A log shifted in the fireplace, and Kelly jerked awake, darting a sharp glance around the dark interior of his living room.
Dammit. He slumped, raking a clump of hair off his sweaty brow. For Christ’s sake, he had to get a grip on his nerves.
A sarcastic huff blurted past his lips, and he glanced at the beautiful woman stretched along the blankets on his left. Yeah, fat chance of that happening any time soon.
Tipping his head back on the pillows, he tuned his ears to the gentle rain pattering against the sliding glass doors under the crackle and hiss of the fire. Well, thank God for small favors. At least the wind had left off its caterwauling, and the rain had eased up enough his house no longer suffered the blunt force trauma of the storm.
A deep yawn cracked his jaw, and he fumbled his hand along the edge of the coffee table, located his phone and tapped the screen. Five fucking a.m. Awesome. That made two hours since his last time check, and during those two hours, no matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t been able to manage anything more than a flimsy doze.
Not that his restlessness was Eden’s fault. Overall agitation when it came to working the particulars of a case was pretty much standard operating procedure for any cop. The minute she’d opened up about her past, his investigative instincts had kicked into overdrive, and the gears in his head had refused to stop cranking out possible murder suspects regardless of how hard he yanked on the lever.
Only problem was, not a single scenario he came up with seemed plausible. Despite how he flipped and rearranged the clues, each theory left a trail of unanswered questions, and none of them formed a cohesive picture that made a lick of sense.
Which meant somewhere during Eden’s admission of all things Dirty Deeds, he’d missed a piece, and the idea he’d somehow failed her in doing so was enough to drive him fucking nuts.
She’d done her part. Hell, she’d rejected everything she believed in to give up the details of her life. Now came the phase in the investigation when he was supposed to step to the plate and do his, and follow through on his promise to make sure she’d never have to stare another threat in the face again.
Her curvy little body wriggled beside him, and he wound his arm around her waist, tugging her into his hips. A muted whimper wrinkled her nose, and he skimmed a light kiss up and down her arm until she resettled into the slow, gentle breathing of deep sleep.
Shit, the mouthwatering scent of her skin was a total turn-on. His dick got tight before he had the chance to exhale. So was the velvety softness of her shoulder. And he couldn’t even form words to describe the addictive slope leading to the pulse point in her throat.
He licked and nibbled the tender spot under her ear until her heartbeat kicked a notch faster under his lips.
God, his physical response to her was hands-down crazy. One whiff. One taste. One fucking sweep of his mouth over her body and he was harder than a testosterone-fueled version of himself as a horny teenager. The only thing he could think about was kissing her awake so he could sink deep, drive them both back to the place where murder and heartache and all her bad memories became nothing but meaningless shadows of the past.
She whined at the disruption, hiking her shoulder against the way his beard rasped her neck, and fidgeted under the comforter. Nuzzling her ear, he tugged on the lobe with his teeth before backing off.
Yeah, maybe she was right. He’d already woken her once, greedy with need. Hot and anxious to confirm the way she’d let him come inside her wasn’t just his libido working overtime to provide the most erotic wet dream he’d ever had.
If he played this game much longer, he wouldn’t be able to think straight, and it was better he work the case while the facts were still clear in his head. Being anywhere near her was a distraction. A mind-numbing, cock-fisting distraction. And if he hoped to stretch their time together into the unforeseeable future…
He grimaced. Jesus.
Where the hell had that come from?
Easing away from her, he propped several throw pillows along her back, ass and legs to fill the empty space, and then wrapped her in the covers so she’d be nice and warm.
Standing near her feet, he studied the way her dark lashes fanned the tops of her cheeks, lips parted, hands fisted in a ball under her chin. Shit. Was a long-term relationship with Eden really what he wanted? Apparently, his subconscious was a go for launch. Too bad he’d sworn off any sort of permanent commitments, especially when it came to the emotional entanglements he found prevalent in protecting a witness. And even more so after living through that nightmare of a fistfuck with his ex.
Still… He squinted at the slender line of Eden’s shoulder blade, peeking over the top of the comforter, the perfect triangle framed by the arm hole of his A-shirt. Jaclyn had never belonged in his clothes the way Eden did. And his ex sure as hell never got under his skin the way Eden had in just a few days.
Squatting on his haunches, he collected the used paper plates and discarded water bottles, stacked the rest of the uneaten food on his arm and shoved to his feet. Same held true of the sinking panic he fought whenever thoughts of being separated from Eden trickled into his mind.
He entered the kitchen and dumped the leftovers into the garbage, rinsed the fruit bowl and stowed it in the dishwasher. There was just something about her that was…well, perfect. Even the thought of another guy touching her, knowing her and sharing her secrets, made him want to punch a hole in the wall.
Hell, after learning the direction her life had taken, he couldn’t even find fault in her decision to never have kids. Not that her verdict was a deal breaker anyway, since he’d never given a family of his own much thought. But, if and when the moment ever arrived for him to make that choice, who was to say he wouldn’t have come to the same conclusion?
He worked homicide, for Christ’s sake. The hazards of his job were many and the rewards few. For him to traipse headfirst into the American dream of a wife and two point five kids without seriously considering the risks, would be just plain stupid.
Besides, according to Eden—not to mention the steady stream of adult addicts Archer paraded through the precinct—there were plenty of neglected kids on the streets who were already in need of some sound parental guidance.
Jerking open the refrigerator handle, Kelly rummaged through the top shelf for something to drink. It was too early for coffee, especially if he hoped for another shot at catching some shut-eye, and too late for alcohol in case his efforts proved worthless and he ended up staying awake.
He grabbed the orange juice, poured a glass and doused the arid desert at the back of his throat. A quick refill, and he rounded the breakfast bar, heading down the hall for the guest bedroom he’d converted into a home office.
Maybe the better choice would be for him and Eden to formulate a plan to offer those troubled teens a leg up. After all, she and her friends had been only too happy to agree to Smith’s terms. They’d jumped at the chance for a roof over their heads and a guaranteed daily food quota even when the outcome had pitted them against each other in some bizarre competition ala Father Knows Best.
With the right groundwork, a good chance existed the two of them could make a real difference. Instead of forcing kids who were already near the breaking point to achieve some sort of unreasonable ideal, each of their strengths could be cultivated on an individual basis. He and Eden could provide a safe, secure environment, no strings attached.
Hauling up short in his office doorway, Kelly stared at his laptop, lying closed on top of his desk. A sardonic chuckle cinched his stomach, and he ran his hand down the stubble on his face. Damned if he wasn’t doing it again. Envisioning a future that included Eden when he wasn’t even sure what tomorrow might bring.
What the hell? He strode into the room and dropped into his computer chair, spun toward the desk and fired up his laptop. The entire concept of him and Eden fostering homeless kids was a pipe dream. As dangerous as their chosen professions were, no case worker would consider them viable candidates. For Christ’s sake, he wasn’t even sure if Eden had a social security number.
He winced as the browser popped open bright enough to illuminate the entire room. Yet, a kernel of something was there. The shell of an idea. And if he knew himself as well as he thought he did, that seed would fester in the old gray matter until he’d followed it through to a logical conclusion.
Scrolling through his inbox, he located Archer’s email and tapped the mouse. The cover letter was blank, but Archer had never been one for extraneous words. Kelly clicked on the attachments and dragged them to his desktop.
The first file contained DeFranco’s finalized lab report on Ruby but, after a quick scan of the contents, Kelly didn’t find anything new. Corroboration of DeFranco’s sixth sense when it came to postulating the events surrounding a crime. If he’d ever made a wrong assumption, Kelly had yet to hear about it.
He minimized the file, but kept it open in case he needed to recheck any of the details for comparison.
The labs on Smith made up the second attachment, along with several autopsy photos and the CSI report of the scene. No fibers had been found. No prints or hair other than those belonging to the vic. Tox screen showed Smith had been injected with a mild sedative, puncture wound located in the back of the neck, and it was DeFranco’s hypothesis that Smith had been drugged prior to being tortured so the perp could more easily set the scene.
Easing back in his chair, Kelly reached blindly for his juice and brought the glass to his lips. Which begged the question, why that room? Apparently, the location of Smith’s murder was important enough the killer felt compelled to stage the area but, if memory served, Smith had been bound and stabbed to death in a vacant bedroom at the residence. The one adjacent to his. So, what was the significance? Why that specific place?
Kelly’s eyes slammed shut at the same moment his head hit the back of the chair. Eden. Of course, the reason would center around her. Everything in this case did. During the recount of her training at Smith’s, she’d told him the others had teased her for being Smith’s favorite. Coupled with how she was the only girl out of the three chosen to inherit the Dirty Deeds monarchy, it made sense Smith would want her close—say, in the nearest bedroom—so he could keep an eye on her. Head off any funny business before it even got started.
Dammit. Kelly banged his glass to the desk with enough force, a few drops of orange juice splattered his hand. Why? Everywhere he turned, the clues led back to her. But the connections made no sense. What the fuck was he missing?
“Hey.” A warm hand clasped his shoulder, and he started then quickly tapped the mouse to minimize Smith’s file. The last thing Eden needed was a slide show reminder of the bloodbath she’d found at her mentor’s house.
“Hey, yourself.” He pivoted away from the desk, and relief eased the tightness in his chest as she climbed onto his lap. God, she was cute all rumpled and sleepy. Lips swollen from his kisses. Hair tousled over the way he’d tangled those silky strands in his fingers.
Simply being back in the same room with her calmed him. Made the world seem less…abrasive.
Shit, he was screwed. The woman had him cuffed, collared and locked in her personal cell.
“What are you doing in here?” She grabbed the edge of the desk and his feet scuffed the carpeting as she spun them toward the computer.
A lie formed on the end of his tongue, but… Dammit, no. He’d asked—okay, he’d demanded full disclosure between them. Giving her the runaround in response to such an innocent question would only nominate him as Jackass of the Year.
“Just catching up on emails.” Sliding his hand along the side of her neck, he planted a kiss on top of her head. Her cheek pillowed the dip between his shoulder and pec, the subtle curve a perfect match against his skin. Same with how her bent knees slanted at just the right angle along his ribcage and the soles of her feet arched over his thigh. In fact, from pretty much every aspect, the way their bodies fit in the chair, it was like they created a superimposed image of one person. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d work a little. See if I could catch a break in the case.”
“Did you find anything?” Knuckling her eyes, she lifted her chin to search his face. A second passed before she dropped her hand and blinked away any signs of sleep-sated limbo. “Uh, oh. I’ve seen those worry lines before. What’s the matter?”
He sighed. As if he could hide anything from her even if he tried. The woman’s observations skills had been honed to an art form. “I’m missing something. Something important, and when it comes to you that doesn’t sit very well in my gut.”
The smile that ghosted across her lips was quickly replaced by a frown, but the faint creases between her brows didn’t stand a chance at concealing the wicked gleam in her eyes. “Did you practice that answer while I was sleeping? Saying things like that make you incredibly hard to resist, you know. But there’s no need to butter me up. I’m happy to take a look and see if anything jibes.”
She pushed away from his chest and her feet hit the floor as she grabbed the mouse, but he covered her hand with his before she could click either file. “Wait.”
Her head snapped around so fast, he worried she might need a whiplash collar. Chalk one up for his protective instincts. Old habits and all that shit, especially where Eden was concerned.
But she was venturing down a rocky path. A road from which there was no turning back.
Being the one to usher her there topped the list of things he preferred never happen. Right above getting jabbed in the eye with a fork. Repeatedly.
Her hand tensed under his. “Are you pulling some sort of macho detective rank on me? I thought we were in this together.”
Together? Huh. He really liked the sound of that. Way more than the cynicism that had leaked into her voice, and the subsequent hit she was still inclined to suspect the worst of him even after everything they’d shared. “We are in this together. I’m only trying to give you a heads up. Autopsy photos can be…disturbing. Once you look, there’s no unseeing them, Eden. And afterward, they have a tendency to stay embedded in the brain. Forever.”
Her lips parted with a slight hitch in her windpipe, but she nodded. Didn’t fight him as he eased her hand to the left and positioned the cursor over Ruby’s file. “Maybe it would better to start with a report that’s less personal to you. Regarding someone you didn’t previously know.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek, her focus pinging between him and the screen. A bob of her chin, and he released her hand, sliding his palm up her arm to her shoulder.
He’d stick close in case she needed him, but he wouldn’t interrupt. Whether or not he hated the circumstances wasn’t the issue. He could hate them all damn day, and that wouldn’t change a thing.
The long and short of it was, Eden was right. He needed a fresh perspective on the evidence. From the one person who was every bit as invested as he was. Hell, even more invested than he was.
Giving her access to the files here, in his home, without a bunch of prying eyes around to make a call about how he was trampling straight through procedure, might be the only chance they got. He trusted her to keep the details on the down-low. To make the right move if and when the time came to spill how she’d gained such intimate knowledge of the case.
She clicked on Ruby’s file, but he kept his attention glued to her face. He’d been through the information enough on his own, and Eden’s response was what mattered. The slightest indication she’d hit on something, the smallest hint of recognition and he would stop her cold. Try to coax out whatever—
A choking gasp tore through her chest, and she jackknifed to her feet.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, what just happened? Kelly glanced at the screen. Frowned.
Ruby’s mug shot occupied the top left-hand corner of an old arrest report—eyes red-rimmed, skin pale, black eye make-up streaming down her cheeks and her hair a rat’s nest of dirty knots. She’d been charged with solicitation and possession of narcotics, but that had been over a year ago. Shortly afterward, Delroy had been murdered, Ruby had approached Archer and they’d begun working together.
Kelly squinted at the name typed along the top of the report and alarm jabbed the pit of his stomach.
No, wait. Fuck, it couldn’t be.
He slid his gaze back to Eden. Sweet Christ in Heaven. She stood motionless, the color washed from her face, her hands two rigid fists near her thighs.
She knew Ruby. Under a different name.
“Eden.” He spoke softly, standing in measured degrees from the chair.
No response. Unless he counted the single tear that welled on top of her lashes.
Dammit, how could he have missed something so obvious? He was a fucking idiot to have put her through this.
“Eden.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Baby.”
She shrugged off his touch like it burned. Movements stilted, body jerking as if her muscles refused to obey, she turned to face him. “I know who killed them.” She lifted a trembling finger toward the screen. “I know who killed Malcolm and Viv.”