True Vision (15 page)

She shrugged and sipped her drink. “According to George.”

Noah leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Did George mention what would happen after the bar?”

She shivered, unable to resist the urge to shift back from him.

He raised his head to look into her eyes. “Oops, I invaded your space. Funny, because I would think
this
would be invading your space.” He casually trailed his index finger over her forearm, the touch featherlight and startling.

She returned to herself, her head still spinning from the surge of his sorrow and rage, to find Noah looking at her expectantly, waiting for a response. Guilt billowed up inside her. He was right. It shouldn’t have been Laurette. It should have been her.

He cocked his head. “What?”

She looked down at his hand, saw his bruised knuckles. Why couldn’t her superpower be the ability to turn back time? She’d go back and change places with Laurette, make things the way they should have been, the way that would spare this man so much grief and pain.

She raised her gaze to his. “I’m sorry about Laurette. You really loved her.”

His head jerked back, and he slid back a few inches on the bar stool, putting some extra space between them. “Well, I missed the segue on that one.”

“How long did you know her?”

He began to pick at the label on his beer, the teasing in his demeanor fading away. “About a year. She told me a while back that her mother is sick. Cancer.”

Charlie set down her drink a little harder than she’d intended. Oh, God. “That’s why she came to Lake Avalon?”

“She wanted to reunite your mothers before her own died.”

No good deed goes unpunished. F-ing universe. “I know it sounds cold, but it’s probably best that they don’t see each other again. My mother has spent her life denying who she is. I don’t imagine she’ll be willing to let go of that very easily.”

“Isn’t that a decision that she should make?”

If he’d been talking about anyone else’s mother, she would have agreed. But this was Elise Trudeau, the glacier of Southwest Florida. Not just frozen but layered with years of grit.

Noah cleared his throat. “Look, I know this isn’t easy for you, but a good friend of mine died while trying to do this thing for her mother, this thing that was important to her. It would mean a lot to me if we could somehow get it done. For Laurette.”

Charlie had to blink away the moisture in her eyes. So sweet, so devoted to his friend. And he had no idea who he was dealing with—a coward. A cynic. He was heroic, and she was weak. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re going to have to let it go.”

His jaw hardened. “If our positions were reversed, if your sister Alex, say, died like Laurette did, trying to do what Laurette was trying to do, would you let it go?”

Intensity radiated off of him, out of his eyes, sending a shiver up her spine. In that moment, she couldn’t have lied to him if the fate of the world depended on it. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Then you’ll help me.”

“I don’t know how—”

“Talk to your mother, tell her about Rena being sick. I’ll be there with you.”

She flinched. That’s right, he knew. “What, to protect me? That’s not—”

“If you won’t do it, I will. And Mom might not like being blindsided by a cop.”

He had her cornered. She hated being cornered. Yet she knew in her heart it was the right thing to do, for Laurette. But, oh, God, the fabric holding together her family was already so threadbare. This was going to rip them apart. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled in a way that hit her in the stomach—or was that lower?—like a firm tap.

Sliding off the bar stool, she said, “I’m going to turn in for the night.”

To her surprise, he stood and fell in step beside her. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

She wanted to refuse but could see no way to do so politely. So they walked side by side in silence to the elevator. They reached for the call button at the same time, and their hands collided. Charlie jerked hers back, shocked by the energy that seemed to arc between them.

He cast a sidelong look at her. “You need to relax,” he said.

Yeah, but no way was that going to happen with him standing so close.

They stepped onto the elevator together, and the doors slid closed. “We’re on the same floor,” he said as he hit the appropriate button.

This elevator had to be the slowest one on the planet, Charlie thought. It hadn’t even lifted off yet when Noah said, “Thank you, by the way. I appreciate what you’re doing. I know it’s not easy.”

“You’re welcome.”

He faced her just as the elevator started to rise. “I’m curious about something.”

Great, now what? “Yes?”

Instead of responding, he stepped toward her and bent his head. His lips closed over hers before she could take a breath. The shock of the kiss shook her, loosened her knees, and she automatically clutched at his biceps for balance. His arm went around her waist, lending support as his free hand came up to gently cup the back of her head. His tongue grazed the insides of her lips before glancing off of her tongue. He tasted like mocha, rich and dark and sweet. Which was impossible, because he’d just been drinking beer.

Her head started to spin, lazy and sensual, and she felt her body relax against him, safe and secure in his arms as his lips trailed over her jaw.

“I love the way you smell,” he murmured. “Like coconut and citrus.”

Her breath hitched as it registered that she’d only recently met this man. But her head was whirling, her heart beating so hard it seemed to knock against her ribs. She couldn’t breathe and she didn’t care. As long as he kept holding her like this.

She must have made a sound of encouragement, because suddenly he was backing her against the wall, kissing her again, more insistent this time, almost desperate. She knew the feeling as she worked a hand under his shirt and slid her palm over the six-pack abs she’d longed to touch. Oh, God, they were so firm and ridged, his skin silky smooth and hot. She could have explored them all day, mapping the terrain with her fingertips.

His stomach sucked in as she stroked her fingers above his hip. Ah, she’d found a sweet spot. Pressing against him, she threaded the fingers of her free hand into the soft hair at the nape of his neck and kissed him back, tangling her tongue with his. She felt the thud of his heart against her breasts, and then she felt his stiffening arousal just before he angled his hips away from her.

He broke off the kiss and took a quick step back before jamming a hand through his hair. “Whoa, wow, that was . . . hmm, well, I guess that answers that question.”

The elevator door slid open, and he all but ran out. “Uh, my room is this way,” he said, gesturing vaguely.

Charlie watched him retreat, feeling lost and abandoned, her heart racing and her insides clutching with desire. She wanted more than a few heated kisses. She wanted all of him—how much shocked her. It was unlike her to be so overwhelmed by the sensations, and desires, of her body. She thought with her head. Always. Well, almost always.

Shaking her head, she went to her own room and let herself in. In the bathroom, she braced her hands on the vanity and peered into her own eyes. They looked fever bright and dazed, her cheeks flushed pink, her lips swollen from his kisses. Her heart had yet to slow its frantic beat. That had come out of nowhere. Hadn’t it?

Not that she could do anything about it. He was a cop from out of town. As soon as he solved his case, he would leave Lake Avalon, and she would be alone. Again.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE

W
hile gasoline pumped into the Mustang, Noah turned his face to the sun. He could get used to this. Sunshine and seventy degrees in the middle of March. Why would anyone choose to live in Chicago when there were places like Lake Avalon? Okay, so there were hurricanes, but the Midwest had tornadoes and blizzards. And he could get into living with sunshine almost every damn day of the week. People here seemed happier, too, for the most part anyway, less tense. Probably all the vitamin D from the sun. But, shit, even Lake Avalon itself seemed cheerful. The small parking garage across the street was painted a jovial pink, for Christ’s sake.

And there was Charlie. He’d thought his libido had taken a hike, but he’d discovered last night in the elevator that it had simply been in hibernation. One kiss from Charlie and he’d been sprouting wood like a fucking teenager. And then he’d all but run away from her. Smooth, idiot. But, Jesus, he was hungry. Ravenous, actually, wanting, needing, to bury himself in her and find salvation. He hadn’t trusted himself to control the need.

And it wasn’t just physical. Oh, sure, she was hot. All that rich brown hair, smooth skin and exotic eyes. She was as sexy as sin with zero intention. Supremely fuckable . . .

Better still, she was strong. Strong and stubborn and quick on her feet. He didn’t care for women who backed down when they were challenged. He used to think that was why he was still single. Submissive women turned him off, and so many women these days were like that, especially the ones who threw themselves at him. Not that he hadn’t let himself succumb to the charms of several. He wasn’t a dolt, after all. But even when he’d met someone he could fall for—such as Laurette—he hadn’t gone for it. Mostly, he’d felt too much like an unworthy mate, but she also hadn’t fascinated him as much as Charlie did. Now there was a woman who could make a bad man change.

The gas nozzle clicked, and he turned to take it out. Sudden pain drilled along his temple, snapping his head back. He thought, Fuck, aneurysm? And then his knees buckled, and he slumped against the side of the car and slid down. His left knee hit the asphalt while a rainbow of lights swirled with the pungent fumes of gasoline inside his head. Something spattered his hand, and he glanced down.

Blood.

CHAPTER
THIRTY

S
o you didn’t see
anything
?”

Noah glared at Detective John Logan, barely preventing a full-blown “you’re a butthead” scowl. He had to remind himself the guy was doing his job. Noah would be asking the same annoying questions if the roles had been switched.

“Like I said before,” he said carefully, “I was pumping gas and the next thing I knew, I was on my knees, bleeding.”

He gingerly brushed his fingers over the burning furrow in his scalp. The wiseass doctor who’d cleaned it up had joked that the scar would leave a new part in his hair. At least it would be hidden, unless he shed his hair like his dad had, and then he’d be screwed in more ways than one.

“You’re lucky the sniper was a lousy shot,” Logan said.

Noah let his pounding head fall against the pillow at his back and took a long, deep breath. Getting shot in the head, okay,
grazed
, sucked, but Logan was right. The shooter’s bad aim had saved his life.

“Looks like he used an old .22 hunting rifle.”

“A .22? That’s a lousy choice for that distance.”

“Yep,” Logan said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “So you’ve been in Lake Avalon, what, two days?”

“Something like that.”

“You make enemies quick.”

“I’m guessing by your attitude that you found no evidence at the scene.”

Logan smiled slightly, as though he’d decided to take Noah’s rudeness as a sign that they were buddies. “Obviously, we found the bullet or I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what kind of gun it was. So other than that and blood all over your fancy ride, nope.”

“Any idea where the shot came from?”

“Parking structure across the street. Sorry, no security cameras.”

Noah closed his eyes for a moment. He could have used a beer. No, something harder. Bourbon. Or something softer. Charlie. “Witnesses?”

“No one other than the gas station clerk who saw you go down and called 911.” Logan paused. “Snipers aren’t something we’ve seen here in LA.”

LA. That struck Noah as funny. Probably because Lake Avalon wasn’t like LA in even a tiny way. Well, there were palm trees. “Are you suggesting I brought this guy with me from Chicago?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Someone in Lake Avalon doesn’t like Chicago cops?”

“See, that’s the thing. It takes a lot to get Lake Avalon residents riled.”

“So snipers and fatal hit-and-runs and journalists getting run off the road and strangled are the norm around here?”

Logan scratched his chin as if stroking an imaginary goatee. “You have a point. So you think someone took a potshot at you because you’re asking around about the hit-and-run?”

“No. I think someone took a potshot at me because I’ve been hanging around Charlie, and some asshole wants her dead. I’ve interfered twice now.”

Logan’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, his cell phone started to ring. “Sorry, I need to take this.” He stepped away to answer it. “Logan.”

Noah dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Thinking hurt, but he couldn’t stop. Someone wanted Charlie dead bad enough to try to take him out. Whoever was after her was getting desperate, and that scared the crap out of him.

Logan sheathed his phone. “We’ve got a situation. I have to go.”

Noah raised his head, noting the other detective looked unnaturally pale. “What’s going on?”

“Body discovered. A woman. Looks like murder.”

Noah’s heart just about stopped. “Where’s Charlie?”

Logan paused, his complexion going paler. “Isn’t she at the Royal Palm?”

“Have you talked to her today?”

“No. Have you?”

“No.” Noah swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His head whirled like crazy, and his stomach flipped, but he clenched his teeth against both and stayed on his feet. “I’m coming with you.”