Scream for Me (34 page)

“Luke works Internet sex crimes. Lately he’s been on a child protection task force. He’s been deep into a case the last two months. It’s not looking good.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s the job,” Daniel said with a shrug. “Yours, mine. We have to flow with it, and Luke will, too. Here, put these on.” He handed her goggles and earmuffs, then opened her satchel and examined her gun. It was an H&K nine-mil, small enough to fit her hand comfortably. “This is a good gun. You know how to load it?” When she nodded, he added, “You know how to load it
fast
?”

Her chin lifted. “Not yet.”

“We can work on that later. For now, shoot.” He handed her the gun and stepped back and watched. In the station next to Luke, she took aim and fired methodically—and missed the target each time. He found himself justifiably concerned . . . and undeniably aroused. It was a hell of a thing to watch a beautiful woman with a good gun. Especially one who’d told you that making love with you was her happiest memory. Especially when you’d thought the same thing. He frowned, concern overriding his arousal. Especially when she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.

Luke stopped to watch. “Don’t close your eyes,” he said.

She lowered the gun and blinked. “Was I? Well, that’s scary.” She blew out a breath and set herself up to try again.

Luke came over, his eyes full of questions. “How is she?” he asked, low so Alex couldn’t hear. The question made Daniel angry—not at Luke, but angry just the same.

“Given that in the last few days she found out her sister was gang-raped and that her mother was murdered, not too bad.” Luke’s eyes widened and Daniel filled him in.

“Shit. Well, how’s Riley?”

“The vet said he’ll be okay.” He studied Luke’s eyes. “So, what happened?”

Luke’s expression smoothed to one of careful blankness. “It all went down today. We got a fix on three of the kids we’d been tracking through that kiddie-porn site.” He fixed his eyes on Alex, who’d managed to hit the target twice. “We didn’t get there in time.”

“I’m sorry, Luke.”

Luke nodded again. “Two girls and a boy,” he said, his voice steady, but without any emotion. “Sisters and a brother. Fifteen, thirteen, and ten. Shot in the head, all of them.”

Daniel swallowed, able to picture it only too well. “God.”

“We’d missed the perps by at least a day. We shut down the site, but they’ll just reopen somewhere else.” He was staring into space now and Daniel didn’t want to think about what he was seeing. “I need a break. Chase said you had a shitload of names to go through to get a profile on this posse.”

“We can definitely use you.” He clasped Luke’s shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

Luke’s lips twisted. “A key to hell. There’s no other place bad enough for those guys.” A muscle in his clenched jaw spasmed. “I see too many faces in my dreams.”

The fury that roiled inside him bubbled higher. “I know.”

Luke turned, his eyes bright with tears. “I have to go. Leo says you can stay as long as you want. When’s the morning meeting for your case?”

“Eight,” Daniel said. “In the team room.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Luke packed up his gun and ammo and was gone.

Alex lowered her gun and pulled the muffs from her ears. “He’s not okay, is he?”

“No. But, like you, he will be. Put those back on.” He stepped behind her and positioned her arms. “Aim like this.” He showed her, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around her. “Now squeeze the trigger and keep your eyes open.”

She obeyed, nodding sharply when her shot hit the paper target’s chest. “Aim for the chest,” she said. “More area, more room for error. I remember a cop once told me that when he brought a stabbing victim into the ER. Her husband had come at her with a knife. She had a gun, but she’d aimed for his head and missed.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died,” she said flatly. “Show me how again.”

So he did, holding her arms firmly in place. Her focus on the paper target was absolute as she emptied her magazine into its chest. But each shot pushed her body back against him, wreaking havoc with his own concentration. He made himself remember Sheila Cunningham, sitting in the corner, dead.
Focus, Vartanian.

“Load,” he gritted, taking a step back as she followed his direction. Her hands were nimble and she completed the task more quickly than he’d expected. “That was good.”

She lifted the gun, but without his arm guiding hers, her aim was off and by the third shot she was completely off the target again.

“You’re closing your eyes again. Keep them open, Alex.” He covered her arms with his again, righting her aim. Accepting the torture of her body rubbing against his when she settled back into him and emptied another magazine. In the quiet, he shuddered out the breath he’d held. “Load, dammit.”

She twisted to look up at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide with question at his terse command. Then her whiskey-colored eyes darkened with understanding and a need of her own. She turned back and loaded, her fingers just as steady as before. The steadiness, he knew, came from years of functioning under stressful situations. He wished he could watch her in action in her own domain, and realized with a jolt that he wouldn’t be able to. Because when this was over, she’d go back. Back to Ohio. Back to the job she wouldn’t leave and the “nice” ex-husband she saw every damn day.

Another pulse of fury bubbled up. He knew his jealousy was totally irrational, but the other . . . when this was over she would leave.
No, she won’t. I won’t let her.

You can’t stop her.
But he knew he couldn’t let her slip away. He’d deal with her leaving when the time came. Until then, he had to keep her alive. “Try it yourself.”

She’d improved, but her aim drifted and he brought his arms back around her. She shifted, her butt rubbing hard against his groin, once, then twice, before she settled into him and began squeezing the trigger again. The move had been deliberate and had what blood was left in his head pounding a fast steady beat. Then she was done.

She put the gun on the waist-high counter, slipped off the glasses and the earmuffs, and he did the same. For a moment she stood, regarding the target with an icy stare. There was very little of it left. Three rounds from her H&K had ripped it to shreds.

“I think I killed it,” she said evenly, no hint of amusement in her tone.

“I think you did,” he answered, his voice rough and gravelly.

She turned in his arms and lifted her chin, meeting his eyes with cool challenge. Then she pulled his head down for the hottest kiss he’d ever experienced. In seconds it exploded and they were dueling for control, openmouthed and frantic. His hands covered the butt that had tantalized him, pulling her up and into him, rubbing her up and down his length, trying to get some relief. She tightened her arms around his neck and fought to get closer, lifting one knee to buttress his hip. He ran his hands down her thighs and lifted her, groaning into her mouth when she wrapped her legs around him.

“Stop.” He ripped his mouth from hers, panting. She was panting, too, and the sound made him want to rip her clothes off and drive deep into her, right here, right now. But they stood in Leo Papadopoulos’s target range and Daniel suspected even Leo would have a problem with that. He let her legs slide down his body, trying to get his heart back to a normal rhythm. “I have to clean up your shells before we go.”

“I’ll do that!” Leo called from the front in a singsong voice. “You two can just go home and do . . . whatever.”

Daniel snorted a laugh. “Thank you, Leo,” he called back dryly.

“Any time, Daniel.”

Daniel put Alex’s gun back in her satchel and took her hand. She hadn’t dropped her gaze since he’d broken the moment and the look in her eyes had his heart racing again. She looked determined. Dangerous.
This was going to be
really
good
.

Atlanta, Thursday, February 1, 12:50 a.m.

Luckily Leo’s place was not too far from his house. Luckily it was well after midnight and there were few cars on the highway or Daniel would have been tempted to use his lights for personal reasons for the first time ever.

She’d said nothing the entire way home and every minute of silence took the heat higher and higher until Daniel thought he’d lose it like a teenager before he ever got her clothes off. By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was shaking. But if there was any justice in the world, so was she. He grabbed her satchel and hauled her to his front door, his hand trembling as he tried to get the key in the lock. He missed twice before she hissed, “For God’s sake, hurry, Daniel.”

He got the door opened and yanked her inside. Her arms were around his neck and her mouth was kissing him before he got the front door shut. Blindly he closed it, locked it, threw the deadbolt. “Wait. The alarm. I have to set it.”

She withdrew and he turned to the alarm panel. When he looked back, his mouth went dry. Those nimble fingers of hers had made short work of the buttons on her blouse and she was pulling it from her slacks with impatient jerks. Her eyes narrowed.

“Hurry” was all she said.

The single word was like a cracked whip. Roughly he backed her against the door, taking her mouth with desperate ferocity as he pulled her jacket and blouse off her shoulders. Her fingers were quicker and she had his shirt unbuttoned before he could manage the hooks on her bra. Finally he twisted and ripped and her breasts were free and he filled his hands with them, plucking at her nipples, already pebbled hard.

“Alex.” He tried to step back but she was pushing her slacks and panties over her hips and kicking them away, all while her mouth ate at his. “Come to bed.”

“No, do it here.” She stood before him, nude and perfect. “Do it like you wanted to back there.” Then she gave him no choice when she threw her arms around his neck and launched herself high, twining her legs around his waist. “Do it now.”

His pulse rocketed through the top of his head and he yanked at his belt. His knuckles caressing her hot, incredibly wet warmth as he pulled and twisted, making her moan. He dropped his pants, pushed her against the door, and thrust as hard as he could. Finally all that wet warmth was surrounding him, pulling him deeper, driving him insane.

She cried out, but there was no pain in her eyes, only heat and need and want and he knew he needed to see those eyes glaze over in mindless satisfaction.

“Keep your eyes open,” he muttered and she nodded once, hard. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and his dug into her hips and held on as he pounded into her, giving free rein to the beast that roared inside his head. He pounded until he couldn’t remember anything about the day, until all the fear was gone from her eyes, leaving only dazed passion. Her body arched and she cried out again as she came, gripping him, dragging him with her.

He plunged a final time, and the pleasure was like a brick to his head. He slumped against her, pressing her into the door. His lungs pumped as he gasped for air, certain that if he died right then and there, he could want no more. Then he pulled back to see her face, and knew he had to have her again. And again. She was panting, but her mouth curved. And she looked . . . proud. Incredibly satisfied, but proud, just the same.

“That was really,
really
good,” she said.

He laughed, then wheezed in another breath. “I think three reallys would about kill me, but I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

“I’m living life on the edge lately. I say we go for it.”

Thursday, February 1, 1:30 a.m.

Someone was crying again. Bailey could hear the plaintive wail through the walls. A door opened down the hall, followed by a hollow thud, then silence. It happened about two or three times every night.

Then her door flew open, bouncing back against the concrete wall.
He
came in and grabbed her by the blouse that was now tattered and rank. “You lied to me, Bailey.”

“Wh—?” She cried out when the back of his hand connected with her cheek.

“You lied to me. Alex’s key is not in her house.” He shook her, hard. “Where is it?”

Bailey stared at him, unable to speak. She’d told Alex to hide the key. She had no idea where it could be. “I . . . don’t know.”

“Then let’s see if we can make your brain work a little better.” He yanked, dragging her from the room, and she tried to make her mind shut down. Tried to keep herself from saying anything more. Tried to keep herself from praying to die.

Atlanta, Thursday, February 1, 2:10 a.m.

Alex’s body was sore in all the right places. She rolled her head on the pillow to look at him, the only movement she could muster. Daniel lay on his back as, openmouthed, he struggled to fill his lungs.

“I hope you don’t need CPR,” she muttered, “because I don’t think I can move.”

His laugh was half groan. “I think I’ll live.” He rolled to his side and pulled her against him, so that they lay spooned together. “But I needed it,” he added quietly.

“So did I,” she whispered. “Thank you, Daniel.”

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, reached to turn off the light, and pulled the blanket over them. She’d started to drift off when he sighed. “Alex, I need to talk to you.”