Keeping the Peace (23 page)

“Yes,” he said, “and we’re still in love, but it’s different now, isn’t it?” His hand slid down her parka to where her breast was under the thick material. “Like now, all I want to do is go home with you, get naked, and stay in bed for two days. We can’t, though, because, as we speak, our house is inhabited by a horny rock star and three kids. Maybe more, for all I know. And two dogs and a wood stove and noise. All I want is you and a bed.”

Melanie’s guilt was retreating, jabbing at her a little less. She was feeling reassured by his protestations of devotion to her. “Those are the rewards of love,” she whispered.

“No,” he said, “this is the reward of love.” His hands went up under her parka, and he caressed her. “Do you think we’ve got time before the next snow plow comes through?”

She laughed and pushed his hands away. “No, I don’t. And how would it look for the police chief to be caught in a compromising position in the middle of the work day? In the town vehicle, no less!”

He sighed and scowled. His hands returned to the steering wheel, but the vehicle remained stationary. “We’re husband and wife. We can compromise each other anytime we want. Twenty-five years ago, we would have done it, right there. No excuse could have stopped us.”

Melanie nodded. “It is different, yes. But, John, you’re my best friend in the world, and I love you more than anything. The only reason we would have done it here twenty-five years ago is because we couldn’t go home and do it because we weren’t sleeping in the same bed yet.”

“Do you still…” he said softly. “Do you still desire me? Even with a couple extra pounds?”

Her guilt rose up and slapped her across the face. “Of course! You’re the sexiest man I know. To me, that’s all that’s important. When we’re somewhere, with bunches of people all around, you’re still the only one I want to leave with.” She spoke the truth, and it comforted her. Her attraction to Gabriel was fading in the heat of her husband’s desire for her.

Involuntarily, she moved toward him.

“Get in the back seat,” he said with a slight growl in his voice.

Her stomach leaped, and she scrambled over the console like a teenager.

He shut the vehicle off, got out of the front seat, opened the back door, and got in beside her. A click of the keys locked them in.

She watched as he took off his jacket, wadded it into a ball, and placed it against the far door. She felt his hand on her chest as he pushed her backwards. She searched his eyes. They were glassy and hard and boring into her own. He unzipped her parka and pushed her sweater up around her neck. Reaching behind her, he unclasped her bra, exposing her breasts. He squeezed them hard with both hands and bent over her, kissing her. She opened her mouth and let his tongue in. He bit at her lips and pulled away. Dropping his head to her chest, he played with her taut nipples with his teeth and tongue until she moaned and writhed. He gave a wry smile as he unzipped her jeans and slid them down over her knees. He pulled off her heavy snow boots and one leg of her jeans. Grabbing her thighs in his big hands, he forced her legs open, pushing one over the edge of the seat and hoisting the other up over the seatback. His roughness surprised her, frightening and exciting her at the same time.

Bracing herself with one foot on the floor, she surrendered completely to him, lying on the seat in her panties, trembling. He pulled the crotch of her panties to one side, lowering his head. His tongue penetrated her, and she moaned again. He straightened up, on his knees on the seat, and recklessly pulled off the offending panties. She moved her leg back on the seat, but he pushed it off again, cupping her mons in his hand. He squeezed her hard and then shoved two fingers into her up to their hilt. She cried out, and then his other hand was over her mouth. Her eyes closed in rapt pleasure as his fingers moved in her, working her to a fever. Her face flushed, and she nearly lost her breath.

He removed his hand and held his finger up to his lips. “Not a sound,” he whispered. “Open your legs.”

She obeyed.

“Wider,” he said.

She opened them as wide as the space permitted. He spread the folds of her vulva until her clitoris, hard and throbbing, was exposed to him. He flicked at it with his fingers, pulled at it, squeezed it. Melanie trembled uncontrollably and arched her back. She opened her mouth. Instantly, his hand was covering it again.

“No sound,” he said again.

She shuddered, crazy for her orgasm. Suddenly, he pulled back. The car was beginning to cool off, and her skin prickled with the cold, adding to the intensity of her sensations. Desperately, she reached for him, but he laughed harshly and pushed her arms back.

“Don’t move,” he said.

He was dominating her, she realized. This was about him. And yet, she was being driven to distraction by it. He reached under her with both hands and spread her buttocks, running his little finger over her anus, poking at it, rimming it, pushing at it until he pushed in up to his first knuckle. Now she cried out as delicious, sharp waves of lust washed over her. He laughed, pushing in farther, moving in and out of her, flicking at her engorged clitoris at the same time.

John straightened up again, pulling back from her. He tore off his shirt and unzipped his pants. His holster dropped to the floor of the car. He was erect and hard. He knelt over her for a second, one hand on the shaft of his penis, one hand on her belly. Then he buried himself in her wetness and began his thrusts. It was all she needed. Her orgasm flooded her senses almost before he entered her, and the muscles of her vagina squeezed him into her until she felt him give himself over to his passion and explode within her. He collapsed on her, and they lay, breathing in unison and waiting for their heartbeats to slow.

Finally he stirred and, partially raising himself, kissed her on the mouth. “Nobody could get me going like that except you,” he whispered.

She gave a little laugh. “That was, um, a little different. Amazing.”

“I love you,” he said.

“And I love you,” she answered, satiated.

They dressed. Melanie climbed back over the console, taking her seat demurely. She watched John as he stood outside, strapping on his holster, straightening his jacket, and pulling on his leather gloves. A thrill went through her again, and she sighed.

John got in and started the car. “We got away with that one!”

“We did,” Melanie laughed. “I feel like a guilty kid!”

“Speaking of guilty kids, we’ve got a house full of them. We’d better get back.”

“Our kids aren’t guilty.”

“They must be, of something. And Strand is definitely guilty—of trying to seduce my wife.”

“John. Please, let’s not re-open that.”

“Shh,” his voice soothed her. “I’m okay now. But please don’t go kissing every man in town just so we can have hot make-up sex on all the back roads!”

She laughed at that, relieved. Then, more soberly, she said, “What about this Seeley person, though? Gabriel may be a horny rock star, but I don’t want him getting hurt.”

“Neither do I,” John said, giving his short, sharp sigh. “I’m just hoping we can get to the bottom of this case and keep him alive.”

Melanie glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. I told him I’d take him down to my office, where he could have a conference call with the band and fax them some of the production numbers.”

They had come to the end of the white road where the snow shone like ice crystals. They were back in the real world. John pulled out onto the main route back to town.

Chapter Sixteen

“I’
VE
G
OT
T
O
G
ET
B
ACK
and find Richard Seeley and the mysterious Kayla.”

They had reached the house and kissed quickly over the console.

As Melanie stepped out of the vehicle, Gabriel surprised them as he held the passenger side door open. “Can I talk to you a minute, Chief?”

Melanie said quickly, “I’ll be in the house. See you later, John.”

John motioned to Strand. “Get in.”

Strand climbed in and shut the door. He was not wearing a coat.

John turned up the heat in the idling Suburban instinctively, as he would have done for any child. “What is it?” he asked.

Strand sat staring at the floor, his brow furrowed in a puzzled scowl. “I didn’t tell you everything about this Kayla person.”

“Well, what a surprise.” John usually didn’t resort to sarcasm, but this time, he couldn’t help it.

Strand looked up, chagrined. “When you brought it up, I felt uncomfortable talking about it in front of…of all your kids.”

“And Melanie,” John finished his sentence for him.

This time, Strand met the chief’s eyes. “And Melanie,” he acknowledged in a clear voice. Their eyes remained locked, the cool, hazel gaze of the police chief subtlety attempting to quell the defiant fire that smoldered beneath the surface of the young man’s deep brown stare.
At least we understand each other
, thought John. The fire was there, but John had the upper hand, and Strand knew it. He was the police chief. He was providing protection. He, John Giamo, was the husband.

At last, Gabriel looked down. He said, “She is a special woman.”

John answered him generously and without guile, “Yes, she is. I’m glad you recognize it.” He rubbed his hand over his face, regrouping his thoughts. “This isn’t about Melanie, Strand. This is about you and a murder and your personal safety.” The young man was silent. “So tell me about Kayla.”

Strand laced and unlaced his fingers and then said, “What I said before was true. She did somehow get into the party after our concert. We had just made it big. She made a play for Justin, but he’s got a girlfriend and is strictly monogamous. I don’t think she had a particular person in mind, as long as it was a member of the band. I’d had quite a bit to drink, so I just stepped in. I told myself I was helping my friend deflect unwanted attention, but I was thinking of myself, too.”

John stifled another sarcastic thought.

Strand talked on. “We spent most of the party drinking together. I guess we talked. I can’t remember what we said. Stupid stuff. You know, party stuff. Then she came back to the hotel with us. We all went back together, but we had separate rooms. She came to my room with me and stayed the night. In the morning, I had a real early plane, so we had to get up and get out of there. She walked down to the lobby with me and I said, like, goodbye and thank you or something stupid like that. Then she says, ‘I’ll see you in Chicago.’ I said, trying to be nice, something like, ‘Oh, I won’t have time in Chicago. I really enjoyed last night, but I’m on the road now for six months.’ Then she said, ‘I’ll find you,’ and she laughed and walked away.” Strand stopped, took a deep breath, and laced his fingers together again.

John prompted him, saying, “And? That’s it?”

Strand shook his head. “No. When I got to my hotel in Chicago, there was a big bunch of red roses waiting for me. No name. I thought they might be from my mother, but they weren’t. Then, after the show in Chicago, we had a party like we always do, in our suite at the hotel. Somehow, this girl Kayla got in. We found out later that one of the security guys let her in. Anyway, I was surprised, but I didn’t think much of it. We were really pumped, you know, because of this incredible, unbelievable success we were having. I don’t think anything could have bothered me at that point.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. That is, nothing as I saw it. She hung around me, and we talked and drank together, but I was kind of attached to this other girl I’d met earlier in the evening, before the show. She was our manager’s sister. She was pretty, she reminded me of, like, well…” He was talking faster now. “Anyway, she was pretty. I liked her. Actually, I
like
her. She’s back in LA, and I’ll probably see her when I get home. We were sitting in a corner, just talking, and Kayla comes up. I said hi and introduced her to Natalie—that’s the girl I was with. She looked weird, man, like wild or something. She said, ‘Who’s this?’ I said, ‘A friend of mine.’ She said I wasn’t allowed to have friends that pretty. Then she laughed, and I got freaked out. I took Natalie by the hand and tried to move to another part of the group, but Kayla followed right along, talking to Natalie, saying stuff like she knew me.”

“Like what?”

“Like, she said, ‘Well, he always acts like this when he’s on the road. It’s all I can do to keep him in line.’ Like we were a couple or something.”

“Hmm,” said John. “Go on.”

“She wouldn’t leave us alone. Finally, she goes, to Natalie, ‘You can go home now, bitch.’ Whoa! I told her that was out of line. Then, she said I couldn’t treat her like that, and she shoved Natalie up against the wall.”

“Physical assault?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“I didn’t fool around. I called our security guys, and they got her out of there. I haven’t seen her since, but she’s definitely gone creepy. It turned out that there was a bunch of red roses waiting for me in every hotel room on the tour. Also, I started getting those e-mails on the Ragged Rainbow web site. They spooked me because there were quite a few references to personal things, but then I realized there was nothing there that couldn’t be found somewhere online, like gossip sites and stuff like that.”