Kylie Brant - What the Dead Know (The Mindhunters Book 8) Read online

  “Expecting to hear from someone?”

  She shook her head. Then shrugged. “Thought I might hear from Tiff. She never responded to the message I sent her last night and I followed up with a couple phone calls earlier today. Goes right to voicemail.”

  He studied her carefully. “You’re worried about her?”

  After a brief hesitation, she said, “No. She might be out of range. I know it was her weekend off, and she’d mentioned going skiing. I’m not sure if she worked last night or not. If she didn’t, she might even have left yesterday.” Seamlessly she looped back to the investigation. “I need to get back to the department. Compile a complete list of Yembley’s known associates.” She smiled grimly. “Got one of them locked up right now, but it’s a sure bet Pete Bielefeld isn’t going to be talking to me.”

  “Time enough to do that in the morning.”

  Finn was unsurprised when she shook her head stubbornly. “I’ll send everyone else home, but I can work a few more hours. Somewhere on that list of associates might be the name of the person he’s holed up with right now.”

  “You can’t go knocking on doors tonight. It can wait until tomorrow.” Her look was pointed enough to draw blood, but he withstood it with masterful stoicism. “First thing. Nothing’s gained if we’re exhausted. We stand to miss something important if we’re not refreshed.”

  Her hands in her pockets, she watched her people finish up. “I can’t figure all the angles. Not yet. Hard to think about sleeping with all these questions rattling around in my mind.”

  He understood what she was saying and guessed at what she left unsaid. It was harder still to rest when they didn’t know when—or if—the killer would strike again.

  _______

  Boone untied Yembley’s feet and took the gag from his mouth. “Get up.”

  “You fucking son of a bitch.” But the words lacked strength, delivered as they were on a moan. “I need a doctor.”

  “You need some balls,” he said unsympathetically. “You want to get out of this alive, you have to earn the privilege.” The blond was watching them with wide eyes. She’d recognize him…of course she would. So after that first time walking in with Yembley this morning he hadn’t made the mistake of coming in with his face uncovered again. He had plans for her. But Yembley had proven an unforeseen complication. One that needed to be taken care of first.

  “What the fuck.” The bigger man changed tactics. Grimaced in what was probably supposed to be a smile. “We’re partners. I did you a favor. Saxon can’t testify about Pete now. They’ll have to release him. I saved the operation. You should be grateful.”

  Boone dropped to one knee, grabbing a handful of hair to turn Yembley’s face up to his. “No, you dumb fuck, that’s not how it works. And we aren’t partners. You’re just brainless muscle. You didn’t kill Saxon last night. And that’s the only reason you’re still alive. I have other plans for her.”

  “You don’t got an operation without me and Pete.”

  Boone shrugged, although there was enough truth to the words for a sliver of worry to work through him. “Pete was a small-timer when I caught him pissing around with portable meth labs in the forest. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be selling half grams to high schoolers. And you…you’re expendable. Always were.” Boone had supplied the brains to the outfit. He was the moneyman. There were plenty of levels between him and the likes of Bielefeld and Yembley. He’d made sure of that. “Get in the truck.”

  He watched the man’s gaze flicker to the pickup. Knew what he was thinking. That he had a chance. That escape was possible. Because Boone wanted him to believe just that, he said nothing, waiting patiently for Yembley to obey.

  He didn’t move. “You owe me. I patched you up just a few days ago. Who’s going to help you if you get shot again?”

  “Not your problem.” He kicked him ungently. “I’ve got a cattle prod under the bench. Get up or I’ll use it on you.”

  The knife wound had been tended to, but you wouldn’t know it by the way the man bitched and moaned as he struggled to his feet then walked slowly to the passenger side of the vehicle, hands bound behind him. Boone’s weapons were in a locked case in the bed of the pickup. No help there. And none at all if he were planning to dive out of the moving truck because he’d had jammed the lock. Once secured, it wouldn’t open from the inside at all.

  He blew a kiss to the blond. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for you.” Then slammed the door after Yembley and rounded the hood of the vehicle to get in the driver’s side. Already the anticipation was crashing and churning through his veins. Better than sex. Way better. He started up the pickup and pulled away, shutting the overhead door behind him with the opener he dropped back into his pocket. And on the drive he concentrated on the building excitement from the one thing that made his life worth living.

  The hunt.

  _______

  “Yembley doesn’t have a hunting license, obviously, but he has one for trapping. So that’s another connection.” Keira rubbed her forehead as she and Finn walked into the family room of the cabin. “Eating made my thinking fuzzy.”

  “That would be exhaustion,” he countered. Which was exactly why he hadn’t suggested opening up a bottle of the wine he’d bought when he’d insisted on stopping for groceries. Dropping down on the couch, he patted the seat next to him. Groceries might be too kind a word for shopping at a convenience store, but, at least, they had something to eat for the next few days, although he had given into Keira’s repeated pleas for pizza tonight. “Our minds replenish after we empty them. Sleep works marvelously to that end.”

  She sat, crossing a foot to her knee and rubbing it. “It’s emptying my mind enough first that’s the problem,” she countered. “All these loose threads are tangled up in there and I can’t figure out how they all tie together.”

  He reached over and gave her foot a slight tug to straighten it and took over the task of massaging. “Yembley is a new lead. We focus on how he ties in tomorrow.” In the next moment, he had both her feet on his lap, his thumb working her arches and the purr of pleasure she emitted shot straight to his groin. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Definitely wasn’t, he amended a moment later. She was facing him now, resting her head against the couch, eyes heavy. A strand of hair curved along her jaw and the flickering fire painted it more gold than red. Hers was a femininity that was impossible to hide, but the uniform usually did a good job of masking it. It said she was a cop first, and he knew that was true. But she was more than that—much more.

  Because he was wandering down a dangerous path he cast about for something to break the spell of intimacy that he’d started. Then grinned, oddly charmed. “You have a hole in your sock.”

  She smiled, a feline curve of the lips that made his jeans feel uncomfortably tight. “I need a personal shopper. Groceries. Socks. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a pedicure? I’m not even sure, but my mother actually keeps track of those types of things. According to her, it’s been a lifetime. When this is over, I just might take a weekend to remember what it’s like to not wear a gun and a badge.”

  To focus on the woman, instead of the cop. There was no reason, none whatsoever, for his mind to spin a vivid mental image of all that might entail.

  She went silent for several minutes, staring into the gas flames as if hypnotized. “I was engaged once.” He wondered if she felt the jolt of surprise that worked through him at the words. But then in the next moment he decided the real shock was that a woman like her was still single. “He was a great guy. Funny. Brave. A little too cocky, maybe, but he was a cop for the right reasons. We had that in common. It should have been enough to start a life together.”

  “But it wasn’t.” He knew better than most that you couldn’t force yourself to feel something you didn’t.

  “No.” She sounded a little melancholy. “The engagement drifted along for two years before it occurred to me that neither of us were in a hurry to take that
next step. Sometimes there’s not enough there. No matter how much you might want there to be.”

  “And sometimes you’re not allowed to know what all is there.”

  Keira didn’t seem to hear him. That was probably just as well. “He was on a SWAT unit. They had a domestic situation and a breach was ordered. He was on the entry team. The guy had the place booby-trapped.” Her voice trailed off. He didn’t need to hear more. He’d spent more time than he’d ever imagined matching and identifying body parts from a very similar scene.

  Keira straightened to swing her legs off his lap. “I don’t regret my time with Todd, even knowing now that marrying him would have been a mistake. It’s never the path not taken that haunts me. It’s being faced with a fork in the road and being too paralyzed to make a choice at all.” Her eyes were clear when she slid over to him. Close enough to transfer the heat from her body to his side. And then in a quick and sneaky move she was straddling his hips, and looking supremely satisfied. “This is me,” she said huskily, her mouth lowering to his, “making a choice.”

  He cupped her nape in his hand, returning her kiss hungrily despite it only being a matter of hours since he’d last tasted her. And he knew that in this one area they were in complete accord. Missed opportunities could be mourned. Whatever the future brought, he’d never regret taking a chance with Keira Saxon.

  He took the kiss deeper, blindly reaching for a silky strand of her hair and wrapping it around his index finger. In doing so his knuckle brushed her jaw. Her skin would feel that soft all over, as smooth and fragile as the petals on his mother’s prize orchids. But there was nothing delicate about the woman above him. And he found her strength an enticing contrast to her femininity.

  There would be countless other silky spots on her body, and he had to fight a sudden urge to discover them all. To explore the places that made her sigh, and ravage the areas that made her moan. He released her hair as he changed the angle of the kiss, his tongue going in search of hers. And battled the temptation for hard and fast and furious. There was far more satisfaction to be had in taking it slow.

  Obeying an unconscious urge that had been simmering longer than he’d admit, he tugged her uniform top out of her waistband and worked the buttons loose one at a time. With a hand on his to still them, she murmured, “We’ll be more comfortable upstairs.”

  He drew back a fraction to look at her. Found himself distracted by the pulse pounding in her throat. “Right now I’m plenty comfortable here.” He closed his teeth on the cord in her neck, scoring it gently. When he inhaled the scent of her soap or lotion, something subtle and inviting, he felt his senses fray. No, he wasn’t going to hurry this. Wasn’t going to race toward the inevitable conclusion. He returned to her lips and let the kiss spin out long and as achy as the throb of a sax vibrato while they both quivered.

  When he released her mouth, it was only to part her uniform shirt and drag it a bit over her shoulders. Leaning forward, he tasted the skin he’d bared and felt a kick in his pulse. His hand stroked her back, feeling the tense set of muscles, the rigidity of her spine. His fingers worked at the tightness there slow and soothing as he trailed a lazy path of kisses along her jaw. After a few moments, he was rewarded when he heard her issue a slight sound and sag against him.

  She slid her hand into his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. Her kiss was direct, much like her personality. No subterfuge, just an unvarnished longing that was a match for his own. He liked that about her. Too much. Each facet she shared, every layer he uncovered fascinated. Their breath mingled as he sank into the flavor of her. Mouths mated, tongues tangled, first quick and darting then a slower, more languid glide. He gathered her closer to deepen the kiss and demand edged in, fierce and sharp as a blade.

  As if she recognized the change in him she pulled away, her gaze never leaving his. She shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it aside. Finn threaded his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. Her profile was as regal as a mythical goddess, and her perch above him like a female deity showing pity on a mere mortal. He reached behind her to undo the clasp of her bra before drawing it down her arms to bare her breasts. High and round, they were made to fit his palms. With her torso bared, her hair shimmering fire around her shoulders, she took his breath away. She was flesh and blood and bone, pulsing with life. Tempting him to join her in descent to wicked pleasure. It was a journey he was anxious to share.

  Shifting position, he pressed her against the arm of the couch and drew one of her tightly beaded nipples between his lips. He laved it with his tongue, quick teasing strokes before sucking more fiercely on it. She gave a little gasp and pressed closer to him, forcing a deeper contact. He complied, covering her other breast with his hand kneading lightly and felt all his other senses dim.

  There was the taste of her, exquisitely feminine and the feel, curves gilded with heat. Everything inside him was focused on diving into those flames and allowing desire to scorch them both.

  Finn lifted his mouth to rub his shadowed jaw against the wet swollen nipple he’d released. Then swallowed her murmur of pleasure. Keira’s hands tugged at his shirt, but he wasn’t in the mood at the moment to help her. There was something too gut-wrenchingly sexy about holding her half naked body in his lap, savoring first one breast and then the other and feeling her twist against him.

  He was a patient man. He’d had to be to work his way through a constant series of accreditations and medical school. So the impatience he felt now was more than a little disconcerting. It was both heaven and hell to take things slow. Especially with a woman who’d ignited a fever in him that just might prove incurable.

  Keira reached down and dragged his shirt from his jeans. Her hands slid beneath its hem, trailing fire in their wake as her fingers stroked his sides before moving to his back, gliding over the muscles there. Her touch torched his blood. He could feel it surging through his veins like a thoroughbred straining toward the finish line. And thought abruptly receded.

  He undid the buttons of his shirt in quick, savage movements and when it was open, he splayed his hand against her spine and brought her closer. That first blessed contact of flesh kissing flesh seared through his system. Skin to skin. Curves to angles. Heat to heat. Her breasts flattened against his chest, he went in search of her lips, fighting an inner battle against the hunger she ignited in him.

  It was moments…or hours later when her hands pressed between them. Reluctantly he released her mouth. Her palms skated over his torso, slowing when she found the indentation where they’d dug shrapnel out of him in Afghanistan. He’d been one of the lucky ones that day. He’d never taken that good fortune for granted. Just like he was unable to forget the luck that had saved Keira last night.

  He didn’t want to think about that now, not any of it. Not when he felt more alive than he had in years. The beat of his blood throbbed to a single synchronized rhythm. Every breath he took had to be battled out of clogged lungs. And all his senses were awash in her.

  She leaned forward, dragging the tips of her breasts across his chest and with each sensual stroke a corresponding bolt of lust tightened low in his belly. She nipped at his shoulder, the tiny sting of pain honing his desire to a razor edge. Finn’s hands settled on her hips pressing her closer to his straining length. He wanted to be buried inside her to the hilt. Wanted to plunge into her velvety dampness until the need exploded for them both, leaving only pleasure in its wake. And he wanted, quite desperately, for that to be enough.

  He’d been balanced on a sword of his own making. Eschewing casual relationships, skirting serious ones. Keira’s earlier words took on new meaning. Avoiding making a choice at all was a coward’s way out.

  Acknowledging the thought had caution stirring. One taste of her wasn’t going to be enough to quench the fire in his blood. One night, however pleasurable, was never going to sate a desire that surfaced whenever he was near her.

  Her fingers went to his zipper. Finn mustered his tattered cont
rol and gathered her in his arms. Stood. Then pretended to stagger under her weight as he headed toward the stairway.

  “Smart guy.” She looped her arm around one of his shoulders and grazed the other with her teeth in an ungentle caress. “Maybe you should save us both broken necks and let me walk.”

  “And risk ruining my best Rhett Butler move?” He paused, one foot on the first landing as he leaned down to take her mouth with his again.

  When their lips parted, he saw humor dancing in her eyes. And wondered if he’d ever seen her look so carefree. “I’m afraid this staircase isn’t made to showcase your re-enactment of Gone with the Wind.”

  “When Rhett Butler fails…” He set her on her feet for an instant before hoisting her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and resumed climbing. “I always fall back on John Wayne.”

  Her helpless laughter was every bit as seductive as her position was. It would be difficult to walk away from a woman who made his blood churn like a teenager’s. Harder by far to leave one he could laugh with at the same time.

  When they were at the top of the stairs, he let her slide down in his embrace until they were eye to eye. “Do you have any more unexpected moves in your repertoire?”

  Against her lips he whispered, “As a matter of fact…”

  Scooping her up in his arms again, he turned unerringly toward her bedroom. He’d been in it once, fleetingly, the night the intruder had broken in. He hadn’t noticed the skylight that first time, though, or the way the bed was positioned in the center of the room directly beneath it, surrounded by walls of glass. Right now curtains blocked out the night on the windows, but the moon hung low in the sky overhead, a jewel pinned to velvet. Moonlight dappled the rumpled covers, and he had a brief mental image of her sprawled on the mattress, her pale limbs painted with starlight. And then it melded into a vision of him joining her on the bed, stretched out atop her, buried in her.