Constable Hoffarth spoke up. “Ms. Brandt was also involved in a hit and run with a motorcyclist.” She summed up June’s statement succinctly. All three of the RCMP members studied June, their faces revealing nothing.
“This incident also took place at the university,” stated the dark-haired man.
June nodded. “There’s something else. Maybe you already know, but I was shot at a couple of days ago.” She filled in the details. Her fingers twisted together, hidden in her lap. It was getting harder and harder to convince herself these events were isolated episodes. Could she really, truly be in grave danger? She and Alex?
Both investigators asked a number of questions, all of which she had attempted to answer more than once in the previous days. She still had no idea what anything meant, who could be behind it.
“We’ll need the details on your truck.” June gave them. Constable Hoffarth noted them down. “And your fingerprints. Both of you.”
Hoffarth snapped open a silvery metal case, pulled out the necessary equipment and motioned June forward. She cleaned June’s fingertips with a ready wipe, rolled each of them on the ink-pad and then the form. She handed her tissues to clean up with, then repeated the process with Alex. No one spoke.
“Thank you,” the older officer said neutrally. “You can go now.”
****
Alex did his best to appear calm, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling of standing on the edge of a precipice, struggling for balance.
He and June had returned to his office. “What do you think they’re going to do now?” she asked.
He gave what he hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Check for fingerprints, ask around to find out if anyone was seen near your truck.”
June pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and sleeked it restlessly between her fingers. “I don’t imagine there’s much of a chance they’ll discover anything.”
“That would be farfetched, I think. The security guards aren’t there all the time, they only make the rounds. It would be simple enough to do with no one noticing. And even if they were seen, who would care? Half the time I park up there someone’s tucking advertisement flyers under wiper blades.”
In the depths of June’s large shoulder bag her cell phone rang. She fished it out and frowned at the display. “Do you mind?” Alex beckoned her to go ahead. “Hello?”
“Oh, my God, June, I heard on the news! It’s not your game warden, is it? He’s not the one, is he?” The woman’s voice was loud enough for even Alex to hear.
June winced but replied sedately, “No, Tabitha, it’s not.” She moved to the tall narrow window, and he could no longer hear what the caller was saying.
After listening for a while, June spoke. “It’s okay, really. We’re fine.” She smiled faintly over her shoulder at Alex. “I’m kind of busy right now, Tabitha. Was there anything else? Sounds good. Okay. Bye.”
She tossed the phone back in her bag. “Sorry about that.”
“Friend of yours?”
“Tabitha Scala. Someone I know from RiverForce. We’re not friends so much as meeting buddies...you know, the person you end up sitting next to all the time. She heard about Iain’s...what happened to Iain. Underneath all the drama I’m sure she’s genuinely concerned, but it’s not real to her. I only met Iain once, and even I can’t really take it in.”
Alex dropped into his chair and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, avoiding the sympathy on her face. “I don’t know when the funeral is going to be. Iain’s ex-wife asked the Ministry to organize everything. She’s not coming back.”
“It’s hard for you, I know. For everyone in the office, I’m sure.”
He lifted his head. Her lips were bloodless, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He rose and went to her. “Are you okay? What’s going on in that brain of yours?” He tapped her forehead gently with one finger, let it ride down the bridge of her nose to caress her mouth, before resting his hands on her shoulders.
The words came boiling out. “That note, Alex. How can you be so calm? It was a death threat...directed at you.”
Startled by her forcefulness, he attempted to soothe her. “Sticks and stones. Words can’t hurt me.”
“But what if it’s not just words? What if
you
were supposed to get the tip yesterday? If someone wanted to lure you out where they could hurt you, what better way? You were supposed to be on call, remember. You switched with Iain.”
The skin on his jaw prickled and sweat sprang on his upper lip. He gripped her arms.
“Good God,” he whispered. “It’s my fault.”
“No!” she said urgently. “No, that’s not what I meant. Listen to me, Alex.” She broke free of his grasp and raised her hands to his cheeks, forcing him to meet her eyes. “It’s not your fault. The person to blame is the one who killed Iain. But you have to see...you have to realize...it could have been you. And the note...maybe it was supposed to be you.”
He fought back the dizziness threatening to engulf him, struggled to concentrate on her words through the roaring in his ears.
“You have to be careful. You have to take care. Because it can’t happen...I can’t lose you.” She repeated it. “I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.”
Her brilliant blue gaze held fire and courage and something else he was afraid to define. He wrapped his arms around her and held on, drawing strength from her warmth, her slender softness. That he might have unwittingly been the means of Iain’s death shook him to his core. Years of friendship and respect, blasted away by a bullet. He wasn’t sure he could bear the guilt.
“Come to me.” He murmured in her ear. “Come to me tonight.” His mouth seared a hot, moist path along her jawline. He needed her, but he realized with wonder it wasn’t simply sexual. It was also the desire for comfort and companionship, a sharing of sorrow.
The uneasiness icing his veins was consumed in the flame of passion. Unable to deny himself another taste of her, his lips met hers fiercely, grinding against her teeth until her mouth opened and their tongues twisted together, twirling, teasing. He crushed her against his body, hands sliding from buttocks to shoulders, melding her to fit him. “I need you, June.” Desperation filled him, undeniable and indefensible. “It’s your call. Your decision. But I want you so bad. I...” he faded to a stop, pressed his mouth to hers once more. “Come to me.”
Her breath trembled out. He held her so close he could see his reflection in her eyes. She nodded. “Tonight.”
Chapter Twelve
Alex paced from living room to kitchen, glaring at the clock. He was as randy as a teenager, as nervous as a boy planning to get to second base, instead of a grown man waiting for a woman he admired, respected and desired. They were both adults, he argued with himself, both able to make their own decisions. If June hadn’t wanted to come tonight, she could have said so. Would have said so. But when he remembered his actions in the office earlier, he flinched. He’d needed her, and still did, but had he come on too strong, been too insistent? She had told him she wanted a commitment. She had asked for more time to see where they were going together. And then he had practically begged her to sleep with him tonight. He scraped a hand across his chin, irritated with himself.
The doorbell rang.
June stood on the step, shifting the paper bag she carried from one arm to the other. She flicked a glance at him, not meeting his eyes. The sensations in his stomach had nothing to do with the delicious scent of Chinese takeout wafting in.
“Here, let me take that.” He reached for the bag, and when his fingers brushed hers she jumped like she’d been zapped with static. He pretended not to notice, and led her to the tiny dining nook.
A bottle of wine waited, uncorked, next to two thin stemmed glasses with elegantly wide bowls. Tall tapered candles shone with a steady glow. A single rose lay across one plate. She delicately caressed a velvety red petal.
“I know, it’s cliché. But I thought...I wanted...”
He couldn’t avoid her eyes, and heat swept up his neck.
Damn it, he was not blushing. He never blushed. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tightness in his muscles. “I wanted to give you...something.”
She lifted the rose off the plate and brought it to her lips, his eyes following the movement. He swallowed. “I need to say something. About this afternoon. I think I might have pressured you.” He wished she would speak, but she only stared at him with those deep blue eyes, the rose near her mouth. “I don’t want you to feel like that. If you’re not ready, say so and...”
She slid the silky blossom against his lips, and he stopped.
“Thank you,” she said, and replaced the rose with her mouth.
****
When he’d asked her to come to him, the love she’d discovered in herself such a short time ago had coursed through her, and she’d realized in an odd tangle of despair and delight there was very little she would deny him. Her will crumbled against the torrent of his need. To hear him, now, offering to deny that need, made her love him even more.
The strength of his desire radiated out from him and she absorbed it readily as they clung together. It soaked into every fibre of her being, flickered deep into her centre. She wrapped her arms around his neck, winding her fingers into soft, glossy hair. His mouth opened under hers, and wet wildness seethed between them. His hands gripped her waist, hauling her hard against his body, and she arched against him, purring deep in her throat.
He answered with a growling groan, dragging his lips from hers and trailing them down her neck. She shivered ecstatically as he licked along her collar bone, curving back in his arms to give him greater access. His hand came up, cupping her breast, taunting the nipple with his thumb.
They shuddered together. A fine vibration ran through his body, like a plucked guitar string. Sinking against him for support and sensation, she reached with unsteady fingers for the buttons of her shirt.
Alex’s eyes, glazed with greed, watched steadily. His hands slid up her ribs, slipping the blouse from her shoulders, finding their way to the clasp at the front of her bra. So gently, so slowly, he peeled back the lace. Cool air pebbled her naked skin, replaced by fire wherever his gaze travelled.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “God, so beautiful.” He dipped his head to her breast.
The shock of it sent a thrill through to her core. She gasped, grasping his shoulders. He drew the nub taut into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, and she lost all sense of self. When he pulled away, she whimpered and stretched up, wordlessly begging for more.
He laughed, a catch in his breathing betraying the fact he was far from unmoved himself. “We’re supposed to have dinner, first.”
She wiggled against him, feeling his hardness through his jeans. “I’m not hungry.” She nibbled his bottom lip.
“Oh, God,” he moaned. “Wait, just wait.” He backed away, taking her hand and staggering for the stairs, dragging her behind. “At least until we get to the bedroom.”
They fell onto the cool blue comforter, a hot tangle of limbs and lips and lust. June slid her hands under his cotton T-shirt, palms pressed to the firm flesh of his chest, skimming through the wiry hairs. She circled the raised bud of his nipple with a fingernail and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Take your shirt off. Please,” she said shakily.
He pulled it over his head. Her hands savoured his body, as if she no longer controlled them, as if they belonged to someone else. She traced the line of dark hair, following it as it arrowed down and disappeared into his jeans. Her fingertips grazed the waistband, brushing against the bones of his hips.
He grabbed her hands and pinned them on the mattress over her head. “You’re killing me.” He kissed her roughly, tongue and teeth demanding. “But I can’t get enough of you.”
His breath fluttered along her cheek. He tasted of coffee and mint.
They explored each other thirstily, thoroughly, half-dressed but completely aroused. The blood coursed thickly through her. His fingers dallied over her belly to the fastening of her slacks and stopped. She sighed in protest and raised her hips, inviting him, begging him.
His eyes were black with hunger. “I can still stop,” he said, voice hoarse. “If you say it, I’ll stop now. God, don’t say it.”
She was fluid, liquid, boneless. “Touch me. Please, touch me.”
He fumbled slightly as he undid the button and zipper, then slid the material down her thighs, over her knees, and swept it away. She lay helpless, watching him, feeling his eyes trail up her legs, resting for a breathless instant where a tiny scrap of flimsy lace pretended to hide her private self, lifting to her breasts, to her face. He lowered himself alongside her, resting on his elbow. With his fingertips he blazed glory along the inside of her arm, on the underside of her breast, over her navel, along the muscle of her thigh. She quivered, and instinctively her legs opened, exposing her centre to his questing hand.
His touch through the thin material sent a rush of excitement pouring through her. He stroked, unhurried but relentless, until her breathing was ragged and panting. Kaleidoscopes flashed behind her eyelids. Earthquakes of sensation flooded through her, taking her higher and higher, until release rippled violently out to every cell in her body.
When cool air replaced the heat of Alex’s body she forced her eyelids open. He stood next to the bed, removing the rest of his clothing. Strength returned to her limbs at the sight of his arousal.
Slowly he stretched himself above her. She reached around to cup his buttocks, feeling him hard and hot against her. The hairs of his chest chafed her breasts erotically.
“Open for me,” he said. She shifted slightly, and in a slick, smooth motion they were joined.