going to take a shower.”
He grinned. “Want some company?”
“No,” she said, pushing him out into the hallway and
closing the door behind him. Yet, as she showered in the
luxurious bathroom, she thought back to when she and
Jack had shared a showerhead only a few days before—
right after her car had exploded. The incident had shaken
them both and they agreed that due to mounting
complications, it would be the last time they would give in
to temptation.
Yet they seemed addicted to each other.
She showered and dressed hurriedly, pul ing her stil -damp
long dark hair into a ponytail. When she descended to the
first floor, she found Jack standing next to the sliding glass
door. His back was to her, and he was on his cel phone.
“Yes, sir, I do understand what’s on the line, sir…yes, sir, I
know it’s a shit storm…yes, sir, I know this is our
jurisdiction and I don’t like the state badges here any more
than you do…yes, sir, I won’t let you down.” He
disconnected the call and rubbed his neck in fatigue.
Carlotta walked up to him and took over the impromptu
massage, kneading the muscles in the top of his shoulders
through his shirt.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” he said.
“Did you sleep last night?”
“Some.”
“Jack, you’re no good to anyone if you fall asleep behind
the wheel and kil yourself.”
“I’m fine,” he said, straightening and turning around. He
glanced over her outfit—gray miniskirt, a bone-colored
jacket and lime-green blouse—his gaze lingering on her
legs that ended in five-inch Chloe pumps. “Is your strategy
to distract the state guys with that lame excuse for a
skirt?”
She smiled. “Think it’ll work?”
He groaned. “Only if they’re not blind.”
Carlotta laughed. “Any more leads on the case?”
“As if I could discuss them with you.”
“But no more bodies?”
“No, thank God…At least none that we know of.”
“Have you found Michael Lane?”
“No. He hasn’t contacted you, has he?”
“You know I would’ve told you.”
“Right.” He glanced at his watch. “Ready to go? I’l fol ow
you to the station.”
“I’m ready, I need to set the security alarm. What did you
do with the cat?”
“I put her outside and she ran away, so maybe she’l find
her way back home.”
Carlotta nursed a stab of remorse. “I hope so. Where is the
broken glass?”
He gestured toward a utility closet. “I swept it up.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Pretty domestic of you, Jack.”
“Just trying to keep you safe. I’d hate to see you hobbled,
just in case you have to outrun our kil er.” He arched an
eyebrow. “Or Ashford.”
“Peter is being a perfect gentleman.”
“Are you sure he isn’t gay?” Jack asked. “If you were in my
house, you wouldn’t be sleeping across the hall.”
Carlotta angled her head. “Do you have a house, Jack?”
“We’re going to be late,” he said, easily changing the
subject. “Believe it or not, my job consists of more than
watching your sweet ass, as entertaining as that might
be.”
“Where’s your partner?” Carlotta asked. “Getting her
beauty sleep?”
“Marquez is with the Gibbies, going over the profile for
The Charmed Kil er.”
Carlotta harrumphed. “I thought she had decided it was
someone with the last name Wren.”
“She never suspected you.”
“Right. She only suspected that I was planting those
charms on the bodies after the fact.”
“She’s just doing her job.” Jack gave her a pointed look.
“We al are.”
“Meaning you haven’t ruled out my father as the maniac
who’s going around murdering women?”
“Personally, I think Michael Lane is a more likely suspect.”
She frowned. “I got the impression that you didn’t think it
was Michael.”
He averted his gaze. “We’re stil working out the time
line.”
“I suppose that’s better for Randolph,” she mused.
He tapped his watch. “Let’s get this over
He grinned. “Want some company?”
“No,” she said, pushing him out into the hallway and
closing the door behind him. Yet, as she showered in the
luxurious bathroom, she thought back to when she and
Jack had shared a showerhead only a few days before—
right after her car had exploded. The incident had shaken
them both and they agreed that due to mounting
complications, it would be the last time they would give in
to temptation.
Yet they seemed addicted to each other.
She showered and dressed hurriedly, pul ing her stil -damp
long dark hair into a ponytail. When she descended to the
first floor, she found Jack standing next to the sliding glass
door. His back was to her, and he was on his cel phone.
“Yes, sir, I do understand what’s on the line, sir…yes, sir, I
know it’s a shit storm…yes, sir, I know this is our
jurisdiction and I don’t like the state badges here any more
than you do…yes, sir, I won’t let you down.” He
disconnected the call and rubbed his neck in fatigue.
Carlotta walked up to him and took over the impromptu
massage, kneading the muscles in the top of his shoulders
through his shirt.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” he said.
“Did you sleep last night?”
“Some.”
“Jack, you’re no good to anyone if you fall asleep behind
the wheel and kil yourself.”
“I’m fine,” he said, straightening and turning around. He
glanced over her outfit—gray miniskirt, a bone-colored
jacket and lime-green blouse—his gaze lingering on her
legs that ended in five-inch Chloe pumps. “Is your strategy
to distract the state guys with that lame excuse for a
skirt?”
She smiled. “Think it’ll work?”
He groaned. “Only if they’re not blind.”
Carlotta laughed. “Any more leads on the case?”
“As if I could discuss them with you.”
“But no more bodies?”
“No, thank God…At least none that we know of.”
“Have you found Michael Lane?”
“No. He hasn’t contacted you, has he?”
“You know I would’ve told you.”
“Right.” He glanced at his watch. “Ready to go? I’l fol ow
you to the station.”
“I’m ready, I need to set the security alarm. What did you
do with the cat?”
“I put her outside and she ran away, so maybe she’l find
her way back home.”
Carlotta nursed a stab of remorse. “I hope so. Where is the
broken glass?”
He gestured toward a utility closet. “I swept it up.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Pretty domestic of you, Jack.”
“Just trying to keep you safe. I’d hate to see you hobbled,
just in case you have to outrun our kil er.” He arched an
eyebrow. “Or Ashford.”
“Peter is being a perfect gentleman.”
“Are you sure he isn’t gay?” Jack asked. “If you were in my
house, you wouldn’t be sleeping across the hall.”
Carlotta angled her head. “Do you have a house, Jack?”
“We’re going to be late,” he said, easily changing the
subject. “Believe it or not, my job consists of more than
watching your sweet ass, as entertaining as that might
be.”
“Where’s your partner?” Carlotta asked. “Getting her
beauty sleep?”
“Marquez is with the Gibbies, going over the profile for
The Charmed Kil er.”
Carlotta harrumphed. “I thought she had decided it was
someone with the last name Wren.”
“She never suspected you.”
“Right. She only suspected that I was planting those
charms on the bodies after the fact.”
“She’s just doing her job.” Jack gave her a pointed look.
“We al are.”
“Meaning you haven’t ruled out my father as the maniac
who’s going around murdering women?”
“Personally, I think Michael Lane is a more likely suspect.”
She frowned. “I got the impression that you didn’t think it
was Michael.”
He averted his gaze. “We’re stil working out the time
line.”
“I suppose that’s better for Randolph,” she mused.
He tapped his watch. “Let’s get this over
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