“We’re not going to drive it.” He put his arm around her, his gloved hand patting her shoulder through her heavy coat. “We’re going to park in it.”
She looked up at him. “You’re insane.”
His grin softened to something so very sweet her heart turned over. “And you’re smiling. That’s worth a trip to the chiropractor.”
Touched, she looked away. “Is this your car?”
“It is.” He swatted at the vinyl roof that was sagging into the interior. “I got it a couple of years ago, but I don’t have much time to work on it.”
“Why this car? It looks worse than my hunk of junk.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This is a muscle car.”
“Its muscles are atrophied,” she said wryly.
He chuckled. “I drove one just like this one when I was a kid.” He gave her an arched look. “I got some major action in the backseat of that car.”
Her breath caught at the implicit promise. “I don’t think you’ll get much action tonight unless we want to explain frostbite in embarrassing places to the doctors in the ER.”
“Didn’t you ever park when you were a teenager, oh so many years ago?” he asked silkily and despite her winter layers and the heat from his body, she shivered.
“No. None of the boys I knew had cars unless they’d been stolen.” She rested her head on his shoulder, comfortable and grateful and anticipating, all at the same time. “So how does it work, this parking thing?”
“It’s pretty straightforward. I try to go as far as I can and you stop me. Of course the whole frostbite thing is an issue, so mostly we just neck. Like this.” And he kissed her until her bones felt fluid and her skin became way too hot under the layers of clothing she wore. Her pulse throbbed deep, just as it had every time he’d kissed her.
She tugged off one glove so that she could touch his face, learning every texture, shuddering when he turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. He returned to her mouth, layering pleasure on sensation without demanding anything back and suddenly she wished he would. His gloved hands were safely anchored, one on her shoulder, the other cradling the back of her head.
She pulled back, just far enough to see his eyes. They glittered in the darkness and the leashed desire she saw there stole her breath. “What do we do next?”
“Nothing you don’t want to do.”
It was her game then, her rules. It was terrifying even as it exhilarated. “Then try something and let me see if I want to stop you.”
For a moment he remained still, then shifted to the middle of the seat, pulling her across his lap so that she straddled him. He looked up as she looked down and his hands stroked down her back, over her butt, resting on her thighs. His fingers teased, low enough not to panic, but high enough to make her heart race.
“Your sofa’s a mess,” he whispered, “but your chair gave me a number of fantasies.”
And that fast she could see them, imagining how his bare skin would feel against hers. She covered his mouth with hers and pressed her hips into him, her body jolting with the initial shock of discovery. He’d said he wanted her. He wasn’t lying.
Her eyes flew open. His face was hard. Hungry. His body was hard and full and his hips lifted in a rhythm that made her chase his movements, trying to prolong the contact. “You’re teasing me,” she whispered against his lips.
His laugh was soft, yet strained. “Is it working?”
“Yes.”
His hands clutched at her thighs, pulling her down and grinding himself against her, dragging a muted moan from her throat. It felt good, so good, and she wanted more. Needed more. With shaky hands she tugged at the zipper on her coat. His hands left her hips, working the zipper on the fleece she wore beneath. He yanked his gloves off, his eyes never leaving hers as his warm palms slid up under the sweater she wore to claim her breasts, the thin cotton of her bra the only thing between them.
“Yes?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes,” she whispered, wishing he’d push the cotton aside, moaning when he did.
His thumbs teased her nipples and every muscle clenched harder as she lowered herself against the sharp ridge of his body. The sounds he made were harsh and full of want, and need. She took his mouth again and did some grinding of her own.
Abruptly he stopped, forcing his hands to go lax. A moment later his hips dropped back and she felt cold. They’d fogged up the car windows. His eyes were closed and his jaw tight. He was holding on to control by a thread and the knowledge thrilled.
“Why did you stop?” she asked huskily when he put her clothing to rights.
“Because I still could. In another minute I’d have tried something more.”
“Maybe I would have wanted you to.”
He swallowed hard. “We would have been in frostbite territory,” he said quietly.
Her hand trembling, she pushed his dark hair from his damp brow. “Did you ever… you know… in the backseat?”
His unsteady grin flashed. “This time of year? No.” Briefly he patted her bottom, the pat becoming a caress that made her hum with pleasure. Then his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket, startling them both. “It’s probably Jack.”
Eve scrambled off his lap and he dug for his phone. He listened for a minute, then flashed a quick look at Eve. “No, she’s here with me. What’s the address?” He jotted it down, his expression now grim. “I’ll call Jack and meet you there. That was Olivia,” he said, hanging up and dialing again, waiting for Jack to answer. “She found Harvey Farmer, Sr. Come on, Jack, pick up.”
“That was fast,” Eve said.
“Not fast enough. He’s dead. Jack, dammit, call me.” He punched more numbers, climbing out of the car. Tersely he repeated the message to call him and dialed again as he held the garage door open for her.
“Bruce,” he said, letting them into his house. “It’s Noah. Did Olivia call you?… Good. She called me, too, but when I called Jack, I didn’t get an answer again. At his home or cell. I’m on my way to Farmer’s, but you said to call if I couldn’t reach Jack again.” He hung up, grabbed Eve’s computer bag, and kept walking. “Let’s go.”
“Did Olivia find the son, Dell?” she asked as she buckled her seat belt.
“No. That’s why you’re still with me.”
“How did she find the father?”
“The LUDs from Kurt Buckland’s phone showed a phone call from that address. It’s a house rented in Harvey Sr.’s name.”
He’d clicked fully into detective mode. “How did the father die?”
“Shot in the chest. With every window in the house open.”
She felt cold herself. “He can’t be the same guy, Noah. The man killing these women is patient and meticulous. Dell Farmer was unstable.”
He opened her car door. “I know. I agree and so does Carleton Pierce.”
“Pierce came to see me again tonight, in the hospital. He told me you were going to go public on the Shadowland connection, to warn potential victims.”
“I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I just hope it saves the next woman.”
Wednesday, February 24, 8:25 p.m.
“Stay here by the door and don’t touch anything,” Noah said to Eve.
“Okay,” was all Eve said, her eyes fixed on Harvey Farmer’s dead body.
“Don’t look,” he said, thinking he should have left her somewhere else, but knowing he wouldn’t be able to think straight if he was worried about her.
“Too late,” she said and waved him away. “Go. I’m fine.”
No, she wasn’t, but he had to do his job. “Olivia, what do we have?”
Olivia crouched beside the body. “One slug to the chest, large caliber. Body’s still warm. Looks like he took a punch to the face. I’ve called CSU and the ME.”
“The blue Subaru parked outside? I’ve seen it before. It was trailing me and Jack on Monday when we left the coffee shop with Eve. It’s the son’s.”
“Wait,” Eve said from where she stood, exactly where he’d asked her to stay. “Dell Farmer was there, in the coffee shop. How did he get to that blue Subaru so fast? The barista said Dell and Jeremy Lyons talked for a minute before he left. That’s when Lyons offered to give him Callie’s cell phone number. You and I and Jack were a block away by then and so was the blue Subaru.”