“To Captive,” the crowd said, turning and clinking glasses.
Wolfe clinked her glass and then Trentington did the same. Dana took a drink. Whoa. Delicious and definitely the good stuff. She took another drink as Wolfe did the same, sipping and looking around the gathering for any sort of clue for who’d shot Albert Nelson. Another woman in bright pink pasties collected glasses on a tray that looked like a shield.
Then the crowd started to chant Trentington’s name.
He rolled his eyes, grinned, and headed for a grand piano in the far corner. “It’s good luck to dance to our song,” he tossed over his shoulder, his eyes still unpleased.
“Then we’ll dance.” Wolfe grasped her hip and swung her around. He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “Dance with me, and I’ll maneuver us toward the doorway.”
She nodded and leaned into him, reminding herself this was a job. Her body didn’t care. Her bare thighs brushed his, and her nearly bare chest rubbed against his rock hard one. Maybe they should try to burn the edge off the attraction with just one more night. Why not? She closed her eyes and gave in to the feeling, trusting him to get them across the room.
The bodies were packed close together as Trentington started to play and sing with a surprisingly good baritone. The song was a melody with heart and humor, and she let it take her away for a brief time.
That song turned into a wilder one, and then another, and they were almost at the door. It had taken nearly half an hour, but she didn’t care. Life was good.
She leaned back and focused, surprised at the clarity of colors all around her. “Oh, Wolfe. It’s all so beautiful.”
“Yeah.” His knuckles rubbed across her cheekbone. “You’re beautiful. You glow.”
The words touched her as deeply as his gentle movements. In the back of her mind, way back, an alarm clanged. But the splendor of the newest song dug deep inside her, making her one with music and with Wolfe and with the world at large.
Life was perfect. She wanted him again. Now.
He took her hand. “Let’s get out of here. Life is beautiful.”
Yeah, it was. The warning alarm disappeared, chased away by a feeling of perfection. “I want you,” she whispered, needing him, almost frantic but not understanding why.
“You’ve got me.” He led the way through the door into the stunningly magical darkness of the night.
Chapter Fifteen
A pounding on the door awoke Wolfe, and he sat up in bed, his head spinning. “Shut the hell up,” he slurred, looking frantically around. Where was he? Where was his gun? He shook his head just as the door burst open, and Malcolm West flew through, his hands up and ready to fight.
He stopped cold, looked at Wolfe, and then glanced to the side. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
Kat tiptoed in behind him, rubbing against his ankles.
Huh? Wolfe frowned and then glanced sideways to see Dana sleepily sitting up on the bed. The covers dropped to reveal bare breasts, and she yelped, tugging up the comforter. Light bruises were visible on her biceps.
Confusion clouded her eyes and her hair was wild around her face. She’d left pink streaks on the pillow, but plenty remained in her hair. “Wh-what happened?”
A pit opened up in his gut. His jaw felt like he’d been punched several times, and the room kept spinning. He pressed his fingers against his eyes, trying to catch a thought. He was in his bed, with a naked Dana, and his body hurt. He glanced down at scratches on his arm. “What the fuck?”
Mal cleared his throat. “Sorry. You guys must’ve tied one on. I saw the weird car in the driveway, checked it out, and noticed it had been hot-wired.”
Wolfe coughed, his lungs protesting. “What car? A BMW?”
“No. Old Chevy,” Mal said, frowning. “What’s going on?”
Wolfe stretched his legs beneath the sheet, not surprised to find himself buck naked. The room smelled like sex. “We need a minute, Mal.”
“Sure.” Mal turned to go, plucking up the kitten. “We’ll be in the living room.” The door closed softly behind him, hanging haphazardly.
Wolfe wanted to puke. He sucked deep for fresh air and partially turned. “What do you remember?”
She swallowed, too pale for his liking. “Um, not much? We were at the party, found the files, and started dancing?”
Images, more like snapshots, filtered through his mind, but it was like trying to catch mist. Images of Dana over him, under him, all over him. The scent of her, her laughing, her smiling.
