Beyond Innocence Page 25

  He bestowed the same gift on the other breast before sitting up and undoing the snap at the waist of her shorts. She raised herself off the bed to allow him to slip the clothing over her hips and thighs easily. He was in no hurry, and his eyes trailed the fabric, admiring and adoring as it exposed flesh that she had been so ashamed of for so long.

  Finally, she was naked and he reached for his own briefs, but she stopped him with a firm hand on his. “We’re doing this together, Luke. There’s no way you’re having all the fun.”

  He smiled broadly and kissed her again, before allowing her to pull down his Jockeys. When they were cast aside and had joined her shorts in a rumpled heap on the floor, he moved to sit up but again she stopped him with a palm on his chest.

  Her hand found his erection. She admired and stroked his smooth, rigid length, cupping him and delighting in his soft expletives and the blatant evidence of his desire. “I’ve never touched a man like this before.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” he breathed.

  She continued to knead and stroke, and when his fingers clutched desperately at the sheets and she was sure he was on the brink of losing control, she moved her hand up to his scar. She traced the ridges and stiff tissue, and then bent to kiss it gently. “I wish all your wounds could heal so well.”

  In the next heartbeat she found herself supine on the bed with Luke hovering over her, his eyes dark and dreamy. His hand slipped between her thighs and found her wet and open to him. The jolt of electricity that shimmered through her dwarfed any and all previous approaches to fulfillment. She hadn’t even climaxed, and yet she was breathless.

  With a wantonness she didn’t know she possessed she moved against his hand, urging him to do more, go further. His fingers slipped inside her and she cried out in pleasure, “Luke!”

  That one word was all the encouragement he needed.

  In the next instant he was inside her and all around her, filling her world and her senses with a medley of explosive sensations. He kissed her hard and deep, and his thrusts matched the forays of his tongue. The wave approached quickly and just as she was cresting, he pulled his lips away and whispered, “I love you, Marnie. I need you to know that.”

  She merely nodded and whimpered as one more thrust sent wave upon wave of ecstasy crashing over her, and her pulses kneaded him like a hot, tight fist.

  She felt him tense, his forehead against her cheek, his breath hot on her neck, and she knew that he, too, had crashed back to Earth.

  He stayed there, his chest heaving and his body glistening.

  Marnie closed her eyes as she basked in the afterglow, but when she felt his teeth rake across her throat again the fresh ripples of pleasure were almost too intense to endure. She squirmed beneath him. “Oh God,” she squeaked. “Please…don’t.”

  “Why?” he mumbled against her throat. “Can’t take it?” His mouth drifted to her ear and nipped and teased until gooseflesh covered her from neck to toes.

  “No. It’s just…oh God!” She drew a sharp breath. “Too much.”

  “Never too much,” he argued. But at last he broke the contact and gazed down at her. His tongue flicked at her lips. “I don’t quite know where all that came from, you know. I don’t remember making love to a woman but somehow it was all familiar too.” He rolled off her and propped himself up on an elbow to ponder her. “Did I do anything wrong?”

  She almost laughed out loud. “Are you serious?” Feeling especially sinful and outrageous she pushed him down and rolled over on top of him, reveling in the hardness of his chest beneath her breasts. “You did just fine. I hate to think what might happen once we both have a little more practice.”

  “Mm.” He nodded approval. “Practice. I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. Let’s get started right away.”

  His arms latched around her like a vise, tight and possessive. She found herself on the verge of giggling again, and was astounded to realize she had never been so happy. “Hang on there, Casanova,” she protested at last.

  “Who?”

  She ignored him and took the opportunity to study his face more thoroughly. “You got to study me pretty good. Now it’s my turn.”

  “I’d think you’d get sick of looking at this ugly mug. The scars aren’t terribly aesthetically pleasing.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she said, using his own reprimand against him. She traced his dark brows, the pronounced cheekbones and the jagged scar. His nose invited a kiss, and his lips curled up in pleasure. She traced the harsh angles of his jaw. “There are other scars, you know—older ones around your mouth and one over your left eyebrow.” Her gaze dropped further. “Under your jaw, and I think a few on your chest.” She lay her head down and stroked the fine dark hairs that had curled slightly with his sweat. “You’ve taken a few hard knocks, Luke. I hope you’ve seen the last of them.”

  He caressed her back with long, smooth strokes. “I have a feeling my life has a whole new direction, and despite having no reference point, I think I can safely say I like it.”

  Marnie hoped he was right. She prayed for it. But deep down it was hard to ignore those nagging questions about his past and who he was, and where he came from. She could only hope that, wherever he was going, she would be a part of it.

  As his strokes became more insistent and his mouth devoured hers again, as his hands and tongue explored and invaded her in ways she had barely dreamed of, as they made love again with a slow, indulgent desperation, she rethought that wish. Her fervent hope was that wherever they were going, they would travel there together.

  For the first time in her life she felt beautiful, and special. At last she felt like she wasn’t so alone. She had found someone who made her look at the world as though it were full of wonder instead of full of obstacles and drudgery. She had found someone who seemed to need her as much as she needed him. She wanted to keep that feeling, and she thought fiercely that she would do whatever it took to protect it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Pete swirled his glass in lazy circles. The ice had long since melted and the ginger ale had lost its fizz. “Where the hell is he?”

  For the fiftieth time that night, Kyle’s and Pete’s eyes swept across the smoky sea of bodies and semi-nude dancers.

  It was a Wednesday, but The Pit was always hot and happening. This clientele didn’t need the excuse of a weekend to indulge in a few beers and maybe a little exceptional solicited sex.

  “She said he’s always here by nine, and it’s close to ten,” observed Kyle. “Think he got wind of something?”

  “I don’t see how. Faye hasn’t been home but she said that’s not that unusual. She left a message on their machine that she was at an all-night party with a girlfriend last night.”

  “Won’t he miss the kid?”

  “Not likely. He probably doesn’t notice if Tanner’s there or not, let alone actually worry about his whereabouts.”

  Kyle raked his fingers through his spiky mane. “Man, even if things change after this, that kid’s gonna be so screwed up. When I was his age I was scared to death of cops—and anybody over twenty, actually. But when I took him out of the diner last night…” He shook his head and stared into his Coke. “The way he looked at me… It was like he was Superman and I was Public Enemy Number One. I was the one who was quaking in my boots.”

  “That’s exactly what he’s learned. Cops are the enemy. You can’t trust ‘em.” Pete sighed and tossed back the last of his soda. “That wouldn’t even be so bad if he had somebody in his life he could trust.”

  “He trusted his dad,” murmured Kyle. “Maybe Tate wasn’t worthy, but to Tanner he was the sun and moon. I didn’t get much out of him last night, but it didn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

  “I think Scott felt the same way about Sam.” Pete clenched his fists and fought the urge to pound the hell out of the dented pine table that held their drinks. He hoped he’d be able to stifle the urge t
o pound the hell out of Calvin when the time came. “Strange to think that Scott and Tanner might be related. Cousins, even. Christ! This whole thing makes me crazy.”

  “Are you going to talk to Elsie?”

  “I haven’t said a word, and I’m not going to—not until I’ve identified a body. I’m not saying I don’t believe Faye, but her story had holes and I don’t put it past her to twist the facts to her own ends. As long as there’s a ghost of a chance she’s lying about this whole thing I’m not putting Elsie through that.”

  Kyle nodded approval. “And you put the call in to Canada?”

  “Yeah. No unidentified bodies have been found in that region at this point, but they’re launching a search, and they’re expecting us up there within the next couple of days.”

  “What’s the most we can hope for?”

  “Closure. And justice. At this point I’ll be happy with—” Pete’s eyes riveted to a figure who had emerged from the back office. “There’s our man.”

  The duo eased out of their seats and approached the bar, where Calvin was participating in an animated discussion with the sexy pseudo-grease-monkey who was busily filling drinks behind the bar.

  Pete tapped Calvin on the shoulder. “Mr. Carter.”

  Calvin whirled around as if he had been jabbed with a cattle prod. “What?”

  Pete discerned instantly that their quarry was flying. Unnaturally bright eyes darted between Pete and Kyle before finally resting on Pete’s burly form. “Haven’t I talked to you guys enough? I got nothing to say. Now get outta my place.”

  “We’re not here to talk, Calvin.”

  Calvin narrowed his eyes and the muscles in his neck went rigid. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” said Pete coolly, “that you are under arrest.”

  “What?” Calvin stepped back and his eyes turned fierce. “You’re crazy! You got nothing on me. What’s the fucking charge?”

  “Assault.” He nodded to his partner. “Cuff him, Kyle.”

  Kyle had already pulled the handcuffs out of his jacket. He reached for Calvin’s wrist and began to murmur the Miranda rights.

  But Calvin wrenched his hand away and pointed an accusing finger. “You guys are nuts. Assault of who?”

  “Faye Barton.”

  Someone had killed the music and the crowd grew quiet. All eyes were focused on the drama unfolding beside the bar.

  With the revelation of his little morsel of information, Pete saw the first real stirrings of trouble. Calvin’s eyes turned murderous as he swore, “That damn bitch!” He backed away again and Pete and Kyle advanced. “I had a feeling she was gonna roll over on me.”

  “Come on, Calvin. Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be,” soothed Kyle.

  “Shut up!” Calvin dropped his hands to his sides and clenched and unclenched his fists. “Just shut up. What else did she tell you? Huh? What’s this really about?”

  “It’s just a simple assault charge. Nothing else. You’ll be out on bail in no time.” That was a blatant lie. After their meeting with the DA there was no way Calvin was seeing the street again. At least not until his victims’ bodies had been found and he could be charged with murder—the murder of a cop. That would keep him in the pen indefinitely.

  They continued their advance, and Pete’s hand hovered at the opening to his jacket for quick access to his Beretta. “Then you can get yourself a fancy lawyer and beat this thing in a snap.” He snapped his fingers in the air, and the sound echoed through the stillness of the room like the crack of a rifle.

  “Bullshit!” In a flash Calvin grabbed a waitress who had been lounging beside the bar and, to Pete’s horror, rammed a pistol into her throat.

  Where a moment before she had been smiling, obviously enjoying her boss’s ordeal, now her face was a study in stark terror.

  “Don’t feed me that crap,” hissed Calvin. In plain view he unsnapped the safety and squeezed the trigger a little tighter. “She confessed, didn’t she? And she wants to take me down with her.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cal.” Pete leveled his gun, which he had drawn simultaneously with Kyle’s the moment Calvin’s weapon had made its appearance. He’d been quick, but, dammit, he should have been quicker. He should have known Calvin would be carrying. Anger at himself mutated into fury at Calvin, but he kept it under wraps. Outwardly, he was Mister Cool. “You’re just making it worse for yourself. Let her go and this will all be real simple.”

  “Simple, my ass!”

  The girl whimpered and her eyes pleaded for rescue, but Pete had to tread carefully. He had no doubt Calvin was capable of killing her. In fact, in Calvin’s current state, soaring on cocaine and who knew what else, Pete didn’t discount the possibility of a bystander bloodbath. Calvin could open fire on the whole goddamn room.

  “This is crazy, Calvin. Faye came to us all battered and bruised, screaming like a banshee for your head on a platter.” Keeping a firm grip on his pistol, Pete turned out his hand palm-up. “You know these chicks. She’ll probably insist we drop the charges in another day or so. In the meantime, it’s better for you to be cooling your heels in jail rather than racking up the offenses while you’re on the lam.”

  A slow, evil grin spread across Calvin’s face. “You’ve always been full of it, Gruber. There’s just one problem with your little tale—why are two vice cops picking up a simple assault?”

  Calvin was right. This wasn’t exactly within their mandate but neither was murder. It had taken some slick talking with the DA and the captain to convince them that Faye would only go along with it if they were on the case. The only way somebody else was investigating Sam’s murder was over Pete’s dead body.

  Pete didn’t miss a beat. “Faye came to us because she trusts us. It’s that simple.”

  Calvin’s smile was painted on like that of a macabre clown. “Nothing’s simple in my world, asshole.” His trigger finger flexed. “Except maybe one thing.”

  Pete studied his quarry. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Calvin’s eyes flicked from Pete to Kyle, and Pete felt something inside him shrivel. “I got a thing for killing your partners.”

  The gun fired and the girl was thrown at Pete’s chest before he could get a grip on what was happening. He screamed at Calvin’s fleeing form as he wrestled the hysterical girl out of his arms. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a slim figure crumpled on the floor.

  He couldn’t look at Kyle. Not yet. God! Not yet. Not again! He raced through the back door after Calvin. He had to catch that son of a bitch. There were others who would look after the kid, call the ambulance, or…whatever.

  He stepped out of the door to see Calvin disappear around the corner where the alley met the street. Pete took off at a run and skidded to a halt at the corner.

  Calvin’s black Monte Carlo was just revving to life, and by the time Pete’s bullets reached the rear windshield it was already halfway to freedom.

  “Dammit! Dammit!” Pete tore back to their car and radioed in, calling for backup, identifying Calvin and his Monte Carlo for pursuit, notifying of an officer down and calling for an ambulance.

  That done, he knew there was no way in hell he’d be useful pursuing Calvin himself. Heart pounding and closer to panic than he could ever remember, he ran back in through the front door of the club and made a beeline for the bar. There were women clustered around Kyle, and in his haste to get to him Pete lifted a couple of soft bodies out of the way. He knelt beside his new partner and friend, whose head rested in the lap of some sympathetic soul with a thirty-eight double-D bra cup.

  Pete’s heart missed a beat when he allowed himself to see the dribble of blood at the corner of Kyle’s mouth and the crimson stain that had spread out across the front of Kyle’s white cotton jersey. The girl had thought to press a towel against the wound, but it was already saturated with blood. “Jesus,” he whispered.

  At the sound of his voice, Kyle’s eye
s fluttered open and gazed directly into Pete’s. “He…he shot me.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. But you’re not dead.” Pete tried not to look at the stain that had already spread from Kyle’s left shoulder to the center of his chest. He didn’t acknowledge the small pool of blood that had accumulated on the floor. Instead, he trained his eyes determinedly on Kyle’s face.

  To Pete’s amazement a hint of a smile teased at Kyle’s bloodless lips, and his eyes roamed up to the pretty blonde gazing down at him, her eyes full of concern and worry. “You sure?” Kyle’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I thought I was with the angels.”

  Pete wanted to scold him for making a joke. He wanted to scream at him for getting himself shot. He wanted to do anything but feel the sick, ominous heaviness that had settled in his stomach. All he could do was grip Kyle’s arm and bend low to whisper above the whine of the ambulance siren. “Don’t you dare die on me, you son of a bitch. I ain’t losing two partners to that asshole.”

  One corner of Kyle’s mouth curved minutely before his lips curled inward in a heart-wrenching attempt to stifle a groan. His eyes flicked to the women clustered at his side before slipping closed.

  Biting back words that Kyle didn’t need to hear at that moment, Pete was grateful to feel strong hands drawing him aside. Without a word Pete deferred Kyle’s fate to the paramedics and silently prayed for a chance to wreak revenge on the little prick who dared to claim membership in the human race.

  * * * * *

  Elsie sipped her tea and stared at the old photograph propped up on the table before her. The fragrant steam drifted off the surface of the Earl Gray, lending an unearthly aura to the grinning two-dimensional figures. The lyrics to the old Simon and Garfunkel tune ran through her mind in a torturous loop. “Time It Was” used to bring a wistful smile to her lips when she recalled cherished memories of her and Sam’s first date, their wedding, or Scott’s first steps. But now, as she gazed at this photograph and considered the possibility that it might truly be all she had left of him, the wistfulness melted into heartache. Those same sweet memories took on a sharp, bitter edge.