Dark and Deadly 00 - Secrets Exposed (9 page)

“She’s gone,” Lindsey whispered but didn’t move out of his arms.

His answer came slow. “Yes, I believe she is.”

“Uh, we should get out of here.” She all but stammered the words. Still she didn’t move.

“I suppose we should,” he said, in a husky voice as he pulled her tighter against his body and lightly brushed his lips against hers. Then, nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “Mission accomplished.”

And she knew he was talking about winning her surrender.

* * * * *

Standing at the door of Elizabeth Moore’s apartment, now maintained by her former roommate, Lindsey felt a tightening in her chest. One of the things she hated the most about her involvement in criminal law was the pain of the family and friends of the victims. At the same time, it was that very thing that had driven her to get out of bed each day. Fighting for justice was the only thing that could be done to help. And if that meant getting an innocent person set free, then so be it. At least, then, attention would be turned to finding the real criminal.

The door opened, revealing a young woman with dark hair and eyes, and a less than welcoming expression on her pale face. “Can I help you?” Her tone mimicked the look on her face. Dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt she appeared to be in typical college hangout attire.

“Ms. Vicky Kencade?” Mark asked.

“Who wants to know?” she shot back, propping one foot on top of the other, arms hugging her thin body.

“Au-choo.” Lindsey sneezed, covering her mouth in an abrupt action. “Excuse me,” Lindsey said with a sniffle. “Cat allergy,” she explained trying to fight off another sniffle. “We are investigating the murder of Elizabeth Moore. I’m Lindsey Paxton,” she said and waved a hand towards Mark, “and he’s Mark Reeves.”

“I’ve already told the police everything I know.”

Lindsey really wanted to hear what this woman had to say. Telling her they were defense counsel wasn’t likely to help. “Can we just ask a few more questions? We’re attorneys and it’s our job to go to court and help the jury make a good decision.” Lindsey hoped Vicky would assume they were prosecutors.

When the door was suddenly opened to them, she was relieved. Success. She and Mark exchanged a look before Lindsey stepped into the apartment with him at her heels. Quickly scrutinizing her surroundings , Lindsey found it typical college living: small, with homemade wall hangings and posters, as well as second-hand furniture.

Feet planted in the middle of the living room, Vicky faced them. “I’m so glad that freak is in custody. I want him to hang for what he did to Elizabeth. Tell me what I can do to help.”

She motioned towards a plaid, worn couch, and Mark and Lindsey sat down. Vicky dropped to the floor as if to gain a comfortable distance from them. She pressed her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

“Ms. Kencade, did you ever meet Mr. Williams?” Mark asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, the night Elizabeth was killed. He came in for coffee after a tutoring session.”

“You were here when Mr. Williams came by?” Lindsey asked, as she pulled a pad of paper and pen from her briefcase.

“Yes,” she said with a deep sigh. “He seemed nice enough. I would never have guessed what a real bastard he was.” Her voice reeked with bitterness.

“Why did you think he was nice?” Lindsey asked.

“He seemed to really care about Elizabeth. She was hurting over her mother’s death and had these crying spells. Something set her off in the tutoring session. She was upset. He seemed really concerned that she get home safely.”

“Were you here when he left?” Mark questioned.

“Yes, actually I was.”

Lindsey’s expression held surprise. “So you saw him leave, and Elizabeth was unharmed?” Mark put a hand on her shoulder as if in warning. She understood. Vicky might decide they were the enemy, if she wasn’t careful, and then they wouldn’t get anything more from her.

Vicky was frowning. “Well, yeah, but Elizabeth decided to go out after he left that night. I guess he followed her.”

Mark raised a questioning brow. “Out?”

“Yes, to a club called the Pink Panther,” the girl stated.

“Did you two go there often?” Mark asked.

Vicky nodded. “Yeah, it’s the spot we hang at, if you know what I mean.”

“Did you know any of the other victims?” Lindsey asked.

“I knew of one of the other girls. I saw her around a lot. Mandy Gibson. We didn’t hang or anything.”

“Was Ms. Moore seeing anyone?” Mark asked.

“Her and her boyfriend broke up a few months before . . . um,” she paused and looked down at her hands which started to shake, “you know, she died.”

Lindsay’s voice softened. “I’m sorry. I know how difficult reliving all of this can be. We’ll try and hurry.” When Vicky nodded, seeming to pull herself together, she continued, “This guy she was seeing, was the breakup easy, hard . . . ?”

“As good as breakups can go, you know,” she said with a shrug. “He was a nice guy. Elizabeth just wasn’t the same after her mother’s death.”

“What’s his name?” Mark asked.

“Tom, Tom Maloney. He goes to school with us.”

“This Mandy Gibson, you said you saw her around,” Lindsey said. “As in where?”

“School, out,” the girl stated.

Mark frowned. “Out?”

Vicky opened her mouth to answer but Lindsey interrupted, “Ah-choo.” Lindsey covered her mouth and sniffled. “Sorry, again. Go on, you were explaining what ‘out’ means.”

“Parties and stuff.”

“The Pink Panther?” Lindsey asked.

“Yes, actually, I think so. A few times.”

“Do you have an address for this ex-boyfriend?” Mark asked.

Pushing to her feet, Vicky walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a pad. “Yeah, he lives on campus.” She wrote something down, ripped the page off, and walked back towards them. She handed the small piece of paper to Mark. “This is his address.”

Lindsey and Mark exchanged a look, silently agreeing they were through. They both pushed to their feet. “Well, thank you for all of your help,” Mark said offering her his hand. “We may be in touch again.”

Vicky shook Mark’s hand and then Lindsey’s. “I really want him to pay,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself again.

“We know you do,” Lindsey said as they reached the door, and then had another thought. She turned and faced Vicky. “How long had Elizabeth and Tom been dating?”

Vicky gave Lindsey a puzzled look. “Almost a year.”

Lindsey calculated in her head. The dates of the murders, the time frames. Often serial killers had normal lives, including wives or girlfriends. It was an excellent cover.

She wanted to know more about this boyfriend.

 
Lindsey sat down on the floor of Mark’s apartment and rested her back against his couch.

She felt comfortable here, and she couldn’t figure out why. It reminded her of the first time she had met Mark, the way she had felt so drawn to him. Something about him just called to her.

Trying to focus on work, she pulled files out of her briefcase, and plopped them on the coffee table. Glancing at the pile of paperwork, she let out a weary sigh. It had been a long day and exhaustion was making a fast sweep through her body.

She wasn’t sure she was up to doing anymore work tonight.

Besides they had accomplished a lot in a relatively short window of time. Her only regret was they hadn’t managed to track down the ex-boyfriend. They had dropped by his house and even called him several times, to no avail. They had made it through a big portion of the students on the tutoring list. Not that it had offered them much to go on.

So far they were just as much in the dark about what had happened to those girls as they were before.

Lindsey had agreed without hesitation to have dinner at Mark’s place while they reviewed the day’s notes, knowing full well what being alone with him meant. Her morning second thoughts were gone. A day with Mark had made her desire abundantly clear. No way was she going to walk around this thing between them for six months.

She would simply make sure she kept things firmly in her control.

* * * * *

Standing behind the bar, Mark pulled out two wine glasses and then froze, his eyes locked on Lindsey. He was still reeling from her easy acceptance of his dinner invitation. Surely she knew his intentions. The closet kiss was a sure tell-all, and man, what a kiss it was. It took Herculean strength not take her right there in the closet. He had felt her submission like a sweet reward. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

Perched against his couch, she looked completely at ease in his home, a fact that filled him with an odd surge of pleasure. It also made him want to show her how good they could be together. With that thought in mind, he popped the corkscrew from the wine bottle.

Mark stood above her, with glasses in hand, finding himself spellbound by the sight she made. Her long, blond hair streamed over her shoulders, soft and silky. Her eyes, green as grass, seemed lit with a seductive message. He handed her one of the glasses and enjoyed the openness of the smile she offered in return. His voice came with effort, his mind and body so weighted by the things this woman made him feel.

“Italian take-out okay by you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I love Italian.”

“What do you like?” he asked, anxious to get any distraction out of the way.

“Something with chicken. You order for me, will you?”

Mark didn’t say another word. Funny, but the little bit of control she had just given him made him smile. It was only her dinner choice, but somehow he thought it was symbolic of more. She held onto control, especially around men. It was significant that she had given even a little to him. And he wondered if she recognized what she had offered.

He made quick work of ordering the food before joining her on the floor. Lindsey was staring out the window, sipping her wine, ignoring the files on the table.

“Thanks,” she said and tipped her glass at him. “I needed this.” She took another sip before leaning backwards across the couch in a catlike stretch.

The action draped her soft, blond locks across the black leather and Mark couldn’t help but wish it were his chest. Tearing his eyes away from her profile was an impossible task he didn’t even attempt. “Your sneezing seems to have stopped,” he commented softly, barely keeping his hands from reaching for her.

She darted him a quick smile. “Yes, but my eyes are still burning.” She tipped her chin towards the window. “The view here is amazing at night. I had forgotten the appeal of this city.”

Mark turned his head to the view, sharing her love of the Manhattan skyline. It was his solace on many an evening, giving him peace after a tough look into the world of crime. He had taken great pride in moving into his home, and building a successful life. But lately something had been missing, a void in his life. He glanced back at Lindsey, and realized she somehow filled the hole that had been demanding recognition. Why or what that meant, he didn’t know. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready to face it.

There had been plenty of women in his life, but Lindsey somehow seemed different. She needed him, even if she didn’t admit it. But then again, she didn’t depend on him. He found her independence and strength admirable.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I love this view.”

He turned his gaze on her, rubbing his fingers across his jaw, feeling the bristle of one-day-old whiskers. God, she was something. From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d known he was in trouble. She did something to him. He wished he knew what. Then maybe he could control it. But he didn’t, and he couldn’t, and right now it simply didn’t seem to matter. Unable to resist any longer, he moved closer to her, his hand running down the back of her hair and lingering.

He heard her swift intake of breath as she turned to him. Her words surprised him. He’d expected her to shy away, to resist. But she did just the opposite. “Thank you for today,” she whispered, and ever so softly touched his face before dropping her hand.

His eyes narrowed, and his senses reeled. Her response, her touch, shocked him and set him on fire. “For what?”

“I thought meeting Williams, talking about the crimes so like those involving Hudson, would be harder than it was. It’s strange, but just being with you somehow made things easier.” She looked down at her lap as if she wasn’t sure how he was going to respond.

Using his index finger, he tilted her chin up so he could see the expression in her eyes. And so she could see his. He knew what she would see in them. But it was what he saw in hers that took his breath away. Emotions, raw and hot, danced in her gaze, there for his viewing. Now, while she was in this mood, he wanted all he could get from her. “That was a major confession for you, wasn’t it? To admit needing me?”

She nodded, her lips trembling. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw fear in her eyes. He smiled at her, intent on making it go away. “Well,” he said, “guess what?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’m damned honored.”

Her face was blank for a moment before her lush, tempting, sexy-as-hell lips curled into a smile. Her hand moved to his cheek, cupping it. There was something so tender about the action, it pressed him over the edge. With a low growl, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him, their mouths so near their breath intermingled. “I want you more than I remember ever wanting a woman.”

“You do?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Her reply was so soft he barely heard it. “I want you, too.”

He absorbed the words as he would a needed breath of air, taking them in, and allowing them to fuel his desire. His lips brushed hers, once, twice, a third time
,
soft, tender, and passion-driven. She tasted like wine and a special something that was simply, perfectly her. With sensual strokes, their tongues met, languidly caressing each other.

His hands cupped her face as he pulled back to look into her eyes, dipping his head for one more taste. He slid his hands down her neck and started making soft circles with his thumbs. This woman was connected to him in some way beyond Williams, beyond Paxton, and beyond understanding.

For now, he just wanted to experience all that they could be together, here, now, tonight.

* * * * *

Lindsey rested her hands on his chest and allowed her head to slowly roll backwards. Her breasts tingled with his nearness, making her wish he would move his hands. Thinking she could deny herself this amazing man had been crazy. His lips pressed against the sensitive flesh of her neck, making a shiver of desire dance along her skin.

She wanted this, wanted him . . .

He nuzzled her ear, his tongue and teeth both touching the lobe. “I can’t begin to explain what you do to me.”

Lindsey pulled back a bit, wanting to see into those fascinating brown eyes of his. She liked knowing he wanted her. This gorgeous, sexy man wanted
her
. Of course she had seen desire in a man’s eyes before . . . but not the live, heated burn she saw in Mark’s. “Tell me why you want me, Mark?” She looked at him, waiting for his answer. For some reason, she needed to know.

Maybe she wanted him to say something wrong, to push her so she could run. Deep down she knew she was scared of Mark, of his powerful nature, and the way it resembled other men in her life. Yet . . . he was tender, and sensitive, and made her feel respected but still sexy. Was it real or just a good act, this way he treated her?

“I wish I could answer that question,” he told her, and there was so much honesty in his voice and eyes, it made her stomach flip-flop.

She so wished she knew the answer as well. Right now, she wanted Mark, and she wanted him in a way that went beyond words. No more holding back. He’d passed her test. “Mark,” she said, and the one word said so much. It was packed with her desire.

She moved then, rotating so that she straddled him. His hands went to her hips, helping her settle on top of him, feeling the evidence of his arousal. Their eyes locked, and the knowledge of what was to come passed between them and gave her a rush of pure heat. And it empowered her. This take-charge man was now here, under her control, and she liked it.

She bent her head, and let her lips linger above his, feeling the warmth of his breath as it touched her mouth. But she didn’t kiss him. Instead, she trailed her lips along his jaw, and then further to his neck, her nose flaring with his very male, very provocative smell.

Moving her lips near his ear, she whispered, “Why, Mark?” She flicked his earlobe with her tongue before leaning back to see his face. “Why do you want me? I want to know.”

His hands settled on her cheeks, his eyes holding hers. “You want to know why, Lindsey?”

“Yes, tell me.” Her voice had a breathless quality.

His voice was a deep, sensual play on her nerve endings. “It’s way beyond your looks, but I think you know that.”

She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. He simply took her by storm. Her intention had been to take control of this night. Instead, it felt more as if she had given it away. But it wasn’t a bad feeling like it had been in the past. With Mark, it felt . . . different.

“But you know you’re beautiful,” he said as his thumb moved across her bottom lip. “I know you do.”

Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks. She hated being told she was attractive. The corporate world had taught about politics and manipulation, and often looks played a key role. She hated it. “No,” she whispered.

“Look at me,” he said gently. She forced her eyes to meet his. “How can you say no?”

She wasn’t going to explain. “Kiss me,” she said instead.

He seemed as if he might refuse, but then his hands were in her hair, his lips pressed to hers, warm and wonderful, making her forget the past, and the future. Now was all that mattered. Their lips connected first, pressed together as if they were absorbing the very essence of the other. She felt the moment in every inch of her body. Her nipples tightened, and her body seemed to melt.

Then his tongue slid into her mouth, sliding against hers in a slow move meant to savor, not tease. One stroke after the next, they tasted one another, slow and hot. His hands slid beneath her shirt, and along her back. Her hands moved from his shoulders, to his neck, to his chest, pressing against him as their kisses seemed to deepen, their bodies molding together just as their mouths were.

Her need for him intensified, and her hands moved along the fine lines of his muscular body, and settled at his tie. “Take it off,” she whispered against his lips, and then leaned back to make eye contact. “And the shirt.”

He reached for the knot, his stare bold, and fierce with passion. “You too,” he said.

“You first,” she responded, grabbing hold of the moments of control she could. Something told her with Mark, she would have to take them where she could get them. She reached for his buttons, starting with the bottom ones. He pulled his tie from his collar as she said, “I’ll help.”

His hands fell to his sides as he willingly let her take over the task. There was a huge part of her that wanted to grab the shirt and rip the buttons loose. Another wanted to savor each inch of skin as it was exposed. Dark hair ran from his belt to his navel and she ran her finger over it, eager to explore. The action seemed to make him grow impatient, and he finished off the buttons. She shoved the material aside, fingers flattening on his chest, feeling the soft hair that invited her touch.

“Now you,” he said, his hands going to hers. “Now you.” This time there was a challenge, even a dare, in his voice. As if he thought she was afraid to act.

She reached for the bottom of her shirt, and, in one easy move, pulled it over her head, tossing it to the floor. His eyes dropped to her breasts, and without looking she could feel her nipples pucker against the thin ivory lace, responding to his stare as they might his touch. Or perhaps begging for it.

He took both his index fingers and ran them in a barely-there touch along the lace framing her breasts. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze on his fingers, or rather what they touched.