Big Easy Temptation (32 page)

“Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “I need it.”

“And I need to watch you. I love watching you climax. I love the way it feels when
you’re wrapped around my cock and you finally let go. Don’t come yet. Not without
me.” He aligned his stiff flesh with her slick opening and pressed in with slow, short
thrusts.

He loved how tight she was, how right she felt. No matter how many times he had her,
he always had to fight his way inside. But once he did . . . they always fit together
perfectly.

Holland’s breathing turned shallow. She cried out his name as she shoved her hips
up in silent entreaty, offering herself to him.

He gripped her hips and gave her what she wanted, sinking a bit deeper with each little
move. She felt different from this angle and he loved that he could see how he affected
her through the way she clutched the railing of the headboard, arched her spine to
take more of him, and tossed her head in pleasure. Her whole body was taut and wanting.
She wasn’t thinking about all the ways he’d hurt her now. She was simply lost in the
moment with him.

He would change her mind. He had to. He couldn’t live without this woman.

I love you
. He said it silently because he hadn’t earned the right to say it out loud yet.

He used her hips to pull her back as he began to fuck her in earnest. She wouldn’t
accept words of love from him so he let his body do the talking. He worshipped her,
caressing her softly, bending to press a kiss to her back, whisper words against her
neck. More than once, he took them both to the edge of climax and then dragged them
back because he wanted this to last. He never wanted his time with her to end.

She rocked with him, shoving her hips back and taking him as deeply as she could.
She fought for her pleasure, and it excited him like nothing else could. Somewhere
deep down, like that heart she didn’t want to acknowledge, she wanted him, too.

When he couldn’t hold out a second more, he reached around and found her clitoris
again, giving it a firm rub as he delved even deeper inside her.

Holland gasped and pushed back against him, the muscles inside her core tightening
deliciously.

He couldn’t stop the freight train of desire. A tingle began at the base of his spine,
then shot through his body. Dax could have sworn he exploded with pleasure. As climax
hit, she turned him inside out and flattened him. With a long groan, he gave her everything,
gritting
his teeth with the effort to hold himself deep and stay inside her as long as possible.

When he had nothing left, he fell on top of her, not even thinking to keep his weight
from her. They landed in a tangle of arms and legs. It was exactly where he wanted
to be.

And where he intended to be when everything was over—right here with
her.

H
olland was still shaken as she sat down to breakfast. Luckily, tinfoil hadn’t been
the only thing Freddy had brought back with him. The conspiracy theorist apparently
didn’t believe that meat was murder. He’d brought a pound of bacon that he’d cooked
up, much to Lara’s displeasure.

Connor had been sneaking pieces of bacon all morning.

And all she’d been able to dwell on was the fact that Dax had mentioned marriage.

She shouldn’t let herself even think about it, much less hope again. How was she supposed
to trust him? He said all the right things, but the minute the chips were down would
he turn to the nearest available woman and run off to Vegas again?

She’d told him she could forgive him, but was she fooling herself? She didn’t want
to be Dax Spencer’s second wife when he’d gone into his first marriage with such a
cavalier attitude. What did marriage really mean to a man who could do that?

“So we’ve had some overnight developments. Mostly because Freddy doesn’t sleep,” Connor
said, pouring her another cup of coffee.

She was so ready to focus on anything besides her love life. “You don’t sleep?”

Freddy shrugged. “Not much. That whole eight-hours-of-sleep thing is a myth perpetrated
by the mattress companies and big pharma.”

“Freddy’s very wary of big pharma,” Lara acknowledged. “But he’s also really good
at digging up stuff other people can’t find.”

“Like records of Admiral Spencer visiting a psychiatric hospital in the English countryside.
He requested records there,” Connor added.

That had her sitting up straight. “Records for who?”

“A patient named Jane Downing,” Freddy explained. “But I highly suspect that’s an
alias. The hospital is known for being a hideout for the wealthy and insane. It’s
small, with a high employee-to-patient ratio. They employ a gourmet chef.”

“Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking?” Dax strode in, tucking in his shirt. His hair
was still wet from his shower.

“If you’re wondering if Jane Downing was actually Constance Hayes, then yes,” Holland
replied.

She didn’t like to think about how close she’d come to climbing into that shower with
him just to feel him wrap his arms around her again. The impulse had been there. She’d
thought about inviting him into hers. Instead, she’d locked the door. She’d needed
time, a little space.

“We’ve put a call into Zack,” Lara explained. “And we’ve got Everly trying to check
some other rehab centers or mental hospitals to see if that alias comes up. We know
she went on a couple of ‘vacations’ that were actually stays in a place like this.
Not that any of them took.”

“Everly?” The name suddenly rang a bell. “Gabe’s fiancée? Sorry, I’m still getting
used to the guys actually having women attached to them for more than a night or two.”

Lara smiled. “Everly is wonderful and she’s really good at getting inside computer
systems . . .” She cleared her throat. “I mean at investigating.”

So Gabe was marrying a hacker. “As long as she’s not hacking the
military, it’s not my jurisdiction. Besides, sometimes you’ve got to break a few rules
to find justice. Every good cop knows that.”

Lara sighed. “Thank god.”

“She says that because she hasn’t always been on the up-and-up, have you?” Connor
eyed his wife with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Little criminal.”

“I have not. Anything I ever did was to expose criminal activity,” Lara replied primly.

“She’s scared that because you’re a fed, you’ll arrest her,” Freddy said with a grin.
“I think she was right the first time around. You’re a Mulder.”

“I’m a what?”

Lara waved it off. “Freddy has this idea in his head that all government employees
are either Mulders or Smoking Men. He’s watched way too much
X-Files
. Mulder was the one after justice, you see. He was the one who believed. And the
Cigarette Smoking Man was evil, always involved in lots of bad things. So him calling
you a Mulder means he likes you.”

Awesome. She gave him a smile because he was actually kind of interesting, in a weird
way. “Thanks. I’m glad you don’t think I’m the other sort. So what are we doing while
we wait for Zack to call back? I have some ideas about how to track down Peter Morgan.”

Dax sat down across from her. “My father’s aide-de-camp? I thought everything surrounding
him was classified. We’re not hacking Navy personnel files. I’ve got Roman looking
into it. They can’t find his current address.”

“I know, but I found out that his mother is in a nursing home not two miles outside
of New Orleans.” She’d made a few phone calls, talked to some staff. They’d been more
than happy to tell a “social worker” that Peter Morgan’s mother got a weekly visitor
without fail. “I think he’s seeing her. The nurses at the home say it’s her nephew
who stops in, but his mother was an only child. Needless to say, I think he’s visiting
his momma and he usually does it at the same time every week. Which happens to be
this afternoon.”

Lara clapped her hands. “We’re staking out a nursing home.” She stopped suddenly and
frowned. “Wait. The last time we did that someone died horribly.”

“Yeah, how about you stay here and hold down the bayou with Freddy.” Connor patted
his wife’s hand. “Holland and I will stake out the old folks’ home and figure out
where Peter’s hidey-hole is. I don’t want to spook the man, at least not until we’re
ready and know everything we want to ask him.”

Dax frowned. “I’ll go with Holland.”

She shook her head. “You have to talk to your mother, find out if there’s any connection
at all between your father and Zack’s mom.”

“There’s this little invention I call a cell phone,” Dax offered.

“I think you should see her.” Holland didn’t like the idea of Judith rattling around
that big house with only bodyguards and her housekeeper for company. “After we nearly
got burned alive last night, you should check on her. Talk to her. Pick her brain.
Search your father’s office. It might spur something. I know it’s been years. Maybe
something was overlooked.”

“By NCIS? I doubt it,” Dax replied, then sighed. “But I should make sure all is well
and no one has come near my mother.”

“Besides, she needs to lay eyes on you. I’m sure she’s heard about the fire.” Holland
would be worried out of her mind if she were Judith. She would want to see Dax, reassure
herself that her baby boy was all right. She wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise.
“Did you even call her to tell her you’re okay?”

His face turned a dull red. “Fine. I’ll visit her, but I’m going in quietly. I don’t
want anyone to follow me back here. I know an indirect route in. As a teenager, Gus
was really good at sneaking in and out of the house. She taught me well. Connor, take
care of my girl.”

He was gone before she could protest that she wasn’t his girl.

He would probably just argue anyway.

“So we’re staking out an old folks’ home. That sounds like a blast.”
She’d be alone in a car with Connor for hours. Yeah, nothing could possibly go wrong.

Connor sat back. “We should definitely get there soon. You know, I could tell you
some stories about Dax on the way. That will be entertaining.”

Holland suspected that was Connor code for
I’m going to ask you a bunch of questions you don’t want to answer
. She sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

*   *   *

D
ax eased into the house, the bodyguard at the backdoor nodding his way.

“Hello, sir.”

Dax held out a hand and shook the other man’s. He was a big guy dressed in an impeccable
if nondescript suit, despite the fact that he would spend almost all day indoors.
But that was how the Secret Service tended to roll. Dax had pegged the agent the minute
he saw the guy. Gus hadn’t sent out mere paid guards. She’d talked Zack into sending
the big guns.

“How have things been around here?” he asked.

“Quiet, sir. Though your mother took me and Bentley for fifty bucks apiece when we
played cards last night.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. That was fake money. I never play for real money. Buying shoes
is what real money is for,” his mother said as she walked into the kitchen, her arms
wide. “You come here, boy. If you weren’t too big I would turn you over my knee for
scaring me like that.”

So Holland had been right. His mom had heard about the torch and burn at Holland’s
place. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Obviously we escaped but things were a little crazy.
I didn’t realize you would know that Holland and I were involved. They didn’t mention
names on the news.”

“Holland’s uncle called looking for you. He was worried about his niece. I had to
tell him I had no idea where you were. It’s not the same thing as when you’re deployed,
Daxton. You have to call.”

He stepped toward his mother, pulling her slender frame in for a hug. “Sorry. I promise.
Can we talk for a few minutes? I have to get back out to Holland, but you should know
we’re not alone. Connor is with us.”

She patted his back. “Well, that makes me feel better. He’s a good man. Shall we go
to the parlor?”

“Dad’s office is more appropriate.”

Her face tightened. “Oh. This isn’t a social call.”

He hated having to grill her, but she was the only one still alive who could talk—and
he wanted to keep it that way. “No, Mom.”

She nodded and turned, her shoulders squared, a true Southern belle about to do her
duty. He loved his mom. Holland reminded him of his mother at times. She had that
same steel in her spine.

She was silent as she walked into his father’s office. The shades were drawn and she
drifted to the windows as if to open them, but stopped with a shake of her head.

Instead, she sat in the seat across from the desk, her hands in her lap. “What do
you need to know?”

He hated the fact that she couldn’t open the blinds. She couldn’t let sunlight into
this room. When this was over, he was hiring someone to redecorate, to make this into
a room his mother could love again. “Dad took a trip to London shortly before the
scandal broke out. Do you know anything about it?”

“It was a conference of some kind.”

He shook his head, hating that he had to tarnish his father’s memory more and further
disillusion his mother. “He didn’t actually attend a conference. We think he went
overseas for personal reasons. Have you ever heard of an institution called Homewood?
It’s a small hospital in the English countryside.”

She frowned. “Was your father hurt?”

“No. He went there to request the records of a patient named Jane Downing.”

“I know that name.” She put a hand to her forehead as though trying
to recall where she’d heard it. “Downing was a family name. Oh, why can’t I remember?
Hayes. Downing was Constance Hayes’s mother’s maiden name. They were a very genteel
family. From Sussex, I believe.”

His mother had an interest in genealogy. “Was there a family member named Jane?”

“Oh, I did Zack’s genealogy for him back when you were in college. Such an interesting
family. I don’t recall a Jane in the last few generations, though if memory serves,
it was Constance’s middle name. I’ve got the family tree here somewhere.”

“No need, Mother. I think that answers the question.” She’d gone into the hospital
under an alias. “Did Dad have some kind of connection with Constance Hayes?”

“Are you asking me if your father had an affair with her?” His mother waved a hand
in utter dismissal. “Not a chance. Your father liked them younger and far less troubled
than Constance. That woman was a mess. I don’t think I ever encountered her when she
wasn’t drinking. She had a serious problem. And lord, she could talk your ear off.
About the strangest things, too. Never made any sense. I wasn’t surprised to find
out she was intoxicated when she died in that car accident.”

The hair on the back of his neck was prickling his skin. Constance Hayes’s name had
been on Natalia’s list. People who talked got silenced in this world. Had her fatal
wreck really been an accident? Probably not. So what had Constance known? “What kinds
of things?”

“I don’t recall specifics.”

“I need them, Mother.”

She frowned. “What does this have to do with your father’s case?”

He had to tell her. He hated dragging her back in before they knew all the facts,
but he couldn’t keep it from her. “I think Dad was drugged when he was in bed with
Amber Taylor.”

“Why would you imagine that?”

“The police had actual photos of him in bed with her, but he appears to be drugged.
He’s not actively participating and those photos weren’t taken at the motel in which
he supposedly assaulted the
girl. I think they were taken in England and used later to frame Dad because he was
investigating something dangerous.” He quickly gave her a rundown of what they’d uncovered.

“A list? And everyone on the list is dead?”

He nodded. “At least all the people I recognize. I think Dad must have suspected that
Constance hadn’t died because she’d been driving drunk. When he began digging into
her life and her death, they invented dirt on him. When he refused to be blackmailed,
they killed him. I don’t believe he committed suicide, Mom. Not for a second. Neither
does Gus.”