Dangerous Kisses (10 page)

"Sydney?" Jake’s voice came strong and insistent through the door, but she still checked the peephole before unlocking the deadbolt and letting him in.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing." The anger in Jake’s voice seemed poised to explode like a time bomb. "We did determine where the phone call came from. A pay phone in front of the post office on Donelson."

"But that’s a couple of miles from here. He wasn’t even within view of the apartment when he called."

"He must have driven by, then moved out of the area to make the call."

"Are there surveillance cameras on that parking lot?"

"Only one, but the light doesn’t extend to the edge of the parking lot where the phone is. And no cars were in the parking lot when the call was made."

"He walked?"

"That or parked elsewhere."

She turned and stalked across the room in frustration. "Why couldn’t he be one of those dumb criminals who get themselves caught by their own stupidity?"

"We are collecting the money from the phone to see if we get lucky and can lift a set of prints of someone who matches the profile when it comes back. Or maybe someone’s got a record."

He didn’t sound confident. Hundreds of people could have handled the same coins. And from what she’d learned about the killer so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d donned latex gloves to make the call.

She turned back toward Jake and wanted to walk into his arms for comfort. But he offered no such comfort. The lines of his face pulled tight, and his muscles seemed ready to spring into action. His adrenaline rush hadn’t yet subsided.

The tension filling the air between them became uncomfortable.

"Jake, I—"

"I need to get some sleep," he said as he rubbed a hand over his face. "So do you. Don’t go outside until I check things out."

She bit down on the disappointment and anger surging through her. The side of himself Jake had shown her before the phone call had disappeared, retreated somewhere behind that cold exterior he’d hidden behind since she’d met him. And she mourned the loss of the Jake she’d seen so briefly.

As he headed toward the couch, she asked, "Did it mean nothing?"

She watched as a sigh lifted then lowered his shoulders. "I’m sorry."

He said nothing more, leaving her standing there like a fool with no explanation, no answer to the one question gnawing away at her. Was he sorry he couldn’t offer her more or sorry what had passed between them had ever happened?

Either way, she would have to live with a new hole in her life, one she realized she wanted filled with the most frustrating man she’d ever met.

She picked up her laptop and retreated to her bedroom. She might as well finish the article because she sure wasn’t going to be able to sleep.

When she shut her bedroom door, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. How had her nicely controlled life become such a mass of confusion? She should have stayed in Montana.

Jake stepped into the hallway at the back of the criminal justice building, hoping none of his colleagues were in. Despite a quick shower and clean clothes, he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. He’d done nothing but toss and turn when he’d returned to the couch, leaving Sydney with questions and hurt burning in her eyes. His mind had tossed and turned as much as his body — one minute dissecting the case, the next examining his frightening feelings for Sydney.

He hadn’t known what to expect from Sydney this morning after the way he’d brushed her off the night before, but her casual indifference had been worse than a tirade. She hadn’t responded to his attempts at conversation with more than a few words, pretending nothing had happened between them. Maybe that was for the best.

Despite his hope to have some solitude in which to work, he was surprised to find the Murder Squad room empty. He crossed to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup of lukewarm coffee. When he sank into his chair, he found a new stack of mail and his voice mail light blinking furiously.

He grabbed the mail from his in box, chucking a third of it into the trash. When he reached an envelope from the FBI, however, he tossed the rest of the papers aside. His heart rate increased as he slid the contents from the envelope. Maybe the profile would help narrow their search to a point where they could make some decent headway. If they caught this guy, Sydney would be safe.

And he might never see her again.

Well, he was willing to pay that price. It wasn’t as if he was making it easy to see her anyway.

He scanned through the profile, then went back and read it more carefully. White male, early 20s to early 40s, intelligent, likely follows press coverage of his crimes.

Jake tensed as he thought of Sydney’s byline on all that coverage. He continued reading.

Victims likely strangers or casual acquaintances. Although it’s probably not apparent in his everyday life, he has a deep-seated problem with women.

Jake forced himself to examine the rest of the profile, and his skin crawled more with each sentence.

The signature with the chocolates and the posing of the victims in the nude is his final act of control over the women he kills. The similar physical description of victims indicates they are a substitute for someone in his past who hurt him or angered him to a point he swore revenge. But none of the victims are the person he’s looking for so he doesn’t find lasting satisfaction and continues to kill. All actions indicate he falls into the organized serial killer category.

After reading through the profile a third time, Jake tossed it onto his desk. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand over his face. Hell, what did he know now that he hadn’t ten minutes ago? Excluding the signature specifics, which still didn’t give him a lead on the guy’s identity, the profile basics fit the majority of serial killers across the country. Still, he should run it past Sydney, see if by some miracle the dry facts caused something to click in her head.

He dialed her number but only got her voice mail, a new, nondescript greeting. "I’m not here. Leave a message." She sure sounded perturbed. He wondered if it was because of him.

Figuring she was on her way to work, he decided to call her there. But when he lifted the receiver to his ear, he decided to punch the voice mail button first. That blinking red light drove him crazy.

After jotting down messages on a couple of other cases and one from his mother, he froze. The killer’s muffled voice assaulted him.

"Hello, Radley. Did you have a nice time beating the bushes for me?"

Jake’s blood ran cold. The bastard had been out there, watching Sydney even when she thought she was safe. His stomach churned at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been at her apartment.

A pause made Jake wonder if the killer was finished speaking, but then the man’s disguised voice came again, angrier than before.

"I don’t know what they see in men like you, the ones who think they’re God’s gift to women. But you haven’t had her yet, have you?" A low chuckle sent shivers racing across Jake’s skin. "I will."

The call ended so suddenly, Jake jumped.

"Hey, man, what’s wrong?" O’Malley’s voice from behind him made him jump again.

For a moment, Jake stared like an idiot at Kevin, trying to let what he’d just heard soak in. Instead of answering, he simply replayed the message, this time on speaker.

"Damn," Kevin said when the message finished. "This guy is messed up."

"I have a feeling his patience is running thin."

Kevin sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. "Is there something going on between you and Sydney?"

"No."

"Are you sure about that? Sounds like our guy knows something I don’t."

"Trust me, nothing’s going on," Jake said in a curt response that invited no further questioning.

"Whatever you say." Kevin slid off the desk. "What are you going to do? We already have her under watch. You can’t exactly take her into protective custody without her permission. And for some reason, I don’t think she’s going to give that."

Maybe all she needed was a little convincing, a narrowing of the options.

"I’ll figure out something."

Jake dialed Sydney’s cell phone only to get a busy signal. No surprise there. She was probably already hard at work running down leads before she even made it to the office.

Maybe he could beat her there.

As he drove across downtown toward the paper, his gut knotted. Despite his deliberate effort to distance himself from Sydney the night before, he didn’t look forward to the next few minutes. After he did what he felt he had to, she’d likely hate him and he’d never see her again. At least never hold her, kiss her, know what it’d be like to make love to her.

And that was exactly what he’d thought about the previous night as he’d stared at the ceiling from his position on the couch. It had taken all of his willpower not to slip into her room, ask her forgiveness and make love to her until the sun rose. But his foray into the night chasing a killer hiding in the shadows had brought back his common sense. He could have been killed out there, could be gunned down any day like his father had been. And where would that leave Sydney if he allowed her to feel anything for him? She’d already lost her mother to violence. He couldn’t put her through that again.

When he pulled up outside the newspaper office, he hesitated. She might hate him for interfering, but maybe she’d be safe and that was more important.

With a deep breath, he got out of the car and headed across the parking lot.

****

Sydney stared into the snack machine, trying to decide between a somewhat healthy granola bar or the more attractive package of chocolate-covered doughnuts. She dropped her money in and punched the appropriate buttons. Definitely a doughnut morning.

With her doughnuts in one hand and a Coke in the other, she headed for her desk. The only cure for what ailed her this morning was to dive into work and forget Detective Jake Radley had ever walked into her life. She didn’t know why he would kiss her one moment and pretend it hadn’t happened the next, but she didn’t really care about the why. He could eat his reasons for all she cared.

"You missed your boyfriend," Becky said as Sydney walked by her friend’s desk.

"What?"

"Radley, he just left."

Despite her determination to wipe him from her mind, her heart boomed against her chest. "He was here?"

"Yeah. Saw him come out of Bill’s office as I walked in the front door."

Bill? Oh, no. Sydney spun around just in time to see her editor stick his head out of his office and scan the newsroom.

"Sydney, you’re here. Come on in."

What had Jake done? Complained to her boss about her stories? Had she gotten some fact wrong and instead of coming to her, Jake had decided to go over her head to avoid talking to her?

She set her breakfast on the edge of Becky’s desk and headed toward Bill’s office.

She forced a bright cheeriness into her voice she didn’t feel. "Hey, what’s up?"

Bill pointed toward the worn couch against the wall. "Have a seat."

A feeling of foreboding rushed over her as she sank onto the couch. It was reserved for firings, employee reviews and other types of uncomfortable conversations, so whatever Bill had to say now couldn’t be good.

"What’s wrong?"

Bill leaned back in his chair but didn’t look her in the eye. Fidgeting, he appeared as uncomfortable as she felt. "Detective Radley just came to see me."

"If he’s complaining about my coverage of this killer, you know we can’t tiptoe around the issues."

"It wasn’t that exactly."

"What do you mean ‘exactly’?"

Bill made eye contact with her then. "He’s concerned for your safety."

"Jeez, Louise."

"Sydney, is what he told me true? Have you received communications from the killer?"

Her nerves roiled in her stomach. Was Bill angry because she’d held back information he thought she should have reported? Was she being fired after all?

Sydney exhaled and leaned back against the couch. "Yes."

Bill slammed his thick hand against his desk, making Sydney jump. "Damn, why didn’t you tell me? You’re a great reporter, Sydney, but I sure as hell don’t want you putting yourself in that kind of danger."

"I’m careful. Besides, Radley’s got one of Nashville’s finest tailing me everywhere I go."

"Good. And until this guy is caught, I want you off the story. Lord knows there’s enough other crime to report on."

Sydney jerked forward, her face heating and her insides twisting. "You can’t do that."

"I just did. It’s for your own good."

"Did he tell you to pull me? Did that bastard tell you to do this?"

"No. He just wanted me to be aware of the facts so we could alert our building security. This is my decision. Other editors might disagree, but a story is not worth a reporter’s life."

"But I’ve already been targeted. Why does it matter if I keep working on the story?"

Bill held up his hand. "Don’t argue. You can swap stories with someone else."

Just like that, what little control she had over the situation was ripped right out of her grasp. White-hot fury surged through her. She stood. Through clenched teeth, she said, "There’s a story on the network I thought might interest you. Now I don’t know." She stormed from the office aiming to do serious damage to Jake Radley. He might not have suggested her change in assignment, but he’d sure as hell caused it.

"Sydney, what’s wrong?" Becky asked as she caught up to Sydney outside the front door.

Sydney fought to tamp down the anger making her clench her jaw and ball her fists. "Bill took me off the story."

"About the killer? Why?"

"Because Bill’s a wuss."

Becky’s eyes widened. "Was it something Radley said?"

"Oh yeah."

"I can’t imagine Bill caving to the cops. He’s a good journalist, a tough one." When Sydney didn’t answer, just continued to fume, Becky touched her shoulder. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing I can’t fix."

"Stop it." Irritation tinged Becky’s words. "I’m supposed to be your friend. Why don’t you stop hiding things and let me be one?"

Sydney stared at Becky and let a bit of the anger flow away. It would be nice to be able to talk to someone about all the crazy things tying her life in knots, another woman.

She sank onto the concrete bench mainly used by the paper’s smokers and told Becky everything — from the moment she’d met Jake at the crime scene to the scare they’d had the night before. Though her face flamed feverishly hot, she even told Becky about the kisses they’d shared and the confusion Jake had introduced into her normally ordered life.

After she finished, Becky sat speechless for several seconds before responding. "Wow, that’s a lot of stuff to happen in a week."

"Tell me about it."

"I can understand why you’re angry."

"Thank you." Sydney threw her hands up in the air. "Finally, someone with some sense."

"You won’t want to hear this, but I understand Jake’s point of view, too."

"What?"

Becky turned to fully face her. "Think about it. Two women have been killed, it sounds like they don’t have any leads, and the woman he’s at least physically attracted to seems to be next on the list. How do you think that makes him feel?"

"I don’t know."

"Come on, Sydney. You’re a great reporter. I know you can figure this bit of human nature out."

"Okay, okay. I guess he feels a little helpless. But, my God, he’s got a cop watching my every move." She pointed at the patrolman across the street. "He may feel helpless, but I do too. Not to mention trapped. Work was the only thing I had left over which I had any control. Now I don’t even have that. What am I supposed to do?"

"Take Radley to the Bahamas and make love on the beach for a solid week?"

Sydney’s mouth dropped open at her friend’s suggestion. "Have you not heard a word I said? He’s arrogant, pushy and—"

"And sexy as sin. And that voice. Have you ever heard such a rumbling, rolling-in-sheets thing in your life? I think he can satisfy women just by talking to them."

Sydney took a deep breath. "Be that as it may, I have no intention of getting naked anywhere near him."

"That’s a shame."

"Becky, what’s gotten into you?"

"You might not think I’ve been listening, but I have. And it sounds to me like Jake is fighting the same demon you are. You’re both attracted, but for whatever reason you’re afraid to indulge that attraction."

"It wouldn’t go anywhere."

"How will you know if you don’t try?"

"I did, and he walked away."

"Maybe that’s where you can get back some of your control. Refuse to let him walk away."

After Becky went back inside, Sydney sat on the bench a little longer, staring at the cars whizzing by. It scared her how much Becky’s suggestion tempted her. Was she willing to risk her heart, her security, her control in an effort to convince Jake to take a chance with her? How could she tell if he was even interested?

Okay, there were some tender moments and some mighty hot kisses, but those could have been manifested by the moonlight. People acted differently at night only to morph back into their normal selves the next morning.