Solid as Steele (7 page)

She cleared her throat. “I went back through several months of the local papers and found out something else that might fit into the investigation.”

When he didn't speak, she went on. “There aren't a lot of murders here, but there was another one a few months ago.”

That had him sitting up straighter. “Another woman?”

“No. This was a man. Named Tim Conrad.”

“Not necessarily connected.”

“But his body was found in the same area where Jeanette and Lynn were dumped.”

“Cause of death?”

“I wasn't able to find out.”

“Maybe I can get it from the police report.”

She glanced at his computer. “You have access to that?”

“Maybe. Did you find out Conrad's occupation?”

“Auto mechanic.”

“Okay, let's recap the victims. We have an emergency room nurse, a social worker and an auto mechanic. I wonder what the link is, if any. I guess we can find out if he went to Emmanuel Parish.”

“You can do that, too?”

“That one's easy.”

He opened the computer, waited for it to resume and checked the church membership list. Tim Conrad wasn't on the roster. Neither was anyone else named Conrad.

“Anything else you can tell me that might connect the three of them?”

“No.”

“Maybe if you think about it for a while.”

“I have been thinking about it, and there's absolutely nothing more I can tell you.”

“You didn't know Conrad?”

“No!” Her voice rose. “And I only knew one of the women.” She sat where she was for a few more seconds, gripping the arm of the sofa, then jumped up.

“I need to get out of here.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Too damn bad. I'm not used to being with anyone for hours on end.”

He might have said she spent a lot of time with Sabrina Cassidy at the Light Street Lobby Shop, but he didn't want to say anything to upset her more.

Without looking at him, she strode across the sitting room, pulled open the door and slammed it behind her as she stepped out.

He stared at the door, thinking he shouldn't have pressed her to find a link between the victims. Obviously she was more uncomfortable than he'd thought.

But he couldn't let her go out by herself, not when someone had already tried to run her over.

He made it into the hall in time to see the elevator door close. Damn! It must have been already there when she arrived, and all she had to do was press the button to open the doors.

They were on the fourth floor. Still cursing, he sprinted to the steps, hurtling down and arriving in the lobby as Jamie walked outside.

Before he could follow her, a bellman came in pushing
a cart, blocking Mack's view. When he reached the door, he couldn't see Jamie. Which way had she gone?

He didn't have a clue.

 

J
AMIE HURRIED DOWN THE
narrow sidewalk at the edge of the parking lot. There wasn't much place to walk, and she thought maybe she should go back before she got run over. But she wasn't in the mood to go back. Not yet.

She'd thought she could handle the situation with Mack. She'd been okay at the library and in the coffee shop. But in the hotel room, it had suddenly gotten to be too much for her, partly because of Mack's relentless questioning.

But mostly because there was yet another murder that could be connected to the funhouse case. At least if you considered it from the viewpoint of how the bodies had been dumped. Funhouse case…

She remembered how Craig would come home from the office sometimes and discuss his cases with her. She'd always felt he was asking for her opinion because he wanted another point of view. With Mack, however, she couldn't help feeling like he still thought she was withholding information.

She tried to switch things around and see it from his point of view. What would she think if someone started spouting details of a murder that would be impossible to know, except by psychic means—or by the murderer? She'd done that to him, and of course he'd wondered where she got the information. And if she were honest, she could tell his attitude was shifting. Like he didn't suspect her anymore.

But then why didn't he say so?

And why couldn't she just give him the benefit of the
doubt? Maybe because she felt guilty about getting close to him.

She continued walking along the narrow sidewalk, hardly aware of her surroundings. She kept turning over the details in her mind. He'd gotten them a suite so they didn't have to sleep in the same room. But he'd obviously been keeping an ear out for her, and he'd come to her room last night because she was having another nightmare. They'd ended up pretty close to making love. He was the one who'd pulled away before things went too far. She should be thanking him for that, not be putting the worst possible interpretation on everything he said or did.

She heard a car slow behind her and wondered if Mack had come down the street looking for her.

She expected him to pull up beside her and say, “Get in,” in that deep voice of his.

But it wasn't Mack's SUV that drifted up beside her, and the man who got out wasn't Mack. Not unless he was trying to scare her with the ski mask he was wearing.

Coming around the car, the man opened the passenger door and tried to shove her inside.

And she knew in that moment that if he got her into that vehicle, she was going for a one-way ride.

When she started to struggle, he yanked on her upper arm and cursed.

Stiffening her elbows, she pushed against the doorframe, keeping herself out of the front seat as he got behind her and shoved.

“Help! Somebody help!” she shouted.

“Shut up, bitch.”

When he socked her between the shoulder blades, she gasped and almost let go of the doorframe, but determination not to let herself be taken kept her fighting. He took
one hand off her and fumbled with something she couldn't see. A gun?

“Help!” she shouted again, praying that someone would come along the street.

Because she was losing the battle. Sooner or later he would get her into the vehicle.

Mack had exited the hotel and taken several steps to the left when he heard a woman shout, “Help! Somebody help me!”

The cry sounded like Jamie, and it came from behind him. On a curse, he reversed direction and started running, hearing another voice.

It was a man, shouting, “Shut up.”

His heart leaped into his throat as he scanned the parking lot. Jamie wasn't there. But he spotted her on the sidewalk, struggling with a man beside an SUV.

When he saw that the guy was trying to force her into the passenger seat, his insides clenched. She was putting up a pretty good fight, but the guy was taller and heavier, and eventually he was going to win.

Although Mack's gun was in a back holster, he couldn't risk a shot, not when the man was in close contact with Jamie.

But he'd been a pitcher on his baseball team in high school. Along the edge of the parking lot were decorative rectangles full of rounded rocks in place of flower beds. Scooping up some of the rocks, he wound up like he was on the pitcher's mound and let the first missile fly. Then he let loose with another. The rocks hit the side of the SUV next to the guy, who stopped what he was doing and
whirled to stare back at Mack. It was then that Mack saw the ski mask that effectively hid the would-be kidnapper's features.

“Get the hell off of her,” Mack shouted as he ran forward, pulling his weapon and putting on a burst of speed.

The abductor hesitated for a moment, then must have decided to cut his losses. He threw Jamie to the pavement, dashed around his vehicle and climbed back into the driver's seat. Before Mack could reach the SUV, the vehicle was already roaring away.

Mack's eyes shot to the license plate, but the guy wasn't taking any chances on being identified that way. The plate was smeared with mud, hiding the numbers and letters. About all Mack could tell was that it looked like the standard Maryland variety, not one of the fancy “Save the Bay” models.

He ran to Jamie, holstering his weapon and coming down on the ground beside her.

“Are you all right?” he asked urgently as he scanned her face and body. Her hair was messed up and she was breathing hard, but he didn't see blood anywhere.

“Yes,” she gasped out.

“What happened?”

She craned her neck to stare down the street, but the SUV was already out of sight.

“I was walking down the sidewalk, and he pulled up beside me and tried to shove me into his car.” She swallowed. “I couldn't see his face. He was wearing a ski mask.”

“Yeah. I saw. Did he try to hurt you?”

“He socked me in the back when he couldn't get me into the vehicle.”

Mack nodded. “His license plate was covered with mud.” He waited for a moment. “Can you get up?”

She kept her face away from him. “I think so.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms, but getting her inside was more important. He stood, then reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. With her head down, she kept a tight hold on his hand, and when she wavered a little, he steadied her with an arm around her waist. He might have told her that she shouldn't have gone out, but he didn't think that would do either one of them any good, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Can you walk?”

“Of course!” she answered in a sharp voice, then sighed.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you.”

“We're fine,” he answered automatically, wondering what that meant, exactly. They certainly hadn't been fine when she'd fled the hotel. And her recent brush with disaster couldn't have made things better.

As they started back toward the building, her gait quickened and steadied, but when he saw that she had her bottom lip between her teeth, he knew she was struggling to hold herself together.

They reached the lobby and people looked up the way they often did when somebody new entered the scene. Trying to ignore the stares, he kept his arm around Jamie as they waited for the elevator. Once inside, she closed her eyes, leaning her head and shoulders against the wall.

When they reached the fourth floor, she rushed down the hall. He hurried to follow, his key card in his hand so he could unlock the door and let her in.

She stopped in the hallway to the living room, keeping her head down. When he tipped her chin up, he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

“It's all right to cry,” he murmured.

“I feel like such a jerk.”

“Why?”

“I know damn well I shouldn't have gone outside when I was too upset to pay attention to my surroundings.”

He could only nod, then pull her close. She held herself stiffly for a moment, then relaxed against him, and he rocked her in his arms, silently thanking God that the guy hadn't shoved her into the car. Because he had the awful feeling that he never would have seen her again. Not alive, anyway.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.

“You were fighting him. You held him off long enough for me to get there.”

“He was trying to get something.”

“What?”

“I don't know. A gun, maybe.” She hesitated a second.

“Did you throw rocks at him?”

“Yeah, I couldn't risk a shot.”

She nodded against his shoulder and whispered,

“Clever.”

“You don't know who it was?”

“No idea.”

“Clark Landon?”

“It might have been.”

“I'm going to have a chat with him.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Don't leave me.”

“Of course not,” he answered, caught between warring emotions. He was still trying to come to grips with what had almost happened, and at the same time he was elated that she wanted him with her. Or was it just that she was afraid to be alone after two frightening incidents? First in the parking lot of the fast-food restaurant and now at the hotel?

He didn't know, couldn't ask. Yet when she raised her
face trustingly to him, he couldn't stop himself from lowering his head. The touch of his mouth to hers was like an emotional explosion that he couldn't control. And maybe it was the same for her, because her lips moved urgently under his. When she opened for him, he accepted the invitation, and his tongue played with the insides of her lips, her teeth, and then deeper.

She murmured his name, holding him more tightly, and he knew that he was on the verge of losing control. “Jamie?”

“Don't go away,” she said again.

“Never,” he whispered, his hands stroking her shoulders, down her back, up her spine, then back down again to cup her bottom. When she didn't resist, he pulled her more tightly against himself, his breath catching as he pressed her to the erection straining at the front of his jeans. He went still, waiting for her to pull away, but she stayed where she was, and he couldn't summon the will to stop.

“Jamie,” he said again, hearing the desperation in his own voice.

Last night he'd vowed not to take advantage of her when she was emotionally vulnerable. Was he doing that now? He hoped not, because he couldn't deal with the loss if he had to turn her loose.

She made small, broken sounds as he rocked her in his arms, sounds that sent the blood racing through his veins.

Still he made no move to leave the hallway until he heard her say, “Come into the bedroom.”

The invitation made his heart beat faster. And faster still when her hands began to move restlessly across his back, then down to the waistband of his jeans. With her arms around him she pulled his shirt from the back of
his pants, then slipped her hand under, pressing her palm against the naked skin of his back, sliding fingers over his warm flesh, sending shivers over his skin.

He closed his eyes, marveling at the way her touch made him feel hot and cold at the same time. And marveling at the wonderful taste of her as she continued to kiss him.

When he realized they were still standing in the hallway, he knit his fingers with hers and led her into the bedroom, moving slowly, still giving her the chance to stop if she changed her mind. He wanted her badly, but he would hold back if it wasn't right for her.

They stepped into the bedroom together, and he turned to kiss her again, silently admitting his greed.

As she had done a few moments earlier, he pulled her shirt out of her waistband and slipped his hands underneath, reveling in the way the silky skin of her back felt under his trembling fingers. Unable to deny himself, he brought his mouth back to hers for frantic kisses that left him breathless.

Her hands were at the front of his shirt now, undoing the buttons, then pushing the sides apart so that she could slide her hands over his chest. He sighed as her fingers tangled in his thick hair, then found his nipples and flicked back and forth across them.

It seemed like a miracle that she was in his arms, touching him so intimately. Maybe later they would have second thoughts, but at this moment there was no room for doubt between them.

Stepping away from her, he drew the drapes across the window, then turned on the bathroom light and closed the door most of the way so that there was enough illumination to see her but not too much to break the spell.

He was dizzy with desire for her. Desperate to feel her breasts against his chest, he yanked his arms out of his
sleeves and tossed the shirt on the floor. Then he worked the buttons of her shirt, sliding it off her shoulders. Before he could stop himself, he reached around her and unhooked her bra, pulled it away from her and dropped it on the floor, along with the shirt.

“Lord, you are so beautiful,” he whispered as his gaze swept over her gentle curves. Unable to hold back, he gathered her into his arms, a sound of gratitude rising in his throat as he absorbed the feel of her against himself.

It was difficult to draw in a full breath, difficult to keep his balance as he swayed her in his arms so that her breasts moved back and forth against his body.

She moaned as her nipples slid against the rough hair on his chest.

He fumbled with the snap at the top of her jeans, opening it and lowering the zipper so that he could drag the pants down her legs along with her panties. She kicked them away and stood naked in his arms.

It felt wonderful to slide his hands over the curve of her bottom, her hips, the indentation at her waist, all the places he'd longed to touch. Imagined touching.

Easing a little away, he managed to get his belt buckle undone, then his zipper. But he kept his briefs on as he kicked his jeans away.

He had imagined this so many times. Yet the reality was so much better than any daydream, and he marveled at the intensity of what he felt now.

Turning to the side, he bent to pull the covers back, then brought her down to the bed with him, rolling to his side, holding her in his arms.

His gaze on her face, he cupped her breasts, shaping them to his touch, then played his thumbs over her distended nipples.

She closed her eyes, her breath catching as he bent to
take one hard peak into his mouth, drawing on her as he used his thumb and finger on the other side.

“Oh, Mack,” she cried out.

Gratified by her response, he slid one hand down her body, into her hot, moist folds. He had never needed a woman more, yet he wasn't going to rush this. Not when he sensed the moment was so important.

He touched her and kissed her, tasted her, lifting his head to watch her face and judge her readiness as he continued to stroke her most intimate flesh.

He saw passion color her features, felt her hips lift restlessly against his fingers.

“Look at me,” he asked as he pulled off his briefs, then moved over her, parting her legs with his knee.

Her eyes met his, and everything inside him clenched.

When his body sank into hers, he felt as though it was a homecoming.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her, overcome with emotions he couldn't name as he began to move inside her. He had wanted her for a long time, and finally she was his.

She threw back her head on the pillow while she matched his rhythm. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she climbed toward orgasm with him. Summoning every ounce of self-control he possessed, he held himself back, waiting for her to reach the peak of her pleasure. When he felt her body start to contract around him, he let go, crying out as climax rocketed through him.

As the storm passed, he looked down at her. For a moment, he saw a look of wonder in her eyes, and he thought that she was finally ready to admit that they belonged together. Then she must have realized she was with
Mack Steele. As she stared at him, she took her lower lip between her teeth.

“Jamie?”

When she didn't answer, he shifted his weight off of her, coming down beside her on the bed.

“We shouldn't have done that,” she whispered.

“Don't tell me it was wrong,” he managed to say around the lump that had formed in his throat.

“It was.”

“Give me a good reason why.”

She didn't answer, and he wondered if she could come up with anything logical or if she was just clinging to old assumptions.

Fumbling for her hand, he clasped his fingers with hers. Was there anything he could say to convince her that she was a free woman? That the two of them were right for each other, and no memory of the past should come between them?

When she started to move away, he held on to her.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

“Why?”

It was hard to get the words out, but he managed to say, “Because making love with you was the best thing that's happened to me in a long time, and I don't want you to tell me it was wrong.”

“It was.”

“No. And I'd like a chance to prove that to you.”

“How?”

He wanted to say that he'd make love with her all over again, and it would be just as good. But great sex wasn't the answer to his problem. He wanted the two of them to merge their lives. He wanted her to realize how amazing they were together. Not just in bed.