Untraceable (15 page)

“Sounds great.”

She heaved herself from the chair, and he led her to the back door. He pushed it open and ushered her in. The utility room was crammed with about three weeks’ worth of laundry, and he shoved a heaping basket aside with his foot.

“Sorry,” he said, slipping around her.

“No problem. You should see my place.”

“You like red?” The wine was on the counter beside the fridge, and he pulled open a drawer and rummaged for the corkscrew.

“Red’s great.”

He glanced over at her and froze. “Holy shit, Alex.” He rushed over. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I—”

“Nothing?”
He lifted her chin and examined the bruise on her cheek. The skin there was purple and swollen.

“I bumped into a wall.”

He stared down at her, and she glanced away.

I bumped into a wall.

He dropped his hand. He leaned back against the counter and watched her. “A wall,” he stated calmly, but white-hot anger was pulsing through his veins.

“It’s no big deal,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

“Did Stockton do that?” Nathan would kill the guy. He’d fucking take his head off.

“What?”

“Troy Stockton. Did he do that to your face?”

“No.”

“Who did, then?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced around, obviously uncomfortable now in the harsh light of his kitchen.

And then he got it.

This was about her job. She’d gotten hurt working on some case. Probably Melanie’s.

“I shouldn’t have come over.” She shook her head and looked away, looked at everything except him. “I knew you’d freak out.”

“Tell me what happened.” He gripped the edge of the counter and did what he considered an amazing job of
not
freaking out while he stared at that swollen purple welt.

She sighed. “Look, Nathan, I’ve had a long day. Let me clean up first, okay? Then I’ll tell you everything.”

And when she finally made eye contact, he knew she was lying to him. She would
not
tell him everything. She would keep her guard up, like she always did.

But he nodded toward the hallway and played along. “Be my guest,” he said.

He watched her disappear and heard the water go on in the bathroom sink.

He loosened his grip on the counter. He unclenched his teeth. He took a deep breath and tried to rein in his emotions.

Anger. Frustration. Protectiveness. He wasn’t sure which he felt the strongest, but he needed to get a lid on all three before he said or did something he’d regret later.

Such as tell her to drop Melanie’s case. Or, even better, tell her to quit her job. She didn’t take orders well, particularly not from him.

He retrieved the corkscrew and slammed the drawer shut. With sharp, jerky movements, he uncorked the wine he’d bought earlier this week, thinking it might help him sweet talk Alex into bed. Instead, he’d nearly ended up in bed with Nicole.

He poured a glass and left it waiting on the counter, then made an ice pack and took it to the guest bathroom. A strip of light spilled out into the hallway. Through the narrow opening in the doorway, he saw her standing in front of the sink in a black sports bra and jeans. Her startled gaze met his in the mirror.

“Hi,” she said, and dipped her T-shirt under the faucet.

He eased the door open and placed the ice pack on the counter. “Want some Neosporin for that?” He nodded at the raw, red abrasion on her shoulder. Carpet burn? Pavement? Just conjuring up the possibilities made his stomach turn.

“Guess you’ve been shopping since my last visit.” She glanced at him in the mirror and smiled slightly. “If I keep showing up like this, you’re going to have to get some real drugs.”

He leaned against the counter now, facing her, and watched her dab at her shoulder with her damp T-shirt. She had a bruise there, too—a nice big one.

“You need to ice it.” He picked up the ice pack and braced a hand behind her shoulder before gently pressing the pack against the swollen joint. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.

“You want me to take you in, get it checked out?”

“No.” She looked up and gave him another weak smile. “It’s just cold.”

He held her gaze, and something sparked between them. And he was acutely aware of the water running, and her crumpled T-shirt on the edge of the sink, and the swell of her breast just inches from his hand. He couldn’t believe he’d let his mind go there right now, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. He’d been attracted to her from the instant he’d met her, and she was standing so close he could feel her breath on his neck. His gaze slid down to the black spandex that was rising and falling now, more rapidly than it had been minute ago.

“Why did you say that?” she asked, slipping her hand under his and taking over the ice pack. “About Troy?”

“I don’t know.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I thought maybe you were involved with him.”

“I’m involved with him, so that means he beats me up?”

“
Are
you involved with him?”

“Not like you mean.”

But Nathan remembered the unmistakable vibe he’d picked up at Eli’s. “But you
were
involved.”

“Were,” she said. “Past tense. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because he’d never hurt me.”

“He has a record of assault.”

Surprise flashed into her eyes. She lowered the ice pack and gazed up at him, and he couldn’t tell whether she was surprised that Stockton had a rap sheet, or that he’d taken the trouble to find out about it.

That’s right, honey, I’m jealous. And I want you in the worst way.
As if she didn’t know that already. As if she hadn’t figured it out when he’d pinned her against her car the other night and begged her to come home with him.

She trained her gaze on the mirror now and rearranged the ice on her shoulder. “Troy’s been in a few bar fights. That doesn’t mean he beats women.”

She was stalling.

“What happened today, Alex?”

“It’s a long story,” she said, and before he could protest, she cut him off with a look. “And I’ll tell you, okay? But I don’t want to analyze the entire thing right now. I’m not up for it.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “All right.”

“Basically, I set up a surveillance op with Sophie. To find out who’s been following me.”

Nathan struggled to keep his mouth shut as he waited for the rest of it. She rearranged the ice pack again, and he could tell she was using the time to edit the hell out of her story.

“We lured this guy to the mall,” she said. “Sophie approached him in the parking lot and got his tag, and I ran a trace on it.”

“And?”

“And it all went down as planned until he found me inside the mall and grabbed me. He pulled me into a hallway, and we had kind of a tussle.” She flicked a glance at him. “It sounds worse than it was, okay? Just calm down.”

“You left out the wall part.”

“I bit him, and he pushed me into a wall. Then I got away. End of story.”

Yeah, right. Nathan gritted his teeth. “Who the hell was this guy?”

“No idea. His tag came up ‘unavailable.’ Maybe you’ll have more luck running it down.”

“Did you even call security?”

“Yes. They wrote up a report. Now I’m done talking about it. Moving on. What did you call me about?”

He simmered for a moment, not at all ready to move on. But he let it go. For now.

“I was calling about Melanie,” he said. “I heard a rumor at work today, and I thought you’d want to hear it.”

Her spine stiffened, but she kept her attention focused on the mirror. “What was the rumor?”

“A buddy of mine with the sheriff’s office told me they had a crew out the other day, dragging the lake, right where we found our John Doe. They’re searching for a second victim, same spot.”

Nathan watched—shocked—as Alex’s eyes filled with tears. But she blinked them back and pretended to be focused on the ice pack in her hand.

He wasn’t sure why her reaction surprised him. Yes, Alex was tough, but Melanie wasn’t just a client. Alex really cared about her, evidently.

She cleared her throat. “Who’s ‘they’?”

“A couple sheriff’s deputies, a canine unit, a few feds.”

“But it’s not the sheriff’s jurisdiction, right?”

“Shouldn’t be,” he said, and she obviously caught the implications. APD had been cut out of the investigation. Again.

“And what did they find?”

“Nothing,” he said, but he knew that didn’t make the news any easier. “So… I’m starting to think you were right about Melanie. Sounds like you’re not the only one who thinks she’s dead. And if the feds are involved, and if APD’s been cut out, then there’s something big going on here. Something far-reaching.”

She nodded stoically. “I knew that.”

“I know, I just… I’m sorry to have to tell you.”

She glanced down and shook her head, as if she didn’t trust herself to talk. Or even to look at him.

He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her. But she’d picked her shirt up now, and she was holding it to her chest in a way that told him she wanted space.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I really want to clean up.”

“Sure,” he said, and then slipped through the door and eased it shut behind him.

He walked back to the kitchen feeling like an insensitive jerk. She’d acted so convinced of Melanie’s murder, he hadn’t realized she was still holding on to some kind of hope. And he’d just crushed it to pieces.

On the countertop was the big T-bone he’d thawed for dinner. He’d split it with her. He went outside and spent a few minutes reviving the fire. Afterward, he leaned his forearms on the wooden railing of his deck and stared out at the backyard, cursing his neighbors’ taste in music as he tried to come up with ways to persuade Alex to drop the case.

You’re completely out of your league here
—which didn’t seem to matter to her.
This goes way beyond your client, and you need to let someone else handle it
—which would be equally unconvincing. And yet another approach:
If you don’t drop this case soon, you’ll get hurt for real, and we’ll be fishing
you
out of Lake Austin, and I think that would kill me.

The back door opened, and he turned around.

Alex stood there, silhouetted against the light of his utility room. In a T-shirt. With a glass of wine in her hand.

She pulled the door shut behind her and walked toward him, and his heart turned over in his chest as he realized her hair was wet. And the plain white shirt she had on had come from a drawer in his bedroom. She reached beside him and set her glass on the railing, and he caught the scent of his shampoo in her hair.

His heart turned over again.

“Hi,” she whispered, and smiled up at him.

“Hi.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

This was the hard part. She’d made a play for what she wanted. And now she held her breath, waiting for his reaction, figuring it could go either way.

He wanted her. Or at least he had at the bar. But he was in a dark mood tonight, and she was fairly certain that while she’d been steaming away her aches and pains in his shower, he’d been gearing up for a lecture on the dangers of her job.

Which was
not
something she wanted to listen to at the moment.

She eased closer, brushing her thighs against his and settling her hands at his waist. Little shivers of anticipation danced over her skin.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

She pressed her weight into him, and his hands curved around her butt. She felt the exact moment when he realized she had on nothing at all beneath the thin, soft cotton.

“What are you thinking now?” she whispered, and his grip tightened.

He dipped his head down and kissed her. It was hungry, demanding. Possessive, even, in a way she hadn’t expected. And she was hungry, too. She’d been lusting after this man for months, and every nerve in her body was alive with the prospect of spending the next few hours naked with him. She couldn’t wait. She couldn’t wait another minute to discover what it was like to be with Nathan Devereaux.

Especially when he kissed her like this, like he was impatient and needy and every bit as eager as she was. His hands slipped under the shirt and pulled her close, and one of his thick, strong thighs eased between hers. The denim against her skin was like an electric shock, and she gave a little moan.

And then his hands found her waist, and the cool night air touched her skin as his thumbs stroked over her rib cage. She nestled closer, and he made a low sound of approval as his mouth moved along her jaw to the space beneath her ear.

A whoop of laughter made her jerk back and whip her head around to find the source of the noise. His neighbors. She heard a loud splash, followed by another.

She looked up at Nathan in the dark. “Pool party?”

He muttered a curse, and she slid her hands up into his hair and brought his head down for another kiss. She loved his hair, his mouth. She loved the way he kissed. She loved his hands on her skin, his big, warm palms pulling her against him.

Another splash next door.

“We need to get you inside,” he said into her ear.

But she liked it out here, and she had the urge to just slip the shirt over her head and see what he’d do.

His hands slid out from under the shirt and moved up to clasp her wrists. “Come on.”

And then he pulled her behind him across the deck. She glanced at the Weber and noticed the glowing mound of briquettes.

“What about the coals?” she asked him.

“Fuck the coals.”

He tugged her over the threshold, into the laundry room, and kicked the door shut. He led her through the kitchen, then the darkened living room toward the hallway that led to the bedroom.

That he’d shared with someone else, years ago.

She didn’t mind, really. But this first time… She wanted it to be just theirs. It was silly and sentimental, but she couldn’t help it. She pulled him to a stop just beside the fireplace.

“What?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Here.”

He glanced around. “On the floor?”

And she smiled at his tone—surprised, but not unwilling.

“The chair,” she said, and steered him into a big leather armchair that creaked under his weight when he sank down. The chair was wide and masculine, and she could picture him sitting in it, drinking beer and watching baseball. It turned her on much, much more than some bed he’d shared with another woman.

He gazed up at her, and even in the dim light from the kitchen she could see the heat in his eyes. “Always calling the shots.”

“Yep,” she said, watching the heat flare again as she knelt in front of him. He wore leather work boots, and she pulled off one. Then the other. Then she pulled off his socks and tossed them away. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. She kissed his palm, and his eyes darkened some more.

Then she stood up and settled onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his jaw, right below his ear where he was scratchy with stubble. He smelled like the grill and, very faintly, like aftershave. She nuzzled closer.

His hands were on her hips again, and he adjusted them until she was nestled right on top of the rock-hard bulge in his jeans.

“You’ve been in my shower,” he said, trailing kisses down her throat.

“Hmm… How did you know?”

His hands slid around and up, to cup her breasts. “I’m a detective.” He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, and she arched into him. His mouth trailed lower. She sighed happily as she felt the warmth of his mouth on her breast through the thin fabric. He sucked her, hard, and she squirmed in his lap as the warm ache spread everywhere.

He felt
so
good. Everything about him. But he was wearing entirely too many clothes and she wanted to feel his skin under her hands, so she tugged his T-shirt free from his jeans and pulled it up. He lifted his arms to help her, and by the time his shirt hit the floor, she was already bent over, kissing and nipping at his collarbone.

“I love your chest,” she said.

His hands found her breasts again. “I love yours, too.”

And she smiled because he sounded so earnest, even though she didn’t have the kind of breasts men lusted over.

At least not usually. This man was doing a pretty good job. And she wasn’t even naked yet.

He seemed to notice that, too, and he caught the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms over her head and yelped when pain shot through her shoulder.

He froze. “What?”

“Nothing.” She lowered her arms and rolled her shoulder. “Just a little sore.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and she knew he was going to try to put on the brakes.

“Are you up for this?”

“Yes,”
she said, and eased her elbow through the armhole.

He flattened his hands on the chair arms and watched her, as if he were afraid to touch her now, and she could feel the passionate mood slipping away. She got the shirt over her head and tossed it away.

“See? I’m fine.”

He looked into her eyes, still wary, and she shifted on his lap to remind him where they were. His gaze dropped to her body. Slowly, his hands moved to circle her waist, and she suddenly felt totally exposed. Which she was. His hands glided up her body to curve around her face and comb into her hair.

Gently, he pulled her face to his and kissed her mouth, her chin, her throat. And then the mood was back, only different now, because he was going slower, taking his time. His warm palms settled on her thighs and kneaded them softly as he kissed the side of her neck and she shivered. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, letting the moment wrap around her, letting everything disappear, all the stress and fear and anxiety of the past few weeks. It all went away except him and his hands and his mouth on her body and the way he knew just how to make her quiver.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and she opened her eyes and saw that he was watching her while he touched her.

She felt self-conscious now, so she turned the attention on him, kissing him deeply. She reached for his belt, and he stretched his legs out and leaned back to give her better access. Her fingers trembled as she worked at the buckle. She glanced at his face, to see if he’d noticed, but she couldn’t tell. Finally, she got the belt undone and then the snap. She took her time pulling down the zipper. Then he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and kept her from falling backward as he leaned against the chair arm and dug something out of his back pocket.

She sat up on her knees and busied herself kissing his jaw, his neck, his shoulders. His wallet thudded to the ground, and she caught the glint of a foil packet in his hand.

She kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him again, all the while waiting for the bittersweet pain she knew was coming as he lifted her hips and lowered her onto him.

Her breath caught. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Alex?” His voice was tight.

“I’m okay,” she said, and kissed him to shut him up. He seemed to believe her because he moved beneath her, rocking into her, as she moved against him, trying to get as close as she possibly could.

And then it was all good, only good, only pleasure, as they moved together in a blissful rhythm, his hands stroking up her back, then down again. They were together, completely, and with that wonderful friction, she felt the knot of loneliness deep inside her start to come loose. His solid arms wrapped around her, and the urgency was back, along with the impatient, insatiable hunger of that first kiss in the parking lot at Eli’s, when he’d seemed to want to swallow her whole. And she closed her eyes and felt the hardness of his mouth against hers, the rasp of his beard, the broad wall of his chest against her breasts as she moved against him and against him and against him. And then his hands were gripping her, moving her, pulling her closer and closer and he called her name again, like a plea, as she shattered and broke apart.

His muscles went rigid, and she held on to the moment as long as she could before she slumped against him and buried her face against his neck.

A minute drifted by. Then another. She rested her head on his shoulder and her palm on his damp chest. She felt his heartbeat under her fingers and loved knowing she’d made it pound like that. His hands stroked up her back and tangled into her hair. He pulled her head back gently and blinked at her with a heavy-lidded gaze.

“Wow,” he said.

She smiled.

“I mean it. Where you been keeping all that?”

She kissed his chin, then settled her head on his shoulder again. His arms wrapped around her, and for a while they just sat there, listening to the faint sound of country music next door. Alex closed her eyes and sighed.

He hadn’t been holding out on her. He’d told her about dragging the lake. And the knowledge that she could trust him banished the very last of her reservations. She’d completely let her guard down, but now it was time to rebuild it, at least a little. He’d have questions. He didn’t miss a thing. And certain details he’d let go earlier, while she was licking her wounds in his bathroom, were going to come back again. He kissed the top of her head, and she felt a rush of regret for all the lying she planned to do.

He didn’t say anything as she disentangled herself from him and slid out of his lap. Her knees ached as she stood up and turned around, searching for her shirt. She pulled it over her head and felt his strong arms wrap around her from behind.

“How’s the shoulder?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Good. Let’s go.” And then he caught her hand in his and pulled her toward the bedroom.

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“But…” she tried to think of a reasonable protest as he towed her down the hallway. “Don’t you need a break?”

He halted in the doorway, and before she knew it, he’d scooped her off her feet. She squealed in surprise.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he said, and dropped her right onto her bare butt on the bed. Then he sank down next to her, and she rolled into him, laughing.

“I doubt it,” she said.

He made a low growl and pinned her beneath him, planting his hands on either side of her head to hold his weight up so he wouldn’t crush her, and her heart melted a little because she knew he was still being careful of her shoulder.

“You picking a fight?”

“Yeah.” She smiled up at him and hooked her leg around his.

“Good,” he said gruffly, and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. And then the lightness of the moment faded as he gazed down at her. She gave in to the urge to reach up and slide her fingers into his hair as she studied his face in the dimness. He was a good man. She didn’t want to ruin whatever this was by lying to him. But it was his goodness that was going to stand in her way.

He kissed her again, harder this time, deeper, and that ache of desire started to build again. She wrapped herself around him and pushed tomorrow out of her mind as he made good on his promise to make her pay.

“Remind me never to shower with you again.”

Alex turned and glowered at him from beneath a head full of suds. “I was here first!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been in here forever. You think you might want to be a little more generous with the hot water?”

She turned around and tipped her head back, giving him a truly amazing view as she rinsed her hair.

“Ladies first,” she said, and opened one eye to look at him. “Hey, don’t stare at me like that.”

“Like what?”

She turned her back on him, feigning modesty. “Like I’m an exhibit in a zoo or something.”

He lathered his hands with soap and stroked them over her shoulders, then down her back and over her hips. He couldn’t get enough of all those soft, subtle curves. “It’s my shower. I’m allowed to stare as much as I want.”