Alive at 5 (Entangled Ignite) (19 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Zack let out a low whistle. “If Scott Fitzpatrick is on that yacht…who is buried in his coffin?”

“He faked his own death?” George asked, incredulous. “Can you really do that?”

“Apparently. I guess if you have enough money, anything is possible,” Samantha muttered. “Robert must have helped him.”

Zack could hear the satisfaction in her voice. He felt it, too. Together, they’d found the killer—or rather, killers. Because now, there really wasn’t any doubt. An itchy feeling of anticipation spread throughout his body.

“Now we need to find out why,” George said.

“Scott’s motive is pretty obvious,” Zack said. “Fifty-eight federal counts of fraud, money laundering, and conspiracy is powerful motivation to disappear. Robert’s…not so clear-cut.”

“I bet you a million dollars it also has to do with money.” Samantha leaned forward. Her breath hit his ear in warm bursts.

“Any theories?”

“When Robert was choking me he spit out something about rich people and hating them for spending money on stupid things like adventure vacations. I bet Scott held the purse strings, and Robert did whatever he said, but secretly resented Scott for it.”

“Good reasoning. Makes sense.” Zack loved the way her sharp brain worked. “But then why help Scott fake his own death and help hide him?”

“Money of course. Without Scott, Robert might have nothing. My guess, anyway. Let’s go see if I’m right.”

Her car door opened.

The smile dropped off his face. In half a second, she had jumped out. Where the hell did she think she was going? He ripped open his own door and followed. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“
Ssh!
” Her finger flew to her mouth as they both eased the car doors shut.

He took a quick look around. The Fitzpatricks were still inside the yacht. The parking lot was empty and dark. The few people across the street at the marina restaurant probably couldn’t see them in the limited light. He hoped they hadn’t blown their cover when the car’s overhead light had switched on and off.

He pulled her into a darker area behind the Ford and got right up in her face. “What the hell are you doing?” He fought to keep his voice under control.

“I’m going to interview Scott Fitzpatrick.”

“Like hell you are.” Her confidence while making that comment sucked the wind out of him.
This
was the same woman who had panicked when the camera was on her less than three weeks ago? He liked the change, and wished he could let her go bust Fitzpatrick’s balls, but it was too dangerous. “Not without backup.”

She wagged a finger at him. “You don’t have backup.”

“Neither do you.”

“I only need a cameraman. And I’ve got one of those. Do you know how many uncertain situations I’ve walked into?”

“None like this, I’m sure. The man’s a murderer.”

“He won’t dare touch me. You want to know why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He reached for her hand.

She smacked him away. “Because no one is stupid enough to commit a crime with a TV camera in their face.”

“Unless they kill you, too, and smash the camera.” Zack shook his head and grasped her firmly. “Forget it. I’m not letting you do this.”

“You can’t stop me.”

He tightened his hold, so tight he could feel the pounding of her pulse. “I just did.”

She tugged to get away. “Don’t you want to know what Robert Fitzpatrick’s motivation is?”

“Of course. But we need to regroup and come back with a plan.”

“I’ve learned from years of experience as a reporter that you stand a better chance of getting a bad guy to talk if the element of surprise is on your side.”

“You honestly think if you walk over there in your sexy little shorts, Scott Fitzpatrick will invite you onboard his yacht and spill his secrets while sipping expensive wine with George’s camera rolling?”

“Why not? You did.”

Ouch.
Zack’s faced flamed. She was on fire tonight. He wished he knew exactly what emotion, or hormone, was fueling this feistiness. “Get your story right. It was Grey Goose.”

She smiled and he felt the tension go out of her wrist. He relaxed his grip. Instantly, she bolted around the back of the car to the other side. “George, let’s go.”

Un-fucking believable.
She was going to get them caught. Or get herself killed. Where was all this newfound courage coming from?

George jumped out of the car. When Samantha hurried up to him, much to Zack’s surprise, he put his right arm out and stopped her. “I happen to agree with Zack.”

“Thank you,” Zack said, storming over to her.

“You’re going to let him get away?”

“I have him on video,” George answered. “That will prove he’s alive. We know where he’s hiding.”

“Not if he heads out to sea, taking Robert with him.” Even though George towered over her, Samantha’s energy made her seem just as tall.

“The three of us can’t corner him.” Zack pointed to the yacht. “If we go over there right now, they could kill us all and nobody would ever be the wiser.”

“How? We’ll be videotaping him. He’s in a public marina. People will hear.” Samantha’s voice vibrated with frustration.

“He’ll take us out to sea, where he’ll throw my camera overboard, right after he dumps our bodies.”

“He’s right.” Zack fingered the cell phone in his pocket, anxious to make a call. He needed to get both George and Samantha back in the car and out of the line of sight of the men on the boat.

“You didn’t even tell our news director where we were going tonight,” George pointed out.

“How could I? I didn’t know where we were headed until we got here.”

“I didn’t tell anyone either.” George glanced at him. “Zack?”

“Let’s take a breath.” He walked around the car front to stand next to them. “Do you realize what we just got on tape?”

“Yes. But it’s not enough. What do
you
propose we do?” she asked.

“I have a few friends in law enforcement…”

“But they don’t know you’re here. And you can’t tell them.”

Sarcasm again. “What’s with you tonight?” Zack asked.

“Hey, hey.” George stepped between him and Samantha. “Is this high school, or what? I say we find a hotel and sleep for the night.”

“Are you serious? You’re giving up?” Her exasperation was evident.

“No, but my camera batteries are. We’ve got to recharge them. How are we going to confront Robert and his dead uncle if the camera batteries are dead? Besides, I need to pee. And I need to eat. I need sleep, and about a hundred aspirin. If I have to kick some ass to save yours, you’re in big trouble. I can barely move.”

“I can’t believe this.” She shoved past George.

What a little hellcat. Zack reached out to stop her. “We’ll come back first thing tomorrow morning. Before the sun comes up.”

“They’ll be gone.”

“No, they won’t. I’ll make sure they don’t go anywhere. All it takes is one phone call.”

“What phone call? To who?” She walked up to him, stood on tiptoe, and put both hands on his chest. If she was trying to distract him, it was working. He could feel the heat where her palms lay flat against his clothing. “How do you know that?”

“Know what?” He stepped away from her.
Focus, man.

“That Robert and Scott Fitzpatrick won’t leave before we have a chance to talk to them.”

“It’s almost dawn and they haven’t slept. Look at the yacht. They just turned all the lights off. They won’t be up for a while.”

A twinge of guilt dug into him. He’d already decided to call the local PD and ask for their assistance. They’d have no reason to check his credentials overnight. They could keep an eye on
Catch Me if You Can
until dawn and assist if there were any problems in the morning. In fact, he might even call his superior at the FDLE and ask for backup. What could they say when he told them he’d located a dead man with fifty-eight criminal indictments who’d cheated prosecution.

“You heard George. You don’t even have a camera to record anything. What else can you do tonight?”

Samantha looked at the yacht and lifted both hands in surrender.

Thank God
. Gently, he put his arms around her, giving her a comforting squeeze. He moved her around as if slow dancing, so he could take another peek at
Catch Me if You Can
.

An overwhelming sense of contentment washed over him. Finally, he knew who had masterminded the murder of his uncle. All he needed to know now was why. And he had to keep Samantha from revealing what they’d uncovered to the rest of the world until he had a chance to prove it, and arrest Scott and Robert Fitzpatrick and anyone else involved.

At the same time, a rush of yearning heated his blood. He knew exactly how he’d distract her, so she wouldn’t brood about it all night. Or call her boss and get the media frenzy rolling.

He buried his head in the nape of her warm neck so she couldn’t see him smile. Who needed sleep, anyway?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sam threw open the door to room 106 of the Sandcastle Suites on A1A in Port Orange, her temporary home for the night. She was glad that Zack and George intended to share a room because, frankly, she was still pissed at both of them for forcing her to wait to confront that snake and his uncle. Zack might have his answers, but she still desperately wanted to know what Maxwell Wentworth had to do with all of this. Why her friend had died was still an unknown, and she intended to get that answer. And she needed to get some justice for Jenny. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for her death.

She reached into her dark room, fumbling for the light switch. Where the hell was it?

Suddenly, strong fingers curved around her waist and warm breath tickled the back of her neck. She recognized the spicy masculine scent of him. She stilled. “Zack?”

“Hi,” he whispered, his voice husky and hot.

A little tremor raced down her back. “I thought you’d gone with George to your room.”

“He’s taking a shower.” Zack gently pushed her forward before she could flip the switch on. “I’m giving him some privacy.”

The muskiness that had settled on his skin on their long drive up the coast touched off a visceral response in her. He smelled like such a
man
. She closed her eyes as intoxicating warmth rushed into her middle. “Um…how about you give me time to take a shower, too?”

“I like it dirty.” He chuckled.

She pushed against him. “Funny.” She walked into the dark room, unable to see a thing. “Zack?”

The door shut, followed by silence. Was he here? Did he leave
?
God, her nerves were shot, but every part of her was tingling.

She couldn’t even hear him breathe. But she could feel the energy he was putting off. The hair on her arms and neck sizzled with the anticipation. She stood still, waiting.

The floor creaked in front of her. The air conditioner clicked on. Maybe the hum of the unit would drown out the beating of her heart, because it was pounding so loudly. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Wild guess.” His voice was right in front of her. Reaching out, her fingertips grazed his chest. He pulled back.

She stepped forward and searched for him, wanting to touch him again. Nothing. She shook her head, a bit dizzy. “Can you turn on the light?” she murmured. “I want to see you.”

“We don’t need light to do what we’re about to do.”

“Then why are you making me wait?”

“For what, baby?” His finger found its way to her mouth. His rough skin brushed against her bottom lip, igniting a wave of heat that rushed through the rest of her body.

Feeling wicked and a bit out of control, she pulled his finger into her mouth. Slowly, she sucked the tip and then stroked it with her tongue.

He groaned.

His free hand moved into her hair and he bunched up a handful. “I need to tell you something.” He tipped her head back with just enough force that her scalp throbbed in an almost orgasmic wave. He knew just the right amount of pressure to bring her right to the point where pleasure met pain, but pleasure still won.

She swallowed, suddenly wary. “What?”

“I need to thank you,” he whispered.

Relief flooded through her. “There are so many ways to do that. Can I show you the ways I prefer?” She didn’t want to fight with him anymore. Not when he’d barely touched her and already had her body throbbing with need. “You can start by kissing me.”

He laughed but never released the grip on her hair.

“We found the murderer.” He sounded a little drunk, even though he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol.

“We did.” She barely got the words out. His tongue teased the sensitive skin behind her earlobe. The wetness of his kiss traveled across her jaw. She ached for more. “Let’s celebrate.” She reached for him.

He brushed her hands away. “Oh, I intend to.” His lips moved up to meet her mouth.

She opened her lips to greet him. Just the touch of his tongue on hers made her shiver with need. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged his body up against hers, kissing him deeply.

He didn’t resist.

She couldn’t remember a time she had wanted a man more. She ached physically to connect with him. But it was about more than just that. She’d fallen in love with this man.

The realization stilled her.

He must have sensed her hesitation, because he whispered her name into their kiss. He stepped forward, urging her backward. The back of her legs hit the bed. She let herself fall. Landing on the bedspread, the rough, thick material did nothing to stop the hard rush of desire ripping through her. He followed her down, covering her with his body.

She pushed up and into him. She was so high on adrenaline and need, she thought she’d have an orgasm without even taking her clothes off.

He made a guttural sound and slowly rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock into her. “You drive me crazy.”

“I’m the one who’s going crazy right now.” Anxious to feel his flesh against hers, she reached down to undo his fly. His hands met hers. Together they battled, quick and clumsy, over the metal buttons.

Moaning an incoherent medley of words, he jumped off the bed. He pulled off his shirt, his shoes, and pulled down his jeans and boxers, reaching into the pocket before tossing them aside and sheathing himself.

The moonlight filtered through the drapes, allowing her enough light to make out his muscular arms and chiseled chest. Another wave of desire rocked her flesh with goose bumps. His abs were ripped and his thighs muscular, but it was his cock that had her breathless. Jesus. She clamped her legs together, her muscles clenching with desire.

She followed his lead, tearing off her clothes in fast, furious movements, while never taking her attention off his body. She tossed her clothes over the side of the bed.

He crawled back onto the bed and pulled her to him. She rolled on top, mesmerized by how hot his flesh was. Her goose bumps melted into liquid fire, warming her from the outside in. She leaned down for a kiss—achy, wet, and needy. “Please touch me now.”

He laughed a hot breath into her mouth, denying her what she longed for, and rolled her onto her back. He pulled her arms high above her head and gathered both of her hands into a vise hold, rendering her helpless.

“Zack, you’re such a control freak.” Her heart fluttered, scared by the wave of vulnerability washing over her and, at the same time, high from the way his actions pushed her closer to the point of release.

“
You
, my dear, are the control freak.”

She bucked against his hold—part in play, part in earnest. He held her wrists with his left hand, while his right hand tickled its way down her side, fingers moving across her stomach, walking over her hipbone. She squealed as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

She wiggled beneath him and struggled to free her hands. Not that she wanted to get away, but the intensity was almost too much to bear. She shut her eyes and arched her back, straining against him. With a sigh, she melted into the bedspread, ready for him to take her.

“Not so fast,” he whispered.

The lingering was like torture. “Why not?”

He nuzzled her neck. “What’s your rush? On deadline tonight?”

“Always on deadline.”

“And always so demanding?” Zack let go of her hands and spread her legs wide.

The sudden and brazen move shocked her. She’d never felt so exposed.

He ran one finger over the most sensitive part of her, now swollen. She bucked up at the bliss that little touch caused.

“Is this what you want?” He stroked her, his fingers expertly massaging her, until the tide within her began to swell and rise.

She couldn’t hold back much longer. She moaned. “Yes. That feels so damn good.”

“You’re so wet.” He sounded pleased.

She pushed against him, wanting more. “More. I can’t wait.”

“Greedy little…”

She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down, forcing his mouth back onto hers.

This time he didn’t fight her. As his mouth consumed hers, he moved his body over her and thrust into her. He was huge and the friction of his entry sent a tidal wave of pleasure over her. When the length of him filled her completely, she cried out. “Zack!” Grabbing the bedspread with her fingers, she closed her eyes as the delicious rippling of a slow orgasm overtook her. Oh, God, she’d needed this.

He moved slowly at first, but she clawed at his back, wanting it harder and faster. She couldn’t get enough of him. She needed to feel him. She’d been starving, and hadn’t even realized it, but this was the feast she’d been craving all her life.

“I love you.” She whispered the words against his moist skin as she savored the pleasure.

His body froze.

So did she.

Omigod, I didn’t just say that
.

He lifted his head. “Samantha, I—”

She waited. Her heart trilled against her chest like fast fingers on a flute.
Oh, please.
An unexplainable ache roared through her.
Say something. Anything.

He bent down to kiss her, and she tasted salt on his lips. “Please, let me in” she said. “Tell me what you’re feeling. I need to know.”

He answered with another deep kiss—slow but strong enough to keep her from forming any more words. Her body pulsated, waiting for him to start moving again, to pick up the intensity, to get back to where they were before she’d thrown out those careless words and doused the raging fire.

But her heart was also desperate for him to return her sentiment in words, not just actions.

…

Zack sensed her emotional withdrawal. She wasn’t kissing him back with the same abandon as before. He wanted—no, he needed—her wet, hungry, and wanton as she’d been just seconds ago.

Just tell her,
the voice in his head screamed.

But loving words had never come easy for him. He had to find a way to
show
her he loved her. He reverted to the way he knew best, the thrill of physical pleasure.

He continued to kiss her, not letting her speak again. Her lips, swollen from their rough kisses, had proven her passion.

Now he was going to prove to her that she couldn’t live without him, because he knew now he couldn’t live without her. He was going to make her cry out with uncontrolled pleasure. Make her his forever. Leave that mark on her like he’d told her back at the Orange Grove sink. He stroked her, slowly and deliberately. He also rocked his hips, picking up the pace again. He knew how to hit her spot internally. Once he did that—

“Zack,” she moaned and arched her back.

His heart swelled. He loved the way she moaned his name and pushed against him. He had plenty to give her. He’d been waiting all his life to find the right person to receive the love he’d bottled up.

Her hands grasped his head and tugged at his hair.

She was close.

He intensified the speed. She was so fucking wet, and that was all the proof he needed that she was his. First, her thighs stiffened, then her back arched again, and she let out a sound he couldn’t describe. Just watching her joy pushed him over. He lost himself in the ripples and tremors of her muscles as they gripped his cock. He threw his head back and came with her.

Tell her. Tell her.

His heart beat against his ribs. If he didn’t, she’d think it was just sex to him. He glanced down at the woman still physically connected to him. Her hair was spread across the white sheets in dark waves, her eyes were closed, her chest rose and fell.

It’s now or never. Don’t think. Just do.

He whispered in her ear, “I love you, too, Samantha. I do.” A cramp seized his chest. “No matter what happens next, don’t forget that.”

…

He loves me.

The hot, pulsating water from the showerhead beaded up on Sam’s shoulders. Her fingers were waterlogged and wrinkled, but she couldn’t move. She just wanted to stand in the searing heat and revel in the euphoric sensations still humming through her body. But she knew if she did, she’d probably pass out from the heat and sheer exhaustion, so she finally stepped out of shower.

She reached for a towel, a slow smile spreading across her face. For the first time in days she felt weightless, high on endorphins. She wrapped the soft terry cloth around her body and stopped to listen. Was Zack calling out to her? His voice filtered through the closed bathroom door. No. He was talking on the phone. Who could he be talking to at three thirty a.m.? Quickly, she tiptoed closer to the door. She put her ear against the wood. Her heart pounded out an unsteady beat as she listened, hating herself for being so suspicious, but unable to let the reporter in her go.

Or the wary lover.

“I know. I agree. Look, I’ve got to go.”

She held her breath. He stopped speaking, but she heard other people talking in the background. What was going on?

“Okay. I don’t know.” Zack’s voice again. “I’ll try. She’s pretty determined.”

Was he talking about her? A slow burn spread through her. She threw open the door.

He had turned on a table lamp. He sat on the bed, head resting on the backboard. He put down his smartphone in one smooth motion. Then he smiled at her. Perfect. Casual. Charming.

“Who were you talking to?” She didn’t care if she sounded suspicious.

“George.”

“George?”

“That’s what I said. How was that shower? You look…hot.”

“Funny.”

“What’s wrong?” His eyes widened, but he didn’t really look surprised.

“Why were you talking to George? He’s not asleep?” She noticed Zack had thrown on his boxers.

He was still smiling. Confident. Sexy. “I was asking him about the video.”

“What video?”

“The one playing on my laptop. George brought me the video card.” He turned his laptop so she could see.

The images George had shot at the marina played full screen. Robert and his uncle were talking on the deck of the yacht. That was what she had heard? The video?

“He set that up for you? When?”

“While you were cleaning up.” His eyes, red and glassy, twinkled. “You take a long shower.”