Soft Target (26 page)

“I’m right here.” His whisper was strained. “Give me this. Please.”

She couldn’t relax. He was here, watching her, doing incredible things to her. But it wasn’t enough. She was empty.

He leaned to her ear, adding heat to her torture. “Da-da-da-dum-da-da—” His smile tickled her skin.

“Evil man.” Laughter bubbled over, relaxing her muscles. The climax began in her toes and shivered upward. Maggie curled around him, buried her mouth in the curve of his shoulder and screamed.

She was still clinging to him when he slid into her, and she bucked at the friction on her swollen flesh.

He stopped, hovering over her. “Are you sure?”

Pressing an openmouthed kiss to his skin, she sampled his sweat and inhaled his scent. Her body claimed his, pulling him deeper. “Yes.”

Their hard and steady pace imitated his earlier one, and Maggie lost track of how many times he pushed her to the brink only to pull back and take her there again. She couldn’t get enough air, and he’d begun muffling his groans in her shoulder.

When his teeth scraped her skin, she gasped in his ear.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Another climax was within her reach. She tugged him back, offering herself. “Again.
Please
.”

The swipe of his tongue was followed by the rasp of his beard, the nip of his teeth and the wash of his breath over the moisture. As he sucked, his purr shook her bones. She tipped over the edge again, this time more intense than the first.

His thrusts sped and she welcomed him every time he returned. He’d become feral, concentrating his sharp gaze on her face, his smile glittering as he growled his approval and their sweat-slicked bodies created a new rhythm.

Maggie arched her neck as her muscles clenched and her nerves tingled. Every climax had let him go deeper than the time before, and now he’d reached the spot that pushed her body out of her control. He was too far away. She flailed for a pillow.

He put his hand over her mouth, firm enough to muffle sound. “Wanna watch,” he panted, still managing to smile.

With his next deep stroke, she put her hand over his, pressed her mouth into his palm and unleashed a primal noise dragged from deep within. It peaked again as he spilled inside her. He collapsed, cradling her to him as his groan rattled her body inside and out.

It was impossible to tell which of them was shaking harder as he slipped free, pulled the sheet over them and shared his pillow.

Sometime later, she woke as his fingers trailed up and down her spine. Unspoken questions lay heavy in the air.

“It’s okay. We’ve been married two weeks and I’ve had three accidents in three separate cars. We’ve spent more time working than at home. No one will be surprised when you—”

He rolled, hovering over her in the dark. His body pressed against hers, warm, heavy and strong. “Can we not talk about that right now?” he whispered. “Can we just...pretend?”

She couldn’t pretend with him now—pretend he wasn’t leaving when she knew he was. Because later she was going to have to pretend for everyone else—pretend he was coming back when she knew he wasn’t. She’d be left with nothing but memories, and she’d have to pretend it didn’t matter.

He kissed her, and the sweetness of it brought tears to her eyes as he slid his hands around her curves, liquefying her bones and muscles. She might as well store as many memories as possible.

* * *

It was a lousy way to spend the night—under a tree in the shadows, the cold seeping through layers of clothes—watching them learn to take pleasure in each other. No attempt to separate them had worked. Instead, they were growing closer. Despite their arguments, bruises and stitches, they smiled more. He touched her more often, and he never left her side. Last night, he’d left his bed to go to hers. After tonight, he’d never leave. She’d never let him go. Nothing would work as planned if he stayed.

The rifle barrel was a cold reminder. It could end now, but the risk was too great. They protected each other, even in their sleep.

Tomorrow. Gray Harper would leave Fiddler
tomorrow
. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to stay.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Oh my God.”

Gray lay in bed and listened to Maggie in the bathroom, glad she wasn’t near enough to see his satisfied smirk.
Oh my God
was an understatement. He rolled out of bed and sauntered to the door.

She was staring into the mirror, touching her finger to the pink flesh on her sternum. His smile widened. He remembered how she’d gotten that.

“Whisker burn.”

She turned to him, a shy smile on her swollen lips and in her hazy eyes, and his whole body twitched in the desire to take her back to bed and keep her there until she begged him to stay. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and took in the rest of her. Sex-weary eyes focused on the tiny bruises littering her shoulders and hips. God, even her knees. Spots where he’d held her tight for fear she’d vanish.

She followed his gaze. Her smile widened. “They don’t hurt.” She twisted her neck to reveal a larger bruise. “But this one’s gonna be hard to explain.”

He gave up keeping away from her, kissing her shoulder before he edged past her into the bathroom. “You made the most incredible noises when I did that. And you
felt
amazing.” His fingers drifted over her skin as he leaned against the vanity. “You may need a rabies test.”

When her eyes widened, he looked over his shoulder and stared at the welts and scratches on his back. His smirk returned. “Wow. I don’t feel so bad anymore.”

“You might need a tetanus shot.” She traced one long welt, reminding him how it had gotten there in the first place.

“I like your hands on me.” He wanted them on him again.

She sighed. “Jeff’s awake. I heard him making coffee.”

Gray started the shower and stepped inside. “He makes horrible coffee.”

“Worse than Roger?” Maggie asked.

For the first time in forever, the man’s name made him laugh. “No one’s is worse than Roger’s. I had to dump it out and start over. Not even that horrible scone could get rid of the taste.”

As he left the shower, she stepped in. “Where are you going? I thought we could—”

Nothing would make him happier than pushing her to the wall and hearing her groans echo. “Jeff’s got ears like a bat, honey.”

Her eyes widened along with her smile. “Now you tell me.”

Gray shaved from memory and feel, watching her in the mirror and cutting himself twice. When she reached for a towel, he fled to the closet.

The long shelves and rods were laughably empty, with his work clothes on one side and his suits on the other. He had two—the one he wore to church and the one he’d worn to marry Maggie. He picked the church one.

Dressed, he walked to his nightstand. After stretching into his holster, he slid his pistol home. He slipped his badge over his belt, shrugged into his jacket and pulled his raid jacket over his suit. And he stood there, feeling like he’d gained a hundred pounds.

“Wow,” Maggie whispered as she walked across the room and slid her arms around his waist. “This is a sexy memory.”

It was. Her skin was softer than her negligee, and she smelled like him. Of all the memories he’d take, this was his favorite. This morning where they got to be married. “Shouldn’t you get dressed?”

“My clothes are across the house. I’m not nuts about doing the walk of shame.”

It felt good to laugh. “Hang on a minute.” He walked down the hall and acted as lookout, making sure Jeff kept his back to the windows while Maggie scurried to her side of the house.

Certain she was safe, he carried his coffee outside and met Jeff’s smirk head-on. “Quantico.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeff rolled his eyes. “We’re even. Ready to go?”

No. He’d never be ready. Maggie’s door swung open and she strode into the living room. Gray nodded and went to her side.

They drove to town in silence, and he left the truck running while he walked her to her stairs and swept the building. Back at the door, he pulled her into his arms and held her close.

“I’ll come get you tonight,” he whispered. “We’ll go for a ride, and we’ll go home, and Jeff can sleep in the yard.”

“Be safe,” she murmured as she kissed his cheek. “I’ll be here.”

He stole one last taste of her before he trudged out the door and to the truck. From behind the wheel, he stared at the door and willed it to open, for her to come out and tell him—

“I think you need to put it in gear for us to go anywhere.”

Jeff’s teasing grumble from the passenger seat jerked Gray’s attention back to his job. He drove down the alley and took a left through town.

Deb Simon waved from the library steps.
I have books to return. Maggie shouldn’t have to deal with those.

Archie Miles, the stone yard foreman, lifted his hand as he passed by.

“I need to remember to tell Nate about new load restrictions on the state highway.”

“Huh?” Jeff grunted.

“He can’t take stone over his favorite route until they’re done reinforcing it.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing here?”

He shook his head. “Not all the time.” As they drove, he briefed Jeff on what a normal day was—had been—like.

“I guess it was a good break from being her shadow.”

Gray waved at Bev Marx as they circled the courthouse. She was shopping for baby clothes.
I need to stop by and see Tiffany and the baby before I go.

“I’m not her shadow. She hates that. We did things together.”

Diana Fisher pulled out in front of them and waved through the open sunroof of her tiny VW.
I should send her something for her help with physical therapy. Maggie would send her cookies or maybe pumpkin bread. I could eat
—
No. No more extra loaf for me.

“Like what?”

Breakfast on the patio.
“She has the most interesting way of analyzing
The Wall Street Journal
, and she has a busy schedule.”

“I’ll bet they control everything with their purse strings.”

He shook his head. “They aren’t like that.” Gray swept his hand across the windshield. “Look around, Crandall. There’s not a Mathis name on anything in this town except the family businesses.”
And the church pew. In front of mine and Maggie’s.

Charlene blew him a kiss from in front of the grocery store. Gray shook his head and blew one back.

“Who are all these people?”

He shrugged. “Friends.”

“Her friends treat you like this?”

“My friends, and my clients. Estate planning, real estate. Fitz has sent me a few tax cases.”

Jeff rifled through his notes. “Fitz, as in J.R. Fitzsimmmons?”

“J.R. is Fitz’s son.”

“It’s like Walton’s Mountain. No wonder you’re anxious to get back to Chicago and take down the bad guys.”

Gray sat at the four-way stop. The church was to his right, and the police station was to his left. “Do you ever think about what happens to them?”

“The criminals? No.”

“Most of my cases could have been avoided.” He glanced at Jeff. “It’s part of the puzzle, finding the path they took. I could see where they went wrong, what would have kept them from trouble. But that wasn’t—isn’t—my job.”

“Gray?”

“I liked building something for a change.”

Jeff eased his hand toward his pistol. “There’s a car sitting behind you. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. Like he’s waiting. Did we pick up a tail?”

Gray looked in the rearview mirror and then turned to wave. “That’s Reverend Ferguson.”

“He’d been back there for a while. He didn’t even honk.”

“They don’t do that here.” As he turned left, Gray’s wedding band winked in the sunlight.

Fuck this...this wishy-washy shit. He was staying. Here. In his home. With his wife. Her birthday was in five months. A lot could happen in five months.

He tossed Jeff his phone. “Dial Bob while I drive.”

* * *

Back at Orrin’s, sitting at an empty table, Maggie stared at her wedding ring and the glistening pattern it cast across the hardwood. It was time to live up to her part of their bitter bargain.

She put her left hand in her lap and pulled her order sheet closer with her right. If she didn’t finish this, she’d be out of beer by the weekend. Hell, considering today’s agenda, she might need to order extra so she could spend the rest of the week sloshed upstairs. No one would know.

The bell on the front door jangled, and Abby walked in and straight to the table. Her dog, Toby, was at her heels. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Maggie rushed to assure her. “I’m just tired. It’s been a weird few weeks.”

Abby cocked an eyebrow. “Bullshit.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Charlene too much.”

Abby stroked Toby with one hand and reached for Maggie with the other. “You’ve been sad for weeks.” The soft question was echoed in her friend’s gentle gaze.

Abby stood and put a picture on the table. One Maggie had never seen. She and Graham were in the alcove at church before Nate’s wedding. She was fixing his tie and he was resting his hands on her hips. Totally unguarded, quiet...together.

“Be brave,” Abby said as she left.

Maggie turned on the stereo, and the soundtrack for prom filled the bar with Top Forty rhythms so sweet they made her teeth hurt. She could almost hear Graham groaning from his office. But he wasn’t here.

Four months ago, this had been one of her favorite times of the day because she could sink into her routine. Two months ago, she’d grown to enjoy having Graham here for coffee and reading the paper. Two weeks ago, they’d been screaming at each other and she’d told herself he couldn’t be gone soon enough.

Now, as life without him loomed in front of her, she knew she’d always be waiting to hear his long tread down the hallway, she’d remember how he felt curled against her, inside her, how he tasted. Worse, she’d remember how it felt to have someone next to her, seeing the things she didn’t, helping where she couldn’t, sharing her concerns, reminding her to play.

Now she knew why Granddad had spent years turning when a door opened, why he’d worked himself to exhaustion and then slept in his recliner.

Her grandfather would’ve risked everything for another day with his wife. And her father...didn’t. He’d been stuck here, alone, because he’d stuck himself here. Maggie stared out the window. It was a risk, but Graham was worth it.

* * *

“There is no way he’d do this,” Gray muttered as he sat on the edge of the conference table, his shoulders slumped and his hands dangling between his knees. Jeff’s notes were carefully laid out on the whiteboard in front of him. Behind him, the low mutter of the small town police station was a constant white noise. “Carl would never hurt her. He couldn’t.”

“Gray—”

He shook his head. “And you’re forgetting that a
woman
called claiming to be from the hospital. My money’s on Kate.”

“But she’s got an alibi for the shooting. She was getting called on the carpet for her divorce pool.”

Each of them sat on the table, flipping through stacks of information and looking for missed clues.

“So, you’re sure about this?” Jeff asked, talking to the paper instead of looking him in the eye. “About staying.”

“I’m scared shitless,” Gray confessed. “She doesn’t need me.”

“Shelby didn’t need you either. What’s the difference?”

Gray stared at his shoes. His feet looked weird in dress shoes in the middle of a workday. “I didn’t need Shelby.”

“Have you seen her lately?” Jeff asked. “Amanda was asking about her.”

“What do you mean? Shelby’s in Chicago.”

“No, she’s not. Bob’s three agents down, four if you count me, and he’s—”

“Back up,” Gray said, confusion and dread balling together in his brain. “Since when?”

“A few months, I think. Bob was willing to let her have an extended leave after everything she’d been through with you.”

“She went to Seattle on a case,” Gray said, trying to sort his thoughts.

“No, she didn’t.” Jeff put his file aside.

“She made me come to Boise for dinner,” Gray persisted with the story. It had to be true. He couldn’t have missed
that
. “She told me she was going home.”

Jeff stood, frowning. “She’s never come back to Chicago.”

Oily coffee churned in Gray’s stomach. “C’mon. She’s persistent, but she’s not violent.”

Still, he’d told Shelby he was married, and someone had thrown rocks through Maggie’s windows. He’d rebuffed Shelby, and Maggie’s brakes had gone out. He’d blocked Shelby’s calls and Maggie had been the target of a sniper.

But he’d been at dinner with Shelby when Maggie had run out of gas.

The night Carl had conveniently been behind her. The night she’d been blind with jealousy over Amber.

His heart pounding, his fingers shaking, he dialed the phone.

“Hi.” The sound of Maggie’s smile broke his heart. “I was just—”

“Why did you think I was seeing Amber?”

“What? Graham, I know better. I was just hurt.”

“Why, Badger? You were already upset before you saw the lipstick. What made you think of her?”

She sighed. “Her perfume. I’d smelled her perfume in the courthouse that day, and then I smelled it on you. But so many people wear—”

His knees buckled as he focused on Jeff’s wide eyes and nodded. “Was there someone else in the room with her? Another woman?”

“Well, yeah. Kate was there. And someone new.”

“What was her name? Think, Maggie. What was it?”

“Elaine something.”

Shelby’s middle name was Elaine.
Oh God, it couldn’t be
. But his gut told him differently.

A bell jangled in the background. “I have to go. Carl’s here.”

“Maggie—”

The line was already dead.