Dance with the Devil (20 page)

Suddenly Emma wished she hadn't initiated the situation. The tension between them was almost unbearable. But the need, the desire, the desperate urge to make love with him was equally strong.

'Mine,' she whispered.

As she went to turn on the bedroom light, Drew's hand closed over hers. He led her to the double bed and switched on the bedside lamp. Its soft glow illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows across their still figures.

Emma sensed a subtle shift in the way Drew looked at her now. Before, she thought he would not have used force to get his way with her. Now she realised he didn't have to. His inherently powerful sexuality was enough to cause her to tremble.

But the sure movements of his hands as he unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off, and the shudderingly erotic kisses trailing down her neck to the valley between her breasts, warned her the rules had changed.

She barely noticed her bra slipping to the floor - the sheer ecstasy as he drew her nipple into his mouth spun her senses. For long, beautifully torturous minutes his lips and teeth rasped and suckled one peak then the other. He slid her jeans down and caressed her through the soft lace of her panties.

Before she was aware of how swiftly it had happened, she was lying naked on the bed, and Drew's clothes had joined hers on the floor. She'd seen his naked body before, but now she caught her breath. In full arousal and his body quivering with barely controlled passion, he was magnificent.

She reached out, and elicited a jerky groan as his tender flesh quivered beneath her touch.

She was a helpless victim to the fire in his eyes. And he was ruthless in his determination. His slow, sensuous kisses seemed to cover every portion of her skin, sizzling like fire on ice, while his fingers slipped inside her, moving gently in her soft, moist warmth.

Just when she felt she couldn't take any more, when her body was screaming out to be filled, she vaguely heard the rip of foil. Then his lips were on hers, tasting, demanding, while he entered her in one long, slow movement.

It felt so right, so damned unbelievably wonderful, that she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper into her. Then she stopped, savouring the sheer bliss invading her body. Drew, too, was still, and she looked into his eyes and saw a reflection of her own rapture.

He moved slowly. Long, sure, slow thrusts as he captured her mouth with his, a kiss so erotic and sensual that mind and body melded until she could no longer think, only feel.

Feel his firm lips weaving magic with her soft ones, the heat of his body covering hers, his thick silky hair between her fingers. Her hands slipped down his neck, teased his flat nipples.

A deep, pulsing pleasure grew within her. She moved faster against him, desperate to reach its zenith, but he refused to hurry. She almost screamed in frustration at the deliberate slowness of his thrusts. The pleasure grew and grew. The tension arched her body as the little spasms began. Her head thrashed from side to side, fingernails digging into his arms.

Only then did Drew allow himself the pleasure of matching Emma's need. He pounded into her, giving her what she longed for. And as she cried his name and shuddered beneath him, her womb contracted around him and the fullness in his groin exploded, carrying him to the ecstasy he'd found with her once before.

Emma barely registered the weight of Drew's body on hers. But his tender kiss, his murmured endearments and gentle caresses, sank into her soul.

She nuzzled his neck, enjoying the masculine scent of him, hungry still for the touch of his skin on hers. She had promised herself this one night, she'd thought it would suffice her for the long lonely nights when she was back in foreign lands, dealing with the traumas of war and famine. But as Drew's lips found hers and the mindless ecstasy engulfed her again, she wondered if a lifetime with him would ever be enough.

They made love once more before giving in to a more mundane hunger. Drew showered while Emma cooked a simple stir-fry and rice. Their conversation centred on equally mundane matters, as though by unspoken agreement their relationship was out of bounds.

While Drew made coffee, Emma had a quick shower. Her fingers flew across her sensitised flesh, not daring to linger. To her amazement, she still wanted him. Twice had not been enough. If she aroused herself now she would not be able to restrain herself long enough to talk. And she had a question that needed answering.

She wrapped a sarong around her naked body and joined Drew in the living room. He was sitting on the lounge, waiting for her to join him, but she sat on a single chair. She couldn't trust herself to be so close to him without touching him. And she knew where that would lead.

'Drew, Chayse is involved with the police, isn't he?'

His startled look was swiftly replaced by withdrawal. 'What gives you that idea?'

'I'm not a fool, Drew. He knows too much about everything - the judge, police procedures. You never even said he existed, and he's evasive about what he does for a living. So which side of the law is he on?'

Drew laughed, and the tightness gripping Emma eased.

'He's a cop, Emma. The reason I don't mention him is he works undercover a lot. He operates out of Brisbane. When he comes home he usually stays with me, but with the house burnt down Mick offered him a bed. In the work he does he has to be careful. I guess trying to protect him is just a habit.'

'He said something similar.'

A dark eyebrow raised. 'Discussing family secrets?'

'Only the good ones,' she smiled. Then she stood up. 'I'm going to bed.' It was an invitation, and he knew it. In one fluid motion he stood before her, his fingers tracing above the sarong across her breasts, then drawing circles around the knot. Emma shivered, his touch more arousing than any erotic thoughts.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she hoped she wasn't courting future heartbreak, but for now she ignored logic and gave in to the strongest desire she had ever known.

Dawn streaked pale gold across rugged green bushland and filtered through Emma's bedroom curtains. Drew propped on one elbow and looked at her. Strands of toffee-coloured hair whispered fine lines across her high cheekbones. Her lips were slightly parted, and his urge to kiss them was great.

But he controlled the urge, allowing himself the indulgence of watching her while she slept, while her control wasn't in evidence and she was vulnerable to him.

He loved her. With every fibre of his being, with every breath he took, he loved her.

And with every breath he took came the fear of losing her - to the job he feared meant more to her than he did. He knew it was selfish, but he prayed she was pregnant. He was desperate enough to accept anything that would tie her to him. The thought of her swollen and beautiful with his child was a powerful aphrodisiac.

The urge became too great, and he woke her to his need, rejoicing in the way she welcomed him into her body, hoping she had also welcomed him into her heart.

Their lovemaking this time was sweet, languorous and, although he hadn't thought it possible, even more fulfilling. With each moment, Drew hoped the bond between them had strengthened.

They slept, suspended in that twilight world of utter satiation.

At eight o'clock, Drew woke Emma.

'I'm meeting Chayse at The Centre at half past,' he told her. She nodded sleepily, then curled back into the pillow.

'I don't want to leave you here alone. At least not without Bruno.'

Emma looked at the bedside clock. 'Mum should be home within fifteen minutes. I'll be fine. I'll come in as soon as I've talked to her.'

Drew hesitated. He didn't want to leave her, but surely she'd be safe for such a short time. It was a temptation to stay - she looked so damned appealing, her naked shoulders pale against the colourful patterned sheets. But there were a lot more files to get through, and he was terribly afraid the killer had more potential victims on his list. It was imperative that they find the thread that bound him to Dario and the judge and see who else might be at risk.

He kissed her softly. He was tempted to tell her he loved her, but knew that for the moment he would have to be content with sharing what she could give. Perhaps soon…

'Definitely the cat that got the cream,' Chayse said after observing his brother surreptitiously for ten minutes.

Drew shifted in his chair and dragged another file onto the desk. 'What are you talking about?'

'You,' Chayse laughed. 'If I don't miss my guess, you've made some headway with your favourite medical practitioner.'

'I want to marry her, Chayse.'

The surprise on Chayse's face quickly changed to delight. 'Great! I've always felt the eldest should be the first to succumb to the bonds - or should that be the chains - of holy matrimony.'

He raised one eyebrow, and Drew observed the anomaly of sharing so many characteristics but no genetics with the man he called brother. But the bond they shared went beyond blood, it was a deep friendship they shared with no other. A sudden horrible thought occurred to him that perhaps the killer knew about Chayse, had already targeted him.

'Have you asked her?'

Chayse's question sidetracked his thoughts. He shook his head. 'No. I haven't even told her I love her yet. She…'

A chirruping sound erupted from Chayse's belt. He reached for his mobile phone, grabbed a pen and wrote on some paper Drew pushed to him.

Frustration hardened his features as he turned off his mobile. 'Another three possibilities bite the dust.' He rummaged through the pile of 'possible' files and dragged three onto the desk.

'Jason Kominsky - alive and well and happily married in Sydney. Paul Smith - legs in plaster after a car accident two months ago. Simon Hall, died in prison over a year ago.'

Drew frowned at the mention of Simon's name. 'Sad case, that one. Simon was raped by another prisoner and committed suicide.'

'What was he in for?'

'Drug dealing. Possession of stolen property. I'd defended him a few years previously on a lesser charge, got a suspended sentence. This time he got prison.'

'What about the crim who raped him? It's a long shot, but could he have had something against you?'

'Highly doubtful. Besides, he was murdered himself when he got out of prison.'

As the last word left his mouth, Drew's expression changed, and he reached for the file. He scanned it quickly.

'I didn't make a note of it here, but Mick told me there was something very peculiar in the way he was murdered. He'd been bound and gagged and stuffed in a barrel. Then the barrel had been filled with salt so that he suffocated.' He looked at Chayse. 'The peculiar thing was that his penis had been cut off before he'd been shoved in the barrel.'

Chayse winced. 'Was it still with the body?'

'Yes.' He gave a grimace of distaste. 'It had been stuffed in his mouth before the gag was tied; or re-tied. The neighbours didn't hear any screams so it would appear he was gagged when it was cut off. The police dismissed any weird cult theory. They couldn't find any clues and eventually put it down as a revenge killing. This guy had a history of homosexual rape, so the suspects were numerous.'

'Someone with a van would have had no problems carting around a barrel and bags of salt,' Chayse mused. 'Had the guy been charged with Simon's rape?'

'The charge was dropped. There were no witnesses and without Simon's testimony there was no case.'

'So no-one had been made to pay for Simon's death. Any revenge-seeking relative that you know of?'

'I never met his father, only his mother. Simon wouldn't tell me where his parents lived - he said he wanted nothing to do with them. I thought there must have been some history of abuse, but when I met his mother, I wasn't so sure. She must have found out about the trial because she turned up at the end when he was being sentenced. She obviously loved him, and he broke down and cried when she hugged him. She was only a tiny thing, nervous, jumpy. She thanked me for trying to help Simon, then she scuttled from the courtroom.'

'So where was the father?'

'I asked, but she didn't answer.' Drew rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. 'She did say something about Simon having to pay for his mistakes - something about atoning for his sins.' He stood abruptly. 'Come on. I want to see the police report on Simon's rapist. There are far too many biblical connotations linking up here. Someone attempts to crucify me, Dario is killed with what looks like a sacrificial dagger, the judge…' he paused.

'Apart from the broken neck, it could look like a stoning,' Chayse filled in.

'Yes. And now we have a criminal who's been turned into the proverbial pillar of salt.'

'Don't forget the firebombing of our house. The Old Testament was full of fire and brimstone.'

Drew grabbed his keys from the desk drawer. 'Speaking of fire and brimstone, what's it like staying with Mick?'

Chayse grinned. 'Let's just say, older brother, that in the accommodation stakes, you're the only one who picked a winner.'

The fire may have dimmed, but the brimstone was evident in Mick's caustic comments as he listened to Drew's hypothesis of the biblical allusions.

Drew took a swallow of his coffee, remembering the last time he'd sat at Mick's desk, stinking of smoke and ash. The shock of losing his house hadn't struck him then, only the relief that Emma hadn't been harmed in the attack.

'We've had no luck tracing the white van,' Mick rumbled. 'We've checked out the owners of every blue-striped white van in Cairns and they all have an alibi for the time of AA's murder or no connection to it. So now we're starting on the outlying areas.'

'What about the dagger that killed Dario? Any clues there?'

Mick shuffled through the feral paperwork on his desk. 'Got the report back this morning. Seems it was made from a French bayonet. Old one. But the markings on it are Vietnamese. Could have been a war souvenir.'

'Traceable?' Chayse asked hopefully.

Mick shook his head, and the movement seemed to vibrate all the way to his belly. 'I'll drag out Simon's file and track down all his associates. Maybe one of Simon's friends is on a vengeance kick. And it won't hurt to check up on Simon's family. Any idea where they live?'