See Jane Die (25 page)

“She's sleeping,” the nurse murmured. “Dr. Nash is with her.”

Dave was here?
How, Stacy wondered, had he heard?

Stacy moved down the quiet hallway. From one room came soft snoring, from another, someone moaning in their sleep. She found Jane's door cracked open. She eased it farther open with her fingertips. To the soft glow of the night-light, she saw that Jane was, indeed, asleep.

And that Dave was by her side.

He sat in a chair beside the bed, shoulders slumped, head in his hands. She opened her mouth to call softly to him, then shut it as she realized the truth.

Dave was in love with Jane
.

Stacy had suspected as much on many occasions. Now she knew it was true. To his credit, he had never let it get in the way of their friendship. He had been there for Jane through good times and bad, had supported, counseled and laughed with her. With them both. He had even agreed to walk her down the aisle. Without a father, grandfather or uncle, Jane had turned to the man she considered her oldest and best friend.

It must have been agony for him. How had he managed to hide his feelings so well?

Uncomfortable with the realization, Stacy backed wordlessly out of the room.

Friday, November 7, 2003
4:00 a.m
.

S
tacy left the hospital, her thoughts on Dave and his feelings for Jane. How long had he loved her? she wondered. Why hadn't he ever expressed his feelings? Had he feared rejection? Or losing her sister's friendship and trust?

She crossed the parking lot. Her Bronco came into view.

Her steps faltered. Her heart began to thunder.

Mac stood beside the SUV. Waiting for her
.

He looked up. Their gazes met. Awareness moved over her.

She closed the distance between them, using the moments to ground herself. “Mac,” she managed, when she reached him, “did you forget something?”

“Yes. This.” He dragged her to his chest and brought his mouth to hers.

Stacy froze, shocked. In the next instant, hunger replaced surprise and passion exploded inside her.

He dropped a hand to the small of her back and fitted her body against his. His other hand cupped the back of her head. Beneath her palm his heart beat wildly. She curled her fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt.

Fear, indecision and grief slipped away with the pressure
of his mouth on hers. With the stroke of his tongue, the movement of his fingers along her spine.

He broke away. “I've wanted to do that…God, for weeks.”

Pleased, she cupped his face in her palms. “So why wait so long to do it again?”

She drew his mouth back to hers. A car pulled into the parking lot; the headlights' bright beams sliced across them.

He pulled away, panting. “My place?”

“Where—”

“Not far.”

“Yes, yours. I'll drive my—”

“No.” He kissed her again. “You might change your mind.”

“I won't. I couldn't—”

“Promise?”

She did and fumbled for her keys. She found them. Hands shaking, she unlocked the door and slipped inside. Jamming the key into the ignition, she twisted it. The engine roared to life.

And doubt washed her. What was she thinking? One careless act and she catapulted from a crackerjack detective to a bimbo. Just like that.

Don't think, Stacy. For once, just go for it
.

He wanted her. She wanted him.

She wanted not to be alone.

Stacy followed him. They drove recklessly, weaving around the few vehicles on the road, gunning through yellow lights. They made his place in minutes, stumbled up the walk and inside. The moment the door was closed and locked behind them, they fell into each others arms.

They undressed each other as they made their way to the bedroom, tugging and tearing at garments, removing holsters and service weapons, sighing as, finally, flesh met flesh.

They reached the bed, fell onto it. Their mating was raw, passion edged with desperation. As if the act had taken on some heightened importance, a kind of ferocity she didn't understand but reacted to instinctively.

And afterward, regrets rained down on her. She had slept
with her partner. Broken one of her own cardinal rules. Opened herself to criticism, speculation and gossip.

Dammit
. She rolled away from him and stared up at the ceiling.

“Stop it, Stacy” he murmured. “No second-guessing.”

“Easy for you to say. Unlike me, you have nothing to lose here.”

“I don't see it that way.” He reached across the rumpled sheet and curved his fingers around her arm. “We wanted each other. We care for each other. What's the down side?”

“You're being deliberately naive. We're
partners
, Mac. Female detectives who sleep with their partners lose credibility. And you know it.”

“You're assuming I'm going to brag. That pisses me off.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

At the challenge in his tone, she looked at him. She believed him, she realized. That he meant what he said. That he would keep his promise.

Until, for whatever reason, this fling was over and his ego needed a boost. She had seen it happen time and again. She had thought the women who had allowed themselves to be put in that position were stupid and weak-willed. She had promised herself she never would.

And here she was.

“Stacy—” He ever so gently turned her face to his. “This is between us. It's not about anyone else, not for anyone's else's ears or entertainment.” He lowered his voice. “I won't let anyone hurt you. Trust me.”

She wanted to. More, maybe, than she had ever wanted anything.

The seconds ticked past. He trailed his thumb tenderly across her cheekbone, down to her mouth. She trembled, the response involuntary, shocking as it spoke to the depth of her passion.

“Do you want me to say I'm sorry?” he asked.

She opened her mouth; nothing came out. Truth was, she didn't want him to be sorry. She wished for him to say the
opposite. That what they'd shared had been special. Important. That he would be with her again, their jobs be damned.

And then her wish came true.

“I won't do it, Stacy. Because I'm not sorry.” A smile touched his mouth. “I'm damn glad, actually. So there. What are you going to do about it?”

“Maybe I'll be the one to brag.”

“Think it'll boost your image in the department?”

“You bet. Another conquest for Killian. What a stud.”

He smiled and drew her fully against him. His arousal pressed against her belly. “You are good. I'd vouch for that.”

She eased her hand between them, found him and squeezed. “Maybe I should prove it?”

“Oh, no you don't.” Lightening quick, he had her on her back, arms pinned above her head. “My turn.”

Friday, November 7, 2003
7:10 a.m
.

S
tacy awakened to the sound of Mac's deep, rhythmic breathing. She checked the clock and saw that it was still early, just after seven. She slipped quietly out of bed, careful not to disturb him. She spotted a stack of folded laundry and crossed to it. After selecting a big, soft T-shirt, she padded to the bathroom. She relieved herself, then cleaned up, using toothpaste on her finger to brush her teeth.

Peering into the mirror, she smiled. Not too bad for almost no sleep. And she felt almost…refreshed.

Orgasms: nature's answer to stress and sleep deprivation
.

Turning from the mirror, she left the bathroom and tiptoed out of the bedroom, collecting her hastily discarded garments from the night before as she did. She folded them, her thoughts turning to food. And coffee.

She padded toward the kitchen, taking time to notice things she had missed the night before: that Mac could use a housekeeper, that he enjoyed nice things, and that he collected old movie posters.
That
surprised her.

She stopped in front of a framed poster from
Rebel
Without a Cause
, on the opposite wall hung one from
On the Waterfront
and
The Godfather
.

She ducked into the kitchen. Black-and-white-tile counters and vintage glass-fronted cabinets dated the kitchen to the fifties. Mac, like her, was a coffee drinker. Thank God. She found a pound of beans, the grinder and filters and had a pot brewing in no time.

Food, she realized as she peered into the refrigerator, would be more difficult.

“Morning, beautiful.”

She looked over her shoulder. Mac stood in the kitchen doorway, looking sleepy and satisfied. He was buck naked. He held her shoulder holster and service weapon, a Glock 40, police issue, fifteen-round semi-automatic. “You forgot your gun.”

She laughed and took the pistol. “My Walton and Johnson.”

“Excuse me?”

“Instead of a Smith & Wesson. Jane got confused.”

“You carry a Glock.”

“She doesn't know that. The only gun she'd ever heard of was a Smith & Wesson. It stuck. By the way, I like your pj's.”

He grinned. “Thanks. That's my favorite T-shirt, by the way.”

“May I borrow it?”

“If I say no, will you take it off?”

“Not until after my first cup of coffee. Sorry. A girl's got to draw the line somewhere. Food would be nice, too.”

“Demanding
and
bossy.”

She turned back to the open fridge. “You're such a guy. There's nothing in here but beer and leftover pizza.”

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle. “What else do you need?”

“Eggs? Juice? Bread?”

“Pizza is a perfect food. It's got it all. Meat. Grain. Dairy. Vegetable.”

“Fat.” She opened the box. “I see nothing that represents a vegetable here.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Tomato sauce. Made from tomatoes, a vegetable.”

“Tomatoes have seeds. They're fruit.”

He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Figured you'd say that.”

“And why's that?”

“For the same reason I have nothing but pizza and beer in my fridge.”

She turned, looped her arms around his neck. “Because you're a beer-guzzling Neanderthal.”

“Pretty much. And you're a lady who crosses all her t's and dots all her i's.”

He rubbed his pelvis against hers. He was rock hard already.
Coffee be damned
. “I see you brought your gun,” she murmured, smiling against his mouth. “But are you prepared to use it?”

With a husky laugh, he picked her up and carried her to the kitchen table. There, he showed her that he was, indeed, prepared.

 

After they had both showered, Stacy reheated the pizza despite Mac's insistence that it was a delicacy cold. They washed it down with coffee and Stacy had to grudgingly admit, the combination wasn't bad.

Reaching for a second slice, Stacy broached the subject foremost on her mind. “Jane has a theory about the guy sending her the anonymous threats.”

He met her gaze, slice of pie paused halfway to his mouth.

“She believes he's the one who killed Vanmeer, Tanner and, now, Lisette Gregory.”

“Sounds like a stretch to me.”

“I know. But what if she's right?”

For a long moment he simply stared at her. “Tell me you're joking, Stacy. You can't possibly believe that this boat driver from sixteen years ago has not only popped back into her life, but returned with an elaborate plan that included a triple murder?”

When she didn't reply, he snorted with disbelief.
“Educate me here. He's done this for what purpose? To terrorize her? And he couldn't have done this without offing those three women? Come on. More likely, Ian has an accomplice lover sending the notes. Anticipating Jane's reaction. Hoping she'll be able to divert attention from him.”

He was right. Dammit
. She had wanted to believe it, for Jane. Because her sister needed it so badly.

Stacy lowered her gaze to her plate and the remnants of her pizza, preparing her thoughts, wondering just how honest she should be. She decided to shoot for the moon. “I was jealous of her. Resentful of her perfect life. Her husband. Career. Baby on the way. I suppose I thought, why not me?

“And now, she's—” She drew in a deep breath, met his gaze evenly. “I was wrong to feel that way. It was hateful. Small and selfish.”

“It was natural,” he corrected her, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. “We're human. Not perfect.”

“Human or not, it wasn't fair to her. I blamed her for her happiness. Jane needed me and I wasn't there for her.”

He tossed the crumpled toweling onto the plate. “You want something from me, Stacy. What is it?”

“This isn't about what I want from you. It's about what I owe Jane. If she believes this, I'm going to check it out. With or without you.”

“Captain will have our asses if he finds out what we're up to.”

She smiled. “He can have mine. I don't need it.”

He laughed without humor. “Okay, Stacy. I'm your partner and we're in this together.”