KCPD Protector (13 page)

Knowing he had everything he needed to do his job, just like at the office, Elise left him to his work.

This time, she braced herself for the wind when she opened the back door and whistled. “Spike? Come on in, boy.”

Lightning flashed in the clouds overhead, lighting up the backyard for a split second. She waited in the doorway for several seconds before whistling again. “Here, boy!”

Thunder rumbled in ominous portent of the coming storm. “Spike?”

Normally, the dog ran in as soon as she called, anxious to be rewarded with a treat or a tummy rub. Maybe the wind was carrying her voice away from him. But that’s what those sharp ears were for, weren’t they? “Spike? I’ve got a treat.”

Lightning strobed within the clouds, briefly illuminating the trail of tiny red paw prints crossing back and forth across the deck. Elise shivered with the answering thunder. Where was the dog? “Spike!”

She ran to the railing and peered into the shadows beyond the deck. She heard a snuffling noise off to her right and caught a glimpse of movement beneath the spirea bushes. “Spike?”

Elise hurried off the deck. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

The dog was digging furiously in the dirt. She dropped to her knees and reached beneath the bushes. She slipped her palm beneath his chest, intending to lift him away from the prize he was burying. But when she touched his warm belly, she felt something wet and sticky in his hair. “Sweetie?”

She pulled back her hand. The lightning flashed.

Blood.

Elise screamed.

Throwing herself belly down in the grass, she reached beneath the bush to grab her beloved pet and pull him into her arms.

“Elise!”

She heard loud steps on the deck behind her. Elise rolled onto her bottom, cradling Spike in her arms, stroking his back, checking every limb. He scooted up her chest to lick her chin. His heart thumped rapidly beneath her hands. But there was enough blood to turn his black coat a muddy brown. “Sweetie, what happened? Where are you hurt?”

“Elise? Damn it. I told you not to go outside.” She saw the silhouette of a man with a gun in her peripheral vision and instantly recoiled. A light swept through the backyard, but the bright beam settled on the bundle in her arms and George was kneeling beside her. “What happened?”

Recognizing their savior, she grabbed a handful of George’s T-shirt and pulled him closer, leaving a red handprint on the cotton, and probably one on her own cheek, too, as she wiped away tears. “We have to help him. That creep’s done something to Spike. There’s so much blood.”

George tucked the gun into the back of his belt and cupped his hand beneath her elbow to help her stand. “Come on. We have to get you back in the house. Wait a minute.” He swung the flashlight to the ground and went down on one knee. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from the dirt where Spike had been burying it. “What the hell?”

Elise tugged on George’s belt. “Hurry. We have to get him to the vet.”

“Right. Inside.” With the first drops of rain pelting them, they ran back into the house.

Elise went straight to the kitchen, snatching her purse off the counter and heading for the front door. “Can you drive? You’re parked behind me.”

“Elise, wait.” George met her in the foyer, pushing the door she’d just opened shut and turning on the light overhead.

She reached for the knob, but George blocked her path. “Damn it, George, he could go into shock.”

He swiped a finger across the stain on his shirt, then touched it to his tongue and spat it out. “Let me see the dog.”

“Fine. I’ll drive.” She gently lay Spike in George’s arms and pulled out her keys. But he still wouldn’t budge.

“He’s not hurt. It’s red paint. Like your front door. Honey, it’s paint. He’s fine.” Spike braced his front paw on George’s chest, leaving two more prints. George pulled each leg up and squeezed his paws. There was no squeal of pain, no sign of lethargy, no visible wounds. “See? Just four dirty paws in need of a bath.”

“I don’t understand.” She dropped her purse on the floor and swept her hands over the dog, petting, double-checking. Elise’s world rocked on its axis. She’d been so certain Spike was hurt, so devastated that the man from the Plaza had abused her pet, maybe even tried to kill her most loyal friend. But now it was some kind of sick joke? “How did he get into the paint? I keep it in the garage when I’m not using it. And I haven’t had the red out for months.” She pulled a torn shred of paper from the clasp on Spike’s collar. “What’s this?”

George folded his hand around hers, heedless of the paint they were transferring. “I need you to sit down.”

“Why?” She looked up into George’s eyes. Lightning flashed through the windows behind him, and he didn’t so much as blink. He knew something. “What is it? Did he do this to Spike? Was he here?”

He nodded toward the stairs. “Sit.”

“No. Tell me.” She saw the dusty piece of paper stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans. Elise pulled it out before he guessed her intent.

“Elise.”

“This was attached to Spike’s collar.” The torn scrap in her hand fit the missing corner of the paper the dog had been burying in the yard. She read the note. Elise’s world swayed and George’s strong hand guided her to the stairs where he sank down beside her on the second step. The last bit of fight left in her surrendered.

Next time, the blood will be real. You should have listened to me. I don’t want to hurt you or the things you love, but I need you to understand how much you hurt me. I saw you kiss him. I can forgive you a second time. But never again. You and I have something special. Once we are together, I’ll make you understand.

I Love You, Elise.

A boom of lightning shook the walls, but she barely heard it. “Here.” She pushed the note into George’s hand. “This is evidence. You’ll need to give it to your nephew. I assume you’ll be calling him.”

“Elise?”

She had nothing left. No energy. No hope. No fear. No memory of love or happiness or relief or regret. There was work to do and responsibilities to manage. But she felt...nothing.

She scooped Spike from George’s arms and hugged him against her chest. “Give him to me. I’ll go start a bath.”

* * *

G
EORGE
STOOD
IN
the darkness on the second-floor landing, looking through the doorway into Elise’s bedroom to watch her sleep. Or try to, at least.

She’d left the lamp on beside her bed and was dozing in fitful starts on top of the quilt, touching the dog, who rested against the curve of her stomach, each time she awoke. Even the storm that cocooned the house in a steady drumbeat of rain and cooled the humid temperatures to a tolerable level couldn’t coax her into a restful slumber.

He wasn’t in much better shape. It was tearing him up inside to see her like this—a pale, numbed automaton who couldn’t even dredge up a smile for the spoiled mutt she loved so much.

George had changed into the button-down shirt he’d worn earlier in the day and tossed his paint-stained T-shirt into a plastic bag in case there was any useful evidence on it the department could use. He scraped his palm over the stubble of his late-night beard, masking a weary sigh before turning to his nephew. “Has the storm washed away any chance of finding this bastard?”

“There’s no trail to follow. No cars in the neighborhood that don’t belong here.” Although he’d hung his KCPD rain slicker on the hook inside Elise’s back door to dry, Nick’s wet hair was slicked to his scalp and dripping tiny dark circles on the shoulders of his black T-shirt. “I bagged the paint can I found under the bushes. It’s the same brand as the others in the garage.”

George suspected as much. “He probably took that, too, when he broke in before.”

“I’ll have Annie check the can and the letter at the lab.” Like George’s, Nick’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “There were depressions in the grass that looked like shoe prints—bigger than mine. Looks like he came into the yard through the side gate.” Nick tucked his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. “I took a picture of the shoe prints, but anything else out there is a puddle of mud now. He probably lured the dog out to him with the treats we found underneath those white-flowered bushes, then attached the note to his collar and dumped the paint on him to freak her out.”

“It worked. She’s exhausted, but she wouldn’t take a sedative.” Elise was lying in there in the same baggy paint shirt and cutoff shorts she’d had on earlier. Spike had been thoroughly bathed and was drying off on her clothes and quilt top. “She just wants to hold the dog.”

Nick squeezed a hand over George’s shoulder. “Well, then you try to get some rest. I’m parked out front. I’ll keep an eye on things for a while. I called Spencer, too.” Nick’s partner had just been promoted to lieutenant and would probably be moving into more administrative duties like George soon. But until then, he couldn’t think of two better detectives to back him up on any case. “Spence is going to track down where Alexsandr Titov and Westbrook have been this evening. He’s coming over after that, too, to help keep an eye on things. We’ll make sure nothing else happens tonight.”

“Thanks, Nick.” George tore his watchful gaze away from Elise long enough to give his nephew a hug. “Tell Spencer thanks, too.”

After patting each other’s backs, Nick pulled away. “Spence asked me why you didn’t call him in sooner. He thinks of you like family and would have volunteered his time on this investigation in a heartbeat.”

George shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and nodded. “I know. At first I was trying to respect Elise’s request to stay out of it. When I realized I had to get involved, that I was losing her to these mind games, I knew we were short staffed and I couldn’t assign anyone to an unofficial case—not with tempers so high around the department and money so tight.” His shoulders lifted with a weary sigh. “And maybe part of me wanted to see if I could still be the cop I needed to be without calling in any favors at all.”

“I don’t see you missing a beat, old man. The evidence we’ve got against this guy is starting to stack up. Terroristic threats, attempted kidnapping, burglary. All we need is the perp to match that DNA to, and you can put this guy away for a long time.”

George grunted a wry laugh. “All we need...”

Another beat of silence passed. “You want to tell me again how this isn’t personal for you?”

George glanced down at the young detective beside him. Maybe not so young anymore, because Nick’s instincts were right on target. “It’s personal.”

After a decisive nod, Nick headed down the stairs like a man on a mission, disappearing into the darkness of the house’s first floor. A few seconds later, George heard the downpour of rain and rumbles of thunder when the front door opened and locked again, leaving him and Elise alone in the house.

George stood there in the shadows several seconds longer, absorbing the quiet of the rain and the night, letting Mother Nature’s healing power seep into his blood and smooth the rough edges of his protective anger before he moved to stand in Elise’s doorway. From the bandages on her bare toes to the waves of dark hair that had kinked up with the rain and fanned over the pillow behind her head, Elise Brown was a thing of beauty. He’d probably been half in love with her for a long time. But the rules and regulations had never let him think of her as anything more than the woman his office couldn’t live without.

Now he was trying to resolve himself to the fact that he, the man, couldn’t live without her, either.

“I could hear you out there, talking.” Elise’s voice was soft, but not drowsy. Still, she never lifted her head from the pillow. “Is Nick going to stay?”

George stepped into the room, winking to the dog when he raised his head. Spike settled right back down against Elise, as if the dog was smart enough to know what the reassurance meant, or he was simply that comfortable with having George around. “He’s parked out front. He and his partner will watch the house tonight.”

“Good. I hope you can get some sleep, then.”

She still had her back to him, but George wasn’t making any secret of his intent. He untied his shoes and toed them off. “Neither one of us can afford another night without much sleep.”

“I know.”

He unhooked his belt and removed his gun and badge, setting them all on the table beside her bed before turning off the lamp.

“I’m not sleeping next door, Elise.” He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his palm on the curve of her hip. The fact that she didn’t startle at his touch spoke to her fatigue. Or maybe to something else.

“I don’t want you that far away. I need you to stay.”

“I need to stay,” he echoed in unison.

At last, she rolled onto her back and looked at him. In the flashes of light from the storm outside, he could see the crystallized remnants of tears that had dried on her skin. “Don’t be my boss tonight, okay? Just be George Madigan.”

With a nod, he lay down beside her on top of the quilt. She turned onto her side and he circled his arm around her waist, pulling her close, spooning her back against his chest. Her bottom nestled against his groin and their legs tangled together. George found a comfortable spot for his head on her pillow, and wrapped both Elise and her dog in his arms.

A shared sigh of rightness, of finally being where they needed to be, merged them tightly together, with only the clothes they wore keeping them apart. “I want to fight this guy, George,” Elise whispered. “But I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

“Tomorrow you will be. We’ll both be strong enough.”

George kissed her neck, then buried his nose in the silk of her hair and let sleep claim them both.

Chapter Nine

Elise pushed her hair off her face and opened her eyes to the sunshine glowing behind the curtains on her windows. The deep, dreamless sleep was hard to shake off, and it took her a few moments to orient herself.

Her bedroom.

The sun was up.

Rain stopped.

Heat wave had returned.

Her arms were empty.

Instantly waking to full alertness, she patted the bed beside her. “Spike?”

“Shh. He’s okay.”

When she tried to roll over, the vise around her waist anchored her in place. But the deep whisper against her ear was clear—as was the explanation for her body being so toasty warm.

“Don’t worry.” George’s lips stirred the hair at her nape. His husky morning voice hummed into her ear. “Nick is walking him outside. I had him give Spike some fresh water and food, too.”

Spike was okay. She could drift back to sleep.

Or not.

Was there a cell in her body that wasn’t suddenly aware of the man holding her?

George was spooned against her back. She could feel his chest pushing into her with every breath. She felt soft denim against the bare skin of her leg, his muscular thigh draped over both of hers, their toes touching.

His hand was tucked possessively beneath her shirt, his fingertips teasing the elastic that curved beneath her breast, her palm layered over his on the outside of the old cotton shirt that still smelled faintly of wet dog. Even now, she matched her fingers to his, as if she’d welcomed the intimacy of his warm hand on her skin and was holding on to keep him from moving away.

Had they slept together like this all night?

Elise pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was that much of a cuddler.”

“I’m not complaining.” When she shifted to put some proper distance between them, his fingers splayed across her belly and his grip tightened. “But don’t move for a couple of seconds, okay?”

“Need a minute to wake up?” She studied the sunshine creeping in behind the curtains to warm her delicately striped wallpaper. “It’s going to be hot again today. After only one night of rain. It’ll probably make the humidity even worse. I wonder if we’ll get those storms the weatherman predicted today.” When she realized she was rambling like a nervous schoolgirl, she reminded herself she was a full-grown woman and should start acting like it. With her brain more awake than it had been a minute ago, she started considering the possible reasons for George’s request. Her first instinct had her tugging at his wrist and trying to sit up. “I’m sorry. Did your arm go to sleep? I’ve been lying on it all night, haven’t—?”

“Elise—”

“Is something wrong...?” But her squirming only drove her bottom into the juncture between his thighs and she felt the unmistakable bulge of his arousal butting against her. Elise went still. “Oh.”

But suddenly, every nerve in her body tingled in anticipation, chasing away the last dregs of her heavy sleep.

George moved his hand to the jut of her hip to gently force a little distance between them. “I don’t know if I was trying to save you from embarrassment. Or me. Nothing has to happen. I just need a minute to...get comfortable again.”

“You don’t want something to happen?”

His chest-deep groan stirred the hair at her nape. He pressed a soft nip to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and every eager nerve seemed to rush to the spot. “This is what we need to discuss,” he whispered against her skin, his very breath another caress that raised goose bumps across her skin. “Oh, I don’t just mean the obvious reaction I’m having to you. But how good we are when we’re together. At the office. As friends. When we’re close like this. Somewhere along the line, you turned being indispensable into being...irresistible.”

Elise reached down to lace her fingers together with the hand on her hip. “I thought you were the irresistible one.”

“Now you’re just stroking an old man’s ego.”

A touch of ire blended with the desire waking inside her. Keeping their fingers entwined, she lifted his hand from her shorts and carefully adjusted herself to roll over onto her back and look up into gray eyes that had darkened into granite this morning. “I wouldn’t do that. One, I don’t see an old anything—I just see a man. And two, you said you’d always be honest with me. It goes both ways, George. Why wouldn’t you expect me to be honest with you? I always thought you were...” She cupped the side of his jaw, rubbing her palm against his morning beard stubble that was a handsome mosaic of tawny, dark brown and silver. What was the right word?
Distinguished? Powerful?
“...sexy.”

He propped himself up on his elbow beside her, arching an eyebrow in doubt. “Explain.”

She lifted her fingers to trace the eyebrow’s curve. She traced the straight line of his nose and the square shape of his jaw before sliding across the impeccable sculpt of his lips. His hand slipped beneath her shirt again, settling at the nip of her waist while she explored each compelling angle.

“You’re confident. Accomplished. So comfortable in your own skin. Do you have any idea how empowering, how hot it is to have a man like you interested in someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” His voice had dropped a note in pitch, grown husky.

Her gaze lowered to the placket of his shirt where she unhooked one button, then two, blazing a trail along skin that was rough, smooth, ticklish and always warm beneath her fingertips. “Anyone else would think I’ve gone nuts these past few days, but you keep saying you believe me.”

“I do. I’ve seen the evidence of his cruelty.”

“I’m complicated, George.” She loosed another button and slipped her hand beneath the cotton to palm the firm plane of his chest and feel the muscles quiver beneath her touch. “I’m so worried about making mistakes and hurting someone I care about again that I stop relationships before they have a chance to begin.” She inhaled his uniquely clean, masculine scent and got a whiff of something else that made her blush. “And I smell like dog shampoo this morning.”

He laughed, catching her hand before she could pull it away, holding it against the taut male nipple and the beating heart underneath. “Maybe I think Eau de Spike is hot.”

It was Elise’s turn to laugh. She was shaking with the freedom of his honest humor, loving how the shared laughter eased the lines of stress on his face, when he dipped his head and stopped up her laughter with a kiss.

Instantly, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Humor gave way to hunger as Elise wound her arms around George’s neck and he pulled her more firmly into the heat of his body. By heaven, did this man know how to kiss. Tenderly. Passionately. Seductively.

He wasn’t bad with his hands, either. While his lips roamed over her jaw and earlobe and temple, he unbuttoned the front of her paint shirt and spread it open on top of the quilt. His mouth followed the path of his fingers, touching, tasting, stroking, praising as his sandpapery beard tickled and his warm tongue soothed.

“You have such soft hair.” He nuzzled her ear, pushed aside the worn collar and teased the sensitive bundle of nerves at the base of her throat. “These long legs? Let’s just say I’m glad you like to wear dresses.” He squeezed her bottom and drew his hand along her thigh as he kissed his way down to the curve of her breast. “You have miles of cool, creamy skin that I can’t seem to stop touching.”

“I won’t stop you.” Elise pushed his shirt off his shoulders, ran her fingers through his silky, sleep-rumpled hair, touched whatever she could reach. He was all hot, all muscle, all man.

He squeezed her breast and captured the beaded tip in his mouth, wetting the lace of her bra and making her ache to feel his tongue on her skin. “Don’t tempt me.”

Elise curled a leg around the back of his, pulling his weight partially on top of her. “Would this help?”

George lifted his head, squeezed his eyes shut and groaned before levering himself above her and rubbing his hard thigh against the seam of her shorts. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and held on as shock waves of desire rushed straight to her core at the feel of him there.

His eyes were dark with passion when they opened again. Every muscle in his body was rigid with the effort to retreat. “Ah, hell, Elise, I want to be inside you so badly I can’t think straight.”

She gradually found her voice again. “Then don’t think. I want the same thing. It feels right.”

He dropped a kiss on her tender lips. “Yeah, but, honey, I haven’t done this for a while. I’m a little out of practice.”

“Your parts all work, don’t they?”

“Obviously.” The pressure nudging between her thighs left no doubt of that. “But my style—”

“I don’t need style, George. I need you.” She worked the last buttons of his shirt free and found the snap of his jeans. His skin quivered beneath her hands as she gently unzipped him. “I need the man who always tells me the truth. The man I never have to doubt. Please. Just...”

“Just what?”

She paused with her hands at his hips, pushing his jeans and shorts out of her way. “Take me away from this nightmare for a while. Make me feel normal and healthy and brave.”

“Brave?” He stroked her hair off her forehead.

“Brave enough to feel something and want someone—and not be afraid that there’s a penalty attached to caring.” She thought she’d feel a hesitation, an inner voice warning her to stop. But everything about this moment felt right. Everything about George felt right. “I need to know what it’s like for a real, flesh and blood man to want me. Just for me. That is what you want, right?”

With a nod, he lowered his mouth to reclaim hers. “No hidden agenda. No conditions. Just you. I want you.”

And then there was an eager bumping of hands and limbs as she helped George shuck his jeans and briefs, and he pulled her shorts and panties off to join them on the floor. He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and pushed it aside before squeezing and tonguing the sensitive tips into throbbing, tight beads. Elise mimicked the same exploration on him, loving the musky smell of his skin as she found each taut male nipple with her lips.

They were still half dressed on top when George pushed his hand down between her thighs and palmed the pressure building there. She bucked beneath the force of his hand, and bucked again when he slid two fingers inside to test her slick readiness for him.

“George,” she gasped as she raised her knees and he settled himself between them. “Now.”

He cursed against her breast, then kissed the spot. Apologized. “I don’t have any protection.”

She wrapped her legs around him, holding his hips in the cradle of hers when he would have pulled away. “I’m on the pill. Do you have any health issues?”

“No. You?”

“No.” She caught his face between her hands and lifted her mouth to reclaim his. But he quickly took over the kiss, driving her back into the pillow, driving her weight into the bed, driving himself deeply inside her.

He held himself like that for several seconds while her body adjusted to welcome his, while her breasts pillowed beneath the weight of his chest, while her arms wound around him to hold him close.

“Are you good?” he whispered against her ear. She couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to feel again. “Elise?”

She nodded, tightened her legs around his buttocks to open herself more fully and urged him even deeper. Who needed sexy words or seductive style when a man’s desire for her was this straightforward, when he knew where to touch a woman. Where to kiss. What to... His fingers found that sensitive nub between them as he thrust inside her and she arched against him, gasping at the power of her release.

Elise soared to a place where the world made sense, where she was everything a woman should be, where the nightmare could no longer reach her, where she was safe, in George’s arms.

When he drove into her one last time with a husky groan and found his own release, she knew, without a doubt, that she loved this man—that anything she’d once felt for Quinn Gallagher or Nikolai Titov or even James Westbrook was a pale comparison to the humbling emotions George Madigan had awakened inside her. This was the right man, the only man, for her.

They collapsed into each other’s arms and dozed together, skin to skin, sated and whole, her energy spent, her spirit stronger than it had been for months. And yet, her future was still uncertain.

If only George wasn’t the one man she couldn’t have. Was she willing to lose the job that had given back her confidence and self-respect? Would George be willing to give her up at KCPD and let his office return to the slow-moving machine it had once been?

Did he even want the same things she wanted? Or was this blissful morning together a job perk for a man who would do his duty by her, but who wouldn’t appreciate the complications of an ongoing commitment outside of the office? Apparently, there was still a lot more of
this
they needed to discuss.

But later. If she had a later.

She snuggled closer to the heat and strength of George’s body, fearing this perfect morning might be the only one for them.

The alarm woke them a half hour later and the rest of the world demanded their attention again.

* * *

E
LISE
HAD
TURNED
on two lamps in her office, in addition to the overhead lights, to compensate for the turbulent gray clouds rolling in and blotting out the sun outside. With every bolt of lightning, the lights flickered. With every answering boom of thunder, she jumped inside her skin.

But as long as the power was on and her computer was working, she could finish typing the final draft of George’s banquet speech while he was on the phone with Commissioner Cartwright-Masterson. The commissioner’s daughter-in-law, Rebecca, had gone into labor during the night. With her son, Seth Cartwright, in the delivery room, and the rest of their extended family in the hospital waiting room, Rebecca had given birth to a daughter named Sydney.

Elise was glad for the numerous phone calls coming into the office, with meetings to reschedule, reporters to appease until an official statement could be issued, and friends and coworkers to update on the latest news from the top floors of KCPD headquarters. If she had any fewer calls to manage, any fewer reports to file, any fewer memos to send, she might have time to drive herself mad.