But she didn’t know if she agreed. Marlin Jones was out there. She nodded though, saying nothing, and laid her cheek against his shoulder.
Her clothes went into his closet, her shoes on the floor beside his size-twelve wing tips and gym shoes. Her underwear went in the second drawer of the dresser. And when he was kissing his way down her body, finally holding her hips, his mouth against her, she forgot everything but him and what he was making her feel. The deep, tearing pleasure roared through her and she yelled and arced upward and told him between gasping breaths, “I love you, Dillon. Just in case you didn’t hear me the first time, I’ll marry you. You’re the best.”
“Good. Don’t forget it,” he said, staring down at her, and came into her.
It was nearly morning when Savich came slowly awake, aware that something strange was happening, something that was probably better than any pesto pasta he’d ever made, better even than having won a huge bet off one of his relatives. The something strange suddenly intensified and he lurched up, gasping. She was leaning over him, her tangled hair covering his belly, her mouth on him.
All he could do was moan, clutch her hair as he moaned, and twitch and heave.
And when he kissed her mouth, she said, “If you could do that to me, surely you had to like it too. It only makes sense, doesn’t it? I’ve never done that before. Did I do it okay?”
“It was okay,” he said. “Yeah, I think just maybe it was okay. Really not bad for your first time.” She slid down his chest again. Then it was all over for him.
Ollie said, “Jimmy Maitland has a representative speaking to the media downstairs, sir. Sherlock, don’t worry, they’ll lay off, that was the deal Maitland struck with them.”
“Good,” Savich said.
“But there’s lots of gossip, lots of innuendo,” Hannah said, tapping her pen against the conference table. “Marlin Jones’s lawyer is making hay with Sherlock here being one of the murdered women’s sisters.”
“That’s true,” Savich said. “Does anyone know how the media found out about that?”
No one said a word.
“Hannah?” Savich said, looking at her.
She looked right at Lacey. “No, certainly not. But I don’t think it’s bad that the media found out what she did. It’s possible that the case against Jones could be tossed out as entrapment.” She shrugged. “You knew it was going to come out anyway. At least now there’s time to get the media through chewing on it by the time Marlin Jones is recaptured.”
She was lying, but how could he prove it? Savich smiled at her, a smile cold enough to freeze water. He said, his voice so gentle it made the hair rise on the back of Lacey’s neck, “1 wonder that it didn’t occur to the one who told the press that Sherlock wasn’t the one who made the decision? That both the Bureau and the local cops all discussed her as bait for Marlin and okayed it?”
“I bet you talked him into it,” Hannah said to Lacey. The other agents were squirming, looking off, wishing, Savich knew, that they were anywhere but seated here at the conference table.
Savich raised his hands. “All right, that’s enough. As most of you know, Sherlock is at my place. Not a word about this to anybody outside this room. Okay, we’ll have our regular status meeting tomorrow. I just wanted everyone up to speed on this debacle. Hannah, I’d like to see you in my office.”
The meeting broke up. Ollie collared Lacey. “I’ve been working through MAXINE’s protocols using a different slant with the Florida nursing home killings. Come and see where I’m at. I’d like your input. Besides, it’ll get your mind off Marlin Jones. You’re looking hunted.”
She wanted to go after Savich and Hannah. Then Hannah turned around and looked at her. Lacey changed her mind. She didn’t want to get within spitting distance of Hannah.
In Savich’s office, he waved his hand to a chair facing his desk. “Sit down, Hannah.”
She sat. He said nothing at all for a very long time, just looked at her, his head cocked to the left.