Page 31

T he hum of Clara’s breathing whispered across Holden’s arm. Damn, she was soft. Her back was pressed to his front while one of his arms lay over her waist and the other under her cheek.

Perfect. She was perfect. And last night, he could have lost her. Hell, even before that, he’d lost her by being an idiot. What would happen when she woke up? Would she put that distance between them again? Distance that was his own doing?

He tightened his arm around her as if that could somehow keep her in his life.

When her breathing shifted from long, slow breaths to shorter ones, his muscles tensed.

What’s the plan, Clara?

Long seconds passed where she was completely still.

Instinctively, he stroked his thumb against her stomach.

She sighed. “You’re awake.”

Gently, so gently it was barely a graze, he lowered his head and kissed her neck. “I am.”

Her breathing shifted, moving faster now. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you there for hours.”

“You’ve been awake for hours?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t get back to sleep, but I didn’t want to leave you.”

She rolled onto her back. The pink of her cheeks, the red of her lips—all of her was damn breathtaking.

“Holden…we can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Kiss…say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes the distance between us even harder.”

“I don’t want distance.” He lowered his head again, but she touched her fingers to his lips.

“You did .”

“I messed up.” So fucking badly.

“I don’t know how to trust that you won’t run again.”

He gently took her wrist and kissed the inside of it. She gasped softly, and when she didn’t pull away, he kissed her jaw, then her cheek, before whispering, “You’re the one who told me to take a chance. Now it’s your turn—take a chance on me.”

A shudder rippled through her body. “I spent so many years waiting for you.”

“I’m here.” He lifted his head to see heat in her eyes…and need.

She watched his expression carefully. Slowly, so slowly it felt like time had stopped, she slipped her hands up his chest, then curled them around his neck. They slid into his hair, and he lowered his head. And when he finally found her lips, she hummed, and he ate that sound up.

Her lips separated, and he slipped inside, tasting her.

And fuck, she tasted familiar and good and like every damn craving he’d had for the last week.

He moved on top of her, holding his weight on his elbows.

Her leg curved around his waist, and he felt all of her. Her heat. Her softness. The desperate tugs of his hair that matched the fire in his chest.

A week ago, he’d been scared to fall deeper. Now? Now he was scared to lose everything. And Clara was everything. He just hadn’t realized it until he’d lost it.

His hand was caressing her body, about to cup her breast, when she stiffened. “Holden, what’s the time?”

He didn’t know and he didn’t care. “Why?”

“I’m meeting someone at eight.”

She pushed again, but he kept her caged to the couch. “Who?”

An uncomfortable expression crossed her face. “Holden—”

“ Who , Clara?”

Her chest rose and fell. “Malcolm.”

Every muscle in his body tightened. “No.”

“Yes.”

She shoved him again, but he didn’t move an inch. “Clara…don’t be stupid.”

“I need to talk to him. My attacker was a woman. It wasn’t him. And he might know something. I need to know what he knows in case it can lead me to Scarlett’s killer.”

“That’s Jesse’s job.”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

His back teeth ground together. He didn’t want to move a muscle. But he did. And he watched Clara rise, grab her phone, and jog to her bedroom.

As she did, he pulled on his shoes.

She stepped out of her bedroom and stopped. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No. He won’t talk to me if you’re there.”

“Too damn bad.”

She moved to the door, only to stop and turn when he tried to follow her. “Holden—”

“There is no scenario, none, where you go to Malcolm’s house alone. Do you understand? It’s me, or nothing.”

Her jaw visibly clenched. “Fine. But you’re waiting outside.”

He could have laughed. He was going wherever Clara was going, whether she liked it or not.

Clara’s heart beat hard in her chest as Holden drove them to Malcolm’s house, doubt flickering in her mind.

Maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. But it wasn’t him who’d attacked her last night.

It was a woman. And there were things Malcolm hadn’t told her.

Things that might help her figure out who it was.

And yes, it wasn’t her job, but for some reason, even though she and Scarlett weren’t friends, she felt like she owed it to the other woman.

She shot a glance at Holden. He was mad. His fingers were so tight around the wheel that his knuckles were white.

“You’re not going to wait outside, are you?” she asked quietly.

“Not a chance in hell.”

She sighed as they pulled up in front of a ranch-style home.

Those nerves hit her again, but she tried to hide them as she climbed out. Holden scanned up and down the street, his hand going to the small of her back as he led her toward the door.

She knocked.

She wasn’t nervous that Malcolm would hurt her—she was almost certain he wasn’t involved. Maybe she was nervous about the information he might have.

When no one answered, she knocked again. “Malcolm?”

Another minute passed. Still nothing. She pulled out her phone and tried calling, and even though he didn’t answer, she heard the ringing inside the house.

She frowned as she looked up at Holden before trying the door.

Unlocked.

“Clara…” There was warning in Holden’s voice.

“He’s expecting me. If he’s not answering the door, something must be wrong.” She stepped inside. “Malcolm? Are you here? It’s me, Clara.”

Nothing.

Had he left? She was ten minutes later than she’d said she’d be. But his phone had rung from inside the house. No one left their phone at home when they went out.

She tried to take a step, only for Holden to grab her arm. “We’re leaving.”

“Holden—” She stopped when she saw him looking at something. She followed his gaze to the couch. “Malcolm?”

He sat there, his back toward them.

Clara took a step toward the couch, but Holden tugged her back, stopping her.

“He’s so still,” she whispered.

Holden stepped forward, and Clara followed to see Malcolm’s head tilted to the side at an odd angle, his eyes closed.

Her heart crashed against her ribs.

Holden lowered beside him and touched his pulse before cursing and pulling out his phone. “This is Holden Forbes. I need an ambulance to two forty-eight Turner Court. I’ve got a man in his thirties who’s barely breathing.”

Oh God…had he been drugged too? Who did this?

The door behind them swung open and Jesse entered.

Her brother frowned at her. “Clara?” Then he looked from Holden to Malcolm before cursing.

“Did you call him?” Clara asked Holden.

He shook his head as he rose.

Things moved quickly after that. Jesse and his deputies worked to try to help Malcolm until the paramedics arrived. Then they checked the house.

Clara just stood there, Holden by her side, feeling cold and useless, her gaze never moving from the place they’d found Malcolm.

Why him too? And how many more victims would there be?

“What are you doing here?” Jesse asked when he finally returned.

“I wanted to talk to him. I was attacked in my home last night, and I thought he could help me figure out who it was.”

“That’s my job.” Jesse rarely let his anger get the better of him, but right now, he looked right on the edge.

He was right. Of course he was. She was just so desperate for everything to end and Scarlett’s killer to be brought to justice.

“How did you know to come?”

“We came to take Malcolm in for questioning. That woman who died, Lauren? Malcolm was her masseuse client, and he was sleeping with her. A witness says she tried to break it off the day before she died, and he didn’t take it well.

He’s also been the primary caregiver for every patient who’s gotten sick.

And he didn’t have an alibi for Scarlett’s attack. ”

She swallowed. Okay, all of that made him look bad. Really bad.

A hand suddenly touched her back. A warm, calming hand. “Jesse…it’s done. Why don’t we focus on how to move forward?”

She swallowed, so incredibly glad Holden had come with her, even if she’d pushed to do this alone.

“We found a syringe beside his body,” Jesse said. “We’ll get it fingerprinted, and if the prints are his, it’s possible he realized he was going to be arrested and panicked.”

Clara frowned. “You think he did this to himself?”

“It’s a possibility. We’ll wait and see if he pulls through. If he does, we’ll question him.”

“Why would he agree to talk to me if he was going to do that?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“I’m not sure,” Jesse said, voice gentling now. “What time were you supposed to meet?”

“Eight. But I was ten minutes late.”

When Jesse was called over by his deputy, Holden’s warm hands slipped to her waist and turned her. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

But it could have mattered if she’d come alone and gotten here a couple minutes earlier. Because either Malcolm was the bad guy or the bad guy would’ve been there. Either way, she would have been in danger.

Her focus once again returned to the empty couch where they’d found Malcolm’s body. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Are we allowed to leave?”

“I don’t care. You don’t want to be here, and I don’t want you here.”

She let him lead her toward his truck, her gaze sweeping the room one last time before stepping out as she wondered yet again what the hell was going on.