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Authors: Karen Rose

BOOK: You Can't Hide
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She wrenched the gun from his hand and fell on her ass, the cold wet of the ground seeping through her jeans, shocking her into motion. She scrambled backward using her heels for leverage, her cold fingers fumbling with the gun’s grip, its trigger. She lurched to her feet and took another stumbling step back.

Clayborn struggled to his knees. Blood gushed from his nose, running down his vinyl jacket. He spat a mouthful of blood to the soggy wet ground. “You fucking cunt,” he growled. “You broke my nose. I’m going to kill you for that.”

Breathe, Tess. Breathe.
She made her hands steady and held the gun with both hands as Vito had taught her so many years ago. Forced her voice to be cool. Collected. Even though her blood was pounding in her ears, deafening her.

“If you come one step closer I swear to God I’ll blow your head off.” She tossed her hair from her eyes, control returning and with it a cold resolution. “On second thought, come. I’l kill you

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where you stand, you sonofabitch. For Harrison. Come on. Take a step. I really, really want to kill you.” “You wouldn’t,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He wiped blood from his face with his sleeve, but it kept gushing from his nose. “You couldn’t.” Spitting again, he struggled to his feet and she pul ed the trigger.

He froze, staring at the ground where the bul et had struck, an inch from his foot.

“You don’t think I would?” Her heart was crashing against her ribs and she raised the gun level with his chest. “You ready to bet your life on that? I’ve had one hell of a day, Mr. Clayborn. So you want to try it, fine. But I warn you, you’re betting against the house now. Really, really bad odds.”

“Tess? Oh my God.
Dad!
” Aidan slammed out of the house and was at her side in seconds, his gun in his hand. Seconds later Clayborn was on his knees, his hands cuffed behind his back and even still the look he gave her terrified her to her bones. If he’d been free, she’d be dead. It was as simple as that.

“Tess,” Aidan said gently. “Put the gun down.”

She looked at the gun in her hands, then back at Clayborn. “He killed Harrison.”

“I know, honey. And you caught him. He can’t hurt you now.”

“He killed Harrison,” she repeated, the gun still in her hands. Now that Clayborn was on his knees, it pointed at his head.

The door slammed again and she heard a gruff voice commanding Becca to call 911. A minute later a hand gently pried Clayborn’s gun from her hands and an arm went around her shoulders.

“Come inside,” Kyle Reagan said quietly. “It’s all right now.”

Tess looked over Clayborn’s head and met Aidan’s eyes. “Call Abe and Mia. Tell them we found Clayborn.”

Aidan nodded. “I will.”

Wednesday, March 15, 10:45 P.M.

Aidan’s heart was still beating hard as he guided the Camaro into his garage. Even though she now sat safely at his side, he kept seeing her standing in his parents’ front yard, pointing Clayborn’s gun to the bastard’s own head, her hands steady and her face filled with cold resolve. Afterward, Abe and Mia had arrived to haul Clayborn off and she’d answered their questions with a terse brevity that was whol y uncharacteristic. She’d been angry. She still was. She’d said nothing on their way home, but he could feel her rage still bubbling. Aidan cut the ignition and she leaped from the car and ran inside.

With a quiet sigh Aidan fol owed, catching up to her in his bedroom where she stood at the foot of his bed with her back to him, ripping at the button of her jeans. Her sweater was already on the floor, leaving her back bare except for the lacy bra he’d already removed once that day. He swallowed back a surge of lust and picked up her sweater, swallowing hard again when he felt the crust of dried blood on her sleeve. Clayborn’s blood, which had gushed from his broken nose. It was the second time in two days she’d worn the blood of others. So easily it could have been her own.

She kicked off her muddy jeans, took off toward the bathroom, then stopped abruptly, dropping her chin to her chest. She shuddered out a deep breath. “I know I should thank you for stopping me. I would have killed him if you hadn’t stopped me.”

This he understood. “You wouldn’t have killed him, Tess. Not in cold blood.”

She lifted her head, her laugh bitter. “I’d like to think that was true. I taunted him. I told him to try to get me. I wanted to kill him.”

His blood ran cold at the thought of her taunting a crazed killer, but he kept his voice even as he dropped her sweater on top of her jeans. “But you didn’t. Tess, don’t you think I know how you feel? There are times I make a bust and it’s all I can do not to rip the perp’s head right off his

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shoulders. That I don’t makes me a good cop. That I want to makes me human. You came face to face with the man who killed your friend. If you weren’t angry, you wouldn’t be normal.”

“You sound like a shrink now.” She shook her head slowly. “I was standing there… and all of the sudden it wasn’t just about Harrison. It was… all of them. Cynthia and Avery. Gwen and Malcolm.” Her voice faltered. “Mr. Hughes,” she whispered. “God, Aidan, he’s gone. Because of-”

He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face him. “Stop it. Don’t you dare say this is because of you.”

Her eyes flashed hot. “But it is,” she hissed.

In frustration, he tightened his hold on her shoulders. “Dammit, you might have died tonight, Tess.”

The heat in her eyes disappeared, leaving behind a haunted fragility that made his own frustration fade away. “Don’t you think I know that?” she whispered. It was the descent from an adrenaline rush after a close call. He’d seen it hundreds of times in hundreds of victims during his career. But this was different. This was Tess. There was fear in her eyes and he wanted it gone. “You’re alive,” he murmured. Then proved it the best way he knew how, covering her mouth with his.

She didn’t back away so he deepened the kiss, his heart pounding harder when after a moment of quiet acceptance she seemed to explode into motion, locking her arms around his neck and lifting on her toes to press her body closer. One kiss became two, then three as his hands slid down the smooth skin of her back, beneath the lace that covered her curves. He cupped her rear end, lifting her higher, tightening his hold when she wriggled against him, humming deep in her throat.

She pul ed back far enough to see his face, an almost desperate passion in her eyes. “Tonight, Aidan. Please.”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t think-” Then his mouth went dry and he couldn’t think at all as she stepped back, deftly unclasping her bra and slipping out of her panties. Nude, she stole his breath. Golden skin and… curves. Everywhere. His swallow was audible in the quiet of the room. “My God. Tess.”

Not taking her eyes from his she pul ed his shirt from his pants, loosening each button with a methodical deliberation that had him nearly hypnotized. Somewhere about halfway up his shirt his senses returned with the urgency of a storm. Fingers fumbling, he managed his belt, his pants, boxers and shoes as she continued her slow progress. With a low laugh he yanked at the last button, shrugging out of his shirt and falling with her to the bed in the same breath. He rol ed her to her back, settling between her thighs, anticipation making his heart pound way up in his throat. “Be sure,” he said hoarsely.

“Be quiet.” She thrust up against him with a rol of her hips, sliding her hands into his hair, pul ing him down for the hottest kiss he’d ever had. Her thighs rose to bracket his hips and with a muttered oath he plunged deep, making her arch and cry out. He stopped, his body tight. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Her eyes were closed and she drew a deep breath. “It’s been a long time.” Her hands grasped his back and she settled herself beneath him, drawing him deeper still. “Don’t even think about stopping.”

Relief made him shudder, the urgent lift of her hips made him move. He watched her face as he did, watched her face tighten, her head toss on his pillow. Watched the way her teeth clamped her bottom lip as her hips bucked harder, meeting each thrust. She felt incredible, but watching her go higher and higher… God, he’d never seen anything more erotic, any woman more beautiful. Then her eyes flew open and in their brown depths he saw an urgency and awe that stunned him and he knew this was a place she’d never been before.

“Aidan.” It was a muted plea and he knew she was hanging on the edge. Determined that she’d have it all, he slipped his hands beneath her thighs, spread her legs wider, and drove his body deeper, his goal single-minded. Pleasure for her.
For me.
But he was nearing his limit. Not yet. He bit his lip hard, holding back. And finally, when he thought he couldn’t hold back any

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longer, she arched and came hard, hurling him higher, shoving him over. Groaning her name, he fell.
Wednesday, March 15, 11:35 P.M.

She awoke to his mouth on her breast and arched like a cat, stretching and twisting to fit herself to him. He lay between her legs, his chest hard against her pelvis and it felt good. Not nearly as good as when he’d been inside her, but damn good just the same. Certainly better than the dream from which he’d pul ed her. “I was dreaming.”

He lifted his head. “I know. You were screaming. Scared the shit out of me.” His mouth curved wryly. “You seem to make a habit of doing that.”

She feathered the hair at his nape. “I’m sorry.”

“So what was the dream, Tess?”

“Same one I’ve been having every night, just more densely populated.” Cynthia, Avery Winslow. The Sewards. Now Harrison and Mr. Hughes. “Do you remember the “Thriller” video, with all those zombies? Well, none of mine were dancing.” She pushed her hair out of her face with one hand. “It started Sunday night. It was Cynthia… and you were there, too. She was lying there…” She grimaced, remembering. “All ripped up, her heart beating in her chest. And you stood over her and grabbed her heart and held it out to me.” She swallowed. “Told me to take it.”

He looked horrified. “God.”

“Yeah. I guess I screamed then, too, because Jon woke me up.”

“He was in your apartment?”

She nodded. “He has a key.”

He frowned. “Who else has keys to your apartment, Tess?”

“Amy. Robin. I guess Phillip probably still does.” She lifted her head from the pillow to stare down at him, not liking the tone of his question. “No way. It’s not possible that they had anything to do with this.”

“I didn’t say they did.”

“You thought it.”

“That’s my job, Tess.” His jaw tightened. “I’m supposed to be keeping you safe. Though a fat lot of good I was tonight.”

She dropped her head back to the pillow, unwilling to argue with him about her friends. He’d see he was wrong in time. “You kept me from killing the sonofabitch. I suppose I should appreciate that.”

“Give it time. Why do so many people have keys to your place, Tess? It’s not safe to have that many keys floating around. Somebody had free access to your apartment long enough to place all those cameras.”

Dread crept back into her heart. “David Bacon.”

“He might have put in the first cameras, but what about the microphones in your jackets?

How long have you had them? The jackets.”

“Different amounts of time.” She swallowed. “It would depend on when I hit the sales. Did you find a microphone in that red jacket I wore on Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“I just bought it a month ago. It was a Valentine’s Day sale.” She closed her eyes. “Somebody’s been in my apartment in the last few weeks.”

“Maybe not. Have you sent the jackets out to be cleaned?”

“All but the red one. It was brand new. My God, Aidan.”

He kissed the hol ow between her breasts. “Sshh. We won’t worry about it right now. Tell me about your friends.”

Her eyes flew open. “No. It’s not possible. Don’t you think I’d know?” But he said nothing, exasperating her. “I’ve known Jon since med school. Robin, too. Amy and I have been friends since junior high school, for God’s sake.”

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“Maybe somebody took their key. Made a copy.”

She considered that. “That’s possible.”

“So why do they have keys?”

“Phillip gave them keys when I was sick.”

“You mean when you were hurt last year?”

She shook her head, hating the memory. “No, after the con with the chain. I was in the hospital for a few days. Phillip was out of town at a conference, but he came home early. Took me home, put me to bed.” She stared at his ceiling. “He’d stand there and watch me like I was going to blow up or something. He didn’t do well with sick people.”

“What did he do? As a career?”

“He’s a doctor, too. I met him in med school along with Jon.”

He frowned. “But he isn’t good with sick people? Isn’t that a job liability?”

“That’s why he went into research.”

“So how were you sick? Is that what Vito meant when he said you were too skinny?”

“Vito always thinks I’m too skinny.”

“You’re evading my question, Tess.”

She sighed. “I’m lying here naked as a jaybird and you want to talk about me being sick?

That’s not normal, Aidan.”

He nuzzled her breast, kissing close enough to her nipple to make her gasp, far enough away to make her arch. “Tell me what I want to know and I’l pursue other topics.”

She laughed. “Is this your normal interrogation technique?”

“Tess,” he warned. “I’m serious.”

She sighed again. “It’s embarrassing, okay? I don’t like to talk about it because it’s embarrassing. After Phillip brought me home from the hospital I was supposed to recuperate for a week, then go back to work, but every time I got out of bed I’d feel weak and nauseous. I’d go into work and spend seventy-five percent of my day puking my guts up in the bathroom.”

“What was wrong?”

She gave him a dark look. “Nothing. I got tested twelve ways to Tuesday and nobody could find any physical reason why I was sick.”

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