Killer Love (20 page)

He meandered through the room toward the bar, looking for Jade as he zigzagged through the crowd. He spotted her sitting on a bar stool and made his way to her side.

She didn’t notice him at first. She sat staring straight ahead, a Corona gripped between her hands like a lifeline. She wore blue jeans and a red lacy blouse. Her hair hung loose, the pink and blue neon lights giving it a purplish hue.

Their eyes met in the mirror behind the bar and her lips tightened into a thin line. She whirled toward him.

“What are you doing? Still following me?”

“Just passing by,” he replied casually. “Thought a cold one sounded good.”

“Right.”

She turned away from him and lifted the Corona to her lips Her movements were slow and deliberate. Her eyes were glassy and her words slurred. He had a feeling that wasn’t her first beer.

Luke ordered an O’Doul’s. It looked like he might be her designated driver for the evening. He didn’t want to be impaired along with her.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” He raised his voice to be heard above the music.

“I’ve done a lot of things lately I don’t do.”

She brushed her hair back, revealing the bruise on her cheek, stark and vivid against her pale skin. Who the hell had done that to her? His hands ached to get a hold of the bastard, whoever he was.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“What could be wrong? I mean, my homicidal husband wants me dead. I’m living in a strange town with a new identity and no friends or family. I’ve got an FBI agent breathing down my neck just waiting for me to make a wrong move. Could things be any better?”

“I don’t know, but they could be worse. You could be dead.”

She shrugged. “Would that really be worse?”

Damn, she was on a self-pity trip tonight. What had happened? He sipped his O’Doul’s as she finished off her Corona and ordered another.

“How many of those have you had?” He nodded toward the fresh beer.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but this is only my second.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. My second Corona, that is. I started with strawberry daiquiris but they were too sweet. That cowboy down there bought me a Corona and I liked it so I ordered another.” She pointed down the bar but there were so many cowboys in the general direction she indicated, he wasn’t sure which one had bought her the beer.

“You like country music?” she asked suddenly.

The change in topic threw him off. “It’s okay.” He shrugged.

“I like it. Especially when I’m down. They really know how to hurt, you know? You can feel it in your soul...in your bones.”

His gaze met hers and in her eyes he saw deep misery, a pain that was almost palpable. Quietly, he asked, “What’s hurting you tonight, Jenna?”

Her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away angrily, then took a deep breath, looked down, then back up at him. Her expression was like that of a puppy that’d been kicked a few too many times.

“Did you see the news?” she finally asked, her voice low.

“News? I guess not.”

“The girl who was found murdered in St. Louis at Senator Bomar’s house?”

He’d seen the report in his hotel room but hadn’t paid much attention. “Yeah. I did see that. What about it?”

“It was Bryce.”

“What? How do you know?”

“Senator Bomar’s daughter, Melanie, is my best friend. Bryce left the girl’s body there to send me a message. Show me how close he can get to the people I love.”

“That’s quite a leap, don’t you think?”

Her mouth stretched into a grimace. She took a sip of her beer and shook her head. “Oh no, not at all. I didn’t tell you the best part. You know how the girl was nude except for a necklace?”

“Yeah.”

Her fingers made circles in the condensation on the bottle. She spoke so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. “The necklace is mine.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Bryce bought it for me for our first anniversary. I left it behind. He’s sending me a message. It’s my fault that girl died.” Her voice choked and she took another long pull from the bottle.

Luke didn’t know what to say. Of course it hadn’t been her fault, but he could understand why she’d feel that way. “I need to make a quick phone call. I’ll be back in a second. Will you be okay?”

“I don’t need you to babysit me. I’m fine.”

“Just sit tight. I’ll be right back.” He wasn’t sure she’d listen to him but he needed to step outside to make the call. No way in hell could he hear well enough to call from inside.

Luke walked out front, at least that way he could see if she tried to leave. She had no business driving tonight.

He dialed Wayne’s phone. When his friend answered, Luke said, “That body found at Senator Bomar’s, I’m pretty sure DiMarco did her.”

“What the hell? You sure?”

“Yeah, I think so. Jade said she and Bomar’s daughter are best friends. Plus, the necklace on the body belonged to Jade. I’d say it’s a pretty sure bet.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll get right on it. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m hanging in. You’ll let me know if you come up with anything, right?”

“Sure. Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, man.” Luke went back inside. Jade was still at the bar.

She glanced at him and turned back to her beer.

“You need to call the Marshal’s office,” he told her. “Let them know about your suspicions.”

“I already did. They offered to place Mel and her family under protection but there’s no way they’ll agree.”

She tilted the beer to her mouth. Her nipples strained against the lacy fabric of the red blouse. Breath stuttered in his throat...he almost groaned out loud as he shifted on the barstool, willing away the tightening in his groin. He looked away quickly, focusing on the lime bobbing up and down in the neck of the bottle with each pull of those moist, tempting lips.

“Hey,” he said a bit too harshly. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough? Maybe it’s time to go home.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“I think you are. You’re not accustomed to drinking and it looks to me like you’ve reached your limit.”

She wagged a finger in his face. “Listen here, mister, you’re not my boss.”

He expelled a breath. “The last thing you need right now is more booze.”

“No. The last thing I need is you telling me what the fuck to do.”

“It’s not going to help anything.”

“It already has. I never knew it before, but drinking makes the pain a little easier to bear.” She held a hand in front of her face. “It makes the dark not so dark.”

“It’s going to be okay.” His tone softened. “We’ll find him.”

“After he finds how many more victims?” She rested her elbows on the bar and cradled her head in her hands. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“It’s time to get you out of here.”

“I’m fine,” she slurred, eyes still closed.

Luke took her by the elbow and helped her from the barstool. She didn’t protest. They weaved through the crowd and outside into the fresh, cold air. He led her to his car and helped her inside, fastening her seatbelt for her.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, into the increasingly worsening blizzard, she laid her head back on the seat.

He thought she’d passed out but in a few moments, she spoke. “You got any kids, Butler?”

“I have a five-year old daughter, Samantha. She lives with my ex-wife in Atlanta.”

“Yeah? You miss her?”

“All the time.”

“Why aren’t you with her?”

Where the hell had this line of questioning come from? He answered a little defensively. “She lives with her mother in another state. My job keeps me busy. I see her as often as I can.”

She nodded. “Yeah. That’s as good an excuse as any.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just wondered who’s protecting your little girl while you’re out saving the world.”

A rush of anger swept through his veins but was quickly replaced by guilt. She’d just verbalized the exact thing that had ended his marriage and caused him to lose his daughter. He didn’t have a response. He kept his attention on the road, not wanting to discuss his personal life with her.

After a few moments of silence passed, he glanced over. Her eyes were closed. Maybe now she was finally out.

No such luck.

“My Dad was like you,” she told him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He was a cop, too. All that mattered was the job. Not me, not his family. He didn’t have anything to do with me until a few years after my mom died. Then, we sort of made up.” She gave a harsh laugh. “He thought I was the greatest daughter in the world when I married Bryce. Who knew marrying a psycho is all it would take to make my Dad love me?”

Luke said nothing...wanting to comfort her yet at the same time wanting her to stop this soul wrenching confession. Hearing the words was like a physical blow. Knowing how much she’d suffered, how much she was still suffering, was hard to take.

She continued into the darkened silence as street lights shone through the window, casting shadows on her face that looked like tears.

“My Dad and I didn’t speak for a few years before Mom died, or for several years after.”

“Not even at the funeral?”

“I didn’t go to the funeral.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” she said simply and without emotion, “I hated my mother.”

He waited for her to say more but she didn’t. They arrived at her apartment and he parked, then helped her out of the car. She was unsteady on her feet so he held her upright, arm around her waist while he led her up the stairs and to the apartment. She fumbled for her key and after a few attempts, unlocked the door.

He led her into the bedroom. “You need to take some Ibuprofen. You’ll feel better in the morning if you do. It also wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something.”

“I can’t eat, no way. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’ve never drank then you can’t imagine what’s in store for you in the morning. You’re going to wish you’d listened to me.”

She shook her head and fell backwards on top of the bedspread. He wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t leave her here to pass out on top of the covers, fully clothed. He knelt down and slipped the shoes off her feet.

“Here, let me help you get under the blankets.” He reached for her hand and pulled her up. She stumbled against him and his arms went around her.

Her head fell on his shoulder and his body tightened. She smelled like booze and cigarettes, yet he still wanted her.

He held onto her with one arm while he turned the covers back. The blouse she wore didn’t look very comfortable. He noticed that underneath she wore a silky tank looking thing. Surely it would be safe to help her off with the blouse and leave the tank thing on.

“You might want to slip your blouse off.” He tried to keep his tone neutral but the image those words invoked made it difficult.

She plopped down on the edge of the bed and began fumbling with the buttons. Her fingers weren’t working so he helped, quickly undoing the pearl buttons while trying to ignore the way her warm body felt against his hands. His finger twitched, and he was overcome with the urge to flick it across her nipple. Taking a deep breath, he looked away as he slipped the blouse off her shoulders. Now for the jeans.

Hell, no. She could sleep in those. There was only so much a man could take.

Once her blouse was off, she lay back and he started to pull the covers over her.

“Hold on,” she murmured. “I can’t sleep with jeans on.”

Damn. He was afraid of that. She was on her own there. He waited while she fumbled with the button and zipper. Unable to watch her slip the jeans over her hips, he went into the bathroom in search of Ibuprofen. He found it, filled a cup with water and when he thought it was safe, returned to the bedroom.

Big mistake.

She was lying on her side, one knee up, her hands under her chin. She wore nothing but the silky tank thing and panties.

Pink, cotton panties.

Nothing sexy about cotton panties, right?

Wrong. Somehow, the simplicity of them made her look vulnerable and so very hot. He reached for the covers and pulled them over her.

“Stay with me ‘til I sleep?” she mumbled.

“Okay,” Luke agreed, oddly reluctant yet at the same time eager. He sat on the edge of the bed. On the very edge, so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her.

“Did you love her?”

“Who?” he asked, a little annoyed that she still wanted to chat. He figured she’d be passed out by now.

She turned over and looked at him, resting one arm behind her head. For the first time, he noticed a sprinkling of freckles across her shoulders. She also had a few on her nose. He’d never thought of freckles as sexy until now.

Jesus, you’ve got it bad when cotton panties and freckles are a turn-on.

“Your partner. The woman Bryce murdered.”

His heart pounded. He didn’t want to discuss Delia with her. He didn’t want to talk to her at all. He needed to get the hell out of here. “I loved her, yes. But not romantically. We were very close. She was a good agent, a great person.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had anything to do with the monster who took her life.”

Luke nodded. She gazed up at him, emotion deepening her eyes to a dark green.

It was right then that he knew. His cop instinct finally kicked in. Jade DiMarco was innocent. There was no way she would have been involved with an evil piece of shit like DiMarco.

So, what did that mean as far as staying in Solitaire? What did he do now? Not a clue, not a lead. Not a damn thing to point to where the bastard was hiding. Obviously, he was still near St. Louis if he’d actually murdered that girl. Maybe he’d had someone else do the dirty work and he was miles away. Maybe the agents back home would find him. Maybe not.

“He’s never going to stop is he?” her voice lowered to a whisper. “You’re never going to find him.”

Surprised that her words mirrored his thoughts, he answered, even though he wasn’t sure he believed it anymore. “Yes. We’ll find him.”

Her eyes drifted shut and she murmured, “Thank you for saying that. Thanks for taking care of me.”

He felt something loosening in his chest. Something that went way past desire and was more than just sympathy. A feeling for Jade that had no place in their current circumstances, a feeling he would have to control.