Officer on Duty (Lock and Key Book 4) (21 page)

He could’ve come just looking at her up there, riding him with her nipples still hard from being in his mouth.

When the time came, he’d just have to strike a balance. For now, he pressed his thumb to her clit and rubbed gently.

She shuddered and sucked in an audible breath, looking down at where he touched her.

“This make it easier for you to come?”

“Yes.”

He kept rubbing, and every now and then she’d rock her hips, thrusting down on him until their bodies were locked so tightly together they were practically one.

When she came, her breath hitched and her body tightened. Her pussy pulsed around his shaft, and that was his favorite part: the way she pushed him to the edge too, trying to milk him.

He let it happen, let himself fall into raw pleasure. He couldn’t help thrusting harder than before, but he wasn’t rough.

Even though he was holding back, the pleasure knocked the air right out of his lungs. For a few moments, he couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe.

“Fuck, Lucia. Your pussy is amazing.”

It clenched around him one last time, and she sighed.

“I could say the same thing about your cock. About all of you.”

Color burnt high on her cheeks, and there was still a gleam in her eye, but her shoulders sloped in a way that said she was tired.

He placed his hands on her hips and helped her off his dick, off of him.

She curled up on one side, and he moved a pillow closer to her head before pulling the condom off and throwing it away.

When he turned back around, he half expected her to be asleep.

She was moving – wriggling higher on the bed and peeling back the blankets.

“You should get some rest,” he said. “Anything I can do for you before you go to bed?”

“No.” She went to wash her face and brush her teeth.

Meanwhile, he pulled his underwear back on, then went to splash a little water on his own face. When he looked in the mirror, there were dark circles under his eyes – testaments to the time he’d spent lying awake thinking about her, lately.

Well, now he’d traded that in for lying awake to protect her. The thought flooded him with a prickly sort of heat that made his spine tingle with pleasure and wariness.

He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. And he’d be there for her if her concussion took a turn for the worse and she needed help.

When he returned to her room, she was already in bed and had turned down the covers on the opposite side, as if to invite him in.

He didn’t second guess the invitation, nor did he say a word as he closed and locked the bedroom door, shut off the light and climbed into bed beside her.

She sidled up against him right away, and he wrapped an arm around her, his heart beating extra hard in the darkness.

It’d been more than a decade since he’d slept with a woman in his arms. God knew when he’d get the chance to do it again. He hated that she’d been attacked, but this was one hell of a silver lining.

Beverly woke up sometime around eight, beneath the aging quilt she’d inherited from her mother – one of the few personal belongings they’d been permitted to keep at the Eternal Family Foundation retreat where she’d grown up. When it had disbanded shortly after she’d turned sixteen, she’d taken the quilt with her in honor of her mother’s memory.

Sarah had slept wrapped in it, as a baby. The thought made her aching head pound even harder.

She was no closer to her daughter than she was to her long-dead mother. Sarah might as well have died, too.

Rising on shaky legs, she went to the kitchen and popped a mug of water into the microwave before picking up the telephone.

She didn’t try Sarah’s old number this time. No, that ship had sailed. Instead, she dialed the Quick Stop & Shop along the highway between Cypress and Wilmington.

“I’m taking a sick day,” she told Marty, her supervisor. “I’ve got some sort of nasty stomach bug.”

He tried to talk her into showing up late, but she refused. She couldn’t work today – she had more important things to do.

After hanging up, she lowered a tea bag into her microwaved mug and left it on the counter to steep.

She poured a bowl of cereal and milk, then delivered it to Sarah’s bedroom, where the ungrateful girl she’d brought home the night before still sat curled in one corner of the bed.

Not a word was spoken, and Beverly was careful to re-latch the door. She’d deal with the girl later.

For now, she had more pressing matters.

Sarah’s computer was still sitting on the floor in the hall. Piece by piece, she carried it to the kitchen table and plugged it into the nearest outlet.

She’d learned to use the thing years ago in order to find and monitor the social media accounts Sarah had made, against Beverly’s clear instructions to avoid such things.

Not that that monitoring had given her any clue as to where Sarah had gone. After her disappearance, Beverly had searched for the accounts only to discover they’d been deleted.

Her mind was elsewhere, now. Sarah had talked her into buying the computer so that she could use it for her schoolwork. She’d hounded her, telling her time and time again that ‘you could find out anything on the internet’.

Now, she was counting on it. Last night had shown her that she was stronger in mind than she was in body. She’d barely managed to get the girl home, and had had to leave a witness behind.

Fortunately, there were ways to overcome her physical weakness. She didn’t have to use her body to fight evil and stop girls like Sarah from making terrible mistakes. Her mind would do just fine.

* * * * *

After the assault, Lucia took the rest of the week off work. The aquatic center had a rule against entering the pool with open wounds.

Sitting around at home, constantly wondering about Olivia, was brutal on her nerves and her conscience. In an attempt to help, she interviewed with the police yet again, doing her best to relate every detail she could muster.

What they seemed most interested in was what she’d seen of her attacker’s attire – black women’s tennis shoes, and dark-colored athletic pants.

She was glad to help, but nothing erased the guilt raging inside her. She’d done what little she could: called Olivia’s parents and apologized profusely, and told the police she’d assist in any way they could come up with. Still, there was no sign of Olivia, and it was burning a ragged hole in her heart.

* * * * *

On a day he’d asked to have off work, Jeremy inhaled the antiseptic scent of the hospital as he walked down a white and maroon tiled hall. Over the years, he’d escorted plenty of arrestees through the doors, even sat with them in their rooms when the law dictated that he do so. It wasn’t hard for him to navigate the building.

Still, he didn’t like it. There were shitty memories around every corner, from sitting with mentally disturbed arrestees to rushing to see his father before he’d died – and being too late.

The only good memory he’d ever made in the place was seeing Paige come into the world, but that seemed a million years in the past. The lonely nights spent rocking and feeding her while she’d cried for a mother who’d disappeared were much more vivid.

He stopped in front of a partially-open door and rapped on its surface.

It squealed a little on its hinges as Amanda appeared. “Sergeant Connor – come on in.”

She looked more put together than last time, in khaki shorts and a green top with fluttery sleeves. Still, her make-up didn’t quite conceal the dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was in a ponytail.

He tipped his head as he entered. “How’s it going?”

Richardson sat propped up in bed, his eyes on the door. A crumpled fast food bag rested on the bedside stand, and a melodramatic cop show was playing on the TV.

“You’re just in time for the dramatic conclusion,” Richardson said, nodding toward the TV, “but you missed the part where the good guy shot a .38 right out of the murderer’s hand from two blocks away, in the dark.”

“I brought you something.” Jeremy raised the bottle of Dr. Pepper he’d carried from a vending machine in the lobby.

Richardson reached for it with his good arm – the other was heavily bandaged. “Thanks.”

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Could be worse, although it’s definitely been better.” He tried a half-hearted shrug, then winced and swore. “Surgery went fine. I’m getting out of here today.”

“That so?”

He nodded. “By this evening. All I’m doing around here anymore is taking up space. I might as well go home and be useless there.”

Amanda laid a hand on Richardson’s arm and gave him a look that was half-sympathetic, half-reproachful. “You’re not useless. I have every intention of putting that good arm of yours to work.”

A big, dopey grin spread across his face, and he waggled his eyebrows. “I look forward to seeing how creative you can get.”

She blushed. “I was thinking you could fold laundry.”

“I hope that’s a euphemism for something a lot more interesting.”

The pink hue in her cheeks deepened to red. “Don’t pay him any mind; it’s the pain medication.”

“I’m used to him. Anything I can do for y’all while you’re still here?”

“We’re fine,” she said.

“I could pick up some food and bring it back.”

“Just ate,” Richardson said.

“As if that ever stopped you before?”

“I just wanna get out of here. Having you bring food would be like admitting I’m not about to leave. I don’t want the nurses to think I’m getting complacent.”

“Suit yourself. Amanda, you want anything?”

“No thanks. I’m anxious to get home too.”

“Hey,” Richardson said. “I heard all about the latest shit that went down in the park on the news. Texted Langley, and he said they’re pretty sure the attacker was female. Can you believe that?”

Jeremy fought to maintain a neutral expression. “So much for our asshole boyfriend theory.”

“She must be off her rocker. I’d say she was an addict looking for some quick cash, but she hasn’t robbed anyone. It’s gotta be pure craziness, then.”

“Won’t know until we catch her.” Jeremy felt the mental itch, too – the urge to know
why
.  He could understand crimes motivated by greed, a desire for vengeance, a lust for power… Those were a dime a dozen. But this was bizarre.

Richardson was probably right; the woman was probably mentally unbalanced. Either that, or just cruel – pure evil.

“You’re bothering him, Matt.” Amanda tapped Richardson on the shoulder. “He doesn’t want to talk about this – not on his time off.”

Richardson snorted. “Believe me, he can’t stop thinking about it, even when he’s off duty. Not while that bitch is still running around out there and that girl is missing.”

Amanda frowned, and Richardson looked to Jeremy, as if seeking back-up.

“He’s right; I can’t turn that part of my brain off. Knowing someone capable of the things that woman has done is still out there is like a bad itch that won’t stop ‘till she’s caught, especially since a minor is involved now.”

“See?” Richardson raised his eyebrows at Amanda.

Jeremy made the decision to come clean in a split second, without even really deliberating.

“Last Tuesday, at the park, it got personal. The victim found at the scene is my neighbor. We’ve been dating.”

“You’re serious?” Richardson’s mouth hung open. “Shit!”

Jeremy nodded.

Amanda offered her sympathy, and he thanked her.

After that, conversation on the matter stalled. There was an awkwardness in the air, and Jeremy figured he might as well take advantage of it – say what he’d come to say.

“Look, Richardson – Amanda. I want you both to know I’m sorry. For not taking down Sharp before he put that bullet in you.”

“Shit,” Richardson said, “it wasn’t
your
fault, Sarge.”

“If I’d had my weapon out before he’d drawn his, I might’ve been able to stop him.”

Richardson shook his head and grimaced. “You take aim at everyone who moves too fast? Come on – you know it was just shitty luck. How were you supposed to know? He’s been arrested a dozen times before and never pulled anything like that.”

It was true, and it was the same logic that had guided his actions on that day.

“Sergeant Connor, we don’t blame you,” Amanda said. “You did all you could, and you probably saved Matt’s life. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped Sharp and called for help? We’re glad you were there.”

Jeremy exhaled, his chest tightening. No matter what they said, his guilt was a burden. But as he bid them goodbye and left the hospital, it was a little lighter.

* * * * *

“You’re spoiling me,” Lucia said.

Jeremy set the casserole dish down on her kitchen counter. “I am not. My mother made this; I’m just the delivery boy.”

“Free hot, homemade food delivered by a handsome man in uniform? That should be the new dictionary definition of spoiling.”

He shrugged. “She would’ve brought it over herself or sent Paige, except she’s hell bent on trying to make sure we see as much of each other as possible.”

“Well, it was really nice of her to make this for me. Especially since I’m perfectly capable of cooking for myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He popped the lid off the container, revealing a lasagna that permeated her kitchen with heavenly scents of tomato, cheese and spiced beef.

When he turned on his heel to fetch a plate from a cabinet, her gaze gravitated to his ass. His uniform pants molded to its tight muscle in a way that made her sigh again. He’d make a great traffic cop – all he’d have to do would be stand with his backside to traffic, and it would stop.