Deadly Deception (22 page)

"You're really beautiful, Frankie."  Slowly and seductively, his gaze slid over her, making her pulse race.

"So I'm guessing now is not the time to discuss Rule #1?" 

"Rule #1 can go to hell."

"I agree.  Protection?"

"Be right back." 

She heard him walk to his bedroom and laid her head on a pillow.  Within seconds she drifted into a deep sleep.

In her dream, she was running as fast as she could to escape the tornado barreling toward her.  Where was Lane?  She couldn't stop running to look for him.  "Lane!"  She screamed until her voice was hoarse.  She saw him ahead lying in a ditch.  She threw herself next to him and he pulled her into an embrace.  She kissed him, her tongue exploring the recesses of his mouth, tasting him.

Suddenly, a violent gust of wind hit them and he was gone. "Nooooooo."  She jerked upright in bed, nearly panting with fear. She patted the area around her as if expecting him in bed with her.  When she realized he was not there, she climbed out of her bed, turned on the hall light, and headed toward Lane's room.

Chapter Seven

When she reached his door, she could see Lane lying beneath a white sheet that was carelessly tossed across his naked midsection on his bed.  Moonlight bathed his lean, muscular body, while the cool night air streaming through open windows ruffled his hair as he slept.  She could hear him breathing.  He slowly opened his eyes as if he sensed her presence.

"Frankie?"  He blinked a couple of times as if she was an apparition.

"I'm cold," whispered Frankie as she wrapped her arms around herself to stifle a shiver.

"Do you want me to get you some blankets?"

She moved a step toward him.  "No, I want
you
to be my blanket."

She watched as Lane sat motionless for a second, but then he moved over so he could peel back a section of the blanket and sheet on his bed for her.  She slowly moved to him, desire's heat rushing through her body.

The breeze caught her hair and whipped it about her face.  Her thin blue nightgown fluttered.  She made no effort to cover herself.  Vaguely aware of breathing in and out, she found it wondrous she could breathe at all.  She'd never wanted a man like she wanted Lane.  Never. 

She reached the edge of the bed and crawled in next to him, positioning herself so her head lay on his shoulder.  His musky and very male scent intoxicated her.  He pulled her near and she sighed with pleasure as she tried to press even closer against him.

"Are you getting warm?" he asked as he lightly rubbed her arm.

In response, she licked and nibbled on his ear lobe and snaked a long leg across his thighs.  She whispered, "Oh, I think you can get me much warmer than this."

Braced on his elbows, he looked down at her. "Baby, I think I can."  The warmth of his smile echoed in his voice.

He possessively claimed her lips crushing her to him sending shivers of desire racing through her body.  His kiss felt so good, she wanted to drink him in so it never ended.  A hot jolt of lust surged like molten lava through her veins.  It was a heady combination of desire and need that burned out of control. 

Her body was on fire, as he trailed hot kisses down her throat to her breast, tracing her sensitive, swollen nipple through the gauzy nightgown with his tantalizing tongue until she nearly screamed with pleasure.  He pulled down the top of her nightgown and she knotted her fingers in his hair as he moved his attention to the rosy peak of her other breast.

His body temperature seemed to spike, and the heat coming off him set her already hot blood to boiling.  He seemed focused on taking her slowly, exploring her body with sensual care.  He pulled at her nightgown until it bunched around her ankles and pushed it off the bed.  He kissed his way up her body, his hands slowly moving upward, skimming either side of her body to her thighs.  Then he cupped her and she cried out loud as a bolt of desire shot through her body. Passion pounded the blood through her heart, chest and head.  Her body was on fire as his magic fingers stroked her until she cried out for release as she shattered into a million glowing stars.

She'd imagined him making love to her many times over the past seven months.  But the fantasy didn't come close to this.  This was a trillion times better.  He claimed her lips again, his tongue plunging as another part of his body would soon do — in then out until she was frantic with need.  She arched against him.

"Lane, please," she begged.  She needed him inside her.  She needed her body melted against his in a timeless dance of lust.  God, she wanted
this
man.

He bent slightly above her, staring down into the heat of her eyes, as he stroked her tortured body.  She was aflame with his touch as he reached over her to open the drawer in the bedside table.  She heard the ripping of foil then he covered himself.  She arched her hips up to meet him as he pushed inside her.  Her breath caught at the force of it.  He pulled out, and then pushed in again, making a low groan in his chest.

Their bodies grew slick with sweat as she moved her hips against him and he picked up the perfect pace.  She clutched at him, careful of the injuries on his back as he pushed and pushed into her in a hot, slick dance she wished would never end.

She felt a white hot fire in her core.  It was building and building until she exploded with pleasure, screaming his name.  Moments later, he made a violent thrust and shuddered against her as he found his own release.

His was the hard breathing of one who'd just run a marathon. Christ, he'd never felt like this — like a sexual bomb had just exploded in his body and he may never recover.  He rolled over pulling her atop him stroking the length of her hips and thighs as he came back to earth. 

Finally, he opened his eyes and found Frankie staring at him.  He used his thumb to gently brush her hair out of her eyes. 

"Just so you know, if you’re thinking of ghosting or disappearing like you did seven months ago, I intend to shoot you.  And we both know I won't miss."

"Baby, you're going to have to shoot me to keep me
away
from you."  He looked into her eyes and in a husky whisper said, "You're not questioning my
staying
power, are you?" 

He pushed her hand down to his arousal and pulled her into a deep kiss.  Then proceeded to demonstrate he was around to stay in the most sensual way he could.

She awoke the next morning to the muffled sounds of Lane talking on his cell phone in the hallway.  He disconnected the call and walked back to the room, leaning against the doorframe wearing only boxer shorts and looking like a model in a fragrance ad with his dark looks and amazing body.  The man radiated testosterone.

"That call didn't wake you, did it?"

She pulled the sheet up to cover herself, yawned, and stretched. Her sore muscles reminded her of the night before and she blushed.  "Was that about the case?"

"They identified the dead girl.  Her name is Ally Black.  She was seventeen years old.  She ran away from her foster home a couple of times so Children Services had her fingerprinted."

"Did you find out anything else?"

"No.  After a shower, I thought I'd make my famous country breakfast with blueberry pancakes."  He raked his fingers through his hair and placed his cell phone on his dresser. "Then we can talk about the case." 

"Sounds like a plan." She got out of bed, wrapped the sheet tightly around her body and was heading toward her bathroom when Lane scooped her up off the floor.  He carried her fireman-style to his bathroom and deposited her on the floor then he turned on the water in his shower.

"Did I say I wanted to shower alone?"   He pulled her into a deep kiss and Frankie decided Lane showering alone wasn't going to happen on her watch.

David Chambers was a man who did not like surprises.  He wandered through every room of his ranch-style home looking for his wife and two daughters.  Finding no one home, he searched his mind for a reminder of a missed appointment or something.  But it was mid-day in June and his wife and kids should be home waiting to have lunch with him.

In the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator door to see if his wife left him anything for his lunch.  There was nothing.  As he closed the door, a slip of paper drifted to the floor.  He picked it up and read it.  In a rage, he crumbled it into a tight ball.  Leaving him?  Was she serious?  She knew better than to take his kids and leave him.  Hadn't he warned her a dozen times what would happen if she ever left him?  Did her last trip to the hospital not convince her he meant what he said?

He kicked a wooden chair near the kitchen table and sent it flying until it slammed into the back door.  She'd pay for this.  He'd find her just like he did the last time she had left. Only this time, there'd be any hospital visit for her. She'd pay just like the two bitches he snuffed out for Dr. Caine. 

David turned on the computer in his home office and watched as it came to life.  He surfed to their bank's website then logged into their joint bank account and found it was empty.  He doubled his fists and pounded them on the desk, then clicked his mouse to view recent transactions.  She'd used their VISA card to reserve a hotel room in Nashville, Tennessee.

He sent a quick email to Dr. Caine.

I'll be out of town for a week or more for a personal emergency.  You have my cell phone. Use it if you need me.  —D.C.

He snatched his car keys out of his pocket and raced to the Lincoln Town Car.

After a late breakfast, Frankie and Lane sat in the formal dining room at either end of the long table starting up their laptops.  They had a name for their victim, Ally Black.  Their task this morning was to use technology to discover her identity.  Frankie was going to look into Ally Black's bank records while Lane searched for any relatives to notify of her death.

"So far, I'm hitting a brick wall with relatives. I found a death certificate for her mother.  There is no father listed on Ally Black's birth certificate.  The girl had been in and out of foster homes. Her life seems as depressing as Mandy Morris's," said Lane.

"What about the foster parents?  Should you notify them?"  She asked the question while at the same time wondering why they hadn’t reported the girl as missing.

"Her last foster home is on High Street.  I'll go there this afternoon. Have you found anything interesting in her bank records?"

Frankie scrolled through the girl’s bank records.  "Well, there are direct transfers of $500 from a company with these initials — F.H.A.A."