Nine Lives (12 page)

“But we know her cell phone was in a helicopter. I'm saying it was on her when the call was made. And if he was in a helicopter that same day, flying over the leases, and ate at his usual place, that says to me that she was with him. Did he stay in a motel out there that night?” she asked.

Wilson quickly scanned the credit card receipts.

“If he did, he didn't pay with a credit card.”

“Does he have a pilot's license?” Cat asked.

“He has plenty of people he could hire to fly it for him,” Wilson said.

Cat frowned. “If you had killed someone and were trying to hide the body, would you let another person in on the secret?”

“No.”

“So we need to know if he can fly his own planes,” Cat said.

Wilson took out his cell phone and made a quick call. His voice was terse as he requested the information. Despite the fact that it was a holiday, the man he called had a quick answer. It took less than two minutes for him to get an affirmative.

“He does,” Wilson said, as he dropped his cell phone back in his pocket.

Cat's eyes widened with admiration. She didn't know how he did it, but she was going to have to learn some of the tricks.

“Okay, say he flew out to East Texas, which is hundreds of thousands of acres. So let's assume it was to go to his land, where the wells are being pumped.”

“That's a real big assumption that might put you on a false trail,” Wilson said, then went back to the credit card listings. “Look and see if he rented a car while he was there.”

Cat scanned the list. “No. No rental. Nothing like that.” She moaned in frustration, then covered her face with her hands. “What if we're missing the point? What if—”

“We're just following clues. You and I both know how deceptive that can be, especially if you're trying to make information fit a specific time or event.”

Cat stood up, then paced a few moments. “Okay. You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself.”

“Okay, there's no rental car,” Wilson said. “So what? He has a pilot's license, remember?”

“Are there any landing strips on his oil leases?”

Wilson shuffled through the list.

“None that are apparent,” he said, then added, “However, you don't need a landing strip when you're in a chopper, and we think Marsha's call was made from inside a chopper.”

“You're right,” Cat said, as she reached for another list. “He owns a property just shy of seven hundred acres in the Tyler, Texas, area. Looks like there are a dozen or so wells pumping on that land.”

She got up from the table and strode to the windows. The weather was no better than it had been when she'd looked out hours earlier.

“I think I need to go there,” she said.

Wilson shook his head as he stood up and followed her.

“Catherine…do you hear yourself? We're talking about seven hundred acres, some of it swampland. I don't know what the weather's like in East Texas, but something has to change here first before you can make a move. Besides that, you can't just drive up to Presley's land and expect to find your friend's body—and that's if she's really dead, and if Presley really did it, and if he really hid her there. God, with his money and connections, she could be anywhere.”

Cat turned, her expression stern, her chin up as if bracing herself for a fight.

“She's lost, damn it. If the situation was reversed, she would be looking for me.”

Wilson took her by the shoulders. The tension in her body was strong as she tried to withdraw. He tightened his grip.

“You're running wild on this, which means you're not thinking things through. What you're doing could get you hurt.” Then he sighed. “I don't want this to be the last thing you ever do.”

Cat tried to get free, but he wouldn't let go.

“Damn it, Wilson, let me be. I don't need anyone's concern. I take care of myself.”

He frowned as he ran his thumb across the curve of her chin.

“Don't ask me why, Dupree, because you sure haven't given me any green lights, but you're beginning to grow on me. I can't explain the attraction, but I'd damn sure like to take you to bed.”

Cat felt as if she'd been sucker-punched.

Wilson loosened his hands from her shoulders, and slid them beneath her hair and up the back of her neck. Her pulse was pounding beneath the pads of his thumbs as he encircled her neck with his hands, then gently pulled her closer.

“I know you're a woman who doesn't like surprises,” he said softly. “So I thought I'd better let you know that I'm going to kiss you now. And if that pleases you as much as it pleases me, there's a real good chance that we're going to make love.”

Cat shivered at the promise in his voice, then surprised herself as well as him when she locked her hands around his neck and lifted her lips for his kiss.

C
at's heart was in her throat. Life and her job had made her tough, but right now she was as vulnerable as a woman could be. She wasn't naive, and she'd long ago lost her virginity, but she also wasn't in the habit of crawling in and out of the sack with just anybody.

She had never had a long-term relationship. She didn't
want
a long-term relationship. Having sex with Wilson McKay wouldn't bind her to anything, yet she had a feeling that if they did this, her life was never going to be the same. Still, she could no more have turned away from this moment than she could have stopped breathing.

Wilson knew this was going to change his life. He was already more than interested in Catherine Dupree. Taking her to bed seemed an appropriate step in the right direction. He wasn't leery. He was excited.

When she kissed him back, his excitement peaked. He deepened the kiss, feeling her lips part automatically as his mouth centered on hers.

There was a brief moment of discovery before every ounce of control he had took flight.

Cat moaned as Wilson arms tightened around her waist; then, when his hands slid lower and pulled her close against his groin, she shuddered.

Wilson felt the tremors in her body as he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. A short time earlier, he'd watched her sleep in this bed, and now sleep was the last thing on their minds.

Cat began to undress. He stopped her with a look and a touch, then finished the job for her. By the time he was pulling off her panties, she was shaking all over. He tossed the tiny scrap of pale blue silk aside, then laid his hand in the middle of her belly and pushed her backward onto the mattress.

She felt a jolt of electricity, which only increased her need. She had made love many times before, but she was taken aback by how badly she wanted this to happen.

His dark eyes were unreadable as he quickly shed his own clothes. When she saw the powerful jut of his erection, she automatically reached down and touched herself, trying to ease the ache between her legs.

“Oh no,” Wilson whispered, as he crawled onto the bed and slid between her legs. “Save that for me, darlin'.”

Cat reached for him eagerly, locking her legs around his waist as he settled between her thighs.

Wilson momentarily braced himself above her with a hand on either side of her head. He was only vaguely aware of a faucet dripping in the adjoining bathroom, and never heard the squeals and laughter of the kids playing in the parking lot outside. All he could feel was the heat coming off her body and a growing ache to be inside her.

There was a brief moment of lucidity when Cat thought about how selfish she was to be letting her personal wants and needs supersede finding Mimi, and then a tiny part of her mind could almost hear Mimi laughing and telling her to go for it.

So she did.

From the first kiss to the shock of Wilson McKay sliding into her, she felt as if she were being washed in fire. Her heart was pounding, her breath coming in short, anxious gasps. The rhythm of their bodies was in perfect sync, as if they'd done this a thousand times before. She felt the thunder of his heartbeat beneath the palms of her hands, and could tell from the growing tension in his muscles that, whether he knew it or not, he was already out of control.

Wilson had lost all cognizance of anything but Catherine. He was caught up in the power of being one with this woman. Cat was a drug he couldn't quit. He kept going back for it time and time again, until the inevitable happened.

Overdose.

One second they were still in motion, and the next, Cat's fingernails were digging into his shoulders and she was moaning in his ear. He came so fast that he lost his breath. In the moment when he was spilling himself into her, he was convinced he was dying. Even more surprising was the fact that he wasn't willing to stop to save his life.

 

Cat stretched.

Wilson murmured beneath his breath, slid his fingers around her waist and then pulled her closer against his belly. She went willingly as he spooned himself against her back. When he straightened the covers up over her shoulders, every muscle in her body went limp.

Cat was no novice, but the term “sexual satisfaction” didn't even come close to what Wilson McKay had done to her.

It was magnificent.

It was mind-bending.

It was addictive.

Wilson was almost blind with exhaustion, but he'd never felt better in his life. Just at the point of falling asleep, he felt Cat's backside snuggling closer into his lap.

“Uh…Wilson?”

“Hmmm?”

“Could we do that again?”

He laughed out loud.

It started like a rumble down deep in his belly and came up his throat in husky ripples, until the sound, like a blowout, burst behind Cat's head.

His laughter was infectious.

A little embarrassed, she frowned, but when he buried his face against the back of her neck and kept laughing, she rolled out from beneath his grasp and punched him on the shoulder.

Wilson had never, in his entire life as an adult, experienced this much passion and fun at the same time. He laughed until his belly hurt, and when he tried to pull her back down to him, she wouldn't relent.

“It wasn't that funny,” Cat muttered.

“On the contrary,” Wilson said. “You just weren't looking at the request from my point of view. I was just lying there thinking that I'd never felt so used up and satisfied in my life, and then you're asking about a repeat performance.”

Cat lifted her chin in the air, then arched an eyebrow.

“If the request was beyond your abilities, all you had to do was say so.”

Wilson reached up and pulled her back down in his arms, then rolled until she was beneath him. When she looked up, her breath caught in the back of her throat.

A bit of light was reflecting off the gold hoop in his ear, and there was a sheen of moisture on his lips, as if he'd just licked them. Without thinking, she ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip, and as she did, Wilson kissed her, hard and fast.

Cat groaned.

Wilson paused, then looked down at her.

“Still interested?” he drawled.

Cat's nostrils flared as she locked her legs around his waist.

Wilson's eyes widened, then closed in disbelief.

It was the last thing Cat saw before she pulled him under.

 

Mark Presley stepped out of the shower with a smug expression on his face. He'd called Penny's reaction right down to the squeal when she'd seen the yellow teardrop diamond on the gold chain and the scream when he made her come. He loved to be right, but he hated to be late, which was why he began to dry himself quickly. He'd made a reservation at the restaurant downstairs for a special brunch he had planned for a couple dozen of his new acquaintances. Even though it was Christmas Day, it was never a bad time to do business.

He was just about to reach for the shaving cream when he heard the distinct ring of his cell phone in the other room.

He grabbed a towel as he left the bathroom, wiping his hands on the way to answer. Penny was at the vanity, drinking champagne and preening. He gave her an absent smile as he answered.

“Presley.”

“Mark, this is Wyatt Beech. Merry Christmas and sorry to disturb you during your vacation, but I thought you needed to know this.”

Wyatt Beech was the pumper on the oil wells on the lease near Tyler, and Mark couldn't imagine why he would be calling him at all, let alone on Christmas Day.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Mark said. “So what is it you think I should know?”

“There was an explosion on Presley number nine. The well is burning out of control. We've got media all over the place. I'm trying to locate Dan Rimes and his crew. They're the ones who put out that fire for you down in Louisiana last year, right?”

Mark's belly flopped. Explosion? Fire? Media? The number nine well was less than two miles, as the crow flew, from where he'd dumped Marsha's body.

“How the hell did this happen?” he snapped, then shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “Yes, Rimes is the one to call, but I heard he's in South America. Check with his answering service and tell them it's a fucking emergency, you hear?”

“The authorities aren't sure how it happened, but it's looking like it might be a car accident. The remains of a pickup truck are in the middle of the blaze, and they're guessing somebody might have driven up to the well site and accidentally ran into the pump in the dark. The fire's too big to tell how many people might have been in the truck, but one thing's for sure, they won't be talking about it.”

“God damn it!” Mark yelled. “I thought there were locks on those gates leading in to the wells.”

“There are. That one's been cut,” Dan said. “Right sorry to give you bad news like this. Hope I didn't completely ruin your holiday. Oh…they're pumping water out of that old rock quarry to fill their trucks. I told them it was okay.”

Mark's good mood was gone. “Keep me posted,” he said, then, when they'd disconnected, turned around and threw his cell phone in a chair in frustration.

Penny was used to Mark's occasional outbursts of profanity, especially when something hadn't gone his way. She thought nothing of it as she got up from the dresser and sashayed toward him, naked as the day she was born.

“Markie…look at me,” she said, dressed only in the yellow diamond dangling from the chain around her neck.

Mark was struggling to get past a growing panic. It couldn't be good for that much activity to be happening so close to where he'd dumped Marsha's body. And the fact that they were using water out of the quarry was dangerous. He didn't think that they'd find the stuff he'd thrown in, but he hadn't counted on the water being siphoned out. He glanced at Penny and tried to smile as he patted her on the butt.

“Yes, darling…you look fabulous.”

Penny sidled closer, then cupped him suggestively with one hand while she rolled the tip of her nipple between her fingers.

“Mark…Markie…honey…I want to feel good again. Can you make me feel good again?”

Mark frowned. That meant getting it up. He wasn't in the mood to get anything up.

“Come on, Penny. You know we—”

“Markie…honey. I want to do it again.”

Suddenly the pout on her face and the whine in her voice set his teeth on edge.

“Not now,” he muttered.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed herself against his groin.

“Yes. Yes. Now. I want it now.”

Mark grabbed her arms and removed them from around his neck.

“We're not doing it again, so don't ask. Just get yourself dressed. The brunch is in less than an hour, and I still have to shave, okay?”

Penny pouted. “No. It's not okay. I want—”

Mark snapped. Before he knew it, he had his hands around her neck and was shoving her backward onto the bed. He jammed his knee between her legs, then shoved it upward—hard and fast. He heard the pop as his kneecap hit her pelvic bone.

Penny cried out in shock and pain.

“Markie, Markie…you're hurting me.”

“Shut up,” Mark growled. “You wanted this, remember?”

Penny screamed.

Mark's pulse accelerated. He liked causing pain, but he'd never revealed this side of himself to Penny before. His erection was instantaneous. He entered her, dry and hard, taking pleasure in her pitiful cry of disbelief.

Stunned by what she could only view as a rape, Penny clutched at the bed sheets in silent misery as Mark rode her. Less than a minute passed before he grabbed her by the hair and came in a final thrust so hard that her head bounced against the headboard.

He crawled off her without looking at her face and walked into the bathroom as if she wasn't even there. It wasn't until the door closed behind him that she reacted by bursting into tears.

Mark heard the wailing and opened the door long enough to curse, then informed her that she wasn't welcome downstairs.

“Don't bother getting dressed. I'll relay your excuses to our guests.”

Penny was stunned by Mark's behavior, but not to the point of letting him tell her what to do.

“You'll do no such thing!” she screamed, then swung her legs off the bed and strode to the dresser. “I'll be downstairs welcoming our guests before you get your sorry-ass self shaved. I will smile, and I will nod, and I will play sweet little hostess to all your guests, but you and I aren't through. Not by a long shot!”

Then she slammed the door shut in Mark's face, leaving him inside the bathroom to simmer on that.

And simmer he did. He couldn't believe what was happening. Less than two weeks ago, his life had been perfect. He'd taken care of business as usual. Everything had gone as planned until today.