Hot Pursuit (18 page)

“Was Max acting as Dmitri's attorney?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” She paused. “Do you think he had control of Max?”

“It's a possibility. And if he lost that control, say, if Max was running here to warn you about something, then he might be forced to act.”

Cara looked sick. “My God.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Shane and I need to interview this Dmitri guy. Where can you and Blake go while I'm gone? I'll fly out this afternoon and stay overnight. Come home tomorrow.”

“Where I'll stay won't be a problem. I'm going with you.”

“Cara, no. It's not safe.”

“And it's safe here? I'll take my chances with you, where I'll be a lot safer.”

He couldn't argue that. “What about Blake?”

“Why don't we see if Daisy minds if he stays with her and Drew, since Shane will be gone, too?”

“Good idea.”

In an hour, the details were settled and Blake knew where to stay after work. Taylor and Cara headed to the airport, where they met Shane.

Time to finally get some answers.

But he had a feeling he wasn't going to get the ones he needed.

The flight was turbulent, and Taylor hoped that wasn't a portent of things to come.

That and the ever-present smog, one fact of life in Los Angeles that he'd hated with every fiber of his being. He much preferred the clear blue skies of Tennessee to this crap any day.

Next to him, Cara's head was resting on his shoulder. Across the aisle, Shane played a game on his computer tablet. Or he could be planning World War III. Who knew?

At last they came in for a landing, the smoothest part of the flight. Cara stirred and gave him a tired smile, and he gave her a kiss. After collecting their luggage, they hailed a cab and found a cheap motel room not far from the airport, in case they had to make a run for it. They didn't plan on staying longer than necessary.

At the motel, they checked in, Shane in his own room. They'd stay tonight and rest, see Dmitri tomorrow. Or, rather, he and Shane would make the visit while Cara remained out of sight. Once they had their impressions of Constantine, maybe dropped some bait, they'd leave for home.

Taylor stretched out with Cara, pulling her into his body. “You hungry?”

“Not for dinner.”

“You're insatiable.”

“Only when you're on the menu.”

He grinned, liking that. A lot.

“How's your head?” she asked, touching the smaller bandage he'd switched to.

“Better. The flight gave me a bit of a headache, but I'm fine.”

“Why don't we rest for a while? I'm tired.”

She was probably just worried about him, and the thought lightened his heart. He fell asleep with the soft sound of her breathing filling his head.

•   •   •

Reaching over, Cara brushed her fingers over Taylor's whiskered cheek. She didn't want to wake him, but she couldn't help herself. Drinking in the sight of him, she touched his beloved face. Traced his brow, his sensual mouth. Thick blond hair fell around his face. Nuzzling her hand, he didn't speak, just opened his eyes and gazed at her. Such longing and tenderness radiating from them, it took her breath away.

“Taylor . . . I love you.” There. For better or worse, she'd taken the plunge. From his sharp intake of breath, whether she'd done the right thing remained to be seen. God knows she hadn't been able to hold it in any longer, especially now.

Pulling her into his arms, he crushed her against his chest, buried his face in her neck. “Oh, God, Cara. I love you, too. So damned much.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him close. Reveled in his solid warmth, his spicy male scent. Listened to his heartbeat thumping a tempo under her ear, steady and strong. The idea of that strength and vitality suddenly being stilled forever was unthinkable. Horrendous.

Drawing back slightly, she lifted her chin. “Make love to me.”

Tonight, neither of them questioned whether
making love
was what they were doing. The promise in his gaze was more meaningful than any pretty words he could've whispered.

Taylor pulled his T-shirt over his head, lean muscles rippling with the movement. He dropped it to the floor, then unzipped his jeans, sliding them over his hips and legs. Kicking them aside, he grabbed the edge of her white tee, tugged it up and off.

“You're so beautiful,” he said gruffly. “Let me taste.”

Bending, he captured a nipple in his mouth, flicking it to a peak with his tongue. His teeth grazed the hard little nub, and she gasped at the tiny needles of pleasure. He repeated his attentions on the other nipple, then sank to his knees in front of her.

Tilting his head up, he kept his eyes locked with hers as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her jeans and underwear. Slowly, he eased them down her thighs. She wiggled out and he pushed them away with a low, sensual command.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

She complied and—
Oh, shit
. The decadent sight of her gorgeous, naked man kneeling at her feet sent her pulse racing. His mouth was so close to her sex, his warm breath tickled a bit. But his gaze remained on her face as his strong hands spanned her waist.

“This is what you deserve, my girl. To be cherished, worshipped. Held and loved for the rest of your life, by a man who can give you his soul.” He paused, his voice hoarse as he went on.

“I can give you those things for as long as I have breath left in my body. Baby, I hope that's enough, because in the end, I'm a humble cop. My heart is all I have to give.”

If she hadn't been a total goner before, that clinched the deal. This man who kept both sorrow and joy buried inside had stripped his soul bare for her, offered his heart on a silver platter. If possible, the bond between them deepened, her love for him intensified to the point of physical pain.

She touched his cheek, tears pricking her eyes. “Oh, honey. You're all I need, never doubt that. I'll grow old loving you.”

A myriad of raw emotions flashed in the depths of his eyes, and his jaw tightened. His bittersweet thoughts telegraphed as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud.

“Love me,” she whispered.

Leaning into her, he pressed gentle kisses to her tummy. Her flesh quivered in anticipation as he worked lower, nuzzling the downy thatch between her thighs. One finger found her moist slit, rubbing along the nether lips, stroking. He spread the wetness, gliding deliciously around the sensitive clit.

“Ohh, Taylor . . .”

“More?”

“Yes,
yes
.”

He spread her folds, fastened his mouth to her throbbing sex. His talented tongue laved every inch, dipping, exploring. Suckling like a man enjoying a piece of caramel, he ate her. Unhurried, skillfully. Panting, she clung to his shoulders to keep from falling over with sheer pleasure. His hot, wet mouth sucked and pulled, driving her close to the edge, so close.

She yanked at his hair. “Stop! Fuck me,
please
.”

Without moving, he looked up at her. His gaze glittered with pure male lust, and no small amount of satisfaction. “You sure?” More flicking with that devil tongue.

“Oh! Yes, now!”

Chuckling, he stood and scooped her into his arms. He deposited her on the bed, then crawled between her splayed legs. Lord, he was a pagan god. A very hungry pagan god, lean muscles bunching as he guided the tip of his jutting cock to her opening.

He was beautiful. All hers.

Pushing inside, he seated himself to the hilt, covering her body with his. Filling her. Cradling her in his arms, he began to move, sliding out, the head of his penis nudging her entrance, then in again. Inch by glorious inch.

She held him tight, fingers digging into his back as he made slow, sweet love to her. Entwined, they moved together, lost in the miracle of two people fusing their souls. Creating a bond even death could never break.

Angling, he stroked her clit, increasing the tempo. The fire became a blazing inferno and she matched his thrusts, hips rising to meet him. Burying her face in his neck, she urged him on.

“Oh, Taylor, yes, yes! Faster, harder!”

“God, baby.”

Pressing her close to his heart, he loved her with abandon. They flew higher, the rhythm of their bodies as perfectly attuned as a symphony.
This is the way it should be. So wonderful, so right.

“Cara, oh, Jesus . . .”

One thrust, two, then he buried himself deep, throwing his head back with a hoarse cry. Stiffening, he came deep inside her, the hard, hot rush of his release triggering her own. The explosion of heat and electricity rocked her and she clung to him, throbbing against his cock.

“I love you,” he whispered raggedly. “God, how I love you.”

Gradually, the storm abated to gentle waves and she floated back into her body. Smiling, she reached up and raked his hair out of his face. He was gazing at her with so much love and something like reverence.

She swiped a tear with her thumb, throat constricting. “Love you more.”

Laughing, he rolled to his back, scooping her into his arms. She settled happily against his chest, hugging him close.

“Damn,” he sighed with contentment.

“You tired?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“How are you feeling?”

“No worse than when I woke up earlier.”

“Which means?”

A pause. He kissed the top of her head. “I still feel a little off. Like the world isn't totally on its axis.”

“Dizzy?”

“Some. Listen, don't worry about me, baby. By tomorrow, I'm sure I'll be fine.”

He seemed positive, but that didn't erase her worry by a long shot. “Sleep,” she said, caressing his face.

But from the even rise and fall of his chest, the directive wasn't necessary.

He was already gone.

•   •   •

Cara had one item of closure she needed to attend to the next morning before Taylor went with Shane to shake down Constantine.

“I need to see my mother,” she told him. “And I'd like for you to go with me.”

He considered her for a moment, before nodding. “If it's important to you, I'll be glad to.”

“I think I mentioned this before, but my mother isn't the most pleasant person to deal with. She's an addict and might be confused or hateful. Or she could seem normal and greet us with open arms. Either way, I won't be coming back here often, and I'd like for her to meet you.”

“You want her to know your life turned out fine without her money, addictions, and neuroses?” he guessed.

She smiled. “You already know me so well. Yeah, I guess you could say I want her to know I'm fine. That I chose not to turn out like her.”

“I can understand that.”

“Can you? I'll bet your parents are awesome.”

“They were awesome, but they passed away years ago.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“It's all right. I may not know firsthand how bad parents can be, but I've dealt with plenty of people who are how you describe your mother. I can handle her.”

“Thanks for doing this,” she said with feeling.

Shane drove them to a secluded estate in the hills outside L.A. and whistled as they pulled up to the gate with the code box. “Jeez. I could get used to this.”

“Maybe, if you didn't have to live with my mother.”

“Point taken.” She told Shane the code and he pulled up the long, curving driveway, parking in front. “I'll wait out here.”

Even though he was joking, he didn't have to tell her not to take too long. No way would she stay longer than necessary. At the front door, she simply used her key and let them in. The first person she saw was Lettie, the woman who took care of the house and her mother. She was paid well to do a big job, and she was happy to see Cara.

“Oh! Welcome home! It's been too long!” She eyed Taylor with appreciation. “And who is this handsome man?”

Hands off, Lettie.
“This is my boyfriend, Taylor Kayne.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Giving a little bow, she faced Cara again. “I'll get your mother.”

When the woman disappeared, Cara led Taylor into the formal living room, where they remained standing. He sensed her need not to get too comfortable.

“Boyfriend?” he asked with a grin.

“Was I overstepping?”

“Are you kidding? I love you and you love me. I like the sound of being yours and you being mine.”

“Me, too.”

Taylor remained collected but she couldn't help fidgeting while they waited. She was glad at least one of them was calm. Especially when her mother walked in, impeccably dressed in beige linen pants and a silk blouse, her hair fixed and sprayed so that not a strand could move if a tornado swept through.

“Cara, darling.” Moving forward, she embraced Cara in a hug that was like greeting a marble statue. Stepping back, she eyed her daughter's ripped jeans and glittery T-shirt with distaste. “You always come home looking like a refugee from Woodstock.”

“Wrong era, Mom.”
At least I don't take fifteen kinds of drugs like they did then—and, oh, like you do.
But she didn't say that. “How have you been?”

Her mother scrutinized the two of them. “Doing fine.” She eyed Taylor like he was a bug. Or a juicy steak. With her, one could never tell. “And who are you?”

“Detective Taylor Kayne,” he said, extending his hand. After a moment, she took it briefly in one of those limp grasps. If Taylor was disgusted, he said nothing.

“I'm Melinda Evans. I'm sure my sweet girl has told you all about me.”

“Nothing but good things,” Taylor said, lying through his teeth. He rewarded her mother with a broad smile that made him look like a movie star.

Melinda blinked at him, then smiled shyly, clearly taken with him. “Well, thank you. Though I must say that's a surprise.”

“I just came by to introduce you to Taylor. He works for the Sugarland Police, and since his home is there, that's where I'm staying.”

“You're not moving home?” Melinda actually seemed a bit sad about that.

“No. I have my own life there, but I'll visit. And you can come there, hear my band play sometime.”

“I don't know—”

“And you can stay with me, meet some hot, eligible bachelor cops,” she couldn't resist adding.

That perked her mom right up. “Oh? Well, maybe sometime I'll have to make a trip. When I'm feeling better.” She shot an uncertain glance at Taylor before looking at her daughter again. “And I am feeling better. Much.”

Code for “being sober again.”

“Good for you.” She gave her mom a genuine smile, and was surprised to have it returned. “Have you been careful, not left the house like I told you?”

“Of course, but I don't understand what this is all about,” she complained.

“I'll tell you about it soon, okay? I just can't get into it right now.”

“All right. Stay for lunch?”