The Mermaid Murders

Chapter Fourteen

“Goodnight,” Officer Courtney called when Jason left the quiet station house that evening.

“Night,” Jason returned.

That night the parking lot was nearly empty, an indicator Chief Gervase and his department had resigned themselves to the long haul and were trying to pace themselves.

Jason turned left and headed up Main Street, walking until he came to the General Warren Inn.

“I took your laundry up to your room,” Charlotte told him when he stopped by the lobby.

“Thanks.”

She looked like she had been crying. Her voice wobbled as she asked, “Do you know where Tony is?”

Proof of his preoccupation, it took Jason a minute to remember Tony McEnroe. “No,” he said. “Did he make bail?”

“Yes.” Charlotte started to add something, but her father called from the back office, “Charlie, can I see you for a moment?”

She threw Jason a look of frustration, but answered docilely, “Yes, Daddy.”

Jason left the lobby.

As usual no one was in the swimming pool, and most of the rooms were dark. Certainly there was no lamp shining behind the curtains in Kennedy’s room. Was he still prowling the countryside, visiting old crime scenes?

Jason let himself into his room. He was tired, and his headache was coming back, but he needed to eat and the idea of hanging around his motel room was just depressing. He showered, put on clean jeans and a fresh shirt, and headed over to the Blue Mermaid.

The first person he saw when he opened the door was Senior Special Agent Sam Kennedy eating fish and chips at the bar and watching the TV in the corner.

Jason glanced at the TV screen and caught a glimpse of the Madigans, tear-stained and enraged their daughter’s killer had not yet been brought to justice. That was followed by the image of Chief Gervase looking harassed and uncomfortable as he tried to answer the barrage of reporters’ questions. Even at that distance and with the television sound muted, Jason could see Gervase’s mouth forming the word copycat.

Briefly, Jason considered backing out of the bar, but that would be ridiculous. It wasn’t like he was trying to avoid Kennedy. He just didn’t want to look like he was fol—and right in the middle of that thought, Kennedy glanced Jason’s way.

Kennedy did not look overcome with delight. He also didn’t look disturbed to see Jason. After a moment—and it was definitely a moment—he nodded in greeting, and Jason walked over to the bar.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“How did what go?” Kennedy returned.

“Your tour of the old crime scenes.”

Kennedy lifted a shoulder in dismissal. “I can’t say I was struck by any blinding flashes of fresh insight. How did you make out?”

“Unless you have some objection, I’d like to head back to Boston tomorrow. I’ve got contacts there. I’ve worked with a couple of dealers who specialize in folk art. They might be able to help us locate the artist who carved those mermaid charms.”

“You think those charms are that distinct?”

“I do. Yeah.”

Funny how Kennedy’s eyes seemed to light up when he was interested. Like someone threw the switch on an electrical current. “Okay. Sounds good to me.”

The slender brunette behind the bar stopped moving long enough to speak to Kennedy, “Was I right? Pretty good?”

Kennedy examined the piece of fried cod he held. “Not bad.”

She nodded at his half-empty glass. “Again?”

“Thanks.”

She turned to Jason. “Sorry for the wait. Our bartender didn’t show up for her shift. What can I get you?”

“Sam Adams.”

“Were you going to order food?”

“Do you have some kind of salad?”

She laughed. “Uh, no. No salad. Fish and chips, burgers, or chicken wings.”

“Fish and chips.”

“Good choice.” She smiled and turned away.

Kennedy looked inquiringly at Jason.

“What?” Jason asked.

“Were you going to sit down, or are you planning to make a run for it?”

Jason laughed uncomfortably and sat down on the next stool. After a moment he said, “I talked to SAC Manning today.”

Kennedy took a large bite of cod. “Yeah?”

“I asked him to release me from this assignment. He said no.”

Kennedy gave a short laugh. “Are you kidding? You’re the only reason he can sleep at night.”

Funny. Almost the exact phrasing Manning had used.

Kennedy added dryly, “He’s pinning all his hopes on you and your little black notebook.”

“Do you think I’m keeping notes on you?”

Kennedy’s smile was crooked. “If you are, they ought to make for interesting reading.”

Jason looked away, his face warm.

“No,” Kennedy said. “I don’t think you’re keeping notes on me.” He swallowed the last wedge of fish and wiped his greasy fingers on his paper napkin. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“I just did.”

Kennedy finished with his napkin, balled it up, and dropped it on his plate. “No. You didn’t. Why did you feel the need to phone Manning?”

“I feel like I’m— I don’t feel like I’m—”

Kennedy was watching him with that alert blue gaze.

Profiling me, Jason thought wryly.

When he didn’t finish, Kennedy said, “You should have told Manning at the start you were too close to this case. That there was too much of a personal connection for you to be able to do your job.”

“What?” Jason stared. “That’s not true. Yes, there are some painful memories, maybe more than I expected, but I can do my job just fine.”

Kennedy gave a small laugh. “Okay. I agree. So what’s the problem, Jason?”

Jason.

It gave him a start hearing his first name on Kennedy’s tongue.

Really he did not want to think about Kennedy’s tongue.

And on that topic, why the hell had he made such a big point about not having sex with coworkers? Because of course he wanted to have sex again. Last night had been good. Really good. His job did not leave a lot of time for…well, anything but his job.

Kennedy was watching him, smiling a little, eyes intent.

“I don’t know,” Jason muttered. “I don’t like this case.”

“Who the hell would like this case?” There was a hint of wry amusement in Kennedy’s tone. He said softly, “I know what you need…”

Jason threw him a quick, alarmed look. Kennedy’s grin widened.

“You need a drink. You need a couple of drinks. And here’s Nika to save the day.”

Nika deposited a fresh beer in front of Kennedy and a plate of fish and chips sizzling with oil in front of Jason. Opening a bottle, she tilted the Sam Adams with practiced speed into a frosted mug. “Anything else?”

“This is great,” Jason said.

She grinned at him and departed.

Kennedy said, “They cut McEnroe loose this afternoon. On bail.”

“I heard. Well, I figured that was coming. You don’t think there’s any chance—”

Kennedy shook his head. “No. He’d have been in pieces by now. We’d have had a full confession. He’s not our killer.”

They talked about the case while Jason ate. Finally Jason pushed his plate away. He considered ordering another beer. Was Kennedy staying longer, or was he headed back to the motel? If he was staying, Jason would have another beer. Just to be friendly.

“Feeling better?” asked Kennedy.

Jason made a face. “Yeah. A lot.”

Kennedy nodded approval. “Good. Are you headed out early tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“You’re going to Boston, right? To talk to your art dealer contacts?”

“Oh. Right. Early-ish.” Studying Kennedy’s face, Jason realized he was about to miss his cue. He said hastily, “Not that early.”

“No?” Despite Kennedy’s serious expression, Jason had the distinct impression he was being laughed at. “Okay. Well, I know you’ve got that strict no-fraternization policy, so I don’t want to put you in an awkward p—”

“Shut the hell up,” Jason said, starting to laugh himself.

This time they were both a lot more sober and not quite as frantic, though hearing the seam of his shirt’s left shoulder give way as Kennedy backed him toward the bed, Jason was grateful he’d had his laundry done.

Somewhere in the short distance between the door and the bed he lost not only his shirt, but his shoes and socks. And Kennedy had lost a lot more.

Catching a glimpse of his own face in the mirror over the desk—Kennedy had turned the lights on when they walked in—Jason saw himself sprawled on the bed, hair tumbled and eyes glittering wildly as Kennedy’s hands fastened on his hips and dragged his jeans down to his knees.

“You want to turn the lights off?” Jason asked. Flair for the dramatic or not, he wasn’t much of an exhibitionist.

“No. I like looking at you.” Kennedy hauled Jason’s jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them aside. He leaned over the bed, hands fisting the mattress on either side of Jason’s shoulders. “You’re a very nice-looking guy.”

Jason’s laugh was a little self-conscious. “Pretty boy,” he mocked.

“Yeah,” Kennedy agreed. “But not just a pretty face. You’re sharper than you look.”

Jason spluttered. “And you may actually have a sense of humor.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Kennedy was grinning, though, as he lowered himself on the mattress.

The next few minutes passed in pleasurable physical contact. Kennedy might not be much for mouth-to-mouth, but he was definitely an orally fixated kind of guy. There was not a sensitive part of Jason’s upper body that didn’t receive the moist attentions of Kennedy’s mouth. Nothing like someone nibbling on your ears or licking your nipples to distract you from your worries—not that it didn’t create its own set of uncertainties.

“Yeah, very pretty,” Kennedy murmured, nuzzling the inside curve of Jason’s elbow. And even that…who would have thought the elbows were an erogenous zone?

Kennedy was kind of a one man sensual onslaught. Jason was flushed and out of breath by the time he rolled onto his belly, trying to give himself a few seconds to get control of his voice and face.

Kennedy kissed the nape of his neck, brushing the curls away, and Jason shivered.

“I’ll warm you up,” Kennedy promised, and his lips traveled slowly, deliberately down Jason’s spine, grazing every link of vertebrae right down to the small of Jason’s back where he lingered, nuzzling. Jason swallowed hard. No lie, his skin felt warm everywhere Kennedy’s mouth touched.

“That feels really…”

“Yes, it does.” There was a smile in Kennedy’s voice.

Jason jumped and then closed his eyes, willing himself to relax as something slick and wet on the point of Kennedy’s finger invaded his anus.

“That okay?” Kennedy asked, and to his credit it wasn’t just rhetorical. He was waiting for a response, very delicately stroking, delivering little shocks of pleasure with each press.

“That’s…yeah. Nice.” Jason’s breath caught as Kennedy’s finger changed angle, pressed harder.

“I like doing this to you,” Kennedy murmured. “I’ll be remembering what it feels like to touch you this way every time I see you tomorrow.”

Jason moaned. I’ll be in Boston. But that wasn’t the point. He couldn’t hide in Boston forever, and it was going to be hard for him to see Kennedy and not think the same thing.

He risked another glance at the mirror, and Christ almighty, that was just…wanton. The way he was moving into Kennedy’s touch, his expression of flushed and feverish longing. There was naked and then there was that.

He closed his eyes, but not before he saw Kennedy’s face.

Kennedy looked as intent and absorbed as a predator about to pounce. Not lost in the moment like Jason, or at least not in the same way. All his attention was on Jason, gauging, judging, so he noticed Jason’s moment of distraction, followed Jason’s glance, saw their reflection in the mirror, and smiled.

He moved his fingers—what the hell?—and Jason arched a little and made a sound he was pretty sure he had never uttered before.

Kennedy obviously spent his off-time doing more than attending George Winston concerts because you did not learn that move by practicing on yourself. Or if you did, Jason wanted to know how.

Kennedy twisted his fingers again and Jason squirmed, feeling that thrill of fierce and pleasurable sensation in his belly.

It was too much. One more of those and he was going to come right now. “Wait,” he panted. “Don’t…”

Kennedy didn’t wait, but his touch instantly changed, soothed, bringing Jason back from the edge, steadying him.

“Whoa. Slow down,” he whispered. “Wait for me.”

Jason closed his eyes, focusing, shutting his mind to all but prolonging this sweet physical reaction.

Kennedy’s weight settled on top of him. He was big, but he was surprisingly lithe, and his cock—condom, okay that’s good—rudely poked Jason in a couple of vulnerable spots before lodging between Jason’s buttocks. A pleasurable compromise if that’s what Jason wanted.

Jason’s heart seemed to swell. Take it. Don’t risk this; don’t get any closer than you are now. It just wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Wanted all of it. Everything.

He breathed slowly and consciously relaxed, lifting up in offer. Kennedy’s dick slipped, nudged him eagerly.

“Oh yeah,” Kennedy groaned. “This is what I want.” And just like that, his thick cock pushed inside Jason, stretching him wide with a lush and sensuous ease that felt unexpectedly right, familiar.

Jason cried out in pleasure—he had always been vocal, if not always articulate, and this was just too good to smother—and Kennedy made a low sound of amusement and kissed his shoulder.

Jason pushed up on his elbows and knees, rocking into the roll of Kennedy’s hips. They fell right into a natural rhythm, push and pull, back and forth, forehand and backhand…now picking up speed. The mattress springs squeaked loudly, the headboard rapped against the wall.

“Oh God, yes,” Jason panted. “Oh my God, I need…”

This. All of it. The warm light, the sharp smell of sex, the slick sounds, the heat of skin and warm breath…the connection. You could not see—experience first-hand—the worst of humanity, as they did all too often, and not crave some proof that there was still something more, something better. Yes. He needed to feel some healthy, happy human connection. And you couldn’t get much closer than this.

Kennedy whispered into his ear, “You’re something else, West. Something special…really special…” impaling him in easy, rhythmic strokes.

I bet you say that to all your temporary partners…

They were racing toward it now, breathing hard, skin flushed, flesh slapping. Kennedy’s cock thrust into Jason’s hole with swift, strong strokes, piercing him so deeply, so sweetly, his insides were quivering.

Jason gasped with each thrust. “Ah…” A small heartfelt sound of pleasure so acute it was almost pain, his moans in time to the fierce guttural sounds Kennedy made.

“Ah…ah…AHH…”

Kennedy’s fingers dug into Jason’s hips as he changed the angle of his approach, the broad, blunt tip grazing Jason’s prostate.

Oh, Christ. Jason reared back, and Kennedy’s arms locked around his waist, holding him upright, clamped tight, tighter, against his own broad torso. Jason’s head fell back against Kennedy’s shoulder, his back flexed as Kennedy impaled him again and again in that most exquisitely vulnerable of all places.

Jason began to sob. It was just so…insanely sweet…like getting hit by lightning. Yes, little lightning strikes of erotic bliss.

As though he really had been struck by lightning, electricity seemed to crackle at the base of his spine and shoot through him, balls to brain. He came so hard he was afraid he was going to blow apart. This orgasm wasn’t a gentle blossoming; it was a time-lapse explosion of color and perfume. He felt the hot splash of his release hit his belly and spatter his chest and Kennedy’s hands.

“Yeah, that’s it…” Kennedy said with deep satisfaction, slowing his thrusts, seeming to savor Jason’s reaction.

Jason threw his head back, panting, felt Kennedy’s lips brush his skin, kiss his tears.

Kennedy reached up to Jason’s nipples which were almost unbearably sensitive now, but it was okay. He wriggled his ass more snuggly against Kennedy’s groin, encouraging him because his own orgasm was spent and drying, and he just wanted it over, just wanted to enjoy the afterglow and sleep.

Kennedy’s thrusts picked up speed again; his hips lunged, smacking Jason’s butt, and Jason moved to accommodate. Kennedy’s fingers traced his lips, and Jason tasted himself. It was shocking and erotic, more so when Kennedy whispered, “Suck.”

Suck?

But okay, whatever Kennedy needed, whatever it was going to take to get this done so they could sleep. Jason licked Kennedy’s fingers, took the tips into his mouth, began to suck. Why would this be a turn-on? He wasn’t sure. He gave it his best effort. Salty-sweet. And surprise, surprise… He felt his own cock starting to stir as Kennedy came powerfully, almost violently, inside him.

When it was over Kennedy crashed down beside Jason and, to his surprise, wrapped a muscular arm around him.

Did Kennedy like a cuddle after sex? Now there was a funny thought. Actually though…it was kind of nice like this. More comfortable than he would have thought.

His skin tingled as Kennedy traced a delicate finger over the whorl of pink scar tissue. The exit wound on the back of Jason’s shoulder was larger, uglier.

Jason murmured, “My team went to Miami, and all I got was this lousy bullet hole.”

“How did it happen?”

“Equipment malfunction.” He opened his eyes and smiled at Kennedy, but Kennedy was not smiling.

Well, it wasn’t a funny story. It was a terrifying story. The story of how Jason had nearly been shot to death.

“I was working with the Miami field office on the recovery of almost two hundred ancient pre-Columbian artifacts. We were all pretty excited especially after it turned out these items were in the possession of some very bad actors who needed cash to finance their drug trade. Two birds with one stone.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. The takedown was to take place in a downtown hotel room.”

“Not ideal.”

“No, not by any means, but these guys were shrewd and increasingly suspicious with each passing day. Anyway, the plan was for me to hand over the money and while they were doing the math, slip out and let the tactical team into the room. The door was supposed to be rigged so that it would just swing open. I wouldn’t even have to turn the lever. Only…the lock malfunctioned. I couldn’t get the door open.”

“What the hell,” Kennedy said softly.

“Just what I said. Among other things. Anyway, tac couldn’t get in, and I couldn’t get out. It was only for a couple of seconds but long enough for the Columbians to figure out what was happening. And, as you might expect, they weren’t happy. In particular, they weren’t happy with me.”

Kennedy ran exploratory fingertips along the length of Jason’s clavicle. That knowledgeable but disconcertingly gentle touch left Jason’s skin tingling. “The bullet cleared your vest.”

“Yes, it did. That one did. The other two hit me squarely in the vest.” He stopped talking as the memory flooded back. It had been like getting kicked by a horse in the chest. Twice. A couple of ribs had cracked beneath the impact—which was still a whole hell of a lot better than what could have happened.

He could feel the hard thump of his heart as it picked up speed. Better not to think about it too much. Kennedy could probably feel that telltale pulse too and was liable to start thinking again that Jason couldn’t handle field duty.

“I remember hearing about the Miami shooting,” Kennedy said slowly. “So that was you.”

“That was me.”

He said gravely, “I’m glad you made it.”

“Thanks.” Jason smiled. “Me too.”

Kennedy let go of him and reached up to turn the light out.

Jason turned onto his side and closed his eyes. Kennedy settled on his back with a deep and contented sigh. Jason smiled faintly and let sleep claim him.

He was alone when he woke up.

It took Jason a second or two to realize he was not in his own room—even in the gloom he could tell the difference between a Homer Winslow print and an Arthur Quartley—and then remember the turn of events that had led to him not being in his own room at…he peered at the clock…six thirty on a Wednesday morning.

He threw a glance at the bathroom, but the door stood open and the room was empty.

So…okay. Maybe Kennedy was making a run for coffee. That would be nice. That would be grounds for genuine affection, in fact.

Then he heard the keycard in the lock, the door swung open, and Jason saw Kennedy had been making a different kind of run.

He wore sweatpants. His navy FBI T-shirt clung to him, a sweat-dark line running centrally down to his midriff. His face was flushed and shining with exertion, pale hair dark with sweat.

“You should have—” Jason began.

Kennedy said, “Good. You’re awake. We’ve got to get down to the station. Another girl is missing.”