Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville 4)

The man paused and appeared to be looking at something in the window and then, glancing in Elisa’s direction, he began walking again.

DNA had been collected from Elisa’s body but it would take weeks at best to get the results. Was Elisa an unexpected diversion? Was she simply his type? And Bethany? The girl in Texas? For whatever reason, this guy liked killing smart women.

“So what the hell is it with you?” he muttered. “Why girls like that?”

“People will think you’re insane if you keep talking to yourself.” Georgia’s words were glib but the undertone drifting beneath telegraphed nervous energy.

The sound of her voice had him smiling and turning. As much as he wanted to rise and pull her to him, he kept his emotions in check. He leaned back in his chair, allowing his gaze to move over her. “I found the guy following Elisa.”

“Really?” Interest cut through the nervous edge that had sharpened her tone.

He tapped his finger on the screenshot he’d just printed. “Have a look.”

She moved close, but not so close that their bodies touched. She smelled of his favorite soap. He liked that she wore his scent.

Nodding, she rested hands on her hips. “Damn. Good hunting.”

“The needle is always there if you’re willing to toss a lot of hay.”

“So why’s he in Nashville?”

“I’ve been asking myself that question.” He could almost smell an arrest coming.

Georgia’s cell buzzed with a text and she glanced down at the display. “KC is calling.”

“More stage time.”

“Let’s hope.”

“I love to watch you sing. I get so damn hard.”

She leaned down and kissed him. “I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m onstage.”

He cupped his hand behind her head, deepening the kiss. “We’re going to have a real date. One that involves those high heels.”

“Count on it.”

* * *

Georgia was in her office when she called KC back minutes later. He picked up on the first ring. “KC, what’s going on?”

“Georgia, I’m worried about Carrie. She didn’t come in to work last night and I’ve called her cell a dozen times and she didn’t pick up.”

Worry darkened her light mood. “I thought she had a cold.”

“I’m not buying her cold story anymore. Can you go over there? I know you’re at work.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” She moved toward her desk and pulled her purse from her bottom drawer. “Call the police, and I will meet them there.”

“She was talking about leaving him,” he said.

“What?”

“After Hal came at you in the parking lot something in Carrie shifted.”

An abused spouse was at most risk when they were leaving. Abusers, sensing a loss of control, often struck out more violently than ever to regain control. “On my way. Text me her address.”

Second doubts hounded her as she drove across town to the small three-room house. Jesus, she was so afraid of showing weakness that she pushed Hal hard when he’d confronted her in the parking lot. Had she had a hand in pushing him over the edge?

Her worst fears were confirmed when she pulled up and saw three marked cars, lights flashing, and the yellow crime scene tape strung by the first responders.

She bolted out of her car and rushed up to a uniformed cop, quickly showing him her identification. “What the hell happened?”

“Looks like a murder/suicide.”

A baby’s cry cut through the chaos and she realized a uniformed officer was cradling Carrie’s baby, trying to calm her cries. “The woman who lives here works at Rudy’s bar. Her name is Carrie Jacobs.”

“That fits the name on the driver’s license I found in a purse by a suitcase. It looks like she was going to leave him.”

“Her boyfriend is Hal West.”

“That also fits. He appears to have died of a single gunshot wound to the head.”

Tears burned the back of her throat. Had she caused this?

“It’s a holy mess in there,” the officer said.

“And the baby?”

“Neighbors heard the baby crying and called 911. She was found in her crib, very upset but physically fine.”

She crossed to the young officer jostling the crying baby. She knew next to nothing about babies but figured she knew more than this rookie did. She reached out and he gladly handed her the child. She nestled it close and began to rock her body as she’d once seen her mother do with a neighbor’s child. She spoke softly to the child until she settled. “Oh, baby Sara, I am so sorry. I should have made your mommy listen to me sooner.”

“Young female is in the kitchen,” the second officer said. “She’s been beaten to death. A male is in the living room with a single gunshot in the mouth.”

Invisible fingers clenched around her heart as she thought about her birth mother, Annie, who had been beaten when she was only days old. Instinctively, she made sure the baby’s face wasn’t smothered under the blanket. She smiled at the child. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“We’ve a call into social services and are trying to track down family.”

“Okay.”

The forensic van arrived and Brad got out. As he moved to the back of the van to suit up, an unmarked black SUV arrived and Deke and Rick got out. Her brothers strode to her. Both appeared taken aback by the image of her holding an infant.

“Deke,” she said.

His face softened with concern. She could barely hold back tears as she recapped what had happened.

Georgia looked at Rick. “If you can take the baby, I’ll suit up and go inside.”

Immediately, Rick reached out for the child. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

“You’re not going inside,” Deke said. “If you knew the victim, then you need to be out here and let Brad and another tech work the scene.”

“I can put aside my feelings. I can do this.”

“No. I wouldn’t let another officer in this situation go in there and I’m not letting you go. Stand down.”

Sadness cut and sliced her. “I kept telling her to leave the guy. He’s been putting bruises on her for months.”

“You didn’t cause this, Georgia,” Deke said.

She ran a trembling hand over her head. “I pushed her too hard. Every time I saw, her I pushed. I never know when to stop pushing. I’m always pushing. Goddamn it!”

* * *

Jake closed the door behind him, rattling keys in his hand as Georgia stood in the foyer of his house. She had called him from the crime scene, shaken and so upset he could guess at the tears threatening to overtake her. He told her to come by his place and where to find the spare key. He would be right over.

Her hair was damp from a shower and she wore only a towel. She’d called him thirty minutes ago. The murder scene was processed and she needed to see him.

Slowly, she dropped her towel to the ground, moving toward him. She didn’t smile. Didn’t flirt.

Instead, she closed the gap between them, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressing her naked body against his, kissed him on the mouth. He banded his arms around her, pulling her close. Whatever emotion she couldn’t express with words, her body conveyed. The unspoken need reached out to him and connected.

His body throbbed hard against her as she reached for his jacket and slid it off his shoulders. He kissed her on the milky pale skin at the nape of her neck and savored the soft moan in the back of her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “No. Not one word. Or I’m leaving.”

He unclipped his gun and locked it in the entryway table. When he looked back at her and saw the raw yearning in her eyes he nearly lost control. God, he wanted her.

He smoothed back her damp hair spiraling in ringlets and draping over her shoulders. He kissed her shoulder and then the top of her breast. They would talk later, but right now, he wanted to be inside her so badly

he didn’t dare risk losing her to unwanted talk.