though.”
“Mmm?”
“You, in my bed.” He deftly unfastened her bra, and her breasts nestled into his cupped hands. She moved her hips against him slowly, feeling his erection pressing against her buttocks, and was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath.
“I want you.” His words came in a hot rush.
She turned in his arms and slowly, thoroughly, kissed him. Thoughts faded, shoved aside by past images of their love-making and the tingling eagerness of her body. He pulled her shirt and bra up over her head and walked her backward until her legs bumped the bed. Somehow her jeans were at her ankles. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the jeans, and out of her panties. In moments his clothes, too, littered the floor.
His eyes drank in her nakedness and came to rest on her face. “I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Leo said.
He wanted her in spite of the twenty extra pounds loitering on her hips, stretch marks left over from childbirth, and an ass that hadn’t qualified as trim and tight in a long time. She was still desirable in his view. A surge of desire spread up through her like lava rising from a volcano. She wasn’t just hot, she was incandescent.
“Less talk, more action,” PJ whispered. Her stroking hand drew a moan from him.
A cellphone’s distinctive ring invaded the bedroom. “Your pants are ringing,” she said. Just then another phone rang.
“Your pants are ringing, too,” Leo said. His hand slid between her legs, his fingers finding the knob that sent ripples of pleasure through her. “Don’t answer.”
The phones continued to buzz their urgency.
“Aw, fuck,” Leo said. He reached down to the floor, pulled the phone from his pants pocket, and flipped it open.
“ What? ” he said. His voice still had the throaty sound of passion, but his angry tone was unmistakable.
PJ sighed, dug around in her jeans, and answered her phone.
Chapter 14
S CHULTZ SAT DOWN HEAVILY on the edge of his bed and stuck his legs into his pants. Another body had been found. Couldn’t the schmuck who discovered the body have been considerate enough to wait another hour or three?
Why are we getting this call, anyway? We’re not busy enough?
Out of the corner of his eye he could see PJ buttoning her blouse and putting on her shoes. Her phone call had been from her boss, Howard Wall, who could maybe be forgiven for the timing of his call, because he didn’t know where PJ and Schultz had snuck off to, or that they’d done their sneaking together. His had been from Anita, calling from her car. Anita probably did know, because women talked about those things even when they swore they didn’t, and she called anyway.
Fuckus interruptus. Latin for “a cop’s life.”
They drove together, in his car. Because he was pissed off, Schultz went slow enough to earn him several horn honks from people behind him. He also took the time to stop in a post office and mail a letter containing a check he’d written for one hundred ten dollars to Ernestine Bradlock. It was better than facing her in person again.
The victim’s house was in the Bevo neighborhood, near the railroad tracks. There were two black-and-whites parked out front and the scene was already secured. A small group of neighbors, some wearing nightclothes even though it wasn’t late in the evening, gathered behind the tape. He’d seen that look on their faces many times before. They were trying not to show how eager they were to see someone else’s fatal misfortune. The ultimate reality show.
Schultz was the first detective to arrive. Dave was in Chicago tracking down the disappointed clients that were supposed to meet with Arlan Merrett. Anita was on her way to talk with May Simmons. It would be interesting to see what the woman had to say about the Merrett marriage and the fact that her husband had been arrested for murder.
After showing identification to the officer controlling access, Schultz and PJ plucked disposable slippers
“Mmm?”
“You, in my bed.” He deftly unfastened her bra, and her breasts nestled into his cupped hands. She moved her hips against him slowly, feeling his erection pressing against her buttocks, and was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath.
“I want you.” His words came in a hot rush.
She turned in his arms and slowly, thoroughly, kissed him. Thoughts faded, shoved aside by past images of their love-making and the tingling eagerness of her body. He pulled her shirt and bra up over her head and walked her backward until her legs bumped the bed. Somehow her jeans were at her ankles. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of the jeans, and out of her panties. In moments his clothes, too, littered the floor.
His eyes drank in her nakedness and came to rest on her face. “I’m the luckiest man in the world,” Leo said.
He wanted her in spite of the twenty extra pounds loitering on her hips, stretch marks left over from childbirth, and an ass that hadn’t qualified as trim and tight in a long time. She was still desirable in his view. A surge of desire spread up through her like lava rising from a volcano. She wasn’t just hot, she was incandescent.
“Less talk, more action,” PJ whispered. Her stroking hand drew a moan from him.
A cellphone’s distinctive ring invaded the bedroom. “Your pants are ringing,” she said. Just then another phone rang.
“Your pants are ringing, too,” Leo said. His hand slid between her legs, his fingers finding the knob that sent ripples of pleasure through her. “Don’t answer.”
The phones continued to buzz their urgency.
“Aw, fuck,” Leo said. He reached down to the floor, pulled the phone from his pants pocket, and flipped it open.
“ What? ” he said. His voice still had the throaty sound of passion, but his angry tone was unmistakable.
PJ sighed, dug around in her jeans, and answered her phone.
Chapter 14
S CHULTZ SAT DOWN HEAVILY on the edge of his bed and stuck his legs into his pants. Another body had been found. Couldn’t the schmuck who discovered the body have been considerate enough to wait another hour or three?
Why are we getting this call, anyway? We’re not busy enough?
Out of the corner of his eye he could see PJ buttoning her blouse and putting on her shoes. Her phone call had been from her boss, Howard Wall, who could maybe be forgiven for the timing of his call, because he didn’t know where PJ and Schultz had snuck off to, or that they’d done their sneaking together. His had been from Anita, calling from her car. Anita probably did know, because women talked about those things even when they swore they didn’t, and she called anyway.
Fuckus interruptus. Latin for “a cop’s life.”
They drove together, in his car. Because he was pissed off, Schultz went slow enough to earn him several horn honks from people behind him. He also took the time to stop in a post office and mail a letter containing a check he’d written for one hundred ten dollars to Ernestine Bradlock. It was better than facing her in person again.
The victim’s house was in the Bevo neighborhood, near the railroad tracks. There were two black-and-whites parked out front and the scene was already secured. A small group of neighbors, some wearing nightclothes even though it wasn’t late in the evening, gathered behind the tape. He’d seen that look on their faces many times before. They were trying not to show how eager they were to see someone else’s fatal misfortune. The ultimate reality show.
Schultz was the first detective to arrive. Dave was in Chicago tracking down the disappointed clients that were supposed to meet with Arlan Merrett. Anita was on her way to talk with May Simmons. It would be interesting to see what the woman had to say about the Merrett marriage and the fact that her husband had been arrested for murder.
After showing identification to the officer controlling access, Schultz and PJ plucked disposable slippers
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