The Drowning Man (14 page)

“Sorry. I can’t seem to find my other shoe.”

Trent rolled over towards his bedside table and flipped on the lamp.

“Got it,” Lora said. She pulled her shirt over her head and shoved her foot in the shoe. “I gotta run.”

Trent smiled, enjoying seeing her all nervous and flustered, her hair rumpled from sleep.

She smiled awkwardly. “Thank you for last night.”

“Anytime.”

Lora shot him a playful glare on her way to the door.

“Wait. Let me take you to dinner. You and your partner. For what you did.”

Lora turned back towards the bed. “Trent, you don't need to do that.”

“I want to. I need to.”

“I'll run it by him. Now I really do have to go or I'm going to be late.”

As soon as she left Trent burrowed back under the covers, breathing in the subtle scent of her that still lingered in the sheets, and thinking he could stay right where he was for hours. At least he had the day off so there was no hurry to get out of bed. He lay back, lacing his fingers behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling, picturing Lora's face.

Who would've thought? He never would have imagined he'd be spending time with the woman who'd pulled him out of the pit of hell. And he hadn't even thought about those two months the entire time they were together.

Well, okay, that wasn't entirely true, not a day went by that he didn't think about it, but the images had been brief and fleeting when he was with her. He'd been able to put them in the back of his mind and keep them there. That was progress.

Time and distance healed everything, that was what his brother told him. He figured quality time with a beautiful woman couldn't hurt either, even if she was a cop. With her, he didn't have to explain what he was going through. She'd been there, she understood.

He sighed and closed his eyes again. For once, he felt extremely lazy.

And happy.

He’d almost forgotten what that was like.

Lora had just enough time to run home and shower before heading to the station. She smiled, her body still feeling the effects of the night before. She felt unburdened. Light. Though there were still parts of that day she would never tell Trent. How she and the officer who was killed had just started dating. How she'd given him CPR until backup arrived though she knew he was dead. How she went home the night she was released from the hospital and sat under the scalding spray of the shower until the hot water ran out. How she didn’t sleep for a week. How she’d thought about taking her life. More than once. Those lovely details she’d keep to herself.

Forty minutes later, she sat down at her desk, cup of coffee in hand.

“I knew it,” Woods said, between chuckles.

Lora raised her eyebrows. “What’s that?” she asked.

“You and the Drowning Man.”

“Don’t call him that,” she hissed.

“Come on, Tate, no need to get defensive. It's no big deal. It's just sex.”

He knew her too well. Lora felt her cheeks heat, knew her blush was all the confirmation he needed.

“It's about damned time you found someone and Trent Barlow seems to be a man worthy of you. But I know when to stop.” He grinned. “For now. So you ready to work or what?”

Lora settled down into her chair, glared at him, and grabbed the top folder in her tray.

“Who drank the last cup and didn't make a fresh pot? Is it so damned hard to do that?” Lora asked no one in particular, six hours later. She fought the urge to fling her empty mug against the wall. She was so on edge she didn’t need more caffeine, but once it was in her system it was strangely comforting.

She’d just had incredible sex. She’d met a man who cared about her enough to make her spill her darkest, dirtiest secrets and still wanted to be with her. So why was she so damned irritable?

Her fingers clenched into fists as she waited impatiently for the pot to give its final gurgle as the last drop of water ran though. She didn't get close to people. She sure as hell didn't have sex with men she didn't know. Even if the sex
was
mind blowing. Oh God, this was going to be a problem.

She plopped back down into her chair, a few drops from her too full mug sloshing out onto her desk. She waited until her partner looked up. “Trent wants to take us to dinner. At Luc's.”

Woods whistled. “Fancy,” he said.

“Don’t read too much into it, okay? He just wants to thank us.”

An hour before Trent was to pick Lora up for their dinner with Woods, she stood naked in her bedroom and inventoried her underwear. Plenty of practical cotton bras and panties, assorted sports bras, a few pairs of panty hose that hadn’t been worn in a very long time. Nothing even remotely sexy. No silky lingerie. No black lace. She usually slept in a t-shirt or tank with lounge pants or boxers. Over thirty years old and not one single negligee or lacy bra. Pathetic.

She stood in front of the mirror twenty minutes later in a dress that hugged her curves, her one pair of heels, and a light application of makeup, thinking she didn’t look half-bad. She took one last look, pushed the hair back from her face, and went to the living room to wait for Trent.

She heard his footsteps in the hall approaching her condo and had the door opened before he could knock.

“I'm not used to wearing a suit.” Trent stood in the middle of her living room looking at her with his hands on his hips, just inside his jacket.

Lora took in his muscular shoulders and lean waist, thinking she'd never in her life seen a man fill out a suit better than he did. She swallowed hard, feeling a surge of warmth and yearning in her lower belly. A foreign sensation she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. “Now that's a damned shame.”

Trent grinned, causing another flip-flop in her stomach. Then his eyes traveled up and down the length of her body. When they stopped, there was no mistaking the look of hunger she saw there.

“You look amazing,” he said.

She picked up her purse. “We better go, we don’t want to miss our reservation.”

“Or,” Trent said, raising his eyebrows. “We could be fashionably late.”

Lora shook her head, and shot him a playful glance on her way out the door. “Patience,” she said.

Trent looked up and groaned, but followed her out the door.

Woods had to do a double take when he saw them walk in. He hadn't seen Trent Barlow since the night he'd taken an axe to his bathtub and he looked nothing like the broken man he'd been then. He looked fit and happy. He also looked very much smitten with Lora. He had a hand low on her back, leading her forward. And as for his partner … Woods couldn't ever remember seeing Lora look more radiant. Instead of her standard pantsuits or slacks and a dress shirt, she wore a black wrap dress with high heels. Her hair was loose and flowing.

“You look like a woman,” he said, standing up.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Damn, Tate. Is that lipstick?” he asked, giving her face a closer inspection.

Trent reached out to shake his hand before Lora had a chance to make a comeback jab. “Thanks for everything you did. Sorry you had to get shot coming to my rescue.”

“He's just moving slow in his old age,” Lora said, stepping forward to give her partner a hug.

“Gave me an excuse for the wife and kids to wait on me.”

“How many kids do you have?” Trent asked, pulling Lora's chair out for her.

“Two boys and two girls.”

“Wow. Between that and having to deal with Lora all day, I don't know how you do it.”

“Yeah, she's like my fifth kid.” The grin spreading across his face showed he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“All right, you two,” Lora said and picked up a menu. “Enough.”

It was nice seeing the feminine side of his partner, Woods thought as the waiter cleared away their plates. She was so much like one of the guys and tougher than most of them. But she constantly downplayed her beauty. He understood her reasoning, but it was still nice to see her embrace the beautiful woman she was.

It was also good to see that Barlow wasn't suffering any obvious ill effects from his capture. How much of that was due to Lora? Of course, there was also a clear change in her when she was around the guy. Then there was the way she and Barlow seemed to be attuned to each other. The body language, the subtle looks throughout dinner. In their line of work, you learned to be good at reading people. He gave them about a 50/50 chance of making it to the bedroom before ripping each other's clothes off. He took a drink to hide his smile. He wanted Lora to be happy and from what he could see, the two of them would be good for each other. God knows, if anyone deserved to be happy, it was those two.

Trent stood inside Lora's front door and looked around. He'd been so focused on Lora when he'd picked her up for dinner, he hadn't paid any attention to the space she lived in. Now, he was looking forward to exploring the place she lived as well as her body.

The inside of her condo was huge and open with exposed brick and timber walls, tall ceilings, and a polished concrete floor. There were rows of windows and an outside terrace that ran the length of the condo.

“Pretty fancy for a cop,” he said.

“My parents bought it for me.” She paused. “They're dead,” she added quietly.

Trent didn't ask any more questions. The darkening of her gaze told him the subject was clearly off limits. At least for now. Another mystery about her to solve.

He walked around the kitchen, which looked like it got about as much use as his did. He moved back to the living room and stood, looking out at the Missouri River. Looking down at the distant rushing water suddenly made him feel dizzy. He turned away from the windows.

Her bedroom would be a good distraction. The room was simply furnished with a high queen sized bed covered in a fluffy white comforter. He peeked into the master bath with its tan marble countertops, the plush white carpet, the huge round jetted corner tub. He shuddered and loosened his tie. He backed out of the room, nearly knocking Lora over in his haste to get out of the room.

“I could give you a bath,” she said softly.

“A bath?” he said as he took another step farther into the safety of her bedroom. “I don't think so.”

She cocked her head and smiled seductively. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” she said as she pushed the dress off her shoulders and it dropped to the floor.

Trent stopped moving. If ever there was anything that was going to get him over his fear of water, this was it. He closed his eyes and took her hand. “Okay.”

He focused his gaze on her ass as she bent over to start the water. She turned and slowly took her bra and underwear off, her eyes holding his the entire time, then sat on the edge of the tub and crossed her legs. “Your turn,” she said.

The sound of the rising water drew his eyes to the bathtub. He swallowed hard, pulled off his tie, shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, then stepped out of his pants. His heart rate rose with the level of the water. He inhaled and focused on the rise and fall of her breasts.

Lora turned off the water and reached for his hand. “It's okay,” she said softly.

He looked into her eyes as he stepped slowly into the warm water, and eased himself down to a sitting position. He wanted nothing more than to bolt up and jump out of the damned water but the thought of her seeing his weakness was just enough motivation for him to stay put. That and his unrelenting desire to be inside her.

Lora got into the tub behind him and slid down into the water. Her heart contracted at the sight of Trent’s powerful body shuddering ever so slightly. She wrapped her arms around him, caressing the muscles of his arms and chest. Finally, she felt his body start to relax and his head leaned back against her shoulder. She moved her hand down lower, heard him groan with pleasure, and smiled.

Trent surveyed the immense building as their fire truck came to a stop in front of what had once been a carpet warehouse. The fire was out thanks to the 82nd Company, but the damage was extensive. Now it was Trent’s company’s turn. It had been a bad one and 82nd had called in reinforcements. Luckily, the blaze had started about three in the morning, so it wouldn't be a search and rescue, just a mop up.

They geared up and waited while Chief Culmer got the update from the on scene officer in charge. Minutes later, he approached them, shaking his head.

“Not a simple explosion, boys. It would appear that the warehouse you see in front of you was selling something a bit more illegal than carpet.”

“Meaning?” Ted asked.

“Meaning,” the chief continued, “that if you go in there without your mask on you'll be higher than you've been since college. Then there's the charred body they recovered with a bullet hole in his head. So let's get this done quickly so the cops can do their job.”

Burt nodded towards the cops gathered around, impatient, watching them, shifting from one foot to the other, wanting to get to work on the scene, to do their job “Boys' lets get in and out as quickly as possible.”

Despite all that, it was still just a simple mop up for them– making sure the structure was in the safest possible condition after the fire and verifying the fire had no hidden hot spots that need to be extinguished in the burned area. Not one of Trent’s favorite parts of the job, but necessary nonetheless.

It was almost as hard as the initial fire control.

Forty minutes later, they exited the building, exhausted. Trent removed his breathing mask, then took off his helmet and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. When he opened his eyes again he saw her. Lora. Their eyes met across the chaos. He winked and she gave him a tight smile before turning away.

“What is that?” Ted asked, coming up beside him on their way back to the truck.

Trent looked up but didn’t quite meet Ted’s eyes. “What?”

“You and the cop.”

“There's 20 cops out here,” Trent said, scanning the scene.

“Don't give me that shit, Barlow, you know who the fuck I’m talking about.”

Trent turned to face him, hands on his hips, a warning look flashing in his eyes.