“Are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”

  He paused. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s what I can tell you. We have no record of any sworn officer going into the Fontaine house earlier in the day. As you know, our first guy wasn’t there until 9:45 p.m., so, if it was one of our guys, no one is admitting to it. The guy’s face wasn’t visible from that angle with that damned hat on, which by the way, no patrol officer ever wears, so we believe he was wearing a uniform that you, I, or Joe Sixpack can buy from the same store. I think he was wearing lipstick as a disguise to throw us off.”

  “Really? I couldn’t really tell if it was a man or a woman,” Katrina said. “Do you have an idea who it is?”

  “I have my suspicions, but nothing concrete.”

  “Okay, so what does all this have to do with me?”

  “I can’t tell you everything, but isn’t that enough? We had all three Battrelles in custody, but I guess they let Vincent out earlier than planned, or he wouldn’t have been able to call you. Anyway, I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’d just as soon stay here tonight, in your apartment or out in my car. I was expecting you to have a couch, but—”

  “But what?” she asked, turning toward him so their faces were only a foot apart. Goode felt the pheromones in the air, drawing him toward her.

  “—I’m not really sure where I would crash,” he finished.

  With their noses only inches apart now, he could feel her breath and couldn’t listen to rational thought any longer. Dropping his empty cup on the balcony floor, he leaned in and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her.

  “I couldn’t wait any longer,” he whispered.

  She pressed her breasts and hips into his, compelling him to run his hands down her back. She always seemed so tough, but he could feel her emotional wall peeling away as they kissed, gently at first, then harder and longer, their breathing growing faster and louder.

  “This is not a good idea,” she whispered back.

  Goode’s mind was reeling, high on a flood of dopamine. “I know.”

  But her eyes weren’t saying “stop.” In fact, they reflected a burning, enticing hunger that fueled his desire even more. He buried his face in the warm crook of her neck and breathed in the lavender scent of her ultrasoft skin.

  I want her.

  Taking a handful of her hair, he tilted her head to the side, pulling her collar away to kiss her bare neck and shoulder. She leaned back against the railing, arching her spine and raising her breasts toward him, her hard nipples poking through her silk blouse. He wanted to unbutton it, move her bra aside and take one of those nipples into his mouth. But based on the incident with Katrina’s car and Vincent’s comment to Katrina on the phone, they both knew that her stalker, or one of Vincent’s goons, could be watching.

  Goode wasn’t typically one to seek out risky exhibitionism. He also was cognizant of the huge risk he was taking after Stone had scolded him about the Alison escapade and specifically warned him about Katrina. He could be suspended, taken off the case, or even fired for crossing that line.

  “You’re not going to accidentally sleep with her, right?” Stone’s voice echoed in his head. “Just fall into her by mistake?”

  But at that moment, Goode wasn’t really thinking clearly, with her scent and the feel of her body against his clouding his senses.

  Just a few more minutes. Then maybe I can stop.

  Luckily, Katrina made the decision for both of them.

  “Okay,” she said softly, pulling away. “You’d better get out of here before this goes too far.”

  Goode was a little disappointed, but he was also relieved. He dropped his hands from her tight, athletic hips and slowly backed away, fighting the urge to pick her up in his arms and lay her down on the sleeping bag.

  “Just so you know, this is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my whole life,” he said.

  “In your whole life?” she repeated, chuckling.

  “Yes.”

  Inside the glass doors, she kissed him one last time before taking his hand and leading him toward the front door, where she stopped and whispered in his ear. “Goodnight, Surfer Man.”

  With her left hand on the doorknob, she turned to look up at him, waiting for him to move. But he stood there, frozen, holding her other hand. Transfixed by those eyes. She seemed so intensely present and in control. She had him. And he couldn’t let go of her.

  His mind was fuzzy, and his body felt like one big, aroused nerve, buzzing with sensation. He slowly pulled her hand behind her and kissed her gently. Then harder. As her other hand fell from the knob, he took it and put it behind her as well.

  Easing her back against the wall, he leaned into her, letting go of her hands and pressing his hips into hers. Her hands fell to her sides as she rolled her head back seductively. She wrapped one of her legs around his thigh, tilting her hips tighter against him as they began to rock back and forth.

  He grabbed her around the waist with one arm, cupping her ass with his other hand, and lifted her up. She wrapped her other leg around him and her arms around his neck, holding on to him as he stepped back from the wall, balancing her weight on his hips. Kneeling on one leg at a time, he gently laid her down on the sleeping bag, just as he’d imagined.

  Taking off his jacket, he threw it on the floor and set his gun on top of it, far enough away from them that it wasn’t a hazard, but close enough to grab if he needed it.

  She looked beautiful, half of her face cast in soft light, the rest in shadow, as she watched him unbutton and pull off his shirt. He’d seen a similar expression on a few women before, but never one so fierce or so confident in her sexuality. It scared him a little. She was different. Almost like a man. Yet her eyes said she wanted him to take control. To ravage her.

  They had gone past the point of stopping now. Stone’s voice was gone. All he heard in his head was white noise.

  Kissing the warm skin of her breastbone, he made his way down to the warm crevice between the cups of her bra. He rolled her to the side to wrestle it off and reveal the breasts he’d been longing to see. They were perfect, just as he’d expected. Round, lush, and firm.

  As he leaned down and flicked his tongue on her nipple, it immediately hardened against his tongue and she moaned. It had been so long since he’d had a nipple in his mouth, he felt himself growing harder too.

  Laying against her, her warm, cushiony breasts pressing against his chest, it was like that first buzz off a martini. The heat spread through his entire torso. She moaned again as he buried his face in her neck, where he kissed her again, and back up to her lips.

  She unbuckled his pants and rubbed his stomach, slipping her hands under the waistband of his boxer briefs. As her fingers went lower, he grew more aroused. He wanted her, but he wanted all of her. He wanted this to last.

  He unzipped and pulled off her jeans, leaving her panties on. Slowly easing his hand down, he caressed her, guided by her breathing. They were both moaning together now, rhythmically and in sync, like a train. It felt so right—until they heard the sound of tires crunching on the driveway below.

  They both stopped, mid-gasp, and turned toward the noise, which was loud and distinct, because, as they both realized, they’d left the sliding glass door open.

  How stupid was that?

  Although he’d felt lightheaded before, the adrenaline shot through him like a bullet. Still on his knees, he bolted upright and cocked his head to listen. Katrina reached for her bra, fastened the hook, and quickly buttoned up her blouse.

  Putting his finger to his lips, he stood up and pulled his jeans back on. Grabbing his gun, he slunk over to the slim strip of wall at the edge of the glass doors and leaned back to peer down below, trying to stay out of view.

  Guess it’s lucky I stayed.

  From his vantage point, all he could see was that it was a black SUV of some kind—with its headlights off.

  Not a good sign.

  The car’s engine idled for a few moments and the driver’s-side window lowered an inch or two, then the motor shut off. There was no movement until Goode saw the orange end of a lit cigarette. The apartment complex, as old as it was, didn’t have any lighting in that area, so he couldn’t see the license plate, especially with the headlights off.

  Is he waiting to see if anyone comes out to ask him why he’s in a private turnaround at one in the morning? Is this the same dude who hit Katrina’s car with the rock, or is there more than one party involved here?

  The driver’s-side door slowly opened, and a cigarette butt came flying out, followed by a man’s leg and a black, rubber-soled shoe, which stomped on the butt. A moment later, the rest of the tall, stocky figure stepped out of the car, dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans, and silently pulled the door to. As the man turned around and looked up at the balcony, Goode retreated further, hoping he’d moved fast enough to avoid being spotted.

  Standing with his hands on his hips in the driveway below, the man’s body was a silhouette and his face shrouded in darkness, but Goode could see from his linebacker build that he was not the slender, fake officer from the security footage.

  By then, Katrina was standing in the hallway, her arms folded against her chest. She looked to him for some kind of silent answer, but he could only shake his head and shrug.

  The man walked a few steps toward the breezeway and the diagonal stairwell that led up to her apartment. Goode’s heart pounded as he listened for footsteps on the stairs. But he heard nothing.

  With rubber-soled shoes on, he can be quiet. I can’t tell where he is. I’m pretty sure I locked the front door and turned the deadbolt. Or did I?

  Katrina’s mouth had fallen open, as they both waited apprehensively for the man to try the door to get inside.

  I’ll just have to wait to see if this goon tries to come in, so I have the jump on him.

  Goode stepped carefully over the sleeping bag to the door and checked to make sure the deadbolt was set. Check. Then he put his ear to the wood for any sound or movement in the stairwell. Still nothing.

  A few minutes ticked by, but all Goode could hear was his own heart beating and the blood pounding in his head.

  What is he doing out there? Is he still sussing the layout? Or is he done and waiting for another goon so they can enter via the front door and the balcony simultaneously? Then there would be two of them and only one of me.

  Goode almost jumped out of his skin when, without any warning, he watched the doorknob turn and heard the door bump against the deadbolt. He’d forgotten to turn the lock on the doorknob, but the deadbolt was set.

  Goode backed up and crouched into a firing stance, aimed at the door, and braced for the dude to kick it down. He stood there, his heart racing and his face and body dripping with sweat for several minutes. But there was no more movement, just silence.

  Although his heartbeat slowed a bit, he was still not sure what to expect next. Turning to check on Katrina, he saw that she had retreated, presumably to the master bedroom.

  Has he gone, or is he still waiting for another goon? He could try to scale the building and climb onto the balcony on his own, so I should close and lock that glass door without him seeing me. The last thing I want to do is call for backup and have to explain what I’m doing here.

  Slinking around the kitchen to the narrow slice of wall where he could stay out of view, he crouched down again, pulled the sliding door shut, and locked it tight.

  A couple of minutes later, he felt a surge of relief when he heard the car door shut quietly below and the engine start up. The tires crunched again as the car made a two-point turn and headed back up the hill to the street. Goode could see now that it was an Infiniti, and he was able to get a partial plate number.

  The question is, how many of them will there be if and when they come back? They would be pretty exposed if they tried to climb the balcony in broad daylight, so it would have to be in the next hour or two while everyone is still asleep. Which is why I’m not going anywhere until sunrise.

  Goode knew it was too risky for him to wait in the apartment to find out. He’d already let his primal urges take over when he was supposed to be protecting Katrina.

  What kind of savior are you when your little head does the thinking? If this thing had gone bad, the brass would have come down hard on me, and Vincent would have had a field day. I can just see the headline now: “Half-naked cop shoots intruder in reporter’s apartment.”

  Heading to the rear of the apartment, Goode found Katrina pacing back and forth in the master bedroom.

  “Is he gone?” she whispered.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “He tried to open the front door, but thankfully I’d already locked the deadbolt.”

  “Fuck!” she whispered loudly.

  “I know,” he said. “I don’t think we need to whisper anymore.”

  The purple mood was gone, and stark reality stared back at them in the full-length mirror.

  “I’m going to go sit in my car in case he comes back, with or without reinforcements,” he said. She nodded in agreement.

  “What kind of car was it?” she asked. “Don’t tell me it was a black Town Car.”

  “It was a black Infiniti,” he said. “I got a partial plate so I’ll see if I can get any information on the driver. Why a Town Car?”

  “The Polish mafia sat outside my apartment in a black Town Car, trying to intimidate me while I was writing the series in Northampton. But I don’t know who this guy is with or what his intentions are. What do you think?”

  “I don’t really know, but I read your comments in the rock report about the ‘watch your back’ language in the note. That’s such a common phrase I didn’t attribute it to them necessarily. My gut says it’s someone local since the note mentioned your family, and this dude is somehow connected to the Fontaines’ murder.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  He gave her a quick hug because she was obviously still shaken, but she seemed just as relieved as he was that the intruder had been unable to get into her apartment. For now.

  “Don’t worry. If he comes back, I’ll call for backup. At least then I won’t be caught with my pants down,” he said, trying to make light of it.

  “Okay,” she said. “Text me if you see anything up there. I’m going to take a hot shower to see if I can calm down and get some sleep. I’m glad you’re here. Even if you’re out there.”

  “Me too,” he said.

  Chapter 49

  Goode

  Friday

  Goode had so much adrenaline in his system, it kept him sitting up and alert in the Explorer all night, jerking to attention any time he heard a car approaching or saw a headlight breaking through the night.

  Katrina texted to check on him around four o’clock.

  R u still alive out there? I’m having trouble sleeping.

  ​​Yeah, it’s all quiet. So far,​​ he wrote back. ​​Thanks for asking. Try to get some rest.​​

  He kept watch until the sun came up, then texted Katrina that he was heading home.

  All clear. I’m out. Be careful today. Watch out for suspicious linebackers and call me if you need me.

  When Artie called at seven o’clock, Goode had just sat down at his kitchen table to drink a bucket of coffee, a form of comfort as much as a necessity to get through the rest of the day.

  After a night like last night, to hell with the caffeine rationing.

  “Got the email from the lab we’ve been waiting for,” Artie said. “They ran tests based on the Vitaleron drug audit, and nothing matched. Then they noticed that one drug on the surgery log was repeatedly used in combination with others, so they tested for that, but again, nothing came up. Luckily, they checked with another couple of labs, and realized they weren’t doing the right test. Once they figured it out, they got a positive result late last night.”

  “So, what is it?” Goode asked. “I’m dying over here.”

  “Succinylcholine,” Artie said.

  “What the hell is succinylcholine?”

  “It’s a short-acting muscle relaxant that makes it easier to insert a breathing tube, but it can be fatal if a patient gets a big enough dose without a respirator or CPR.”

  “What happens if you don’t?”

  “A small dose will relax, then eventually paralyze, all your muscles, including your diaphragm. If you’re not sedated, you’ll be awake and aware of what’s going on. It takes longer to work if it goes into muscle tissue than a vein, and even longer if it goes into fatty tissue. A bigger dose can stop you from breathing, and without external respiratory support, your heart will stop beating within a few minutes. But because it metabolizes into the bloodstream even after you’re dead, it can’t be traced unless you know to look for it.”

  “How sure are you that this was the cause of death?”

  “Dr. Thompson and I agreed on this, because I did some research and found several cases where the killers used this drug and almost skated.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “By the way,” Artie said, “how are you doing after those Sun-Dispatch stories hit last night?”

  “Let’s just say we had a busy night. After seeing the security footage myself and talking to the Battrelles, it sounded like Dr. Fontaine’s nurse was involved, and what you’re telling me only confirms that.”

  Goode texted Stone to call him for the news, which he did, panting with excitement.

  “I agree. The nurse is looking even better,” Stone said. “But why would she leave so much bruising on Victoria’s arm, unless she was angry and didn’t care?”

  “Or did it on purpose to make it look like a suicide.”

  “Right. Who else had access to the surgery’s drug supply? Dr. Russell? Because right now, I don’t see a motive for him or the nurse.”