Shades of Temptation (16 page)

Jase doubted he’d ever felt this much pleasure before. And as
Carrie began to moan and shudder with the strength of her climax, he knew the
same was true for her.

* * *

A
LL
C
ARRIE
’
S
FOCUS
had been on the feel of Jase’s body inside
hers and the ecstatic expression on his face as she’d ridden him. From those
things alone, she’d derived more pleasure than she ever had. That’s why, when
her body suddenly exploded with pulses of intense pleasure that just kept
building and building, it took her a second to realize she was actually having
an orgasm.

And Jase had hardly done a thing. He’d held himself beneath
her, allowed her to take the lead and except for when he’d suckled her breasts,
he hadn’t even touched her. And yet here she was having the most intense climax
of her life.

And the longest.

It kept going and going, giving no signs of waning. His hips
pulsed against hers, and she realized he was somehow keeping the sensations
going, proving to her that he wasn’t passive at all but guiding her toward the
ultimate pleasure with ease.

“Jase. No more,” she finally gasped when the feelings became
too intense. He immediately stilled and caressed her back while she came down
from the heights to which he’d flung her. As she did, however, she realized that
while she’d climaxed, he hadn’t. He was still thick and hard inside her, and
holding himself ruthlessly still.

Did he think he was going to give her amazing pleasure and take
none for himself?

She wasn’t about to let that happen.

She clenched her internal muscles around him. Surprise
flickered across his face an instant before he groaned. Planting her palms on
his chest to steady herself, she began to move. Slowly but surely. Easing him
out of her body a fraction of a time before pushing him back inside. His hands
found her hips, guiding her, increasing her speed until the sound of their flesh
meeting echoed like a drum. Jase kept his gaze on hers, refusing to look away,
letting her see every second of pleasure she was giving him. When those
beautiful eyes of his finally shut, she knew he was close. She dragged his hands
to her breasts and whispered, “Now, Jase. Come for me.”

The hands that gently cupped her were a sharp contrast to the
frantic movements of their hips and the grimace of pleasure-pain on his face.
With a final, urgent thrust of his hips, Jase exploded. He shouted out his
release, gloriously uninhibited and so sexy she couldn’t take her eyes off
him.

It took him a few seconds to open his eyes. When he did, he
pushed back her damp hair and smiled. His satisfied expression sent a sharp echo
of the joy she’d experienced zinging through her.

“Kiss me,” he said.

Instinctively, she wasn’t even sure why, she shook her head.
She’d kissed him before. Had enjoyed it. Why wouldn’t she kiss him now? But
something about the painfully full feeling in her chest told her that if she
kissed him, it would be too strong an intimacy and would cause her protective
shell to explode, leaving every part of her vulnerable and bare. She trusted
him, but that didn’t matter. She’d never shown anyone all of herself. She never
would.

But apparently Jase wasn’t happy with that plan.

With his eyes narrowing, he suddenly flipped her over. The next
thing she knew, she was pinned underneath him, with her wrists bracketed in one
of his hands and held over her head. He was still inside her, his hips resting
heavily within the cradle of her splayed thighs.

“Kiss me,” he ordered again. “Now.”

She trembled at the dominance in his voice and was certain he
didn’t miss her reaction. She forced herself to lift a brow. “Or?”

He leaned down until his nose touched hers. “Or I’ll make you
come again, and I won’t ease off this time no matter how much you beg.”

She couldn’t help herself. She smiled tauntingly at him.
“Really? Considering I already came and that was a major feat in and of itself,
I’d say you have a pretty tough job in front of you.”

He smiled a fierce smile that had her shivering with nerves.
“That’s what I was hoping you would say.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

B
RAD
STARED
AT
THE
BOXES
littering the small apartment
he rented. It was a ridiculous way to live, and the twin mattress on the floor
wasn’t exactly luxury accommodations. But it wasn’t as if he’d had a lot of
options in the matter.

It had taken all the money he’d been able to scrape together to
move to San Francisco, but he’d truly believed it would be worth it. After all,
he had
family
here. Plus, he’d been picked on his
whole life. He wasn’t going to let Dr. Odell Bowers get away with what he’d
done.

Deceiving Brad. Lying to him. Bilking him of all his money.

And that didn’t even take into account all the physical pain
Brad had suffered over the years. Because of
him.

That, more than anything, required payback.

The question was, knowing what he now knew, what type of
payment was Brad going to extract?

Money was always good, and the good doctor had more than enough
of that to go around.

A little suffering would be nice, too, of course. Very nice.
For once, Brad wouldn’t be the worm writhing on the hook, someone else
would.

And then there was always good old-fashioned gloating. If there
was one thing Dr. Bowers had more than his fair share of, it was pride. He
thought he was so damn superior. So smart.

Yet Brad had put all the pieces of the puzzle together within
minutes.

Bowers had been his doctor for years. His sole task: to rid
Brad of the port-wine stain that had plagued him his entire life. The damn
doctor actually thought he’d been successful, when Brad knew the difference. At
first, Brad had thought he’d been the crazy one, seeing a deformity when it was
no longer there. But then he’d heard someone talking in McGill’s Bar. Someone
talking about the serial killer who cut the eyelids from his victims.

Brad had immediately thought of Dr. Odell Bowers and the
various horror movies they’d discussed over the years. Bowers’s favorite had
been a movie about a killer who cut the eyelids off his victims. It had been a
detail too unique to ignore.

Of course, he’d figured it was a weird coincidence. It
certainly didn’t prove Bowers was a killer. Not by itself. Then Brad had
overheard two other details. That the killer performed some type of
“beautifying” procedure on his victims afterward. And that the killer had
started his work in Fresno before moving on to San Francisco.

Bowers had moved his practice from Fresno to San Francisco.

And Bowers was a doctor who helped improve the looks of his
clients. At least, that’s what he was
supposed
to
do.

Brad might be hideously ugly, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew how
to put two and two together, and this case, two and two equaled Bowers.

It was Bowers who was crazy, not him.

Bowers who saw a scar that was gone, when it really wasn’t.

And in the end, although he hadn’t done the job the way he was
supposed to, Bowers would still be the one to help Brad rid himself of his
deformity. Because it had been Bowers who’d motivated Brad to approach Kelly
Sorenson. And then to kill her.

Now Brad had all the information and the power he needed. With
it, he would not only get everything he’d ever wanted, he’d get more than he’d
ever imagined was possible.

And whatever form of payment Brad extracted from Odell Bowers,
one thing was certain.

Brad was going to make sure he witnessed, acknowledged and
spread the news that it was Brad who had the power now. Then Brad would find his
next victim.

No, not his next victim, he thought. His next donor.

The word victim implied Brad was taking something he had no
right to. That wasn’t the case. Did the lion victimize the gazelle?

No, the gazelle had its place in the world. Its place was to
feed the lion.

Just as Brad’s donors had their place.

To give Brad the power and beauty they were too weak to keep
for themselves.

To give him the means to have Nora.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

W
HEN
J
ASE
WOKE
IN
the
morning, he wasn’t surprised to find himself alone in his big bed. He didn’t
bother calling out Carrie’s name, either. She wasn’t in the house. He suspected
she’d hightailed it out a while ago and was now in full-on denial mode.

The question was whether he was going to let her stay in
it.

Truth be told, after their explosive night together, he was
feeling shell-shocked enough to think that some denial could be a very good
thing. He’d known bedding Carrie would be a momentous experience, but he
couldn’t have known just how earth-shattering it would be. Once again, thoughts
of a future with her kept intruding, and it was enough to scare the shit out of
him.

Though he wasn’t the player everyone, including Carrie, thought
he was, he definitely valued his freedom and had always savored the variety of
women he dated and bedded. In addition, he truly appreciated the benefits of
simplicity when he was off the job. Sure, he’d enjoyed the past few days he’d
spent with Carrie, and that included their circling and sparring, but he
couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just a fluke and that Carrie’s combative nature
wouldn’t grow tiresome as more and more time passed.

He had to tread very carefully here, not just for himself, but
for Carrie, too.

Though Carrie hadn’t let him completely inside her emotional
walls, and certainly hadn’t declared her undying love for him or demanded any
kind of commitment, the fact that she’d slept with him wasn’t something that he
could take lightly, either. Hell, the fact that he was her first lover in six
years was meaningful enough, but given what he knew about her, that she’d been
raped, that she had major trust issues when it came to men finding her
attractive in spite of her strength, he knew the chances that she felt something
for him besides just sexual attraction were high. What bothered him most,
however, was how pleased he was by the thought. And how much he wanted her to
ask for a commitment from him.

Thoughtfully, he rubbed his jaw, then got up and got ready for
work. When he went out to the living room, he found a note on the kitchen
counter.
Gone shopping and have several appointments this
morning but I’ll catch up with you afterward. Carrie.

Well, that was right to the point, wasn’t it? No smiley faces,
hearts or even a “love” in the signature line to make him believe she viewed
last night as anything more than having scratched a much-needed itch. So he’d
play along for now. At least until he got things straightened out in his own
head.

He called her cell phone.

“Hi, Jase. What’s up?” she asked softly.

Hearing her voice immediately had him recalling how she’d
sounded when he’d been on top of her and making her beg, just as he’d promised
she would.

Jase, please. Stop. Don’t stop. That feels
so good. That feels amazing.

He closed his eyes and replayed the moment he’d finally
relented and let her come down from her release, but only because he’d been
about to explode himself and he’d wanted her to be looking at him when he did.
Despite his heated thoughts, his voice was measured and calm when he spoke.

“Have you heard anything about the firebombing on your
house?”

“SFPD picked up some suspects. They claim they’ve never met
Kevin Porter. But they’re verified as being with the same gang, so that’s not
likely.”

“You said you need to go shopping? Anything I can get you?”

“Thanks, but I just need some clothes to get me through the
next couple of weeks. I’ve contacted my insurance company, but I’m not going to
worry about anything but the case for right now. I can’t.”

Message received, Jase thought. Loud and clear. “Speaking of
the case,” he said. “Have you gotten any results on the legwork we’ve done so
far?”

“As far as tracking down embalming supply purchases, nothing.
As far as tracking down a privately operated kiln or unlawful access to a
crematorium, also nothing,” Carrie said. “But I did discover that having a body
cremated is no easy task. Although it would take only a few hours for the actual
process to be completed, we’re talking something whose temperature can get as
high as 1100 to 1800 degrees. That would require a massive amount of gas that
would be trackable through the energy companies, but that’s turned up no clues,
as well. In addition, having a body cremated by a licensed professional requires
the submission of a variety of forms, some signed by various doctors confirming
the victim’s cause of the death and providing authorization for the
cremation.”

“So if it’s so hard to actually cremate a body, maybe he’s
lying about that,” Jase said.

“I had the same thought. He might be lying about the embalming
process, too. All we have are some photographs and The Embalmer’s word.” She
hesitated and he knew immediately what she was thinking.

“You think the photos were doctored?” he asked. It was a
definite possibility, but they couldn’t make any assumptions.

“For all we know, the ashes that had been found with the
testable items of victim DNA weren’t actually the victim’s ashes. We can’t know
for sure because it’s impossible to run DNA tests on ashes. Given all that, I
think our best bet for now is focusing on the college connection between Cheryl
Anderson and Kelly Sorenson.”

She was right. They’d still have to explore the cremation
angle, but the common connection between the victims was their strongest chance
of finding their killer. “I’ll work on contacting witnesses from McGill’s. I
haven’t reached DeMarco yet….”

“The commander said he had a family emergency, but it’s weird
we can’t reach him on his cell.”

It
was
weird and some of the
concern he heard in her voice poked at him. Still, DeMarco could handle himself
and there was no point in worrying. “I’m sure it’s nothing. We should also start
questioning witnesses at the college. See if we can find another connection
between our vics that maybe Susan Ingram doesn’t know about or maybe wasn’t
copping to. What are you doing after your appointment? Should I meet you at
SIG?”

“Why don’t you get started with interviews on campus, focusing
on anyone who knew Kelly Sorenson, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.
I’ll focus on questioning witnesses who knew Cheryl Anderson.”

“Okay.” He almost hung up, but with the vibrant images of their
lovemaking still in his head, he impulsively said, “Carrie, last night—”

“Was a mistake, Jase,” she said in a rush. “A big one. I mean,
it was fun, getting to experience your brand of magic firsthand, but we work
together. It can’t happen again.”

He wasn’t in the least surprised by her words. By the fact she
was not only in denial, but in retreat mode. She had to be feeling as shaken up
as he was, wanting to put things back the way they were, with each of them in
their respective corners and a safe, respectable distance away. He’d let her get
away with it for now, but he wasn’t going to lie to her, either. “I disagree
with you, but it’s obviously your call.”

“That’s it?” she asked suspiciously. “No trying to change my
mind? It must not have been that great for you, after all.”

He looked at the phone chidingly, as if she could really see
his expression. “Oh, it was damn good for me and you know it. The best. I just
know better than to try and argue with you.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

“True.” He leaned back against the counter and took a sip of
his freshly poured coffee. “But I said it’s your call. I never said I wouldn’t
do all I could to change your mind.”

She didn’t seem to have a comeback for that, so he said a quiet
goodbye and hung up.

* * *

D
ESPITE
HER
BEST
intentions, when Carrie disconnected the call
with Jase, she was smiling.

I said it’s your call. I never said I
wouldn’t do all I could to change your mind.

That was the Jase she knew and loved.

She stumbled at her unfortunate choice in words. She loved what
she’d done to him last night. She’d loved what he’d done to her. But she didn’t
love Jase. She couldn’t.

So why did it feel as if she did?

Thirty minutes later, she walked into Dr. Lana Hudson’s office
at the SFPD. She’d thought she’d had her last appointment with Lana before she’d
returned to SIG, but Lana had left a voice mail for her yesterday asking to see
her again. Carrie assumed it was just a follow-up to check in with her now that
she’d returned to work, and that’s exactly what it was. Of course, Lana also
knew other things were adding to Carrie’s stress since she’d returned to work,
and Lana had homed in on those like a vulture tearing into fresh meat. Well,
with a little more class than that, Carrie thought wryly. Lana was so pretty
that the vulture analogy wasn’t all that appropriate.

They spent most of their time talking about Martha Porter’s
lawsuit, in which she claimed Carrie had unjustifiably killed her grandson, but
then Lana got down to the heart of the matter.

“You’ve got a lot going on, Carrie. More so than you did before
with this lawsuit and your house burning down. I’m afraid it’s too much. I’m
glad Stevens has you working with Jase, but you’ve always had a bit of a
contentious relationship with him.”

Carrie thought about all that had transpired between them. In
bed and out. They actually worked fabulously together, and she wasn’t just
talking about the sex. She was learning a lot from Jase and couldn’t deny it had
been a good move on Stevens’s part to team them up.

“Don’t worry, Lana. Nothing will get in the way of the job, I
promise. I feel confident. Strong. Jase and I are making inroads with a
difficult case. We’ll get this guy.”

“Sure. Getting the bad guy. That always comes first, right?”
Her last words were almost bitter, and Carrie wondered why. For a brief moment,
she thought of Simon Granger, fellow SIG agent and now acting supervisor while
Mac was on vacation. Simon and Lana had dated for a while, just before Simon had
taken a desk job at SFPD, but the day Simon had unexpectedly returned to SIG
appeared to be the day their developing relationship had ended. Was it Simon’s
inability to let go of his job as a special agent that was the cause of their
split? The cause of the bitterness in Lana’s tone?

Carrie suspected it was. She didn’t know much about Lana, but
she did know the doctor was a widow and that her husband had served in the
military. Two years after his death, Lana still wore her wedding ring. It would
be perfectly understandable for her to resist dating yet another man who had a
better than average chance of getting killed on the job.

Was Lana right? Did the job always come first? For Carrie, it
had always seemed to. She had never thought there’d come a time when it didn’t.
But now? Now she wasn’t so sure.

She knew she had no business asking, but she did anyway. “Would
you change that? If you could? If you had the power to make Simon leave the job,
would you?”

Lana inhaled sharply. No surprise given how Carrie had turned
the tables, but the other woman didn’t try to deny anything. “Honestly? I don’t
know. I know why he’s a cop. It’s who he is. Who he has to be. I can’t ask him
to give it up. But does a small part of me wish he loved me enough to do so? Of
course. And that’s the rub. It is what it is.”

Acceptance radiated from her, making Carrie’s heart ache. Love
never seemed to work out the way it should. Especially not for cops. And it
seemed to be true whether that cop was a man or a woman, which actually didn’t
make her feel any better about it.

“What about you, Carrie? Would you give up the job? If it meant
you could be with the person you loved most?”

It was Carrie’s turn to be stunned as her thoughts
automatically turned to Jase. Once again, she asked herself the question: Did
she love Jase? More to the point, would she give up her job for him? She’d have
expected her answer to be a resounding no. Was slightly appalled that it wasn’t.
It was more like a soft no, but a reluctant one. A tenuous one. But like Lana
had said, it wasn’t that simple. “You’re right. It’s not an easy answer,” she
said. “I shouldn’t have pried.” She stood again. “Thank you for being concerned
about me, Lana, but I need to go.”

“Carrie—” Lana began.

But Carrie didn’t wait to hear more. She walked from Lana’s
office, but inside she was running. She wasn’t exactly sure why. Her
conversation with Lana had merely confirmed what she’d already known. What she’d
reminded herself time and again. When you were a cop, there wasn’t room for
softer emotions like love. There wasn’t much room for anything. Not if you
wanted to truly be good at your job. Not if bringing justice to victims and
catching the bad guys was to be your number one priority.