'You will die,' he said with malice. 'You will
She wrenched her wrist free and stumbled backward, coming up against Ski but remaining transfixed by Oren's maniacal gaze. Then suddenly his eyelids fluttered again. His throat bowed hideously. His head slammed back into the pillow, knocking askew the gauze that had been covering the hole in the side of his skull and the brain matter bulging out of it. His body began to buck uncontrollably.
'He's seizing,' one of the nurses said in an urgent voice.
Ski turned Berry away and propelled her from the room. Outside in the corridor, she fell into his arms.
CHAPTER 27
SKI KNEW THAT IF HE'D RETURNED TO THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE immediately following Oren Starks's death, he would have been beset by reporters and other deputies, all salivating to know the grisly details. He needed some downtime before returning to the fray, so he was making calls from his kitchen table.
Besides, he could better handle outstanding matters here, where he wouldn't be constantly interrupted. He had his cell phone, a carafe of strong coffee, and a checklist of people to call. First was Sheriff Drummond, who expressed appropriate concern over the wasted life of Oren Starks, then commended Ski on his capture.
'It was a coordinated effort, sir.'
The sheriff dismissed his humility, then asked about Caroline and Berry, and after Ski had assured him that they were as well as could be expected, the sheriff stunned Ski by telling him that he'd decided not to run for reelection.
'It's time I passed the baton.' He paused, then added, 'I'd be pleased to endorse you as my successor. There'd be nobody better. And I don't say that just because you're the hero of the moment.'
'I appreciate the vote of confidence.'
'You've earned it. Think about it. We'll talk it over soon.'
Ski was flattered and excited, but he couldn't indulge in thoughts about the future when duties in the present were so pressing. Doggedly he continued down his list, next calling the nursing home where Oren Starks's mother was a patient. The administrator reminded him of the extent of her illness. 'She's unresponsive, Deputy Nyland.'
'I understand, ma'am. I just thought she should be officially notified of her son's demise.'
Since no power of attorney documents had been found among Starks's papers in his Houston house, and his mother was incapable of making decisions regarding his interment, Ski made arrangements with a funeral home in Merritt.
Last, he called the Houston detective Rodney Allen and gave him a rundown of the capture. 'He had very little chance of surviving the head wound. He died early this morning, in distress, still wishing Ms. Malone dead.'
'Be glad you got him.'
'I am.'
Allen asked for the paperwork necessary to close his case on Sally Buckland's murder, and Ski promised to get it to him as soon as he'd signed off on it.
After a slight pause, the detective said, 'I checked out Hanley's record.'
'He's a good man to have on your side.'
'If you say so.'
'I say so.' Before more could be said, Ski disconnected. And just then someone knocked on his back door.
Berry looked at him through the panes of glass that formed the top half of the door, hoping to gauge his reaction to her unannounced visit. But before she could get a good read on it, he opened the door. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, the tail out. He was barefoot.
'Hi.'
'Hi.'
He stood aside. She took the last step up and crossed the threshold into a kitchen that smelled like fresh coffee. She noticed the items on the table, including a legal tablet with scribbles and lines made in a firm, masculine hand. 'You're working?'
'Just finished up making some official calls. How are you holding up?'
'Fine.' Shortly after Ski had propelled her from Oren's ICU, the doctor had pronounced him dead. 'Still a bit trembly.'
'It was a bad scene.'
'Yes.'
He slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, then removed them. He nodded toward the counter. 'You want some coffee?'
'No, thanks.'
'When you left the hospital, you said you were going home to sleep.'
'I was. But when we got there, Mother said we all should eat. Dodge volunteered to go to the store and get things for brunch. I volunteered to come and extend you an invitation to join us.' She took a breath, knowing she was going for broke but willing to take the risk. 'But inviting you to brunch was just an excuse. The real reason I came is because I want you to hold me.'
It took him only one wide step to reach her. He pulled her against him and wrapped his strong arms around her. And for the longest time, that was enough, just being held. Then he tipped her chin up and kissed her with surprising gentleness. When he pulled away, he searched her eyes as though asking permission and must have seen in her gaze what he was looking for.
Dipping his head, he rubbed his lips against hers, then their open mouths fused hungrily. She slid her arms beneath his. Her hands met at his spine and held him fast against her. They shifted the angle of their heads several times but didn't break the kiss until he pulled away and pressed his lips against her neck just beneath her ear.
'Can we continue this with our clothes off?'
She made a humming sound that he took for a yes. Reaching for her hand, he led her from the kitchen, through the house, and into a spacious bedroom. She was impressed that the bed was made, but it wasn't for long. He flung back the covers, then returned to her and immediately began undoing the buttons on her blouse. He unclasped the front fastener of her bra and pushed aside the cups. He took her breasts in his hands as he kissed her again.
Lips, tongue, fingertips. They made her breathless, helpless, until she didn't even realize that the small sounds filling the quiet room were coming from her own throat. He continued caressing her with his mouth while his hands reached beneath her skirt. One splayed over her ass, the other slid into the front of her panties.
She whimpered, because he knew exactly what to do and how to do it well. The slip-slidey play of his fingertips soon had her gasping. 'Stop. Ski. Stop.'
'No,' he murmured, his lips moving against her nipple.
It felt too good. The pressure of his fingers, the barely-there caress of his thumb. She began rocking against his hand, riding it. Urged on by his fervently whispered encouragement, she let go of all control and allowed the pleasure to surge through her. Tidal waves of it battered her until she was limp and clinging to him.
He eased her back onto the bed and smoothed the hair off her face. He kissed her
