Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2) (33 page)

He closed the door, set down their baggage and watched her—the woman who helped the
helpless, with love for family, the real woman, the sexy woman with the understanding
of every part of him, and with a great spinning side kick. His woman. "I'll call for
room service. Requests?"

"Mmm." She shook her head. "You choose. I'm taking a shower." She took out her shower
bag and pranced to the bathroom. He heard a loud squeal.

Andy grinned as he put their suitcases in the closet.

Rose stood for a minute in awe. "Holy cow! This is bigger than my entire apartment!"
she yelled loud enough for him to hear.

A glass-enclosed stall held several shower heads at all different levels. Next to
it was a Jacuzzi big enough for six people. There were fresh flowers in vases scattered
around the room and bottles of water chilling in ice buckets. Everything smelled of
floral potpourri. She decided on the shower, turning the water to somewhere near piping.

Tossing her clothes on the floor, she stood naked, reading the controls on the wall
for the heated floor and towel bars. With her hand over her mouth, she stifled a laugh
and stepped onto the polished tile. The blazing water beat in pulses over every inch
of her. Any and all aches kneaded and melted from her body along with most of the
tension from her week.

She lifted her arms and placed the palms of her hands on the tile in front of her.
The noise of the rushing water encompassed her as it ran over her head and down her
back. Inside, she tried to sort out the vast array of emotions sifting between her
heart and her head.

Her mother had kept the truth of the murder of her great-grandfather a secret for
nearly two decades. Kept her conception a secret for almost three. Rose couldn't keep
back the anger and resentment, but it was clouded with wrenching pain for what her
mother had endured.

Rose had spent eight years getting over the loss of the only man she'd every truly
loved—no. She wasn't going there. Spilled milk. He was hers now. And, she had to admit,
the timing was right. Natural. They were both ready, ready and in love. She tilted
her head back, letting the water run over her face and down the front of her body.
Opening her eyes, she could see her ring through the rush of water, then she heard
the door open. Through the heat of the water, an electric chill erupted from the tips
of her toes and the top of her head, driving every sensation to her center.

He stepped in behind her. He felt cool against her back, and she could feel he was
just as aroused. Twining his hands around her slippery waist, he pulled her against
him and sighed noisily in her ear.

She didn't back away from the blast of water and instead let it run over them as he
kissed the back of her neck, his glorious hands moving along her wet skin.

"I love you." Her voice was as silky as her skin and it took him under. They fit.
She was soft and warm and his.

Taking her firmly in his hands, he squeezed as he pulled her closer. Possessively
and lazily, he circled. Her body arched deeply into his hands, the back of her head
pressed against his neck. He ran his lips across and down her wet shoulder.

Leaving one hand on her, the other trailed possessively down her silky stomach. He
stopped at her lower belly and pulled her tighter. Her wet back molested him. She
shuddered beneath his lips and hands. As she rocked back into him, he struggled with
keeping a slow pace and continued until he reached her. The crest was instant. Her
arms flew up, one bracing against the tile and the other grabbing his hand as he held
her.

She cried out, loud and throaty. As her limbs started to give, he held her firmly,
but didn't stop. Gently at first, he led her up again. Her body became limp and her
arms rose slowly, wrapping around his neck. Inviting. Surrendering. Making it impossible
for him to keep focus. He was completely lost and completely in love.

As she reached the next peak, her head flew back into his shoulder, and she shuddered
and shook. Feeling like he was holding up a wet noodle, he let her come down, then
reached for the soap. Sloppily, she took the bar from his hands, set it down and traded
places behind him. Taking his arms, she placed his hands on the tile where hers had
been. She looked at the ring on her finger as she spread the soft bubbles up his back,
down his arms and around to his chest.

She thought how his muscles, still pronounced, weren't as massive as they'd been when
they were younger. He was more defined now. She traced her fingers around the lines
of his lats to his abs. She could lose herself in him, in this. Swirls of passion,
their future and the intense need she let herself fall into strengthened her desire.
Pressing against his hard backside, she reached around and explored the outline of
the soapy squares of his six-pack down to his thick thighs. She let her body rub along
him.

Andy knew her well enough to know that she wasn't the type to accept without giving
back. He felt her against his back, her hands and the moment she found him.

Bracing, he dropped his head between his outstretched arms holding out, waiting until
primal instinct took over. He needed to touch her. Turning, he took hold of the back
of her thighs, lifted her easily, and hitched her legs around his sides. He waited
until she looked at him. Then, watched her blue eyes as they joined.

The blue grew foggy as she let out a staggering growl and dug her fingers into the
muscles on his back. Her face was intense, her grip fierce. Hot water sprayed over
them as their pace quickened; he rotated her back to the wall.

Without breaking eye contact, he dropped his forehead to hers as she nodded. He grabbed
hold of the backs of her thighs as they went over the final edge together. They stood
for what seemed like a long and glorious time. Gasping and shuddering, the water ran
over them until their breathing returned to normal.

His legs were nearly as weak as hers. So, he used his body weight and the wall of
the shower to keep her wrapped around him. He began to lower her feet to the floor,
but she grunted and locked the backs of her feet together behind him.

He sighed at the overwhelming feel of her all around him, inside and out. He turned
off the water with one hand, then grabbed one of the large, heated towels. He carried
her half-covered to the bed. Dropping her gently down, he lay on his back next to
her and tossed the towel over the two of them.

With his forearm covering both his eyes, he muttered, "They said forty to fifty minutes."

"Hmm?" Rose lay in the exact same position.

"Room service. They said forty to fifty minutes."

She opened one eye at him. "That was forty to fifty minutes ago."

* * *

Amanda went to the station after work instead of going home alone, just as she'd promised.
She stayed out of the way, listening quietly as the team waited for a conference call
with the assistant to the office of Nicaragua's ambassador to the United Nations.

Miguel. That was his name. After all these years, she knew his real name. Miguel Ramirez.

Silence followed a series of beeps as Lieutenant Tanner, Dave and Officer Savage straightened
in their chairs. Amanda assumed the assistant to the ambassador had connected. Dave
looked over at her and she took the hint, slipping out to wait in the break room.

Her feelings were divided. Part of her was relieved that his face was broadcasted
on news stations and posted in every train, bus and police station from here to the
Mississippi. The other part of her was terrified for the very same reason.

He was getting closer. Had he recognized Rose when he was spotted at the end of the
Reeds' drive? Or was he simply scouting the area like he did? Waiting for a time when
Amanda would be alone... just as Dave was trying to avoid.

It didn't seem long enough before Dave opened his door for her again. She wondered
if it went badly but didn't ask. She was only allowed in the room as a civilian consultant
and knew not to push her luck.

She listened as they reviewed the call. From what she could gather, the ambassador's
assistant wasn't nearly as upset about the breach in their database. There was a local
warrant that was very old. What she found interesting was they discovered his father
had allegedly raped his mother and, in turn, conceived him. Irony.

He was half white, light-skinned with blond hair. A gringo. She remembered the degrading
term from her days in Nicaragua. The consultant psychologist would have a field day
with all of that, she thought. All she saw was a weak man who liked to abuse and control
women... whatever the reason.

Dave. She sighed. She was forgiven. He was so focused as he used his hands to explain
plans to his assistant. Tanner left and was replaced with a handful of paper-pushers.
That was what Dave called them. They flipped through a slide show that Officer Savage
had created, showing grainy photos of possible sightings in convenient stores, train
stations and buildings that were home to other victims.

"Stop." She bolted out of her chair, abandoning all plans to stay out of the way.

The eyes of Dave, Officer Savage and the handful of lower-level officers on the case
turned to look at her.

"Go back. Go back, please." There. That was him. She angled her head to be certain,
then repeated aloud, "That's him."

Officer Savage spoke up first. "Are you sure? It's barely a profile, Mrs. Nolan. Not
a close up."

"It's him. I... I can't tell you... it's the way he's standing... or I guess, walking."

Officer Savage read the date and location of the photo. "Boston, two weeks ago. Apartment
hallway."

Amanda wrung her hands.

"Get BPD on the phone. Find out who lives there."

Chapter 27

They took the first flight out. Thankfully, Dave included Amanda in her civilian consultant
capacity. Lieutenant Tanner had agreed with Dave that the other victims would be more
likely to open up to her, especially since Miguel had a history of threatening women
if they went to the police. Dave had explained that the lieutenant granted leave and
funding for stops at three of the most likely other hits: Chicago, Boston and Pittsburg.
He said it made up three flights and two over-state-line trips in rental cars. It
was going to be a long two days.

The station in Boston was much like the one in Northridge right down to the smell
of the stale coffee. Dave came out of the captain's office at the Boston Police Department.
He'd asked Officer Savage to wait with her. Amanda recognized that she would wait
without question because he asked her to, but also that it burned her up. "VanDellan,
Rebecca." Dave gestured his head toward the stairwell.

Amanda hugged herself as they walked toward the exit.

"Age thirty-seven. Found dead in her apartment at the corner of Washington and Jefferson."
Dave read as he walked down the stairs, pausing to wait when they heard other footsteps.
"Four reports in the past five years of robbery and assault. The first was a sexual
assault."

"Penetration?" Amanda asked.

Dave winced, then nodded.

"So, he kills some, especially when he's been scorned."

"Apparently. We've gotten the okay to view the scene. The captain's sending a local
uniform as an escort."

* * *

The smell of death still permeated the air. Amanda didn't attempt to cover her nose.
The place was small. The woman had lived alone. She wondered if it was because she
didn't want to bring this down on the people she loved.

It felt eerie as she stood out of the way and watched Dave and Officer Savage work.
They wore gloves but still were careful not to tamper with anything. How many times
had he been here? she wondered. How many years? What made him choose her? Would all
that be in the police report? She would wait to ask Dave. She imagined the woman saying
just the wrong words with Miguel in just the right state of mind, and realized how
lucky she was to still be alive today.

Barely, she noticed something warm and wet on her face. Her purse slipped down her
arm. The room became louder. The air conditioning? Why was it so loud?

She came to in Dave's arms. He was rocking her.