The Last Execution (37 page)

The back of her knees bumped the mattress. Without taking her gaze off his, she scooted up the bed. J.T. jerked off his socks and shoes and then crawled after her. He sat back on his heels and let his eyes feast. Sanity slipped out the door when her hips rose in invitation.

“You’re right. The hell with going slow.” He ran his fingers between her legs. The muscles in her stomach tightened at his touch. Already wet, the scent of her moisture drifted to his nostrils. Sweet nectar. He nudged her knees wider, slid his hands under her hips, and lifted her in the air. His fingers slid the thin strip of lace to the side, and he blew a warm breath across her sensitive skin. “Mine.”

“Please.” She wet her lips with her tongue, and her eyes plead for relief.

J.T. covered her with his mouth.

Jesus Christ.
He could not get enough of her. Would never get enough of her. Ever.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Wednesday, May 19, 11:00 p.m.

J.T. shifted his weight in search of Leigh’s warm body but found empty, cool sheets. He bolted upright, instantly awake and alert. Swinging his feet to the floor, his gaze swept the room. She sat on the floor next to the window looking out at her backyard. Moonlight streamed through the open curtains and across long, curly hair hanging down her back. The sight sent a sharp pain through his heart. This feeling that swelled in his chest when she was near couldn’t be anything more than lust. Couldn’t be. All he had to do was look at his mother and father for proof love or long-term commitments never lasted. Then Nana’s undying love and support flashed across his mind.
Shit.
He was contradicting himself.

She grieved for something other than Carrington’s death. What troubled her? Tonight had been about forgetting. Twice, she’d used him to forget. Not that he minded being Leigh’s sex toy. He slid off the bed and assumed his usual position on the floor behind her.

His libido sprang to life with her naked and pressed against him. He willed his expanding erection to relax. “What’s up?” He kept his tone casual while blood sped south. As usual, his dick paid no attention to instructions. His brain seldom won an argument.

“You deserve an explanation.” Her voice was soft as a breeze across calm water.

“No.” His immediate reaction to her warm skin and silky hair made it hard to concentrate. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“The chief gave me a choice today. Work a desk or take vacation time.”

“What lame-ass excuse did you get?”

“Carlton Carrington.”

“What about him?”

Leigh’s chest rose while she took a deep breath. On the exhale, she twisted in his arms and faced him. As she turned, moonbeams highlighted tears brimming, ready to rush down her cheeks. She didn’t cry, instead, she laid out the day’s events, factual and flat. He felt her undercurrent of anger.

His blood boiled at her boss’s treatment of her. She’d been through enough hell during the past few weeks to knock a bull to his knees. Yet she kept getting up and moving forward. He respected her dedication to Ethan and her job. He’d never experienced her kind of devotion from his mother.

“Did you tell him to go f—”

Her finger across his lips cut off his last few words. “I’m on vacation for a few days. When I go back, I’ll do what it takes to reclaim his respect. Even if it means doing research or paperwork for one of the other detectives.”

“I’m sorry. You deserve better.” A plan formed in his head. He’d ask Casey to send a letter of commendation on her behalf to the chief of police, and hell, maybe the mayor.

“I’ll survive. This is a minor setback.” The corners of her mouth lifted. “You’ll be fine working the case without me.”

“I’m not sure about that.” A long curl draped across her breast. He picked up the lock of hair and dragged it back and forth across her nipple. “You haven’t heard the latest. The shot that killed Carrington came from the roof of a restaurant across from his apartment building. The crime scene unit found quite a surprise.” Leigh shivered and pulled the strand of hair away from him.

“I hate that I’m already out of the loop.”

Not to be defeated, he used the tip of his finger to stroke her breast. “Jesus, I can’t get enough of you. I want to touch, feel, and taste.” He bent forward and licked the tip of her rosy nipple.

“Focus.” She chuckled low and sexy. “The surprise?”

“The sniper left a Winchester 700, the case, and a partial box of .338 bullets behind.”

“You think he got spooked or left them on purpose?” Her hand covered his.

“No way this bastard got scared. He retired.”

“I agree. He’s too methodical to experience fear.”

“Exactly. He’d never panic and leave his weapon unless it was intentional. He’d risk capture first. His rifle was part of him...an extra appendage. He made a statement. Carrington was his last execution.”

She leaned back as if trying to get a better look at him in the moonlight. “Am I misreading you, or do I detect admiration in your voice?”

“Not admiration. Major curiosity. What drove him over the edge—made him believe he had the right to become judge and jury?”

“When you find him, you can ask.”

Even in the dim light, the disappointment on her face stabbed him in the chest. “Catching him now will take a miracle. I’m sorry you won’t be there with us.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “You’ll get him. Congratulations, you were right about his choice of weapon.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” He tried to lighten the mood, anything to make her smile.

“Not in my mind. What do you do now?”

“Hope he makes a mistake. If he’s retired for good, he’ll be hard to catch.”

“We should’ve talked to Jason. Made him listen.” She shifted her weight on a sigh. “I had so many mixed feelings. There were times I wished I hadn’t told you the sniper had offered to help. I almost didn’t.”

“But you did. Because you believe in life.”

“I should feel worse, have some remorse another human being is dead. I don’t. I’m not glad, but I am relieved.”

“I get that. Nobody should live in fear the way you have. The lab’s confirmation the dead guy was Carrington must’ve taken a load off your mind.”

“You have no idea.”

She stood and offered him her hand.

“Come back to bed. Unless you’re hungry. We sort of skipped supper.”

“Let’s see...” J.T.’s gaze slid up her long, lean body and came to rest on deep blue eyes. “You, naked in the moonlight, or food. I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Good. I’ll fix breakfast and send you home in time to change into your
Men in Black
persona.”

He ignored her wisecrack. “I’m proud of you for not letting the chief get under your skin.” J.T. backed toward the bed.

“Hey. You said I was good at my job, and I would never doubt a Federal agent’s word.”

“You’ve handled the pressure a lot better than I would have.” His palms warmed as he stroked her soft skin.

“I may be sensitive, but I’m not weak.”

“That’s my girl.”

Leigh pushed him flat on his back and straddled him. Her breasts, creamy white in the moonlight, swayed with her movement. His mouth watered. He propped up on his elbows and angled his head in for a taste.

She leaned out of reach. “Am I?”

Barely aware she’d spoken, he lay back on the pillow. “Are you what?”

“Am I your girl?”

Her question flipped his brain upside down and turned his voice box switch off. He gripped her thighs and managed to force one word out. “Leigh.”

Shit. He’d choked getting her name out. Her muscles tightened, tendons became rigid under his hands.

“Forget it. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Leigh,” he repeated, still sounding like a frog.

She rolled off him, turned her back, and fiddled with her alarm. “Seriously. Forget I asked.”

Her tone left no room for more conversation. She drew the sheet over them, obviously through talking to him. He slid his arm around her waist. She lay perfectly still, catching his hand in hers.

He should say something. Anything. Instead, he lay in the dark, his thoughts racing through his brain at the speed of light. Eventually, her body relaxed. Her breathing grew soft and steady. He’d missed the perfect opportunity to tell her how much she meant to him.

****

Thursday, May 20, 7:30 a.m.

The aroma of food led J.T. to Leigh’s kitchen. A hot shower had given his nerves time to calm down and him a chance to think about last night. How damn easy it should’ve been to answer her with a simple fucking yes. Of course, she was his girl. And more. Much more.
What’s up with the mental lockdown?

He’d known the time would come to readdress their relationship. Hadn’t he been honest from the beginning? No matter how he felt down deep, he’d do the right thing for her and Ethan. Truth was, the right thing wasn’t him. Yet he couldn’t walk away from her. Not now. Not yet. His soul turned inside out at the idea of not having her near.

“Something smells good.” He stopped in the doorway, hoping the tension between them had eased.

The corners of her mouth lifted. No doubt, she was remembering his earlier slapstick performance when her alarm clock had sent him flying across the room. It had accomplished a couple of things. He’d gotten out of bed. More importantly, she’d folded over laughing.

“Perfect timing.” Leigh set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the table next to a steaming cup of coffee. “Eat. Or you’ll be late.”

He ignored the aroma assaulting his empty stomach. A need to be near her, to hold her, propelled him across the room. He gathered her in his arms, advancing until she leaned against the counter. “I called work. Left word I’d had a heart attack and might not be in today.”

He bracketed her with his hands on the tile, leaned down, and kissed her softly. A thank-God-you’re-in-my-life kiss. A forgive-me-for-being-a-fool kiss. A don’t-make-me-live-without-you kiss. He hoped to convey what he should’ve said to her last night. What he needed to put into words this morning. He leaned back and studied her face. Again, his tongue locked to the roof of his mouth.

Her eyes communicated nothing. “You think Casey will buy that excuse?”

“It’s the truth. That alarm took me straight to cardiac arrest.” His stomach protested loudly. He sat and forked in a mouthful of eggs. “You always been hard to wake up?”

“Just since the phone calls started coming every hour. Even now, I have trouble sleeping. A creak in the house, wind howling through the trees, or a car idling down the street snaps me wide awake and has me reaching for my gun. When I finally fall asleep, it’s hard and deep.”

“Jason’s dead. Maybe now, you can lower the volume.” He washed down a moan of appreciation for the home cooking with a swallow of strong coffee.

“I hope so.” She fixed herself a plate and then joined him.

They needed to talk about last night. He was in too deep to lose her. He opened his mouth and brain freeze returned, blocking out the right words. When his cell buzzed, he ignored it. Instead, he ate and drafted sentences in his mind.

“Aren’t you answering that?”

“No.”

Her jaw dropped. “It may be important.”

“This is important.”

“This? ‘This’ is breakfast between two friends. Answer your phone.”

He hated talking about his feelings, but her frosty use of the word “friends” was a land mine, and his foot hovered over the blasting cap. One way or another, they had to clear the air. He forced his mouth open and pushed words out.

“We need to talk about last night.”

There.
Now he’d committed himself to clearing the air.

“There’s nothing to say. We had great sex.” She batted her eyelashes and waved her fork through the air. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Jesus Christ. The spear she’d thrown hit him right in the heart. He hated to make bad matters worse. “Can we be serious?”

“If this is a brush off, get it over with.” She laid down her fork and leveled her gaze at him. “Otherwise, leave it alone.”

“A brush off? That’s the dumbest...” He had no response to such a stupid statement. Other than his grandmother, he’d never cared enough about a woman to stick around and argue with her. In the past, he’d cut his losses and walked away. No way would he do that with Leigh. Not having her near, in his life, was unimaginable.
Tell her.

Her fingers drummed on the table. “I’m dumb? As in stupid?”

“Bad choice of words. Sore spots, left alone fester.”

“You saw me naked last night. Did you notice any open wounds on me? And you’re overthinking what I said.”

He stared at her. Did she expect him to believe that crap? He recognized the warning signs. There was a wound all right...one as big as Mt. Vesuvius. His cell buzzed a second time.

“Answer your damn phone.” She used her don’t-argue-with-me-Ethan expression.

But J.T. wasn’t a child.

“No.” God help him if Casey needed something.

“We’re not having a conversation about last night.” She shoved her plate away and narrowed her eyes. “I asked a question I shouldn’t have, and you overreacted. Forget it and move on.”