Fatal Exposure

chapter 9



Parker stared out his condo window at the gathering night.

A cop might have killed his brother. Someone he’d worked with. Someone he respected and trusted. Someone he might even work with now. A coldhearted murderer could be masquerading on the police force, a man who’d violated his vow to protect and defend the innocent, sullying the integrity and responsibility of the badge. A man who defied everything Parker believed in—honor, justice, truth.

And he might have worked in the homicide unit at the time of Tommy’s death, destroying evidence, compromising his brother’s investigation, committing any number of other crimes.

Still not willing to believe it, Parker braced his forearm on the glass and struggled to marshal his thoughts. He knew better than to rush to conclusions; he had to stay objective and let the evidence build his case. There might be a logical explanation why those photos had disappeared, one that didn’t implicate a cop.

But what the hell it was, he didn’t know.

He turned his head toward Brynn. “You’re sure you sent those photos to the police?”

Her eyes troubled, she gave him a nod. “I looked up the address in a phone book—the Baltimore Police Department on East Fayette Street. Then I went to the post office and bought a bunch of stamps from the machine. I’m sure it was enough.”

So those photos must have reached the department. And someone had either mislaid or destroyed them. The queasy feeling inside him grew. “Did you keep a copy?”

“No, but I hid the negatives. I wanted Haley and Nadine to be able to find them if something happened to me.”

His pulse began to race. “So they still exist?”

“Hopefully.”

“Where did you hide them?”

She hesitated a beat. Her distrust stung, but he understood her reluctance to speak. Someone could be trying to kill her to keep that evidence from coming to light. And it appeared to be a cop.

“In the Central Library,” she finally said. “The Enoch Pratt Library on Cathedral Street. I used to go there a lot to study their photography books.”

He glanced at his watch. “They’ll be closed by now. We’ll have to look for them tomorrow.”

“They might not be there,” she cautioned. “It has been fifteen years.”

But if those negatives still existed, he intended to find them. Because if they could provide a clue to Tommy’s death...

Suddenly needing another drink, he walked over and retrieved his glass. “More vodka?”

When she shook her head, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself a refill, still mulling over the case. He’d been a patrol cop when Tommy had died. He hadn’t known many people in the homicide unit back then, aside from Hoffman and Vernon Collins, the lead investigator on his brother’s case. It wouldn’t hurt to check his background for a possible connection to that gang.

Parker knocked back a slug of vodka and swore. Complicated didn’t begin to describe this case. Implicating Hoffman in Erin Walker’s death was risky enough. If Parker tried to tie him to his brother’s crime scene, he’d ignite a firestorm, thrusting the entire Baltimore police department into an uproar, causing repercussions that could last for years.

And what if he was wrong? What if a cop wasn’t involved in Tommy’s death? All Parker had were random incidents he couldn’t connect—two dead girls, missing photos from his brother’s crime scene, a mysterious, hand-engraved necklace and a gang who wanted them dead. And he couldn’t accuse anyone without proof.

Brynn strolled through the kitchen doorway and set her glass in the sink. She leaned against the counter beside him and crossed her arms. “So what do you want to do next?”

“I’ll make some calls, find out who worked in Homicide when Tommy died. We can see if anyone had connections to the C.D. gang.”

A frown creased her brow. “What I don’t get is why the Ridgewood gang is after me. They weren’t even around back then. Why would they care what I’d seen?”

“Good point.” And a disturbing one. “I doubt many City of the Dead members are still alive. Fifteen years is a lifetime on the streets.” So how were the two gangs linked? And if they weren’t connected, why was the Ridgewood gang after Brynn? Unless they wanted Jamie’s necklace... But that made even less sense.

“My supervisor transferred over from the gang unit,” he told her. “I’ll ask him what he knows.”

Brynn tilted her head, her eyes curious. “Where do you work? You never said what unit you’re in.”

Realizing what he’d let slip, he took a swallow of vodka to buy some time. “Homicide,” he said, deciding to stick close to the truth. “But I didn’t join the unit until years after Tommy died, and there’d been a lot of turnover by then. The burnout rate is pretty high.”

It wasn’t a total lie. He had worked in Homicide until Hoffman had decided to prioritize the cold case squad and invited Parker on board. Still, deceiving Brynn felt wrong.

But he couldn’t tell her the truth. She’d never trust him if he did. And she was keeping secrets, too. She hadn’t revealed that Hoffman was her stepfather. She hadn’t told him why she’d run away from home—even if he’d guessed the reason behind her flight.

But could he blame her for not coming clean? If no one had believed her before...

He skimmed her glossy, auburn hair, the beckoning lilt to her bowed lips, the sweater molding to her slender curves. Then his mind flashed back to the photo of her standing in the alley beside Tommy—a scrawny, underfed kid with torn jeans and untamed hair. She’d been so damned young, her eyes so wounded and hollow, with the same raw, traumatized look of the victimized kids she photographed now.

His thoughts swerved back to her file, and the doubts he’d been harboring returned with a vengeance, impossible to ignore. What if she’d told the truth about the sexual abuse? What if no one had believed her back then? What if no one had looked for the cause behind her angry behavior and listened to her cry for help?

And what if no one had stopped a dangerous predator who’d continued racking up victims for years while he pretended to champion their cause?

That thought shuddering through him, he gazed into her blue-gold eyes. And despite not having proof, despite Hoffman’s warning that Brynn would manipulate him, the temptation to believe her grew. It explained why she’d acted out, why she’d run away from home. She’d been desperate. Abandoned. Alone.

He ran his gaze over her face, the delicate lines of cheeks and jaw. She was so beautiful. So determined. So strong.

Because if he’d guessed right, the terrified child who’d fled an abusive home had not only survived; she’d grown into a formidable woman—a woman who’d dedicated her life to helping the hopeless. A woman who championed forgotten kids. A woman who confronted hypocrisy head-on, refusing to let society brush these victims aside, no matter how dirty or inconvenient the truth.

But he wasn’t blameless, either. He’d always prided himself on his integrity. He’d vowed not to repeat his father’s mistakes. But he’d never questioned Hoffman. He’d let the man’s position and reputation blind him to his sleazy crimes—enabling him to destroy more lives.

But could Hoffman really be that evil? Could he really be trying to quiet Brynn permanently, as she claimed? Could a man he’d put on a pedestal—who even Senator Riggs lauded as a hero—have molested children for all these years?

“Listen, Parker...I’m so sorry about Tommy,” Brynn said, pain lacing her soft voice.

Realizing she’d misunderstood his silence, he sighed. “I know.”

She took another step closer, her eyes searching his. “I wish... I’d do anything to go back and relive that day, to make it right.”

Her sincerity humbled him. Even now, after everything she’d suffered, she was worried about hurting him.

His throat thickening, he reached out and tucked her fiery hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t your fault. And what you told me... It means a lot to know how he died.” To know his brother’s death hadn’t been wasted, that he’d died a hero, saving her.

“I wish I’d listened to him,” she whispered, her full mouth wobbling, her eyes shining with tears. “I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn. You don’t know how many nights I’ve lain awake wishing so badly he hadn’t died. If I could just go back and do it over...”

He understood. The same guilt had tormented him for fifteen years. “I tried to hold my family together after my father died,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t do it. Tommy ran away no matter what I did. I keep wondering what I did wrong, if there was something I should have changed. Maybe if I’d found a different counselor, maybe if I’d quit my job... And I’d give anything to do it over, to do things differently this time.”

She rested her hand on his arm. Her luminous eyes stayed on his. “Tommy didn’t talk about his family much, but he admired you, Parker. He knew he’d let you down. I think he wanted to go back home, but he couldn’t conquer the drugs.”

Oh, hell. Parker tipped back his head and closed his eyes, emotions piling up on him, the horrible grief he’d harbored threatening to break free. If only he could go back. If only he could see his little brother one more time. If only he could convince him that he wasn’t a failure, that everything would be all right.

A huge lump blocked his throat. He pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling against the crushing remorse. Then he heaved out a breath and looked at Brynn, the compassion in her eyes swamping his heart.

And once again that connection shimmered between them, the awareness that she understood. That she cared. And something around his heart unwound, his self-blame easing up a notch.

The sympathy in her eyes held him captive. A tumult of emotions gripped his heart. Gratitude that she was here. Sorrow for what she’d endured. Regrets that he couldn’t redo the past.

And he realized something else. His feelings for her had gone beyond admiration for her considerable talent, beyond attraction to a beautiful woman, beyond respect for what she’d endured. They’d morphed into something at once primitive and complex.

He stroked the curve of her throat, her slight pulse pattering against his palm. He drew in a breath, filling his senses with her calming scent. He’d never expected her to be like this. He’d never dreamed that the girl whose photo he’d carried in his pocket could touch his heart. He never expected to feel this bond, this rapport, this heat.

He knew he should resist her. He knew she was keeping secrets. He shouldn’t get involved with a potential suspect until he was sure of what was going on. And he had a duty to follow the rules, an obligation to bring her in and let her stepfather handle this. But memories of that kiss muddled his brain, beating down his resistance. And he’d be damned if he could walk away.

Their eyes remained locked. His heart stuttered through several beats. And the need to possess her drummed through him with primal urgency, demolishing his restraint.

She dropped her gaze to his mouth, making his belly clench. He slowly stalked around her, backing her against the sink.

“This is still a bad idea,” she whispered, the raw hunger in her voice thickening his blood.

“I know.” His voice came out low and rough. “But damned if I can make myself care.” He skimmed his hands down her arms and hips to the base of her slender spine. Then he moved in close, his blood rocketing through his veins.

Her breasts grazed his chest. The heady scent of her filled his lungs. Her lips parted in invitation, and everything male inside him took charge.

“Parker,” she said, but whether it was a protest or a plea, he couldn’t tell.

He lifted his hand and bracketed her jaw. The memory of her taste flooded through him, deleting his thoughts. He traced the contour of her lips with his thumb, the seductive curve of her pale throat. Damn, but he wanted her. He wanted to feel her naked skin, to plunder her tempting mouth, to delve so deeply inside her that they both lost the capacity to think.

Unable to resist, he dipped his head. He waited one last heartbeat, giving her time to come to her senses and move away. But her eyes fluttered closed. Her hands clutched his arms. And instead of acting sanely, she pulled him closer still.

His lips met hers, the sweet, downy feel of her inciting a riot of need in his blood. Her mouth was warm, tender, soft. Endlessly intriguing. A mouth he could spend forever exploring. He shivered hard, his body and soul blazing to life.

And it wasn’t nearly enough. He took the kiss even deeper, giving rein to his burgeoning need. He rocked his hips against her, desperate to feel her softness cradle his rigid length. She gasped against his mouth.

Knowing he was moving too quickly, that he was teetering on the edge of losing control, he broke the kiss with effort, then pulled her head to his neck. His breath came in uneven rasps. His body tightened and throbbed.

But beyond the hunger was something more—tenderness, protectiveness, the need to keep her safe. This thing between them had gone beyond wanting to find Tommy’s killer, beyond wanting to find the truth. It had changed into something far more complicated, feelings he didn’t understand.

Making a final grasp at sanity, he reminded himself that this wasn’t wise. He had no proof that she was a victim, no proof that Tommy had died the way she’d said. For all he knew, she’d fed him a pack of lies.

And he hadn’t been forthright with her. When she found out he worked for her stepfather, she would detest him. If he had any sense of decency, he’d tell her the truth right now.

Lowering his hands to her hips, he eased away, giving them some badly needed room. “Listen, Brynn...”

She lifted her gaze to his. And the sudden wariness filling her eyes—as if she expected him to reject her—stopped him cold.

He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t put that hurt and disillusionment back into her eyes. Instead, he wanted to prove that he wouldn’t betray her, that he was a man she could depend on, that he deserved her loyalty.

“I want you so damned much,” he said instead—because it was true.

Stepping forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Then she dragged his head down to hers. He had one final thought, that maybe this was how his father had begun his downward slide, one mistake compounding another until he’d reached his doom.

But for once in his life, he didn’t care.

* * *

Brynn sank into the kiss, the glorious feel of Parker’s mouth on hers making it impossible to think. His kiss was hot, insistent, arousing, his stark urgency igniting hers, eroding any vestiges of her self-control.

She knew she should resist him. He’s a cop. The warning flitted through her mind, then disappeared like dust in a swirling wind. The hard feel of him thrilled her. His rough, whiskered jaw, his iron muscles flexing under her hands, the magic of his mouth on hers made everything inside her go wild.

She ran her hands through his thick, short hair, over the tendons bunching his neck. He growled deep in his throat, the feral sound torching something primitive inside her, making her want to climb right into his skin.

She’d never expected this frantic hunger. This overwhelming desire to breathe him in. The longing to take refuge in his strong arms, to let him battle the world on her behalf. To trust.

He slid his hand under her shirt and up her back, the warm, calloused feel of his skin sending frissons of excitement dancing along her nerves. Then he cupped her breast, and she gasped, her heart kicking like mad, her nipples pebbling into tight little peaks of need.

The hunger was relentless, insistent, insane. She had a gang hunting her down. Her stepfather wanted her dead. And Parker was a cop, dedicated to his badge.

But logic no longer mattered. Pleasure and instinct took charge. Everything inside her narrowed to her overwhelming hunger for this man.

She wanted to forget the past, forget the danger and fear. Forget the repercussions she’d suffer when reality came roaring back. She wanted to lose herself in the oblivion he offered, just glory in the moment and live.

He ended the kiss, and a moan escaped her throat. Then he rained kisses along her neck, the erotic rasp of his whiskers sending shivers cascading like fireworks over her skin. She ran her hands over his shoulders and back, thrilling at the shudders racking his taut body, his intensity inflaming hers.

Then suddenly, he hauled her into his arms. She gasped, then locked her legs around his waist, admiring his impressive power as he strode with her down the hall. He kicked open the door to his bedroom, and after a few short strides, deposited her on the king-size bed. He followed her down to the mattress, settling his weight over her.

But then he stopped. Propping himself up on his forearms, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “Are you okay with this?” he asked, his voice husky.

Does he know about the abuse? The sudden worry skittered through her, but she brushed her concerns aside. How could he possibly know about that?

“More than okay,” she answered truthfully, running her hands down his arms and back. It had taken years of therapy and hard work, but she’d finally freed herself from the sordid past.

And she’d never been more glad.

His lips grazed her neck. She let out a breathy sigh. She needed to feel his hands stroking her body, his naked skin on hers. He slid his hands beneath her shirt, and she arched with pleasure. His wicked mouth was driving her beyond control. Unable to stand the torture, she squirmed and thrashed against him, suddenly desperate for more.

As if reading her mind, he rose to his knees, ripped off his T-shirt one-handed and tossed it aside. “I need to see you,” he said, the roughness of his voice causing an answering spasm of heat in her blood. She peeled off her jeans and shirt, then flung her underwear onto the pile while Parker grabbed protection from the bedside table and made short work of his remaining clothes.

She paused, admiring his magnificent body, his beautifully roped tendons and sculpted muscles drying her throat. But it was his absolute focus on her, the stark hunger blazing in his eyes that threatened to do her in.

“You’re beautiful,” he growled. He moved over her again, his masterful mouth devouring hers. Then he kissed his way down her body, worshipping her, arousing every inch of her, drowning her in sensations so intense she wanted to sob.

She fisted her hands in his hair, lost to sensations. She tried to hurry him up, her frustration unbearable, and he chuckled against her skin.

Then his humor abruptly ended. He spread her legs with his knees and bracketed her face with his hands, his eyes fixed on hers. And suddenly she had the oddest sensation, as if he could see straight through to her soul.

As if he saw her.

The world fell away. She stayed trapped in his heated gaze, a riot of emotions thickening her throat. Because beyond the rampaging hunger, beyond the need erupting like a wildfire between them, was something else. Something deeper. A sense of connection. A feeling that she’d finally found a man she could depend on. A man who would guard and protect her. A man she could trust with her heart—a thought that both thrilled and terrified her.

Then his body drove into hers, the pleasure so exquisite that she cried out. And then she stopped thinking altogether, giving herself over completely, and surrendered to the shocking bliss.