Waking the Dead Part 21

Don't think of it as a betrayal of Sweetie. He made his way to the cellar swiftly. It had nothing to do with his lover. Everything to do with a dark and insidious need that had begun growing with the first victim that had been brought to him.

His feet found their way swiftly, surely to the locked cabinet in the corner of his drawing room. Another key to open that. Then that lovely catch of breath as the door swung open. That giddy sense of antic.i.p.ation as he looked at the rows of gleaming skulls lining the shelves.

So much care had been taken in their restoration. Jaws wired together. Teeth glued back in. Eye sockets drilled out. It was perfectly natural to feel . . . a bit possessive after putting all that effort into the process.

Unerringly his hands went to the skull on the second shelf, right in the middle. He'd be lying if he said he didn't have a favorite. Sydney Schaefer. She'd been everything he could have wanted in a houseguest. Quiet and una.s.suming. And she'd pled so prettily at the end.

He set the skull and cloth on the desk. Undid his pants and covered himself with the soft cloth before inserting himself into the eye cavity. And gave a low moan. He held the cranium steady in both hands as he began to thrust.

Forget the fight that had been so upsetting. Forget the doubts. The worries about the next disposal site. This made it all worthwhile.

And when he came, it was Sweetie's name on his lips.

It was after midnight before the lone figure exited the morgue and headed to her rented SUV parked under the security light. Zach noted the exact moment Cait caught sight of him sitting on the hood of her vehicle. Saw the tension shoot into her muscles. And then watched her body ease again when she recognized him.

"You lost?" she asked when she got close enough.

"I was at the store cleaning gear. Figured you were still here. And that you hadn't eaten." He held out a clear plastic bag with a six-inch sub in it.

"You figured right." She took the bag and joined him on top of the hood. Withdrew the sandwich and unwrapped it. "Interesting choice of locations for a picnic."

He chewed and swallowed the bite of steak and cheese sub before responding. "I knew a nicer spot. Surrounded by nature. Private. Unspoiled. They pulled a bunch of human bones out of it this afternoon."

"Good point." He saw her expression lighten when she discovered he'd brought her an oven-roasted chicken breast. He'd paid attention. "No chips?"

Handing her a napkin, he said, "You don't eat chips."

"I don't?" She bit into the sub hungrily.

"Not that I've noticed. You can have half my big cookie, though. They only had one chocolate chocolate-chip left. A more chivalrous man would give you the whole thing, but . . . I'm not that man. I take cookies very seriously."

Her lips curved, and there was a shrewdness in her gaze that he immediately distrusted. "You're not that man. But you brought me a sandwich because you thought I hadn't eaten."

He shrugged, discomfited. "I was hungry. Thought you might be, too. You need to keep your strength up. Leaping tall buildings with a single bound has got to take energy."

"You're a nice guy, Sharper. This is going to wreak havoc with your go-to-h.e.l.l image, but deep down, you're a nice guy."

"Yeah, well . . ." He moved his shoulders, oddly ill at ease with the turn of conversation. "Don't let it get around. I actually only worry about feeding whisper-thin ex-models turned scientists who look like a good wind could blow them over. And only then on the fourth Friday of the month after they've hauled old bones out a hot springs."

"Very specific conditions."

"I'm no pushover."

"No one would ever claim you were." She surprised him then by lying back on the hood, staring up at the sooty fingers of clouds that would hide the stars even if they decided to make an entrance. "There was a breakthrough today. I can't tell you more than that, but . . . we've got a lead. It's solid."

He paused in midbite. Cait was usually so guarded that what he knew about the case came from what he could piece together from eavesdropping on her phone conversations or from news reports. That she shared even this much with him touched him somehow. More than it should have.

"I wouldn't have thought soggy bones would have told you much."

"We'll have to see what they tell me after they dry out." She turned her head and looked at him from her p.r.o.ne position. "Andrews said the women on your tour found them."

"Yeah." He blew out a sigh, recalling the scene. "They figured, h.e.l.l they were in wet suits anyway, why not test the water. Dumb idea. They would have roasted in those suits if they sat in the springs for any length of time. But they all got in, a bit of a tight squeeze. One of them stepped on the bag. The rest is history."

"A piece of history none of them will forget any time soon."

"Whoever those bones belong to deserves to be remembered. If for no other reason, that makes me glad the women found them. No family should have to wonder what happened to their loved one." At least when his mother had died that night in the hospital, he'd known it. There was no wondering if she'd walk through the door someday and take him home. Away from Jarrett's addictions, his erratic behavior and random mood swings. At seven he'd realized that there was no going back for him. And though brutal, that had been better than living with false hope.

"I agree. I want to get IDs on every set of remains before I'm done with this case. I don't know if it'll be possible. But that's my goal. It'd be hard to believe justice was done until we have names to go with the bones."

He wondered how she was going to manage that but figured she couldn't tell him so he didn't ask. But he thought of her now, bringing closure of sorts to the families who'd lost the people belonging to those bones. And thought they were lucky to have her standing for their loved ones.

"Justice can sometimes be in the eye of the beholder and slippery to navigate." When she remained silent, watching him expectantly, he surprised himself by going on. "My grandfather probably thought his will delivered the most fitting justice to my father by not leaving him a dime. The resort that used to be on the land he left me? Teddy Roosevelt once stayed there, or so I'm told. Local legend had it that the place was haunted. The place burned to the ground when I was three. Although it was ruled accidental, my grandfather let it slip once that Jarrett had done it. Probably high at the time, and wanted to rid it of ghosts." The corner of his mouth lifted. "My grandfather wasn't the forgiving sort."

Especially when the old man had tried one thing after another to make his son grow up and act like a man. Zach himself had been a tool in that attempt. When his grandfather had gotten proof of Jarrett's paternity, it was he who had forced Zach's father to do his duty. Probably had hoped the act would make Jarrett shoulder some responsibility for the first time in his life. It hadn't turned out that way.

"My father contested the will of course. The old man had made sure it was ironclad, but I could have worked a deal. Could have given him at least part of what he thought was his share."

"But you didn't."

"It would have been a betrayal of my grandfather's last wishes. One more reward for my father that he didn't deserve, didn't work for. Wouldn't appreciate." Most of the time he knew he'd done the right thing. But doubts were sneaky little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds that often preyed on nights when sleep was elusive and memories took hold.

Shaking off the moroseness that threatened at the thought, he finished the rest of his sandwich in silence before lying back on the hood next to her, one knee raised. He turned his head to study her. The dim light of the street lamp silhouetted her exquisite profile. And he surprised himself by asking the question that had been bothering him since they'd first met.

"How'd you get here, Cait?" She faced him, her brow winging upward, and he rephrased. "Not to Oregon, but to where you are. What you do."

A corner of her mouth lifted, but he could discern no amus.e.m.e.nt in her expression. "You mean how did I go from teen model to a forensic anthropologist slash investigative consultant?" Her gaze traveled past him, and the shadows in her eyes had nothing to do with the darkness hemming them. "Modeling was my mother's dream for me, never really mine, although I enjoyed it for a while. It was hard work, but it was exciting, too." Her shrug was almost indiscernible. "But I'm a geek at heart. I was always getting in trouble for smuggling science texts in bed and reading until three. Used to drive my mother wild because lack of sleep causes shadows under the eyes, and I'd show up for shoots looking haggard and gaunt. Her words."

He snorted. "Like that would be possible."

Her hand brushed his arm, one light stroke. "I decided to leave the job and attend college."

Zach could read far more into what she wasn't saying than what she was. "And your mother?"

"Disagreed. But it was my life and I decided it was time I started living it on my own terms."

That much he could understand. He'd done the same when he'd joined the military. Again when he came back here. He studied her in the faint light, a little shocked at the clutch in his chest when he saw the smudges under her eyes. "At the risk of sounding like your mother, you need to get some sleep."

Her voice was light. "Are you saying I look haggard and gaunt?"

His throat thickened and he strove to clear it. "I'm saying you push yourself too hard. You don't take care of yourself. Maybe because you've never had anyone really look out for you."

Her expression softened. And the slight quiver to her lips had panic streaking up his spine. But her voice when it came was teasing rather than shaky.

"You haven't offered me dessert yet. If you want to follow me back to my motel room here, I'll let you leg wrestle me for rights to the whole cookie."

Feeling on safer ground now, he pretended to consider the offer. "Will you be naked?"

"That can be arranged."

"Then lead the way."

The Landview was a step up from the McKenzie Motel, but it wasn't the amenities that held Zach's interest as he followed Cait into the darkened room. A decent man would leave her to get some rest. No one knew better than he did the hours she'd kept today. After very little sleep the night before.

Learning he wasn't that man wasn't the biggest disappointment he'd ever experienced. But he had a feeling leaving her alone tonight might come close.

Hormones, simmering the entire time they'd been together, flared to instant painful life as she snapped on the light on the bedside table. Spending time with her was a balm to nerves that had been rubbed raw by the events of the day. There was more than a little discomfit in the realization that his need for her was owed more than just to the physical.

She turned to face him, found him watching her. And he saw the exact instant when the easy confidence she usually wore turned to something more tentative. He said what was in his head without thought to how it would sound. "I don't think about beauty much, but it catches me by surprise sometimes. The way sunlight hits the water when I'm paddling. The view of a sunset backdropped against the forest." He stopped a moment, considered the way her eyes had gone huge and dark. "When it comes to people, there's just genes, lucky or unlucky. But I don't think I've seen anything as lovely as you tonight, sitting on your car, bathed in moonlight. I thought you should know that."

Her smile flickered a little. "You've got a sure thing here, Sharper. You don't need compliments to win me over."

"I know." Because he had a hunger to touch her again, he strode rapidly toward her. "That's why I waited until now to say it."

Her gaze was widening when his arms closed around her. And it pleased him, somehow, that he'd surprised her.

That first contact, curves against muscle, was briefly satisfying. But his thirst for her ignited, as if it hadn't been quenched only that morning. He pressed his mouth against hers in a slow thorough kiss that had the blood flas.h.i.+ng and strobing in his veins. And recognized again just how difficult it would be to get his fill of her.

She gave, more than he would have expected. There was a measure of trust in that, he thought. Hoped. A woman didn't wait between partners as long as he suspected she had only to take a man into her bed lightly. Her lips parted, and when his tongue swept in her mouth, she met it with hers, a long teasing glide. It was enough for a few moments to just kiss her. To allow the flavor of her to kick his system to life. But it didn't satisfy for long. Not when there was the memory of all that sleek skin now hidden by jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt. The promise of softness encased in lace beneath the functional clothing.

He'd take his time, get his fill. Scoring her bottom lip with his teeth, he had the thought, though his body called him a liar. With one hand he grasped the bottom of her s.h.i.+rt and drew it up and over her head. Then visually feasted, breath held, at the vision she presented.

The lace was ivory this time, covering skin nearly the same color. Her nipples were already taut, and he couldn't resist brus.h.i.+ng one lightly, even as his free hand went to the waistband of her jeans. He stripped them down her legs, pausing to remove her shoes before smoothing his lips up the silky expanse of skin he'd revealed. And felt his heart lurch in his chest.

Her matching panties were cut high on her legs, and had a narrow expanse of satin on each side, holding the lace panels together. "My compliments to the maker of your lingerie. He-or she-should be wors.h.i.+ped as a G.o.d."

Her smile was slow, and secret, and female. "And here I'd have pegged you for an agnostic."

Going to his knees before her, he cupped her silky calves in his palms, marveling at the toned muscle beneath the softness. She was a lot like that. Steel beneath the surface. A person might underestimate her if the surface was all they saw. He had a feeling if they did, they'd regret it.

Leaning forward, he traced the shadow of her mons where he could see it through the fabric. Felt her legs jerk against him and heard her hissed in breath. The signs of her response pleased him. And feeling totally in control, he leaned forward for a closer contact.

He dampened the lace with his tongue, while his fingers traced the crease of her thighs, making teasing little forays under the edge of the elastic. Her fingers stabbed into his hair and clutched almost painfully. And he could feel restraint eddying away, making a liar of his earlier intentions.

There was a moment when he thought to recapture it. An instant when he really thought it was possible to harness the hunger that snarled and snapped inside him like a wild beast. He drew away just enough to hook the panties with his finger and drag them down her legs before closing the distance between them again and tasting warm damp flesh without the barrier of fabric between them. And knew, as he traced the seam of her folds with the tip of his tongue, the futility of that hope.

He savored and sampled and savaged, while his control teetered alarmingly. She was dark fire beneath his lips, her scent and flavor whipping his pulse to a frantic pace. Every jerk of her hips, every clench of her fingers drove him just a little mad. He was ruthless in his feasting, determined to wring every last sigh and moan.

Cupping her b.u.t.t in his hands, he brought her closer. It should have alarmed him to discover the woman was like a fever in his blood, throwing everything he thought he knew about himself in disarray. But he relished the hunger that raged through him, the demand for this female. All of her. Everything she'd give and everything she'd seek to hold back. And when she shattered under his lips, when her body trembled and shook, a desperate primal need rose inside him that only she could quench.

Rising, he rid her of the bra. More quickly than he'd planned. With less finesse. And swept her up in his arms and on the bed in two quick seconds before stripping with awkward, clumsy haste and fumbling for protection.

There was a roaring in his ears, a fire in his gut that would only be alleviated by this woman. It surged through his system, trailing heat in its wake. He was trying to feed an appet.i.te that couldn't be a.s.suaged. He couldn't touch her enough. Taste her enough. He stroked and smoothed her trembling flesh, pausing to kiss and nip at her flushed skin. Explore the dip of her waist. The slope of her breast. The curve of her shoulder. And when his mouth found hers again, a primitive sense of possessiveness flared.

This kind of greed was new. The sort that gnawed through every attempt at control until there was only need, edgy and fierce. Their kiss grew more frenzied as his blood lunged recklessly through his veins like an uncaged animal. He tun neled his hand through her hair, used his other to cup her breast, flicked at the nipple that was taut and beaded.

His brain was hazed with desire. And there was a tightening in his groin that warned him that restraint was rapidly spirally away. He could feel her nails on his shoulders, the slight sting fanning the fire that was raging hotter and hotter inside him. The silky glide of her leg along his.

Somehow he managed the strength to tear his mouth away. To open his eyes and try to recapture a measure of control. But the sight of her in the soft spill of light from the lamp had his hormones howling in a primal quest for fulfillment.

Her skin glowed with an ivory sheen, several shades lighter than his. The long dark hair fell away from the perfect oval of her face. Her lips were full, wet, and slightly parted. And her eyes . . . when she dragged them open were drugged and drenched with pleasure.

Demand pounded through him, wouldn't be denied. He reached for restraint, found it depleted. Eyes fixed on hers, he nudged a knee between her legs to urge them wider. And nearly disgraced himself when her hand settled around him, guiding him to her damp softness.

He gritted his teeth with the effort it took to hold back when all he wanted was to lunge into her. Quick, hard, and deep. Perspiration dampened his forehead. His breath was ragged. He entered her with one long stroke that had them releasing a mingled groan.

And felt, strangely enough, at peace.

But the instant of calm was shattered in the next moment when her legs climbed his hips to wrap around his waist. And the evidence of her urgency reignited his own. He began to move, carefully at first, but then with increasing desperation. He thrust into her, possessed by a fierce intent. To brand himself on her so completely she could never forget.

But as his vision hazed, as the blood pounded in his ears, he recognized dimly that he was caught in his own trap. The need skyrocketed in his veins, matching the pace of his hips as they jackhammered against hers.

And knew, even as the climax ripped through him, that it was he who would never forget.

"It's late."

"Technically, since you haven't opened your eyes yet, you can't possibly know that." Zach pressed a stinging kiss to her throat that made her shudder, before tonguing the sting lightly.

Her back was to the alarm clock. But when she cracked one eye open slightly, she could see the light edging the shades on the window. And gave a mental sigh. It was at least seven, if she didn't miss her guess. Well past the time she needed to be up and moving about, readying for the day.

But the man beside her obviously had other ideas. His erection nudged insistently against her belly. And the way the hand on her waist slipped to her b.u.t.t wasn't exactly innocent.

"If you're going in to work today wearing the same clothes from last night you're going to have to do the walk of shame." The thought had her lips curving before she pressed them to one of his firm pecs.

"Women do the walk of shame." His hand slid to her breast and lightly sc.r.a.ped the nipple with his nail, making her shudder. "Men strut."

She gave an ungentle tug to his chest hair. Was satisfied to see him wince. "Not if their 'strutter' is broken."

"That sounded suspiciously like a threat." With a quick and sneaky move he rolled to his back, bringing her with him and settling her on top of him. His eyes gleamed up at her, filled with sleepy male satisfaction. "Since I know you have a weapon close by and I'm unarmed, I'm obviously at your mercy. Do your worst."

She studied him from beneath lowered lids, duty warring with desire. The battle was unfamiliar. For the last several years duty had always been foremost. First with school, then her job.

But it had been a long time since she'd been presented with temptation the likes of Zach Sharper.

She slid down his body slowly, antic.i.p.ation thrumming in her veins. She took his shaft in her hands and flicked delicately at its tip with her tongue. "I certainly intend to."

It was telling that Cait spent the drive to the morgue trying to figure a way to divert Kristy's attention once she arrived. The last thing she wanted was to have another conversation about "the s.e.x glow" the woman claimed to be able to detect on her face. Because she was very much afraid that she looked exactly the way she felt . . . loose, satisfied, and intensely female.

It seemed that spending a night wrapped around Zach Sharper had that effect on her.

But as she was pulling in to the morgue parking lot, a more pressing concern arose when her cell rang. Reaching one-handed to withdraw it from her purse, she saw the LA prefix on the screen and considered allowing it to go straight to voice mail. It wasn't Lydia's number, but she could be calling from a different phone. She was tenacious when she wanted something and had called almost daily since their last conversation.

All of the messages she'd left had been deleted.

Nudging aside the p.r.i.c.kle of guilt at the thought, she took a chance and answered it on the third ring. She couldn't risk missing a job-related call on the off chance that her mother had found a new way to reach out and nag her. "Caitlin Fleming." She parked the SUV and dropped the keys into her purse before getting out of the vehicle.

"Fleming, this is Detective Richard Gomez, LAPD. You left me a message a few days ago about a missing persons case of mine. Sorry about the delay. I just closed a homicide investigation that was sucking up all my time."

Her steps faltered a moment before adrenaline kicked in and quickened her pace. "I did call. You were the detective listed on a case regarding Paul Livingston, three years ago."