Dead Run

CHAPTER 45

Wednesday, November 21

12:45 a.m.

The drive back to Key West from Miami seemed interminable. Rick spent much of the trip fiddling with the radio, scanning from one station to another, looking for the most recent weather updates. The depression that had developed in the western Caribbean had begun to move north through the Yucatán, intensifying to a tropical storm. Although late in the season, the conditions looked right for this storm to upgrade to hurricane force in the next couple of days.

News of the storm had helped fill the silence between him and Liz. They had decided to agree to disagree on the satanist issue, but still he felt it between them like a wall.

Her zeal had unnerved him. Her passionate insistence that she was right. Every step he took with her seemed to take him not a step forward but one sideways, farther into the realm of the unbelievable.

Satanists? Black masses and sacrificed babies?

As he’d admitted to Liz, during his time on the Miami-Dade force, he’d run into some of this crazy cult shit. Most of the guys had. Pentagrams and inverted crosses drawn on the walls and floors of abandoned buildings, burnt black candles that had obviously been used as part of some sort of dark mass or other pseudoreligious ceremony. Rarely had there been a crime associated with the sites and certainly never violent crime.

But it only took one individual to change those stats. One psychopath whose twisted mind told him that he had been put on earth to do the work of Satan.

“Here we are,” he murmured, turning onto Duval Street. “Looks like the party’s still in full swing.”

“Do you need to go by the Hideaway?”

He heard the tremor in her voice. He drew to a stop at the traffic light and looked at her. “I’m not going to leave you alone, Liz.”

She tilted up her chin in a show of false bravado. “You don’t have to baby-sit me. I’ll be fine.”

The light changed and he eased forward, past a group of drunken young people. “I appreciate all that machismo, doll. But you’re stuck with me.”

She reached out and curled her hand around his. “What’s next?”

“After sleep?”

She laughed. “After lots of sleep,” she corrected. “Yes.”

“First thing, I need to confirm that Tim and Taft were actually enrolled at FSU at the same time.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“Call the university.” He found a parking spot just down from her apartment and maneuvered his Jeep into it. “Pretend I’m an employer confirming résumé information. This kind of stuff isn’t considered confidential. It shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Then what?”

He cut the engine. “I’m going to talk to Carla. Try to catch her before she goes in this morning. I think I might be able to get her to spill what they have on Mark and Stephen. Once I’m fully armed, I’ll go to Val.”

They climbed out of the vehicle and made their way in silence to Liz’s front door. Liz handed him her keys. He unlocked the door and they stepped inside.

Rick held a finger to his lips. She nodded and they stood quietly a moment, listening. “I’ll go first,” he murmured.

They made their way upstairs. When they reached the top, he turned to her. “Wait here. I want to make sure there are no surprises waiting for us.”

He worked his way through each room, checking closets and under beds, looking for anything amiss. “No dead rats, bodies or burnt black candles,” he called from her bedroom, closing her closet door.

“Very funny.”

He turned and found her standing in the doorway watching him, her cheeks pale, eyes wide. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Needing a bodyguard is a whole new experience for me. One I could have lived without.”

“I’m hurt.” He started toward her. “Wounded, really.”

He reached her. She smiled up at him. “I can tell.”

“Beautiful and intuitive. I’m awed.”

She brought a hand to his chest. “I can feel your heart beating.”

“It’s beating only for you.”

She laughed lightly. “Corny, Wells.”

He brought his arms around her. “Maybe I’m trying too hard?”

She stood on tiptoe and leaned against him. “Silly man, you don’t have to try at all.”

Her meaning clear, Rick caught his breath. He found her mouth and kissed her. She kissed him back, just as deeply. Sweeping her into her arms, he carried her to the bed.

Their passion didn’t build slowly. It burst forth, full-blown, white-hot.

And in those minutes, Rick’s thoughts emptied of everything but Liz. The sweet perfume of her body, the way she clung to him, the sounds she made as she orgasmed.

His release followed hers; she caught his sounds with her mouth. Held him until both their hearts had slowed, their flesh cooled.

He rolled onto his back. “Wow,” he said, lacing their fingers, bringing her hand to his mouth.

Liz blushed and he laughed. “It’s a little late for that, lady.”

“I suppose it is.”

They fell silent. Moments passed. Totally relaxed, he trailed a hand over her hip, enjoying the texture of her skin against his. “Tell me about your marriage,” he murmured, realizing suddenly how little he knew about her. Realizing that he wanted to know all her secrets, not just those of her body. “I don’t even know his name.”

“Jared.”

“I knew a Jared. He was a total weasel.”

“Sounds like we’re talking about the same guy.”

“How long were you married?”

“Three years.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder for a moment before tipping her face up to his. “Actually, I was married for three years but Jared was married for about three months. That’s when he had his first affair. I didn’t know, of course. The ignorant little wife. I walked in on him and one of my best friends.”

“Some friend.”

“Some husband.” She paused, then sighed. “It was his birthday. I wanted to surprise him with all his favorites-prime rib, crème brûlé for dessert, chilled Tattinger’s. I’d been planning it for weeks. I canceled my afternoon appointments to go home and prepare everything.”

She pulled in a shaky breath. “The house…felt wrong, you know. Like something wasn’t as it should be. I heard sounds coming from the bedroom. It was almost surreal, as if I was outside myself watching as I crossed to the bedroom door, reached for the knob and eased the door open. And there they were, on our bed. For one moment, I didn’t believe what I was seeing. I thought there was some mistake…that I was in the wrong house, that I was dreaming. Then I thought I was going to die.”

He hurt for her. “I’m so sorry, Liz. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Afterward, he threw his women up in my face. There’d been a lot of them.”

Rick wondered what made a man like that. To have a smart, beautiful woman like Liz love you was a gift. One to be cherished.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Me, too.” She met his gaze. “He always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. That I fell short in every way. I didn’t realize how bad I’d gotten until after it was over.”

“You don’t fall short,” he murmured. “Not in any way.”

“Thank you.” She rolled onto her side so she fully faced him. “You had a good marriage?”

“Yes.” His chest tightened but he pushed past the sensation, the emotion behind it. “We were high-school sweethearts.”

“What was she like?”

“She loved to laugh. She was a good person, kind. Sweet-natured.” He smiled, remembering. “She wasn’t much for school. Graduated by the skin of her teeth. She was happy to make a home for me and Sam.”

Liz let out a long breath. “Well, I asked.”

“What?”

“Sounds like you had the…perfect marriage. The perfect relationship. That’s tough to compete with.”

He trailed his thumb over the curve of her jaw. He liked her honesty. He liked the way she faced her feelings head-on.

And he liked that he mattered enough to her that she wanted to compete.

“You can’t compete,” he said softly. “But I don’t want you to. You’re not Jill.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She moved to roll away; he stopped her. “You misunderstand. You’re not Jill, but she wasn’t you. Elizabeth Ames is a very special, very exciting woman. She’s the woman I want to be with now.”

Wordlessly, she moved into his arms. They made love again, slowly, with a kind of intensity that had been missing before. Each thrust brought them closer. In the final moments, they laced fingers and held tightly to one another.

Afterward, Rick held her. She snuggled against him and yawned. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, exhaustion pulling at him. “It’s really late.”

“Mmm.”

She had drifted off already, he realized, gazing at her face, soft and vulnerable in sleep. He breathed deeply through his nose, the urge to protect her rising up in him. To keep her safe and warm and close.

As he drifted off, he thought of Jill. He imagined her smiling.

Rick awakened to the smell of coffee. He opened his eyes to find Liz standing beside the bed, two steaming mugs in her hands. “I hope you take it black,” she murmured. “There’re lumps in the milk.”

He sat up. “Black’s good, thanks.”

She handed him a mug, but kept her distance. He eyed her warily. “What’s up? Did I sprout horns or is it my breath?”

Her lips lifted. “Just being careful. Are you a morning person? Or the other kind?”

“The other kind?”

“The ones who growl, grouse and generally curse the sun for having risen.”

“You’re safe.” He made room for her beside him. “What time is it?”

“Late. After nine.”

He groaned. There’d be no catching Carla before she went in to work.

“Hungry?”

“Starved. We could go out?”

“I have Frosted Flakes.”

“But the milk has lumps.”

“I forgot.” She sipped her coffee. “How about toast?”

“Any strawberry jam?”

“Of course.”

“Bring it on.”

Thirty minutes later, they were dressed, fed and lingering over coffee. Rick brought up the day’s schedule first. “I think I should go see Carla alone. Are you going to be okay?”

“Absolutely. I want to pay a visit on Father Paul.”

He frowned. “Father Paul? That old priest you told me about?”

“Yes.” Her expression dared him to challenge her decision. “I’m going to show him the sketch of the flower, see if he recognizes it.”

“You’re not going to let this satanist thing go, are you?”

“No.” She looked down at her coffee, then back up at him. “I understand why it’s so hard for you to accept.”

“Liz-”

She laid a finger against his lips. “Let’s just see how this plays out, okay? I promise I won’t say the S word to anyone.”

He hesitated, then stood. He bent and kissed her. “Be careful today. Really careful.”

“You, too.”

He searched her gaze. “I’m not kidding, Ms. Ames.”

“Neither am I, Mr. Wells.”

“I’ll be at the Hideaway later. Meet me there.”

This time, she kissed him. “It’s a date.”