Monday, February 23,
5:00 A.M.
„Wake up.“
Kristen heard the fly buzzing and swatted it away. „Kristen, wake up.“
No, not a buzzing fly. A rumbling voice. Abe. She rolled to her back, her eyes flying open. Abe sat on the edge of her bed, looking worried. And incredibly handsome. His shirt hung open partway, giving her a glimpse of his chest. It was hard, she knew. She’d felt his solid strength each time he’d held her against him. Now she wondered how it would feel to touch him there, to slide her fingers through the thick dark hair that covered his chest. Would it be coarse or soft? Would he like it? Would she feel his groan rumble beneath her hands?
As she contemplated, his hand lifted to smooth the hair away from her face so tenderly she wanted to sigh. He had such gentle hands. Such very nice hands. She shifted her body, feeling a warm throbbing between her legs that she now knew could become more than just a frustrating distraction. Much more. So that’s why everyone is so hooked on orgasms, she thought. The feeling had been simply… indescribable. Exhilarating. Powerful. I did it. I finally, really did it. And she wanted to do it again.
How exactly did one go about making such a request? And if she did, when would he expect more? Eventually, he’d want… well, more. And despite his arguments to the contrary, he would be disappointed. Abruptly the warmth chilled. So much for that.
He bent his head a fraction closer. „Are you all right?“
„I’m fine.“
He narrowed those blue eyes. „You don’t look fine. You shouldn’t go into work.“
„I have to. I’ve got motion hour at nine.“ She struggled up onto her elbows and groaned at the resulting pain in her back. „It feels like I got hit with a truck.“
„You did. A big truck with a gun.“
Her stomach quivered and she glanced over at her bedroom window. She’d nearly forgotten about the attack. It should have been her first thought, waking up. But it hadn’t been. Her first thought was of Reagan and his hands.
„You’re safe now,“ Reagan said soothingly. „You don’t have to be afraid.“ But she wasn’t afraid. No man had ever made her feel truly safe. Not until this man.
She looked him straight in the eye. „I know. Thank you.“
His eyes changed in a flash, going from worried to heated and the warm throbbing in her own body returned, intensifying almost to the point of pain. She watched his throat work. His jaw clenched. But he made no move to touch her. And she wanted him to.
She was in bed. With a man. And she wasn’t afraid. Not taking her eyes from his, her lips curved. „Good morning.“
His nostrils flared and she heard the quick intake of his breath. „Good morning.“
He needed to shave, she thought The beginning of a dark beard covered his cheeks, his chin. That space between his nose and his upper lip. Tentatively she reached up and trailed her fingertips along that space, then across his lips. And he swallowed hard.
„What?“ she whispered, her fingertips resting on his lips. They were soft, but she knew they could be hard when they crushed against hers.
His eyes smoldered. „You’re beautiful,“ he whispered back.
She had to remember to breathe. „No, I’m not.“
He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist and she wondered if he could feel her pulse quicken. He leaned closer until their eyes were just inches apart. This close she could see the blue was rimmed in black. „Yes, you are.“ Then he tilted his head and his lips were on hers and it started all over again. The rushing, the pounding, the throbbing. The wanting. She heard herself hum in pleasure and he apparently heard it too because he took the kiss deeper, pressing her back, back into the pillows. Her hands reached, found his shoulders and held on. There was a tension in his shoulders. He was holding back, she realized dimly. He touched her only with his mouth, the rest of his body carefully held apart from hers. No pushing, no forcing. Strong, but gentle. The disparity was arousing.
He ended the kiss without really ending it at all, teasing the corners of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, brushing kisses across her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. „You’re a beautiful woman, Kristen,“ he murmured into her ear and she shuddered hard, her hips arching upward, meeting nothing but blanket and air. Tensing, he pulled back until he was sitting in his original position. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her, his powerful chest rising and falling as he worked to catch his breath.
So this is what they mean by sexual tension, she thought. I like this. „How do you do that?“ she asked, her voice rough and husky.
His brows lifted. „Did you like it?“
She felt her cheeks heat and knew she’d bypassed peony pink and gone straight to ruby red. And by the look in his eyes, he didn’t care that her face clashed with her hair. „Yes.“
„Good,“ he said with such satisfaction that she had to smile.
She closed her eyes and screwed up her courage. „You make me want more.“
A full beat passed. Then another. „Good,“ he finally said and this time it was his voice that was rough and husky. His fingertips skimmed her lips. The mattress shifted as he stood up. She opened her eyes and her mouth went dry at the sight of his body in profile. His chest isn’t the only thing that’s hard, she thought. And the thought didn’t make her cringe. A mixture of pride and relief rushed through her as he chuckled wryly.
„Thank you,“ he said and she wished she could hide under the bed.
„I said that out loud?“ she asked.
„Afraid so.“ He aimed an amused smile in her direction. „You have to get up now. I have to go by my apartment and change clothes, shower and shave before I take you to work.“
She opened her mouth to say she could drive herself, then glanced at the window. There was pride and there was stupidity and Kristen was not a stupid woman. „Okay.“
Monday, February 23,
8:00 AM.
Spinnelli looked worried. He had a right to be, Abe thought. They didn’t have shit.
Spinnelli leaned one hip against the conference room table, his bushy mustache bent in a painful frown. „So if I might summarize…“ He lifted his hand and started counting with his fingers. „One, we have two more bodies. Two, one of the lead prosecutors in the city has been attacked twice, once in her own home. Three, it’s open season on defense attorneys.“
„That’s not such a bad thing,“ Mia muttered and Spinnelli cut her off with a glare.
„Four, the captain’s taken calls from Jacob Conti every other hour all weekend because the ME’s office is, in Conti’s words, carving up his son a second time, and five“ – he held all five fingers extended – „we don’t have a single goddamn suspect.“
Mia shifted uneasily in her chair. „That’s about the size of it.“
„Kristen scratched her attacker last night,“ Abe said. „What about the scrapings from under her nails?“
From his seat beside Mia, Jack shrugged. „I can get DNA for you, but until you have a suspect, I don’t have anything to compare it to.“
Spinnelli stared at the whiteboard in frustration. „Julia found nothing on Skinner’s body? No hairs, no fibers, no nothing?“
Jack shook his head. „Nothing. I did find some debris ground into Skinner’s clothes, mud and some chemical residue from the factory in the dirt. I matched it to the site where we found the bullet, so we can confirm Skinner was there. The vise he used to keep Skinner’s head immobilized was so tight it left an imprint of the model number. Julia was able to stain the skin so I could get a good photograph. It was a Craftsman.“
„Solid as Sears,“ Mia muttered. „On every daddy’s Christmas wish list.“
„I have one,“ Spinnelli grumbled. „Wife gave it to me for my workshop three years ago.“