How to Save A Life

Chapter 8

"What might happen?" Her voice came out husky.

She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. He looked back at her, clearly debating how to answer. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough. "I might rip all your clothes off and fuck your brains out."

His reply shocked her, thrilled her, but she smiled, still watching him. "I might not mind that," she said softly.

Their eyes met and held across the table, sexual tension rising in her until she ached with need. Then he shook his head. "Finish your breakfast."

She kept smiling, but turned her attention back to her food. She was starving and it felt good to be hungry for a change. She, too, hadn't been eating much lately. Although, despite her appetite, she found she actually couldn't eat as much as she wanted to. She had to leave some of the huge Belgian waffle untouched. She sipped her coffee and watched Trey devour his own food.

When he'd cleaned every plate and leaned back in his chair, she grinned.

"Feel better?"

He smiled back at her. "Yeah. That was good."

"So, what's the plan now?"

Trey glanced at his watch. "I'm going to make a couple of calls, then I'm going to the FBI office in LA. You can wait here."

"Uh-uh. I'm not staying here alone."

"You'll be safe here." Although he didn't appear entirely convinced of that when he eyed the sliding glass door. They were only on the second floor, which was not difficult to access. "Okay, you can come with me."

"Can I have a shower first?"

"Sure. I wouldn't mind a shower, too."

She looked at him and she knew he could tell what she was thinking.

"Go," he said, pointing at the bathroom.

Grinning, she helped pile their dishes back onto the tray and tossed garbage into the wastebasket.

She showered and shampooed her hair, the hot water pummeling her body like a massage therapist, easing out tension and knots. She stayed under the spray for long moments, trying to let her stress swirl down the drain along with the foamy shampoo suds. She used the hotel hair dryer to dry her hair partially, but her curls dried better if she just left them alone. She'd packed so quickly she didn't have her anti-frizz serum with her, so she ran conditioner through her damp hair and hoped for the best.

She swiped eye shadow onto her lids, brushed mascara over her pale lashes, and slicked gloss over her lips. Just that made her feel a little better as she gazed at her reflection in the steamy mirror.

She took a deep, shaky breath. She was okay. She was here, she was alive, and she was with Trey. She barely knew him, but she felt safe with him.

Not that she needed a man. She could look after herself. But damn, it felt so good to have him there.

And not just for protection. Watching him sit at the table in front of his laptop, she'd studied his chest and shoulders. He said he'd lost weight, but he was still impressively muscled, his shoulders thick, biceps rounded, his pecs and abs well-defined. He had just enough dark body hair to look masculine, but not gorilla-like.

He still hadn't shaved and his dark beard gave him a dangerous look, along with those deep-set, intense eyes. Intelligent eyes, which had roved over the computer screen quickly, reading and absorbing information.

She wasso attracted to him. She was trying not to flirt, but apparently, she just couldn't help it. Even innocent remarks came out wrong. But the electricity sparking between them, the heat, that intense pull, almost made her forget she was not supposed to be having fun. She was supposed to be miserable and grieving, being punished for her sins.

She went back into the room where Trey still sat with his laptop and cell phone. He was talking to someone named Bill and scribbling notes, focused and intent, and sexy as hell.

She threw the covers up in a half-hearted attempt to make the bed. Then she wandered to the window and gazed out at the ocean, blinding and blue, the sky dotted with puffy white clouds zipping along. It must be windy.

She sighed and turned back to the room, restless and edgy. She spotted a familiar magazine provided by the hotel, advertising Rocky Harbor attractions, and grabbed it off the desk. She flopped onto the bed on her stomach, facing Trey, her feet in the air, and flipped through it while he talked.

"Okay," he said, sounding like he was wrapping up. "Thanks, man. I'm going over there now. Yeah, yeah, I'll keep you posted." He snapped his phone shut and looked at Marli.

She gazed back at him inquiringly.

"That was my partner, Bill Patterson," he said. "Former partner." A note of bitterness crept into his voice. "He gave me contact names at the LA bureau."

She nodded.

Trey stood. "I'm going to have a quick shower."

She nodded again, watched him walk into the bathroom. God, he was gorgeous. She wanted to run her hands over the smooth skin and muscle, feel how hard he was. A throbbing ache started between her legs, and she rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

She pictured him naked in the shower. He'd seen her practically naked, but all she'd seen was his chest. Although his chest was delicious enough to make her mouth water. Her breasts swelled a little, nipples tight. She closed her eyes. A flood of longing wet her panties.

He was probably soaping his body up now. She knew his thighs were big, could tell from the jeans he'd worn. God, she wanted to see them, to see where they joined his hips, his groin...

With a moan, she rolled back onto her stomach and pressed her hot face into the silky cool bedspread. Her pelvis pushed into the bed instinctively. She was still lying like that, trying to control the throbbing heat, when Trey flung open the bathroom and emerged in a cloud of steam, clad only in his underwear.

She peeked at him through a veil of hair without lifting her head, watching him rummage through his suitcase wearing only a pair of snug black boxer briefs.

Oh, yeah. His thighs were big. His ass was tight. Muscles rippled as he pulled on a pair of black dress pants and the white shirt he'd been wearing the night they met. This time he tucked it in and added a sleek leather belt to the pants.

When he was dressed, she lifted her head. "You look very professional," she told him. "Very hot, but very professional."

Why had she said that? Why, why, why?

His cheeks flushed a little as he finished buckling the belt, then shoved his hands into the pockets.

"Hey, look," she said, rolling off the bed. She grabbed the magazine and moved over beside him. "Nice photo, huh?"

She folded the magazine open and displayed a glossy page advertising a local restaurant.

He looked at the photo, then at her face. "Yours?" he guessed.

She nodded, smiling. She flipped a few pages. "And this one. And...this one."

The last was a full-page advertisement for Surf Coast Brewery, featuring a huge golden dog smiling and...winking.

He grinned. "How did you get the dog to wink?"

"I winked at him...like this..." She demonstrated. "And he winked back."

Trey laughed. "Bullshit."

She laughed, too. "Okay, it was Photoshop." She studied the image. "I did a damn fine job if I do say so myself."

He looked at it again and nodded. "It looks so real." He smiled at her. "I don't know much about photography, but you're obviously good."

His compliment made her feel good. Warm. Almost happy.

Except she wasn't allowed to be happy. Her mood sank like a brick in water.

"You ready?" He grabbed his wallet, cell phone and the papers he'd scribbled notes on.

"You betcha." She picked up her purse, a big soft brown leather sack, and slung it over her shoulder. She took a deep breath. Leaving the sanctuary of Trey's hotel room was just a little scary.

Fear, however, seemed silly as they walked through the busy, bright lobby of the hotel and out into the parking lot. The sun hurt her eyes, the breeze tossed the fronds of the palm trees lining the front of the hotel and clouds scudded across the sky. The world seemed so impossibly normal.

They hit the 405, exiting a while later onto Wilshire to find the federal office building where the FBI field office was located.

"Have you been here before?" she asked him.

"Yeah. Lots of times." He parked.

They rode up the elevator.

"You can wait over there." Trey nodded to a small lounge area, going over to a security desk.

"Okay."

She wandered over. The chairs were hard chrome and vinyl, and she glanced at some ancient Time magazines. Trey disappeared down an aisle between cubicles, and she heard his voice as he greeted his colleagues and they started talking.

She sighed. They were talking about her. At least, some of it was about her. She took little comfort from being in the offices of the FBI. They sure hadn't done anything to protect her. If it weren't for Trey... Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.

An hour later Trey was still in there talking. She tossed the last Time magazine down and sighed. Tapped her fingers on the armrest of the chair. Shifted her rapidly numbing butt. What the hell was taking so long? Then she was annoyed with herself. He was trying to help her after all.

When Trey finally emerged, she jumped up and crossed over to him, so happy to see his face. She'd known the man for three days and already he was her anchor. Two other men in bad suits accompanied him.

Trey introduced her and they shook her hand. Trey didn't look all that happy. She looked from his face to the other men and back. Then he was hustling her out of the building.

"What happened?" she asked as soon as they were outside.

"Not much," he said grimly. "They did give me access to the files, but basically told me to stay out of it."

They climbed into his car and started back to the hotel.

Marli tried to sort out her confused thoughts. Trey was on a leave of absence. She didn't know the details of what had happened with his job, although an intense curiosity itched inside her, but it must have been bad. She knew he wanted to be involved in the case. Hell, he was involved now, whether he wanted to be or not, thanks to her. On the other hand, she worried for his safety as much as for her own.

Oh, jeez. She didn't even know this guy. So he'd saved her life. That didn't mean she had to worship the ground he walked on or fall on a sword for him.

But she was starting to feel like she would. He was an amazing man. Strong, sure, good. She understood these things deep inside her with an instinctive knowledge.

"Why did you get suspended, Trey?" When she wanted to know something, she asked. She didn't really expect him to answer.

"I'd rather not talk about that," he said evenly, concentrating on the busy freeway.

She nodded.

"I had a look at the report you gave the police about Krista."

Her heart sank. There was a lot of stuff in there she'd rather he didn't know.

"Did you tell them everything? Every little detail?"

She nodded. "Well, if you saw the report I'm sure you know I...I drank a lot of tequila that night. Some of the evening is a little fuzzy." She bent her head. "I think I told them everything, though."

"Okay. If you remember anything at all about Barnes, tell me. Okay?"

"Of course." She looked up at his strong profile as he stared out the windshield. "Are we going back to the hotel?"

"Yeah." He wasn't very talkative right now, so she lapsed into silence as well, quiet until they were back in his room.

He threw himself down into one of the chairs in the corner.

Marli lowered herself onto the bed, kicking off her flip-flops. She eyed him. He looked so serious and intent. And so cute.

Watching him talk to those other feds had made her hot. How pathetic was that? Just the sight of Trey talking, albeit in a very professional and sober way, communicating on the same level with those other guys, using terminology and acronyms she didn't understand, made her look at him with respect and--damn it--lust.

She looked at him like that now. She wanted to touch him, to smooth his furrowed brow, press away the crease between his eyebrows, coax his straight, firm mouth into a smile. She sat on her hands to keep from getting up and doing that.

"So, what now?" she asked.

He looked at her.

"We're going back to Cactus Jack's."