Dangerous Kisses (11 page)

Only one way to find out. Corner him during the day and demand to know how he felt. No more avoidance. No more vagueness.

She raced to her car, then zigged and zagged through traffic as she headed toward Jake’s office.

"I’m here to see Detective Radley," she told the guard in the lobby of the criminal justice building when she arrived.

"Is he expecting you?"

"Not really."

"Your name?" he asked, although she was fairly certain he knew it.

"Sydney Blackburn."

"Just a moment."

He turned his back to her as he dialed Jake’s extension. She crossed her arms and let her gaze drift around the lobby.

The guard turned back to face her. "He won’t be able to see you. He’s tied up."

Well, she couldn’t very well barge into Jake’s office since the doorway required card access. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she exited the building. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Jake’s number. Busy.

Temporarily foiled, she drove back to the paper and spent the rest of the day plugging away at two stories that made her feel like a rookie reporter — one about a holdup at a smoke shop and another on a shots fired incident in the projects north of the river. By the time her workday ended, she was more than ready to leave.

"Want to have dinner with me and Chris tonight?" Becky asked as they walked out together.

"No, thanks. I think I need to just go home and sleep for about twelve hours."

When they reached her car, Becky surprised Sydney by wrapping her in a tight hug. "You need anything, you just call, okay?"

"Thanks, but I’m fine, really."

As she drove home with her patrolman tail in her rearview mirror, however, she found the thought of solitude not as comforting as it’d always been. She’d continued calling Jake’s office throughout the day with the same results. He was either on the phone or out of the office. Well, he had to come home sometime. She might not have full daylight to her advantage, but if she didn’t confront Jake today she was going to drive herself mad wondering.

When she reached the marina and stepped onto Jake’s boat to wait, she didn’t figure it’d take long for her escort to report in to the good detective. But as the minutes ticked by, she began to wonder if Jake aimed to let her sit there alone all night. Did he really want to avoid her enough to not come home? If so, why the heck was she making a fool of herself by waiting for him?

After two hours, she’d had enough. She rose to her feet, fully aiming to go home and soak in a steamy hot tub. But then a pair of headlights entered the parking lot. When the driver extinguished them, she recognized the car.

She’d rehearsed her speech a thousand times, but it took a dive overboard, leaving her with her pulse vibrating a heavy staccato and her palms sweaty despite the cool night air. As she watched him walk slowly toward the boat, her mouth went dry and her skin tingled. She was in over her head.

"You’re persistent," he said when he reached the boat.

"And you’re hard to track down."

"Here I am."

Yes, he was, every wonderful, delectable inch of him. Oh, heavens.

Sydney took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. Until she knew where she stood, she didn’t want Jake to know he held that kind of power over her, the ability to make her mouth water and her muscles tighten with expectation.

She retreated toward familiar territory, although she questioned him in a more combative tone than she intended. "What gave you the right to go behind my back and talk to my editor?"

Jake’s shoulders rose and fell as he sighed. Without responding, he took the last few steps into the boat and moved down into the cabin. She followed, frustration mounting.

"You didn’t answer my question."

"I don’t see where it’s a problem. Every bit of protection helps." He pulled a Mountain Dew from the refrigerator.

"Bill pulled me from the story. You knew it meant a lot to me."

His gaze connected with hers, tired but stunning. And surprised. "I didn’t make your editor remove you. I just told him the facts. Although you might be safer working on another story." He moved a couple of steps closer to her without breaking eye contact. "Don’t you realize how much danger you’re in, after everything that’s happened?"

"I’m not stupid. I could have continued working on the story without putting myself in any more danger. I mean, you guys are watching me like a hawk. If I back down and quit doing my job, that makes me a victim. He’s won."

"No. You’ll be a victim if you end up raped and murdered, your body dumped in the woods."

The image sent a shudder through Sydney. She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She didn’t want to die, but how long would she have to put her life on hold, wondering if her every move was being watched by someone whose mind had twisted into something grotesque? Tears threatened but she blinked them into submission. She almost lost the battle against them when Jake cupped her cheek with his strong hand.

"We’ll get him," he said.

"What am I supposed to do until then? You don’t know what this story meant to me."

He dropped his hand and moved away. "It’s just a story, just a job."

"Like protecting people is just a job?" She heard the hurt lacing her question but was at the point of not caring.

"That’s different."

"Why?"

"Because we save lives."

"And all journalists do is get in your way, right? We’re just a bunch of nosy good-for-nothings whose whole purpose in life is to be the bane of your existence."

"I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to." She turned and stalked toward the stairs. She had her answer without even asking the question. If he detested what she did for a living, how could he ever feel any fondness for her as a person?

She was near the top of the stairs before his hand wrapped around her arm, halting her retreat. "Wait." His voice came softer and more pleading than she’d expected.

"Why should I?"

From his spot two steps below her, he stared into her eyes. The depths of his seemed to harbor a storm, a fierce battle between forces she could not name.

"Because I don’t think you’re those awful things."

"You don’t like reporters, Jake. I could tell that the first day we met."

"I have reasons."

"What reasons?"

He released her and closed his eyes for a moment. "It’s not important."

"It is to me."

"Why?"

She took a deep breath and tried to control the jitters, making it difficult to stand still this close to him. "I care what you think."

One of the forces warring within his gaze won over the other. He moved closer to her and framed her face with his hands. His mouth descended toward hers, her heart drummed against her ribs, and her hands slid up his chest. She lost herself in his kiss — so warm, so intoxicating, so surprisingly gentle.

Even though she didn’t want to, she pushed away. "No. Quit trying to avoid answering me."

Almost as surprising as the power of the kiss was the sudden move he made past her to the deck of the boat. Damn it, he was impossible to figure out. Did he want her or not?

By the time she recovered enough to follow him, he was releasing the boat from the dock.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought we’d go for a ride."

She glanced toward the parking lot where the Metro officer sat watching them slowly drift away from the marina. Though Jake had made the decision without consulting her, for once she didn’t object. Maybe if they spent more time alone, she could figure out a few more things about this man who sheltered his thoughts and feelings. What was the reason behind his dislike of reporters? Did he feel anything for her other than physical attraction?Give it time, give him time, she told herself as they drifted farther and farther into the open water. Maybe if she didn’t push, he’d finally open up.

They remained silent until Jake anchored off one of the bigger islands in the middle of the lake. She glanced over at him, wondering about his plans.

"Thought we’d roast a few hot dogs," he said. "Don’t know about you, but I’m hungry."

She helped him stuff the hot dogs, buns, ketchup, chips and Mountain Dews into a plastic grocery bag, then followed him to the edge of the boat. When he descended into the gently lapping waves, he reached up for her.

"I can get down," she said, afraid she’d topple him into the lake.

"I’m a strong guy, Sydney. I won’t drop you."

So she climbed over the side of the craft and dropped into his arms. He’d told the truth. His strong arms wrapped around her as he carried her toward dry sand. Her feet didn’t even get damp.

"Your feet are going to freeze," she said.

"They’ll dry by the fire."

Within a few minutes, he’d gathered downed limbs and driftwood and started a roaring fire. As he sharpened the end of two more limbs to roast their hot dogs, she watched him, enchanted by the alluring picture he made in the orange glow of the fire. She let the world beyond the firelight fade away. There would be plenty of time for worrying later.

"Have you done this before?" she asked.

"Roasted hot dogs?"

"Come out to this island."

"A few times, when I want to get away from the noise of the marina. Some people equate having a boat with getting stupid-faced drunk and partying all night."

"You could always arrest them."

He chuckled. "That’s a great way to make friends with your neighbors. Plus, they haven’t pushed anyone overboard yet."

She scooted closer to the fire as the night chill at her back deepened. "This is probably a good place to camp."

"Do you like to camp?"

"I used to. We’d go every summer when I was little, before Mom died. There wasn’t much time after that. Dad worked a lot."

"To make up for your mother’s income?"

"Partially, but I think he worked to try to forget. I think he feared stopping long enough to feel."

The words made her realize she’d been doing the same thing all her life, going ninety miles an hour so no one could catch her and hurt her.

Maybe it was time to slow down, no matter how much it scared her.

They remained silent as they roasted, then ate their hot dogs.

She wiped ketchup from the edge of her mouth. "Mmm, I’d forgotten how good hot dogs over a fire could be."

Jake smiled at her, chuckled a bit, stealing her breath. If he smiled like that all the time, he’d have been grabbed and married long ago.

"You should smile more often, Detective Radley. It makes you look human."

"Thanks, I think."

They both stared into the fire as it popped and sent sparks sailing toward the sky. For the first time in she couldn’t remember how long, a kind of peace settled over her.

"I didn’t talk to your boss to get you kicked off your story." Jake’s sudden comment brought a bit of the outside world back into their midst and dashed the peaceful mood. He hesitated for a moment, as if he dreaded saying anything more, wished he hadn’t brought up the topic. "I had a message when I got back to the office. From him."

She didn’t need to ask who "him" was, and it wasn’t Bill. A lump rose in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Her stomach threatened to reject the meal she’d so enjoyed.

"What...what did he say?"

"He was there, Sydney. He was somewhere nearby while we were looking for him."

She inhaled sharply. How did this maniac keep getting close enough to watch her? Her skin crawled, and a cold chill raced down her spine. She glanced out into the inky darkness beyond the light of the fire. Could he somehow be out there, in a boat of his own, watching her even now? The possibility made her nauseated and furious all at once.

She stood and walked to the water’s edge. Even the gentle lapping did nothing to soothe her. "Have you checked out all my neighbors? I’ve never been uncomfortable around any of them, but no one suspected Ted Bundy either."

"We talked to them once, but we’re going back through again."

She shuddered at the thought of one of her neighbors being a cold-blooded killer. "What if we set a trap?"

"What do you mean?" He asked it slowly, suspicion ripe.

"I go somewhere alone, out of the way, only I’m not. You all are set up ahead of me."

"No. It’s too dangerous. Too many things could go wrong."

There was no use arguing with him. And the truth was the scared-to-death part of her was glad he’d nixed the idea. Still, she’d do it if it meant an end to the strain of constantly being guarded and flinching at every noise. If it would stop this predator from killing innocent young women.

"I’m so tired of this. I just want it to be over."

Jake came to stand behind her. He stroked her hair, trying to soothe her.

"Why did he call you?" she asked as she continued staring into the unknown.

"Maybe he gets a thrill out of eluding the cops and wants to rub my face in it."

"You’re not telling me everything, are you?"

For a few moments, he said nothing, then "Oh, hell." He paused, then sighed. "Seems he doesn’t like the personal aspect of our relationship. He said something about guys like me and girls like you."

Sydney turned to face Jake. "What did he mean by that?"

"He’s fixated on you. I think it’s partly because you fit the physical description he’s looking for, but you’ve been elusive and protected, so now he’s angry in addition to being attracted." His eyes stared at her, dark and serious. "That’s why we are taking all the extra precautions. I’m afraid if he caught you, it’d be worse than the others. He might take his anger out on you even more than he did with Stephanie and Maggie."

Cold slices of fear scraped down her back like claws. When she shuddered, Jake pulled her to him and rubbed up and down her spine as if to chase away those chills.

"What makes people like this?" she whispered, her throat thick with fatigue and disturbing thoughts of torture and death.

"Something’s not right in their heads. It can’t be."

They stood together for several long, silent seconds before she spoke again. "I feel like he’s out there now, watching me."

Jake kissed her forehead. "He won’t get to you. I swear it."

"Your father would be proud of you." When Jake’s back stiffened, she moved away enough to look into his face. "I’m sorry if talking about him hurts you, but I wanted you to know that I think you’re a good police officer."

He glanced away, stared into the night. "That means a lot to me," he said, then looked back at her. "And surprises me considering you were pretty ticked at me when I got home tonight."

"My friend Becky says I’m too hard on you, but she doesn’t know what it’s like for me. No one does."

"What?"

She slipped out of his embrace and walked toward the fire, rubbing her arms for warmth. The chill came not from the night air but the past. "I can’t stand being powerless. It doesn’t matter if it’s a minor or major aspect of my life, I have to be in control. The morning I found out my mother died, I changed. For a long time, I was afraid of the dark. I couldn’t go to sleep unless my father was sitting beside me, and I had nightmares every night." She shook her head, remembering those horrible months. "The poor man. For a year or more, he never got a full night’s sleep. I’d wake up screaming for Mom, and Dad would hold me until I cried myself back to sleep."

Jake stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and soaked in the power and tenderness those arms possessed, allowing herself to want to relive the comfort every day.

"As I got older, I eventually slept through the night but I was determined to never be vulnerable. I’m the world’s worst passenger in a car. I hated group projects in school. I’m a card-carrying control freak." She tried to laugh, but it came out more a shaky whimper. She bit down on her quivering lower lip. "Because my mother had no control over how she died."

"None of us do."

"No, but we’re able to make decisions about how we live. My mother didn’t have that chance."

Tears overflowed and trailed down her cheeks. Jake turned her in his arms and wiped away her tears.

"That’s why Bill made me so angry today. More and more control has been taken out of my hands since that chocolate showed up on my desk. This story, one I’m a part of, was just the last straw. I know everyone is just trying to protect me, but I felt like my life was spinning out of control when the last thing I was in charge of was taken away. Can you understand that?"

"Yes, but you’ll never be able to control everything. You don’t have to control this. I’m here with you."

She ran a hand over his face, one she could get used to seeing when she woke up in the morning and went to sleep at night. That hint of dependence should have scared her, but it didn’t. Instead, it intrigued her, tempted her, and when his lips took hers, she kissed him back, this time in a kiss a bit more demanding than the others. Deeper, longer, hotter.

Without a word, he led her back toward the boat. Her heart beat in her ears, buzzing like hummingbird wings as he led her down the steps into the cabin. When they reached the side of the bed, however, Jake froze.

"What’s wrong?" He tried to retreat, but she gripped his hand more firmly. "Oh, no you don’t," she said. "This baring of souls is a two-way street, mister. Tell me what’s wrong. I won’t go berserk if you tell me you’re not interested, although it’s strange to go around kissing people you’re not interested in."