When the Storm Breaks (13 page)

Washington, D.C.

Monday afternoon

S
ean walked through the doors to the police station late on Monday afternoon in a bad mood. He’d been working in the field all day, doing follow-up interviews with the investigating officers of several murders that might be related to the current case. The work had given him the excuse to avoid Aidan. The two men hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since they had left Camelot’s offices yesterday.

The object of Sean’s anger was hunched over a pad of paper on his desktop, making notes and rubbing his jaw. He looked up when Sean went to his own desk.

“How did your interviews go?” Aidan asked.

“Nothing new. The cases go so far back the lead officers couldn’t remember much more than they had written in their notes.”

“What about redoing some of the forensics?” Technological advance was one of the most powerful tools of the Cold Cases Division. Many outstanding investigations had been solved simply by applying new tools to old evidence.

“Already in the works.”

Aidan nodded, then went back to his paper.

The silence finally got to Sean. It was one thing for him to be mad at Aidan, who had damn well earned it. It was another for Aidan to ignore him.

“What have you been working on all day?” Sean asked.

“Ways to use Claire and the Camelot catalogue without undue risk to her safety,” Aidan said casually.

“There’s no way to use her without putting her at risk. End of discussion.” Sean jerked off his light jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. Sweat outlined the shoulder harness.

“I said minimal risk, not no risk. It’s our best hope of nailing the killer. We have her full and eager cooperation.”

“She isn’t a cop. She doesn’t have any special training.” Sean paced, arguing with himself as much as Aidan. “We can’t just throw her to the wolves because it
might
help us solve the case.”

“Shit. I’ve met S.W.A.T. guys who weren’t as tough as Claire. With some prep work we can turn her into a valuable asset. And what’s more, it will let us keep a closer eye on her. She can do this, Sean. Or have you been so dazzled by the flesh that you haven’t seen that cold-rolled steel backbone of hers?”

“Hell yes, I’ve seen it.” Sean’s voice was low, raw. He’d kept waking up in a cold sweat last night, imagining Claire alone, at the mercy of a killer who gutted his helpless victims. “How do you protect someone who won’t admit she’s in danger? If we use her, I’m afraid we won’t be able to pull her out before she’s hurt. Or dead. It scares the hell out of me.”

Aidan stayed silent.

Sean sat down and leaned forward in his chair, elbows
braced on his knees while he scrubbed his face with his hands.

“There’s only one way to make sure she’s safe,” Aidan said, “and that’s to yank the bastard off the streets. If we work with Claire we can monitor her every move. That’s a lot better than wondering what the hell she’s up to, isn’t it?”

“I don’t like it,” Sean said. “My gut says this is a one-way ticket to hell for Claire. Get her out of Washington. Hell, ship her to Bora Bora.”

“She wouldn’t go. It’s not in her to back down from a fight. And it’s not in you, either,” Aidan said pointedly.

Sean slumped in the chair. “This is one fight where I’m completely outgunned. I’ve never been attracted to a witness or a team member before. The only thing keeping me from jumping her is distance.”

“Yeah, that complicates things, but you’re a professional. You can handle it. And when it’s all over, well, it’s about time you saw a woman you liked well enough to get tied in knots about. Whatever, I’ll back you to the wall.”

“Hell, I know that. It’s just—” Sean stopped as he saw his captain walk in and head straight toward them. “Captain Michaels.”

“Didn’t Burke tell you I’d be by?” the captain asked, pulling up a chair and straddling it.

“I was just getting to that,” Aidan said. His eyes told Sean to brace himself. “The captain wants to make sure we’re looking at
all
our options.”

“Use the witness,” Michaels said bluntly. “She’s willing, we’re willing, and the press is getting restless. If we don’t get somewhere soon, this case will bite us on the ass.”

“Why?” Sean asked.

“Politics,” Aidan said.

“Fuck politics.”

The captain just looked at Sean.

“Beautiful,” Sean muttered. “Think of the nifty headlines if we use our witness and get her killed.”

“Your concern is noted,” Michaels said to Sean. “We’ll follow every precaution—keep her wired, have you two ride along ahead and behind, run full background checks on all of the men she dates, only meet in public places we have secured. You know the drill.”

“She’s a civilian. Why can’t we use a policewoman?” Sean asked.

“He’s seen her driver’s license photo, remember?” Aidan said.

“Hell, my own mother couldn’t ID me from my driver’s license photo,” Sean retorted.

“Your mother needs glasses,” the captain said. “Even if you’re right about it, we can’t afford to detail any more bodies to this case. You and Burke are the best investigators I’ve got in this division. I’m counting on you to make the dating sting work before the press makes sure our next budget is even smaller than the one we have now.”

Captain Michaels stood up, returned the chair to its original position, and straightened his suit coat. “I’ll expect to see your detailed plan within twenty-four hours, along with some requisition forms.”

Washington, D.C.

Monday night

C
laire made a sound of annoyance as she set her cup down on the table next to Afton’s comfortable couch. It was after eleven and she couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to sleep, actually. When she did, her dreams were dark and disjointed, and she was no closer to remembering anything than she had been the night she was injured.

After going to bed early with a headache and jerking awake in a cold sweat, she’d decided that sleep was not going to happen again for a while. She took a warm bath with scented oil to help her relax. When that didn’t work, she quietly went downstairs for a cup of herbal tea and some mindless channel surfing. That didn’t do anything either. All she could think about was the killer, and how he might have been following her—watching her—before he sent his frightening “gift.”

She jolted at the sudden knock on the door, then realized one of the officers watching the house from the outside must need something. Tightening the belt on her short robe, she walked barefoot to the door.

“Who is it?” Claire called softly, aware of Olivia sleeping upstairs.

“Sean. We need to talk.”

Claire looked down at her outfit, then shrugged. Sean had seen her in less at the hospital. She opened the door.

He came into the entry and looked down at her. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, and her hair was pulled back into some kind of knot. She looked pale and tired, but still beautiful. He swept his eyes lower, running them over the short, jewel-toned robe she wore belted around her waist, then taking in her pale legs and bare feet. Abruptly he realized how late it was.

He checked his watch and cursed. After eleven. He’d been driving around for several hours, planning for the new path the investigation was going to take and telling himself that he could keep his hands off his witness. When he’d pulled up at the house, he hadn’t even thought about the time. All the downstairs lights had been on, which was enough to have him out of his car and banging on the door without a second thought.

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour. The light was on, so…anyway, we can talk tomorrow.” He turned away.

“I can’t sleep. You can’t sleep.” She shrugged. “You might as well come in. Olivia’s out cold, so don’t yell at me and wake her up.” Claire led Sean into the kitchen and closed the swinging door behind them. “You want anything to eat or drink?”

He looked at her loosely closed robe and knew he should never have come here. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath—he’d bet his life on it.

“No, thanks,” Sean managed to say.

Instead of fidgeting or cleaning something, as she desperately wanted to do, she folded her arms underneath her
breasts and leaned against the butcher block that formed an island in the kitchen.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

Sean faced her with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “There’s been a change of plans—you’re in on the investigation. We’ll be using you to try and draw the killer out of hiding. Of course, that’s assuming he really is a member of Camelot Dating Services in the first place.”

Claire felt a brief surge of triumph, like when she found out she’d been awarded a sales contract or a particularly challenging project. Then she realized Sean was angry.

“You don’t sound very pleased,” she said.

“I’m not. If I had my way, you’d be in protective custody right now, instead of staked out like a sacrificial lamb.”

“So why did you agree to the plan?”

“I didn’t. The political heat is burning my captain’s ass, he outranks me, and here I am.” Sean began pacing the length of the kitchen, ticking off an imaginary list of items. “So this is the drill. We’ll bring you in for a crash course in self-defense—nothing major, just some close quarters stuff. We need to explain how the audio and visual surveillance is going to work, because you’ll be wired for sound and will have visual contact with two officers at all times. There will also be some basic ground rules for ‘dates’ which Aidan and I have to draft and go over with you.” He stopped with his back to her. “Questions?”

She sensed his rapid-fire summary of details was meant to overwhelm and intimidate her. And it was working. “Why don’t you want me involved? Do you think I can’t pull it off?”

Sean sighed and ran a hand through his hair, but he didn’t turn around and face her. “If sheer will and determination
were all it took, I have no doubt you’d succeed. But this guy is good. He’s been active for a long time, probably close to a decade. You don’t get away with that many murders by being stupid.”

“Then catching him however you can should be your number one priority.”

Sean turned around and came back to stand in front of her as she leaned against the butcher block. She caught her breath at the look in his eyes.

“Not if it means risking you,” he said.

She swallowed hard before answering. “I’m at risk whether I’m an active team member or not.”

“I know. But I have a really bad feeling about this whole setup. If I could, I’d take you away somewhere and—” Sean broke off.

“And what?” God, was that really her voice? Somehow the question had come out husky and suggestive.

He stepped closer to her, his nostrils flaring slightly as he caught the light scent of orange that clung to her skin. He looked into her eyes, which were pure black in the dimly lit kitchen, and saw a mirror image of the simmering tension he was feeling. His heart began to beat faster. He lifted a hand that was none too steady to her face, gently brushing aside a dark curl that had settled on her forehead.

“I think we both know what I’d like to do,” Sean said. Then his breath came in hard when she leaned closer to him, more an emotional closing of the distance than physical. “Help me out here. One of us has got to be reasonable.”

“Let me know when it’s my turn,” Claire said.

She turned her face up to his, stood on her tiptoes, and brushed her lips softly against his mouth. He withstood the temptation for one brush of her lips, then another. By the third delicate pass he was gone. Kissing her back, he
made a rough sound in his throat, then slid both hands around her waist and boosted her up onto the butcher block. Before she could murmur her approval, her knees were spread and he’d stepped into the space between, using one hand on her bottom to pull her closer to him.

The combination of Sean’s tongue stroking into her mouth and his hand pressing her into his body was almost too much for Claire to handle. She cried out softly, the sound muffled by his lips. She moaned again and pressed herself against him instinctively, rubbing against his suddenly taut lower body in search of the sweet contact that would satisfy needs suddenly screaming through her system.

At the repeated pressure of her hips against his, Sean broke off the kiss to groan quietly against her throat.

“God, Claire, don’t. I can’t take it.”

He stayed there, with his head buried in the curve where neck met shoulder, and breathed in the exotic scent of orange oil trapped there. Her neck arched gently against his mouth, so he began to delicately kiss and nibble her soft skin. He felt her legs wrap tightly around him, thighs hugging his hips, while her hands reached inside his lightweight jacket to pull his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans.

Sean knew things were sliding out of control, and he didn’t care. Claire’s hands were under his shirt, reaching as far up his bare back as she could with his weapon harness on. At the gentle scrape of her nails, his body tensed, and he abandoned her neck to press his mouth to hers again.

“More,” she murmured between kisses, “more.”

The word repeated itself again and again in Claire’s mind, but she didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud.

Sean did, and responded. Pulling himself away from her, ignoring her muted protest at the loss of contact, he stripped off his jacket and shoulder holster, put them on the counter, and reached for the belt of her silk robe. Within seconds he had the knot undone and was pushing fabric aside to reveal the bare flesh underneath. He studied her full breasts hungrily, feeling her eyes on his face. Looking up, he met her gaze and watched her cheeks flush a dusky red, even as she arched her back slightly to offer herself to him.

Her deep rose nipples were already hard. They tightened further when he ran the back of one knuckle along the delicate underside of first one breast, then the other.

“Don’t tease,” she gasped.

She gripped a double handful of his shirt, then smoothed her hands over his chest and began to undo the buttons running down to his waist.

“That’s half the fun, Claire,” he said, repeating her name as she ran her hands across his bare chest.

Bending over, he coasted his lips over the tops of her breasts, then turned and dragged his open mouth across a taut nipple. With one hand he arched her up against his lips and caressed her until she was flushed and tingling. With his other hand he stroked the gentle curve of her belly, edging toward the aching place between her thighs.

He paused to circle her navel, and her breath came in on a gasp. When he speared a thumb into the dark hair below and dragged across the tender flesh hidden there, her breath left in a soft cry. He kissed her lips gently, then used the arm around her hips to drag her to the very edge of the butcher block. Bending to take one nipple into his mouth and suckle in earnest, he began to run his thumb around and around the slick nub he had drawn forth.

Claire’s head dropped back as her body responded to his skilled teasing. She no longer explored his chest, but instead dug her nails repeatedly into the firm pads of muscle she found there. When she felt his hand press against one knee, then the other, she relaxed her thighs to allow him further access.

Her eyes snapped open and met his when she felt a long finger circling the moist entrance to her body. Sean’s pupils were dilated with passion, and the moment became almost unbearably intimate as he maintained eye contact and gently pushed his finger inside her.

She made a soft noise, part pleasure and part protest, when he began to caress her with thumb and forefinger. Her thighs were shaking against his hips, and her breath came in gentle pants, but she didn’t pull away from him or his intent gaze.

When she felt a second finger join the first inside her slick body, then pause to find and stroke an unbelievably sensitive spot, Claire jerked in Sean’s arms. Finally, her eyes closed under the rush of pleasure, and her head once again dropped backwards, baring her neck to his hungry lips.

The motion of his hand between her legs continued, first probing deeply then retreating to stab teasingly with his thumb. Claire quickly reached the point of no return. She was taut in his arms, a rosy flush rising from her breasts up her neck.

“Stop,” she whispered, blindly fumbling for his belt.

Sean didn’t respond, just continued the stroking and probing caresses with his hand. His eyes were fixed on her face as he watched the changes pleasure brought.

The pressure built higher than it ever had for her. Before she realized it was going to happen, the tension inside
her snapped. She cried out sharply as she came, a sound he belatedly tried to stifle by pressing his mouth over hers and kissing her deeply. She moaned and moved against him as the waves of completion rolled through her.

The kiss gentled as Claire’s breathing gradually slowed. Sean lifted both hands to frame her face, his eyes slightly open as he looked at her. He continued the kisses, moving his head one way, then the other, gentling her and preparing for the next level of sensation.

He laughed softly against her lips when she began to pull at his belt again. This time he helped her. Soon his belt and button fly were opened, and Claire was running a hand through the slit in his boxers to brush against the hard flesh beneath. He murmured something encouraging but kept his lips pressed to hers.

The contact between their mouths wasn’t broken until they heard the kitchen door swing open. Sean jerked away from Claire’s mouth and looked over her head as Olivia walked into the room.

“Claire? I thought I heard something—oops!” Olivia’s face turned as red as her hair.

Claire remained frozen in horror for a moment before jerking her hand out of Sean’s jeans. With her back to Olivia, she hoped that she shielded all of the important parts of Sean’s body, though there was no way to pretend they hadn’t been doing what it looked like they were doing. Feeling a scorching blush work its way up her body, she dropped her face against him.

Sean and Olivia stared at each other across the kitchen, she in her light floral robe and he with his shirt and jeans undone, standing between Claire’s bare legs and cradling her head to his chest. He opened his mouth, but his brain shorted out. He couldn’t think of anything to say, so instead
he pulled Claire’s robe up from her elbows to around her shoulders. He could actually feel the heat of her blush against his skin.

Olivia finally broke the moment of shared embarrassment. With a mumbled apology, she turned around and fled the kitchen.

Jolted by the
whap-slap
of the door as it swung open and closed in Olivia’s wake, Sean finally stepped back from Claire and started to fasten his jeans. He winced at having to force his still aroused flesh past the rough denim of his fly, then he buttoned his shirt and reached for his shoulder harness.

With her face still painfully scarlet, Claire snapped her knees together and fumbled to belt the robe around her waist. She remained seated on the kitchen island, however, because she didn’t trust her legs to hold her up. Pulling the hem of her robe as far down her thighs as it would go, she broke the awkward silence.

“That’s got to be on the top ten list of reasons why I don’t have a roommate,” she said.

Sean laughed almost unwillingly as he pulled his lightweight jacket back on. His eyes were unhappy as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry. About this.” He gestured toward her position on the wood block. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Done what?” she asked, deliberately misunderstanding. “Laughed? I think you should do it more often.”