Hutch didn’t even try to fight the inevitable. He just let go, his fists making deep impressions on the pillow as he poured himself into her, throwing back his head and giving a guttural shout.
The silence in the room was punctuated by their shallow, ragged breaths as Hutch blanketed Casey’s body with his. A semblance of sanity returned-slowly, in increments-not that either of them cared.
“I hope I’m not crushing you, because I don’t think I can move,” Hutch murmured into her hair.
“You’re not.” Casey wrapped her arms around his back, her legs too shaky to follow suit. She turned her face into his neck and kissed him. “By the way, I missed you.”
“Yeah, I could tell. As for me, I’ve been taking cold showers for the past two weeks. A month and a half is just too damned long.”
“I agree.” Casey gave a sated sigh. “Fair warning. I doubt I’m going to let you rest for any length of time.”
“I doubt I’ll need to.” Hutch propped himself on his elbows, scrutinizing her face. “You look gorgeous all flushed and naked.”
Casey smiled. “You’re pretty hot yourself.” She reached up, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. “I think I undid the positive effects of your shower.”
“Not a problem. I’ll take another one, this time with company.” Hutch kissed her, and what began as a slow, tender kiss soon turned into something more. He rolled onto his back, taking Casey with him, still buried inside her.
Casey pushed herself into a kneeling position, leaning back and deepening their joining, already feeling the familiar tingling of pleasure.
“Did you really want to go out for dinner?” she managed.
“No.” Hutch had clutched her hips and was moving her up and down in a motion that took their breath away. “Dinner is highly overrated.”
Casey was dead asleep when her cell phone rang.
She reached across Hutch and groped at her nightstand, until her hand made contact with her BlackBerry.
“Casey Woods,” she mumbled into the phone.
“Casey?” It was Amanda’s voice. And it sounded high and shaky.
Casey was instantly awake. Her first and only thought was Justin. “Amanda? What’s wrong?”
“I got a phone call,” Amanda said, on the verge of hysteria. “It was a man. His voice was…weird.”
“Weird like he was using a voice scrambler? Like he wanted to disguise his identity?”
“I guess. It was as if he were in an echo chamber. But he knew me, Casey. He said my name. He told me what time I’d come outside the hospital for some air. He told me what I was wearing. And he told me to stop looking for Paul-to tell you to stop looking for Paul.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not in so many words. But he made it clear that he would be watching us to make sure. He didn’t say ‘or else.’ But his tone of voice did. And, Casey…” Amanda’s voice broke. “Right before he hung up, he said that he certainly hopes my son, Justin, gets well. Then he broke the connection. What does that mean? Does he plan on doing something to my baby?”
“It means he was going for your emotional Achilles’ heel.” Casey’s mind was racing. “The more personal he makes this, the more terrified you’ll be, and the more apt to listen to his demands. He’s trying to scare you, Amanda, but he’s the one who’s scared. We’re getting close. If anything, that’s good news, not bad.” She paused. “How long ago did he call?”
“Two minutes ago. I called you the instant he hung up. And there was no caller ID. It said
“Check your phone again-but not for a caller ID. Do you have any missed calls? Messages?”
“I checked as soon as I got to the general waiting area where I was allowed to turn on my cell phone.” Amanda was holding herself together by a hair. “There were no missed calls. A few messages from friends and a couple of pushy ones from the press. No hang-ups. Why?”
“Did this man call you right then-as soon as you turned on your phone?”
“As I was checking my last message.”
“Then I’m guessing that either he or someone who’s working with him is inside the hospital. It’s the only way he’d know exactly when you were reachable.”
“Oh, my God.” Amanda lost it again. “That means he’s close to Justin.”
“Sloane Kettering is a big hospital.” Casey battled Amanda’s understandable panic. “He could be in any one of dozens of places and still keep you in his sight.” Casey dragged a hand through her tangled mane of hair. “But we won’t take any chances. I’ll call Patrick and have him stand guard outside the PICU.”
“Why Patrick? Why not Marc?”
“Because Patrick is the right person for this job. Before he joined Forensic Instincts, he was a security consultant for law enforcement and private companies-big ones. He’s consulted for the NYPD, the FBI and a long list of other entities. And, before that, he was an FBI agent for over thirty years. No one will get by him.”
“I’m sorry…” Amanda inhaled sharply. “It’s just that…”
“I know you trust Marc. But trust all of us. Trust me. When I say Patrick’s the one you want, he is.”
“You’re right. And I do trust you. I’m just a wreck.” Another attempt at a calming breath. “When can Patrick get here?”
“I’ll call him right now.” Casey remembered Claire saying that Patrick had gone home to spend time with his wife. And home for Patrick was in Hoboken, New Jersey, a short ride through the Holland Tunnel and into Manhattan. “He’ll be there within the hour. And I’m going to see what Ryan can get off your cell records. My guess is nothing, if this guy is a pro. But it can’t hurt to try. And, Amanda, remember, no one’s interested in hurting you or Justin. They just want to protect whatever secret it is they have-and that secret involves Paul. So keep a low profile. No more videos. No public statements. Let us take the lead and the risk.”
“I will.”
Casey disconnected the call and pressed Patrick’s speed dial number. By the time they hung up, he was halfway out the door, on his way to Sloane Kettering.
Casey flopped back against the pillows with a heavy sigh.
“You okay?” Hutch asked, rolling onto his side and propping himself on one elbow.
“Frustrated.”
“Then I didn’t do as good a job as I thought.”
Casey smiled. “Yes, you did. That’s the only way I’m not frustrated. But this damned case…”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hutch asked, playing with a strand of Casey’s red hair. He was as respectful as she about not overstepping his bounds with her cases-at least until he sensed she was in danger. Then all bets were off. Casey often muttered that he was a caveman, although they both knew that wasn’t true. Hutch was the furthest thing from sexist. His longtime BAU partner, Grace, was female, and they worked together seamlessly and respectfully. But Grace was a trained law enforcement agent. Casey wasn’t. And Hutch had just seen way too much, first as a D.C. cop, then as a BU agent, to be okay with Casey throwing herself smack in the middle of big- time danger.
Unfortunately, that’s what she always seemed to do.
“You know a lot of it already, thanks to YouTube,” Casey said now, still staring at the ceiling with a troubled expression on her face. “Amanda Gleason’s baby has a life-threatening autoimmune disease. He needs a stem cell transplant. No donor match has been found. His best chance of survival is his father. FI’s job is to find that father- Paul Everett.”
Hutch arched a brow. “Now why don’t I think it’s that simple?”
“Because you just heard me on the phone. And because your instincts are almost as good as mine.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Hutch said drily. “How much can you tell me without violating client confidentiality?”
“I can tell you that Paul Everett is supposedly dead, the victim of a no-body homicide. That’s the official police report. I can tell you the cops found his abandoned car, complete with a fair amount of his blood on the driver’s seat, just east of the Hamptons on Long Island. And I can tell you that no one on my team believes that he’s
