wanting to see you more when your photography takes off.”

“If it ever does.”

“Of course it will.”

After Heart of Darkness closed and Jake lost his job, he hadn’t known what to do with himself. He’d photographed the world during his wanderings, and I thought he was good enough to be a professional. I’d encouraged him to bring his portfolio to a couple of galleries. One of the owners had hooked him up with a customer who bought three prints, convincing Jake he might be able to turn his hobby into a career. I was elated for him—he could do a job he was good at, one he loved. That he would be happy made me happy.

When Jake didn’t say anything, I put my arms around him and laid my forehead against his chin.

“I wish I didn’t have to…but I need to leave now.”

“I can go with you. Give me an assignment.”

I drew back, my expression serious. “I have to meet Norelli. This is police business, Jake.”

“Yeah.” He cupped my cheek and gazed deeply into my eyes. “You could get hurt.”

“You could too. You’re not invincible.” The idea of his getting hurt on the street made my alarms go off. As did the fact that he wanted to protect me. No one had ever thought I needed protecting before. “I appreciate your concern.”

I really did. Every time he offered—literally every case. I’d never met anyone like him before. Not anyone who wasn’t on the job. That he wanted to help clean up the streets of Chicago was very cool. Very me.

He tilted my chin and brushed his lips over mine. “Anytime you need me…”

“I’ll just whistle.” Moving away, I holstered my gun and secured it at the small of my back. “Don’t wait for me. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“I got that.”

I could tell he wasn’t happy, but at least he wasn’t arguing. Knowing when to leave things alone, I booked out of there without looking back.

Watching her go out the door, Jake wondered at Shelley’s reluctance to let him get closer to her. Not physically, but emotionally. She seemed happy the way things were, and he wanted to take their relationship deeper. They were so right for each other, maybe a lifetime-together kind of right. He’d thought she’d gotten over the part-vampire thing.

Apparently not.

Maybe there was more to her not wanting to live with him. Shelley was off tonight…not only the tension he sensed, but the scent she’d carried into the apartment. Taking a deep whiff of her jacket had put his nerves on edge. He was still walking a narrow emotional line and not just because he hadn’t had his way with Shelley. The scent on her jacket had been familiar…but not. Oddly, it made him think he should recognize the smell, that it belonged to someone he should know.

Someone from his past?

He sorted through memories, trying to pin the scent to a time and place, but he simply couldn’t get it.

No time to obsess over it now.

The feelings the scent roused were so disturbing that, despite Shelley’s not wanting his help—despite the fact that she kept him from everyone and everything in her professional and private life except her sister—Jake felt compelled to follow her, to find out what was going on first hand.

He listened and waited for her car to start before leaving the apartment. He had the address. He could probably beat her there.

Shelley wouldn’t like it.

But she wouldn’t have to know.

Pulling into the morgue parking lot, I tried in vain to lighten my thoughts. Death wasn’t pretty and murder victims decidedly less so.

I entered and showed my star to the night security. “Detective Mike Norelli? The Martin woman?”

The man directed me to the room, but rather than going in, I stayed on the viewing side of the glass. Norelli was still with the M.E., his back to the victim.

Despite myself, I had to look.

Julie Martin lay on a slab, a sheet covering most of her. Except her face. I hadn’t been able to see it before, when her head had been turned away from me. Not now. Now I could see everything. Her eyes were glassy, her face contorted, her mouth open in what looked like a primal scream. The horror of knowing she was going to die stamped in her pretty features. Rigor had set in and I imagined the only way to close her mouth would be to break her jaw.

Another “photograph” that I would take to the grave with me.

“What are you doing standing out here?”

I started when I realized Mike Norelli was standing next to me. “Waiting for you.”

“You couldn’t come in?”

“Is there something I need to see that I can’t see from here?”

Norelli glanced through the glass. He frowned and shook his head. For a brief moment, I recognized that he was as affected by the sight of the dead woman as I was. Wow. Norelli was human, after all.

“So what did you get?” he asked.

“Humboldt Park.” I handed him the slip of paper with Sebastian’s address on it. “How about you?”

“I got us a judge.”

“The Martin woman is…was…a judge?”

“Not her. Her older brother. Bobby Rafferty.”

“Judge Bobby Rafferty?” My mind roiled at the information. We had a heater on our hands.

“I got it from the neighbor. Apparently the husband is out of town on business until tomorrow.”

“Were you able to confirm that?”

“At this time of night—what do you think?”

So we would have to do that during business hours. Once we found out what business Joseph Martin was in.

“This can’t be a coincidence.” Dreading what was to come, I locked my gaze with Norelli’s. “Rafferty was the judge on the Hernandez case.”

“Where does the ‘not a coincidence’ part come in?”

“Sebastian Cole collects donations for his performances. The donations go to help people who have been denied justice. Last night’s donations went to Benita Rivera, sister of Hernandez’s victim, so she could pursue the case.”

“Well, then, let’s see what Cole has to say about that.”

We walked out to the parking lot together, but when I headed for my Camaro, Norelli said, “You can ride with me.”

Oh, hell. The last thing I wanted was to leave my car at the morgue. “I think I’ll drive myself.”

“What, you got a problem with my driving?”

“It’s not that.” I glanced over my shoulder at the building.

“Ah, superstitious, huh? Okay, follow me out and we’ll find some place to leave your vehicle.”

Arguing wouldn’t score me any points with Norelli, so I simply nodded and got into my car. The jumpy feeling was back. Instinct made me take a good look around, but I didn’t see anything out of place.

I followed Norelli to Ashland Avenue where he headed for the north side. Just after passing the Chicago Avenue intersection, he pulled over to the curb. I pulled right behind him, next to an empty meter, and locked up. Ironic since, when he let me off later, I’d be close to home but wouldn’t have the chance to get there. I’d be working the homicide late into the night.

After climbing into his car and settling down, I said, “We have another complication.”

As Norelli took off, I explained about the attempted robbery earlier that evening, how the offenders had been taken off in a paddy wagon only to escape, with one showing up at the murder scene.

“You’re sure it was the same guy?”

“Hey, I would recognize Snake Eyes anywhere.”

“Good,” he said, turning west, “because chances are he has a record and we have his mug.”

“I figured I would take a look as soon as I got back to the office.”

“So the same guy who tried robbing the donations then shows up at a crime scene of a murder having a peculiar similarity to Sebastian’s escape?”

“It could be a coincidence.”

“What’s your gut tell you?”

“The same as yours. Not a chance in hell.”

“You got potential, Caldwell.”

As close to a compliment as I probably would ever get from Mike Norelli.

“This Sebastian guy…sounds like he’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

Uh-oh. “You don’t think he’s guilty though, right?” I didn’t think the escape and murder similarities were coincidence, but I also didn’t think that necessarily made Sebastian a murderer.

“If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”

I glanced at his profile. His features had hardened as if he’d convinced himself that Sebastian was indeed guilty. My stomach knotted.

What if Norelli looked at Silke as an accomplice?