Night Moves: Dream Man/After the Night (80 page)

“Dane,” she said. The one word vibrated in the darkness.

He was sweating; she could see the sheen on his face whenever they met an oncoming vehicle. Heat was rolling off him in waves. Excitement coiled in her belly; he was almost out of control, in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Always before, even the first time, no matter how aroused he was, he had managed to hold himself back until she had been satisfied. He had wanted her before they had left the house, and the primal fury of the storm had only fed his hunger, just as it had awakened hers.

She wanted to ask him if he loved her, but the words wouldn’t come. He was with her here and now, and if sexual attraction was all he felt, she would find out all too soon. Since the present was all the time she was guaranteed, she decided to stop fretting and make the most of it. Wasn’t that what life was about anyway? Hadn’t she learned anything from all the pain, her own and others, she had experienced? No one made it through life without suffering. The trick was to make the most of the present, and enjoy the gifts of life as they were offered.

She reached out and gently trailed one finger along the crease between thigh and groin, feeling his muscles harden beneath her touch. His erection was like iron, pushing against the constraint of his pants. She stroked her finger up and down the length of it.

His breath hissed out between his teeth. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing,” she murmured, almost purring the words. “I’m very serious.” She delved her hand between his legs, and he groaned as involuntarily he shifted them apart. The car slowed, then he gathered himself and increased speed again.

“I can’t stop now,” he said with stifled violence. “There’s too much traffic.”

“See any interesting motels?” she asked, her tone absent as she concentrated on unbuckling his belt.

He shuddered, sucking in his breath to give her hands more room. He wanted her to stop, but at the same time he was helpless against the pleasure. “I don’t have any rubbers with me.” Except for their first night together, he had used a condom every time they made love. That first night, he hadn’t been able to think of anything except getting inside her. Privately he had been shocked at his own carelessness, which had never happened before, and since then had made damn sure it hadn’t happened again.

The solution of stopping at a drugstore occurred to her, but she dismissed it. She didn’t want the distraction, and he wasn’t in any shape to go shopping. “You’d better drive faster,” she said, just as she eased down his zipper and worked her hand inside his pants to close her fingers around his naked shaft.

A rough moan burst out of him. She savored the sound of it, just as she savored the feel of him throbbing in her hand. She knew that a few quick, hard pumps would finish it for him, so she deliberately kept her touch light, slow, and lingering. His face was set in taut lines as she snuggled closer and kissed the underside of his jaw. Her breasts were pressed against his muscled arm, and she could feel the fine tremor shaking it.

“You’re going to pay for this,” he warned.

She bit his earlobe. “Sounds interesting. Got any ideas?”

He had several, but none that could be enacted in the car. He only hoped he wasn’t stopped for speeding, because he
didn’t think there was any way in hell he could get his pants fastened. She continued to gently caress him, keeping him achingly hard. “Are you having fun?” His lungs were constricted, preventing him from speaking above a growl.

“Oodles.” Her tongue dipped briefly into his ear, and he shivered convulsively. “I’m not ready to stop, either. You just keep on driving.”

He did. He drove as he had never driven before, with a desperate concentration that still wasn’t enough to block out what she was doing to him. A rough laugh escaped his throat. “You little witch, you’re enjoying this.”

She gave him a slow, satisfied smile. “Of course I am. You usually drive
me
crazy. How does it feel to be on the receiving end?”

“Like I’m going to die,” he gasped.

She looked around and pinpointed their location. “We’ll be home in another five minutes. You can hold out that long, can’t you?” She continued caressing him, using every bit of knowledge she had about his body to enflame him further. She licked him very delicately.

He gasped again, his body going rigid. “Maybe.”

By the time they got home he was wild, his hips surging upward with every lingering stroke of her hand. He literally dragged her out of the car and into the house, where they stumbled into the bedroom, tearing and pulling at each other’s clothes. They were still half-clothed when they fell onto the bed. Dane managed to delay until he got a condom on, then he flipped her onto her stomach, kneed her legs apart, and drove into her with battering force.

Marlie dug her fingers into the bedcovers, her body shuddering under the force of his thrusts. She was as excited as if she had been the one so deliciously tormented. She lifted her buttocks, wriggling against him to take him deeper, though that didn’t seem possible. He groaned with every thrust, wild, guttural sounds that hung in the darkness of the night. And then his entire body tensed and he shoved
violently into her and held himself there, shuddering, hoarsely crying out his satisfaction as his climax shook him to the core.

Afterward he eased down to lie half beside her and half on her, his movements blind and uncoordinated, his big body trembling. His chest heaved as he struggled to get enough oxygen, and she could feel the force of his heartbeats thudding through his body. “Oh, God,” he wheezed. “That damn near killed me.”

“Really?” she murmured. “I thought you enjoyed it. But if you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again—”

He thrust his hand into her hair and turned her head so he could stop the words with a hard, forceful kiss. “I’ll try to bear up under the strain.”

“My hero,” she said, nipping at his lower lip, then returning for a deeper kiss.

A bass purr rumbled in his chest. He turned her in his arms and lifted himself to loom over her. “Now, lady, let’s see about you.”

He took care of that very well, leaving her exhausted, limp, and satiated. Afterward they lay together in the darkness, listening to the rain. She absently played with the curly hair on his chest. After a while she yawned and said, “Did you close the car door?”

He went still, thinking very hard. Then he said, “Oh, hell,” and heaved himself out of bed. She lay there giggling while he pulled on his pants and stumbled through the dark house. She heard the front door open, then close again a couple of seconds later. In another minute he came back into the bedroom. “Yes, I did, smart-ass,” he rumbled.

“Well, I didn’t remember.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t either.” He shucked his pants and crawled back into bed. He yawned as he gathered her close to him again, tucking her protectively into his embrace. “When this is over,” he murmured into her hair, “we’re both going to need a vacation. Which do you like, the mountains or the beach?”

Her heart gave a little skip of happiness. It was the first time he had said anything about a mutual future, even if it was something as casual as planning a vacation. “This is Florida,” she replied. “We can go to the beach anytime.”

“Mountains it is, then. We’ll rent a cabin with a hot tub, get naked, unwind, and shock the squirrels.”

“It’s a deal.”

The phone rang, and Dane stretched out his arm to get it. “Hollister,” he said lazily. Lying against him as she was, Marlie felt him tense. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. “Okay, okay, I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Try to keep the media from driving everyone into hysterics.”

He hung up the phone and turned on the lamp. “There’s been another slashing murder,” he said, hastily pulling on his clothes.

Marlie sat up, fear consuming her as she remembered earlier in the day when she had felt the killer searching for another victim. She and Dane had gone for that drive out of town; had they been so far away that she wouldn’t have been able to pick up the killer’s energy? Had he acted, after all, and somehow she hadn’t felt him?

W
HAT
’
S THE VICTIM
’
S NAME
?” D
ANE
asked, looking at the body as the police photographer snapped pictures from different angles.

It was a typical murder scene, if there was such a thing. The place was working like a beehive, and most of the people weren’t doing a damn thing except standing around. The house was crawling with policemen, and the neighborhood was crawling with reporters, who ignored the light rain in favor of getting comments from anyone who would talk to them. Bonness was there, Trammell was there, Freddie and Worley were there—hell, it looked as if every detective on the squad was there—and the chief was reportedly on the way. The fingerprint guys were dusting their black powder over everything, the forensic evidence people were vacuuming—it was a zoo.

“Felicia Alden,” Freddie said. “Her husband, Gene, found her. He’s a sales rep for a pharmaceutical firm and had been away on business.”

“And he just happened to come home right after his wife
was murdered,” Dane said wearily. They all looked at one another. They had seen the other scenes, and this was nothing like them, except for the fact that a woman had died from knife wounds. For one thing, the victim was still clothed, and she was lying on the bed as if she had been arranged there. There was no indication of sexual attack.

Dane sighed with relief. Marlie hadn’t failed; they all knew, and it was just a matter of proving it, that Gene Alden had probably murdered his wife and tried to set it up so that it looked like one of the serial murders. Alden had likely thought that, since the media had reported there was no evidence left behind, he would be safe when investigation turned up only forensic material that could be linked to him; after all, he
lived
there.

“Take him in for questioning, and find out about any life insurance policies he had on her,” Bonness said. “Or maybe if he caught her fooling around. I’ll try to calm the reporters down, but I can’t say much until we actually charge the guy, so they won’t believe me.” He looked depressed at the thought of facing the horde of shouting reporters.

“At least we’ll be able to do something about this one,” Freddie said.

Trammell walked over to join Dane, and they went outside. Reporters were mobbing Bonness, shouting questions at him. He was trying to talk, but they kept interrupting him. “I guess Marlie didn’t have a vision with this one,” Trammell said.

“Not even a glimmer, but it was scary anyway; it wasn’t a vision, but this afternoon she sort of locked on to him. He had picked out his next victim, but something happened and he lost her.”

Trammell whistled. “How’s Marlie?”

“On edge. It’s wearing her down.”

“No wonder. I wish there was some way to make it easier for her.”

“I’ll make damn sure she’s okay,” Dane said grimly. “By the way, how’s the work going on my house?”

“The floors are almost finished, and the furniture will be delivered this weekend. You can move back in on Monday, if you want.”

Dane snorted as he got in his car. “Get real, buddy.”

Trammell laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. See you in the morning.”

As Dane had expected, Marlie was still awake when he got there. “It wasn’t him,” he said, and watched the tension ease out of her face. She looked very small, curled up in a corner of the couch with her robe pulled tightly around her. “Probably the woman’s husband did it, and tried to make it look like the other murders.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on, honey, let’s go back to bed.”

•  •  •

Janes carefully controlled his elation Friday afternoon as he watched the indignant customer stalk away. Annette was there, so it wouldn’t do to let even a hint of his emotions show. At last! He was going to savor this one; too much time had passed, three weeks, for him to accurately compare it with the last one. Besides, he had concluded that it was the haste of the last punishment that had ruined it for him. He would do this one the way it should be done, with slow and careful planning, letting the anticipation build. He needed at least a week to do it properly.

He checked the calendar, though of course, he didn’t need to. It was just a part of his incredible precision. Yes, the earliest possible date would be next Friday night. The weekends were the best because those were his off days, and he could sleep late the next day. Let the media hoopla, satisfying as it was, die down a bit. The frenzy had nothing to feed on, though there had been that silly burst of hysteria the other night when some salesman had offed his wife and tried to blame it on him. It hadn’t worked, of course; the stupid bastard hadn’t had the same attention to detail. The cops had immediately seen through him. The television reports had sounded a tad disappointed.

Yes, this one would be good, maybe the best yet. The
woman had been a complete bitch, the kind he had always despised on sight: lean, tanned, brittle, overloaded with jewelry of questionable taste. She flaunted her money. She might have a security system, or even guard dogs. The possibility was intriguing. It would be a real test of his genius, if she did. He disregarded the probability of a husband; that had never stopped him before.