Chapter Six

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, but Linc didn’t like the way they fit.

Taige Morgan. Freak, fraud or enigma, he didn’t know which, but the bottom line was, when she showed up on the scene, crazy crimes were solved. Sometimes with a happy ending, sometimes not, but they were solved.

She had a connection to Jay.

Jay had a connection to him.

It didn’t matter that he’d tried to cut that connection, because it was still there, a strong, unbreakable thread that even now tried to draw him to her.

But there were still secrets.

She sat there, pale as death, blood an ugly stain against her flesh, and her eyes locked on his. He saw the secrets in the back of her eyes. The picture of him with DeeDee had set this off. Taige had carefully put it back on the table and he’d noticed she’d taken a lot of effort not to look at it, not to touch it any more than necessary.

Unable to hold Jay’s gaze any longer, he turned on his heel and stormed out of his study, heading down the hall. She had blood on her. She’d want to clean up. He could get stuff for that, maybe a butterfly bandage for that cut, something. A clean shirt. And give his brain time to settle.

Why was she here?

His brain skittered away from that, unwilling to linger on that very long.

Because he couldn’t. He didn’t want to think about it.

Although once he hit the kitchen, he stumbled, hitting the wall and bringing up his hands, unable to think about anything else for the next couple of minutes. Shuddering, trying to hold back the agony, he slammed his head against the wall while screams boiled and raged in his gut.

DeeDee…

“Please, God.” He voiced that single prayer, unable to say anything else. He couldn’t even put his thoughts into words. He didn’t know if he was praying for closure, and he didn’t know if he was praying to find her safe—he was a fucking cop and he knew how unlikely it was at this point. He didn’t know what he prayed for, but as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, he prayed to a God he’d stopped believing in. If the Man existed, Linc hoped, for his daughter’s sake, God would understand his desperate prayer better than he did.

He gave himself a few more minutes and then he shoved off the wall, moved to one of the cabinets and grabbed a bowl, filled it halfway with lukewarm water and found a couple of hand towels.

On the way back, he paused by the laundry and found a loose T-shirt. The skin-tight, long-sleeved shirt she wore was going to need washing.

She could probably use a shower.

Thoughts of a wet, naked Jay were a bit of a distraction, but not much. His gut was still a hot, nasty snarl, and when he strode back into the library, she gave him a lost look that made him want to howl.

She shouldn’t look lost.

Jay was attitude, killer curves and sexy ink and wicked smiles.

She shouldn’t ever look lost like that.

She caught sight of him and, like it had never existed, the look melted away, replaced by a careful, blank mask. Setting his jaw, he came into the room and strode to the table. Taige tried to block him but he ignored her as he dipped the rag into the water and set about cleaning the blood from her face. “Have you ever had a concussion?” he asked Jay as she tried to pull away from him.

“Yes.” She sighed as he ignored her attempts to pull back from him, finally turning her head so he could clean the blood from her face and neck.

“How is your head?”

“Sore. Not sore enough for a concussion, I don’t think. I’ll just have a headache for a while.” She winced as he started to clean the area near the wound.

“Bleeding is slowing down.” He grabbed the other towel, wished he’d thought to grab his first-aid kit, but his brain had been…elsewhere. It had been like that since DeeDee’s disappearance. “Head wounds bleed like a bitch, but they usually aren’t bad. Do you want to go to the ED? It’s a drive, though. About thirty minutes.”

She grimaced. “No.”

He nodded again and continued to apply pressure. Without taking his eyes from hers, he said, “Taige. I need to talk to Jay. Alone.”

Before she left, Taige had sent her a look.

Jay felt the quiet press on her mind but she just sent the other woman a swift shake of her head. “I’m good. Go.” A minute later, Taige and Cullen left. That man of hers didn’t talk much. He was…well, almost like her shadow. As the door shut behind them, she closed her eyes and braced herself, wondered just what she was in store for.

Deep inside, though, she already knew, and it had nothing to do with being a psychic and everything to do with being a woman.

Some secrets just weren’t good ones to keep, not when you were trying to build a relationship with a man.

Although how they could have brought this one out in the open, she just didn’t know.

A fine tremor shook her and she clenched her hands together to keep from reaching for him, to keep from letting him see how she was shaking.

This was going to be bad, she realized. Really, really bad.

“FBI, huh?”

She slid him a look from under her lashes and then looked away.

“I’m not with the FBI.” Then she shrugged and added, “Not anymore.”

“But you were?”

She sighed and brushed her hair back. “For a very brief time. Less than a year.” She couldn’t, and she wouldn’t, go into details about why she’d left, but that wasn’t the issue, not really.

Linc was a cop, and he’d understand if she had to keep certain issues quiet because of the job. The job mattered.

What he might have trouble with was…her.

Feeling the weight of his stare, she turned her head and met his gaze dead on. Rising from the couch, she slid her hands into her pockets and rocked back into her heels. Attitude and bravado had gotten her through a lot in life. If you can’t make it, fake it. Sooner or later, she’d get through.

“Why don’t you just ask me what it is you want to ask?” she suggested.

He lifted a brow.

Then, smoothing a hand back over the smooth surface of his scalp, he turned and moved across the room until he was standing on the far end. Like that distance between them just then was crucial.

It hurt, she thought. Seeing him put that space between them hurt. “Ask you what I want to ask,” he echoed, “but just where to begin?”

“The beginning is always a good place.”

His laugh was a rough, humorless grumble in the room, sending shivers down her spine. “You know much about Morgan there?”

Staring at the long, taut line of his back, she tried to follow his line of thinking, then scowled. Morgan. Taige. Jay was used to thinking of her as Taige Branch, although she’d been married for years. “Yeah, I know bits and pieces.”

“Bits and pieces. Ever seen anything about her in the news?”

“You believe everything you read about or hear about in the news?” Jay asked mockingly.

He shot her a dark look. “So you’re telling me it’s crap?”

She could tell him that. She could lie. She might even be able to make him believe her.

But it would be just that. A lie.

As the sour taste of bile and anger crawled up her throat, she looked away. “No. I can’t tell you it’s crap.”

His sigh echoed through the room, terribly loud. “And why am I not surprised?”

She closed her eyes.

“How do you know her, Jay?”

She slicked her palms down her jeans, felt the frayed and ripped holes, the warmth of her skin through them. Her palms felt icy by comparison. “You already know the answer, Linc.”

“Now…how would I know that?” His voice was a menacing whisper as he turned to stare at her. “I’m not the psychic in this room, am I?”

Jay looked at him.

He glared back at her, his face stark, almost savage with anger. “You going to tell me now?” he snarled, crossing the room to fist his hand in the front of her shirt. He jerked her close, bending down until he was nose to nose with her. “Or were you going to wait until one of you had to come to my door and tell me that my daughter was dead?”

“Linc…”

Her voice was soft, sad.

The sympathy in her eyes practically tore him open.

When she lifted a hand to touch his cheek, the very last thing he needed to do was stand there, let her touch him when he was feeling so raw.

Her fingers brushed his skin and he caught her wrist, twisted it behind her back and glared down at her. “Don’t,” he panted, pressing his brow to hers. “Don’t stand there and look at me like that if that’s why you’ve come.”

“It’s not.”

Her voice was steady, gentle as a soft summer rain, but the truth was stamped on her face. “I came down here to have it out with you, the way you went and dumped me, you big ass.” She shoved his shoulder with her free hand, then her hand curled into his shirt, her fingers kneading at him like a little cat. “I didn’t even know you had a daughter.”

The relief that hit him was almost devastating. Head swimming, he collapsed back against the windowsill, clutching her against him. “But you… Morgan…”

“My boss.” She rested her brow against his chest. “I had a feeling there was going to be trouble and she sent Taige here to help me cover my ass. Linc, there are some big-ass problems going on here and I need to know what’s going on with your daughter.”

He stared at her face, her eyes vivid and intent.

The tension, the fear that had been mounting in him for the past hour—more—felt like it abruptly drained out of him. A little pop practically sounded in his ear and he sagged, hauling her against him, uncaring of the blood that stained her shirt. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

He had a reprieve.

He was a cop and he knew what the truth was, knew it waited for him.

But that wasn’t why Jay was here.

All that frustration and fear came out of him in a shaking sigh and he slowly lifted his head, stared into her eyes.

Then, focused on just one thing, he nodded. “That’s not why you came.”

She touched his cheek. “No.”

Eyes closed, he pressed his brow to hers. Everything else could wait. He drew her body against his, breathed in the warm, soft scent of her. Right now, this was all that mattered. He could have one night where he pushed everything to the side…right?

The shower was made of jet black and jade and gold and it was the last place she’d expected to be.

Her head spinning, off-balance from too little sleep, too much emotion and everything else that was going wrong in this bloody town, Jay reached up, rubbing her temple as Linc locked the door behind her.

“Why are we in here?” she asked, feeling a little stupid as he turned toward her and hunkered down at her feet. “We need to talk.”

“Morning.” That was the only thing he said.

“Morning?” Staring at the crown of his head, she tried to process that word.

Linc leaned in and pressed his lips to her thigh. He found one of those rips in her jeans, his mouth unerringly seeking her flesh. “Do you honestly have anything to tell me that is going to change anything that’s going on right now?” he asked, his voice raw. “Because I can’t think of a fucking thing that I can tell you that will change shit.”

Jay blinked, trying to process that question.

Did she have anything…?

Her brain was overloaded. Her senses were strained to the breaking point. Even if he tried to tell her jack and she tried to take it in, she had to have rest before she could do anything more. But they could talk—

His hands pulled her boots away, stroked up her calves. “I didn’t want to hear it,” he muttered, leaning in and pressing his lips to her hip. “I’ve read some of her cases, how she’s closed them and I know, in my gut, that too much time has passed and I didn’t want to hear it. I won’t hear it.” Then he slid up, his hands under her close-fitting shirt, and the shocking feel of his calloused palms on her skin sucked the air right out of her lungs. “I can’t… I just…don’t. If that’s what you are, what you had to tell me…I…fuck, I’m glad that’s not why you’re here.”

Abruptly, he stood up and yanked the shirt off. She blinked, startled. Head spinning, she braced her hands on the counter at her back and gaped at him as he caught his own shirt and all but tore it away. “Tell me you came for this,” he rasped, bending down and catching her face. “Tell me this matters.”

The words were trapped in her throat, but it didn’t matter because his mouth was on hers, his tongue stealing between her lips.

How could she tell him she’d come for this when she’d never been able to have this?

That the feel of hands skimming around her back and pulling her close, like he’d just done, was completely alien?

And completely delightful.

She whimpered as he pressed his mouth to the curve of her neck as his hand cradled the back of her head. “How do you feel?” he muttered, rubbing his lips across hers. “Should I stop?”

Stop?

If he stopped, she was going to cry.

As it was, the way she felt when he pushed his thigh between hers was almost more than she could bear and she arched against him, wiggling, ready to push him to his back and ride him like a cowgirl. She clutched at him, her fingers digging into his arms, her nails digging into his skin as the friction of his thigh dragging back and forth teased, taunted.

She dragged her nails down his chest, curled them over his waistband.

Now.

That was all she could think.

Now.

“Jay?”

He tugged harder on her head and she looked up at him, her eyes struggling to focus. “What?” It ripped out of her, half snarl, half sob and her entire body trembled as she struggled not to rock against him, not to ride and chase after the ache that threatened to drive her insane.

“Do I stop?” he muttered again, this time whispering the question against her mouth.

“Stop?” She glared at him. “If you stop, I’m going to hurt you.”

“You ought to rest.” He feathered his thumb over the shallow cut he’d bandaged. There was still a little blood that had dried in her hair and she could feel the dull ache of a headache, a vision that had hit her too hard, too fast. Not to mention the ominous weight of what was waiting for her. Behind the curtain, she thought, a shiver racing through her. It wasn’t ready for her to see yet, and even if she tried to push for more, it wouldn’t come out. Not until it was time.

Yes, she should rest.

Yes, they should talk.

But as she ran her hands up the wall of his chest and hooked them behind his neck, she knew once they did, this was over. This wouldn’t happen.

For once in her life, she wanted to feel. To know what it was like to have a man’s hands glide over her and experience nothing but the utter bliss of his touch, none of his emotions bleeding in, none of his thoughts, none of his doubts.

She wanted to know what it was like to feel a body pressing against hers and to know she was wanted.

Just once.

Maybe this chance would never come up again, but at least she had the chance now. Morning would come and the truth would come out and she’d have to face it. She’d deal with it then.

Rising onto her toes, she pressed her lips to his. “I can rest any time.” She could rest any other night other than now and she could be alone any other night other than now. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

His hands came around her waist, pulled her up against him and her eyes closed at the utter bliss of it.

Even as her heart started to break.

If that’s what you are, what you had to tell me…I…fuck, I’m glad that’s not why you’re here.

Jay seemed to come alive under his hands and, if he hadn’t caught her hands, if he hadn’t slowed her down, he suspected she might have tried to pull him to her right there, with the counter against her hips and his jeans still around his ass.

If he were smart, he’d just stop this.

But for the first time in two months, there was something else in his head besides the grief and the ache and the misery. For one night, he could let that go, couldn’t he?

Tomorrow was time enough to go back to tearing this town apart, searching for answers.

Her fingers, cool as silk, closed around his cock and he groaned as she worked his jeans down with her free hand. “Slow down, darlin’,” he muttered, capturing her wrists and drawing them back. “Slow down.”

“I don’t want slow.”

He laughed hoarsely. “Slow isn’t going to happen. But we can do better than this.” He grimaced and looked around. The shower wasn’t a bad place, but fuck. “Damn it, I don’t know if I even have any condoms here.”

“I…” Her eyes darted away. “Stupid to even discuss this, I know. Grown adults should be smarter and all, but I’m on the pill. Necessary. I’m clear on everything else. We get physicals in my line of work pretty often.” She shrugged casually as she said it, her eyes moving down to watch as her hands roamed down his pectorals.

He shuddered as she scraped her nails over his nipples. “Yes. Grown adults should be smart. I don’t feel smart. It’s been close to three years since I was with anybody and I used a condom then—had a physical when I renewed my life insurance and we shouldn’t even be having this conversation.” He paused, stared into her vivid green eyes. “Are we going to be stupid?”

“Damn straight.”

She whimpered as he stroked his thumbs up to the V of her thighs. Through her jeans and panties, he could feel the heat of her and he wanted nothing more than to just strip her naked and fuck her, right there.

Instead, he freed the button of her jeans, tugged them down, along with her panties. When she went to touch him, he had to catch her hands again because if she touched him again, now that she was naked, he was going to just forget anything and everything but being inside her.

“Into the shower,” he said, pressing a kiss to her mouth, smiling as a long, slow shudder rocked her. She did that, a lot, like his touch was something that sent her very world quaking.

Dealing with his jeans, he urged her into the enclosure and turned on the jets. It was programmed to the temperature he preferred, and he watched as her eyes closed in bliss. He was going to enjoy this, slicking her down with his soap, washing her hair. As he slicked the shampoo through her pink- and blue-streaked hair, he was caught off-guard. The rainbow of color washed out and she smiled at him, a sleepy, sexy smile that turned his dick to stone and his heart to mush. “Hair chalk,” she said softly. “I don’t always have the sort of job that lets me walk around with pink and blue hair. Plus sometimes I want orange or green. Or orange and pink.”

“You’re into variety,” he murmured, rinsing the shampoo from strands made dark gold by the water.

He eased closer to the gash, checked the bandage. “Feel okay?” he asked, painfully aware of the rasp in his voice.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Just sore.”

He nodded, told himself he should finish this up, tuck her in bed.

He wouldn’t though, not unless that was what she wanted.

He turned her around, stroked his hands down her naked back. Pale skin, swirls of ink. “All these tattoos,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the vining roses that climbed up her spine. “They drive me nuts. Why roses?”

Her breath skittered out of her on a sigh and she glanced back at him, her hair dripping in her eyes. “My grandmother…reminds me of her. Happy memories. There were roses that climbed up the wall to the window of the room where I stayed when I visited.”

There were a lot of roses.

And thorns. Many thorns. “And the thorns?”

“For the pain.” Her eyes clouded and she looked back at the wall. “A lot of it, growing up. I put a thorn for the really bad memories.”

He had counted nearly three dozen thorns.

“When did you start doing these?” He pressed his lips to the deep, deep red rose blooming over one shoulder.

“When I was twenty-five.”

He paused, his hands tightening on her hips. Just what could linger over from childhood that a woman of twenty-five would feel the need to mark her flesh like this? Over and over? “Are the thorns done?”

For a long, long moment, she was quiet, the only sound the water raining down around them. Then she sighed, pressing her brow to the wall in front of her. “No. I’ll never be done, Linc.”

She turned around then and slid her hands around his waist, plastering her wet, naked body to his. “I don’t want to talk about the roses, the thorns… I don’t want to talk at all. I want you. Just you.”

He hesitated. In the back of his mind he suspected this was a mistake. There were things he needed to do, things they needed to say. And he couldn’t help but think how he planned on dragging this fucking town down with him. Into the pits of a very real hell. Making everybody who’d turned their backs on his daughter suffer.

Jay’s hands came up, cupped his face. “One night,” she whispered. Her lips were cool, soft against his, and the water slicked their bodies together. “We can have one night.”

One night.

He banded his arm around her waist and hauled her against him.

With his free hand, he fumbled and managed to turn off the shower.

If they only had the one night, he’d have her in his bed.

Where he’d dreamed of just this.

He moved out of the shower and she almost made him forget his intentions, almost made him lose his mind as she slid against him, wet and slick, the folds of her sex parting around him as she arched and moved, wiggling almost desperately.

“Now,” she muttered, leaning in to sink her teeth into his lower lip.

“Bed.” He cupped her ass in his hands, let himself explore those plump, ripe curves as he moved through the bathroom into his bedroom. He knew the way in the dark. Many a night he had paced the floors of his home, although it hadn’t happened quite like this.

Determined to keep his thoughts off that, he focused on Jay.

Coming to the bed, he put her on the wide, unmade surface and shoved the sheets, the comforter back. Robyn, his housekeeper, had quit after almost thirty years of working in the Mont Oak. That had been three weeks ago and, since then, the place had developed dust piles upon dust piles, although he did manage get through the basics—his own laundry, cooking when he had to eat.

Making beds was a waste of time, though. Except right now, he wished he had made the bed. Seen her spread out on his comforter of navy, with all that bright hair fanned out to frame her face, her bold green eyes watching him as he kissed his way down her torso.

Her nails bit into his shoulders as he pressed a kiss to her naval, traced a line down to her hip. Down, down, down until he could part the neatly trimmed curls with his tongue.

She was hot and wet and when he licked her, she arched up against him with a broken cry.

He circled her clit with his tongue, listened as his name caught on her lips in a sigh. Stroking one hand up her leg, he speared two fingers together and pressed against her. She resisted at first then yielded, closing around him hot and tight. A sound, startled, hot and sweet, fell from her lips. The next sound was muffled and he shot a look up at her just in time to see her shoving her hand against her mouth to smother the cry.

It was too much.

After years of feeling next to nothing, of forcing herself to feel next to nothing, now she was feeling everything and it was more than she could stand. One big hand slid under her ass, arched her up. The other… She shivered as he pumped his wrist, stroking his fingers in and out. Each scrape of his fingers over sensitive tissues dragged her higher, pushed her closer to a precipice she wasn’t sure she’d survive.

Abruptly, he stopped and she caught her breath as he came over her, dragging her wrist away from her mouth and twining their fingers together. “I want to hear you,” he growled against her lips. “Every broken sound. Every moan. Every scream. Whatever you feel, I want to hear it.” He dipped his head and licked her lips. “Don’t hide it from me.”

Stripped bare, she stared up at him as he shifted and reached down between them, tucking the head of his cock against her.

Oh, shit.

Stunned, she stared up at him. Felt him pressing harder.

The burning started.

She caught her breath, tried to blank her features as the burning gave way to the promise of real pain.

His hand on hers tightened. “Relax, Jay…” He dipped his head, rubbed his lips against hers. “Fuck, you’re so tight. Has it been a while?”

She managed to suck in a breath, tried not to whimper as he pulled out and surged in, deeper this time and that promise of pain became real pain. “Yeah. A while,” she tried to say.

It died in her throat as a startled cry ripped out of her.

He stiffened, slowly rising up, his weight braced on one elbow as he stared down at her.

“Jay?”

Her breath came in harsh, ragged gasps.

She could feel the hot wall of his chest against hers, her hair, still damp from the shower, clinging to her skull, and worst of all—or maybe best of all—she could feel him, the thick, heavy column of his cock, pulsing inside her. She twisted against him as another slow pulse echoed between them, a delicious little tease and a hot little pain all at once.

Linc groaned and reached down, steadying her with one hand on her hip. “Stop it, Jay. Look at me.”

She focused on his eyes, even though his chest was moving in a ragged rhythm against her own and the sensation of it had her nipples drawing tight, her breasts aching.

“How long?” he asked, his voice tight.

She blinked, confused. “What?”

“How long has it been?”

“Ahhhh…” She licked her lips.

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Oh…he could be distracted? She slid a hand up his chest, curved it over his neck and started to tug him down to meet her mouth. He started to comply but then he growled, tugging away.

That just sent him deeper and she whimpered, instinctively pressing her hips back into the mattress even as pleasure twisted through her.

“That’s it.” Linc caught her wrists, pinned them over her head.

She glared at him.

He glared back, but ruined it by dipping his head and tracing the line of her mouth with his tongue. “Tell me, Jay.” He circled his hips against her as he spoke and the soft, teasing little motions coaxed her into relaxing and she shuddered as he slid deeper.

“I…” Her breath caught in her lungs and then sighed, curling her captured hands into fists as he sank so far in, she could almost feel the heat of his pelvis pressing against her own. “Never, Linc.”

He tensed. Then, abruptly, he stilled, his weight braced on one trembling elbow as he pressed his brow to her chest.

Sliding one hand up his side, she held her breath. What was he going to do?

If he stopped—

His lips brushed against her skin, a silken caress.

“A better man might stop. If you waited this long, we should wait until we can do this right.” He withdrew his hips, lifting up, and waited until her eyes rose to his. Then, without waiting another breath, he surged deep, not stopping until he’d buried his length completely inside.

Her wail bounced off the walls.

Driving her heels into the mattress, she arched up, working to adjust to his invasion, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes.

He kissed them away. “I’m not a better man. I don’t care if my world is falling to shit and I don’t care if I’ll never have a better chance.” He pulled out, surged back inside, staring at her with naked, desperate need. “You came to me, damn it. You want this…say you want this.”

“I want this,” Jay said, her voice shaking. Her pussy was a silken virgin fist, clutching at his dick as he drove into her. He had little finesse and even less time for the gentleness she deserved.

But she arched up against him, her skin flushed, her breath coming harsh and fast and she strained in his imprisoning hold, the climax already rushing up on her. He could feel it, see it in her eyes.

He wanted to taste it on her as she came, but pulling away from her was impossible. Slowing down wasn’t going to happen.

Letting go of her wrists, he fisted one hand in her hair, tugged her head back. “Next time,” he said, refusing to think that there probably wouldn’t be a next time. She had to leave. He had to stay. “If there’s a next time, we’ll do this right.”

She started to speak, but he silenced her with a hungry kiss as he shifted higher on her body, moving so that he rode against her clit with each thrust.

She broke beneath him and he didn’t hold back another second, sinking into her with hard, driving thrusts.

It was a brief respite, the sweetest peace he’d had in far too long.

A peace that ended far too soon.