Borderline (3 page)

When he turned sixteen, he ran away from his foster home and lived on the streets until José Guzman took him in. The elderly Hispanic man owned a grocery store, and for the first time since the Levistons, Mac understood what family meant. José had adopted him and helped him make something of himself.

Mac had joined the California State Police fresh out of the academy. After José decided to return to Texas, Mac applied and was accepted by the Texas Rangers. It was only by a twist of fate he’d run into Marissa at a downtown bar and they’d renewed their friendship.

Now that was over, and he had to find a way to break it to her parents. He should be chasing down leads and trying to identify Marissa’s killer, but for tonight he was going to take the time to remember her the way she had been and not how that bastard had left her.

As he took another sip of scotch, his doorbell rang. He frowned while making his unsteady way to the door. He’d been drinking since he got home. Of course he’d be no good to anyone if they got another murder.

“Who is it?”

“Tanner Wallace.” The voice drifted through the barrier between them.

Fuck. What was the agent doing there? Mac had figured he wouldn’t see the guy until the morning. Him showing up when Mac was half-drunk wasn’t a good sign. It definitely wouldn’t inspire confidence in his professionalism. He rested his forehead against the wall and sighed.

“Are you okay?”

How did Tanner know Mac wasn’t handling this latest murder well? Hell, for all Tanner knew, this was how Mac reacted to all his cases. He could be an alcoholic, just marking his days until he could retire. Though the idea didn’t make any sense, since at thirty-one, Mac had another ten or fifteen years before he called it quits.

He unlocked the door and strolled back to his spot by the window, stopping to refill his glass on the way. Footsteps informed him Tanner had come into the living room.

“Who was she?”

Tanner’s soft question surprised Mac, and he whirled, sloshing the liquor over his hand.

“Who was who?” He tried to sound confused.

“This last victim. You know her.” Tanner shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it over the back of the couch.

Mac devoured the man with his gaze, trying not to drool at the lust-inducing sight Tanner made. The agent wore faded jeans, worn thin in spots, that fit him like a glove. A long-sleeved dark blue Henley graced Tanner’s upper half, showing off a well-muscled chest and a flat stomach.

“No one,” Mac muttered, keeping up his facade.

Tanner walked up to him and cradled his face. Shock held Mac still. No one touched him without his permission. Yet he had no inclination to yell at Tanner or back away from him.

“I promise to keep your secret, Mac, because God knows, I have my own. It might make you feel better to tell someone about her.” Tanner glanced at the glass in Mac’s hand. “Instead of drinking your problems into oblivion.”

If he were the kind of man who didn’t take responsibility for his actions, he’d blame what he did next on the alcohol. Mac set his glass down on the coffee table and rested his hands on Tanner’s hips. He leaned forward and brought their lips together.

Tanner gasped, and Mac took advantage, sweeping his tongue inside Tanner’s mouth, tasting the flavors. Spicy, like Tanner had had Tex-Mex and a beer for dinner. There was a unique flavor that had to be all Tanner. They moaned and stepped closer until their bodies pressed tightly together, chest to chest, knee to knee, and groin to groin.

In the back of his alcohol-addled mind, Mac knew what they were doing wasn’t smart, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He tugged on the hem of Tanner’s shirt, lifting it so he could run his hands over Tanner’s warm, smooth skin. Tonight he wanted to fuck and reinforce the fact that he still lived. It was the emotion that often swept over him when catching a murder case. If it had been a different victim, he probably would have gone out to one of the bars and picked a guy up. Not the safest thing to do, but he didn’t care. He just wanted a body under him and around him.

Tanner eased back, breaking the kiss. “Where’s your bedroom?”

Mac grabbed the man’s hand and dragged him down the hallway. He didn’t speak, not wanting to break the mood. No coming to their senses until after they fucked. They could regret it in the aftermath.

 “You’re such a playboy.”
Marissa’s voice danced through his head, and Mac skidded to a halt without warning. Tanner slammed into his back with a grunt.

“What’s wrong?” Tanner tightened his grip on Mac’s hand.

“We can’t do this.” Mac turned to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

Tanner laughed softly. “It might give me blue balls, but I think I can deal with it. You’re trying to reaffirm that you’re alive. Happens to those of us around death all the time. Are you the type to go to the bars and pick up a one-night stand?”

Mac dipped his head in embarrassment. Maybe his age was catching up to him, or maybe after reconnecting with Marissa, he’d found he wanted more than quick, anonymous sex.

He closed his eyes against the tears. Marissa, so beautiful and alive the last time he’d seen her. Teasing him about his revolving bedroom door. No more laughter. No more late-night phone calls to talk about her day. Mac bit his lip to keep from sobbing. The alcohol hadn’t been a good idea. His control was slipping, and he didn’t want Tanner to see him weak and emotional.

“Why didn’t you do that tonight?” Tanner led him back down the hall to the living room and pushed him onto the couch.

He laid his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “Because I couldn’t face all those people and the fact that they’re still fucking alive, and those five women are dead.”

“Okay.” Tanner didn’t join him on the couch. The agent sat in the chair opposite Mac. “But you’ve done it before with other homicides. Why not this one? What makes this one different?”

No way was he going to spill his guts to Tanner. It didn’t matter that not five minutes ago he’d been ready to fuck Tanner’s brains out. He didn’t know Tanner and didn’t trust him not to tell Billingsley that Mac knew one of the victims.

“Just tired is all. It’s been a long four months, always anticipating another murder. Never knowing when it’ll happen. Not being able to tell women to be safe because we don’t know anything about the killer except that he likes knives.” Mac clenched his hands to get them to stop trembling.

Silence built in the room until he couldn’t take it anymore. Lifting his head, he peeked through his eyelashes to find Tanner staring at him. The agent had pressed his fingertips together and rested them on his chin, just like a psychologist Mac had gone to see once had done. Christ, Tanner was psychoanalyzing him now.

Mac heard the rustle of fabric and knew Tanner was getting comfortable. Shit, now they were having a heart-to-heart. Sliding, he ended up on his side, meeting Tanner’s amused gaze.

“Is it time for me to go?”

“I don’t care. I’ll probably fall asleep right here, but if you want to chat until I do, I’m game. Since my adopted father’s funeral, I’ve fucked every willing man I could find. Had to make up for lost time, I guess.” He rubbed his cheek against the smooth suede of the couch. “Not proud of it, but not going to lie about it either.”

Tanner’s smile was gentle and understanding in a way. “I get that.”

The agent seemed about to say something else when his phone rang. Mac watched as Tanner tugged it out of his pocket and checked the number.

“I have to go.”

Disappointment swept through Mac. He gave himself a mental slap. First he complained about having a late-night chat with the man. Now he was pissed because Tanner had to go.

“Got a boyfriend checking up on you?”

Tanner paused in the process of tucking in his shirt. He shot Mac an irritated glance. “Do you really think I’d kiss you if I had a boyfriend?”

Mac lifted his shoulder a little. “Probably not. You don’t seem like the cheating kind.”

“Not even remotely.” Tanner crouched next to the couch and brushed his hand over Mac’s hair. “Try not to fall asleep on the couch. It doesn’t look that comfortable. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mac closed his eyes and accepted the kiss Tanner placed on his brow. He waited until the door shut behind Tanner before getting off the couch and staggering over to lock the door. After making sure the cap was back on the scotch, Mac made his way to the bathroom, where he took a hot shower.

He dried off and hung up the towel. Wandering back to his bedroom, he thought about how the night could have ended differently. Instead of sleeping alone, he could have wrapped around Tanner, and maybe then the nightmares wouldn’t haunt him.

Mac slipped under the blankets and curled up with one of his pillows. Not the same as a hot, hard body, but he’d learned to deal with the loneliness. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to relax enough to fall to sleep, though he knew he wouldn’t get a full night of rest…

* * * *

“Mac, why didn’t you save me?”

Marissa’s sparkling eyes slowly went blank and dark as blood cascaded down over her skin, bathing her in dark ruby liquid. He knelt beside her, trying to stop the flood of her life out onto the floor.

“I’m sorry, Marissa. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he’d come after you.”

He watched in horror as her flesh disintegrated, leaving a leering skeleton. His stomach turned as maggots and worms crawled from her mouth. A ringing noise entered the room he crouched in, and he glanced around…

* * * *

The nightmare faded away as he swam toward consciousness. The guilt he felt at Marissa’s accusing stare lingered, even as he sat up in his bed and reached for the phone next to it.

“Guzman.”

“Get in here. We identified the last vic.” Sorensterm sounded chipper, and Mac hated him for that.

“When?” Mac dragged his ass out of bed and stumbled to his dresser, where he found a pair of clean briefs and socks.

“About five minutes ago. Her fingerprints were on file because she worked in the county clerk’s office for year or two.”

That was the job Marissa had held before she started working at one of the nightclubs. She wanted something with more excitement than filing permits all day. Mac had teased her about being a gypsy, never settling down. She’d laughed and told him she had the rest of her life to settle, but while she was young, she wanted to live. He swiped the tears from his eyes.

“Good. Send me the information on the parents. I’ll go give them the news.”

“Sure you don’t want me or your FBI guy to go with you?”

Mac shook his head before realizing Sorensterm couldn’t see him. “Nah. No point in ruining everyone’s day. I hate informing the family, but it needs to be done.”

“Better you than me, Mac. I can’t take the crying.” Clicking sounded. “I’m e-mailing you the address and name right now. I’ll tell Cap where you are.”

“Let him know I’ll be back in as soon as I’m done.”

“Will do.” Sorensterm hung up.

Mac snapped his phone shut and resisted the urge to chuck it against the wall. He dropped to sit on the edge of the bed, dangling his socks and underwear between his legs as he stared at the floor.
Christ
! It just wasn’t fair that Marissa’s life had been cut short. She was a good person and definitely hadn’t deserved to die like that.

He took a shower and got dressed, taking special care to look nice. He even wore a suit because Marissa’s parents had been good to him while he stayed with them and he needed to show them some respect. As he drove to the address Sorensterm had sent him, he kept his mind blank. He never rehearsed what he was going to say to the families. Each circumstance was different because each family reacted differently to death. Of course he’d never had to tell someone he knew that his or her daughter was dead.

Mac parked his car in the driveway and sat, staring at the modest ranch-style home. It had been sixteen years since he’d seen the Levistons. He and Marissa might have reconnected, but he hadn’t been ready to see her parents. Not that he was ready now.

“What a shitty way to come back into each other’s life,” he muttered.

Straightening his shoulders, he turned off the car and climbed out. He settled his suit coat over his gun. Before he took a step, his phone rang. Relief coursed through him at putting the conversation off even for a minute.

“Guzman.”

“Mac, it’s Tanner Wallace. I wondered if you would be able to meet with me. I’d like to go over some things about the case.”

His first reaction was to scream “fuck no,” but it was his emotions saying that, not his professionalism. A deep mental sigh calmed him, as did the promise of a bottle of tequila when he finally made it home.

“Sure. Where do you want to meet?”

“Why don’t you come to my place for dinner? That way we’ll both get food, and I can have a beer.”

Not a good idea
. Mac’s rational brain shouted, but his cock thought being someplace private with Tanner sounded great.

“Sure.”

He’d always been a glutton for punishment.

“Great. Anything you don’t like or are allergic to?”

Mac snorted softly. Growing up a foster kid, he’d learned to never complain about what he ate. That way often led to not getting food at all.

“I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

Tanner’s chuckle socked Mac low in the gut.

“My kind of man,” Tanner joked.

I wish
. Again, so not appropriate, but Mac needed something to take his mind off the grim task before him. The front door of the Leviston’s house opened, and Mac swore.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to notify the latest victim’s family,” he explained, “and I’m standing in their driveway now.”

“That’s sucks, man, especially since you know her and everything.”

He gritted his teeth for a second before saying, “What makes you think I know them?”

“I saw how you reacted at the crime scene and afterward at your apartment. I’m making an educated guess.”

“Mind your own damn business, Wallace,” Mac snarled as he snapped his phone shut on the man. “Shit. Great way to make Tanner drop the subject, asshole.” He shook his head.