Task Force Bride (16 page)

Pike collapsed on top of her and, for a moment, Hope hugged him tight around the neck, sensing that his weight and scent and the slick heat between them were the only things that could ease the sharp sensations still firing inside her. But then Pike pushed himself up, gave her a quick kiss and plopped down onto the bed beside her. He was struggling to even out his breathing, too, as he reached for her hand. “Thank you, Hope. Thank you for letting me be your first.”

A few minutes later, after Pike had excused himself to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and come back with a washcloth to clean them both, Hope was still lying in the same spot on the bed. Her thoughts were floaty and the air in the room was cooling her skin. “I’m completely spent. And so relaxed. Is that normal?”

Pike laughed in the darkness and climbed back into the bed. He gathered her into his arms and pulled the cover up over them both. “That just means we did it right.”

Feeling content, weary, alive and safer than she’d ever been, Hope turned her cheek into Pike’s shoulder and let her eyes drift shut. There was no pretend about her feelings for Pike. This was a man she could trust. This was a man she could love.

And she did.

But the feelings were too new, too unfamiliar for her to put into words. She could barely make sense in her own head how she could, in the span of a week, lower the emotional barriers that had guarded her through so much of her life. For now, she would simply be grateful that he was kind and she was safe.

With her hand resting against the steady beat of Pike’s heart, Hope fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

* * *

S
EVERAL
HOURS
LATER
, revived by the most solid sleep he’d had in a week, Pike awoke to the brightness of the streetlamp outside the frilly curtains at the window. He slipped on his jeans for a quick check around the apartment, verifying that everything was locked and secure. He went to the front window and saluted the thumbs-up from his brother Alex on the roof across the street. He exchanged some words and licks from Hans before letting the dog settle back onto his favorite rug and returned to Hope’s bedroom.

He stood in the doorway, inhaling deeply as he watched her sleep. Her hair fanned like a glorious silky mane across her pillow and the exposed curve of one beautiful breast. The cool air in the room smelled of vanilla and sex, stirring something possessive and provocative inside him.

He’d had no idea when he was stuck with this assignment a week ago that things would get personal, complicated. He wasn’t a complicated kind of guy. He’d had sex before, but not like this. He’d tried relationships before, but never with anyone with so many layers and secrets and hang-ups and curiosity and courage as Hope. He’d dated prettier women, more experienced women, women who actually talked to him the first time they’d met.

But he couldn’t remember any woman getting under his skin and getting inside his head the way Hope Lockhart did.

“So what are you going to do about it, Taylor?” he whispered into the shadows.

This was supposed to be a job. He had a mission to complete. The safety of his beat, maybe of the entire city, rested on his shoulders. If he was smart, he’d grab his gun and badge, take a cold shower, brew a pot of coffee and sit up with the dog in the living room, keeping watch.

Instead, he unsnapped his jeans and dropped them on the floor before crawling under the covers with Hope again.

She stirred when he brushed that decadent fall of hair away from her porcelain skin. Those big lake-gray eyes opened like shadowy pools in the darkness and she reached for him. “Hey. I was thinking...”

“Uh-oh.” He shouldn’t get this kind of rush watching a blush stain her cheeks and creep down her neck. He shouldn’t be this curious to see just how far down that blush could go. “What is it?”

“I know that some people do it more than once. Could we? I may never get this chance again.”

The tips of those lush breasts were already teasing pebbles against his chest, waking his body. “I doubt that, honey.”

“Please?” She was doing that ticklish thing with her toes again. “If you have another condom, that is. If you want.”

Yeah. He wanted.

It was swifter, needier, this time as he pulled Hope on top of him and taught her a couple of new things about making love. He made it as good as he knew how, driving her to the edge of her release as she took him right to the brink with her.

And when he drove himself home inside her, pouring out the essence of everything in him, Pike knew something had changed. Terribly. Irrevocably.

This woman wasn’t just his to protect.

She was his.

Chapter Eleven

Pike felt a sudden chill when Hope rolled away, taking her sweet warmth and half the covers with her.

“Is that your phone or mine?” she asked.

His.

Hope turned on the lamp beside her and tried to find her glasses and cell while he pulled his jeans down from the bedpost. He didn’t need glasses, the lamp or the dusky, predawn twilight to see his phone screen flashing like an alert, or to have a bad feeling about why anyone would call at this hour.

He pushed the talk button and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, slipping into his shorts and jeans as soon as he read Alex’s name on the screen. “What is it?”

He had a very bad feeling before his brother even spoke.

“Just spotted a white van with a silver bumper half a mile north of your position,” Alex reported. “It’s headed this way. Do you want me to intercept it?”

This was it. He was here. The Rose Red Rapist was coming for Hope.

And Pike was damn well going to put a stop to that man’s reign of terror over the city. And her.

“Negative,” Pike answered, grabbing his shirt. “Call Montgomery and give him a sit-rep.”

“You need me to call in backup? SWAT Two is on duty. The team could be here in ten minutes.”

“Pike?”

He threaded his holster onto the belt of his jeans and hurried to the window, barely hearing the soft whisper from across the bed. Alex’s SWAT training and gear gave him a tactical advantage Pike couldn’t match. But he parted the curtains and peeked through the blinds anyway, hoping to glimpse a target where he could focus the red alert pumping through his blood.

But beyond a few parked cars, traffic was almost nonexistent. Their unsub would see the cops coming and disappear back to one of the nearby thoroughfares or the interstate. “Negative. Too big a presence will scare this guy away. Besides, this is our bust. We’ve been working too damn long and hard on this case. We’ll take him down.”

“Understood, little bro.” Despite the nickname, Alex was all special weapons and tactics right now. “I’ll maintain my position and give you an update if he changes course. Good luck, Pike.”

“Thanks for having my back, Alex.”

“Roger that. Taylor out.”

Pike tucked the phone into the front pocket of his jeans and dropped to the bed to put on his socks and boots. Half a mile away? Maybe two or three stoplights to catch him between here and there? If he was lucky. Pike had a matter of minutes—seconds, maybe—to gear up and get into position to catch this guy. He quickly tied the second boot and stood.

“Is it him?” Hope had pulled the quilt with her off the bed and wrapped herself in it to bar his path out the bedroom door. He’d already seen the lush beauty of her full figure, and had caressed every one of her scars, so he doubted it was modesty that made her cover up. She was afraid. Shutting down. Hiding herself from the world that had done her such harm again.

He needed to say something. He needed to tell her that she meant something to him and that last night was hot and that maybe, one day, when life was sane and safe for them again, they could...what? What was he going to do? What did he want to do about Hope?

“I gotta go.” Seriously? That was the best he could come up with?

That knot of consternation dented the skin above her glasses. “Okay.”

Frustrated by his inability to say the right thing at the right time, and feeling the clock ticking down as the van approached, Pike snaked his hand behind her neck and pulled her up onto her toes, planting a hard kiss on her soft mouth before setting her aside and darting into the hallway.

“You’re a fighter,” he called out over his shoulder. “Remember that. Hans!
Hier!
”

He grabbed his keys, his flak vest and the leash as the big dog bounded to his side. Pike suited up, before putting the harness and badge on Hans. Hope had followed him out, still clutching the quilt to her breasts and bottom, still looking at him with the fear and questions in her eyes.

Say something.

The phone vibrated against his thigh. His brother was calling again. The mark must be close now. “I need you to lock the doors behind me. Stay put. I’ll be back.”

Then he and Hans were out the door and running down the stairs. He opened his truck and put the dog inside as he took Alex’s call. “What’s up?”

“The van’s stopped at the light at the top of the street. He’ll go past you in about thirty seconds.” Pike started the engine and pulled the truck up to the edge of the parking lot entrance, leaving his lights off to stay hidden until the last possible moment. “I’m ready.”

“Montgomery was at HQ. He’s on his way. Fensom’s already en route.” The tenor of Alex’s voice changed to that of a soldier, ready for battle. “Light’s changing. I’m on my way down to back you up.”

Pike felt the same cagey readiness running through his veins. “Roger that. Taylor out.”

Phone in pocket. Breathe deeply. Grip wheel.

“And here...we...”

Go!

As expected, the boxy white van slowed in front of Hope’s shop. But the driver must have spotted Pike’s truck, even in the shadows. With a squeal of rubber clawing to find traction on the pavement, the van driver pushed his lights up to bright, momentarily blinding Pike, and floored it.

Since he’d been made, Pike flipped on his own lights and the siren and pulled out onto the street as the van sped past. The truck bounced over the curb and picked up speed to gain ground on the van. With the T-intersection at the south end of the block, the unsub was going to have to either slow down or fly around a corner and risk rolling the van. Either way, Pike intended to stop him.

Thankfully, there was little traffic, but the driver was already pushing his luck, fishtailing into the side of one parked car as he veered into the opposite lane to try to make a wider turn. Pike pushed the accelerator closer to the floor and held on tighter. The guy whipped back into his lane and bounced off another car, shooting up sparks as metal scraped against metal.

Pike saw a couple turning the corner on the sidewalk up ahead. Their looks of panic were unmistakable as they jumped back toward the shelter of the nearest building. Another car screeched to a stop and shifted into Reverse, backing out of the intersection as the two vehicles raced toward it.

“Slow down!”

Pike’s engine roared with power. His siren screamed in his ears, but he could still make out other sirens in the distance. Too far in the distance. And Alex was at least half a block behind him.

“We’ve got to stop him, Hansie.” The dog was panting in rhythm with the charged adrenaline pumping Pike’s heart. “It’s you and me.”

He quickly glanced ahead. Nobody knew this part of town the way he did. He knew every citizen, every corner, every curb. Coffee shop on the left. Dance bar on the right. Yarn shop straight ahead. They were all closed for the night, but owners lived in the apartments above them. Security guards sat in offices and patrolled their buildings. A couple of homeless guys liked the alley off to the east when the night wasn’t too cold. If traffic was clear, that left the abandoned warehouse around the corner to the west that hadn’t been reclaimed yet.

Target acquired.

He called in the location, updating the chase to Dispatch, alerting traffic cops to clear the streets, telling his task force teammates where they could finally get their man. He reported his intent and hung up the radio.

Pressing the accelerator down to the floor, Pike raced up behind the van, targeting the left side of that shiny steel bumper. Closer. Closer.

The van’s brake lights flashed. “Gotcha.”

Pike rammed the truck’s front end into the rusting taillight of the van and sent it skidding around the corner. With a big white target and a clear sidewalk in front of him, Pike T-boned the van. It jumped the curb and Pike hit his brakes, letting the truck’s momentum shove the van straight into the crumbling brick facade of the abandoned building.

His seat belt caught and held as the truck’s front end crumpled and the windshield cracked. Hans woofed in protest at the wild ride and abrupt stop.

But they were both okay, and the damn van wasn’t going anywhere. One rear wheel was shredded and one in the front wasn’t even touching the ground.

“Hans,
bleib!
” Pike reassured the dog of the need to stay put, unhooked his seat belt and climbed out of the steaming truck.

He drew his Glock as he ran to the front of the van. “KCPD! Take your hands off the wheel!” He opened the folding door and charged up the steps, his gun pointed straight at the driver’s head. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? You run my girl off the road—I run you...”

The adrenaline short-circuited into confusion. Gray hair. Prison tats. This wasn’t right.

“Officer Taylor.” Hank Lockhart massaged his shoulder and ran his tongue along the lip he’d split open, having smacked one or both on the bloodied side window.

Pike glanced into the back of the van. Empty. Spotlessly clean. And there were no other seats inside. This didn’t make sense. Where...?

The gray eyes might be bleary with pain or booze, but the old coot was laughing.

The amused, malevolent sound galvanized Pike and he leveled his gun at the ruddy target of the bastard’s nose. Questions could be answered later. “Hands up, Lockhart.”

There were lights flashing in the corner of his vision now. Help had arrived. Not that he’d need it to take this lousy excuse for a man down. As soon as Lockhart’s hands settled on top of his head, Pike holstered his weapon and pulled out his handcuffs. He slapped one end around Lockhart’s wrists and reached for the other hand.

“Ow, man.” Lockhart swore as Pike jerked his injured arm behind him and locked the other cuff around his wrist. “I really took a shot to my shoulder.”

“And your daughter took on a pair of starving dogs because of you. I don’t hear her complaining.” Cars were stopping, and guns and detectives were charging forward as Pike dragged him out and shoved his face into the side of the van. Pike kicked the old man’s legs apart and searched him, pulling out a pocketknife, a wallet and a thick long envelope. He ripped it open and found a stack of hundred-dollar bills inside. “Where’d you get this?”

The old man turned his head with a smug grin. “I’m gettin’ my money out of that girl one way or the other.”

Pike braced his forearm behind Lockhart’s neck and shoved him back against the van. “What are you talking about?”

“Taylor!” Spencer Montgomery holstered his weapon as he jogged up. With a nod, his partner, Nick Fensom, jumped inside the van to give it the same once-over Pike had done. He took the cash and knife Pike handed him. “Is this our guy?”

Pike stepped back, shaking his head as the senior detective spun the culprit to face him. “This is Hank...Henry Lockhart Sr.”

“Hope’s father?”

Nick jumped down from the van’s steps and holstered his weapon. “My grandmother doesn’t keep her bathroom as spotless as that van. The whole thing reeks of disinfectant.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Annie to bring her kit. Whatever was back there has been cleaned within an inch of its life.” He nodded to the gray-haired man in handcuffs. “Who’s this douche?”

“Our eyewitness’s father.” Montgomery pulled his cell phone from his suit jacket and pulled up a picture. “The van matches Hope’s description. But he’s not our guy. She’d have recognized her own father, wouldn’t she? Even with a mask?”

Pike glanced behind him, taking in the skid marks and wreckage, unmarked vehicles and black-and-whites with flashing lights blocking off the three-way intersection. This was one hell of a show for downtown Kansas City at five in the morning.

One hell of a distraction.

Suspicion lit a fuse inside him. “Run his priors,” he advised the senior detective. He walked out past the back of his truck, gazing as far up the street as the streetlamps and strobe effect of the flashing lights would let him. What was out of place? What was missing? “Lockhart did time in Jeff City. I’m sure he was incarcerated for at least some of the Rose Red Rapist assaults.”

His brother Alex walked up with Nelda Sapphire in handcuffs. “This one was following you in a compact heap of junk. Didn’t think much of it until you did your fancy driving. Once you crashed, she pulled off in an alley and started running the other direction.”

“Not a word, Nelda,” Hank warned.

“Shut up.” Pike and Detective Montgomery both had the same idea.

“Probably his getaway,” Pike guessed, rejoining the others. If this was their unsub’s van, the one Hope had identified, there were only a couple of reasons why Hank would be driving it. And the coincidence that he’d stolen this particular van wasn’t very likely. “Drive the van someplace and drop it off, then she picks him up.”

“This isn’t your guy?” Alex asked.

No. But he could lead them to him.

“Tell me about the money, Hank.” Pike resisted the urge to drive his fist into that split lip and opted for a threat Hope’s opportunistic father might answer to. “We’ve already got you on speeding, reckless driving, assault, attempted assault—”

“What? I never.”

“—and accessory to rape and murder. How much time do you want to spend with your old friends in lockup?”

“Tell him, Hank,” Nelda urged. Mascara ran down her face as she cried. “Or I will.”

Surrounded by two armed detectives, a cop in full SWAT gear and an angry Pike who used every inch of his six feet four inches of height to back the coward against the van, Hank finally muttered something useful. “Some guy paid me five thousand to drive his van past Hope’s shop.”

“Some guy? What guy?”

“I don’t know.” The guy looked smaller and meaner, backed into a corner like this. But he knew he had no place to go. “He found Nelda and me sleeping in her car last night. Black pants and a jacket was all I could see in the side mirror. Came at us from behind and knocked on the window. Said he saw me hanging around Hope’s shop a couple of times. Told me not to turn around and look at his face, and for that kind of money, I didn’t.”

Decoy.

“Hope.” Pike ran to his truck.