Profile for Seduction Page 14

  “‘Used to be’ are the key words here.” Suddenly, Stan’s annoyance seemed to fade into weary resignation. “Go away, Lea. This investigation is ongoing. You know as well as I do—as do you, Kenyon—that bringing her here was a mistake.”

  Expression impassive, Marc indicated the crowd of both medical and law-enforcement personnel blocking them from seeing the crime scene. “You said Feiney left her a message. I think it’s important that she see it.”

  “You think?” Stan poked his finger at Marc’s chest. “Last time I checked, I was the SAC here. Take her home, Kenyon. Now.”

  “You’re being unreasonable. Marc’s part of the team,” Lea protested. “He at least has a right to see the victim.”

  “Not with you here.” Stan crossed his arms. “I’m not budging on this one. I could lose my job.”

  She exchanged a quick look with Marc. “And more women could lose their lives if Feiney’s not caught.”

  Marc’s expression told her she’d said too much.

  Stan narrowed his eyes. “Since you’re not on the team and have no part in the investigation, I don’t think whether or not you see the crime scene has any bearing whatsoever on the case.”

  Squeezing her arm, Marc seemed to be telling her to back down.

  “Fine. I’ll wait in the car,” she conceded. “That way Marc and the rest of you can do your jobs.”

  “No.” Marc’s tone sounded as inflexible as Stan’s. “I’m not leaving you alone. Not even here. Especially not here.”

  “Take her home.”

  Slowly, Marc shook his head. “I work for the sheriff’s office, not for you.” Still gripping Lea, he began to move forward. “She’s coming with me. Come on, Lea. Let’s go.”

  Lea’s first reaction was to dig in her heels. Her second—as she caught sight of the fury mingled with relief on Stan’s face—was, what the hell. They’d already placed her on involuntary medical leave. What else could they do…fire her?

  More than anyone on the face of this earth, she had a right to see Feiney’s message. After all, he’d left it for her.

  Blocking their way, finally Stan jerked his chin in a nod and stepped aside. “Go. But make it quick. The crime-scene people just finished taking photographs. Be careful where you step.”

  As if he needed to warn them against contaminating the evidence.

  Shaking her head, Lea went with Marc to view Feiney’s handiwork.

  Chapter 11

  The body had been arranged like all the others she’d seen from before Feiney’s arrest, trial and subsequent incarceration. Partially clothed, cowboy hat over the face and covered in bloody daisies.

  With one major difference. This victim was missing her hand.

  He’d wrapped her bloody stump with towels, apparently able to stop the bleeding long enough to keep her alive and in pain. The better to abuse her and kill her at his own convenience. Lea couldn’t help but imagine the torturous agony this poor girl had gone through. In terror, she’d most likely begged for mercy, only to be met by this…death and degradation.

  Fury—back again, to her relief—filled her so strongly she had to clench her teeth. “I’m gonna get that son of a—”

  “Look.” Cutting off her words, Marc turned her away from the victim. “The message.”

  She blinked, at first seeing only flowers and blood. Then, she looked again and saw.

  Written in a thin trail of blood, linked by daisies, Feiney had painstakingly left her a message.

  I sent you the ring, Lea. I’m waiting for your answer. You have three more days. Then it’s your last rodeo, sweetheart.

  Lea’s blood turned to ice. “What does he mean?” Though she already knew.

  “The severed hand had a ring. A wedding ring.”

  Horrified, she swallowed. “You seriously think…”

  “That he used this poor victim’s ring to propose to you? I wouldn’t have thought it, until I saw this message. Who does that?”

  His rhetorical question didn’t need an answer. They both knew who did that. A madman. Feiney.

  “He’s given me a time line,” she muttered. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. But I have no doubt he means it. We have three days.”

  “Then he’ll kill again.” She blanched. “We’ve got to stop him.”

  “Until he contacts you, we need to go back to the apartment and ramp things up. We’ve got to make him come to us well in advance of the three days.”

  She swallowed. Further proof that to Marc, all this was a job. That he could stand here and talk about pretending to make out, with the scent of death filling their nostrils…

  Apparently, he correctly interpreted her expression, because he leaned in close. “We’ve got to catch this bastard. Nothing else matters, Lea. Remember that.”

  He was right. “As if I could ever forget.”

  One of the crime-scene techs called Marc’s name.

  “Wait here.” Shooting her a quick look of warning, Marc strode away.

  The instant Marc bent his head to confer with the forensic specialist and the technician, Stan appeared. “Quit messing with him,” he told Lea.

  Startled, she eyed him. “I’m not clear on your meaning.”

  “Kenyon. Quit messing with him. You’re not ready and I think he’s taking it more seriously than he is letting on.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, realizing he still thought she and Marc were an item. Since she couldn’t tell Stan their plan, all she could do was continue to play along. “Since when do you get involved in your employees’ personal lives?”

  “Hey, look. I might seem like a hard-ass, but I care about all my employees, including you.”

  “I know you do,” she admitted. In his own way, Stan truly cared. “But believe me, I’m not going to get hurt.”

  “It’s not you that I’m worried about. It’s him.”

  “What?” Eyeing Stan, she wondered if he’d finally lost it. “I like Kenyon. He and I have worked together on several cases and he’s a good guy. To you, he’s just a random fling. But I get the feeling that with him, it’s more than that.”

  Suppressing the warmth that flooded her at the comment, Lea only smiled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “But—”

  “You’ll understand some day.” Cryptic, but as close to the truth as she could skate with her boss, special agent in charge of the Feiney case.

  Stan’s characteristic arrogance reared its ugly head. “I order you to stop seeing him.”

  “You order me?” She couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Since Marc and I are living together and he’s hell-bent to protect me from Feiney’s clutches, I couldn’t stop seeing him even if I wanted to.”

  Glowering at her, Stan leaned in. “I swear to you, Cordasic, if you break him, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  She held up a hand. “There’s no way to put this nicely, so I’ll just say it. Butt out of my personal life.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “Fine. Have it your way. But I want to go on the record as putting you on notice. If you take down one of my best contacts in the sheriff’s office, you may not be coming back to work at all. Capiche?”

  Now his true colors were showing. Had she actually thought Stan gave a rat’s ass about her?

  “Threats, Stan?” She made a tsk-ing sound. “How unprofessional. Also, just so we’re clear, what Marc Kenyon does is completely up to him. I don’t have anything to do with his decisions.”

  “Oh, I think you do.” Stan glanced over at the crime scene, where Marc was still talking to the CSI guy. “More than you know.”

  Since his statement made no sense, she didn’t bother to comment.

  A moment later Marc detached himself from the others and came over. Barely sparing a look at Stan, he took Lea’s arm and steered her away. “Come on.”

  “Be careful, Cordasic,” Stan called after her. “You too, Kenyon.”

  Lea had to bite her lip to keep from snapping
off a smart-ass comment.

  When they reached the car, Marc glanced at her. “What was that all about?”

  “Stan warned me off a relationship with you. He seems to think being with me will mess you up.” Though she tossed off the remark casually, Stan’s comments still stung.

  “Are you serious?” Marc’s obvious amusement went far to banish any lingering doubts. “He really said that?”

  “Yeah.” She gave him a rueful smile. “He called you his best contact in the sheriff’s office. I think he’s worried that if you and I break up, you’ll hate the Bureau.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Unlocking the car, he opened her door for her, waiting while she got in and made herself comfortable before closing it. “Unless…” he muttered as he climbed in behind the wheel. “Unless what?”

  “Unless Stan’s figured out what we’re trying to do and that’s his way of protesting.”

  She thought for a moment. “Not Stan. If he’d any idea what we’re up to, he’d have brought both guns to bear on us immediately. He’s obnoxious that way.”

  Though Marc nodded, she could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe her.

  She waited until he’d buckled himself in before asking, “What’d you find out talking to the crime-scene tech?”

  He glanced at her with a halfhearted smile as he turned the key in the ignition. “Same old, same old. Whoever did this arranged the body the same way, right down to the daisies and cowboy hat. They’re hoping to have a DNA match within a few days.”

  She picked up on his choice of words. “Whoever did this? Anyone with half a brain knows who did this. Does the CSI guy honestly think it’s a copycat?”

  “No, but until there’s a DNA match, he can’t say with a hundred percent certainty. You know that.”

  She did, though it irritated her. One basic truth of law enforcement was never to assume anything. Still, this case was unique. Two girls vanished, one killed and then, a few days later, the second killed and left in the exact same manner.

  Along with the crowning proof—a message written in blood, directed at her.

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “What was different?” She knew there had to be subtle differences for the copycat assumption to be made at all.

  “The placement of the body, for one. The vic’s hands weren’t placed in the praying position.”

  “That’s because she was missing one!” She frowned. “Is that the only difference? That’s not odd enough to assume this must have been a copycat.”

  “The M.E. says this one wasn’t raped.”

  “Damn.” Now that was significant. Feiney enjoyed forcing sexual advances on his hapless victims. “I wonder why not.”

  “Maybe because of the marriage proposal. In his own twisted way, Feiney was trying to honor you.”

  She nearly gagged. Though it made sense, the thought made her want to puke.

  “Lea?” He touched her shoulder, startling her. “You did well back there.”

  She could have reacted in several ways. Once she might have responded with resentment or indignation. Now, knowing Marc, she took his words as he meant them, as a compliment.

  “Thanks. I swear, we’ve got to get him before he captures any more women. No one should have to suffer like that.” Amazing how much more clearheaded she felt when she didn’t allow wrath to consume her.

  Marc parked the car. Somehow, without her noticing, they’d arrived back at her apartment. Cutting the engine, he pocketed the keys and turned to her. “That’s why we’ve got to step this up. By now, Feiney’s probably watched the earlier tape. He’s most likely royally pissed.”

  She regarded Marc hopefully. “Do you think he’s mad enough to make a move?”

  “I don’t know. But we’ve got to continue to play the game until he contacts you. We can play this two ways—you can pretend to be upset over the crime scene we just saw and I can comfort you, or…”

  She raised a brow. “Or what?”

  “I don’t know. Stage fight. Kiss and make up.” He gave her a slow, lazy smile. “Your call.”

  Something intense flared between them. This time, she knew she hadn’t imagined it. With her heart quickening in her throat, it was a moment before she could actually speak. “I vote we play it by ear.”

  “Done.” He got out of the car. Crossing to her side, he opened her door and helped her out, keeping hold of her arm. “Just act naturally,” he said.

  If he only knew, she thought dryly. He waited while she fit her key in the lock. Together, they entered the apartment.

  Marc knew that Lea had no idea of his desire for her. Merely anticipating what they were about to “pretend” to do had his body fully aroused. The strength of his excitement made walking awkward, but walk he did. They made it inside the apartment and he waited while she closed the door behind them, locking both the regular lock and the dead bolt.

  Feiney’s camera would have a clear shot of them where they stood. When she turned to face him, he pulled her into his arms. “Let me touch you.”

  A small hitch of breath was her only answer, so he pulled her closer, luxuriating in the feel of her soft, lush body in his arms. He kept himself perfectly still, letting her feel the full strength of his body against her. She couldn’t help but realize his arousal now and he waited to see her reaction.

  To his surprise, she didn’t move. But then again she probably viewed this as just a job that must be done to catch Feiney. The way he was supposed to think of it, but couldn’t.

  He wanted her too damn badly.

  “Touch me,” she murmured, face against his chest. “Erase the memory of that bastard from my mind.”

  At this, he nearly froze. Was this truth or only her method of getting into the role?

  Uncertain, he made himself go slowly. Hell, if he wanted to maintain some semblance of control, he had no choice. Trailing his hand up her arm, he marveled at the creamy softness of her skin reflected in the glow from the outside light.

  “You’re absolutely beautiful, you know. “

  “Hmm.” She gave him a slow smile full of heat and promise. “So are you.”

  A wave of desire slammed into him, so strong he couldn’t breathe. More than anything, he wanted her passion to be genuine, real. He hadn’t expected this, though he should have.

  Then, miracle of miracles, she touched him, stroked her fingers across his biceps, catching on his shoulder, before she wound her hand in the thickness of his hair.

  “What are you doing?” It came out a growl. “Careful. I’m close to losing control.”

  Her eyes widened, but instead of moving away, she lightly pressed her lips against his neck. “You?” A teasing note in her voice, she wiggled against him. Sweet torment. “I can’t picture you out of control.”

  He took a great, shuddering breath, frozen in place.

  Using her teeth, she lightly nipped his earlobe. “You’d better get with the program and at least try to act like you’re enjoying this,” she whispered fiercely in his ear.

  Get with the program? Christ, she didn’t have the faintest idea how she affected him. Or was she still messing with him? She had to feel his massive arousal, had to realize that, game aside, he wanted her with an aching intensity that bordered on pain.

  He needed her to want him the same way.

  Two could play this game.

  Forcing a carefree smile, he moved away. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. Let’s get something to eat and call it a night.”

  Surely she had to realize the wrongness of this. Like any red-blooded guy would abandon her sensuous arms for the lure of food.

  But Lea, sweet beautiful Lea, bit her lip and eyed him, apparently believing him. Now a faint tinge of pink colored her skin. “Oh.” Did she honestly have to sound so…disappointed? “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t.” Then, while she tried to contemplate, he knew he had to give her the truth and hope she recognized it for what it was.

 
“I want you, sugar. If we continue to do this—” Grabbing her, he claimed her mouth for a brief, hard kiss, barely able to pull himself away. “I don’t know that I can keep from taking you.”

  “Taking me?” she repeated, as though she’d never heard the phrase before.

  “Yes. Taking you. Deep and hard and fast. I want to bury myself inside you and make love to you until you scream my name.”

  There. She’d said she wanted only honesty between them. Little did she know he wasn’t acting now. Camera be damned, he couldn’t seem to control himself with her.

  Her flushed face and heightened breathing told him how his words affected her. Her full breasts with high, pebbled nipples practically begged for his touch.

  What the hell. He decided to press his point. “You want me, too, don’t you?”

  Parting her lips, she tried to form a coherent and honest answer. Her eyes told him she did want him, but not here, not now, not in front of Feiney.

  Playacting could only go so far.

  He waited for her to tell him to go to hell. Instead she shook her head, tossing her hair the way a skittish filly flipped her mane. “I don’t know…I don’t know what I want.”

  He did. He wanted the exact same thing. If only it was another time, another place.

  Gently, softly, the way one might tend to a wounded bird, he pressed his lips to her cheek, using every ounce of his considerable self-restraint not to do more. He caught himself wondering if Feiney was enjoying this. Knowing that scumbag, he was probably furious.

  Though the temptation was strong, he wanted more when—if—he and Lea ever made love. He wanted it to be for real, not some sham thing they did out of frustration.

  Oddly enough, at this point, judging from her wavering, Lea didn’t care.

  Therefore, it would be up to him to save her from both herself and from him. As long as she understood it was all part of the game, they’d be okay.

  She shook her head. “Just don’t, Marc. Okay?”

  “Just don’t what?” He forced the words out through clenched teeth, only partially acting. “Touch you? Make love to you?”

  “I…”

  “If you’d let me, I could chase every thought of that slimy little bastard out of your head.” He deliberately leered at her.