Bring the Heat (19 page)

After Austin left Taylor at the hospital, his next stop was Spanky's, located in downtown Nashville, home of the weirdoes. A mix of the eclectic and extremely dangerous. If you couldn't find a drunk, pimp, pusher, whore, or rising music star in this part of the city, you had your eyes closed. More flavors than Baskin-Robbins, but a smart person wouldn't take a lick of anything this garbage heap had to offer.

Downtown didn't attract that many smart people.

Austin parked his truck under a burned-out streetlamp in the lot next to Spanky's, saying a prayer that he'd find it there when he came out. The idea of being stranded in this part of town at night without a ride gave him the willies.

So did the interior of Spanky's. Upon entering, guests were treated to a sign proudly boasting “Spank-a-Thons” held every Friday and Saturday night. The person who drank the most beer was punished—or rewarded—by Spanky's owner, an experienced dominatrix. The lucky winner got up on the stage and bent over bare-assed to receive his or her spanking in front of the audience.

“Thank God today's Thursday,” Austin muttered, peering into the pitch-black cave. “Holy sheep shit.”

Every surface—the walls, ceiling, and floors—was painted black. He suspected the major advantage and disadvantage of this charming motif was the same—he couldn't see a damn thing.

But Jesus, he felt his boots sticking to the floor as he paid the cover charge and found a crooked table in an equally depressing corner. Back to the wall, he let his eyes adjust, scanning the gloom.

The motley crowd was thin, but even on a weeknight the activity would pick up after nine thirty. Like a bunch of beady-eyed cockroaches coming out of the woodwork after everyone's asleep, he thought.
And what does that make me? Pest control?

“Rainey! What gives?”

Austin peered at the advancing figure, but he didn't need a spotlight to know who was barreling toward him. “Thanks, Frankie. I was feeling
way
too inconspicuous.”

Grinning, Blair took a seat without an invite. “Right. Like you don't stick out or anything.” He rolled his eyes. “God, you're so vanilla in a place like this. All uptight in your cowboy threads, sitting over here like you've got a broomstick up your ass . . . or a nice big—”

“Spare me the creative analogies.”

“Oh, what
ever
. Anybody who recognizes you will know what you're doing here, including Mr. Mega-Looney. What? You honestly thought the killer wouldn't know you're scouting for him? Or maybe you
thought he'd just walk right up and introduce himself?”

“Goddamn.” Austin rubbed his eyes, then stopped, lowering his hand to stare at Blair.

From the beginning, he'd noticed that Frankie was exceptionally pretty for a guy, gay or not. In drag, the man would make a knockout woman. He wasn't quite tall enough to fit the description of their suspect, but in heels? Maybe.

And so what? The description had come from
Frankie
. What if he'd made it up?

Blair's smile died. “What?”

Austin cocked his head. “What are you doing here? Your usual hangout is Junior's, right?”

“It is, and like I said, I don't usually come here often, but—” He sighed heavily. “To be honest, Rick was supposed to meet me here an hour ago.”

“You said you were done with Rick.”

He made a face. “Well, I'm stupid. What can I say? As you can see, I got stood up. Again. I'm a pushover, or at least I was. I'm finally done, though.”

Two inconsistencies from what he'd told Austin before—being here and supposedly meeting Rick. Was Frankie lying?

“Man, I'm sorry. That sucks. I suppose I'll let you off the hook for not lying low like Danny told you.”

“Thanks. Guess I'm a slow learner.”

Austin turned Blair's words over. At some point, maybe his stalker
had
introduced himself. “Frankie, I need to ask you a few questions.”

The other man eyed him warily. “Uh-oh. That sounds all official.”

“No, if it was, I'd take you into the station.”

“Like
that's
supposed to be comforting.”

“Frankie, have you ever cross-dressed?”

“Ooh, you're filling my heart with hope, Rainey,” he quipped. “Thinking of switching sides?”

“You wish. Just answer the question.”

“Kidding.” Sensing the seriousness of Austin's curiosity, he sobered. “No, I've never done that. Cross-dressing isn't my thing.”

“Do you work out?” he asked, trying to assess the man's possible strength. Could he have strangled his victims?

“Some,” the younger man said. “I'm no gym bunny, but I stay fit. I run a couple of mornings a week.”

“Did you know a man named Derek Thompson?”

“No. Should I?” A frown marred Frankie's brow, then cleared as he gaped at Austin. “Wait a second. Are you—do you think I'm a suspect?”

“You're not an official suspect, Frankie. I'm just following up every possible lead I can,” he said smoothly.

“Oh my God! That's why you're asking me these questions! You think I could do that? Kill people? I could never,” he gasped, horrified.

“I don't want to think that. But I wouldn't have the track record I do if I believed everything people told me.” He gave Frankie an apologetic smile. He truly liked the man and his instincts said this wasn't his killer.

“I get it, I do. But what I told you is the truth.”
Frankie leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “I saw Matt leaving here with a woman, or someone dressed as a woman, the night he was killed. I never saw him after that. The person Matt was with seemed familiar.”

“You've mentioned that before. How so? Anything come to mind?”

“I'm not sure. I can't shake the feeling I've seen her, or him, somewhere before. There was something in her walk, her mannerisms, you know?”

“Yeah. Anything else?”

“No. I'm sorry.”

“That's all right. Anything more you think of, call me.”

“Will do.”

One thing was for sure: he couldn't picture exuberant, likable Frankie as secretly twisted and in need of personal revenge against
him
. Dressing up to lure and kill people.

“Hey, how's Danny? When you see him, give him my best, okay? He seemed like a great guy.”

“I'll tell him.”

“And that medical examiner, too. She's your lady?” Blair asked.

Austin's gaze snapped to his. “How did you know that?”

“I saw your picture in the paper with her, and so did half the metroplex. Chill.”

He raked a shaking hand through his hair, willing himself to calm down. “Of course. I'm on edge, to put it mildly. Yes, she's mine, and I plan on making it permanent when this shit is over.”

“Good for you. I hope everything works out.”

“Yeah, me, too. Thanks.”

Blair made small talk for a few more minutes, then rose to leave, making Austin promise to keep in touch. Reminding him to say hello to Danny. Austin reassured him on both counts. Hell, he liked the guy. Maybe they'd even become friends.

He sat for a long time after Frankie left, watching the swelling crowd. All sorts of characters from the average barfly to strange and downright dangerous. Pick your flavor.

But no sense of menace, of imminent threat. No one overtly staring, or approaching him. As Frankie had said, what had he expected?
Excuse me, sir. I'll be your killer this evening
.

Yet he'd taken the bait once before. He'd lured two men from this bar, for God's sake. And his control was disintegrating into frenzied impulse.

Two hours later, eyes and lungs burning from the thick buildup of cigarette smoke, Austin called it a night. He checked his watch and groaned. After eleven. The drive back would put him home close to midnight, running on no sleep.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he had trouble staying awake. He pulled into the three-car garage and parked, hitting the button on his key chain to close the automatic door. Dead exhausted, he trudged inside, then remembered he hadn't checked the mailbox at the end of the drive in two days. Screw it, he'd walk out there tomorrow.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, a pair of arms slid
around his waist and a soft kiss was pressed against his neck.

“I'm glad you're home.”

Turning, he gathered Laura to him and held on as though she was a life raft. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, loving her scent, the warmth of her pressed against him.

“I missed you,” she breathed.

“Missed you, too. This is a nice surprise.” Tilting her face up, he kissed her, slowly and thoroughly. When they came up for air, she worked a hand underneath his shirt and rubbed his chest.

“Well, I did tell you I'd be waiting. Remember?”

He smiled. “That you did. It's just been a hell of a long day.”

“I'm sorry,” she said in sympathy. “Want to talk about it?”

Holding her close, he snorted. “Let's see. I got blasted by Glenn for the picture I leaked of us to the paper, and I got no leads on our killer, including a visit with Frankie that produced nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I went by Spanky's and he was there, presumably to meet a guy who keeps giving him the runaround. The guy stood him up, so we had a talk. I honestly don't think he's my murderer. That man doesn't have an ounce of hate in his body.”

“I trust you. You've been doing this a long time and you have a feel for these things.”

Her confidence meant a lot to him, especially when his own was sort of low. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
Lowering his head, he gave her a slow kiss. After they parted, he said, “Oh, and I went to see Taylor. He was awake and hoping to go home soon.”

“That's wonderful news!”

“The best.”

“That calls for a celebration. Unless you're too tired?”

He smiled. “I'm
never
too tired to demonstrate just how well you revive me.”

With a grin, he tugged her into his bedroom. They shed their clothes in a hurry, but instead of leading her toward the bed, he got a different idea.

“Turn around and grab onto the post.”

Her brows arched, but she smiled back at him. “Really?”

“And spread your legs, too.”

Humming in appreciation of the idea, she walked over to the footboard and gripped one of the posts, hand over hand. Then she braced her feet apart, stuck her rear out enticingly, and gave him a sultry look.

“Like this?”

“Exactly like that,” he growled. His cock thickened and rose to brush against his belly.

“You're a kinky boy, Captain.”

“I can be.”

“Lucky me.”

“No, lucky
me
,” he assured her, dropping to his knees.

Moving in close, he ran his palms down the outside of her smooth thighs. Her tantalizing rump hovered in
front of his face, and he couldn't resist a few kisses. A nip, too, which made her jump and giggle.

Next he leaned in and spent some time savoring her sweet sex. Parting the lips, he licked her slowly, doing his best to drive her crazy. She moaned, widening her stance, so he figured he was doing a good job.

His fingers joined his tongue, working her channel relentlessly, and soon she was writhing, begging for more.

“Please!”

No point in making them both wait. Pushing to his feet, he got into position behind her, gripping her hip to steady her with one hand. With the other, he guided himself into her welcoming heat, moaning.

“God, you feel so good around me,” he murmured.

“Fuck me, Austin.”

Those words, his name falling from her lips, boiled his blood in the best way. Set him on fire. As he began to thrust inside her again and again, he knew he wouldn't last long.

It was too good. The closeness, the passion. With Laura, the woman he'd wanted forever.

And now she was his.

Unable to hold back, he shuddered with his release. Filled her. With a cry, she joined him, reaching back to clutch his hair. Turning her head, she claimed his mouth as they came down together.

“Shower?” she asked, when they were spent.

“Sounds like heaven.”

Reluctantly he pulled out of her. But the hot shower was worth it, and so was the shower gel fight they
engaged in. It took ages to get all the soap out of their hair.

Once they were dried off, Laura blew her hair dry and then climbed into bed, where he was waiting. Opening his arms, he pulled her close. He was sleepy, but she was still wide awake for some reason, playing with his chest hair and giving a sigh now and then.

“Okay, what's wrong?”

Finally, she sat up next to him. Her expression was serious, and a premonition of dread coiled through him.

“I have something to tell you, and it's not the best timing.”

Slightly alarmed, he sat up as well and took her hand. “What is it?”

“Austin . . . I'm pregnant.”

“I— You're what?” he said stupidly. He stared at her, scrambling to comprehend.

“I'm pregnant with your baby.” She bit her lip, waiting. Even in the darkness, he could see the glistening of tears in her eyes. “Say something, please.”

“What do you want me to say?” All he could focus on was the fear. With the fear came the anger. “I'm not even over grieving for my son and you're telling me you're pregnant? I don't
want
another baby.”

“This baby would never replace the one you lost, but—”

“Lost? I didn't
lose
him—he was murdered,” Austin seethed. “Nothing can make the agony go away, ever. How am I supposed to go through that again? How could you do that to me?”

She couldn't have appeared more shocked if he had punched her in the face. With a sob, she slid from the bed and stood gazing down at him, a tear tracing a path down her face.