Deadly Bonds (17 page)

She nodded, then forced a smile for Rochard. “I hope you’re being careful.”

Rochard snorted. “As if you cared. That board review is coming up soon. Friday, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Her spine was so rigid, it was a wonder she didn’t snap.

A waiter reached Rochard’s side, delivering a tumbler of scotch. “Ah, there it is. Thank you.” The waiter hovered a moment, probably hoping for a tip, then hustled off when it was apparent he wouldn’t be receiving one. Rochard took a large swallow and held the glass up to the light. “Manna from heaven.”

Holt felt a prickling of unease. Why? Why would Toxin insist he and Sara attend this thing if he wasn’t going to show up? And Rochard was right...the killer preferred a one-on-one scenario to killing in a crowd. Perhaps he was lulling them into a false sense of security, waiting to strike when they were alone. But they’d never be alone. SSAM security and the CPD were keeping a watchful eye. Holt turned to scan the crowd again.

“John?” The worry in Sara’s voice brought his attention back to her. “John!” The other man dropped his glass. Its contents splashed onto their shoes, but their focus was on Rochard, who was grasping at his throat. His skin had taken on a bluish hue. Sara reached for Rochard, but the man was stumbling away.

“Get back, Sara!” Holt shouted, but it barely broke through the din of the guests who were starting to notice the commotion.

Rochard had dropped to the floor, still clutching at his throat. He began to writhe in pain. In Holt’s peripheral vision, Max pushed his way through the crowd to get to them. From the far end of the room, Noah was trying to make his way to them as well.

Sara ignored Holt’s command and dropped to her knees at Rochard’s side. Holt bent down beside her and pushed her hands aside. “Don’t touch him.”

“We can’t just watch him die.” Her eyes were wide with shock and panic.

Holt loosened Rochard’s tie and shirt, but it wouldn’t matter.

“The drink,” Holt explained as Max and Noah joined them. “It must have been poisoned. Get that waiter!” He knew Damian, listening from his post in the parking lot, would have heard the commotion and would be sending paramedics in. Noah was also calling for reinforcements.

“I’ll go,” Max told Holt as he took off. “Stay with Sara.”

Noah pushed toward the doorways to prevent people from leaving before they could be questioned and cleared.

“Medical personnel are on their way,” Damian said over the mic. They’d been on standby in the parking lot. Moments later, Damian escorted the hustling paramedics to their side. Rochard was turning a dangerous shade of gray, his mouth opening and closing like a carp’s.

Holt shifted to make room. “Use protection. I believe he’s ingested poison.”

Sara’s hand reached out and took his as they watched them work on Rochard. “Was that waiter Toxin?”

“I don’t think so.” Holt squeezed some warmth into her fingers. She was in shock. To hell with who was watching, he wanted her in his arms. He pulled her close and wrapped her up tight against him, turning her face away from Rochard. The paramedics were doing their best, but it was too late.

“Why not?” Her words were muffled against his suit.

“Too young. I think Toxin was pulling more strings, getting someone to do his dirty work this time.”

“Is my boy going to be okay?” Senator Rochard asked the medics. “Please...please help him. Do something!”

At the senator’s anguished cry, Sara’s nails curled into Holt’s back. The paramedics moved quickly, trying to revive John, but it wouldn’t be any use. Toxin moved swiftly and surely. He’d taken another life. And why? To impress Sara? She was certain to blame herself once the shock wore off and she was thinking again. Apparently, the senator was a couple steps ahead of him.

“This is your fault.” The senator pointed a finger at Sara. She pulled away from Holt and faced the man. His body shook as he glared at her. “John told me about you, about how you’re determined to destroy my grandson’s future before he even has a chance at one.”

Sara paled.

Holt angled himself so he was in front of her. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me. I’m the reason she’s here.”

“No, Toxin is,” Damian said.

“Toxin?” The senator shook his head. “The serial killer? But the news says he uses a needle.”

“Apparently he’s widening his repertoire.” Holt jerked his head toward Damian. “We’ve got all of SSAM’s resources at our disposal, and this is our specialty.”

“We’re going to catch him,” Damian assured the senator.

The senator’s eyes narrowed on Damian. “If you catch the bastard that did this, I will donate a million dollars to your agency.” As he leaned in closer, his face was mottled and his voice quivered with rage and grief, but his eyes were calm and hard. “And if you kill him, I’ll give you two.”

“We’ll get him.” Damian motioned to another set of paramedics who’d just entered the room. “Can you check out the senator, please? He’s had an awful shock.” Damian’s phone rang, and he moved away to accept the call.

Others took over Senator Rochard’s care, and Holt pulled Sara away from the scene, finally breaking her gaze from John Rochard’s inert body. Her arm trembled beneath his hand and she was biting her lip so hard Holt was afraid it might bleed.

“Take her home,” Damian urged as he rejoined them a moment later.

“What about the investigation?”

“That was Max on the phone. He found the waiter, but it was too late. He was left in an alley not too far from here with an empty syringe by his side.”

Chapter Seventeen

Holt gladly accepted Damian’s directive to take Sara home and keep her safe. Max and Noah would handle things at the banquet hall. Sara, on the other hand, needed to get out of there. And
he
needed to be home with Sara, even if it was only to watch her pack her bag in preparation to return to the Academy in the morning. He refused to think about how she wouldn’t be under his roof, under his protection, any longer. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her body and check her for damage. He wanted to keep her from biting her lips to the point of drawing blood by kissing her senseless.

And, really, what was stopping him? None of the excuses he’d used before seemed important. There was evidence of her love wherever he turned—she looked after Theo’s needs, wanted to protect Rochard tonight despite all he’d done to her, and went straight to Holt’s kitchen when they returned home and poured two glasses of water, handing him one before taking any for herself. Despite their rough beginning, somewhere along the way he’d come to know her selfless, warm-hearted side. Or maybe she’d always been that way and he’d tried not to notice, especially after Elizabeth had become pregnant and his future had become clear. Sara had told him she backed away from him and her friendship with Elizabeth to keep her attraction to him from hurting them. Had she sacrificed her own needs and desires for their good?

Besides, Elizabeth hadn’t been some dewy rose, totally innocent and guileless. They’d had their issues. All couples did. And she’d once, in a moment of uncharacteristic low confidence, admitted she’d been glad they’d gotten pregnant right away, so that he would be guaranteed to stay with her. Yet Holt had emphasized her positive characteristics. With Sara, he’d highlighted shortcomings. Looking back, he realized how unfair that had been.

Sara leaned against the kitchen counter and took several gulps of water. She was still too pale. “Did you check in with Theo?”

“Dad says he’s just fine. Sleeping soundly. Becca’s on the floor by his bed.”

“Good.” Relief softened the hard lines of worry for a brief second before they formed again. “Do you think I killed John? I mean, not with my own hands, obviously...”

Holt’s anger at Toxin flared anew. “You mean, because a killer was watching
you
, John was on his radar? Toxin wanted to impress you, Sara, but never, ever believe that you’re the reason John’s dead. Using that logic, I’m just as much to blame as you are. I’m the reason Toxin found
you.
”

She reached up as if to touch his cheek, but quickly dropped her hand.
Not this time.
This time, he would allow himself her comfort. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and he felt her warm breath through his tuxedo shirt. He let go of her hand and sank his fingers into her hair, holding on for dear life. The locks were wavy, eager to spring free after being trapped by a comb all evening. He turned his nose into the softness. The smell of flowers filled him like the promise of spring during a desolate winter.

“Holt?” Sara’s question held a note of confusion but also one of hope.

“I need to hold you a minute.”

She was softness, warmth, vitality. He absorbed all of it like a dry sponge. Her arms tightened around his waist. She melted against him as her initial surprise gave way to acceptance. After several minutes, she pulled away enough to tip her head up to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Nothing was wrong. That was what was different. This time, holding her felt right. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away before.” The huskiness in his voice gave away his arousal.

Her pupils grew large, indicating her own interest. “You’re not pushing me away now.”

“No.”

“So what now?”

His laugh feathered her hair. “What do you mean?”

Her lashes fluttered, hooding her eyes. “I’ll give you a hint. I’m not pushing you away either. In fact, I really, really like being this close to you.”

He leaned down, taking her lips beneath his own. She parted for him, letting him in. A moan of relief laced with desire escaped him and he sank into her, trapping her between him and the kitchen counter. His hands slid down her sides and locked onto her hips, holding her in place so he could show her what he wanted.

At first, he ran his tongue over her bottom lip—the lip that she’d bitten earlier. But as his hunger grew, the kiss grew fierce and wanting. He needed this, needed
her
—more with every breath he inhaled. Her light scent filled him, making him boneless with weakness for her, yet stronger somehow. Sara was fire and heat, but also security and understanding. His fingertips dug into her hips, inhibited from touching what he really wanted by her dress, but he didn’t let go. He wasn’t letting Sara slip through his fingers this time.

* * *

Sara shoved aside any doubts as to the wisdom of her actions and let herself feel something good without overanalyzing it. She’d always maintained a strict hold on her needs. Even when she’d been married, she hadn’t fully been able to embrace her desires. Maybe her body had known her mind was locked on one man, the man she’d fallen in love with years before.

He tasted faintly of the champagne he’d taken a few sips of at the banquet. Crisp and clean. She sensed that he, too, wanted to lose himself tonight. No questions asked. No consequences. Just two consenting adults finding a night of escape, and a reminder that they were alive. Safe. But a niggling doubt insisted she find out whether he’d push her away again.

She took one more taste then pulled away to gulp for air. His hazel eyes glinted with heat and purpose as he scanned her face. “You’re sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to stop this time. I mean, I won’t expect anything later...”

“I’m sure, and you’re talking too much.” He nipped at her lips.

She flicked out her tongue and he took it into his mouth, eagerly sucking on her. She drifted a hand slowly around his waist to the front of his jeans, slipping the hand between their enmeshed bodies so she could cup his erection. Stroking a thumb up and down the hard shaft, she enjoyed the way he shuddered in response.

He hissed out a hot breath against her mouth. “Wicked woman.”

She rubbed her hand against him again. “Teach me the error of my ways.”

“Oh, I didn’t say they were wrong. Bedroom?” The air between them nearly sizzled as he waited for her answer. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Yes.”

She only got a quick look at his bedroom before he pulled her into his arms to bring their lips together again. She was about to wrap her arms around him when he released her and spun her in an about-face so he could unzip her dress.

She laughed as the room swayed and then righted itself. “Trying to knock me off my feet?”

“The sooner, the better. I’ve been dreaming about seeing you buck-naked all night. Ever since that glimpse of lace when I zipped this earlier.” The crackle of the zipper and wisp of his hot breath just before he pressed his lips above her bra clasp weakened her knees.

She reveled in his hunger. Finally, he wanted her. Finally, he’d left his doubts behind.

His hands skimmed her with delicious roughness as he pushed the garment from her body into a sleek puddle on the floor. He turned her to face him again, this time more slowly. His gaze drank her in, pausing on the lace bra and panties. His throat worked as he swallowed.

His fingers moved along her body from her hip upward, lingering at the side of her breast. Sara couldn’t help the way her body reacted, instinctively arching against him so that she filled his palm. His thumb decided it could be wicked, too, flicking against her nipple through the lace. As she sighed with pleasure, his other hand moved to include her other breast. Still cupping her, he nudged her backward to the bed.

Sitting on the mattress put her at eye level with his abdomen. “You’re way overdressed for this party.”

She reached for his belt buckle and undid it, then made quick work of the button and zipper. He tugged his tie and shirt free and, in a flash, they joined her dress on the floor, a swirl of white and black like a yin and yang symbol. Unable to resist tasting his exposed flesh, she pressed her mouth to his bare stomach. The muscles there clenched at the contact and he hissed out a breath. Salty skin and musky male swamped her senses. The dark hairs that dusted his belly tickled her nose and she smiled against him.

“God, Sara, it’s been so long.”

She took another nip at his belly.

With a groan, he shucked the rest of his clothing and gently pushed her back onto the mattress. But he didn’t join her. He stood over her, his gaze heating every inch of her skin. Her nipples tightened beneath her bra. The lace no longer itched, but instead created an arousing friction with each breath.

He lay down on his side and trailed a fingertip from her lips, between her breasts, down to her belly button. He circled there once, then dipped his fingers beneath the edge of her panties. His gaze lifted to meet hers, connected, and held. She let him see everything there—her entire soul laid bare.

He moved his fingers against her moist heat. Hot tension gathered in her core and built and built to an aching need for release. And still his gaze held hers captive, his fingers pushing her to the edge. She hung there, immobile. With one more swipe of his finger, she fell off the cliff. She splintered, her core bursting into a million shards of light as she cried out. His palm pressed to her stomach, as if he could absorb the shockwaves that rushed through her.

She pressed her face into his neck as she rode out the pleasure. It wasn’t just a physical sense of exhilaration, but an emotional one of losing control with someone—with
Holt
—even if just for a few moments. But she craved a deeper connection. She reached for him, cupping his erection and stroking it until he pushed against her hand. Her fingers circled the length and her thumb brushed the tip once. Twice. He moaned and rocked against her. She let go of him, lifted her hips and removed her panties, making it clear what she wanted. Him. Inside her.
Now.

He moved on top of her, pressing against the apex of her thighs where she throbbed and ached for him. Needing him to ease the ache, she opened to him and wrapped her legs around his waist. She kissed the hard line of his jaw and nibbled down the column of his throat as he pressed into her. He went slowly, panting with the effort. His breath was cool against her flushed cheeks.

“I need you.” And she wanted to push him over the edge with her this time. Her hands gripped his biceps, then trailed down his back to his buttocks. He filled her completely then, and Sara gasped with the incredible emotion that swamped her.
Holt.
Finally.
A drop of moisture at the corner of her eye trickled down into her ear.

He increased the rhythm as heat coiled inside her again, ready to strike. His muscles bunched. Their climax struck, and he bent his face into the crook of her neck and muffled his shout against her skin. His exhalation sent shivers radiating to the extremities of her body. The shiver was quickly replaced by a warmth that seeped into every cell.

They lay together that way for several minutes, as if neither of them wanted to break the spell. Her arms locked him in place on top of her, his body a welcome weight, filling the places that had been empty for so long. After several long minutes, he rolled to his back, bringing her with him and tucking her against his side. His arm wrapped around her protectively. She couldn’t resist running a hand down his chest. This was Holt. He was with her. She thought maybe she should pinch herself, but if she was dreaming, she didn’t want it to end.

The quiet intensity was interrupted minutes later by frantic barking outside. As the barks turned to wails, Sara lifted her head. “Does your neighbor have a dog?”

“Yeah.” Holt pulled away from her and rose.

At the window, his nakedness was hidden from the rest of the world by the curtain, but open to Sara’s curious gaze. After being deprived of him for so long, she couldn’t get enough. Her eyes traced the curve of his shoulder and the strong line of his thigh in the moonlight. Fear—not of any outward threat but an inner one—pierced her. She’d fallen deeper in love with Holt. And though he’d made love to her body, she didn’t fool herself that she’d reached his soul. But maybe, in time...

He twitched the curtain back in place and strode to his closet. “He’s not usually a barker. Something must be wrong. I should check on Mrs. Mendelson.”

Sara sat up and held the sheet up to her chest to ward off the sudden chill. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He pulled on jeans and a shirt. “No, stay here. I’ll lock the front door behind me. Don’t open it for anybody. I’ll be back soon.” He cursed.

“What?”

He sat on the bed to pull his shoes on. “Do you know how to use a gun? I meant to show you, or have Max...” After shoving his feet into shoes, he sent a hand through his hair, setting it askew. “I’ll leave it with you anyway.” He disappeared into the closet and returned with a pistol.

A
gun?
Did he even know how to use one? “But you have a child in the house. It isn’t safe.”

His gaze locked on her. “If it means protecting Theo...protecting you...then it’s safer to have it than not. I usually leave it at SSAM, but I’ve been keeping it nearby lately. Just in case.” His gaze moved to the windows.

“I’ve never held a gun.”

He laid it in her hands, the deadly end pointing away from both of them. He gave her a quick lesson in releasing the safety, aiming, and pulling the trigger. She had to admit the weight of it was reassuring, given the circumstances.

“If you think you need it, just be sure it’s not me returning.” He grinned, but she felt the blood draining from her head at the thought of accidentally shooting him. Thank God Theo was at his grandparents’ home.

“Maybe you should take it. You don’t know what’s going on over there, anyway.”

“There’s an armed security sentry posted in a car outside. I’ll get him to go with me. Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.” Holt kissed her hard on the lips and rushed out, leaving Sara feeling cold from more than just exposure to the air. From outside, the dog continued to bark and wail as if the hounds of hell were after him.