Читать книгу Brody Law - Carol Ericson - Страница 21
ОглавлениеAs the fog rolled in damp and heavy, Sean narrowed his eyes and watched the EMTs load the gurney burdened with Dr. Patrick’s body into the ambulance.
Elise’s shoulder pressed against his, and he felt a tremble roll through her slender frame. He took a step to the side. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Her head swiveled around so fast, her hair whipped across her face. A few strands stuck to her damp cheeks. “I didn’t cause his heart attack.”
“I didn’t accuse of you of causing his...heart attack, but what were you doing coming out to his place on your own?” That fact upset him more than the idea that she obviously didn’t trust him.
“I was driving back to Courtney’s from school. It’s not like I have a police escort. I could’ve stopped off for groceries, dropped in on a friend.”
“But you chose to come here.”
“Look—” she splayed her hands in front of her “—I had Dr. Patrick’s address, you were busy and I happened to be in the neighborhood.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets as the ambulance trundled away from the curb. No need for a siren—Dr. Patrick was already dead from the heart attack.
“Why didn’t you wait for me? Or why did you have to wait at all? You left me his address. I could’ve handled the questioning on my own.” He started to shake a finger in her face and made a fist instead.
“Maybe it was fate that propelled me to go in on my own. By the time you got here, he would’ve been dead.”
“I guess fate’s not looking out for you too well, since by the time you got here he was dying.”
She held up her own finger. “Dying, not dead.”
“What does that mean?” He hadn’t had two minutes to talk to her alone. By the time he got her message and had driven to Dr. Patrick’s address, the cops had already been here and he’d arrived to see the tail end of their patrol car. The EMTs were already wheeling Dr. Patrick out of his town house, and Elise was talking to the neighbors, who were now wandering back to their own lives.
He had no idea what she’d told the cops about her reasons for being here. Had she dragged his name into it?
“It means—” she brushed the hair from her face “—he wasn’t dead when I got here. He’d already suffered the heart attack but he was still alive.”
“How long did he last?”
“Long enough to talk to me.”
He scuffed the toe of his shoe against the sidewalk. “What would he have to say to a complete stranger?”
“I wouldn’t say I was a complete stranger.” She flicked a piece of lint from the arm of her sweater. “I told him who I was through the window.”
“You mentioned my name?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?” Sean sucked in a breath and held it.
She hugged her sweater around her body. “He told me to tell you something about your father.”
His lips barely moved in his stiff face. “What?”
“He died before he could tell me.”
Sean let out a noisy breath that deflated his chest along with his hopes. “He knew, Elise. He knew something about my father.”
She placed her cool fingers on his arm. “If he knew enough to clear your father, why didn’t he step forward at the time? I’m pretty sure your father would’ve allowed him to break confidentiality to vouch for his innocence.”
“Are you implying Dr. Patrick knew my father was guilty?”
“No.” Her fingernails dug into his tattoo. “I’m just trying to reason through this with you.”
He shook his head. “There is no rhyme or reason. Why did Dr. Patrick have a heart attack today of all days, just when I found out about his existence?”
“Coincidence. Fate, again. It was a heart attack, not murder, not suicide.”
“The EMTs verified that to you?”
“Short of doing an autopsy on the sidewalk? Pretty much.”
“Damn! Minutes too late. Minutes away from getting to the bottom of this puzzle that has plagued me for twenty years.”
Her hold on his arm turned to a caress. “The puzzle, as you call it, doesn’t define you, Sean. Whatever your father was or did, you’re here now, in this moment.”
The tension seeped from his shoulders and he rolled them forward and backward. Then he clasped her hands between his.
She wriggled one free from his tight grip and brushed her knuckles across his tattoo. “And you know it. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You’re a Phoenix. You’ve risen from the ashes of your past to create your own present.”
As always, he shivered when she touched his tattoo, as if she were touching his soul. “Let’s get out of here and get something to eat.”
“That sounds great about now, but I don’t want you to get into any trouble because of me. Does your department have any idea you’re spending so much time with me?”
Sean clutched the back of his neck to knead his tense muscles. In all the worry about Elise and the drama over Dr. Patrick’s death, he’d almost forgotten the meeting this afternoon. “That’s not going to be a problem.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s not going to be a problem because I’m no longer on the case. It’s happening again, Elise.”
* * *
ELISE STEPPED BACK and placed a hand on her car. “Your department took you off the case? Why?”
“The captain thinks I’m too personally involved.” He held up one finger. “And before you get started, it has nothing to do with you.”
“It was that reporter’s story, wasn’t it? Dragging up the past.”
He shrugged. “Like I said before, he has a right to report whatever he wants as long as it’s the truth—and he told the truth. The department overreacted.”
“Sean, what did you mean when you said it was happening again? They don’t suspect you of anything, do they?”
“I just meant—” he dug his keys out of his pocket “—they’re punishing me because some killer decided to communicate with me. That’s how it started with my dad, too.”
“Well, it’s not going to end the same way.”
He reached forward and tugged a lock of her damp hair. “Why are we standing out here in this fog? Follow me back to my place and I’ll make some dinner. It’s just outside the city, if you don’t mind.”
“Perfect. I want to get out of the city right now, but I don’t want to put you to any trouble. Let me pick up the food this time.”
She’d clicked her remote and he opened the car door for her. “I actually have a couple of steaks in the freezer I’ve been meaning to cook for a while.”
“Then I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“Stay right behind me and I’ll keep my eye on you, but just in case.” He printed out his address on a piece of paper and slipped it into her hand. He shut her door and smacked the roof of the car.
Keeping her gaze pinned to the taillights of his car had the same effect on her as watching him in her rearview mirror—a feeling of safety. After Dr. Patrick died in her arms and the ambulance arrived and the police came, she hadn’t felt safe until she’d seen Sean striding across the street, his gait fueled by fury. His fury fueled by fear.
He cared about her. Whether his concern extended beyond feelings of protectiveness, she didn’t know. Did it matter right now? She needed his strength and he needed hers, too.
He’d been fighting his demons for far too long by himself. He obviously didn’t want to burden his brothers. He had no one right now to confide in, and she knew how that felt.
When the expectations of her small-town life began to close around her, she didn’t know where to turn. So she’d gone through the motions, treading the path that had been laid out for her.
When her maid of honor had dangled the gift of Ty’s infidelity in front of her, she’d snatched it. She knew once she became that runaway bride, there was no going back.
Maybe Sean needed something to hold on to, something to pull him out of his misery. He must’ve turned a corner when he got that tattoo. Now she’d been put here to help him turn another corner.
She followed him closely on the bumper-to-bumper freeway until he put his turn signal on and crawled onto an off-ramp. As she rolled to a stop behind him at the red light, she tapped the display of her phone to call Courtney.
“Hi, Elise. Are you calling because you’re going to be late? Because I’m not even home yet.”
“I’m going out to dinner, or rather having dinner at a friend’s place.”
“Turns out I’m going out, too. I’m finally getting together with the guy I met at the Speakeasy.”
A shiver ran through Elise. Courtney should be more careful. “What do you know about this guy, Courtney?”
“Uh, he’s an investment banker and he’s hot.”
Elise grimaced. Her experiences over the past few days had made her more street savvy than she’d wanted to be.
“Are you at home yet?”
“No. New client’s keeping me busy. Have fun and be careful.”
Elise pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to tell Courtney about her latest mishap. “You, too.”
Ahead of her, Sean’s right-turn signal blinked and he swung into the driveway of a small house in a quiet residential neighborhood. He must relish this escape from the big city.
He parked in the driveway and she pulled up to the curb.
Tossing his keys in the air, he said, “Miserable traffic.”
“This is a nice neighborhood.”
“Yeah, my little refuge.”
“You need it.”
He unlocked his front door and shoved it open for her. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job.”
“I know you do. You wouldn’t be babysitting me if you didn’t.”
He tilted his head as he stepped aside, a quizzical look in his dark eyes. “Right.”
She stepped into the room and inhaled the scent of cleanliness—furniture polish, bleach, disinfectant.
“It’s a good thing my cleaning lady came today.” He flipped on a lamp by the door, and it illuminated a masculine room, dark and cozy.
She placed her hands on the back of his couch, smoothing them across the dark brown leather. “Somehow I get the feeling your cleaning lady doesn’t have a lot of work to do.”
“How much mess can a single guy create?” He spread his arms to encompass the immaculate room.
“You don’t know my brothers.” She pointed at the kitchen, whose gleaming surfaces were visible even in the darkness. “Do you want me to help with anything?”
“Sure. I’m going to thaw out the steaks and put a couple of potatoes in microwave. I have some fresh asparagus from the local farmers’ market. You can wash and trim that.”
She saluted. “Got it.”
As he covered the steaks on a plate and shoved them into the microwave, Elise ran some cold water over the asparagus spears. “What did they tell you when they dismissed you from the case?”
His fingers paused over the microwave buttons, and then he stabbed them and punched the power. “Said they didn’t like killers communicating with detectives, that the killers fed off the high and it could encourage them to commit more murders.”
“You obviously don’t believe that.”
“When a killer communicates with the detective on the case, it tends to yield more clues. There are more chances that he’ll slip up, reveal some detail.” He grabbed a couple of potatoes from the pantry and slammed the door. “They know that.”
“So, it’s just you.”
“Yeah, it’s me. If the killer had chosen anyone else in the department, they’d be all over it.”
“Do you think he will?” She took a potato from his hands and held it under the running water. “Replace you with another detective?”
He snorted. “Not a chance. He’s fixated on me for some reason—probably because he knows all about my father. He’s not exactly a copycat of that killer, but he’s close enough. Thinks he’s being clever by pulling another Brody into his sick world.”
She bit her lip. “No news on anything happening at the bridge today at those coordinates he sent me?”
“No. Those coordinates were for my edification. Who knows what he has planned next, if anything.”
He snatched the potato from her, which she’d been scrubbing down to the flesh. “I like a little potato skin on my baked potatoes.”
She laughed. “Crime and cooking don’t mix.”
“Crime and a lot of things don’t mix. Let’s drop it.”
They finished preparing the meal by exchanging small talk, and it almost felt like a normal date. But she’d never dated anyone like Sean Brody before. His intensity always simmered beneath the surface. He ran so hot, he could grill those steaks without the heat.
She stole a glance at his backside, snug in a pair of faded jeans he’d pulled on after shedding his suit. What would it feel like to have all that intensity unleashed in the bedroom?
“Rare or well-done?”
“Huh?” She blinked as he shot her a curious glance over his shoulder.
“Your steak—rare, medium or well-done?”
“I grew up on a cattle ranch. I like mine medium rare and juicy.”
His eyes flicked to her chest and back to her face so quickly she might have imagined it. “Juicy, it is.”
She dug into his silverware drawer and grabbed a handful of utensils. Had he read her thoughts? Probably just looked at her face, which would forever preclude her from being a professional poker player.
The microwave beeped and he turned from the sizzling steaks. “That’s your asparagus. I have some butter over here, unless you prefer something fancier.”
“I prefer...butter.” She turned and grabbed the bowl of asparagus from the microwave and felt like replacing it with her head. If that’s the best she could do at seduction, the only beef she’d get tonight would be that medium-rare steak. She giggled. She’d been hanging around Courtney too long.
“Something funny about the asparagus?”
“Well, there is something inherently funny about the vegetable, isn’t there.” She plucked a hot spear from the bowl with her fingertips and held it up. “It even looks like a...”
She bit off the end of the asparagus and practically choked on it.
Sean cleared his throat. “Phallic symbol?”
Popping the rest of the spear in her mouth, she nodded. She should’ve been paying more attention to Courtney over the past year of their friendship. She was pretty sure her friend wouldn’t be using asparagus as a tool of seduction.
Sean stabbed the steaks with a long fork and dropped them onto two plates. “I think I got that medium rare. Let me know your expert opinion.”
“Actually, I’ve probably had one steak since hightailing it out of Montana.”
“Uh-oh. Is this steak going to bring up bad memories and make you head for the hills?”
“I think I can handle it. Steak sauce?”
“In the fridge.”
He stood by his chair until she sat down across from him. “We make a good team...in the kitchen.”
She took a gulp of water. She had to get out of dangerous territory. Clutching her fork and steak knife, she said, “I think we make a pretty good investigative team, too. Is there any way we can unseal Dr. Patrick’s files now that he’s dead?”
Sean didn’t seem to mind the shift in topic, and his brow furrowed as he cut into his steak. “That’s what’s been bothering me, one of many things. If the department knew my father was seeing Dr. Patrick at the time of his...death, I would’ve thought they’d demand his records.”
“Maybe they did.”
“But they left everything as unsolved. Those murders are still cold cases. If Dr. Patrick’s sessions with my father had proved his innocence or guilt, it would’ve come out.”
“Did you ever ask anyone?”
“I wasn’t aware that my father even saw Dr. Patrick until we discussed it this morning.” He put down his fork with a piece of meat stuck to the end, a frown still marring his features.
“What is it?”
“Don’t you think it’s an incredible coincidence that the day I discover Dr. Patrick saw my father, the good doctor winds up dropping dead of a heart attack?”
“Yes, especially since he died at my feet. But what are you saying? A heart attack is a heart attack. Do you think my visit caused his heart attack?” She ran crisscrosses on her plate with her fork.
“Seems like he suffered the attack just before you arrived.”
“What’s your point, Sean?”
“Heart attacks can be induced.”
She dropped her fork. “You think someone killed Dr. Patrick by injecting him with something that caused his heart to fail?”
“It’s too coincidental, Elise. It’s unbelievable that his death occurred the very day we found him.”
“And it’s believable that someone killed him? Why would someone want to kill Dr. Patrick before he could tell you anything about your father?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” He picked up his fork and took the piece of steak between his teeth.
“If you don’t believe your father had anything to do with those murders twenty years ago and he was never formally charged or convicted, does it really matter anymore? You are secure in your beliefs, aren’t you?”
He chewed, swallowed, took a sip of water and gazed over her shoulder. Then his eyes tracked back to her face, and she saw the doubt in their depths. “Maybe that’s it, Elise.”
She had to hunch forward to catch his words, and she caught his hand at the same time. “It’s okay to have that uncertainty, Sean. It’s not being disloyal. You were a kid at the time.”
“I don’t want to believe it.” He twisted his fingers around hers. “The man who taught me everything, the man I looked up to, couldn’t be a cold-blooded killer. He would’ve had to have been a complete sociopath.” Without losing his hold on her hand, he slumped back in his chair. “That’s the scary part. I know they exist. I know there are people out there who act just like you and me—who love and laugh and feel pain—but it’s all a pretense. They feel nothing at all.”
“It’s more than just proving your father’s innocence to the world. You have to prove it to yourself. I get that.”
“How did we get here?” He loosened his grip on her fingers and traced her knuckles with the pad of one finger. “You have a killer sending you notes, launching sneak attacks and you just had a man die at your feet. And you’re trying to make me feel better.”
“You’ve done more than enough, more than I ever expected from that moment you sat down next to me in the emergency room. You’ve been by my side, going beyond the call of duty to protect me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just paying you back.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Is that what you think this is all about? Protection? Securing a witness?”
The pulse in her wrist ticked up several notches. Could he feel it? “I’m the only witness you have right now.”
He chuckled in the back of his throat, and the low sound sent a line of tingles racing down to her toes.
“The SFPD is not in the bodyguarding business. We’re not going to put you in the Witness Protection Program. It’s not like you have the goods on a mobster or anything.” He scooted his chair back and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Everything I’ve done for you has been off the books and off the clock.”
She twisted her own napkin in her lap as she tilted her head back to take in his imposing figure. “Why’d you do it?”
“Do you have to ask?” He dropped into a crouch in front of her, like a beast ready to pounce. “You may be a kindergarten teacher from Podunk, Montana, but you’re also the runaway bride. You’re the woman in my kitchen waving around asparagus and talking about juicy slabs of meat.”
She choked. “I...I...”
In one fluid movement, he rose to his full height, catching her under the arms and taking her with him. He supported the back of her head with one hand and pulled her close with an arm wrapped around her waist.
He stared into her face, his lips centimeters from her own, so close she felt the scorching heat of his breath. “I want you, Elise Duran. I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you bundled up in that hospital bed, and I can’t even explain it.”
Her breath came out in short spurts. “Maybe I’m your redemption, the means of redressing your father’s sins.”
“If redemption feels this good—” he ran a slow hand down the beads of her spine and rested it on the curve of her hip “—I should’ve gone in for it years ago.”
Her lashes fluttered and she parted her lips. If he released her now, she’d fall to the floor.
“Now stop.” He kissed her temple. “Talking.” He kissed her left eyelid. “About.” He kissed her earlobe. “My father.” His lips trailed across her throat, and his tongue circled the indentation below her Adam’s apple.
She slid her hands beneath his T-shirt and caressed the muscles of his back. Goose bumps raced across his smooth skin in response to her touch.
He nibbled her collarbone, sweeping the hair from her neck. His lips followed along its curve while he hooked a finger beneath her bra strap and top to bare her shoulder. “Your skin is so soft, like the petal of a rose.”
She’d imagined making love to Sean many times in the past few days, but she never expected poetry from him.
Her head dropped to the side, and her legs trembled. A very soft sigh escaped from her lips.
He growled in her ear. “I’m not going to take you here among the asparagus.”
He was going to take her? Before she could process that thought, he swept her off her feet. “Allow me to show you the rest of the house, or at least the most important room.”
“You mean the kitchen isn’t the most important room in the house?” She dug her fingers into his thick dark hair.
“Only for asparagus.”
She buried her face in his warm neck as he carried her to the back of the house. He bumped open a door and she balanced her chin on his shoulder to take in the view. The large bed, low to the floor, dominated the room with black lacquer pieces lining the walls.
He put her down on the throw rug by the side of the bed, and she placed one foot on the mattress. “At least you don’t have to worry about falling out of this thing.”
“It’s a Japanese-style bed frame. Do you want to analyze my furniture or finish what we started?”
She curled her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and tugged him toward her. “I have an idea. Let’s analyze the furniture first, starting with the bed.”
Encircling his hands around her waist, he bent his knees and brought her down with him until they were kneeling face-to-face, the low mattress behind her. He dropped his hands and cupped her derriere beneath her thin skirt.
His kiss cut off her breath and sent her heart racing. Everything about him had seemed so hard, but his lips felt soft and supple. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth and she opened it to the demanding pressure.
One hand had bunched up her skirt and she gasped when his rough hand brushed across the silky material of her panties, catching the soft material on the pads of his fingers.
He nudged her down on the bed, and the mattress conformed to her weight and then his as he stretched out beside her. He lifted her blouse, pulling it over her head. He followed the edge of her lacy bra with the tip of his tongue.
Thank goodness she’d donned some good underwear this morning before she’d left for school—about twelve hours ago. Before she’d been chasing kindergartners on the playground and finger-painting with them. Before some stranger died in her lap.
“Wait.” She struggled up, propping herself up on her elbows.
His eyes popped open. “You’re not going to run, are you?”
She rolled off the bed. “I’d like to take a shower, if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine.” With a deft touch, he reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. “But don’t think I’m letting you go in there alone.”
“Of course not.” She gulped, and when she got up from the bed, she left her skirt behind her.
Sean peeled off his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. When he stood up, he touched a finger to her nose. “You have the best ideas.”
She drank in what he’d been hiding under his button-up shirts and tailored jackets. His tattoo snaked up his arm, curling around his biceps. Slabs of hard muscle shifted across his broad chest as he reached down to unbutton his fly.
She swallowed and held her breath. Her friends in Montana had warned her that all she’d find in San Francisco was citified metrosexuals. If they could see her now—or rather see Sean.
Not wanting to appear greedy, her gaze returned to his face as he peeled his jeans from his hips. A quick glance downward confirmed he’d shed his briefs along with his jeans.
He reached out and pulled her against his naked body. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
“Why are you still wearing so many clothes?” His fingers fumbled with her bra, and in a matter of seconds they were skin to skin, their bodies meeting along every line.
“That’s better.” He kissed her mouth and then left her lips throbbing and wanting as he pressed kisses along her throat. Every spot he touched seemed to alight in fire.
She choked out, “Shower.”
Taking her hand, he led her to the attached bathroom and cranked on the water in the tiled shower. Water streamed from two showerheads.
She stepped into the warm spray and he joined her. He squirted some liquid soap in the palm of his hand and rubbed his hands together. “Now, what is it that needs washing so much that you had to interrupt my flow in the bedroom?”
She dragged her gaze away from the water sluicing over the planes of his body. “Everywhere.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He flashed her a grin that had her groping for the shower wall for support.
His warm hands, slick with soap, started at her shoulders and quickly descended to her breasts, where he circled her nipples, teasing and provoking them.
His palms rubbed her belly, and she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips.
“Turn around.” His hands cinched her waist and he spun her around toward the bench that extended from the shower wall.
He shifted his attention from her stomach to her inner thighs, and she parted her legs as the spray of water hit her shoulder.
He nudged her from behind, urging her to bend over, his erection spearing her lower back.
She placed her palms flat on the bench beaded with water.
Sean cupped one hand between her legs, and her hips automatically swiveled. She panted. “I thought this was supposed to be a shower.”
“And I’m very thorough in my cleaning. Don’t want to miss one little spot.” His soapy fingers caressed her flesh, and her arms began to shake.
He moved rhythmically against her, his hard, tight erection probing between her open legs. His magic fingers continued their exploration of her throbbing folds. When he entered her with first one finger and then a second, she closed around him.
He cupped her breast, pinching her nipple, and then his teeth nipped the back of her neck. The contrasting sensations overwhelmed her senses and she exploded.
As she rode the wave of her release, he plunged into her from behind. He was delivering all the intensity that had been simmering beneath the surface. She’d wondered what it would be like unleashed, and now she knew. Overwhelming.
Every time he entered her, he took her to some new height, some realm inhabited by just the two of them. When he pulled out, she felt moments of pure desolation.
He reached between her legs again, and his touch was so electrifying she screamed. Within seconds her muscles tensed and she clenched her jaw. She was almost afraid of the power that gathered within her.
The gentleness of his touch contrasted with the force of his thrusts inside her, and once again she broke. The pleasure that flooded her body melted her and she sobbed, pressing her wet face against her arm.
He whispered her name over and over and it echoed in the shower, surrounding her as he surrounded her. He pounded against her, skin on skin, and when his climax came, it engulfed both of them in its ferocity.
No moaning, groaning or grunting for Sean. He howled. And the sound of his passion, of his possession of her, sent a thrill to her core.
When he spent himself inside her, he covered her with his body. His legs twined around hers, his arms wrapped around her torso, his chest and belly were sealed against her back to the juncture where their bodies remained connected in the most intimate way.
The lukewarm water beat against their entwined forms as they gasped for breath. Slowly, he peeled away from her and slipped out of her. She felt the loss of him in the pit of her stomach, so she straightened and turned in one movement and clung to his chest.
He smoothed the damp hair from her face. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? I couldn’t...couldn’t help myself.”
Then she realized tears, not just water, were coursing down her cheeks.
She nuzzled against his chest, the sprinkling of dark hair ticking her nose. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You just took me somewhere, someplace—” she dug her fingernails in his firm buttocks “—I don’t know.”
He chuckled and wedged a knuckle beneath her chin, tilting her head back. “Would it be too cliché to say ‘paradise’?”
“You felt it, too?” She rubbed the water from her eyes.
“You’re kidding, right?” He cupped her face in his hands. “Do you think it’s every day I howl at the moon during sex?”
The happiness that welled in her chest overcame her, and tears sprang to her eyes again.
He kissed one of her eyelids. “If you keep crying, I’m going to think I’m a brute.”
She slapped his chest with her hand. “Are you kidding? Do you think it’s every day I break down and cry during sex?”
The smile dropped from his face, and his dark eyes kindled. “It was special, wasn’t it? I don’t generally go in for the mushy stuff, but you make me feel...mushy.”
Her fingers traced the ridges of his pecs. “You don’t feel mushy at all.”
“You just ruined my mushy moment.” He smacked her backside. “Let’s get out of here before we both look like prunes.”
Sean tucked a towel around his waist and padded out of the bathroom, returning with a fresh towel for her.
He held it out for her as she stepped from the shower. “You do realize that if I towel you off, it’s going to ignite that fire down below all over again.”
She fluttered her lashes. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
He wrapped the towel around her body. “You do have school tomorrow, right? You don’t want to come in with a sex hangover.”
“I don’t know.” She dropped the towel. “Is that the kind of hangover that can be cured with the hair of the dog?”
Sean made a move but stopped when his cell phone rang in the bedroom. “Oops, that’s my work phone. I’d better pick that up, but hold that thought.”
She gathered her towel from the floor and followed him into the bedroom. He was right. She had to get it together and return to Courtney’s to get ready for school. They’d have another chance to be together. Wouldn’t they?
Despite being half-naked, Sean had already morphed back into the dedicated cop with the phone call. He sat on the edge of the bed, the cell pressed to his ear, his face creased into lines of worry. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Do you think I asked him to contact me? Do you think I want it?”
A sick feeling twisted her gut, and she edged out of the bedroom, tucking a corner of the towel in the edge at her chest. She couldn’t take any more, not after what they’d just shared. She wasn’t ready to crash to earth just yet.
She wandered into the kitchen and collected the plates from the table while Sean’s voice rumbled from the other room. As she ran water over the dishes, someone pounded on Sean’s front door.
She dropped the silverware in the sink with a clatter and grabbed a dish towel, twisting it in front of her on the way to the door.
Sean stalked out of the bedroom, clutching his phone in his fist. “Who the hell is that?”
Elise reached the door before he did and peered through the peephole. Her heart galloped in her chest as she fumbled with the dead bolt.
“Wait, Elise. What are you doing?”
“It’s Ty.” She yanked at the door. “And he’s hurt.”
“What?”
She got the door open and Ty stumbled into the room, his face battered and pale, a white T-shirt, seeping blood, wrapped thickly around one hand.
She caught him in midstagger and he almost took her down. “Ty, what is it? What happened to you?”
He raised the hand swaddled in the bloody T-shirt and aimed it at Sean. “He happened to me. His henchman attacked me, and then the SOB chopped off my finger. He took my finger.”
Ty collapsed face-first on the floor.
