Read Online In Search of the Dove by REBECCA YORK - Free Book Online Page B

as the call came into the precinct. But when he glanced at the dispatcher’s sheet and saw the address and the informer’s name, he promptly forgot all thoughts of the midweek ball game and six-pack of beer he’d planned for the evening’s entertainment.
    “I want to be in on this one,” he told Pendowski at the desk.
    “Up your alley, huh?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I’ll tell car twenty-three to expect you.”
    “Thanks.”
    He was out the door in a hurry, thinking it was a lucky day when Michael Rome had gone through the rap sheets looking for unusual drug activity. He’d liked the tough DEA agent, and he’d suspected he could learn a thing or two from the man.
    When he arrived at the address Rome had given, he was surprised to see an ambulance as well as Patrol Car 23.
    With only a brief glance at the crowd of curious neighbors, he hurried up the cracked front walk.
    Inside, attendants were just lifting a sheet-covered body onto a stretcher. A white chalk outline on the floor indicated where the body had been found.
    “What happened?”
    “We’re not sure yet,” the patrolman answered. “The guy was handcuffed to the water pipe. But he wasn’t going anywhere. He was dead when we arrived.”
    Devine cursed.
    “There was some evidence of a fight. But unless he died from internal injuries, I don’t think that’s what killed him. There was a fresh needle mark on his arm. Maybe it was a drug overdose, but with both his hands cuffed, I don’t think he gave it to himself. We’re going to have to wait for an autopsy report.”
    Devine looked around the scene of the homicide. Michael Rome had been sure this guy would have some information. He was going to be disappointed when he called in.
    * * *
    J ESSICA COULD FEEL the warmth of the sun caressing her face, and for a few seconds she simply enjoyed the drowsy lethargy between sleep and alertness. She didn’t want to wake up. As consciousness seeped back into her mind, she knew why.
    Turning her head, she looked at the white pillow beside her own. It still bore the indentation of a head. So last night hadn’t been a wild dream as she’d been hoping.
    Images and sensations came rushing back to her, bringing a red tint to her cheeks. God, what a fool she’d made of herself.
    Sitting up, she covered her face with her hands as if that would block out the graphic pictures in her mind. Her body ached from the night’s activities.
    After she’d begged Michael Rome to make love to her, she’d thought she was going to be all right. But she’d awakened one more time before dawn, caught by the demon that was possessing her body. Michael had been there again for her. Though she’d felt his arousal, he’d done no more than given her release with his hands and lips. Afterward, when she’d finally broken down and cried, he’d rocked her and whispered reassurances until she’d fallen back to sleep.
    Now she could hear water running in the bathroom and could smell the aroma of strong New Orleans chicory-laced coffee. So he was still here—apparently waiting for her to reappear. How was she going to face him? she wondered, pressing her palms against her eyelids.
    When she heard him move down the hall again, she grabbed a robe and scurried into the bathroom. A long hot shower washed away some of her body’s aches and postponed the moment of truth. But finally there was nothing she could do besides slip into a cotton shift and march forth to meet her own dragon.
    As she entered the kitchen, he was sitting at the table, his large hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. He was dressed in his jeans but had borrowed a clean T-shirt from Aubrey’s dresser. It was a size too small and emphasized the strength of his chest and arms. There was something about his posture that suggested brooding frustration. Sensing her presence, he looked up, his gray eyes unfathomable.
    Michael’s gaze swept over the woman he’d held in his arms last night. He’d told himself that there