Fade to Black Page 8

  “And easy.”

  “If I have to.” Rory was no longer in the mood to mince words. “Kids are dead. We don’t have time to play around. If that means I have to make a few sacrifices … ”

  “I saw his hands on you.”

  “On me.” Rory took a quick gulp of air. “That’s my decision. Keith’s hands were on me the second we got in his car. Some guys are like that. I know where to draw the line.”

  Zach snapped back. “Oh, I could see that.” He nodded to the fact that the collar of her dress was ripped and gaping open, revealing far more of herself than she’d ever planned to share with her partner. The black lace demi bra was practically all she was wearing at the moment.

  That she hadn’t noticed. She’d been in such a hurry to leave that she’d just wanted to get out of the condo. Now she remembered hearing fabric rip. She felt her cheeks flush as her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Unlatching her seatbelt with a click, she fought to control her voice. “I’m good at what I do — even when I don’t like it.” She clutched hold of the two sides of the fabric in a makeshift attempt to appear presentable. “It’s not real. I know that. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep another kid from dying.” She bit down hard on her lip until she tasted blood. “But I am not a whore.” Rory shot out of the car without giving Zach a chance to respond.

  Chapter Six

  “I thought you had to be in court this afternoon.” Rory cracked an egg in the oversized mixing bowl and didn’t flinch when half of it splattered onto the tile backsplash.

  Christian raised an eyebrow as he stood in the doorway while watching his sister. Every mixing bowl he owned was either stacked haphazardly in the sink or stacked precariously in a miniature tower of Pisa on the countertop. “Judge gave us a continuance. Trial’s next week.” He circled behind Rory and turned the water in the faucet onto full hot. Streaming apple scented dish soap into the sink, he began to wash the first of the dishes.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “If I wait for you to do it, you’ll be here till midnight.” He swiped a lime-green bowl with a sponge. “So, are you doing a bake sale for your sorority by yourself?”

  “No.” Rory switched the mixer to a higher speed and pushed through the soft dough in the bowl. “Besides, you know I’m not in a sorority.”

  “Not yet, but next week’s the last week of rush, right Kennedy?”

  “Rory.” She glared at him. “Call me Rory. If you slip and call me Kennedy sometime … well, that could be bad. But yes, rush is next week.” She nodded and her hair slid down her shoulder and formed a curtain alongside her cheek.

  “Your mom would love that.”

  “I’m sure she would.” Not a trace of laughter could be heard in her voice. Throughout their childhood, she and Quinn had been regaled with stories of how they just had to follow in their mother’s footsteps. After all, their grandmother helped found the Kappa Nu Gamma sorority on the Moreland University campus. Their blood practically bled lavender. That was before Quinn developed less than an affectionate bond with school or the teachers at the boarding school realized that Kennedy was gifted … as in Albert Einstein levels of intelligence. At the teachers’ recommendation, their parents had separated the twins after that round of testing. Quinn stayed at the boarding school, but Kennedy went to a special school where she could work at her own pace. Their lives had never been the same.

  With practiced ease, Christian reached over Rory’s shoulder and plucked a finger-full of dough from the bowl.

  “You can loose a finger like that, you know.”

  “You’re careful.” Christian licked his finger and smiled. “Lemon poppy seed?”

  “They’re still your favorite, aren’t they?”

  “If they’re not, you’ve probably got my favorite around here somewhere.” He made a wide gesture taking in the two pans of brownies, plate of cookies, and pie cooling on the stovetop. “You’ve been here a while.”

  “I cut class today.” Rory shifted positions to keep her back squarely facing her older brother.

  “That’s not like you. And you’re baking. Definite sign of stress.” Christian crossed his arms and leaned back against the countertop. “Is it the case or my partner?”

  Rory shook her head and chewed her lip.

  Christian lightly rested his fingertips on her shoulder and tried to her around, but Rory fought to keep her feet firmly in place. “Oh come on, that at least deserved an eye roll.” He leaned closer to his sister and smiled.

  That lasted for about two seconds.

  “What the hell!” His eyes widened as he brushed the hair back behind her ear and tilted her chin up to get a better view of her cheek.

  Rory knew what he saw. It had taken the better part of the morning to halfway camouflage the purplish-green bruise, but nothing could hide the fact that her eye was swollen shut. Mrs. Hoffsteadler even spotted the black eye from behind her sunglasses. Since she didn’t want to spend the day explaining what happened to her eye, she’d taken refuge at Christian’s house and had practically emptied his pantry in the process. “Keith Houke has a temper.”

  “Did you file charges?”

  Rory flashed him a dirty look. “Yeah, like that wouldn’t blow my cover.” She flinched as Christian fingered the edges of the bruise. “Keith’s still my best lead. Stop it.” She pushed his hand away as her eyes started to water. “The drink he gave me was laced with GHB. He wanted to have some fun. I don’t think he thought I’d be capable of saying no.”

  “But still … ”

  “He had drugs, Chris.” Rory slammed the mixer onto the counter splashing batter onto the countertop. “Granted, they weren’t the ones we were looking for, but he’s the best lead I have. I can’t have him arrested, not until I find out if he knows more than he seems to.”

  “Let me guess. You and Zach have already had this conversation.”

  “We’ve discussed it.” Every time she stopped moving, her mind did a play by play of their last moments they’d spent together. She’d never been this deeply affected by a conversation with one of her handlers, and she didn’t want to stop to think closely about why their argument bothered her so much.

  “Well, that would explain his mood today. And my kitchen.” Christian turned back to his sink. “But what about you?”

  Rory took a breath as she fought against her lower lip trying to tremble. “We might have had a difference of opinion.”

  “Hey, talk to me. He’s my partner, but you’re my little sister. I haven’t seen you like this in … well, I’m not sure if I have.”

  Rory fought back angry tears. “He called me a whore.”

  “Keith?”

  Rory shook her head.

  “Zach.”

  “Yeah.” Rory rubbed the back of her neck. Only now did the immensity of the mess in front of her truly dawned on her. Going back to her favorite coping strategy since she was little, she’d been operating on autopilot. Running out of flour should have been her first hint that she’d been at this a while. “Damn.” She turned to the sink and started cleaning the first bowl. “I’m sorry about the mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He reached out and rustled the top of her head, tangling her hair between his fingers. “I’m always here to clean up your mess.” He tugged a dishtowel from the handle on the oven with a flourish. “But you could have stopped after the chocolate chip cookies.”

  “I’ll remember that next time.”

  • • •

  Tennis shoes squeaked against the rubber floor of the rec center as Christian dribbled around Zach. Normally, the three inches he had against his partner meant Zach won each of their afternoon games easily. However, today, he was distracted — and it showed.

  “That makes it twenty to eight. You sure you don’t want to just give up?�
� Christian stood and tossed the ball between his palms.

  “No.” Every time he closed his eyes, he found himself picturing Rory’s face. He wasn’t sure which bothered him more, the purple bruise beneath her eye or the hurt expression in her eyes when she slammed the door of his car.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “What makes you think there’s an it?” Zach lunged for the ball, and Christian darted easily out of his way.

  Christian stopped mid-step and spun the ball on his fingertip. “The score.” He bounced the ball twice before attempting a free throw from center court. Clapping his hands together he smirked at Zach. “That’ll be twenty-one to eight.” He tossed the ball behind his back at his opponent.

  Zach took a breath and tried to focus. This was basketball. He could do this. He still had the Frisco High letter jacket in his closet somewhere, or maybe that was back at his dad’s house. He and Christian started these games when the stress caused by the third dead college student threatened to be overwhelming. Coming in the gym next to the police station for an hour in the afternoons gave them both a chance to work off some steam.

  But today it wasn’t working. He tried to zigzag around Christian, but his partner read his moves exactly. Just when the ball was most exposed, a long arm wound around his waist and stole the ball from beneath his fingertips.

  “Ok. I’m done.” Christian tucked the ball under his arm.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Christian walked toward the bench and picked up a towel. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave a wry smile in his partner’s direction. “This isn’t even a game.” He plopped on the bench and grabbed the blue-tinted water bottle from the floor beneath his feet. “So, what’s going on?”

  Zach shrugged his shoulders in defeat. Stretching his arms behind his back, he had to admit that he hadn’t even broken a sweat. “It’s nothing. Really.”

  “I haven’t beaten you since we started playing.”

  “Maybe I just felt sorry for you.”

  “Like that would ever happen.” Christian tossed his towel at Zach as he leaned down and picked up the gym bag off the metal bench. After stuffing his water bottle inside, he zipped the bag closed and pulled the strap onto his shoulder.

  Zach didn’t have to use his detective skills to tell that Christian was in a rush to leave. “What’s your hurry? Hot date?”

  Christian’s lips curled into a wry smile as he laughed to himself. “Not exactly. I’m going out tonight, and if I play my cards right, it might turn into a date.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and Zach realized he’d gotten a fresh haircut.

  Zach was taken aback for a moment. Christian hadn’t even gotten a haircut for his date with Shannon. He’d been under the impression Christian’s evening with Shannon had gone well, but maybe he was wrong. If so, then who was Christian trying to impress? The answer came to him in an instant. “You and Rory have a good time. Just make sure y’all go somewhere that no one can see y’all together.”

  Christian shook his head. “Two things.” He held up one finger. “I’m not going out with Rory. I wouldn’t risk breaking her cover. And, she’s not exactly my type.” Rolling his eyes, he laughed even harder as he held up a second finger. “My date with Shannon went really well, and that’s why I have to leave. I’m actually taking one of her classes today.”

  “How many classes did you agree to take?”

  Christian tugged on the waistband of his shorts. “About ten pounds’ worth.” He released the waistband with a flourish. “But, if tonight goes like I think it will, it’ll be worth it.”

  “Rory’s not your type?” Zach stood still as his partner walked toward the locker room.

  Christian spun around and backed toward the door. “Not exactly.” He pushed the door open with his shoulder, leaving Zach in the middle of the court.

  Zach took a seat on the bench and stooped over to tie a loose shoelace. Rory wasn’t Christian’s type? He thought back to everything he’d seen. The body language. The instant rapport they had with each other. The curves not even partially hidden beneath most of the clothes Rory chose to wear on her undercover assignments.

  If Rory wasn’t Christian’s type, then why the hell not?

  “Hey, Zach.” Zach’s time for reflection was over as a group of off-duty firemen stepped through the glass door of the rec center. “Looks like Chris abandoned you. You up for a game?” Connor Patten crossed the floor and picked up a ball from the cart leaning against the wall.

  “No.” Zach stood up stiffly and began walking in the direction of the locker room. “I’ve got something I need to do.”

  • • •

  Zach tossed another log on the fire. Unnecessary, really, since the cool front had only dropped the temperature into the upper 50s. But for September in Texas, that was positively freezing. And it gave him something to do other than think about what he’d said to her.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d done it.

  He’d gotten halfway home before the thought came to him. The memory of the expression on her face just wouldn’t leave him. When he’d implied she was a whore … well, more than implied it, the look that crossed her face was as if he’d struck her physically. He had to fix it; if nothing else, they had to be able to work together for the duration of this case.

  She needed to trust him.

  At least that’s what he tried to convince himself. Professional courtesy. They needed a good business relationship. Yeah, right. And pigs would be flying through the pine trees any time now.

  He dropped onto the couch and scratched Otis beneath his collar. The dog sighed with happiness as he tilted his furry head to make Zach scratch him exactly where he liked it best.

  Christian wasn’t interested in Rory. He ran his hand over his freshly shaven jaw, surprised to find a dollop of shaving cream still clinging the skin just under his ear. He was obviously more than a little distracted tonight.

  When the image of Rory’s hurt expression wasn’t playing in his memories, other images were. The sprinkling of freckles that stood out on the fair skin of her cheekbones. Her piercing green eyes that seemed to darken when she was most deeply in thought. If they changed from emerald to forest green when she was thoughtful, what must her eyes do when she’s overcome by desire? Surprised at himself, Zach realized he desperately wanted to find out.

  Otis’ ears perked and he alerted in the direction of the door. He hadn’t even heard the car door slam. Was she here?

  A soft knock answered his question.

  • • •

  Rory stood on the cabin steps, fingers still trembling with annoyance. Did he realize how much he’d just broken the rules? She was the one who texted them — not vice versa. This was her case. They played by her rules … or not at all. She was only working with the police department out of courtesy. One phone call to Anita, and she’d be on her own. She’d made that call more than once.

  Why couldn’t other officers understand how easy it was for her cover to get blown? Although, she let out a breath to calm herself like her yoga instructor taught her, she had to admit, this cabin out in the middle of nowhere wasn’t exactly likely to have visitors. And the ten-minute walk through the woods had been nice. It gave her a chance to calm down, and for that, Zach should be very thankful.

  She rapped quietly on the door.

  The cabin in the woods wasn’t exactly what she expected from Zach. Rough-hewn logs lined the doorway. A welcome mat with smiling brown bears didn’t seem exactly his style.

  The heavy green front door squeaked open and a brown and white head popped out. The basset hound bayed a greeting that echoed off the thick grove of pine trees surrounding the oversized front porch.

  She laughed and her annoyance with Zach was forgotten.

  Until she caught a glimpse of his face. �
��You texted me?”

  Zach ignored her rant as he stepped back and waved her into his house. He reached down and grabbed a blue tennis ball from a basket beneath the cascade-glazed glass sidelight to the right of the front door. He tossed the ball, and the dog went off in rapid pursuit. “That’s Otis.” Zach began to walk down the coffee-with-cream colored entryway and paused next to the refinished dresser beneath a massive oval mirror. A toffee-colored column candle flickered amid a collection of fake autumn leaves. He noticed her interest in the seasonal decorations. “When you’re around here, you have to pretend it’s fall.”

  Rory didn’t move a centimeter as Zach continued down the hallway. He looked back at her over his shoulder. “You found the place. That’s good. Most people don’t on their first try.”

  “I’m not exactly most people.” Rory finally found her voice as Otis trotted to her side and dropped the ball next to her left foot.

  “I can see that.” He pointed at the dog who was currently picking the ball up and dropping it again, almost as if he was trying to get her attention. “He’s not going to stop until you throw it at least once. It’s how he says hello.” His dark eyebrow arced behind the fringe of coal-black hair. In the low golden light of the cabin, his hair glowed with red highlights she hadn’t seen before.

  He flashed a wicked grin that weakened her knees and almost made her forget how angry she was with him.

  Almost.

  “You texted me.”

  Zach nodded as he walked back to her side and plucked the tennis ball from the dog’s mouth. “I think we’ve established that.” He reached out to her, his hand enveloping hers in his, and pressed the damp ball into her palm. Cupping her fingers closed, he tossed the ball for her. Satisfied at the greeting from his guest, Otis happily trotted away into the room at the end of the hall. “Was that so hard?”

  Rory forgot how to speak. Right now, she was working on just remembering to breathe. Warmth spread through her from his warm, calloused hand, still holding lightly onto hers. Standing this close to him, she could smell the spicy, masculine scent of his aftershave. Her eyes narrowed as she took a closer look at his face. He’d shaved? The desire to know what his smooth, tanned skin felt like beneath her lips warred with the fact that she was insanely angry with him. She shook her phone in his direction. “You know the procedure. I text you.”