Truth and Consequences (13 page)

In his throat, his pulse thudded an uncomfortable tattoo. He loosened his tie and popped free the top button of his too-starched shirt. Where was she?

The rational part of his mind whispered he was overreacting. She could be anywhere—the ladies room, taking a breather from the noise upstairs, on her way home. And he acted like she was in imminent danger.

His gut screamed she was.

He’d seen guys listen to their rational minds and get blown away. He’d seen just as many guys stop because a gut instinct told them to—and the action saved their lives.

He needed to find Kathleen
now
.

A server wandered by, bearing a tray of tiny quiches. Jason stopped him. “Have you seen a redhead, lavender dress, average height?”

The kid jerked his head toward the patio. “Just went outside.”

“Thanks.” He strode to the French doors and stepped onto the marble patio to find it empty. Party noise floated down from the ballroom above, and he walked to the elaborate balustrade, his gaze scanning the darkness beyond the springs.

Low lights illuminated the footbridge leading from the patio to the bank of the cool blue springs. On the bank, tall trees stood like sentinels, darker than the navy sky. A slip of lavender flashed against that darkness and disappeared.

Jason jogged across the footbridge, his ears attuned to any noise. Soft footsteps slithered against pine straw and he followed, tracking by sound, waiting for his eyes to grow accustomed to the lack of light. Only one set of steps. If Jim Ed was out here, he wasn’t moving.

To his left, the river murmured and he knew she wouldn’t go far. Only someone without good sense would go traipsing too close to the treacherous Flint River in the dark.

Sure enough, her footsteps stopped a few yards ahead. Jason tucked his hands in his pockets and began whistling “Boy Named Sue”. Coming upon her by surprise in the dark didn’t seem right, especially under the circumstances.

Pine straw rustled. “Jason?”

A nervous note quavered in her voice. Anger burned his gut. She shouldn’t have to be afraid. She was doing the right thing, and she shouldn’t have to be afraid.

“Yeah,” he said, almost whispering. “It’s me.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you.” He could just make out her face in the darkness, but couldn’t see enough of her eyes to read her mood. Filtered starlight danced off the shimmery satin of her dress.

She shook her head, the diamonds in her ears glinting. “Why?”

“I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I’m fine.” Her voice trembled, still sounding uncertain.

Silence stretched between them. Her scent wrapped around him, not the clean Ivory that had invaded his fantasies, but a blend of mimosa and roses, a scent invoking the sensual warmth of a Georgia summer night.

He wanted more than her scent—he wanted arms, legs, all of her wrapped around his body. He wanted to lose himself in her, until there was nothing left but the reality of them together.

I hate you.

He rubbed his jaw, wishing he could see her face more clearly. He took a step forward. “Kathleen, about yesterday—”

“Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with it. Any of it.” Desperation roughened her voice.

Another step. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.” A step closer and he could hear her breathing. “Not the fire.” Closer still, and satin rustled against starched cotton. His hands cupped her face. “Not those boys’ deaths. None of it. I swear.”

“Don’t swear.”

His fingers traced the warm curve of her cheek. He lowered his head, his lips brushing hers. “It’s true. I promise.”

Her breath moved against his mouth, a sweet, minty rush. Gentle fingers sank into his hair. “Don’t promise.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” With each syllable, their mouths touched.

“Just kiss me.”

Lips tangled, opened, meshed. Heat seared along his nerves, spreading throughout his body, settling in his groin. A tiny moan vibrated in her throat, sending a shiver through him. With her arms around his neck, she stroked her fingers through his hair, over his nape, across his shoulders, and pleasure shot out from each simple caress.

His hands slid over her shoulders and down the sweep of her back, memorizing the feel of her skin. She made that growling little moan again and pulled him closer, the swells of her breasts pressed to his chest. Kissing her was better than any sex he’d had in his life. He could stand here all night, with her hands on him, her tongue making maddening little forays into his mouth, her curves accepting his planes and angles.

I hate you.

“Kathleen.” He kissed along her jaw to her throat. “Say you didn’t mean it.”

“What?” Her head fell back, offering him access to the scented hollow at her collarbone. Never again could he look at a lacy pink mimosa blossom without thinking of her. She’d marked him for life with that scent.

“About hating me.” He murmured the word against her shoulder, caressing the line of her waist and ribcage. “Tell me you didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t hate you.” He curved his hands around the sides of her breasts, and she gasped. The soft sound of her arousal jerked through his erection.

He sought her mouth again, tasting, nibbling, devouring. She touched him, shaping his pecs, tracing the line of his abs, driving him crazy. Fingers flexed against his chest and she whispered into his mouth. “You’re hard. Everywhere.”

The only sound he could manage was a shaky chuckle. He slid his fingers over her hips to cup her buttocks and pulled her closer. He rubbed against her, a delicious, frustrating friction, and she gasped again.

He teased her ear with his lips, her skin a wild mix of salty and sweet. “Sugar, you have no idea how long I’ve been hard for you.”

With her arms twined around his neck once more, she played with his hair. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because you’re pure sweetness.” He nuzzled her temple and felt her smile against his cheek. “And you melt in my mouth.”

She laughed, the soft, velvety sound falling on him like rain on a parched cornfield. He wanted to stay here forever, in her arms, with nothing but the dark, the scent of pines and the sighing river around them. He wanted to forget the real world and what awaited him.

Reality came in the form of Price’s voice, calling from the footbridge area. “Kathleen! Kath, are you out here?”

Kathleen jerked in his arms and pulled away. She smoothed her dress and ran a thumb along the curve of her mouth. She glanced at him, her eyes still unreadable in the dark.

“I should go.”

“Yeah.”

The chasm widened between them again.

“Kathleen!”

“I’m coming.” She moved by him, but Jason reached for her arm.

He drew her to him, his mouth near her ear. “Be careful, Kathleen.” He forced himself to let go and she hurried away.

He followed, their voices wafting to him. Price scolded like a frantic mother. “Where have you
been
? I’ve looked everywhere.”

“I just needed some air.”

“Air.”

“Yes. Air. You know, oxygen.”

A long pause passed before Price spoke again. “Well, come on. Calvert has this wild idea that we should drive to the coast for breakfast. I’m telling you, the white boy can dance, but he has no life. No wonder you two get along so well.”

“Don’t start that again. I told you…”

Jason let the distance grow and the voices drifted away. He’d been so focused on Kathleen he’d forgotten his purpose in going after her. He’d found her.

But where the hell had Jim Ed gone?

“Air, huh?” Altee held out Kathleen’s tiny, beaded clutch. Kathleen, aware of her partner’s searching gaze, took the purse without comment. Altee shook her head, earrings swinging against her neck. “Must be some damn fine air to put that look on your face.”

“Not now, please.” Not while his touch, his kiss, still thrummed through her body. Not when she wanted to walk back into those woods and into his arms. Not when her lower abdomen and the cleft of her thighs ached with liquid desire.

“I’m just—”

“Don’t.”

The music and laughter grew louder as they approached the casino. Tick waited for them in the lobby and Kathleen caught the sharp glance he darted at her face. The urge to find a mirror overwhelmed her, but she didn’t really need one. Heat flushed her cheeks, and her lips felt lush and swollen. She had to look thoroughly kissed.

Tick pushed away from the pillar he lounged against. “Ready to go?”

Kathleen lifted an eyebrow. “You really want to drive all the way to Carabelle-St. Marks? On a Thursday night?”

“Why not?” A lazy shrug accompanied his grin. “We can watch the sun come up and still make it back to work on time.”

“I can do that on my deck.”

“Ah, but not with pancakes from Captain Jack’s.” He pushed the door open and held it for both women. As they moved to the parking lot, he draped an arm over their shoulders. “Price tells me y’all think you’re going to get someone inside Haynes County.”

At his casual tone, Kathleen hid a grin of her own. “Looks that way. Just think about what we could do with someone undercover.”

“Yeah.” Tick lifted his arm from her shoulder and rubbed at his mouth. “That would be great.”

Kathleen shared a quick look with her partner, a smile quirking at Altee’s lips. “Of course, you’d need someone who already had some type of tie to…”

The sight of her beloved Wagoneer killed the sentence in her throat. The trio jerked to a stop.

“Oh, my God,” Altee whispered.

Someone had slashed the tires. Glass from the shattered windshield glittered on the hood and dash. Long gashes gouged the paint.

Fury exploded in a red, stabbing pain behind her eyes. She fought it back. Yesterday’s loss of control, shouting at Jason, had been enough. Couples and small groups of revelers trickled into the parking lot. She wouldn’t create a scene here.

A hand at her throat, she turned to look up at Tick. “Is there any point in even filing a report?”

He grimaced. “For your insurance.”

She shook her head, staring at the destruction. “I don’t believe this.”

Altee wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, you do.”

Fear nudged the fury aside. She didn’t want to be afraid, but the attacks didn’t have a rhyme or reason to them. The snake, her parents’ home, now this. What was next? Damn it, how far would they go to maintain their balance of power?

She looked up to find Tick’s inscrutable gaze on her again while he used his cell phone to contact Chandler dispatch, requesting a tow truck, and a memory flashed across her mind—a younger, boyishly thin Tick thrust into manhood too soon, standing over his father’s open grave, that same unreadable look on his face.

They were willing to kill. That was how far they would go.

Again, fear she didn’t want to acknowledge curled through her. Would they go after her? Her family? Altee?

“Stop it,” Altee murmured in her ear. “You’re giving them what they want. Shake off the fear.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Witless, but we’re not letting them know it.”

Tick snapped his cell phone closed and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Bobby Gene will be here in a few minutes. He’ll tow it over to Lawson’s Automotive for you.”

“Thanks.” She forced a smile, but over his shoulder, her gaze clashed with Jim Ed Reese’s. His arm around Stacy’s waist, he strolled to his shining white pickup, grinning at Kathleen the whole way.

She narrowed her eyes, fury pricking at her skin.
Bastard
. She swallowed the urge to scream at him.
Don’t let him know it
.

Making herself assume a relaxed stance, she pulled her gaze from his mocking green eyes. Eyes the same shade as Jason’s, but never had Jason’s been that cold, filled with malicious satisfaction.

The memory of desire lighting Jason’s eyes poured molten fire through her veins, warming her.

She and Altee had to be right. There was no way Jason Harding was cut of the same cloth as his cousin. Jason wouldn’t do something like this.

They had to be right. They
had
to be.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Genuine worry lingered in Altee’s big doe eyes.

“I’ll be fine. Go home.” Kathleen flashed a grin that made her weary face ache.

“You know I can be here like that.” Altee snapped her fingers, the low light in Kathleen’s living room glittering off polished nails. “You call me if anything happens. You hear me?”

“You’re worse than my mother. Heck, you’re worse than Tick, the biggest mother hen known to man. I’ll be
fine
.”

She gave her partner a light push toward the French doors. Altee twisted to look at her. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Go
home
, Altee. And call me when you get there.”

“Now who’s being a mother hen?”

A few minutes later, with Altee gone, Kathleen threw the locks and surveyed her living room. Everything remained in place, but unease lurked in the house’s shadows. She wrapped her arms around her stomach.

“You’re not doing this. You’re not letting them take over your life.” Saying the words aloud made her feel better.

Leaving the lights on, she walked down the hall to her bedroom. The strappy sandals returned to their bed of tissue and Altee’s indecent dream of a dress to its padded hanger. In her underwear, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, steam rising to dance around the edges of the room.

The phone rang in the bedroom and she hurried to pick up. Altee’s indulgent voice rang across the line. “I’m home, Mom. Everything’s fine on my side of the lake.”

“Same here.”

“Be careful, Kath.”

“You, too. See you in the morning.”

After replacing the receiver, Kathleen padded back to the bathroom. Relaxing, she dropped her panties in the hamper and stepped into the shower. Hot water streamed over her body, sensitized skin tingling under the spray. She reached for her loofah and the white cake of Ivory.

Suds clung to curves, the sharp, clean smell of the soap tickling her nose. The familiar scent triggered a recent memory—the same fragrance on Jason’s warm skin. He hadn’t smelled of Ivory the time she’d kissed him in the Winn Dixie parking lot.

He used the same brand of soap she did now. A coincidence, since every grocery store in town ran it on special at least once a month. But the idea consumed her, of him in the shower, thinking of her, lathering those hard, defined muscles she’d stroked through his shirt. A sharp ache settled between her thighs and begged for relief. A swift, self-induced climax wasn’t going to offer any real satisfaction, though.

No, the relief she sought would come only from having that muscular body on hers, his hands and mouth against her skin. A moan slid past her lips and she sagged against the shower wall, the loofah twisted in her hands.

She didn’t care
who
he was, undercover officer or corrupt-as-hell Haynes County deputy. She wanted him with a fierceness she’d never experienced in her life, a pulsing spreading from her core and out through her entire being.

The knocking permeated her consciousness and she jerked out of the erotic haze. Icy fear slithered after the desire, smothering it. She turned off the water and reached for her towel, listening. With as little noise as possible, she toweled off and wrapped her robe around her still-damp body.

The pounding continued at her French doors. Her heart echoed the cadence. She edged toward her room, wanting her gun and the phone.

“Kathleen?” Jason’s deep voice filtered down the hall. The wanting flared again, melting the fear.

Another anxiety reared. If she opened that door, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him. She stuck her head into the hallway, his shadowy outline visible at the door. “Just a second.”

She avoided looking at the bed and grabbed clothing from her bureau—panties, faded jeans, a white T-shirt. Her fantasy lingered and she shuddered while rubbing moisture from her hair, a sharp stab of desire hitting her. She didn’t need clothes. She needed a freakin’ suit of armor or one of those iron chastity belts. Something to protect her from her own wanting.

Dressed, she padded to the door. She smoothed back her hair, tucking longer strands behind her ears. With a deep breath to calm the jittery nerves galloping in her stomach, she opened the door. His dark suit was gone, replaced by jeans and a sage green polo shirt, his hair damp from a recent shower. He smelled clean and she curved a hand around the doorframe to keep from grabbing him.

“Hey.”

He didn’t smile. “Hey.”

She turned away, needing distance from the temptation he embodied. The door open, she walked into the living room. “I suppose you know all about my truck.”

“I heard.”

At his wry tone, she glanced over her shoulder. He stood just inside, still only a few feet away, his stance deceptively relaxed, thumbs hooked in his pockets. Muscles tensed at his neck and shoulders.

When she didn’t say anything, he ran a hand over his nape. Golden-tipped spikes stood out from his scalp. “I keep telling myself this is a bad idea. I should stay away from you.”

“But?”

“But I can’t.”

Her breath rushed out in a whoosh. Had she been holding it? Her burning lungs seemed to think so. She touched her throat and remembered his mouth there.

Her gaze locked with his. “It’s a really bad idea.”

His eyes darkened to the murky green of Lake Blackshear during a heavy storm. “Kathleen—”

“But I don’t want you to stay away. It’s crazy. Do you know how crazy this is?”

“Yeah.” A slow grin curved his mouth and she knew he wasn’t thinking of the obvious dangers, but something deeper, more physical. “I don’t care.”

He reached out and snagged her wrist, pulling her against him. She flattened her hands against his chest. “Don’t kiss me.”

One of his eyebrows lifted. “What?”

She flexed her fingers against him, wringing a muffled groan from his throat. “If you do, I won’t want you to stop. And I’m not ready to go any further. Not yet.”

His lashes dipped, a frown drawing his eyebrows together. He lowered his head and tense anticipation gathered in her muscles. He was going to kiss her anyway.

He rested his forehead against hers, his ragged breathing audible. She inhaled sharply, struggling for composure, and her already-tingling breasts, bare under the thin cotton of her T-shirt, brushed his chest. He jerked in reaction and liquid heat poured through her.

“Damn it, Kathleen.” He bit the words out through clenched teeth. “It’s not just crazy.
I’m
crazy. I want
you
. Understand?”

His heart thudded against her hands. What would it hurt, to pull him into her room, open herself to him? No one had to know and she was a big girl. She could handle the consequences.

All she had to do was tilt her head and his mouth would be on hers. One little movement. So much pleasure to be had.

She couldn’t do it.

There remained too many truths about him she didn’t have. Reluctance dragged at her movements, but she let her hands fall from his chest and stepped away. Afraid those passion-dark eyes would draw her in again, she looked at her bare feet and tugged hard at her hair.

“I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” Frustration lurked in the tight words. “I won’t do it again.”

Her head jerked up, her gaze flying to his. “Don’t go.”

Surprise flared in his eyes. “What?”

“Don’t go. I-I want you to stay.” She swallowed against the sudden dryness of her mouth and throat. With a shaky smile, she tilted her head toward the kitchen. “I’ll get us something to drink and meet you on the deck.”

She spun on her heel and walked into the kitchen. The refrigerator’s cool air was a welcome relief to her heated cheeks. She grabbed the two longnecks, straightened, and slammed the refrigerator door. Turning, she collided with the solid firmness of Jason’s chest. A tremulous laugh burst from her lips and she fumbled the bottles.

“God, Jason, don’t sneak up on me like that. I thought you were outside—”

His mouth covered hers, his fingers wrapping hers on the icy bottles. Shock and desire held her still while his tongue made a long, lazy foray into her mouth. He stepped back, one of the bottles in hand. She stared at him and touched a finger to her parted lips.

The cap popped off his bottle with a muffled hiss and he took a long draw, the muscles in his throat working. How many other men had she watched swig a beer? Not one of them had affected her this way, making her want to run her fingers, her lips, her tongue over those muscles.

She had to get him out of the house, where her bedroom was a constant temptation.

“Jason.” Her voice trembled and she laughed, resting her own bottle against her flushed face. “Let’s go outside and talk.”

A cynical smile quirked at his mouth. “Anything you want, Kathleen.”

Anything she wanted? Oh, if he only had a clue. Shaking off the feeling of a lost opportunity, she led the way outside to a warm, star-filled night.