“But did you realize that was an hour later?” she asked. “Remember the digital time reads that we were looking at?”
He stopped and swore. “You could be right.”
“I am,” she said. “I need to get back in there and look at those crime scene photos and that ice cream shop’s video to see if we can get anything from somebody who might have been there.”
“Well, there’ll be a lot of people who were there,” he said. “I get that you’re really involved in this, but just stay sane over it all. Just like your suicide cases. If it’s a murderer, we’ll go after him. And don’t you worry. We’ll get him.”
“But will we get him?” she asked quietly, “before he takes out somebody else? And did Andy ever get into the chats?”
“Why ask me? You know where I was all day,” he said in exasperation. “Where the hell are you anyway?”
“I’m at home now,” she said, “after a judo session.”
“Yeah, so everybody else goes home and collapses, but you go work out,” he said in disgust. “What the hell are you, superhuman?”
“No, just pissed. Stressed out, pissed off, and damn angry that this guy keeps getting away with this.”
“You don’t know where the suicide guy is, and this drive-by shooter is a completely different case. Don’t get confused here.”
“I know. I know. I know. I’m trying not to let them run together in my head, but it’s hard when we know that they’re all out there, intent on hurting people.”
“And that’s why we’re doing what we’re doing,” he said calmly. “Just remember that.” And, with that, he hung up.
She groaned, got up, and had a shower, her thoughts immediately going to Simon and wondering if she should call him. But she changed her mind, knowing it was much better if she kept a little bit of distance. But, as she came out from the shower, a knock came at her door. Not sure why, she headed for her weapon sitting on the night table, and, with it held behind her back, she walked over to the door and asked who it was.
When Simon answered, she opened the door, and asked, “What are you doing here?”
He looked at her, wrapped only in a towel, his gaze appreciatively moving up and down, and he said, “Are you going to invite me in?”
His voice had dropped deep and husky, his eyes widening, and she could almost smell the pheromones that immediately lit up and turned her bones to molten lava. “Christ,” she said.
He stepped inside, shoving her forward gently with his body. “Come on. Invite me inside,” he said, and he slammed the door hard.
“You’re inside,” she whispered.
He looked at her and, when he saw the weapon, one eyebrow went up. She shook her head. “Are you really that wary?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” She took a step back and said, “I need to go get dressed.”
“Not for my sake,” he said, pulling her into his arms. Lowering his head where their lips barely touched, he whispered, “You never did invite me in.”
“I didn’t want to be distracted.” She placed her handgun on the side table, where her keys rested. “Now,” she threw her arms around his neck and whispered, “distract me.”
And then she crushed her mouth against his. He picked her up in a motion she wasn’t expecting, so smooth and with more power than she had even contemplated he could muster. He carried her through to the bedroom and, without warning, lowered both of them onto the mattress. It wasn’t just a coupling, but something hard, fast, and furious, yet incredibly sexy, as he drove her passion to the point where she couldn’t do a thing. She was mindless, as he slipped his hands over her body, up and down, caressing, smoothing, and calming. And yet, with every touch, her temperature rose; her cries came out as tiny wails, as he whispered, “Easy, easy, honey.”
She shook her head. “No, it can’t be easy.” She pivoted and shifted, knocking him onto his back, where she quickly divested him of his clothing. “It’s only fair,” she said, half panting.
“Oh, I agree,” he said, as he took off his shirt. In seconds, he had his pants off, but the boxers were a whole different story, with her hands firmly wrapped around his erection. He groaned heavily, and his hips shot upward, and he swore.
She laughed. “Turnabout is fair play.”
By the time he got stripped down, there was no time to take off his socks before she was already astride him. He gasped and froze.
She slowly, gingerly lowered herself down his shaft, just a few inches, then she stopped. He glared up at her. She smiled, stretched his arms over his head, and whispered, “See? Turnabout is fair play.”
He nodded and pulled a simple but fast maneuver, and suddenly she was the one underneath. As he sat here, poised at the entrance to the heart of her, he whispered, “Exactly. Turnabout is fair play,” and, with one hard movement, he plunged deep.
She cried out, her body arching under his onslaught, and, within seconds, exploded.