So he’d prudently returned to his car, added his newest trophy to the velvet bag, and zipped it back into an inside pocket of his tracksuit.

Driving away, he’d passed ambulances racing toward the scene of yet another emergency, a scene of havoc, another of his masterpieces.

He’d cruised through the city, in no particular hurry, on the hunt for new lodging.

Chapter 32

Drex took a roundabout route from the hospital. After twenty minutes of aimless driving and doubling back several times, he was convinced that they weren’t being followed.

He considered switching hotels, but that would involve a check-in process he would rather avoid. He returned them to the suite they’d occupied that afternoon and, once inside, plopped into a chair and sent Mike a text. Seconds later, his phone rang, surprising him.

“I expected something more covert than a call.”

“I’m all by my lonesome.”

“Rudkowski?”

“Went apeshit when he learned that you two had ducked out. He threatened to arrest me. I double dog dared him. I hadn’t absconded with a material witness, had I? I was keeping vigil over my friend who could have died tonight.

“Locke told him that he was being unreasonable. Talia’s hotshot surgeon came to see what all the yelling was about, told Rudkowski to pipe down or he’d have security throw him out. Rudkowski told me to tell you that you were ruined, that he would see to it, then he left with Locke and Menundez. I think both of them are solid.”

“Me too. Have you seen Gif?”

He hadn’t, but he was receiving periodic updates that Gif was holding his own.

There had been no developments in the investigation into the homicide or the assault on Gif. “They’re reviewing surveillance camera videos,” Mike said, “but they have a lot more of them to look at. Out of Rudkowski’s hearing, the detectives promised to keep us apprised. The coroner’s report on the woman killed tonight is expected in the morning. Locke said he’d shoot it to us, along with the one on Elaine Conner.”

“Jasper’s got people working overtime tonight.”

“He must be so proud,” Mike returned drolly. “Anyhow, nothing more we can do tonight except wait.”

“I feel guilty for having a bed and you don’t,” Drex said.

“I can sleep sitting up. Do most of the time anyway.”

“Let me know if there’s any change in Gif’s condition. I’ll come immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it, Mike. Any change.”

“Cross my overtaxed heart.” With that he clicked off.

Drex looked over at Talia. “Did you hear any of that?”

“I got the gist.”

“Talia.” He paused in order to give his next words heft. “Thank you.” She tipped her head inquisitively. “For pulling those strings. If you hadn’t, we might still be in the dark about Gif. I’d still be losing my mind.”

“I believe the lady at admissions thought you already had.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t send for the straitjacket squad.”

They smiled at each other. Then he leaned his head back and dug the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “God, how long has this day been?”

“Long.”

He lowered his hands from his eyes and slapped his knees as he rolled up out of the chair. “I’m going to shower, unless you want the bathroom first.”

“Go ahead.”

He trudged up the stairs, went into his bedroom, and took off his windbreaker and shoes. He unclipped his holster from his belt and considered taking the pistol into the bathroom with him so it would be within reach. But he set it on the nightstand instead. When he went into the bathroom he noticed that Talia’s bedroom door was closed.

By the time he’d undressed, the water in the shower was steaming. Flattening his hands on the wall above the taps and standing directly beneath the spray, he let it pound so hard against the back of his head and neck that it stung.

Then he was shocked into awareness of a softer, gentler touch between his shoulder blades. His head snapped up.

“No, stay as you were.” Talia moved up behind him and pressed her body—all of it—against his. She rubbed her center against his ass. Her breasts sandwiched his spine.

“Oh, my God. Talia—”

“Stay as you are.”

“But I want to see you. And it feels so good.”

“To me, too.” She rested her cheek against his back. “It feels good to be needed. Allow me to do this for you. Okay?”

He answered by saying nothing and staying as he was. She backed away only far enough to reach for something. It must have been the bottle of shower gel, because her hands were soapy when she applied them to the back of his neck.

Starting at the base and working up, she kneaded out the achiness, then slid her fingers into his hair and massaged his head. On their way back down, they gently pinched the tops of his ears and earlobes, then moved across his shoulders, squeezing the tension out of them.

He sighed a long, drawn out ah. “That felt great. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I turn around now?”

“No.”

“When?”

“When I’m done.”

“When will that be?”

“When I say when.”

She got a refill of gel, then pressed her hands firmly against his back on either side of his spine, rubbing circles into his lats, working her way down until her hands were on his butt, creating deep depressions in his glutes with her fingers.

“Your muscles are tight,” she said. “Relax.”

“Relax? Are you serious? I’m dying here.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t think so.”

Her thumbs became twin pressure points on the small of his back. They rode the bumpy path of his vertebrae all the way down to the cleft of his ass, then teased it with feather-light brushes that caused his breath to hitch.

“Damn, Talia. Now?”

“Not yet.”

Again she withdrew to get more gel. The bottle must be near empty by now, he thought. Then all thought ceased as her arms came around him, and she covered his pecs with her hands.

“I like the hair,” she whispered, tweaking it.

“Yeah?”

“Um-huh. Just the right amount.”

After her thumbs glanced his nipples, her hands took a sinuous, crisscrossing, slippery course down his torso, over ribs and abdomen, past his navel, until her fingers slid down the channels above his thighs where they met at the base of his cock.

Christ. He didn’t want to beg.

He didn’t have to. Her hands took turns forming silky fists around him, one massaging upward and moving off, only to be outdone by its alternate that followed just behind. When he didn’t think he could withstand any more, one hand didn’t slide off at the tip. It stayed. Fingers dripping lather made teasing rotations around the crest, over it, again, as though testing its tautness, and then something wicked was done to the slit.

Through clenched teeth, he strangled out, “When.”

He turned around and hauled her against him. He tried to pause and register all the incredible sensations that holding her wet and naked against him induced, but his brain was functioning on a more primitive tier.