Dangerous Kiss (10 page)

Claire screamed at the face that glared at her. Only it wasn’t the killer who stared back. The light showed her petrified reflection. She couldn’t see who or what, if anything, was outside.

Never looking away from the window, she shuffled backward into the living room and grabbed the shotgun down from the mantle. She snatched up a box of shells and shoved them into a pocket. A few strays slipped out and plinked against the brick hearth. She loaded the gun by muscle memory, grateful for the times her dad had taken her hunting.

The flashlight didn’t help make her feel safe. The gun helped, but.…

She hunched low and scurried to the bay window. Lightning flashed. For a moment she saw Jake’s SUV, too brief to confirm if he was in there. She scooted toward the door, the living room wall firm against her back—her goal, the front door and Jake beyond it.

Another burst of light. Onion stood growling at the kitchen door. The hair on his haunches stood straight up. The dog burst into wild, ferocious barking.

Claire swung the shotgun over. Pointed it at the kitchen door. “Who’s there?” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. No one responded.

Jake would have called out.

Her finger caressed the trigger.

If the Voice of Doom lurked outside, she couldn’t afford to be a damsel in distress. She took in a steadying breath. Gritted her teeth. A calmness descended. No more fear. She knew what she had to do. She took in a deep breath and let it out. She was ready to fire at whoever came through the door.

Then…nothing.

Onion stopped barking, trotted across the kitchen and took several long, deep sniffs at the bottom of the door. He jogged back to Claire, his tail wagging.

“Good boy, Onion. Good boy.”

She looked down at the shotgun in her white-knuckled hands. Unable to hold it any longer, she placed it on the fireplace’s brick hearth. Her blood rushed through her body so fast, she could swear she heard the ocean.

Claire slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. She ran her trembling fingers through her hair. The rain beat down nearly in time with her hammering heart, but the thunder and hail had passed.

A rapping at the bay window startled her. She jerked her head up. Jake stood on the other side of the pane, his dark, rain-soaked hair plastered to his head. “Are you okay?”

His words, muffled by the window, shot straight to her heart, calmed its beating. Unable to form any words, she pushed up off the floor and crossed to the door. She tugged it open and cool air stroked her cheeks. The breeze brushed the hair off her shoulders.

Jake folded her into his arms. His chin rested on her head, a warm drop of rainwater sliding down one side of her face, a baptism of sorts. She’d acknowledged her fear. Asked for help. Received it. Found safe harbor. Wanted more.

“It’s going to be okay.” Jake stroked her hair. “I’ve got you.”

And that’s what scared her more than the storm—or the killer. She teetered on the edge of falling for a man she knew nothing about. After Brett, she’d worked hard to block access to her heart. Jake shook down her barriers like an earthquake.

He’d be gone as soon as they trapped Kendall’s killer. She couldn’t take another heartbreak. It had taken so long to come back from the last one.

“Claire—”

A car horn interrupted him. She peeked around his arm and saw Beth’s Mini Cooper in the driveway.

“I have to go.” She stepped away. Confusion was clear in his eyes and it gut checked her. Claire stood on her tiptoes, gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

She trudged across the muddy drive with Onion at her heels, her tears camouflaged by the rain. If it hurt this bad to walk away, what would staying have been like?

Part of her wished she’d been brave enough to find out.

Jake watched the tiny car drive away, Onion’s head sticking out the passenger window. His solar plexus ached as if he’d been sucker-punched by a bear. He double-checked the latch on the front door and started toward his SUV.

Something slapping against a solid surface caught his attention. On alert, he stopped in his tracks and listened. There it was again.

Every nerve attuned to any movement, he grabbed the Beretta from his ankle holster. He crept toward the kitchen side of the wraparound porch. Turning the corner, he saw a hotel do-not-disturb sign hung from the kitchen doorknob.

Taking his time to be thorough, he scanned the perimeter. Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, he squatted down by the door. Scratches marred the lock. He picked the lock and cautiously entered Claire’s kitchen. His search didn’t turn up anything new and he returned to the porch and the do-not-disturb sign.

As he had done when he’d found the gas can in Claire’s pantry, he used his cellphone camera to document the find. He e-mailed the latest photo to his Absolute Security account. Still alert, he got into his SUV and turned on his cellphone’s hands-free option.

“Call Sherry.”

It rang twice. “What’s up, hot stuff? You finally callin’ to ask me out on a date?”

“Oh honey, you know I would, but Carl would kill me if I took his blushing bride out on the town. You’d never be able to live with him afterward.”

“Hell, I can’t live with the man now. Do you know he brought home another stray dog today? We’re up to five. Good Lord in heaven, it’s a sin what I pay for dog food every week.”

The news didn’t surprise Jake. He’d grown up with Carl in the house next door and Sherry across the street. For as long as he’d known Carl, almost thirty years, he had been dragging home every pitiful animal he found.

“That’s what you get for marrying a vet.”

“True. So what’s got you calling me if it’s not candlelight dinners?”

“I need some help of the unofficial kind.”

“Uh-huh. Talk.”

He could tell by her no-nonsense tone he was now addressing Sgt. Sherry Newsome of the Denver Police Department.

“I’ve got an UNSUB believed to have killed a woman, now terrorizing another. I’ll upload the case file to you as soon as I get to my hotel. I need to know if his pattern fits any open cases in Colorado, Nebraska or Wyoming.”

“Shit, you’re not asking for much, are you?”

“Do I ever?”

“Only every damn time. Are you working with the locals on this?”

“There’s an evening at Silvio’s in it for you and the puppy collector.”

“Damn. You’re gonna get me fired one of these days.”

He shrugged. “Hey, what are friends for?”

“Technically, you’re Carl’s best friend, not mine. But I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Thanks, Sherry, I owe you.”

“Believe me, I keep a running tally.”

Jake clicked off as he pulled onto the highway. The killer could have left the door hanger when he’d rummaged around the house. But if that was the case, why break the stained-glass front door?

Could the killer have been there during the storm? From his vantage point in the drive, Jake had kept visual contact of Claire through the windows but couldn’t see the kitchen door.

It all came down to the phone and flash drive. What the fuck was Burlington hiding? Time to find out. He pushed the phone’s voice-activation button.

“Call Burlington.”

B
eth lowered her sunglasses. “Well, looky who’s waiting for you.”

Claire spotted Jake and sank down in the passenger seat of Beth’s Mini Cooper as they pulled into Harvest’s nearly empty parking lot.

“Why won’t he just go away?” She groaned at the sight of Jake lazing against his SUV’s bumper. Dark aviator sunglasses covered his eyes, but his full lips were turned up in a smirk. He tipped his head their way. Claire’s belly went gooey. Hell, the man’s hard body wrapped up in tight blue jeans screamed “fuck me”. Her fingers itched to drag his zipper down and slide the denim off his muscular legs, before doing exactly that.

She forced her gaze away from him and turned her mind from the fantasies he inspired. Concentrating on the asphalt at his feet, still bearing ugly black marks from the Jeep fire, helped slow the lust streaming through her body.

“I told him about your interlude with the shotgun during the storm.” Beth examined her French manicure, studiously avoiding Claire’s penetrating gaze.

Claire’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I saw him at the Stop and Sip this morning. He ordered a large black coffee and picked up the tab for my mocha. I think that was nice, don’t you?” She looked up, her heart-shaped face plastered with false purity.

Claire glared at her best friend. Beth might be many things, but sweet and innocent were not two of them. “Spill.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Okay. Look, I know we,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “hate him. But you really like this guy, even if you’re not ready to say it out loud.”

“I don’t even know this guy!”

Beth shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes love works like that.”

“You’re thinking about my love life?” Claire waved her hands in the air as she searched for a valid argument to change Beth’s mind. “You know I do have more important things going on right now, like a psycho killer stalking me.”

Claire hoped she sounded more convincing to Beth than she did to her own ears. Beth arched a thinly waxed brow.

Damn.

“Honey, there isn’t a nutjob in the world who can take you down. You’re way too smart and stubborn for that.” Beth slung her arm around Claire’s shoulders and squeezed. “But Jake could really help. I know you want to do it all on your own, but no one ever does it completely alone.”

“I have you.” Claire rested her head on Beth’s shoulder.

“Yes, you do. But I’m a master of mental jujitsu.” Beth raised her mocha toward Jake. “I think super-stud over there probably knows the other kind.”

Claire contemplated Jake. Her body lusted after him and her dog trusted him. Beth probably was right. Maybe Jake was what she needed right now. A bodyguard with benefits.

Last night’s storm seemed like years ago. The sense of home she’d experienced wrapped in his arms was just a gauzy dream. In the light of day, the idea of no-strings-attached sex with Jake seemed possible.

She ignored the doubts. She could protect herself. He’d be leaving soon so her heart was safe.

Of course, first he had to tell her the truth about the phone and the flash drive.

“What are you plotting?” Beth seemed to always know when she was going to let her impulses guide her, which she admitted happened way too frequently.

Claire flipped down the car’s visor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Checking her reflection in the mirror, she reapplied her lipstick.

A casual affair. Better yet, one time only. With the way he threw her mind and body into turmoil, she couldn’t be confident she could stay emotionally detached if it was more than once. She glanced at him. Anticipation sent a shiver down her spine.

Confident in her decision, she gave Beth a quick hug, grabbed her travel mug of coffee and stepped out of the car. Beth beeped her horn as she pulled onto Main Street.

Jake said nothing as she walked past. Fishing the keys out of her overloaded purse, she wondered if he’d ever open his mouth. She unlocked the door and turned to face him. His arms were folded across his chest, his legs outstretched and crossed at the unlaced ankles of his tan work boots. All he needed was a cowboy hat tipped down low over his face and he’d be the epitome of nonchalance.

Yeah, right.

She nailed him with a glare. “You coming in or not?”

He smiled in response and ambled forward. Her gut sank to her toes. This might not have been such a good idea. Who was she fooling? Was it too late to take back the invitation?

Flustered, she whipped around and ran smack into the door. The emerging bump on her forehead throbbed, but her pride hurt more.

“You have the worst luck.” Jake’s breath fluttered by her ear as he spoke.

Claire shivered. His body heat seeped through to her back.

He reached past her and pushed the door open. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch on the door.”

Claire ignored him and strode into the darkened restaurant.

She loved the stillness of Harvest in the morning before the chef arrived, the food delivery guys dropped off their goods and the phone started ringing. This was her kingdom and she ruled it well. While many restaurants failed within the first twelve months, Harvest had netted a profit its first year. Not much of one, but it had been money in the bank.

On Mondays, Harvest stayed closed for business. Her routine dictated she’d spend the day buried in paperwork. Unlike other Monday mornings though, today she had a six-foot lightning rod of sexual energy zapping the calm.

“Well, if you’re staying, you might as well come on up to the office.” Claire added a little extra sway in her hips and ascended the staircase.