CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
New York City
Lucy and Sean left Patrick in his own room, where he’d set up Bob Stokes’s computer to find the e-mail that had sent the cop to New York two days before he died.
“We should help Patrick,” Lucy said in the elevator.
“It’s one computer, one operator. Are you forgetting your brother used to run the cybercrimes unit for the San Diego Police Department? He knows what he’s doing.”
Sean slid the card key into their door. “And,” he continued, “you’re so tired you’re about to fall asleep standing up.”
Lucy fell down on the bed. “True.”
“Patrick is taking care of Stokes; we’re following Tony’s trail. If there’s any overlap, we’ll find it.”
Sean lay on the bed next to her. He kissed her cheek and gently pulled out her hair band. “Sleep.”
Lucy would have gladly surrendered except she couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that Tony was murdered.
“If someone poisoned Tony, when was it? If Stokes died after coming back from New York, they both could have been poisoned here.”
“What drugs could cause a heart attack?”
Lucy frowned. “Several, but they all have other symptoms. And some are virtually undetectable after they’ve passed through the system.”
“Hans is already suspicious. He’s having the FBI lab run additional tests.” He kissed her. “You’re too tired to think straight. I promise, a good night’s sleep and we’ll both be better focused.”
“It connects to Rosemary Weber. Somehow.” Lucy sighed and put her head down again. “But it’s not my job. Not anymore.”
“You haven’t quit yet.”
“I’m not quitting. I was never supposed to be there in the first place. I’m righting a wrong.”
“No. I’m not justifying what Hans did, but he did it because he knows you’re good. He wants you as part of his team, just like everyone at RCK would be thrilled if you worked for us. You’re a valuable commodity.” He leaned over and kissed her again.
“Thank you.”
“For telling the truth?”
“If I don’t go back I won’t have to worry about the driving test on Monday. And we don’t have time for you to teach me.”
“You know how to drive. I was supposed to teach you how to drive well enough to ace the FBI track. Is it the test Monday or a practice?”
“Defensive driving. No test, but I have to be able to complete the course.”
“You will.”
If she was there. “I hate driving,” she mumbled. She didn’t want to tell him, or anyone, how nervous she got when behind a wheel.
“You’re tense.” Sean nuzzled her neck. “Patrick told me about the accident.”
She frowned. “He shouldn’t have done that.”
“You’re right. You should have.”
“Am I supposed to recount everything that has ever happened to me?”
“I’ve asked why you hate driving.”
“It was never the right time.”
“Accidents are traumatic. But you’ve faced far worse than a non-fatal car crash. Which means, Patrick doesn’t know everything.”
“I was five. It left a lasting impression on me.”
She rolled away from Sean, but he pulled her back toward him, spooning his body around hers.
He was trying to make her comfortable, trying to make her relax and share. But it wasn’t working. He always wanted to know everything, and he usually just guessed. Most of the time he was right.
“What do you think happened?” she snapped. “You usually know what I’m thinking.”
He refused to take the bait. “Not this time. I only know that Patrick has no idea what happened during the crash, and that’s what I don’t understand.”
“I barely remember the accident.”
She’d been in the back between Patrick and Carina, who were bickering about something, but in the good-natured way they always had. They were only eleven months apart, and as Lucy grew up she’d been jealous that her older brothers and sisters were all friends and she was the mistake, the seventh child who came a decade late.
She didn’t remember much about the accident, only flashes. Like she knew it had been raining, rare for San Diego. Her father had muttered something about drivers being stupid in the rain. Her mother had a rosary in her hands. They may have been coming home from church, or that memory might be because her dad told her later. Patrick had taken something from Carina and had given it to Lucy to hide behind her back. Their dad told them to settle down, and Lucy was giggling. She loved when her big brother included her in his jokes.
Then suddenly everything was moving fast. Loud sounds, Carina screamed, and they were upside down.
Lucy went to sleep, or so she thought at the time. She awakened fast, to a loud noise as their van was hit again. She looked around and no one was moving.
She thought her family was dead.
An involuntary moan escaped her throat.
“Hey, Lucy?” Sean sat up, pulling her up with him and holding her close. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t do that. Tell me, princess. What happened?”
“My family thinks I’m scared of driving because I was in the car accident. I don’t remember anything about it, really, just the noise. And everyone was fine, though Carina had a broken rib, I think. Or maybe it was Patrick.” She glanced away. “Maybe there was more to it, but I really don’t remember. That shouldn’t stop me from driving. It’s silly.”
“Early childhood trauma impacts us far greater than anything else,” Sean said.
“Now you sound like a shrink.”
“We’ll get you through it, okay? Let me help you.”
Sean needed to help people. Especially her. He wanted to be the one to fix everyone’s problem, and that was endearing and noble, even when he was frustrating.
“I don’t remember anything.”
“Look me in the eye and say that.”
“Stop.”
“Why don’t you trust me?”
“You know I trust you.” She trusted Sean more than anyone, but that didn’t mean she could just talk about this.
Sean didn’t say anything. But he didn’t move, either. He was waiting.
Lucy closed her eyes. Sean wasn’t going to budge. He wanted to know. She considered making something up, but he would know. She wished she was a better liar.
“I don’t know how to put it in words,” she finally said.
“Patrick said you didn’t want to get your license when you were sixteen.”
“But I did.”
“Of course you did; you’ve never let fear hold you back.”
“And it’s not now. I’ll get through this, Sean.”
“What happened?”
“I thought everyone was dead, okay?” Tears clouded her vision. “Damn you, I don’t want to cry.”
He kissed her lightly. “When I found my plane upside down in the field last May, I thought you and Noah were still in it.”
Maybe he did know. “It’s not logical,” she said. “I was a little kid. But every time I drive, I get tense. Just a flash of memory, me wedged between Carina and Patrick, the blood, the rain hitting our car, and they weren’t moving. No one was moving. It seemed like hours that I was there, crying, staring at my dad, who was so big and strong, but blood covered his head.
“It wasn’t hours, of course. I learned later less than five minutes passed before someone, an off-duty policeman, came over to our van. Everyone woke up after that, but those minutes were forever to me.”
Lucy was grateful that Sean didn’t probe her for more details or offer his sympathy. His even breathing, his chin on her head, was all she wanted—or needed. Comfort.
“Every time I drive, especially on the freeway, I get a flash of my family. When I interned with the Sheriff’s department, I never went to traffic fatalities. I found excuses not to go. Not consciously, but I see it now.”
“And when you and Detective Reid were run off the road last month, you were thinking about it.”
She nodded.
“I knew you were keeping something from me that day.”
She looked up at him. “Thank you for not pushing.”
“I knew you’d tell me eventually.” He kissed her, and her muscles began to relax.
“I promised you a romantic night,” Lucy said. “And all we’ve talked about was work.”
“And you.” He kissed her again. “Lay down. On your stomach. You’re still tense.”
Lucy complied and Sean pressed his fingers and thumb on her sore shoulder muscles.
“Umm,” she said.
“You’re really tense. Take off your shirt.”
“This sounds like a ploy to get me into bed with you.”
“How well you know me.” He kissed the back of her neck.
Lucy smiled and took off her shirt. Sean rummaged through her overnight bag and found her favorite lotion. He poured some into his hands and rubbed them together, then straddled her without putting any weight on her. Slowly, he spread the lotion over her back, kneading her muscles from her neck to her hips.
“You’re going to smell like roses,” Lucy mumbled.
“I’ll be reminded of you.”
Sean’s strong, talented hands smoothed out her stress. He didn’t rush. With each passing minute, Lucy’s mind slowed down, pushing aside the case, her grief, her childhood trauma. The world disappeared and all that was left was her and Sean.
Sean reached around and unbuttoned Lucy’s jeans and pulled them down her well-formed legs. He rubbed more lotion between his hands and took the massage from her lower back to her thighs and down to her calves.
“Oh, God, Sean,” she whispered, and he smiled.
“I wish I could do this for you every night,” he said, and began rubbing the balls of her feet.
“I could fall asleep so easily.”
“Don’t you dare.” He wished she didn’t get this tense. Tomorrow, she’d be back working on the case, focused on everyone except herself. He would do this for her nightly, and enjoy it.
Lucy rolled over and smiled at him. “Take off your clothes.”
“Aren’t you bossy.”
“I don’t like to be naked alone.”
Sean stripped, then ran his hands up her legs, across her stomach, kissing her body as he went. He kissed the faded scars across her breasts, then entwined his hands with hers. He stared at her, her dark eyes craving him as much as he craved her. Her lips parted and she tilted her face up to meet his.
“I love you, Luce.”
She smiled and kissed him. “Make love to me.”
“I’ve missed you so much.” He kissed her lips, her jaw, her neck. He loved her neck, so smooth and soft and sensitive. His tongue explored the sweet trail under her jaw up to her ear and she gasped, clutching his shoulders, when he lightly bit her earlobe.
She breathed his name, a whisper of desire, then wrapped her legs around him.
His penis reached for her as if it had a mind of its own. He thrust into her quickly and she gasped, meeting him halfway. He held himself still, wanting to savor this moment, his hands still clasped in hers, sweat coating their bodies. In tacit agreement they tried to hold off the urgency. Sean moved slowly, needing to relish this moment, to remember every sweet spot of Lucy’s body. The way she moved. The way she moaned. The way she whispered, I love you.
Lucy shifted beneath him and the friction made him groan. It was always like this with them, he wanted slow and prolonged, but the sexual combustibility always burned hot when they were alone and naked. Lucy had learned that her touch, her scent, her body, her voice, just made him crave her even more; she enjoyed his needs, she enjoyed him. They’d built up trust and love over these months, and Sean would never forget this moment, like he never forgot any of the moments they were together.
He’d never get enough of her, never wanted to get enough. “Lucy,” he breathed into her neck; then he leaned up and stared at her glowing face, and her eyes opened. She smiled and surprised him. She flipped him onto his back and sank deeper onto him. Her back arched and her eyes partly closed. Droplets of sweat ran between her breasts, glistening in the faint light, and he grabbed her hips, his orgasm hitting him with a power he didn’t want to control. He held her body down on his and she froze, then let out a quiet cry as every one of her muscles tightened then relaxed simultaneously. She collapsed on top of him.
Lucy smiled into Sean’s chest, her skin slick with sweat and lotion. She listened to his rapidly beating heart, loved the way his arms tightened around her, holding her close.
“I need a shower,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“We should conserve water.”
“Yes, we should.”
Lucy rose from the bed, took Sean’s hand, and pulled him up.
“Thank you,” she said.
He shook his head. “Never thank me for loving you.”
“I meant, thank you for doing all this. Flying me here, searching for answers when we don’t even know all the questions.”
“Huge hardship. Traveling to my favorite city with my favorite woman and making love in the same hotel where I first told the woman I love that I loved her. Yeah, I’m suffering big-time.”
“You know what I meant.”
He kissed her. “I do. What’s important to you is important to me. I thought you knew that by now.”
She touched his face with her fingertips. “I’m very lucky.”
He smiled. “Yes, you are.”
She laughed and pulled him toward the bathroom. She turned on the shower.
“I’m the lucky one,” Sean whispered.