For Love or Vengeance Page 8
Hera hated what she would have to do next, but she did it anyway. She did it for her daughter. Kneeling at his feet, she begged. “Let her live her life, husband. This man—” She motioned to the image of Miguel on the screen. “This man is honorable. Loving. He might make her happy.”
Zeus surged from his throne and his roar shook the heavens with its force. “I will make her happy. I am her father and I will decide her fate.”
Rising regally from the floor, Hera dared to meet his gaze full on. “You were the one who drove her away with your disgraceful lust.”
“Silence!” he ordered, his tone laced with white-hot anger.
Hera would not be intimidated. Raising her chin a defiant inch, she said, “You wish to take the measure of a man?” With a quick wave of her hand, she conjured up a mirror just an inch from Zeus’s face. “Then look deeply at what you see, husband. You may find it seriously lacking.”
She didn’t wait for his wrath.
With another delicate circle of her hand, she transported to another plane, leaving Zeus staring at himself, seething at her disobedience.
It was crazy. Certifiably so.
Dangerous.
Thrilling.
Helene and Miguel had made it to her Chelsea apartment in record time and now they stood in her living room, barely a hand’s breadth apart. Anticipation charged the air around them. She couldn’t remember ever wanting a man quite this much. The evening had been romantic, he was gorgeous, and her body was thrumming with need. She felt warm despite the slight chill of the air.
Miguel gently stroked his fingers over her hair and she almost felt the blast of heat from the contact. He smoothed the curls and laid his hand at the crook of her neck.
“So soft,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips over her skin.
She worried her lower lip, even as she savored his touch.
This was a dangerous step they were taking.
Dangerous both emotionally and physically.
“Are you sure?” he asked. He reached up with his thumb, soothed the spot on her lip that she had been biting.
She didn’t delude himself that the night would lead to anything more permanent. She almost wondered what had possessed her to make the invitation in the first place. No good could come of a relationship with her partner.
Then again, they weren’t talking about a relationship. They were two consenting adults doing what consenting adults did. She smiled. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy this. And no, I won’t regret it.”
Relief washed over his features, but it was tinged with apology, and she understood. He was a man for whom sleeping together was a prelude to something deeper. Something more profound. But for her, sex was just sex.
So she took the next logical step. Literally.
She closed the distance between them until her body was pressed to his, then combed through the strands of his hair. Dipped her hand down to cradle the back of his head and urge him forward, her gaze locked with his until that moment when their lips finally touched and desire dragged their eyes shut.
She was no stranger to his kiss, having experienced it the other day, but that didn’t make it any less enticing.
He was an amazing kisser. He moved his lips against hers, urged her to open her mouth with a slight tug of her lower lip with his teeth. That gentle nip pulled a shudder from her. And a stab of desire to feel his mouth elsewhere on her body.
Without breaking away from his kiss, she eased her hands beneath his suit jacket and slipped it off his shoulders. Did the same with his holster, which thudded against the wood floor. She undid the buttons on his shirt, parted it, and covered his chest with her hands.
“Princess, are you in a rush? Because I’m not,” he said against her lips, breaking away from the kiss.
“You’re not?” she asked, puzzled by his restraint.
He skimmed his large hands across her shoulders, down her arms and to her hands. Twining his fingers with hers, he said, “All good things take time.”
Grasping the lapels of her jacket, he eased it off and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Then he unbuckled her holster and carefully placed her weapon on top of the jacket. With a quick smile at her, he said, “Patience is a virtue, princess.”
Then he bent his head and kissed the side of her neck. He nipped with his teeth, and a swipe of his tongue soothed the spot. Then he moved his hands to the first button of her shirt and undid it. Undid the second to reveal a vee of cleavage. He placed another kiss there, and followed the path of skin with his lips as he slowly undid each and every button of her shirt.
By the time he finished, her need was so great that she couldn’t wait for him. She ripped off her shirt, reached behind and undid her bra, and let it drop to reveal herself.
He groaned and fisted his hands at his side. “Princess, you sorely tempt a man.”
She smiled sexily, and raised her hands to cup her breasts. She ran her thumbs across her nipples, and said, “I’m not patient and I’m not waiting, although I suspect you would be much better at doing this than me.”
Another groan erupted from him, but he didn’t disappoint. He raised his hand and covered hers. Nudged them aside so that he could caress her breasts. He took her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and gently tweaked the tips, immediately replacing his hand with his mouth.
She moaned and cradled his head to her, and murmured, “So much better.”
He had never tasted anything as sweet.
Miguel suckled the hard tip of Helene’s breast, licking and nipping at it while he caressed her other breast with his hand. She urged him on with soft cries that spilled from her lips and the pressure of her hips against his erection.
When he moved away, she protested, and he went to pleasure her other breast. As he had before, he suckled her, teasing and pulling at her nipples, his mouth satisfying her until he knew they both needed more. He moved away just long enough to undo the top button of her pants. The rasp of her zipper was loud in the quiet of the night, but not nearly as loud as the moan when she realized his intent. Then she was eagerly helping him, kicking off her shoes and pants, walking backward until they were at the edge of a large leather couch.
They wouldn’t make it to her bed.
At least not this time.
She lay down on the couch and opened herself for him. Her nether lips were flushed with her desire and he dropped to his knees, slowly licked her before he shifted upward to the soft thatch of black hair. He found the swollen nub at her center and kissed it while he caressed her with his hands.
She let out a soft, pleased gasp and raised her hips for him. She urged him on, stroking her hand across his head. Spreading her knees to open herself more fully, until he could feel the climax rising in her, and his own erection was close to bursting.
He had to be in her.
He undid his pants and freed himself, lowered his body over hers, and they were kissing again. And he lost himself in the heat of her lush naked body under his.
Helene tasted herself on his lips, and beneath her taste was his. Sharp and masculine. Unique.
The tip of his erection was poised at her center, deliciously thick and warm.
“Are you protected?” he murmured.
She was a goddess, and far safer than he could imagine. “Yes,” she groaned, shifted her hips, and took in the head of his erection.
He drove deep into her. So deep it stole her breath.
For a moment they lay still, joined, intense gazes locked, experiencing the physical sensation of being united for the first time. Then he began to move, his strokes sure and powerful, pulling her ever closer to satisfaction.
And she knew one thing for certain.
It might be their first, but it would not be their last.
Chapter Thirteen
Helene wasn’t used to the snuggling thing, Miguel could tell. After they had made love again, this time in her bed, he pulled her close and spooned next to her to get some sleep. Instead of melding into
him, her body went stiff.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he said softly.
The tension ebbed, but it had taken quite a long time before her muscles eased completely.
During the night, a persistent sound woke him.
The princess snored. He smiled. Somehow it made her more human. It was a light sound and a normal person might not have awoken, but his life in the FBI had made him more attentive to the slightest of noises.
Since he was awake and her sleep-warmed skin was flush to his, it was impossible to control the response of his body. During the night he had turned, and they were now face to face. The gentle snore stuttered, then stopped, with the shift of his erection as he slowly hardened against her belly.
She opened her eyes, blinked a few times, and contentment softened her gaze. A sleepy smile slowly transformed into one of welcome as she pressed herself against him.
“It’s a good mornin’,” she said, her voice husky from sleep.
“It is,” he replied. He reached up, cupped her breast, and brushed his thumb across the tip. A lazy back and forth, back and forth, until it pebbled.
She murmured a sigh of pleasure, slipped her hand between their bodies and found the head of his cock. Her fingers encircled him and echoed his hand movement, running her thumb across the tip. Back and forth. Around his smooth head.
“That feels good. You feel good,” he said, nuzzling the side of her face and dropping a series of kisses down to her mouth.
She turned her face the last little bit and they kissed. It was a slow kiss, much like their caresses. A lingering exploration that had them both shaking with need. She shifted her body upward and guided him to her center.
Patiently he entered, inch by inch, until she surrounded him with her heat. But he didn’t move, content to be part of her. An incredible peace settled over him just from being within her and having her body skin to skin.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, her head tucked beneath his chin. A long satisfied sigh escaped her.
He tightened his embrace, and murmured, “I feel it, too. I’ve never felt this way before.”
Helene hadn’t either.
But his rumbled declaration, rather than bringing serenity, created a whirlpool of emotions that threatened to suck her down into a world of confusion where black and white became muddied shades of gray.
Gray was not good for the goddess of vengeance. Her world had to remain black and white if she was to keep focused on her mission.
“Helene?” he asked, as if sensing her confusion, or maybe it was the tension that had suddenly gripped her body.
“I can’t do this,” she said, and started to pull away from him, but he cupped her cheek and gently held her close.
“This? We’re two people who are just—”
“There’s no ‘just’ and you know it. I know you feel it, too.”
Miguel gazed at her evenly. “I didn’t expect for this to happen, either. I didn’t want it.”
“And neither do I,” she said, and pushed against his chest.
This time he let her go, and emptiness surrounded her. She grabbed a robe from a chair beside her bed and wrapped it around herself. After turning on a light, she tightened the robe’s belt and came to stand at the foot of her bed.
“I’m going to take a shower and then head into work.”
Miguel understood what she hadn’t said. She wanted him gone before she came out of the bathroom.
So be it. “All right. I’ll see you back at the office.” He leaned back against her pillows and put his hands behind his head as he waited for his erection to subside.
Her eyes drifted down to that tenting of the sheets and a flush worked across her high cheekbones. Then she turned and almost ran to the safety of the shower.
Safety. That was no doubt why she had put the brakes on this morning’s lovemaking. He had challenged her comfort zone, as she had challenged his.
She was right. Last night hadn’t been just two adults sharing some satisfying sex. Or maybe it had been the first time…and maybe even the second.
This morning it had been about something more. That something more could be dangerous not only for them and their careers, but also the public they were supposed to protect. There was a vicious killer on the loose, and nothing could get in the way of stopping him. Feeling anything remotely emotional for Helene could definitely get in the way.
The thought was like an icy bucket of water. It immediately chilled any lingering desire and drove him from her bed.
No way would anyone at the office have guessed Miguel had spent the night making love to Helene. If anything, she treated him even more coolly than before, and there was no missing the keep-it-strictly-business vibes she was broadcasting at full volume.
Fine with him. It was probably a good thing they were sitting at opposite sides of the long table in the war room, going through the piles of prepaid cell phone forms. They had identified a series of phone numbers that they believed the unsub might have used to call his prospective victims. Although the killer’s information on the forms was probably all false, maybe the handwriting could confirm it was the same person who had bought all the phones. Then they would know where he’d bought the phones and be able to further narrow down the unsub’s hunting ground.
Miguel had been flipping through form after form for nearly two hours when Helene’s head jerked up. “I think I’ve got one!” She read aloud the number and he checked it against the list they had made from the victims’ cell phone records.
“Bingo,” he said, and she jumped up from the chair like a jack-in-the-box, went to the map, and replaced one of the pins with a bright red flag. Then she slipped the form into an evidence bag.
She turned to him. “Which vic was called with this phone?”
“Vic number two,” he said, and she tacked it up on their bulletin board beneath the appropriate photo.
Hands on her hips, she perused the form through the clear plastic evidence bag and shook her head. “This perp has a strange sense of humor. He wrote ‘Rodger Hammerstein’ as his name. The address is ‘One Great White Way.’ ”
“Clearly obsessed with Broadway,” Miguel said, and went to stand beside her. “Hmm. I wonder if there’s some connection between the name he picked and the pose or the location.”
She frowned. “Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote a lot of musicals. Maybe the other forms will help us establish a pattern.”
“Maybe.” He returned to the table and started going through the forms once again, this time also looking for any fake names and addresses similar to the one Helene had uncovered.
He was near the end of his third pile when he found one. “I’ve got a W.A. Mozart here. Address is in Vienna, Georgia.”
Looking at his notes, he realized the number didn’t match any on their list. Puzzled, he walked up to the bulletin board and compared the handwriting. The two forms had clearly been filled out by the same person. He slipped the second form into an evidence bag and pinned it to the bottom of the board, as she had done with the first.
A moment later, Helene said, “I’ve got another one that doesn’t match the list.”
She joined him at the board, although she kept an arm’s length between them. Her form had been filled in as George Cohan residing at Little Johnny Avenue in Berlin, New Jersey.
Sick sense of humor, he thought. “Do you know what shows Cohan wrote?”
Helene’s powers allowed her to know just about everything. All she had to do was open the all-seeing eye in the middle of her brain and pull in whatever information she needed.
Closing her eyes, she reached into the consciousness of the mortal realm and the facts flowed into her mind. “George M. Cohan is famous for musical comedies. James Cagney portrayed him in the movie Yankee Doodle Dandy.” She opened her eyes and tapped at the address on the board. “Cohan’s first big Broadway hit was ‘Little Johnny Jones.’ ”
Her partner had a perplexed look on his face.
“This is not good.” Miguel indicated the two forms. “He’s planning ahead for other victims.”
“At least two.” She frowned at the remaining piles of papers. “Maybe more.”
“We better go through all those other forms quickly. In the meantime, let’s flag where these phones were purchased.”
After checking the addresses of the stores, Helene stuck two red flags into the map, making three different locations where the prepaid cell phones had been purchased. All of the locations were in and around the Times Square and Bryant Park area.
“It’s a start,” he said.
“A good start,” she agreed as she stood looking at the map with satisfaction.
He came to stand beside her and his arm brushed against hers. A shiver of desire danced through her and she stepped away from him.
He glanced at her, his gaze filled with annoyance. “Why are you doing this?”
She looked back at the map with the pins. “Because we’re in the middle of an investigation?”
“This meaning us,” he said and faced her, his gaze probing.
She met it head on. “Last night was a major mistake.”
A dangerously major mistake. It had compromised her focus and objectivity. And it had made her care about him in a way she’d never cared for any man before. Caring was always dangerous.
“Last night was amazing,” he said, and as if to prove it, he cradled her cheek.
At his touch awareness sang through her, and her desire for him awoke, but she tamped it down and turned her head away from his touch. “I need to stay centered on this case. I need to be able to do whatever it takes.”
“And being with me—”
“There is no being with you,” she said with a slash of her hand.
An impatient man might have continued pressing her, but if there was one thing she had learned about Miguel in the days of working together—and the night they had spent making love—it was that he was extraordinarily patient.