Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(76)

“Nolan . . . that’s so good. Oh, my God.”

He moved faster, harder, and she felt his muscles bunching under her hands.

“Babe, come on.”

She opened her eyes, and the look on his face as he struggled for control magnified everything she was feeling. She clutched him against her and shattered. He gripped her leg and gave a powerful thrust that smacked the headboard against the wall as he came, too.

He collapsed on top of her, and she lay flattened beneath him, limp and sated. She couldn’t breathe, though, and she was about to mention it when he rolled onto his back.

“Holy shit.” He looked at her, his eyes wary. “Are you okay?”

Instead of answering, she scooted against him and rested her head on his damp chest.

“Sara?”

She sighed and fell asleep.

? ? ?

The lobby of APD headquarters was busy with plainclothes cops, uniforms, and a good number of desperate-looking people here either for questioning or to bail someone out. Talia walked to the directory on the wall and scanned the list of departments.

“Talia?”

She turned around to see Dax Harper standing behind her. He wore a black Spurs jersey and ripped jeans, and his hair was sticking up like he’d just crawled out of bed. His badge dangled from a lanyard around his neck.

“You’re a hard man to get hold of,” she said.

“I meant to call you.”

She crossed her arms and stared up at him.

“I’ve been busy all day,” he added.

“Well, hey, if you’re not busy now, how about I catch you up on a few things about your case?”

Dax shook his head, smiling slightly. “I knew you’d bust my chops when I didn’t call you back.”

“I’m not busting anything. Let’s talk.”

He looked her over for a moment and glanced around. “This way.”

He walked to a door and tapped a code into a keypad. He held the door open and then led her down a long corridor and into a break room. It had a table and chairs, a vending machine, and an ancient-looking Mr. Coffee.

“Want anything?” he asked, taking out his wallet.

“I’m fine.”

Dax fed a bill into the machine and tapped a selection. “I was working undercover all day.”

“That explains the hair gel.”

He patted his hair self-consciously as she leaned back against the counter.

“The Grace Murray case?”

He retrieved his drink and twisted off the top. “Nah, this was something else, something top priority.”

Talia couldn’t imagine working in a department where a recent kidnapping wasn’t considered top priority. But then, she’d never worked for a big urban department.

He took a swig of his Mountain Dew.

“You know that has, like, eighty grams of sugar, right?”

“Still busting my chops.” He set the bottle on the counter beside him. “Tell me what’s up.”

“I think we’ve got a witness.”

His eyebrows tipped up.

“Chevy Tahoe, description matches up. One of our investigators spotted it leaving a local gas station. She followed him and tried to take a picture of his plate, and the driver flipped out. First he tried to lose her, and then he ran her off the road. Next morning, her vehicle was burglarized, and the camera was stolen.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“That’s a little suspicious.”

“No joke.” Talia didn’t mention that the “investigator” wasn’t exactly a police officer. Talia knew Sara Lockhart was credible, but Dax didn’t.

“I interviewed the gas-station clerk,” Talia continued. “He said this guy comes in from time to time, always pays cash. We’ve got a bilingual sketch artist lined up to do a drawing tomorrow morning. Once we have a sketch, I thought you could flash it around here, see if anyone recognizes this guy from the area where Grace Murray disappeared. We’ll show it around our area, see if anyone knows him.”

Dax didn’t say anything. He rubbed his hand over his plastered hair, seeming to think about it.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” he asked.

“Well, what do you think? You told us a white Tahoe was spotted near the bar where Grace was around the time of her abduction. You think it might be worth showing a sketch around, see if anyone got a look at the driver?”

“Yeah, and we’re a step ahead of you.” Dax checked his watch.

“How are you a step ahead of me?”

“You have some time right now?”

“Time for what?”

“Come with me.”





CHAPTER 23


It was dark when Sara opened her eyes. She glanced at the clock. Ten twenty. She lay there for a moment, disoriented, and then reality snapped back. She got up and found Nolan—jeans, no shirt—standing in the light of her open refrigerator, and she felt a pang of yearning so strong it made her breath catch.

He glanced up.

“You hungry?” she asked, tying the sash of her robe.

He looked her over, and his gaze lingered on the thin white silk.

“Starving,” he said. “Thirsty, too.”