Drake didn’t blink. „I remember. I’m also telling you it was a damn stupid thing to have done, Jacob. You were thinking with your heart, not with your head.“
An ashtray went flying across the room, shattering against the wall and splattering ash all over the floor. „Of course I’m thinking with my heart. My son is dead, Drake.“ A wave of grief hit him so immense he bowed from its weight. „Angelo’s dead, Drake.“
„I know, Jacob,“ Drake said gently. „But you can’t harass a woman like Mayhew in her own home without consequences. She scratched Paglieri. Skin samples, Jacob. DNA. If he’s caught, they’ll follow him back to you. Let me handle this.“
„You said you couldn’t find anything.“
„Nothing illegal, Jacob. That doesn’t mean she can’t be convinced to cooperate.“
Jacob sighed. Drake was right He wasn’t doing Angelo any good by acting impulsively. „I’m listening.“
Monday, February 23,
6:00 p.m.
Zoe squinted at the tape. Dammit, they’d been too far away and it was too grainy. She’d tried to get film of Mayhew’s house last night from a couple of streets down because the damn cops in front of her house wouldn’t let her any closer. Something had happened last night, and for once it was inside the house, not outside. Looked like Mayhew’s castle had been scaled. Unfortunately, Mayhew appeared unhurt. How unsatisfying. That would have made great copy. Nevertheless, this little story was starting to percolate in all kinds of different directions. Good thing, too, because her lover hadn’t come back. She guessed he actually did have a conscience after all.
She stopped the grainy video. It was worthless. She needed something new. CNN had called this morning and wanted rights to her tape. This was her one shot and she wasn’t going to let Mayhew and her guard dogs ruin it.
Chapter Sixteen
Monday, February 23,
9:00 p.m.
He let himself into his mother’s kitchen and took an appreciative breath. Whatever his mother had fixed for dinner smelled wonderful. He only hoped they’d saved him some.
„Well?“ Kristen asked from behind him and suddenly dinner was the last thing on his mind. He turned to find her standing in the doorway to his parents’ living room looking totally beautiful and thoughts of the newest box they’d found on her front porch slipped to the fringes of his mind. A glance over her shoulder revealed a grinning Rachel.
„Hiya, Abe.“
He reached around Kristen to cover Rachel’s face with one of his hands. Gently he pushed her, feeling her giggle under his palm. „Scram, kid.“
Kristen’s smile was wry. „We’ve been doing algebra. Actually, Rachel’s been doing algebra, and I’ve been feeling old and stupid.“ She silently mouthed, „Save me. Please.“
Abe slid his arm around Kristen’s shoulders to Rachel’s obvious glee. „I’m serious, Rach. Kristen and I have to talk about work. You go back to your algebra.“
„Okay.“ Rachel winked broadly. „You go talk about work.“ She made a less-than-graceful exit, obviously entertained by very little.
„Oh, to be thirteen again,“ Kristen said.
Abe looked down at her. „Would you? Be thirteen again?“
She made a terrible face and he chuckled. „No way in hell.“ She sobered quickly. „What did you find?“
He shook his head. „Not here. Rachel has ears like a bat.“ He led her through the kitchen and into the laundry room and closed the door, shutting out the sound of the television, leaving only the sound of the dryer banging like it held a pair of running shoes.
„Now tell me,“ she said, but he shook his head, wanting to keep the real world at bay just a little longer.
„This first.“ He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck, taking in her soft scent, letting it soothe. She sighed and relaxed into him as if she’d been waiting all night for him to do just that. He pulled her arms around his neck and felt like sighing himself when her small hands settled on his skin, lightly playing with his hair. Her face lifted and he closed in, finding her lips exactly as he’d remembered. Better than he’d remembered.
„How are you?“ he asked against her mouth and her lips curved.
„You saved me from algebra. What do you think?“
He kissed her again, then pulled back to look into her eyes. She’d been shocked today, hit hard with the administrative leave. But she didn’t seem devastated. Not on the surface anyway, but she hadn’t had a moment to herself since he’d dropped her and Rachel off four hours before. Maybe it had been a good thing. Rachel was enough to take anyone’s mind off anything. „What was for dinner?“
„Pot roast.“ She licked her lips and he felt his body surge to life. He shuffled back a half step to put distance between them, not wanting to frighten her. Sooner or later she’d grow used to him, to the way his body responded to her. Hopefully much sooner than later. „With those little red potatoes,“ she added. „Your mom made you a plate.“ Her eyes danced at him. „Your father told stories at dinner.“
Abe groaned. „I’ll bet he did.“ He’d left her here under the capable protection of his father, who hadn’t asked a question but who, Abe knew, had a damn good idea of what was going on. Kyle Reagan might be a retired cop, but his connections were as strong as the day he’d left the force. „Which stories? Or am I afraid to ask?“
„Oh, all kinds of stories.“ Her fingers stroked the back of his neck and his body clenched. Her eyes narrowing slightly, she repeated the motion, watching him. He splayed his hands wide across the middle of her back, forcing himself not to touch her the way he wanted to. She was testing, exploring her power over him.
„That feels good,“ he murmured and could see her confidence grow before his eyes. She did it again, then brought her hands around to his chest and pushed his overcoat from his shoulders. He let his arms drop to his sides and shrugged his coat onto the floor. She moved as if she’d pick it up, but his arms went around her again, holding her firm. „Leave it.“
Her eyes grew warm, aware, and he drew in a steadying breath as her fingers pulled at his tie. Pulling it free, she dropped it over his shoulder, letting it fall.
„Your father told me that you and Sean fought all the time.“ Her voice was husky as her fingers struggled with the button at his throat and Abe made himself breathe. Made his hands rest calmly on her back.
„All the time,“ he said. „Drove my mom nuts.“ She finally worked the first button free and he let his arms drop to his sides, curling his hands into fists. This was about power, her taking power, and he’d be damned before he stole one iota of her show.
„Umm.“ She scrunched her brows, concentrating on the next button. „My favorite was the one when Sean was teasing you in the backseat of your mother’s old car and you had the bright idea to throw the shoulder belt at him.“
The next button slipped free, and he had trouble remembering his own name, much less the incident she described. „I had to have four stitches in my lip when the seat belt retracted and hit me in the face.“
„Poor baby.“ Whether the murmured pity was for him as a seven-year-old with stitches in his lip or him as a fully grown man enduring torture at her hands, he wasn’t sure. She pulled another button free and her fingertips gently stroked the hair at his open collar. She looked up at him in surprise. „It’s soft.“
Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. „What?“
Her fingers continued to stroke that one little spot while she stared up at him. „I wondered if it was coarse or soft. The hair on your chest.“
Not taking his eyes from hers, he yanked at the buttons, opening his shirt to his waist. He took her hands and put them on his chest, gently pulling at her fingers until her hands were flat against him. He could see her pulse beating at the hollow of her throat as he moved her hands side to side, nearly groaning at the pleasure. It had been such a long time since he’d felt a woman’s hands on him. Six long years. It was a homecoming of a different sort. He closed his eyes and just let himself feel. He dropped his hands from hers, and she continued to make wide, sweeping caresses. When he opened his eyes he found her staring up at him, her green eyes luminous with discovery.