Skin Tight (20 page)

In the end, compassion would be her undoing.

“So, when are
you going to kill me?” Mia asked, as he took a bite of pasta.

It was Sunday night, and she was surprised he’d returned to the condo. He’d taken off from the diner on Saturday morning after saying he’d be in touch, but she hadn’t expected to see him this soon. Jesus, but she had a lot to think about. Being with him was more complex than she’d ever imagined, probably more complicated than she wanted.

And yet she’d let him in tonight.

To his credit, he didn’t choke at the question. He chewed and swallowed before answering, “What makes you think I will?”

“Don’t I know too much?”

“And who would you tell?”

“I could tell Micor you’re not who you say you are.” She studied him for a few seconds, calculating his reaction. “But you already knew that.”

“That isn’t new. You could’ve done that since day one and you’re still walking, aren’t you?”

“But now I know the extent of your plans. What makes you sure I won’t turn you in for money? I bet there would be a finder’s fee for you.”

“More likely they would have you killed for—as you put it—knowing too much.”

Mia conceded that point, pushing the spaghetti around on her plate as he went on, “And you won’t betray me because you’re a loyal person who believes in justice. You can’t countenance Micor’s continued research any more than I can.”

“So, you’re saying you trust me.”

That question stopped him cold.

“As much as I am capable of trusting anyone,” he said at length.

“Talk about damning me with faint praise.”

He finished his food and carried the plate to the sink. “I didn’t mean it that way. Actually, Mia, I didn’t come here tonight to talk about any of this.”

“No?” Her tone invited elaboration.

“It’s been a long time since anyone knew me,” he said quietly. “And now . . . you know about Lexie, too. That renders you extraordinary.”

She tried—oh, how she tried—not to let his rare gentleness go straight to the heart of her. “You’re saying you came because you couldn’t stay away.”

Not to lay plans. Not to discuss their next move. Not to fulfill his promise to help her ferret out the embezzler. She could’ve withstood anything but this.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I should be out looking for leads. But this evening, I could only think about how you opened the door Friday night and stood in a circle of light when there was nothing for me but darkness and rain. I wanted that feeling again.”

Home.
Though he hadn’t put it that way, she recognized the yearning for a place where he’d always be welcome. Mia wanted to make all kinds of promises to wipe the blasted look from his eyes, but she couldn’t. So she did the next best thing.

She hugged him.

Despite their prior intimacy, he still tensed; she pretended she didn’t notice. Resting her cheek against his chest, she listened to his heart and counted the beats. It took almost thirty before his arms came around her in turn. His heat came as a profound shock in contrast to his untouchable air and mental distance. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was a flesh-and-blood man, not some chimera born of vengeance. Mia half suspected he’d forgotten that fact himself. She wished she didn’t want to reach him so badly; self-preservation told her it would be foolhardy even to try.

But if she’d made a habit of accepting things instead of fighting for what she wanted, she’d be working as a clerk in a small town in Minnesota. As his hands slid up her back, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself from caressing her, she realized—

Better if she loved unattainable Mark for the rest of her life. She had as much of a chance of making a life with him as with this man. But her heart insisted on Søren. On the surface, it made no sense. She had never collected stray animals or gone looking to heal the wounded. Of all the nice, normal men she’d encountered in her life, why not one of them? Why, why, why?

For long moments they stood like that while she breathed him in.
Cedar and citrus.
Doomed this affair might be, but she wasn’t going to pretend any longer. She’d felt something for him a year ago, something real, which was why she’d been so shaken when he betrayed her. Now she understood the reasons behind his decision—the little girl in the hospital bed offered a powerful incentive.

“There must be rules,” she whispered then. “Can you put work aside when you’re with me? I don’t want to wonder if you’re using me or if you have some hidden agenda.”

He offered a wry smile. “Like any other couple, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

“Very well. I promise.”

“Then you’re welcome to turn up at my place anytime you like. I’ll always get enough takeout for two.”

“God,” he breathed. “You have
no
idea how that makes me feel.”

In fact, she did. The comforting hug had shifted, and his erection pressed into her belly. Mia restrained the urge to touch him more intimately. There was no question they had great sex, but she was starting to want more. Once he settled the vendetta with Micor—and maybe she could help him do that—he might see he couldn’t spend the rest of his life alone. He wasn’t meant to. She’d never been more certain of anything.

This man ached to be needed, ached to be part of a whole. He wasn’t a lone wolf, regardless of what life had made of him.

“The idea someone’s waiting for you?”

“Not somebody. You.”

Oh, but he had a way about him. Mia took a deep breath and stepped away. “Let’s see what’s on TV.”

His expression was comical. “TV. Really?”

“What did you have in mind? Naked Twister?” She grinned over her shoulder as she headed for the living room.

“If only,” he said mournfully. “But I forgot the oil.”

Mia froze, hand on the remote, eyes wide. “Was that . . . a joke?”

“I’m rusty . . . and I might need to check Merriam-Webster to confirm, but . . . yes. I think it might’ve been.” He followed her, settling on the middle of the couch.

She dropped down on his right, turning on the TV with a flick of her thumb. “So Lifetime or Hallmark?”

“You’re a vicious, vicious woman.”

“You have no idea.”

That was true. It was funny how much she’d confided while still maintaining most of her secrets. He probably didn’t even think she had any.

While she was thinking, he plucked the remote away and wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close. “News first?”

The possessive move pleased her so much she’d have agreed to watch
The Three Stooges
. And she really hated the Stooges.

The local news had a perky blonde and a serious middle-aged man as anchors, giving out the bad tidings in digestible tidbits. Mia zoned through most of the gloom and doom. She had a pretty low tolerance for depressing information. Since she had family there—family who hated her, but family nonetheless—it was especially hard to hear about the Middle East. She was sorry the world was such a hellhole, but she didn’t see how becoming suicidal over it would help anyone.

So it was Søren’s tension that signaled her to pay attention more than the newscaster’s remarks. As if Mia had been chattering, he turned the TV up, his knuckles white on the remote.

“Police are puzzled by the discovery of the body of an unidentified female. Thus far, they have been unable to confirm her identity because of the severe burns, which doctors state are consistent with exposure to radiation.” The report cut smoothly to a canned interview of an elderly doctor, shaking his head in puzzlement. “The only time I’ve ever seen anything comparable was in pictures from Chernobyl.”

The perky blonde added, “Anyone who may have information regarding our Jane Doe is implored to come forward. Now for sports! Ted?”

“That means something to you.” She already knew it was true.

He sloughed relaxation and levity like a skin grown too small. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to go.”

“Did you know her?”

“No, but I’m sure I know who killed her, and this is the first clue I’ve come across in months.” He hesitated as if he’d kiss her good-bye and then added unwillingly, “Fancy a trip to the morgue?”

Surprise spiked through her, but Mia pushed to her feet. “Oh, undoubtedly. You give great date.”

 

 

While she got
ready, Søren borrowed her laptop to devise a plausible cover story.

Ten minutes later, they were out the door. He let her drive. This was unusual, to say the least, but Mia might come in handy.

The trip passed in relative silence. He guessed she knew the weight of his choice to take her along and didn’t want to give him second thoughts by chattering. She turned into the hospital lot, parked, and shifted to regard him. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Down. The morgue is always in the basement.”

“Comforting,” she muttered, climbing out of the car.

“Isn’t it just? Let me do the talking.”

“Obviously. I’m new to this.”

Søren led the way to the doors, where he exchanged a few words with the woman at the information desk. She pointed them down a hall, offering directions and her condolences. He nodded and headed off. The corridors were quiet and smelled of antiseptic. Now and then, they passed someone in scrubs.

As promised, there was a lift nestled back there. They took it down to the lower levels, where the halls seemed darker, despite the fluorescent lights overhead. He sensed Mia staying closer at his back, responding to the chill.

After passing a set of double doors, they came to a desk, where a slight, blond man worked at a computer. His name tag read “Jeremy.” He glanced up, a little irritated to see them. “Can I help you?”

Doubtless he thought they were in the wrong department. The guy probably gave directions a lot.

“We saw on the news that you have a Jane Doe. I came to see if it’s my sister.” He felt no shame in the lie, using false grief as grease to get what he wanted.

Sympathy softened the impatience in the man’s expression. “Oh, I’m sorry. When did she go missing?”

“About three months ago.” He hesitated and then added, “Jennifer had a history of mental illness.”

“I’m afraid you can’t ID her on sight. She’s in pretty bad shape.” The attendant was trying to spare him pain.

Fortunately, he was prepared for that. “Yes, I gathered as much from the broadcast. Perhaps I could look at her personal effects? She always wore our mother’s ring.”

“I don’t see why not. I have it bagged up and waiting to be claimed by the next of kin. Come to think of it, she did have a ring . . . and a pendant. I can’t remember what else.”

Silently, Mia took Søren’s hand, which was a nice touch. They waited at the desk until Jeremy returned, but he was frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s the weirdest thing. Her stuff is gone.”

“Did the police take it as evidence?” Søren asked.

The other man shrugged. “Could be, I guess, but there should be a record. Maybe the day guy didn’t log it properly. I’m really sorry you came all this way for nothing. If you leave your name and number, I can have someone call you in the morning.”

That would be risky. Søren wondered if the payoff would be worth it. Still, it would raise red flags if he declined. “I’m Jason Markham,” he said, deciding swiftly. “I’ll write down my cell number for you. Call me if you find anything out.”

Before he could say farewell, Mia spoke. “Could we see her? Just for a moment. It would give Jase some comfort that he did everything he could.”

Jeremy hesitated. “I don’t think it’ll help, but I can give you five minutes. I need you both to sign in and I need to see some ID.”

She squeezed Søren’s hand in alarm, but he merely smiled and handed over his driver’s license. The attendant expected it to say Jason Markham, and so it did—for him. He read it, handed it back, and Søren slid it back in his wallet.

See,
he told Mia silently.
Easy.

Within thirty seconds, they were escorted into the morgue proper, a cold room with metal exam tables and a honeycomb of silver doors. Søren realized he was still holding Mia’s hand, and he didn’t let go. The worker popped open a compartment and slid the tray out. He uncovered the body with subtle reverence.

The woman was naked, her skin melted as if it were hot wax. Her face was almost totally distorted; it would be difficult to identify her without dental records. Mia turned away with a moan. Søren couldn’t.

“My sister is twenty-seven,” he told the other man. “Does that—”

“Yes. According to the ME, she’s between twenty-five and thirty-two.”

He noticed—though the other man didn’t—that Mia was checking her hands. She turned each palm over as if looking for something, and then he froze. A symbol was branded into the woman’s skin: a stylized U with a curved tail attached. He’d never seen anything like it. Mia quietly let go and stepped back.

“Well, you were right,” he said. “I can’t tell. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

“That’s what I’m here for. If you two want to head on out, I’ll finish up here.”

Put the dead back in their boxes, you mean.
When Søren turned off Lexie’s machines, she would wind up in a place like this. And then he’d have to choose between letting her rot slowly in the ground and burning her to ash. The prospect made him sick.

This time, Mia led the way out. “Personal items don’t just vanish like that.”

“Not unless they’re trying to hide something.”

“You think Micor had something to do with it?” she asked as they got in the lift.

“There’s a good chance of it.”

“It seems like the discovery of the body was a mistake. I can’t imagine that’s the way they usually work.”