He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was very responsible.”
“So you went away to college and cut loose?”
“No. I went away to Saudi Arabia. And I wouldn’t call killing people cutting loose, although some of my comrades seemed to find it entertaining.”
She searched his face. “I would never have guessed that. Are you saying you were introduced to drugs in the military?”
“Yes.”
“Did it help?”
His whiskey-brown eyes met hers. “No.”
The intensity with which he spoke, and the underlying rage she sensed in him, made her uneasy. “You have to know I didn’t have a choice about the photo in the newspaper,” she said to fill the silence. “Is that why you’re angry?”
“I don’t know anything about you,” he replied, quite honestly.
Turning his back on her, he got in his car and drove away, leaving her standing there, speechless, confused and very much alone.
At LabTech, Marc found Gina hunched over her laptop. “Anything interesting?”
“Yes,” she said, taking off her reading glasses as she straightened. “Preliminary reports show consistencies between the semen samples obtained from both victims and the one from the Guajome Lake rest room, but it could take weeks for DNA confirmation. And still no hit in CODIS.” She closed the screen. “What have you got?”
He placed the container of urine on the desk. “If he tests positive, can you match the results to a specific crop or plant?”
She looked skeptical. “Maybe, if the grower used a certain kind of fertilizer, pesticide, or another traceable chemical. Your homegrown variety can also have unique qualities, such as astronomically high THC levels, but it’s a long shot, either way.”
Most investigative techniques were, he thought, taking Tony’s joint out of his pocket. “Can you run this?”
“Sure. Is it from the scene?”
“No.”
“From a suspect?”
“Not really. Not firsthand, anyway.”
She arched a dark, curvy brow. “So the paper isn’t evidence?”
“No.”
She tore open the joint to see its contents. “It’s definitely fresh, probably local. Good quality. You want me to have narcotics take a look?”
It was a good idea, but Marc didn’t want to bring the heat down on Tony, or his customers, who were mostly harmless, fresh-faced college kids. Like Anika Groene, he thought suddenly. “Not yet. See if you can match it first. I’ll take it from there.”
She smiled at his secrecy. “By the way, I’d make myself scarce, if I were you.”
He grew instantly wary. “Is Stokes around?”
“Not that I know of, but I heard she’s breathing fire.”
“She saw the paper this morning?”
“Yes, and your little psychic friend got herself a lawyer. Slapped homicide with a cease and desist order first thing this morning.”
When Marc caught up with her again, it was really raining. Huge, fat drops saturated Sidney’s clothing as she walked from the parking garage to her front doorstep.
He was waiting for her there, getting soaked, although he appeared oblivious to the downpour. His hair was thick and damp in the moisture-laden air, and his T-shirt clung intriguingly to the muscles of his chest. From his half-lidded eyes to his pseudo-casual stance, every aspect of his demeanor suggested barely restrained fury.
The amount of tension between them spiked higher than the humidity.
“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice about the photo?” he asked. “Did your lawyer advise you to go public?”
She took her keys out of her front pocket with a trembling hand, feeling the rain permeate her tank top. “What lawyer? Greg?”
“Your brother-in-law is your lawyer?” he asked, eyeing her with derision. “That is dysfunctional on so many levels.”
“Would you move? I’d like to get out of the rain.”
He didn’t budge.
“Did you read the article?” she asked, exasperated.
“Of course.”
She stared at him, for that explained it all. He didn’t appear convinced. Wiping the rain from her face, she said, “The picture they printed was taken before…”
“We almost had sex on a picnic table?” he finished for her.
Hot color suffused her face. “I wouldn’t have…”
“Oh, yes, you would have,” he countered smugly. “And so would I, if we’d been alone.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, and found the lie impossible to utter. “Crystal said she would destroy your career,” she murmured, returning to the subject of most importance.
His expression changed. “That’s why you consented? Because of me?”
“Yes. Now can I please get by?”
He moved aside a half step, giving her access to the front door, but only if she wanted to plaster her body against his. Refusing to let him intimidate her, she put her shoulder in the middle of his chest and grinded her elbow into his hard, flat abdomen as she turned the key.
He seemed to take a perverse pleasure in her attempt to harm him. To her chagrin, she couldn’t deny her own enjoyment in his proximity.
Why did he have to smell so good? Like freshly laundered cotton and rain, testosterone and Old Spice. At the base of his throat, his skin was dark and damp against the collar of his T-shirt. She closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the urge to put her mouth there and taste him, too.
“You should have asked me,” he said. “The
She moistened her lips, still staring at his neck. “She lied?”
“Yes.”
The door opened in, but she didn’t push it. Her eyes drifted up to his face. “Greg contacted your office?”
He was fixated on her mouth. “Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That you would sue for harassment if we continued surveillance.”
She put her head against the door, more weary than astonished by her brother-in-law’s underhanded machinations.
“He lied?”
“Yes,” she said, casting him a sideways glance. Her eyelids felt very heavy, and she wanted nothing more than to lean in to him, to taste his mouth again, to flatten her breasts against his chest and feel how his body responded to hers.
Then the hurtful words he’d said to her this morning came rushing back, and she squeezed the doorknob tightly, willing her hand to make it turn.
He didn’t know her. He didn’t want to know her.
Marc wanted her the same way Greg wanted her-in a base, purely sexual way. The only difference was that she wanted him back.
If he really knew her, he’d run the other way, she reminded herself. No one wanted a freak for a girlfriend. What man would feel comfortable around a woman capable of invading his mind, guessing his secrets, stealing his thoughts?
“Come on in,” she said, pushing open the door. “I’ll get you a towel.” Going in ahead of him, she grabbed a towel off the rack in the bathroom. She avoided glancing into the mirror, afraid of the raw need she would see
