Breath Of Malice Part 11

He came down with her but braced himself over her, bearing the weight of his big body on one arm. Paige couldn't wait to see him unclothed. She tugged at his suit jacket and tie. Sam threw the jacket off, yanked off the tie, then threw the clothes on the floor. Paige's hands went to his white s.h.i.+rt. He began undoing b.u.t.tons, then, losing patience, pulled the s.h.i.+rt off over his head. All the beautifully sculpted muscles his clothing had hinted at flexed and rippled. He was hard everywhere. His skin pulled taut over his hard broad shoulders, wide chest, and bulging biceps.

She reached between them and unzipped him, freeing him. He was wonderfully, magnificently aroused. She couldn't keep from touching him. She took him in her hands and stroked him. Sam bucked in her grasp, and he groaned long and low.

"My turn," Sam said, his voice low and thick.

Paige reluctantly released him. He unzipped her cream-colored dress and snagged the hem. He drew it up over her head, then tossed it, baring her lacy bra and her barely there panties. Sam's eyes blazed. He wound his arm around her back and lifted her, undoing the back bra clasp. Then he slid her panties down and off.

The way this was going, they wouldn't last long. He would soon be inside of her. In antic.i.p.ation, Paige felt another jolt of arousal.

But as far gone as Sam obviously was, he didn't rush to the finish as she'd expected. Instead, he laid her back on the bed gently. They locked eyes and he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her so softly. Again, she felt undone by such tenderness, powerless against it. Overcome, she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him to her.

After a moment, Sam took her arms from around him. Linking their fingers, he eased her arms to the mattress.

He started at the top of her and worked his way down, kissing, licking, sucking. Her nipples had swollen before he got to them, and when he did, they beaded tight.

He continued to move down her body. He parted her gently, then licked her. Paige gasped. Her belly tightened. He moved his tongue over her again. She curled her fingers in his hair.

He went on, unhurried, gentle, and patient. She didn't know how he managed it. She could feel his every muscle tense. Could feel the heat coming off him. Paige moaned and moved beneath him, unable to keep still. She couldn't take much more.

"Sam." His name came out as a plea.

His tongue swept along her entrance, then swirled over her again, and this time as he continued to use that skillful tongue, he slid a finger inside her. Paige came off the mattress.

"Sam . . ."

He left her only long enough to get a condom from his nightstand and put it on. He settled over her, propping himself up with a hand on either side of her shoulders. He lowered his mouth to hers. She rose up to meet him.

He probed her entrance gently and began to push into her. Paige's eyes widened at the feel of him entering her, then closed at the mind-blowing sensation of him stretching her to her limits.

Hot, hard, pulsing, he began to move inside her. Paige dug her fingers into his back.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," Sam said. "You are so tight."

He blew out a harsh breath. His teeth were set. He was clearly holding himself back.

"You're not hurting me. It's been a while for me." She pushed the reason for that out of her mind and focused on Sam. Only Sam.

His gaze sharpened. She didn't want him seeing into her. She didn't want Thames to have a place in this moment, and arched up, taking Sam deeper. She wanted to drive all ability to think from him and from herself.

His erection kicked inside her, then he bit back on his teeth so hard she heard it. He began to move fast now. Fast and hard. His eyes darkened and glinted. He surged into her. Paige's o.r.g.a.s.m hit her like an explosion. Light filled her vision. She shattered.

Sam's body shook, then he found his own release as well. He went on pulsing inside her, thrusting slowly now but just as deeply, and as he moved over her still sensitive nerves, he brought on aftershocks that had Paige moaning in pleasure again.

Sam groaned once more, then went still inside her. His mouth moved to hers, and he kissed her softly and with great care.

"You are off-the-charts beautiful," he said.

She smiled against his lips. "Right back at you."

Sam laughed. "Give me a second to get rid of the condom."

Paige watched him leave the bed. She had spoken the truth when she'd said he was beautiful. The way he moved, the way he was put together, all rigid muscles that had trembled and bulged with his desire for her, and yet he still touched her with such infinite care.

As he went into the adjoining bathroom, she saw he had a tattoo on the back of his shoulder. It was a couple of lines bisected by a couple more. The tattoo was crudely rendered. It didn't look like it had been done by a professional. Maybe something Sam and a buddy or two had inked on each other as teens. When he returned and climbed into bed with her, he slid his arm around her and brought her close. She turned on her side in his arms, then reached up and touched the tattooed shoulder.

Resting her chin on his chest, she smiled up at him. "A tat? How bad boy of the head of a Bureau office."

She expected Sam to laugh. He didn't. He said nothing for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."

She couldn't resist teasing him a little. "So what's the story behind it?"

Sam's gaze shuttered. "Nothing worth telling."

Whatever the story was, it was painful to Sam, so Paige let it go. The thought of anything causing Sam pain made her want to stop that hurt, even though she couldn't ease her own wounds.

Before the dark thought could take hold, Sam turned quickly. He grasped her beneath her arms and lifted her, placing her on his chest. He kissed her as if he hadn't been deep inside her just moments ago, then nuzzled her neck. Lying on top of him, she felt him grow hard again.

"I want you again." Sam sifted his fingers through her hair. "Do I have a chance?"

His light kisses and roaming hands made her move against him. She brushed his erection. He groaned.

Paige leaned in and kissed him. "Every chance."

Afterward, Paige turned in Sam's arms. Sam brushed his thumb down her cheek. "Neither one of us got any sleep last night. Get some sleep."

"What time is it?" Before Sam could respond, Paige rose onto an elbow and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Ivy's still in school. Some sleep would be nice." Paige paused, then said softly, "Do you mind if we sleep with the television on?"

It seemed important to her. "What would you like to watch?"

"It doesn't matter. I just like hearing it."

Sam switched on the TV. Not long after, Paige fell asleep. Her hair was loose, falling around her shoulders in thick, glorious waves. Her body was as beautiful to look at as it was to touch. He held her tight against him, feeling her every breath. His protective instincts roared to awareness. He would protect those breaths with his life.

Justice, yeah, he believed in justice. He would take down Thames because it was the right thing to do. But this wasn't only about doing what was right. This wasn't about the job. Sam didn't have his usual cool resolve. He wasn't able to distance himself. Taking down Thames was personal. He'd do it for Paige. Because it was Paige. He had feelings for her, feelings that were growing deeper.

He hadn't expected that, hadn't expected to care for her and so quickly at that. He hadn't expected to take a woman who worked for him to bed. Firsts for him. It wasn't unheard of for agents to become involved and for people to develop feelings for each other in a short period of time, but it was unheard of for him. There was something about Paige that had him acting outside his norm.

Shadows darkened the skin beneath her eyes, looking like bruises. Sam brushed his thumb tenderly across her face. How long had it been since she'd had a full night's sleep? But even in sleep she wasn't at rest or at peace. A frown marred her brow. Thames dogged her in her sleep as well.

Sam eased away from her, careful not to wake her. He sat on the bed. The air conditioner kicked on, and cool air blew into the room. He covered Paige lightly with the sheet, then put on jeans. He grabbed a s.h.i.+rt from a drawer. She'd asked him about the tat. His hand bunched around the s.h.i.+rt. Of course she saw it when he took his s.h.i.+rt off. He rolled his shoulder as if he could feel the weight of the ink. No, he wasn't going back there. Dropping the s.h.i.+rt, he left the bedroom.

Downstairs, he pa.s.sed his workout room and entered his home office. Sam went to his laptop and logged on to the Bureau's databases. Todd Thames. Sam had been studying the man. He was going to find out all he could about that b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Sam clicked on a photo of Thames being led into the Manhattan courtroom. Thames was of average height and soft around the middle. Despite his tailored suit and pants with knife-edge pleats, Thames looked rumpled. His white-blond hair defied his stylish haircut and stood up in places.

The date indicated the photo had been taken at the time of his murder trial, when Thames had faced charges that could have ended with a needle in his arm, compliments of the state of New York. And in fact, he had been convicted and had received the death penalty. But in the picture, Thames was smiling, a small, smug lift to his lips as if he knew something that no one else did. Sam's hand fisted. We'll see about that, you son of a b.i.t.c.h.

Sam scanned Thames's profile. His DOB put him at thirty-eight. His parents, Joseph and Sandra Thames, were both deceased. Thames had no siblings. He'd earned a PhD from Harvard, graduating summa c.u.m laude, then worked as a professor of history, with a focus on medieval studies, at a college in upstate New York until his arrest.

There wouldn't be anything about postcards being found at the crime scenes. From what Paige had said, that was unique to her. Was the postcard found at the Lambert murder left by Thames as some kind of message for Paige, or had it blown there on a breeze? Sam didn't know, but the coincidence was impossible for him to dismiss.

The three murdered women had all been Thames's students in recent years. Each had seemingly vanished. The first body found belonged to a woman who had disappeared following a date with a cla.s.smate. The second body found had been a woman who'd disappeared after a late s.h.i.+ft at a diner where she worked. The third woman had gone missing from her car at the start of a vacation over a long weekend.

Sam pressed another few keys. Images of the three women Thames had been convicted of murdering filled Sam's screen. Sam had seen a lot in his years with the Bureau but none worse than what he was seeing now. The women's faces were untouched, but their bodies bore marks similar to those of medieval torture victims. Thames had raped them. He'd brutalized the women, and when he'd tired of that, he'd cut them up, taking his time slicing through skin down to the bone, then removing their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and genitalia.

And Thames might be targeting Paige. Sam had never wanted to take anyone down more than he wanted to take down Thames.

"Sam?" Paige called out.

Sam looked away from the screen. He'd hoped Paige would sleep longer. "In my office," he called back. "Down the hall. Last door on the right."

He turned as she entered the room. She was wearing his s.h.i.+rt, which fell to her knees. She'd rolled back the sleeves several times. Seeing her in his s.h.i.+rt warmed him inside.

He stretched out his arm, and when she came to him, he took her hand and eased her onto his lap. He cradled her nape and brought her face to his in a long, slow kiss. She returned it, then her gaze lit on his computer, where the crime scene photos shown at Thames's murder trial were prominently displayed. She s.h.i.+fted on Sam's lap. She put her arms around herself, but she didn't look away from the photos. Even with her fear that Thames was targeting her, she didn't look away. She thought of herself as a coward, but she was one of the bravest people Sam knew. And while he admired and respected her for that, it terrified him. Again, he thought of what she'd told him about considering baiting Thames. Sam broke into a sweat.

With her eyes still on the screen, Paige said, "You won't find anything new there. I've been searching for bodies fitting Thames's MO. There aren't any."

"How long have you been searching?"

"Since I was a.s.signed to the investigation. Thames may have killed more than the three women we found. If there are others, they deserve to be found." She exhaled a shaky breath. "And now that Thames's conviction has been overturned, finding other victims to make a case against him that would stick this time is my only way to be free of him."

Sam slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her face to his. "You will have your life back. I promise you." His words were not idle. It was a vow he was making. He repeated what he'd said to her earlier, his voice throbbing with the force of his conviction. "You're not alone in this anymore."

Paige pressed against him. Sam palmed the back of her head and brought her lips to his in a kiss as fierce as his vow. Paige made a soft sound in her throat, then dug her fingers into his hard biceps, kissing him back just as fiercely.

Sam wanted to go on kissing her, but he needed to make her safe. He glanced his lips off hers, then drew back slightly. "Somewhere that son of a b.i.t.c.h has made a mistake. We're going to find it."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Ivy was just getting home from school when Sam drove Paige back to the apartment.

"Hey, kiddo," Sam said to Ivy.

"Hey, Sam," Ivy said.

Sam left soon after. Paige made a quick meal for herself and Ivy, then Ivy went to do homework, and Paige went into her own room. She had told Sam all she could about Thames and the time she'd been on the run from him. What she hadn't told Sam was that her first instinct after the Lambert murder had been to take Ivy and run away again. Though where would they go? If Thames had found her here, there was no reason to think he wouldn't find her wherever she went next. The truth of that terrified her.

Sam's anger on her behalf had been tangible. He'd vowed that she would have her life back, given her his support, showed his unity. Paige hadn't expected that. They'd had s.e.x. Paige hadn't expected that, either. But what she and Sam did hadn't felt like just s.e.x. For the first time, Paige felt the difference between having s.e.x and making love.

She had never called her encounters with anyone before Sam "making love," not that she'd had many. First, she'd had college to get through, then she'd been seeking to build a career, and through all of that, she'd been raising Ivy. There hadn't been a lot of time for men. But a lack of time wasn't the only reason. She hadn't met anyone who'd inspired her to want to make room for him in her life. No one had ever made her think beyond the moment.

But Sam did.

Sam made her want more. She wanted Sam in her life, but she couldn't feel any joy over that. What she felt was heartbreak. She didn't have a life. She had an existence. She was on the run, and until she found evidence against Thames, she would remain so. She'd felt alone for so long, but being with Sam had been like coming out of the darkness and into the light. After experiencing that light, stepping back into that darkness was so much worse.

For the next two days, Sam and Paige worked from his house rather than the Bureau office, where the activists remained. Though Sam had believed her about the postcard, they had no proof to link it to Thames. Paige didn't expect forensics to find anything, and Sam couldn't focus the investigation solely on Thames.

With Harry and Dom's help, they were looking into Janet and her husband's lives. Senator Glaxton had offered his full cooperation and that of his office. They were also looking into any perceived threats to Glaxton.

So far, their efforts had come up empty. It was as if whoever had killed this woman was a ghost. No one had seen anything or heard anything, and the trail got colder with each hour that pa.s.sed.

Janet Lambert's funeral was set for that Wednesday. Sam left at noon to attend. Until they knew for sure it wasn't Thames they were after, Paige remained in the background.

She was in Sam's home office, seated across from his desk. Like the other rooms in the house, this one was large and uncluttered, furnished only with a dark wood desk, two matching chairs, and a deep leather couch that backed up to one wall.

School was now out. Paige took out her phone and called Ivy. It would be a late night for Paige. After speaking with her sister, Paige ended the call. She heard Sam's key in the lock.

Sam called out, "Paige?"

"In your office."

He joined her there, loosening the knot on the black tie that matched his suit as he walked. He kissed her, then said, "I'm going to shower."

The information on Thames from the penitentiary came in while Sam was upstairs. Paige called up one of the files on her laptop. Thames had been a loner on the outside, but that wasn't the case once he was in custody.

Paige had heard of murderers attracting groupies, and Thames had received regular correspondence and visits from women. Death-row inmates were allowed three brief noncontact visits per week, and Thames met his quota each week. It disgusted Paige. The names on the portion of the visitors list she'd read so far all belonged to women.

Sam came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. "What have you got?"

"It's the information from the penitentiary."

"Anything?"

"Thames has groupies." She showed Sam the lists. "He must think he's a player now."

Sam's mouth narrowed, and he grunted. "A player. Anyone stand out as being more zealous?"

"I haven't gotten that far."

While Paige continued to pore over the information from the penitentiary, Sam went into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. Paige had declined one, and he took his back to his desk.

Earlier, the deputy director had called Sam for an update. Senator Glaxton was exerting pressure on the Bureau to find his sister's killer and was in touch with the deputy director several times a day.

They were no closer to finding out who'd killed Janet Lambert. Paige was right. They had nothing at all. The crime scene had provided nothing. They had nothing to link the Lambert murder to Thames or anyone else.

Sam had ordered a canva.s.s of the area. He read the report. There were houses in the vicinity of the park, but no one reported having seen or heard anything unusual. They'd interviewed the Lamberts' staff. No one had noticed anything out of the ordinary with Mrs. Lambert. They'd looked at Janet Lambert's phone records and e-mail addresses to determine if she'd made or received any strange calls or e-mails. If Thames had made contact with her, Sam didn't think the man would leave a phone number, but Sam wanted to know if she'd recently started-or ended-a new relations.h.i.+p or friends.h.i.+p. They'd come up empty. It was looking like Janet Lambert's death was random, or at least it had been made to look that way. The postcard had come back clean, just like the two that Paige had received. They hadn't been able to trace where this most recent card was purchased or by whom.

Why Janet Lambert? Sam kept coming back to that. If not Thames, did they have a killer who got off on a quick kill? Possibly, but in Sam's experience, killers and serial killers didn't work that way. Rather than a.s.sume they'd come up against a new breed, Sam was going to maintain his course. He'd told Paige if they could find out why the killer had wanted the body to be found quickly, they'd have him. Sam had to answer that question.

Night fell. He rubbed his eyes, tired from staring at the same information and spinning it in his head different ways.