Intimate Danger (Empire Blue) (10 page)

He groaned and his lips brushed her cheek.
She turned her face slightly toward his mouth, but he stopped her. “No, I can’t. I’ll see you at the station in a few hours, though.”

H
is warmth disappeared. Charlie blinked and he was gone.

What in the hell had just happened?

Chapter Eight

Charlie drummed her fingers on the desk, her chest burning with building irritation as she watched Trent. She was disgusted with herself for several reasons, one being her body’s extreme reaction to him. He stood in front of the room debriefing their bosses on the different cases, and how they were all linked, through his profile of the perp. But instead of paying attention to anything he was saying, all she could do was stare at his ass. His perfect bubbled, could-practically-bounce-a-coin-off-it ass.

Ugh.

To keep from banging her head on the desk in an attempt to get those damn thoughts out of her mind, Charlie tapped a foot in rapid staccato against the linoleum floor. Memories of this morning flooded in, and she licked her lips in remembrance, swearing his taste was still there. The kiss had been unlike any other she had experienced and one that got all of the right body parts answering. The man definitely knew how to kiss. Seeing as his mouth had only been on her mouth, she couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel on other parts of her body.

Shiver.

His body had been hard under her hands, full of what she sensed was a leashed restraint. Even now, with him standing in front of the room wearing a light blue button-down shirt, charcoal pants highlighting the distinct curve of his rear, he emitted a silent kind of tension barely contained. He looked like the poster child for the FBI and very much like her living fantasy.

“Charlie?”

She bit her lip and imagined stripping not only his clothes away but also uncovering the man beneath the flirting facade. His waist was narrow and flat beneath that shirt. His badge sat on a black belt, his gun sat right beside it. Would he take her with it still on?

Quiver.

“Detective Lopez!” A heavy hand slapped the conference table and she jumped, her gaze snapping over to Chief Woolsey.

“What?”
she snapped, not entirely happy with being interrupted from that very fine of a fantasy.

“You want to work at some point today, or do I need to cut out your daily dose of caffeine?”

She frowned, confused. “What?”

The
chief gave a pointed look at her hand and leg, which was giving a Samba song a run for its money. She forced her body still and turned toward Trent as he cleared his throat, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Ugh squared.

“Charlie, you’re up,” he said, his voice and eyes dancing with unhidden laughter.

She nodded and slipped from the chair
. Unease skittered along her neck as attention in the room landed on her. She hated these briefings, would rather be out in the field doing what she did best. Facing the three pairs of eyes centered on her, she blew out a breath and tried not to fidget.

“Al
l right, we believe we’ve discovered what his MO is. While he fits the profile of a sexual assault offender, not everything seems to be adding up. It’s unnerving how many different attributes he possesses.”

The
chief spoke. “How do you mean?”

Snapping her mouth shut at the interruption, she cursed the trickle of sweat rolling down her back. She glanced at Trent and continued when he nodded. “Well, sexual assault scenes hold different traits depending on the offender. That includes the victim’s blood, possible semen left behind, wound patterns on the victim, torn clothing, or ligature marks from what the subject may have used to bind.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve all been through profiling one-oh-one in the Academy. Get to the point.” The chief sat forward in silent question.

She shifted
, again, hating how uncomfortable she was. “While our victims have reported sexual contact to a degree, and our offender seems to be acting in a sexual way, he hasn’t passed the final line.”

Agent Echols piped up. “
What does
that
mean?”

She shifted her gaze to the ASAIC
and tried to control her face at being interrupted continuously. “At this point our offender fits more of the traits for a breaking and entering offender, rather than a sexual one. But his crimes seem to be progressing as is evident in the recent days.”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” Woolsey lifted a hand. “You mean to tell me that even though this
guy
,” he spat the word, “has been breaking into homes, stealing underwear, and forcing women to take sexual demeaning photographs, you aren’t classifying him as a sexual deviant?”

“Exactly.” Trent’s one word sent the room into silence
. He stood and joined her at the front of the table again. She could have kissed him.

Wait, she already
did
. Hell…

“Technically
,” Trent’s deep voice drew her mind back to the briefing, while he holds those sexual tendencies, he can’t be classified as one until he crosses that line. At the moment, he’s pegged as a B&E subject with a signature in sexual behavior. That behavior shows to be unsatisfying to his psychological and emotional needs. If history serves to repeat itself, we’ll see it only get worse.”

“His what?” Woolsey glanced between Charlie and Trent as if they had sprouted two heads.
With her emotions jumping all over the place, she expected if she looked in a mirror, she’d see just that. The case drew her one way, and Trent’s dark and sexy pull yanked her in another.

“His needs. With the progression of his crimes, it seems as though he doesn’t get satisfied and keeps escalating with each attack.” Trent check
ed an imaginary list from his long fingers. How the hell she found his hands sexy was beyond her. “So far we’ve seen the subject steal female undergarments, which technically is a B&E trait. Also falling under that crime includes ejaculation at the scene. But his attacks are progressing, showing the specific sequences of sexual acts, including binding his victims and personal items taken.” He turned to the supervisors. “Those last three fall under a sexual deviant trait.”

Woolsey frowned, bewilderment crossing his face. Agent Echols sat back with an audible sigh,
and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What he means, Chief,”
Charlie concluded, “is our offender is progressing to rape. It’s not a matter of what he’s going to do, but more so who…and when.”

****

He lay beneath the bed in darkness. Anticipation curled through his veins, wrapping tentacles of adrenaline around his pounding heart. His body ached for release, burned for the moment of pleasure.

The creak of a door drew his attention. Across the room, sleek, muscular legs stumbled in, followed by a man’s shoes.

Shit.

He clenched his jaw as sounds of sucking lips and murmurs of carnality filled the air. His teeth ground together. The need he held turned to anger. He had planned this out, studied the house for days and waited for his moment.
Wanted to be under the bed, so when she finally fell into it—preferably by herself—he’d be able to slide out from beneath and surprise her. She lived alone, had a schedule, one she had not deviated from since he laid eyes on her.

Until now.

Fucking shit.

A click and soft light flooded the room. The couple’s bodies shadowed a wall, and he watched as the man hunched over the
woman, his lips pressing along the length of her neck. Her hands fumbled with his shirt until twin pieces fell away as cloth skittered to the floor. The sound of a zipper followed and a red dress landed at her feet.

It all happened inches away. He could almost reach out and touch them, burned with the desire to do so. His cock pulsed against the carpeted floor, and he bit
back a moan, shifted his hips, and ground himself into the lush flooring.

The bed bounced and groaned as the couple collapsed on it. Her soft laugh littered the air before a sultry cry rushed up
. Small sounds like sucking, panting, and creaking continued in a primal song.

He inched forward, a cat on the hunt, slithered his way like a snake until he pulled his body free from the confines of the bed. He rolled to his back and wrinkled his nose in disgust as a pair of black slacks fell from the edge, landing inches from his face.

He drew out the heavy mag light, tested the weight in his palm before shifting and pushing to his knees. His muscles screamed in protest from being immobile for so long. He moved with precise, slow progress, stayed crouched below the rise of the bed, and peeked over.

The couple
went at it, so focused on each other they had no idea he was nearby. Their bodies lay in a mass of tangled limbs and exposed skin. The white covers crumpled against their skin, and the pillows at the top of the bed were scattered around.

He crawled to the side and reached their joined legs. Naked hips gr
ound against another. He rose, lifted his hand and smacked the heavy tool to the back of the man’s head. He slumped right away, and his weight rested on her small frame beneath.

He rolled the intruder off. She lifted her blue eyes to his and screamed, the
sound raising goose bumps across his arms. His excitement ramped up. The thrill of the chase, the possibility of being caught, soared.

The woman twisted and scrambled across the bed, climbing over her lover as if he were a decorative pillow.
Their limbs tangled, making her movements much more of a burden to her. She struggled and he wrapped his hand around her ankle, gave a yank, and drew her naked form back. Her legs fell over the bed, bringing her hips right to his cock, her ass displayed in the finest position. She rolled, kicked away from him and struck him with something she had pulled from the bedside table.

Pain whipped across his head as the lamp smashed to the wall. Warmth slid down his face and his eye throbbed in answer. He reached for her.

“No, please!”

His
body answered with a jolt of desire, and he grinned.

****

Finished taking the victim’s statement, Charlie stepped out of the house with a heavy sigh. Blue and red lights filled the surrounding area, making the sky alive like Fourth of July fireworks. A dozen or so officers scattered across the lawn, searching and digging for any kind of trace evidence. If this was anything like the previous cases, the likelihood of them finding anything was nil.

After the briefing
earlier, she’d hightailed it out of the station, ignoring Woolsey’s and Trent’s questioning looks, and gone home. Despite exhaustion weighing her limbs down, she needed to burn off restless energy. More so, the sexual tension driving through her veins. She changed into her jogging pants and a light blue jacket and then hit the pavement. After three miles her body started to scream, her muscles turned to jelly, but she pushed herself harder, faster, giving it her all until well after sunset.

Dwayne had been waiting, dressed impeccably as ever, his shift starting and dinner waiting. She had shoveled food into her mouth so fast, more to ignore any of her partner’s questioning looks, then escaped to the solitude of her room, ignoring her phone, her laptop, and instead slipping into the bath with a heavy sigh.
Hours later, still asleep in water that had gone cold, she’d woken to Dwayne pounding on the door. That had been at midnight, and the department had been trying to get ahold of her for hours.

She sighed and brought herself back to the present.
Dwayne broke off from speaking with a neighbor and crossed the lawn in sure, long strides toward her. A familiar shift in tension uncoiled with his presence. He had been her confidante for years, one of her closest friends, and right now she required all the help she could get. She needed to be able to trust someone. Trust someone with more than just what was going on in the town.

“What’s the story, Charlie?”

His dark looks complimented the night, mocha-colored skin and green eyes making him almost too pretty to be a man. He carried himself with a confidence many said bordered the line with cockiness. However, she knew he had the intelligence to back it up. Dark stubble played over a strong jaw and high cheekbones were etched like Adonis.

“Our boy is getting risqué. Tonight he attacked with the date there.”

His brows rose and he glanced up at the house behind. “So I heard. Not a good sign if you ask me.”

“Conked the guy on the head with something heavy
, then tied them both up. Besides his ego and a bump, the date’s okay. But I’m echoing your thoughts, this is getting out of control.”

“And the woman?”

She grimaced and stepped aside to allow a medic to pass. “Well, she’s a bit worse for wear. Matches pretty much to the last attack. After he tied them up, he dressed her, took pictures and had a bit of fun with her drawer of toys while her date watched.”

“Penetration?” he asked.

She let out a breath. “No. Thank God. But just as humiliating. Forcing someone to give blow jobs to inanimate objects can be just as traumatizing.”

He nodded. “True that. But, d
rawer of toys?”

She cast a bland look at Dwayne. “Surely with all the females you’ve dated, you know about the drawer?”

Dwayne stayed silent, but his lips twitched.

She glared. “Christ. Dildos, vibrators.”