So she’d shared with him. First sex, now this. Big deal. Tomorrow morning he’d wake up and realize what she’d shared was that she’d never gotten over Cameron’s death. That being with her was a battle, and it wasn’t merely uphill, it was like climbing a fricking mountain with only your bare hands for leverage.
Then he’d ask himself if it was all really worth it.
Max took a deep breath, drew in his scent, and felt her eyeballs ache again. He was a cop. Cops died in the line of duty. She pushed against his arms. “Will you call me tomorrow and let me know if they find anything suspicious about any of those callers?”
Witt stiffened, then dropped his arms, his fingers trailing across her breasts, then the sleeves of her blouse. “Max gives, and Max takes away.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She was afraid she knew.
“You give me one freaking inch, and then you rip away two. We aren’t gonna move forward like that.”
“Just because we had sex does not mean we’re supposed to move forward.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them. He’d forced her to say they’d made love. Now he knew she hadn’t meant it.
He closed in on himself, shuttered his eyes with a cold blue as impenetrable as ice. The talk turned to business as he rose to put on his pants and shirt. “You’ll have to take the calls tomorrow night. There won’t be time to check and eliminate everyone. We still need Achilles.”
“I know that.” She hugged her knees to her chest and crossed her feet to cover her pantiless state, should he bother to look at her.
In silence, he sat on the chair and tied his shoes. Then he rose, shoved his tie in his jacket pocket, and slung the garment over his shoulder. He moved to the stairs. With a foot on the first tread and one hand on the jamb, he turned. “I’m sorry your husband died, Max, but you’ve gotta move on sometime. If you don’t, you’re gonna spend the rest of your life talking to a dead guy. And you’ll still be alone.”
Alone and in hell. She was used to it.
*
Utterly satisfied, Bethany fell asleep. Max lay alone in the dark. She didn’t call out to Cameron though she knew he was there, waiting to hear her voice, waiting for her to say she needed him.
It seemed she always kept men waiting. They sure as hell wouldn’t stick around forever if she kept it up. Wasn’t that the meaning of Witt’s cryptic message?
Not that she needed Witt anyway. Except to help her trap a villain. All right, so it had been a few villains. Okay, so she liked him, too. The sex had been pretty good. Okay, it had been great. Big deal. She’d had great sex before and would again. So she’d told him about the night Cameron died, something she wouldn’t even talk about with Cameron himself. She’d only done it to send her own message. She wanted him to know she wasn’t going to be an easy mark.
God, when she closed her eyes, she could smell Witt in the room, feel his fingers on her jaw, savor a fleeting taste of him.
She rolled over and punched her pillow. It would be better for them both if he got the message and dropped her like a hot potato. She still hadn’t figured out why the guy hung around. Besides being a masochist. What did he see in her that kept him coming back when she treated him like dirt? She did do that, she knew, wasn’t proud of it, but couldn’t seem to find another way. When he finally went, she’d be fine, though, cross my heart and hope to die. She ignored the twisting in her belly. She’d be fine, and she’d find Bethany’s killer on her own. After all, she was psychic and possessed by the dead woman’s spirit. Bethany would eventually tell her everything she needed to know.
“Jesus Christ, you finally admit it.”
“Get out of my head, Cameron.” She was pissed he finally decided to pop in when she’d needed him hours ago.
“You didn’t need me tonight, sweetheart. You needed Witt. He gave you what you wanted, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t give me anything.”
“You’re too stupid to appreciate it.”
“I thought you didn’t like me sleeping around.”
“Don’t lie to either of us, Max. He’s much more than a good lay and you know it.”
She didn’t have an answer. Or rather she was very much afraid she did. “Leave me alone.”
“You told him about the night I died.”
Her blood hammered through her veins. “I only told him so he’d go away.”
“You told him so he could hold you while you cried.”
A chill slithered across her scalp. “I didn’t cry.”
“Then you backed off at the last minute. Scared to death like you always are.”
“I wasn’t scared.”
“Why didn’t you tell him what they did to you?”
“It wasn’t necessary. I told him the worst part, about what they did to you.”
“Watching what they did to you was worse, knowing that I couldn’t stop it, knowing you wanted them to kill you, too. That was the worst.”
“For you, Cameron, not for me.”
“For us, my love. We both died that night.”
“You’re so fucking melodramatic. I’m here. I’m fine.”
“You talk to a dead man. You run away from the live ones.”