They started at it, fumbling and laughing as they removed their own and one another’s, leaving all a tangle thrown about. Then she was in his arms again and they fell backward onto the cool comfort of the sheets beneath.
Hunter found her lips again, and began methodical, searing wet movement down her body. Sensations tore at her; she cried out softly, rising against him, feeling the fine muscles in his back and shoulders, planting her kisses against him, covering his bronzed length with her fingertips and the teasing brush of her lips and tongue.
Then they were together again. And she didn’t think; she just felt. The world rocked. Yes, they needed to live. To love, to know this kind of beauty, to celebrate that life is precious.
After, they lay together, her head on his chest. “Was I...?” she began.
“What?” he asked.
“Um...oh, too brazen with you?”
He laughed. “You were nothing but beautiful with me. What brings that up? Our friend Phin?” He was suddenly serious, and he rolled over to look down at her. “Here’s the thing, Amy. Do men like him exist—in cults and in the world at large—thinking that they’re better than the ‘fragile’ sex? Totally idiotic? Yeah, sure. But you can’t ever let that change anything about you.”
“You know that there are even cops out there who are like that?” She grinned. “John Schultz is a great man, a great partner. But even he admits that he was being macho and didn’t want a female partner. Or a young one.”
“But he got to know you. And he came around.”
She shrugged. “What do you think?”
“I think I questioned your age more than your sex.”
She laughed. “Because you’re, what—five or six years older than I am?”
“And...been around a real big block.”
“And now?”
He hesitated, a smile slowly creeping into his lips.
And for a moment, she felt oddly vulnerable—more frightened inside than when she was faced with criminals with guns and knives.
She cared about him so much; she didn’t want him leaving her life. She loved working with him, loved the way his mind worked, his subtle smiles, the richness of his voice, the ripple of his muscles, the feel of him.
“Now is easy,” he said softly.
“Oh?”
“Now,” he said, “I know that you’re perfect. Just perfect.”
“Totally perfect?”
He laughed.
“For me, yes. For me, totally perfect.”
His lips touched hers.
19
Amy took Hunter’s car the following morning.
Ryan had called first thing to tell them that they’d been watching Casey Colby but hadn’t had a way to stop her when she decided she was leaving town.
It was critical that Amy find out what Casey had to give them. She would go alone, as she had promised. But Hunter would follow with Roger in the van.
She had nearly reached the little diner where she was to meet with Casey when her phone rang.
It was Hunter.
“What’s happened?” she asked. Hunter getting in touch so soon meant there must be news.
“Our dear friend Phin Harrison must have been a true believer. He’s dead.”
“Dead?”
“A pill—poison, we believe. At any rate, there was no paper trail. Even if we suspect that Morrison hired the attorney, there’s no paperwork. Ellison is working on the attorney angle. The man is legitimate, part of a major North Florida firm. And a representative from Morrison’s office claims that Morrison wasn’t in the state—he’s ‘traveling’ and unavailable for comment. Anyway, Phin Harrison is dead.”
Amy sighed. “He was a jerk, but I sure as hell didn’t want him dead!”
“Of course not. Anyway, I hope Casey has something to share. We need what she can give us. Ocala police watched her overnight and followed her north. Now she’s back in our ballpark. Ellison has been advised, though where she’s going from here, we don’t know yet.”
“Hopefully, she’ll give us something.”
“Go get ’em, tiger.”
She grinned and ended the call, pulling into the lot of the little diner. It was a charming one-story building just off the highway, freshly painted and well looked after.
She had looked it up after agreeing to meet here. Family owned. The family obviously cared for it; it made her smile. It was old Florida, and down in her area, there just wasn’t much of “old” Florida left. Maybe it was “old” anywhere, before restaurants were all chains that crept across the country and before you could be in a mall in almost any state that was just like the mall in any other state.
She parked the car.
The owner obviously had a green thumb. The place had myriad flowers growing around it that were well tended. Beautiful orchid plants were on either side of the front door. It was billed as a diner, but it had a hostess stand. An older woman greeted her and Amy told her that she was meeting a friend. The woman led her to a booth where Casey was waiting.
Casey stood and greeted her with a grateful hug.
“Thank you for coming,” Casey said.
“I’m happy to help in any way. Have you found Billie, by any chance?” Amy asked her.
“I’m so afraid for her.”
Casey slid back into her seat. Amy sat across from her. A young waiter came up. Amy smiled and asked Casey what she would like.
They both opted for pancakes and coffee. When the waiter left, Amy asked, “Casey, what do you know about Maclamara?”
“What’s Maclamara?” Casey asked.
“A town, south of Micanopy, north of Ocala.”
“I, uh, well, you know how that goes! I’ve lived in Florida my whole life and I haven’t heard of dozens of towns and cities, I guess. I mean, they’re incorporating new cities all the time because the population of the state keeps booming.”
“So, you never heard of Maclamara before?” Amy asked.
Casey shook her head.
“But your brothers are there.”
“They have an apartment in Gainesville, so they must have been just visiting. And they’re not bad guys, honest.”
Amy frowned. “So, what do you think might cause your brothers to become involved with a cult?”
“Oh, I can’t believe that they’re really involved with the cult.”