Bring the Heat (18 page)

She began to move back and forth, stroking him. “Austin, please, fuck me hard.”

“God, yes.”

He surrendered control. Gave himself over to the beast raging to do her. Hard and wild. Wrapping his fingers in her long hair, he pulled her head back and pounded into her with long strokes. Thrusting harder, faster. Joyous feminine cries reached his ears, erasing any lingering doubt he might've had about taking her so roughly. He'd tread the razor's edge, but he'd never, ever hurt her. She knew, and trusted him completely.

“Yeah, take my cock, baby,” he growled. “So fucking sweet.”

“Oh yes! Fuck me!”

The beast stood no chance against such heady stuff. With a hoarse shout, he impaled her one last time. Held her small body close, buried so deep he actually
felt
them become one heart, one mind. His release rocked him to the core. Branded his soul as hers, for always. Her climax milked him, on and on.

Covering Laura like a blanket, he remained inside her for a moment, sweating and shaking. He'd never come harder or been drained more thoroughly in his life. Had never before shared a shattering awakening, a fusing of hearts, with the only woman he'd ever love from this day forward. He'd never known this sweet ache, ever.

Not even with Ashley, as good and fine as it had
been in the beginning. She was truly gone, and he found himself at peace at last. Not with her murder—
never
that—but with the knowledge that he would be all right now. The memory of his wife and lost child had settled into a soft place in a heart that didn't have to hurt so much anymore. She wouldn't begrudge his happiness, and he knew she'd have liked Laura.

And so Austin let them go. A tremendous weight lifted, set him free.

He pulled out, laughing as Laura collapsed with an exaggerated groan. He trashed the condom and gathered her into his arms, settled her head on his chest. She snuggled into his side, skimming a palm over his stomach. He loved her touching his body.

“Wow. Good morning, Captain. Anytime you want to strip-search me like that again, do your worst.” She pressed a kiss to his chest.

“Oh, I intend to, sugar. I'm gonna enjoy the hell out of making you lose control. Often.” Even to him, it came out sounding smug and satisfied.

She raised her head, arching a brow. “Yeah? Same to you, buddy. You probably scared the neighbors. Made small children ten miles away run screaming for their mothers.”

“Witch.” He kissed her nose. “You drive me wild.”

She beamed at him. “Good. Glad to know some things never change.”

“And that some things do,” he said, his voice husky. “I love you.”

Hell, he'd made her cry. But they were happy tears, judging from the kisses raining on his face. She cupped
his cheeks, covered his lips with hers. Soft, warm. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, playing with his. A slow, languid kiss. Giving, sealing their love. She drew back, face streaked, heart in her eyes.

“I love you, too, Rainey.”

Smiling, he brushed her hair out of her face, wiped her tears. “A guy could get real used to this. A smart, sexy woman in his bed. Sharing his life.”

She took his hand in hers. “Is that where you want this to go? Us sharing our lives together?”

“God, yes. As soon as I put this crazy monster behind bars, I'm yours, sweetheart. Any way you want me, for as long as you want me.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Forever works.”

“It had better,” he warned playfully. “You're stuck with me, lady.”

They fell silent, simply basking in the glow. He burned to make it official. Pop the big question. And he would, eventually. But he'd ask without the specter of his stalker looming over their lives. He'd wait until the perfect time, when no more threat existed to rear its ugly head and spoil the moment. Laura deserved the best.

She snuggled into his arms again. “Can I ask you a really personal question?”

Her voice was so hesitant, he tightened his hold in a reassuring hug. “I think you've earned the right, sweetheart.”

“I saw how you reacted to Joan, and it seems like it was more than your wild suspicion that she might be connected to your case—there's some kind of story
behind it. You didn't even want to deal with the media at first. Will you tell me why you hate reporters so much?”

He kissed the top of her head. “I guess my bias started with my aunt and uncle and ended with Ashley.”

“Your aunt and uncle?” She raised up on one elbow, giving him a puzzled look.

“If you'd ever read any articles on the Internet about my family, you might have learned that my uncle was Senator John Rainey. He and my aunt died in a private plane crash on the way to a fund-raiser nearly thirty years ago.”

She frowned, mentally calculating. “You were only a kid.”

“I'd just turned thirteen. My oldest cousin, George, had just finished his degree in business and had to take on raising his younger siblings. My parents helped all they could, but he insisted on taking care of them.”

“And since they were from a prominent Texas family, the media coverage was brutal,” she guessed.

“Like you can't imagine. Suffice it to say, I grew up with a bitter taste in my mouth where reporters are concerned. When Ashley was killed, and I couldn't deal with my grief, the media made it worse.”

Laura laid a hand on his arm, face etched with compassion. “Once again, they were in your face, turning private heartbreak into public fodder.”

“I was their flavor of the month. Tracking criminals
is my job, yet that didn't stop my wife and child from being murdered, did it?”

“Oh, honey. Her death wasn't your fault.”

“I know that now, but for a while I imploded. You were there—you saw.” He gave a small smile. “But I'm grateful I have you and my friends. I don't know what I'd do without you all.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Your men have been great to you.”

“Especially Danny. Even if he did have a thing for you,” he teased.

“Hmm. I'm not so sure about that now.” As soon as the words left her lips, she wasn't sure she should've said anything. However, Austin nodded.

“I'm not so sure, either. I think maybe he was lying to himself.”

The way Austin said it, the look he was giving her, said volumes. Her eyes widened. “Do you think he's gay?”

“I'm not sure, but between you and me, I know he's struggling with the idea. Personally, I don't care. I just want him to be happy.”

“Me, too,” she said sincerely. “He's a great guy.”

“He may be interested in someone.” Austin grimaced. “It would be a hell of a lot simpler if the man wasn't a witness in our case.”

“Oh crap. That could be a tricky situation.”

“You're not kidding. The witness, Frankie, saw Matt Blankenship get lured from the club by the person we believe is our killer. Which may also put Frankie in
danger. We told him to leave town for a while, but I don't think he followed our advice.”

A horrifying thought bloomed in Laura's mind. Once it took root, it refused to let go. “Austin, have you ever considered that this man, Frankie, might be your stalker? The killer?”

He stared at Laura. “Once, maybe, but just briefly. Frankie is harmless. That man is no killer, honey.”

“How can you be sure? Remember John Wayne Gacy? Big, jovial-looking guys who dress as clowns aren't supposed to be serial killers, either. Nobody ever suspects the average guy.”

“Jesus.” He blinked at her. “I'm pretty certain Frankie isn't our man. Look, you said yourself quite a bit of strength was required to do the killings, and he's not a big man.”

“I'm just saying it's
possible
. With enough force and the right angle, anyone can commit murder,” she said gently.

“Okay, I'll grant that it's possible, I guess. But my gut says we're looking for a different man.”

“You're probably right,” she said. “I'm just thinking out loud—pay no attention to me.”

He kissed her on the lips. “No, it's fine. I'll do some digging, see if I can find out more about Frankie's background. See if he told me and Danny the truth about what clubs he frequents and how often. I was going to go by Spanky's yesterday and never got the chance, so I'll plan on doing that tonight.”

“Yeah, well. Lots of people go to those clubs. You've
been there,” she pointed out. “I'm sorry I brought it up.”

“No, now that you did, maybe it is strange that he just happened to be in the same places, that's all. What if he's not just a witness, but he actually did the crime? He described the wig and that's not something the public knows.”

She stroked his cheek. “You'll find out the truth. I'm sure it's just a coincidence.”

“Glenn always taught me there's no such thing as a coincidence, that a cop who falls into that trap might as well put a gun to his own head. I have to check it out.”

“I know.” She smiled. “If you didn't, you wouldn't be the smart, super-stud captain I love.”

He pulled her close, crushing her breasts to his chest. “Flattery will get you into my shorts, lady.”

“You aren't wearing any.”

“Lucky me.” He lowered his mouth to hers, then drew back, frowning. “Damn, I'm out of condoms.”

She twined her arms around his neck. “I don't care. Do you?”

“No. I'm healthy, you're on the pill, and I love you so damn much.” He swallowed hard, aching for her.

She pulled him down and he sank into her. Made slow, beautiful love to his lady. Pumped his hips, filling her deeper, deeper. His balls tightened as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her heat scorching him. Stroking his burning cock.

With a cry, he exploded, jetting his seed into her,
again and again, while she held him close, pressing kisses to his shoulder. Loving him.

An hour later, as they dressed hurriedly, Laura threw a glance at the bedside clock radio and squeaked. “Oh, you're
so
going to get me fired!”

He shrugged. “We'll live off my inheritance. Being the nephew of the late Senator Rainey has its advantages.”

Her mouth fell open. “So that's how your family can afford to own a place like the ranch. I'd wondered how a cop could swing it, but I wasn't going to ask. You're from old money!”

“Nah. We're not rich, but not hurting.” He grinned. “I could retire early, though.” The look on her face was beyond priceless. His financial portfolio wasn't something he broadcast. Glenn, Danny, and Shane knew. Others suspected, but it wasn't any of their damn business.

Laura was different. He wanted her to be secure in the knowledge that he could more than provide for her. Much more. A stupid macho attitude, yet important to him all the same.

She buttoned her blouse, pulled on her skirt. “Why do you put yourself at risk working for the police? Why not do something else, like cruise around the world or start your own business?”

He zipped his jeans, then slowly worked a T-shirt on over his head. Their morning fun had reminded his healing body just how sore he was.

“For the same reason my brothers still work our
family spread in South Texas when they don't have to. I love what I do, sweetheart. My job is crucial. I help crime victims and their families find closure after the most horrible event of their lives. Isn't that why you told me you became a medical examiner?” he pointed out.

“Yes,” she said softly. “You're exactly right, and that's why I love you.”

“Back atcha, beautiful.” He crossed to her in three strides, pulled her into his arms for a hot kiss. After a long moment, she groaned.

“Ease up, Captain. If I don't get into work soon, my boss is going to have my ass on a platter.”

“He's out of luck. That's my territory.” He cupped her bottom and squeezed.

“Stop it!” She wiggled out of his arms, laughing. “I'm serious. I've got a marathon day ahead. In fact, I'll probably have to work until late tonight.”

“Damn,” he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Just as well, though. I've got plenty to keep me busy until you're ready for me to pick you up. Just call me at my desk or on my cell when you're done, and I'll be there.”

“Will I have a tail?”

“Yeah, Danny. He's pulling a long shift watching you, but there isn't anyone else available. When you're at the office, he'll be staked out in the parking lot in a blue minivan. If you have to leave, make sure he sees you so he can follow.”

“And who's going to protect
you
? I'm willing to make a bet that our psycho will read this morning's
paper. Once he spies the article and the picture of us leaving the restaurant all lovey-dovey, he'll go totally Norman Bates on your ass.”

He smiled to mask the chill in his bones. “I'm counting on it. I want to push him into making a mistake, and when he does, he's toast. I can take care of myself, baby.”

“Promise me you'll be careful. I think maybe I'm the one who made the mistake in suggesting we push his buttons. If anything bad happened to you—”

He curled a finger under her chin, tilted her anxious face to meet his gaze. “Nothing bad can touch me now. Not when I have you.”

Wrong.
But with Laura in his arms, he managed to forget that you should never taunt cruel fate with thoughtless clichés.

That he'd likely shoved a psychopath over the edge, and he'd soon shove back.

Austin rubbed his eyes, which were just about crossed after staring for hours at the files spewed across his desk. He'd also made a ton of phone calls, left messages. First with Frankie's school, then with the cable company, looking for his boss. Trying to speak to an actual human being at a cable company was like shouting into the wind.

The third call had gone to the manager at the graphic design company who'd hired Frankie, contingent on his graduation in May. Austin was careful to tread lightly, not giving away too much information. Nor did he want to cause Frankie to lose the job if he was innocent.

The manager said that, yes, Matt Blankenship had brought Frankie's work to his attention because of a mutual friend—Rick Yates. Frankie and Matt weren't friends per se, as far as what Matt had told him, and the manager had given Frankie the job on his own merits. If he thought of anything else that might be helpful, he'd give Austin a call back.

There was no motive for Frankie to murder Blankenship. The guy had helped him get a job, and they weren't in competition.

Except that Blankenship resembled Austin.

Son of a bitch.

Round and round in circles. A dog chasing his tail.

Austin couldn't shake the notion that he was missing something vital. Right in front of his nose. The club was a connection, but he needed the tie to his killer.

Another call, this one to the lab. Would they rush the fucking DNA samples from the murder scenes,
pretty fucking please
? “Sure,” the overworked lab tech had sneered. “I'll just put you in line ahead of the woman who's waiting to find out whether the man who's been arrested for her husband's murder is the culprit. All righty?”

Fuuuuck.

Austin stared at his desktop, head in his hands. A copy of this morning's paper was abruptly slapped onto the desk, in front of his face.

“‘Local Police Captain Mixes Business with Pleasure'?” Glenn snarled. “How in the hell did this happen?”

He raised his gaze to the man he counted a good friend. Except when Byrne had to rein in the troops as chief. Right now, he was addressing Austin as his
boss
.

And the boss was
pissed
.

“How did what happen? The business or the pleasure?” Glenn's face darkened in anger.
Whoops, wrong tactic
. “Look, I'm—”

“Was this article your stupid idea?” he snapped.

A direct question, so he couldn't lie. “Laura suggested it, but I agreed.”

Glenn's anger warred with bewilderment. He spread
his hands. “Why, for God's sake? You got some kind of death wish?”

“I pushed the killer into making a move before. Next time I'll catch him.” Boy, did that sound arrogant.

Glenn's mouth tightened into a grim line, his dark gaze pinning his friend. He tapped the picture next to the article. “This may have been Laura's idea, but it was your call. If this goes south, you'll have to live with the results on your conscience. If the crazy bastard doesn't kill you first.”

Glenn straightened and strode to his office, slamming the door behind him.

Austin swore.
Your call . . . your conscience
. The rest of the afternoon and into the evening, Glenn's accusing words rode him hard. Concentration blown to shit, he stared unseeing at the files and waited for Laura's call. She gave him the rundown on Derek Thompson, then promised to be waiting for him at home tonight—the only part of this day he looked forward to.

Hanging up, he scrubbed at his bleary eyeballs, grinding them with the heel of his hand. Laura's report on Derek Thompson hadn't revealed anything new, except for the long strand of hair stuck to his bloodied body. Red instead of black. No surprise, since they'd figured the killer used wigs.

Like Blankenship, the man had been drugged, taken home. Tied down by somebody damn strong, probably a man, then mutilated.

A memory stirred, something about the attack in the parking lot of the hospital. Tried to pull itself forth. A man. Something about a man. The dark interior of the
van. A face inside the van's open door. Long dark hair around a masculine face—

The killer
. Good God, he'd just recalled a snippet of the stalker's actual face. But he couldn't remember the details, couldn't get a clear picture, no matter how hard he tried.

The roofie would've done that to his brain, erased the memory.

Pushing from his desk, he finally left work. Christ, he was so tired. Emotionally drained and running on empty. He had to make the stop at Spanky's tonight before he could go home, though. Checking his watch, he opted to swing by the hospital first as well. Visiting hours for Taylor would be over soon and he'd been busy the past few days.

When he arrived, he found Cara in her usual spot by the bed. This time, Taylor was sitting up, awake, watching the TV that was mounted on the wall. When he spotted Austin walk into the room, he brightened and flashed a big smile.

“Hey, Cap. How's it going?”

“It's going,” he said, walking over and shaking Taylor's hand, then hugging his girlfriend. “About time I found your lazy ass awake for a change.”

“I know. I blame all these good drugs they've been giving me.”

“How are you feeling, really?”

Taylor sobered some. “Tired. Sore. Ready to get the hell out of here.”

“When will they spring you?”

“Anytime now. I've been here for over two weeks,
and I can mend the rest of the way at home just as good as I can here,” he grumped.

Austin sympathized with the guy. Hell, he'd felt the same way before, in Taylor's position. “I hear you.”

“Got any leads?”

No sense in bullshitting one of his own detectives. “No great ones, I'm sorry to say. All we've got are a bunch of threads that need connecting. They've got one common element and we can't figure out who or what that is yet.”

“You will. I've got confidence.” Taylor paused. “Go back to the beginning, back to your lists of suspects. The men you've put away. This is so personal, there
has
to be a connection.”

“I agree, but damned if I can find it.” It was beyond infuriating.

“You will.”

They talked for a few more minutes, until Taylor's eyes began to droop. Then Austin patted the man on the shoulder and said his good-byes. “You take care and I'll see you soon.”

“You, too, Cap. Watch your back.”

“You know it.”

All the way back to his truck, he mulled over Taylor's words, and deep down he agreed. There was someone in his past who was determined to make him pay for whatever transgression he thought Austin had committed. But he'd crossed the line.

“You'd better give your heart to God, you fucker. Because your ass belongs to
me.”