She shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. He tried to concentrate on chewing and then swallowing them, knowing they both needed to eat, but all he wanted to do was take her back into the bedroom and ride her like there was no tomorrow.
Thomas blew out a breath. “You eat some of those eggs, too,” he murmured. His eyebrow quirked. “You’ll need the energy.”
But Nikki had other plans. Apparently she had gotten as worked up as he currently was, for the next thing Thomas heard was the sound of a fork clanging against a plate. A second later, her arms were wrapped around his neck, her head was thrown back, and she was moaning and groaning as she bounced away on top of him.
He about came just watching her big breasts jiggle. The sound of her pussy repeatedly suctioning him inside her made beads of sweat break out on his forehead.
Thomas’s jaw clenched. His fingers found her waist and dug into the flesh there. “I guess the goddamn eggs can wait,” he gritted out.
Chapter 21
Wednesday, July 23 2:07 P.M.
Thomas stared at nothing as he listened to Ben spill out
the facts to him over the cell connection. The things Detective O’Rourke was saying to him felt surreal, as if they couldn’t possibly be true. Thomas’s body had gone numb, though he could feel his stomach knotting up and his heart dropping into it.
“You’re sure?” he quietly asked.
“Yeah.” Ben sighed. “We can’t be one hundred percent positive until the DNA results come in, but the blood type is a definite match.” He paused, his tone sympathetic. “I’m sorry, man. I’ve never been sorrier about anything in my whole fucking life.”
Thomas closed his eyes against the pain. The search of James’s house was still in the discovery phase, but the CPD had already recovered a few items from it, such as hair and fibers, that his partner would have a hard time explaining away. The most difficult discovery from Thomas’s vantage point, however, was the blood-soaked shirt that had been found wedged between two books in a closet. More horrific still, it was a blood-soaked shirt that had belonged to his sweet, dead Amy.
“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” Thomas rasped out.
Ben was silent for a moment. “I know this is hard, but we need to focus here for a minute. I’m doing my damnedest to locate James, but right now the chief wants it kept quiet. Until we know for sure—”
“Amy’s shirt is a pretty good sign,” Thomas snarled. “What the fuck else does he need?”
“I agree. I think he’s just having a hard time accepting it. A part of him is still searching for another explanation.”
Thomas briefly closed his eyes, understanding that feeling all too well. “Is he giving you the kind of help you need?”
“Yeah—yeah!” Ben quickly assured him. “It’s just, well, they ain’t you, buddy. I sure could do with an experienced set of eyes.”
“I can’t.” Thomas sighed. “I want to come back and help you, goddamn, you must know I want to come back and help you—”
“But Dr. Adenike.”
“Exactly,” Thomas murmured, running a hand over his jaw. “You saw Monica Baker-Evans postmortem. I can’t let that happen to her.”
Ben sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick here . . .”
“But?”
“What if we never find James?” he asked reasonably. “I mean, you can’t stay in hiding with her forever. The chief will allow you only so long. You know that.”
And Thomas had already considered that. “I’ll take personal time if I need to,” he said firmly.
“And when that runs out?”
Thomas frowned. “Hell, I don’t know.” He sighed. “I haven’t got that far along in my plans. Look, hang tight, O’Rourke. Keep searching. In the mean time, let’s wait and see what happens with the ad Nikki and I put in at
Dom4me.com
. It might be the break we need.”
“Will do.”
“I need to go,” Thomas said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “I’ve got . . . a lot of things to come to terms with.”
“You don’t need to explain, man.” Ben sighed. “You don’t need to explain a damn thing.”
“Ohio Senator Priscilla Harrington-Barnsworth will return home to Cleveland next week for a four-day respite with her husband and son before resuming her duties in Washington. Speculation has arisen suggesting that November’s campaign is the last reelection she will seek in the Senate, and that she will, in fact, run for the governor’s office in four years. The senator’s spokesman has declined comment, citing that the Harrington-Barnsworth camp can only focus on one race at a time.”
Kim absently watched the midday news, her thoughts scattered. She sighed as she flicked off the TV by remote, then stood up and slowly made her way toward her bedroom window. Her ankle was doing a lot better and seemed to get stronger with each passing day. Thank god, too, because she was due to head back to Eastern Academy to teach in a few short weeks.
Her blue eyes flicked beyond the window to where Megan was shooting a gun at a makeshift target. Kim had to squint to see her because Megan was a good ways down the estate in the side yard.
A gun . . .
Kim shook her head, disbelieving that her stepmother had done something like purchase a revolver let alone teach herself how to shoot one. It might have been understandable given the current circumstances, but it was still completely out of character for her. Or was it out of character? Kim conceded that she didn’t really know because she didn’t know her stepmother as well as she’d thought.
The things Megan had said to Kim two days ago had truly thrown her for a loop. She hadn’t sought her stepmother out, or even talked to her since then, because in all honesty she didn’t know what to say. A part of her wanted to try, to give Megan another chance, but another part of her couldn’t help but to remember all those embarrassing occasions she’d brought friends home only to find Megan drunk as a skunk, passed out on various pieces of furniture.
“Oh, how adorable,” she could still hear Cilla Harrington (now Harrington-Barnsworth) saying in that pompous, contemptuous tone of hers, “is this part of Laura Ashley’s latest collection?”
Not that she really cared what Cilla Harrington and others like her thought. But still . . .
Kim’s hopes had been so high when her father had remarried. In the beginning things between her and Megan had been good, too. Kim had needed a mother and Megan had seemed to want a daughter. But the longer Roger and Megan Cox were married, the more withdrawn her stepmother had become. After that, the drinking began. Before Kim knew it, Megan was as estranged from her as Roger had always been.
Megan
. She sighed. She couldn’t think about her stepmother right now. Even if she wanted to, she still couldn’t, for her mind as of late had been plagued with other things.
Kim couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but something didn’t feel . . .
right
. It wasn’t ESP or anything like that in so far as she knew, yet she’d been harboring a strange feeling in her gut ever since the night Ben had driven her, Megan, and Nikki back to the Cox estate. Actually, she’d been harboring that feeling ever since the day she had first met Ben in Detective Cavanah’s office, but since she hadn’t come into contact with him again until Nikki had received that email from Lucifer, the feeling had lain dormant.
The feeling, unfortunately, was back. Something wasn’t right.
Kim sighed, having no idea what it was about Ben that made the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stir. She frowned, hating it when things like that happened. It was like trying to recall a name or telephone number when your memory didn’t feel like cooperating. The more she tried to figure it out, the fuzzier the impressions got.
Her absent gaze went back to Megan. She shrugged her shoulders, deciding to let the worry go for the time being. It wasn’t like there was much choice.
Nikki’s concern for Thomas grew more and more acute
as the evening wore on. He’d been like this for hours now, drinking liquor and staring at nothing, his gaze absent. His five-o’clock shadow had already come back, which added an even more dangerous level to his appearance.
She wished she knew what was upsetting him. Unfortunately, he had refused to open up to her after he’d gotten off the phone earlier today and had locked himself in the bedroom for about two solid hours following that conversation. When he finally emerged, his breath reeked of alcohol and his speech, what little he’d granted her with, was slurred.
The drinking had only escalated from there. She had no idea how one man could hold down so much liquor without acquiring alcohol poisoning, but there it was.
Finally, unable to take any more, and totally worried about Thomas, Nikki walked over to the couch and snatched the bottle of Jack Daniels from his hand. His eyebrows slowly drew together.
“Why the hell’d ya do that?” he slurred.
Her nostrils flared. “I think you’ve had more than enough. You need to go lie down. Try to sleep it off.”
Thomas frowned. “I’m not tired.”
“Yes, you are,” she snapped.
“Has anyone ever told you what a meanie you are?”
“Every drunk the police have ever escorted into the hospital.” She sighed, her eyes briefly closing. “Just go to bed, please.”
“No.” He glanced around. “Truthfully, I don’t think I can walk.”
Her jaw clenched. Surprise, surprise. “Will you go if I walk with you?”
His dark gaze flicked over her breasts before landing on her face. “Will you go to bed with me?” he asked thickly.
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Hate to break the news to you, Detective, but I’m a doctor. And as a doctor I am willing to wager you couldn’t get it up right now if your life depended on it. Come on,” she said, tugging at his arm, “let’s go.”
Thomas muttered something imperceptible under his breath, but allowed her to help him up. He leaned on her enough to stay upright, but even inebriated was careful not to give her his full weight. The last thing he needed was to topple her over. Lord knows if she fell on the floor, he’d go down with her. Then they’d both be stuck there for who knows how long, because he was pretty damn certain he wouldn’t be able to get back up.
“I’m sorry,” he groaned as Nikki led him into one of the bedrooms. “I don’t ever do this. Really I don’t.”
Nikki said nothing. She could sense he meant his words. He was having a difficult time speaking, yet he’d wanted her to hear him say that. “Hey, the only one here you’re hurting is yourself. Apologize to the mirror, because I’m not the one who’s going to have the headache from hell when I wake up.”
Thomas frowned. “You’re right about that,” he mumbled as she led him the rest of the way into the bedroom.
“Maybe next time you’ll talk to me instead of drowning your sorrows in drink,” Nikki said ruthlessly. She figured he was learning his lesson, because without a doubt he would be sick as a dog when he woke up. He was already heading that way quickly.
He half groaned and half whimpered as he plopped down onto the bed. “You’re a big meanie, Dr. Cavanah.”
Nikki’s eyes widened when he called her by his last name. Her heart began beating rapidly. “Get some sleep,” she whispered, reminding herself he’d been drinking. “I’ll come check on you throughout the night.”
Thomas rolled over onto his back and flung an arm over his head. “Nikki,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes.
“Yes?” she quietly asked, still reeling from his reference to her as Dr. Cavanah.
“Come here.”
She blinked, then did as he’d asked. Quietly padding back over to the bed, she came to a stop next to it.
“Come here,” he growled without opening his eyes.
“I’m here.”
He frowned, his dark eyes slowly opening. “Closer,” he grumbled.
Nikki didn’t know what he wanted, but figured he probably didn’t either. What made sense to a man who had been drinking often made little or no sense to anybody else. Still, she leaned in closer, her breasts dangling next to his face. “Yes?” she whispered.
Thomas reached up and began gently massaging her nipples through the fabric of the T-shirt she wore. She swallowed a bit roughly, but didn’t stop him. He played with them about thirty seconds or so, arousing her beyond belief, before his hands fell to his sides and his eyes closed again.
She blew out a breath and, with some effort, straightened up.
“I know what name I called you by,” he muttered, as if reading her thoughts.
She stilled. “Get some rest,” Nikki said softly. “You need it.”
Thomas ignored her. “Freud once said the only time people tell the truth is when they are tired or drunk.” He opened his eyes long enough to rake his gaze over her. “I’m both.”
Nikki checked on Thomas countless times throughout
the night. She could tell he was in a great deal of pain. Being a doctor, and worried to boot, she encouraged him to try and vomit just in case he did have alcohol poisoning. But even when she held out a garbage can for him to relieve himself in, he wouldn’t do it. Too stubborn to show a weakness, she supposed.
Every time she went in the bedroom to check on Thomas, he didn’t want her to leave. He would mutter for her to lie down beside him, which she did for the few minutes it would take for him to fall back to sleep.
She enjoyed those stolen moments more than she cared to admit. She doubted he’d remember the way she ran her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, or whispered encouraging words to him as she kissed him on the forehead. She let herself indulge in those acts, reminding herself that it was now or never, for when he awoke he might still be upset and not want her around him at all.
Nikki thought back on Thomas’s mumbled words about Freud, softly smiling as she did so. Inebriated as he was, the detective had more or less confessed that he harbored feelings toward her, feelings he was unlikely to admit to sober. If that was the case, any hopes at a future with him would be like the deaf leading the blind. He was too stubborn to admit to caring about her, and she was too wracked with self-doubt to admit to caring about him.