When She Wasn't Looking (14 page)

He wanted to make this good. Make it last. But his body had other ideas.

A rip echoed through the room as he opened the packet and rolled the condom on. Then he was inside of her and nothing else mattered. He felt her under him and around him.

When she tightened her legs and begged him to move, he stopped thinking at all.

Chapter Sixteen

Kurt dialed the number a second time, his anger festering with each button he punched. When the fourth ring turned to voice mail, he threw the expensive phone against the passenger door and watched it bounce to the floor.

He was not a man other people ignored. He wielded power and could shut off access on a whim. He rarely did because a smart businessman didn’t let his ego edge out a good deal. His job was to make money, and he dealt with whomever he needed to in order to make that happen.

But he had a long memory. Having someone on his payroll pretend he didn’t exist ticked him off.

Kurt glanced across the street and stared at the front door of the modest ranch house then back to the car parked in front of the garage. Kurt had seen the other man go in there a half hour earlier. It was eight at night and the guy was off shift. He wasn’t out. Even if he hadn’t heard the first call, he had a chance to pick up the second.

The man’s job required that he be tied to a phone, and there was no way he took the night off. Not with everything happening in the area.

Kurt tapped his fingers against the glass and searched for a logical explanation for the sudden vocal blackout. Nothing acceptable came to him. Maybe the job got too rough. Maybe the man thought ten thousand dollars only bought a security tape and a few seconds of a guard’s time.

Kurt disagreed. His pack of money bought access and an assistant, willing or not. Kurt took care of Stimpson to send a message to his suddenly reluctant helper. If even someone with a brief connection to Kurt was expendable, the other man should get the hint and straighten out.

He should answer when he got an important call.

Kurt stared at his phone where it lay on the floor. When the panel stayed dark, the fury whipped around inside him. His skin heated and his teeth ached from the way he held his jaw.

He hit his fist against the car window. By the third smack, the side of his hand was raw but his mind jump-started.

Enough waiting. The timing was perfect, and he couldn’t even take any credit for it. He needed Courtney. Cade Willis being in town provided the perfect cover.

All Kurt had to do was get the girl, then wrap her death around Cade’s neck and sink him with it.

But first Kurt had to get his paid law-enforcement help back in line.

* * *

C
OURTNEY SKIMMED HER BARE LEG
across the soft sheets. When she didn’t hit a warm male, she sat up.

With the cover pulled up to her chest, she reached across to Jonas’s side of the bed and flipped the clock around to face her. She had to squint to read the numbers. Three in the morning. After hours of lovemaking and one or two of sleep, she woke up sore in all the right places, but alone.

She glanced around the near-black room, forcing her eyes to adjust. Huge bed. Open closet doors and a small chest of drawers with a mirror above it on the wall. The window was closed and the bathroom dark.

Everything was exactly as she remembered when she drifted off to sleep a few hours before. Neat and orderly, nothing extra and everything in its place.

Jonas stepped out of the bathroom. He hadn’t turned the light on, so he didn’t have to turn it back off again.

He stood there naked. She took a second to drink in the sight of him. Broad shoulders angled down to a trim waist. Muscular legs and arms without an ounce of fat on them. He had the body of a runner, long and lean. He stalked rather than walked, and every step showed his strength.

She thought he was sexy the first time she saw him. Well, more like the second time. The first time she was too busy running.

He looked good in clothes and fine without them. Just watching him move around the room made her stomach perform a little flip-flop dance. She was transported back to those days when her biggest problem was her curfew. She’d get dramatic and slam doors when she didn’t get her way.

Jonas flashed her a smile and, like a teen girl getting a coveted hello from her football-player crush, she melted. It was embarrassing, really. She was a grown woman, one who’d lived through desperate days, worried the pain would never end. She should be over this feeling.

Having her throat fill and her heart triple-time its beat when Jonas casually touched her counted as an inconvenience. Screaming his name while he made love to her was as near a guarantee of future heartbreak as she’d ever experienced with a man.

Relationships were about putting a temporary bandage on the loneliness. Getting connected meant opening up your mind and heart to devastation.

No. Thank. You.

“You said your dad was in the navy, right?” She brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.

The bed dipped when Jonas sat down next to her. “And I spent six years in the army.”

“I guess that sort of experience shapes a guy.”

He trailed a finger down her arm. “I can make a bed nice and tight.”

“That’s quite a skill.” She referred more to the way the tiny hairs on her arm lifted when he touched her, but she pretended to talk about the bed thing.

“It’s never about the actual bed or the marching or any of the other regimented activities. It’s about giving you a way to think. About making everyone the same, breaking them down so you can build them back up and they can perform at top efficiency as a team.”

“I’d be terrible at that.”

He laughed. “Would be? You
are
. Every time I tell you not to move or to hold back, you ignore me.”

“It would have been chivalrous of you to refrain from responding.”

“You never listen, but I’m used to it.”

“Then you won’t be disappointed when it happens again.” She leaned into him. “And it will.”

“But there are times when following rules keeps people alive.”

“I feel like I should salute or something.”

He laughed again in a sound so rich and warm. “Yeah, I probably sound like a recruitment poster.”

“All I know is the life you describe sounds pretty rigid and rough.” She balanced her chin on her knees. “I like comfort.”

“I’d take the military over my time in the DEA any day.” His face tightened and the relaxation humming through him stopped.

She wanted to reach out and soothe him, but she also needed to hear more. Brushing a hand over his chest would lead to her being on her back on the mattress. Fun, but learning more about the man underneath the badge and orders appealed to her.

“You’ve made comments before. I’m guessing Los Angeles wasn’t your favorite city,” she said.

“Not really.” He fell back against the pillows with his arms crossed behind his head. He’d stopped talking. It was as if the mention of his past threw the no-sharing switch.

She dropped next to him and curled into his side. One hand slipped onto his chest, rubbing across his skin in the hope of calming him again. Her foot inched up his calf.

“I should let you sleep.” He said the words into her hair as his hand slid down to massage her neck.

“I like this.”

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think most women like cuddling.”

“And it scares the crap out of most men.”

“They’re idiots, then, because having a naked woman, all warm and beautiful, crowded up against you is not a bad thing.”

She smiled against his skin before placing a quick kiss on his chest. “I meant the talking and touching. The sense of intimacy.”

He raked his hand through her hair in a hypnotic beat that compared to the simple joy of brushing hair. “I think what you said is probably a nicer way of saying what I did, but yeah.”

She hated to break the mood now that the amusement had moved back into his voice. “Why do you hate Los Angeles?”

“Bad memories.”

“I’m familiar with those.”

His other hand swept over the arm across his chest. His fingers touched under her chin and lifted her face. “Your strength amazes me.”

“I have to be honest here.” She searched his face, ready to pick up on any sign of disappointment. “I’m scared all the time.”

“So?”

“Does that sound like a strong person to you?”

“It sounds smart. The world can be scary, and yours more so than most.” He kissed her, his lips passing over hers just long enough to ignite the flame before he pulled back. “Strength isn’t about never being afraid. It’s about pushing through when you are.”

“How did you get so smart?” She was joking, but the way his eyebrows pulled together, she guessed he took her seriously.

“The hard way.” His fingers tightened in her hair. “I messed up and my partner died.”

The announcement stunned her. She’d come to view him as invincible, as someone who never made a wrong move. Looking closer, she saw the pain fill his eyes and the self-hatred flatten his mouth.

“Jonas, I’m so sorry.”

“It was the only time in my life I hesitated. I held back and the guy we were chasing got the shot off first. My partner bled out before help came.”

“Tell me his name.”

“Henry McCarthy. Dead at thirty-one.” The words ripped out of him as if he said them every morning in the mirror.

She traced her finger over Jonas’s lips. “We all carry guilt that we should let go.”

He shook his head. “I deserve mine.”

The words shot through her and landed in a place she tried so hard to bury for so long. To the spot she could never scrub clean. That small space where logic disappeared and the doubts ruled.

If she’d come home, she could have saved them. If she hadn’t fought with her parents the night before, her dad might have left the house earlier or stayed out later and would still be alive today.

If Jonas had lifted his gun faster, Henry would be alive.

The nonsense rationale depended on a could-have-been. The berating thoughts didn’t have any basis in reality, but she knew how the doubts could pulse and grow.

She wanted better for Jonas, at least for tonight.

She crawled up his body until she straddled him. Her hair cascaded over his chest as she balanced over him. “Let me help you forget.”

He brushed her hair behind her ears. “Yes.”

“I can wipe it all away. Replace the bad memories with good ones.”

He pushed on her lower back until she flattened her body against his. “We’ll keep trying until you do.”

Chapter Seventeen

Jonas felt the unwanted heat from Rich’s stare and ignored it and him. They sat across from each other at Jonas’s dining-room table. Rich had showed up far too early with boxes in hand and the promise of still-warm doughnuts. Jonas would have appreciated the quick turnaround on the information and the sugary wake-up call if he had slept more than three hours the night before.

Not that he was complaining.

Thinking about Courtney and all they did while rolling across his mattress had him smiling. He could still smell her when he inhaled. Still taste her on his lips.

“Stop doing that,” Rich mumbled.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Rich threw down his pen and glared. “Your happiness is annoying as—”

Jonas held up a hand. “Okay, I get it.”

Rich balanced his crossed arms behind his head. “It’s just that things are quiet right now for me.”

“Maybe if we worked this case you’d feel better.” Jonas pointed to the paperwork spread out over every inch of the table.

If Rich picked up on the hint, he pedaled around it. “It’s not as if there are a huge number of available women in Aberdeen.”

“We’re off track here.” It wasn’t like Rich to stray off work and go on a woman tangent, and Jonas wasn’t ready to talk about Courtney or what happened last night or what could happen tomorrow. “I was saying I appreciate you showing up with breakfast.”

Rich snorted. “Sure you were.”

“I like doughnuts.” Jonas held one up as proof.

“Yeah, your mood is about the food.”

Jonas shoved a box into Rich’s line of sight. “I can’t hear you.”

“I assume everything went well last night.”

Was it written on his face or something? Jonas pushed the box off to the side again. “What did you say?”

Rich bit his lip but the smile escaped, anyway. “I’m talking safety-wise. You did have an attempted break-in here yesterday.”

“I know.”

Rich lowered his arms and folded them on the table in front of him. “Do you?”

The murders and other crimes never strayed far from Jonas’s mind. Even after Courtney fell asleep last night, he lay there turning over all the facts, trying to find an answer.

Paul Eckert. Ron Stimpson. The man in the forest whom Walt still hadn’t identified. It all traced back to Cade Willis. No matter what the reason or how the timing fell out, that was a long list of men searching for Courtney and involved in a decade-old crime the police considered closed.

Someone was willing to kill an FBI agent to keep secrets hidden, a move that guaranteed feds would be crawling all over this case any minute now. Once they figured out this wasn’t about an agent killed on vacation, the questions would start and so would the press coverage. Jonas was trying to keep the lid on it until then. To stall and get some traction before he lost the lead.

The same someone who killed Eckert risked everything to make a run at Jonas’s back door, and possibly hired the guy to kill Courtney in the forest and grab her at Stimpson’s place.

The fire chief thought a gas leak might explain the apartment explosion, but Jonas didn’t buy the coincidence. He didn’t have to sort through the burned pieces to know the inspector would come to a different conclusion.

The path of death and destruction kept growing. That meant they were dealing with a person with nothing to lose. And that scared the hell out of Jonas.

But outward panic wouldn’t solve anything. Neither would talking about his sex life. He wasn’t that guy, anyway. Neither was Rich, but if his wide eyes meant anything he sure seemed interested in the details this time around.