Waking Nightmare (18 page)
His mouth quirked. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But I had to make sure the case wouldn’t be impacted. No, I’m sorry about your sister. It must be . . . a worry.”
Abbie almost laughed.
Worry
was such a tame description of the inner emotional war that always accompanied thoughts of Callie. But her black humor faded abruptly as his gaze lingered on her, as the concern in his expression changed to something else.
Worry
was such a tame description of the inner emotional war that always accompanied thoughts of Callie. But her black humor faded abruptly as his gaze lingered on her, as the concern in his expression changed to something else.
Desire. It lit an answering heat in her veins, one she knew enough to reject. Although she’d grown to respect the man, she couldn’t honestly say she always liked him.
But she was always
aware
of him. There was an attraction that flickered to life at odd moments when they were together. It skipped over nerve endings and ignited long-dormant feelings that had no place in the life she’d made for herself. And it was clear from the heat in Ryne’s eyes that he felt it, too. It was, she was discovering, far easier to ignore when he was being deliberately provoking than when he was unexpectedly kind.
aware
of him. There was an attraction that flickered to life at odd moments when they were together. It skipped over nerve endings and ignited long-dormant feelings that had no place in the life she’d made for herself. And it was clear from the heat in Ryne’s eyes that he felt it, too. It was, she was discovering, far easier to ignore when he was being deliberately provoking than when he was unexpectedly kind.
Just a few inches separated them. She swallowed, fighting the urge to close the distance and press her lips against that hard mouth and see for herself if it would soften for her. But even as she was struggling to summon the discipline to move past him, away from temptation, he lowered his head and covered her lips with his.
He knew how to kiss a woman. Deep. Demanding. Devastating. There was a sort of resignation in the realization, even as her body responded. It was too much to hope that one taste of him would be enough to quench the attraction for good. And since it was too late to walk away from what was assuredly a mistake, she opened her lips to make the most of the moment. Her pulse chugged and her blood turned molten as his tongue swept into her mouth and his flavor traced through her.
One arm snaked around her waist and brought her closer. His chest was hard; his abbreviated attire showed off the roped muscles in his arms and legs. She clutched his shoulders to explore the bunched strength there and, taking his bottom lip in her teeth, scored it not quite lightly.
Ryne dropped one hand to her butt and squeezed, turning her and walking her backward until she was trapped between the unyielding surface of the wall at her back and the hard hungry man at the front. He braced one arm next to her head while his mouth ate at hers with a leashed urgency that was all the more compelling for being restrained.
Abbie dragged her lips from his and ran the tip of her tongue over the hollow beneath his throat, where bone met sinew. He tasted of salt and sweat and man, and an unfamiliar need clawed through her. Her past relationships had been few, brief, and based on comfort, safety, and most importantly, maintaining control.
There was nothing comfortable about Ryne. He wasn’t safe. And she’d battle to remain in control around him. Somehow that made her reaction to him even more shattering.
His lips went to a spot beneath her ear that had her shivering, her knees going to water. Their hands battled with each other’s clothing, and her palms skated up his ridged sides at the same moment she felt his fingers at her waist. The feel of him was seductive, lightly padded muscle over bone, and she desperately wanted to test that power with touch and teeth and taste. She reveled in the exquisite pleasure of his hands on her flesh, just shy of rough, and an alarm shrilled in her mind. In a complete detour from her normally innate caution, she muted it. There was an unexpected pleasure to be found in the flavor of him, and a sense of power in realizing that he was just as helpless to control it as she was.
His mouth sealed against hers, he pushed a knee between her legs so he could step between them, to press even more closely against her. A band of heat sizzled everywhere they touched, and a fever streaked through her blood. Ryne’s hands went to her breasts, covered in a sports bra that was frustratingly thick and tight. Her nipples tightened in anticipation of firmer contact, and she made a hum of approval when his fingers went to the hem of her shirt, and began to draw it upward.
When cooler air kissed heated flesh, though, reality abruptly intruded. Her hands went to his chest, and it took more effort than it should have to turn away from those wickedly clever lips, to haul in a steadying gulp of air.
He stilled, his breathing labored. They remained like that for long moments, and when he moved away, slowly, reluctantly, something inside her mourned. She busied herself smoothing her shirt down, avoiding his eyes.
“Not a good idea,” he rasped, and she jerked her head from side to side.
“Definitely not.”
The curse he muttered then had her gaze flying to his. “I’m not apologizing for this.”
Her voice was shaky. “I’d have to hurt you if you did.”
Hauling in a breath, he took a step back from her, then another. There was an instant, one heated moment, when she glimpsed the hunger on his face, and thought he’d reverse his path and pull her into his arms again. A moment when she was sure she would have gone willingly, and damn the consequences. But then his expression shuttered, and he turned and walked past her. Out of the room. Out of the house.
The snick of the door closing punctured the crazy hope that had flared, albeit briefly. Abbie leaned a shoulder against the wall, not certain her legs would support her. It occurred to her then, as she listened to the sound of the Mustang’s powerful engine roaring to life, that Callie’s reappearance right now was not the biggest problem she needed to handle.
Not even close.
Chapter 9
Ryne positioned himself behind the one-way glass to watch the scene being conducted in the interview room. Holmes had rounded up Juarez’s girlfriend, and he was anxious to hear what, if anything, she could tell them about the man. They had a handful of hours before they had to file charges or spring him. They had the pot and assault charges to level at him, of course, but once they did, he’d be up for bail. And somehow the scumbags always managed to find someone to pony up the dough.
Juarez was still denying any knowledge of the blood or syringe found in his Bronco. And while they were awaiting word from Han on the chemical analysis of the syringe contents, this woman, Geneva Rivera, was their last hope to learn something quickly that would more solidly link the man to the rapes. From the responses she’d given so far, however, that hope was fading fast.
“I told ya, I was only with him a few weeks. Wouldn’t call him my
boyfriend
. Can I get a frickin’ cigarette? I’m dying here.”
boyfriend
. Can I get a frickin’ cigarette? I’m dying here.”
“Sorry.” Isaac Holmes’s expression never changed as he surveyed the woman from across the table. “There’s a no smoking ordinance in the department.”
“Figures.” She drummed her fingers nervously on the table. “So what’d Hidalgo do, huh? Flash some little ol’ lady and give her a heart attack?”
“You knew about his past?”
She lifted a nearly bare shoulder. Narrow straps battled gravity to keep her ample chest from spilling out of her thin pink top. “I didn’t know when I met him. Knew he’d been in prison, though. Thought he was kinda
dangerous
. Guys that have been inside, they have a lotta built-up need, you know?” She batted her eyes. “That can be kinda exciting. But Hidalgo, he’s about as exciting as a doggy hard-on.”
dangerous
. Guys that have been inside, they have a lotta built-up need, you know?” She batted her eyes. “That can be kinda exciting. But Hidalgo, he’s about as exciting as a doggy hard-on.”
“What does that mean?”
Rivera did a double take. “What does that . . . c’mon, what do you think it means? He’s not a top performer. A thirty-second man, if you get my drift.”
Ryne watched as Holmes consulted the list of questions he’d given him. “Did he ever threaten you physically? Ever ask you to engage in sexual acts that were abusive?”
Geneva dug in her purse and extracted some gum. Unwrapping it, she popped it in her mouth, chewed. “Naw, nothing like that. He liked to pretend a lot, and wanted me to. It got old fast.”
“Pretend what?”
She screwed up her brow, as if the act of remembering was an effort. “Like once he wanted to tie me up, which I thought might be kinda fun. But then he just wanted me to act like he was my master, like a sheik or something. Say weird stuff like I was his slave. Stupid stuff like that.”
Interest sharpening, Ryne straightened. He had the stray thought that it was too bad Abbie wasn’t here. She’d be better able to tell what, if anything, Juarez’s behavior with Rivera might have meant.
In the next moment, realization struck him and his mouth flattened. His first reaction when he’d come in and not seen her had been one of relief. He still hadn’t come to terms with the emotion that had slammed into him the first time he’d gotten his hands on her. Or those that had resulted from walking away.
There was no denying it had been for the best. His attention was only half on the conversation taking place in the other room. The last thing he needed right now was to get involved with a woman, especially one working the case.
But it wasn’t Abbie’s involvement in the case that was his biggest concern, it was the emotions she elicited without even trying. The first time he’d responded after hearing the call about her break-in, he’d backpedaled abruptly once he recognized what he was feeling.
Protectiveness.
Protectiveness.
Which would have been funny, if it wasn’t so pathetic. The last woman he should have been protecting had wound up dead. The failure still weighted his conscience. If Abbie needed protection, she couldn’t have chosen a man less capable of delivering it.
Only half listening to Rivera’s litany about Juarez’s shortcomings in the bedroom, memories replayed in his mind. Of Abbie sailing through the air to tackle Juarez; of her whaling on Barlow. The mental recollections brought a smile to his lips. Despite her size, Abbie Phillips seemed more than capable of taking care of herself.
Except, of course, with family.
His smile faded as he remembered her reluctant disclosure last night. Even if she was correct, and the vandalism acts were caused by her off-balanced sister, he remained unconvinced that she was in no danger. But he’d recognized the no trespassing signs she’d posted about the subject and had backed away. He valued his own privacy too much to intrude any further on hers.
“Did Hidalgo ever leave anything at your place?” The question had Ryne’s attention moving back to the interview room. “Maybe give you something to keep for him?”
“Like what?”
Holmes never seemed to lose patience. “Maybe a sealed box, or a package of some kind. Articles of clothing. Tapes.”
Geneva shook her head and said, half-bitterly, “He never spent a dime on me while we was together, other than to pay for drinks when we went out. And he never gave me nothing else either.”
“Maybe he left something at your place without asking. Hid it in a closet, under a bed.”
The woman gave a short laugh. “I live with two other women, and there’s about as much privacy as a shoe box. There’s no place you can hide something and not have someone stumble over it. Believe me, I’ve tried. This one bitch, Greta Marko, she won’t stop wearing my clothes, right? So I tried putting my best stuff away, kinda like hiding it, like you said, and she—”
“Can you verify Hidalgo’s whereabouts on any of these dates?” Holmes’s question interrupted the woman’s growing ire, and had Ryne’s attention sharpening. But Rivera seemed unsure. A calendar was produced and the woman flipped through it desultorily. Juarez’s attendance record at the Valu-Mart had already been pulled. Given his hours, even on days he’d worked, he could have still managed assaults on each of the days in question. Some of the time lines would have been tight, but it was manageable. His second job cleaning up at Shorty’s provided no alibi. The owner and other employees had already been questioned, but no one else worked while he was there.
Which meant the man needed to come up with someone else who could alibi him on the days in question. It was clear the woman in the interview room was going to provide him with little help.
“You’re sure of that?”
Rivera nodded her head emphatically in response to Holmes’s question. “We first started seeing each other the end of April. The last time I was with Hidalgo was middle of June. The eighteenth. I took him to my niece’s baptism. Believe me, my family wasn’t impressed. It was then I decided to drop him for good.”
“How about this date in May.” He tapped the calendar page. That would be the date of Amanda Richard’s attack.
The woman shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. We usually only seen each other on weekends, but sometimes we’d get together on weeknights, too. Not often, though, because he had that job at Shorty’s, and he usually had to go there.”
Though the detective continued awhile longer, Rivera had nothing else of import to tell them. Ryne headed back to his desk when the interview concluded, his mood dark. He may as well call the DA now and get it over with. Unless something else transpired in the next few hours, Juarez was going to be a free man.
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