Love at First Flight (29 page)

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “but I'm not
going to.”

“Maybe she'll change her mind when she's
had a little time to recover.”

“I'm not counting on that.”

Sensing he didn't want to talk about it
anymore, she said, “Are you hungry?” The cops had been to the grocery store for
them.

“No. I'm tired, though. Suddenly, I'm
really tired.”

“Why don't we lie down for a while?”

“Okay.”

They walked upstairs together, and
Juliana closed the blinds in the big bedroom while he turned down the bed.

She snuggled into his embrace, her head
resting on his chest. “Tom must be loaded to own a house like this.”

“He was a very successful corporate
lawyer before he ran for state's attorney,” Michael said.

“Must be nice to have a spare house at
the beach. I wish I was in the mood to enjoy being stuck here.”

“I know,” he yawned.

“Want me to rub your back?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Turn over.”

He did as she asked and sighed when she
kneaded the tension from his shoulders. “God, you're good at that.”

“Remember the other time I gave you a
backrub? That was the first night we slept together.”

“Platonically, as I recall,” he said
with a small smile that quickly faded. “That was the night before opening arguments.
I'd give anything to go back to that night.” His eyes moistened and then
closed. “I would've called Rachelle first, and none of this would've happened.”

Juliana kissed his cheek and rubbed his
back until he finally drifted into restless sleep.

CHAPTER 24

THEY FELL INTO A ROUTINE AT THE BEACH.
JULIANA cooked for them, they took long walks—with cops trailing close
behind—they played board games, and watched movies. On the third day they tuned
in to a TV news special about the Benedetti trial.

“There's Tom and his wife, Jane,”
Michael said when the cameras followed them into the hospital to visit the
family of Officer Brown, who was still in a coma.

“They look like Ken and Barbie.”

Michael smiled at her description. “They're
the perfect political couple. I hear he's going to run for Maryland attorney
general next year, and I have no doubt he'll win unless we somehow fail to
convict the Benedettis.”

“What would that mean for you?”

“He could take me with him to Annapolis,
or I could work for the new state's attorney if he or she wanted me. But I've
been thinking about hanging up my prosecutor's hat when this trial's over.”

Juliana turned to him. “Really?”

“I've had enough. I was sort of reaching
that point before this case—and this one's just worn me out. I'm so sick of
dealing with the dregs of society. You finish one hideous case, and there's
another one right behind it. Just when you think you've seen everything, you
confront some other example of how evil mankind can be. Young victims, old
victims, kids, babies, I've seen them all.” He shook his head. “No one's
immune. And no matter how well we do our jobs, the victims are never entirely
satisfied because their lives are still in ruins. It's like what Monique
said—having the bad guys in jail doesn't always matter to the victims the way
you think it will. The person they lost is still dead. They were still raped or
assaulted or burglarized. They're always afraid. For the rest of their lives
they're afraid.”

Mesmerized, Juliana hung on his every
word.

All of a sudden he seemed to realize he
had said more than he'd meant to. “So it might be time for a change.”

“But you're so good at it. I remember
when I told my co-worker Carol that I'd met you on the airplane. She's Timmy
Sargant's cousin.” Juliana referred to one of the slain teenagers. “Carol said
you'd been so good to her aunt and uncle. I didn't know you very well yet, but
even then I could picture how wonderful you would've been with them.”

“That's nice to hear. I try to always
remember I work for the people, especially those who've been victimized. I just
worry I'll start to become immune to it all, that I won't have any reaction
when I see a baby without a head or a rape victim beaten to within an inch of
her life.”

“I don't think you could ever become
immune to those things. That's just not who you are.”

“Well, nothing's going to happen right
away. I meant it when I told Rachelle's parents that going after the people who
attacked her will be my top priority once the trial is over.”

A photo of Officer Brown flashed onto
the TV screen.

“Remember Scott laughing at my haircut?”
Michael asked.

“Yeah. That seems like years ago rather
than weeks.”

For the first time they also showed the
poisoned pizza being delivered on videotape that had finally been released to
the media.

Juliana gasped when she saw the
deliveryman's face. “Oh God, Michael! That's him!” she sputtered. “The guy who
talked to me on the street, the same one I saw in Newport!”

Michael sat up. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Positive.”

Michael went outside to have a word with
the cops. He came back in a few minutes later looking pale.

“What?” Juliana asked. “What did they
say?”

“They've identified him as Roberto
Escalada. He's a hired gun.”

“What does that mean?”

“They
were
planning to kill me,” he said haltingly, “but he must've never
gotten the chance. He even followed us to Newport.”

Juliana's hand flew to her mouth as she
broke down.

“Baby, if they catch him.

The look on his face stopped her heart. “What?
Michael...”

“You'll have to pick him out of a
lineup. You're the only one who's actually seen him.”

“How can that be? He delivered the
pizza...”

“He delivered it to Scott. If he doesn't
recover—”

“No,
no,
”
she whispered as it set in that if she was the only one who could identify a
killer, she would be in the same situation Rachelle had been in.

Michael put his arms around her and
dropped his head onto her shoulder. “I've dragged you into a freaking
nightmare.”

Shell-shocked, Juliana said, “Maybe
there's someone else who saw him. There were other cops at the hotel, weren't
there?”

He looked at her with shattered eyes and
shook his head. “They were asleep.”

“What about people at the hotel?”

“No one remembers seeing him.”

“But I didn't see him at the hotel,” she
argued, pulling free of Michael's embrace to pace the room.

“You can tie him to me and the trial and
thus to the Benedettis. The tape puts him at the hotel.”

“You were with me in Newport. You saw
him, too.”

“I didn't see his face.”

“Maybe they won't find him.”

“Then he gets away with poisoning
Rachelle and Scott.”

“Oh, Michael,” she said, sobbing. He
went to her. “No one will ever hurt you. Not as long as I have a breath left in
me.”

“I'm scared.”

He brushed away the tears on her cheeks.
“When I went outside I asked them what they knew about the guy on the tape. I
didn't tell them you recognized him.”

“Why not?”

“I won't involve you unless I absolutely
have to—unless there's no other way. Let's just wait and see what happens.”

She nodded and rested against him as
they absorbed yet another blow.

***

Michael went into caretaker mode that
night. He grilled steaks and made salad for dinner, which he served with a
bottle of wine he “borrowed” from Tom's wine cellar. Juliana pushed the food
around on her plate, and only when Michael urged her to eat did she make an
attempt.

After dinner, he lit a dozen candles in
the master bathroom and drew a bubble bath for her.

She was soaking in the big tub when he
brought her another glass of wine.

“I could get used to this treatment.”

“That would be fine with me.” He leaned
over to kiss her and then sat down next to the tub.

Extending a soapy hand to him, she laced
her fingers through his and gave a tug.

He laughed. “You are
not
pulling me in there.”

“Come on.”

“Why don't you come out here if you want
to play?”

“Yeah?” They hadn't made love since
Rachelle was attacked.

He pulled on her hand to encourage her
out of the tub. She stood up, covered with suds. He scooped her into his arms
and carried her to bed. “Michael! I'm all wet!”

“Perfect,” he said with a lecherous grin
as he lowered himself down on top of her.

Laughing, she buried her hands in his
hair and kissed him. When he came up for air, she brushed the suds off his
face. “You're overdressed.” Reaching for his now-damp sweater, she pulled it
off.

He filled his hands with her breasts and
dipped his head to feast on her. “I must've been a very naughty boy,” he
sputtered against her breast. “I'm getting my mouth washed out with soap.”

“You're the one who wanted to skip the
whole towel portion of the bath,” she reminded him. Her breath got caught in
her throat when he rolled her nipple between his teeth.
“Michael,”
she sighed, pushing him onto his back and undressing
him. She kissed her way from his chest to his belly. Wrapping her hand around
his erec-tion, she stroked him.

He closed his eyes and released a long
deep breath when she took him into her mouth. “Oh,
God,
Juliana,” he said with a shudder.

She drove him to the brink with a
combination of lips and tongue and teasing teeth. Then she straddled him and
took him in.

Rolling her hips back and forth, the
sensations were so intense, so overwhelming that she bit her lip to keep from
crying out. When he reached for her breasts, a jagged, breathless cry of
complete surrender escaped from her parted lips.

“Juliana.” His voice choppy and hoarse
with emotion, he slid his hands down to her hips and came with a great cry of
his own.

She slumped down on top of him.

“Just when I think it can't get any
better,” he whis-pered, closing his arms tight around her.

Brushing her lips over his, she said, “It
gets better every time.”

“If it gets any better, we're apt to
spontaneously combust.”

She laughed and rested her head on his
chest to listen to the rapid beat of his heart, reveling in the knowledge that
only she had the power to do that to him.

Long after Michael fell asleep next to
her, Juliana lay awake, afraid to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw
Roberto Escalada's face. If he had tried to kill Rachelle, he could certainly
come after her, too. The thought terrified her, and she was unable to control
the trembling that shook her body.

“Baby, what's the matter?” Michael
asked, stifling a yawn.

“I'm scared.”

He pulled her tight against him. “I'm
right here. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

“He's out there somewhere. He might even
be outside right now, and we'd never know it.”

“There're cops all over the place.”

“Rachelle had cops with her, too.”

“Do you know what I realized earlier?”

She turned to look at him. “What?”

He rested the palm of his hand on her
face. “That if you hadn't moved in when you did and had the confron-tation on
the street with Escalada, I never would've asked for police protection. I'd
probably be dead by now without you.”

Her eyes burned with tears. “I came so
close to leaving that day.”

Leaning over to kiss her, he said, “I'm
so glad you stayed, for many, many reasons, but I hate that I've put you in so
much danger.”

“There's one thing I still don't
understand.”

He yawned again. “What's that?”

“Why would they want to kill you? I
mean, I know they see you as the guy who's single-handedly trying to put them
in jail, but they have to know someone else would take over the case if they
killed you. So why bother?”

“Well, no one else knows the case the
way I do, so they'd have a definite advantage with a new prosecutor. They
might've also been aiming to bring about a mistrial.”

“But why? They're already in jail, so
what's in it for them to delay it? Wouldn't it be better for them to get it
over with and maybe get off and out of jail sooner?”

“There's almost no way they're going to
get off. Even without Rachelle, the case is very strong. They know that.”

“I still don't get it.”

Michael thought about that for a moment.
“Unless...”