Protective Custody (3 page)

Damn. He missed the SO. Locking up criminals was a hell of a lot more rewarding than spending ten or twelve hours a day tailing crooked employees and unfaithful spouses. By the end of each exhausting day his back ached and his legs were cramping. Good thing boredom wasn’t fatal.

His eyelids grew heavy. He slapped his cheek to wake himself. A barn owl hooted nearby. He’d shut his eyes, but only for a moment.

He woke with a start and checked the time.

Shit.

He’d been asleep more than an hour. Anyone could have slipped past him. He grabbed a flashlight and his gun from the glove box, then silenced his phone and shoved the gun into his waistband. Dry grass crunched as crossed the yard.

A scratching sound near the porch sent his pulse racing. He fingered his weapon and approached the house. His blood ran cold. A severed head lay in a pool of dark liquid on the porch.

Chapter Three

John Jarity scrolled through a dozen sites before finding what he sought. He tore his gaze from the computer for a second and checked the open doorway to make sure his wife was still asleep. Ruth Ann had an annoying habit of waking in the middle of the night and tiptoeing through the house in search of him.

Wrinkled-up bitch.

Just in case, he shut the door to the study. For good measure, he locked it too. His shoulders and neck ached. Too much tension. Releasing some of the pressure would do him good.

He returned to the desk and loosened his belt. Clicking on a thumbnail picture of a nude woman, he grinned. The image enlarged, and so did his cock. The girl was about seventeen or eighteen with long black hair and smooth, toffee-colored skin. Her tits were small but high with dark brown buds.

He unzipped his pants and slipped a hand inside his boxers. Cupping his balls, he leaned closer to the screen and hit the link for video. The girl yanked on those delicious nipples, then slid a hand between her legs and rubbed herself.

He reached for the bottle of oil in the desk drawer. His eyes never left the screen as he dripped some liquid over his cock. The girl peeled back the lips of her shaved pussy and showed him her nub.

So fucking hot.

He pumped his shaft as she spoke softly in a foreign language. But he knew what she was saying—that she wanted to suck him off, then let him fuck her any way he liked. Even in her ass, like his prude of a wife never had. He stroked faster and licked his lips as she dipped her fingers deeper into her hot slit.

The door handle rattled, blowing his concentration all to hell.

“John? Why is this door locked?” Ruth Ann asked. “I know you’re in there. What are you doing?”

Son of a bitch.

His hard-on lost steam. God, he hated her. “I’m working, honey. Go back to bed.”

Her deep, practiced sigh filtered through the door. “I wish you’d come to bed. You got home awfully late. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you take one of those sleeping pills your doctor gave you?”

Gritting his teeth, he stared at his flaccid penis. “I’m fine, Ruth Ann. I’ll be there soon.”

Another sigh. “All right.”

Her footsteps receded. He slammed his fist on the desk. If that stupid Nisha hadn’t tried to blackmail him, he wouldn’t have to resort to pathetic online porn. He zipped his pants, then clicked out of the website.

What he needed was a new maid. Ruth Ann had been whining all week that she couldn’t manage the household alone. As if straightening her own goddamn house and doing a few loads of laundry was so overwhelming. All she did every day was sit on her ever-widening ass, attend this charity event or that one and tinker with that silly jewelry Nisha had taught her to make. That was what started all the trouble in the first place.

He picked up the phone and dialed his brother’s number.

Harvey answered on the third ring. “Yeah?” His voice was barely a whisper, weak and pathetic. Hadn’t their father instilled anything in him? Elmer Jarity, a drill sergeant by trade, had regularly roused his sons in the middle of the night and made them perform grueling physical tasks. Dig a ditch in the backyard, do a hundred sit-ups or move a log from one end of the property to the other. Made a man of John, but not Harvey, apparently.

He’d taken up the task of toughening up his brother after their father’s death, yet Harvey still questioned his authority. Wasn’t as if he enjoyed kicking his brother’s ass, but someone had to keep him in line. Harvey would be a damn pussy if left to his own devices. He’d spend every day in his yard planting flowers like a fucking fairy. It was embarrassing that they shared the same genes. “I have to talk to you about your trip.”

“Huh? What time is it?”

John rolled his eyes and huffed. “Wake up. This is important. I need you to pick something up for me in Sri Lanka. Something special.”

“You mean
someone?
” Harvey lowered his voice.

“Yes, I mean
someone.
I have to replace that ungrateful Nisha. I hope to hell you pick some better ones this time. Make sure the families are dirt fucking poor, understand? And desperate.”

“Listen, John, I’m not going to help you again like I did tonight.”

That’s because you’re a pussy, Harvey.
“Things just got out of hand. Won’t happen again.” He opened his browser and returned to the porn site. Then he clicked on a photo of another girl he’d love to fuck. “You know what I like, right? Long hair, small frame, no older than nineteen or twenty. A girl who’s too shy to make eye contact. And at least two or three more to make it profitable. I’ll cover whatever it costs for the necessary paperwork and enough rupees for the families. Understand?”

“Yeah, I know. But what about that black woman who saw you? What if she goes to the cops? She could blow the whole thing wide open. The last thing we need is the ICE on our backs.”

“Calm down. I have a plan.” He reached into his breast pocket, fished out a business card, then read her name again. He had way too much at stake to let some busybody screw it up. But he couldn’t just walk into her office and put a bullet in her head. No, he had to go about this wisely, cautiously. He sure as hell didn’t want to tie himself to another murder. One way or another, Megan Jackson would be silenced.

***

Megan checked the clock for the hundredth time. Night shadows crept across the ceiling, and the wind whispered lonely strains that filtered through her windows. She pulled the covers higher, clear to her chin. Why had she insisted Will leave? Maybe she’d have managed to rest if he’d slept on the couch.

But the hole in her heart would have ached even more. God, she’d done her best to move on after she’d broken up with him. Memories of Will refused to stay locked away.

Gram had been furious when she’d called it quits with Jerome, said she’d thrown away her chance at happiness. But Megan refused to pretend. Jerome was an empty shell. A good-looking man with no ambition, no brains to speak of, and most important, he wasn’t Will. What she and Will had shared was the real thing. At least it had been for her.

The creaking of floorboards cut through the silence and had her holding her breath.

Waiting.

Listening.

Trembling, she peeled back the covers and sat up. She stood, mindful of the noisy springs in her antique bed. A grating sound drifted through the air as if someone were dragging a rake along the wooden shingles outside the house. She patted the night table for her cell but didn’t feel it.

Damn it.
She’d left it in her purse. Her hands trembled so badly she wouldn’t be able to hit the buttons.

She tiptoed out her bedroom door, all her senses sharp. Footsteps crunched in the dry grass outside.

Oh God.
She slapped her hand to her mouth, afraid she’d be discovered. A shadow stalked past the narrow windows flanking the front door. She tried to draw air into her lungs but only managed a single ragged breath.

It’s him.

She stifled a terrified cry.

A quick flash of yellow light skimmed the window. Heart pumping full throttle, she raced to the kitchen phone.

Speaking softly, she gave the operator her address and begged her to send help right away.

She gasped at a pounding knock on the front door.

“Megan, it’s Will.”

Relief settled over her. She clutched her chest and let him in.

Will’s hair was damp and tousled, and he looked pale. He shut the door, then scooped her into his arms and held her tight. Exactly what she needed to banish the ghosts. She allowed herself several seconds of his comfort before backing away.

“What are you doing here?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been watching your house. I couldn’t leave you here alone. You don’t always know what’s best for you.” He squared his shoulders and jutted his chin forward, giving him an authoritative air, smug even. And sexy.

“You scared the hell out of me. I was terrified that someone was trying to break in—Oh crap. I need to call the cops and tell them never mind.” She hurried to the kitchen and hit Redial.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” a male officer asked.

“Megan Jackson.” She leaned against the pantry and took in the six-plus feet of sexy man at the other end of the short hallway. She swallowed the rush of desire.

“Miss Jackson, that would be the second call you’ve placed to nine-one-one in less than four hours. Now you say everything is okay?”

She ignored his patronizing tone. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Have a nice night.”

She hung up the phone and shook her head. “They think I’m crazy.” She strode toward Will and caught his gaze raking over her body.

“Since you were the only thing that went bump in the night, I think it’s fine for you to go.”

“Not a chance.” He circled her and entered the living room. “I’ll be right here. A blanket and pillow would be greatly appreciated.” With that, he plopped onto the sofa.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but the notion of Will staying over sent a wave of excitement through her.

Can I resist him?

His pull enticed her like a siren’s song. “I’d insist you leave, but I know you too well.”

“Yes, you do.” He lifted one eyebrow suggestively.

They knew each other in the most intimate of ways. Memories assaulted her every sense—the look of molten lust in his green eyes, the feel of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the guttural sound of his carnal release, the scent of their union.

Raw need swamped her, weakening her knees. She gripped the doorknob tighter to steady herself. Her nipples hardened under his stare. She had to escape his presence, or she might make a fool of herself. “I…I’ll get you a blanket. And a pillow.”

She tamped down on her libido and walked to the linen closet.

He is only here to protect me.

She had to get hold of herself, stop reacting to him like a horny teenager. After retrieving the bedding supplies, she plopped them on a chair. “Here you go.” As fast as she could, she left the living room, then closed herself in her bedroom.

She crawled into bed and yanked the covers high. If she didn’t get some sleep, she’d be worthless at work tomorrow and too exhausted to prove a crime had occurred.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on clearing her mind. Only she kept picturing Will’s handsome face. His thick sandy hair and sparkling eyes. The comfort she’d found in his embrace confirmed what she’d been thinking for months—she still had feelings for him. Nothing she did seemed to diminish those feelings.

When she’d needed to confide in someone, Will had been the first person she’d called. Certainly not Jerome, the guy she’d dated after Will, not Betsy, her secretary. Not any of her friends.

Will.

She ought to quit dwelling on him. Gram would never approve of her being with Will, and Megan couldn’t disappoint her. She owed her all she had, everything she was. Even if she could convince Gram to give him a chance, Will’s mother had made it clear she wasn’t welcome in Will’s life. Maybe she should have told him, but what was the point? She refused to further damage his already troubled relationship with his parents.

Her growling stomach reminded her of the meals she’d missed. She tried to ignore the persistent rumbling by rolling onto her side and squeezing her eyes shut. No use.

She threw back the sheets and huffed. Another stomach pang roared.

With a sigh, she climbed out of bed and headed to the kitchen. She grabbed a banana and ate it while she peered out the window into the inky night, thinking about the poor girl who’d been murdered. What had her life been like? Who had loved her? Who would mourn her?

The fruit turned to lead in her stomach. She sank onto one of the bistro chairs and leaned her chin on her hands. The girl’s frightened eyes flashed before her, begging for help. Megan owed it to the young woman to see that her killer was brought to justice. Maybe Will would know where to begin to solve the mystery. He was a cop after all.

She headed to the living room and found him still asleep. Will’s gun, flashlight and wallet lay on the end table by his head. She started to leave but stopped at his sharp intake of breath.

“Hey.” His voice, husky with sleep, wrapped around her and drew her closer.

“Hi. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sure I did.

He eased up and patted the cushion alongside his legs. “Siddown.”

When she did, he curled his fingers into her shoulders and massaged. She prayed he couldn’t hear her heart hammering. The extravagant sensation of his hands on her flesh pulled all the tension from her body. She shouldn’t lead him on, but she couldn’t resist being close to him. Her nipples puckered, and her sex pulsed with long-denied yearning. She squeezed her thighs together.

Will kneaded behind her neck, then combed his fingers along her scalp. “You have the softest hair. And you always smell like vanilla, so damn sweet.”

A whisper of delight shimmied over her skin. She held perfectly still and willed herself to find the strength to stop him. He shifted his leg against her back, and the spot where they touched sizzled with electricity.

“Megan.” He said it like a prayer, full of reverence and emotion.

She shut her eyes and pretended this was all a dream. He brushed his lips along her neck. Then he turned her toward him and kissed her cheek, her forehead, finally her lips. He cradled her head and moaned into her mouth. A tsunami of yearning flooded her veins. She couldn’t get enough of his cinnamon taste. He circled her tongue with his, glided it over her teeth and explored every inch of her mouth.

Like a long-lost lover.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to the moment. Nothing else existed while she and Will touched. She pulled her legs up onto the couch and stretched out alongside him.

He hovered over her, stared at her with smoldering eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

She didn’t dare admit how she’d pined for him for the last few months. Or that she pretended they were still together when she peeked at the photo of him hidden in her wallet?