Cherry Bomb

But it didn’t end with one. After the first, his fingers came into play, and he coaxed another orgasm out of me, and by that time I was pleading with him to enter me, promising him nonsensical things, begging to the point where I was near hysterical, and then he did.

Holy Mary mother of God.

Half an hour later, arms and legs tangled up, sweaty and glowing and wonderfully sore, I realized I could get really used to living in the now. For a guy dying of cancer, Phin’s refractory period was impressive. We’d done it twice, and might have gone for thirds when my cell phone rang.

Harry.

“I should get this,” I told Phin, pulling away.

His hand stayed on my ass, his finger making lazy circles. I slapped it away. I didn’t want to talk to Harry McGlade while in any stage of arousal.

“Morning, Jackie. I found the first phone. Guess where it was? Go on. Guess.”

“I have no idea, Harry. A supermarket.” Postcoital glow left me a little scattershot.

“A supermarket? Why would she hide the phone in a supermarket?”

“You said guess, I guessed.”

“You sound fu

“Where was the goddamn phone, McGlade?”

“It was a supermarket. She plugged it into one of the outlets behind the fresh produce. According to the SIM, the second phone is in Gurnee. I’m on my way now.”

“We should meet you,” I said. “We still need the rifles.”

While fleeing from the Feebies, we’d left our long guns in the RV.

“I should be there in about an hour. And I’ve got someone for you to meet.”

There was a screech in the background.

“What was that?”

“That’s who I’m talking about. I’ve recruited some extra help on the case.”

Another screech. It sounded like a parrot.

“Did you buy a parrot? You had that Baretta fetish when we were partners.”

“That was Columbo, not Baretta. I liked him for his trenchcoat. And Slappy is not a parrot.”

“Slappy?”

“You’ll meet him soon. I’ll call when I’m close. And make sure Phin wears a rubber.”

He hung up. I turned to Phin, wondering if I could make him beg like he had made me, but he was unfortunately putting on his jeans.

“Starving. I’ll pick up some food. You want coffee and donuts?”

“I’m a cop. Of course I want coffee and donuts. There’s money in my purse.”

I trusted him, I reminded myself. As he fished out a wad of bills, I reminded myself of it again.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.” I gri

He left, and my grin became a crushing feeling of despair. What was up with that?

I didn’t regret the sex. The sex was great. I needed it. Phin was a fun partner, and lived up to the fantasies about him I’d never admitted to myself I had.

Latham? Of course I still missed Latham. Of course I still blamed myself for his death. But I wasn’t being disloyal, wasn’t cheating.

Alex wasn’t on my mind at that exact moment-we couldn’t do anything until she contacted us again anyway-so she wasn’t the cause of my emotional pain.

It was the pregnancy test. That’s why I wanted to weep.

I touched my belly, letting the tears come, feeling so interminably alone.

CHAPTER 32

ALAN ISN’T A BAD-LOOKING GUY. Not as muscular as Lance, but wiry and well proportioned, and easier to lift onto the bed. He’s dirty blond, and has a few days’ growth of beard that is salted with gray. Alex let him keep his underwear on for the time being; she has some questions to ask before they get to the fun stuff.

“Stay still and keep quiet, or I’ll juice you again,” she warns. “Just one more leg to secure.”

Alan stays still. He seems more dazed than scared. A combination of stun gun zaps and slaps to the side of the head make for a pretty disorienting cocktail. She tapes his ankle to the last foot of the bed, then gives the bottom of his foot a little tickle.

In the bathroom, she pours half a glass of water. On the marble sink top she crushes one of the egg-shaped tadalafil tablets she took from the coffee shop Lothario under her thumb, then scoops the powder into the water and stirs with her finger until it mostly dissolves. She brings the water back to Alan and holds up his head while he drinks.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alan swallows. He has a large Adam’s apple, which Alex finds sexy.

“You’re Alexandra Kork. You’re a serial killer. You escaped from a maximum security prison.”

“So Jack has mentioned me.”

Alan shakes his head. “Heard about you on CNN. Jack and I don’t talk.”

Alex runs her hand across his chest, squeezing his pecs.

“You must talk sometimes. Because here you are, hiding out in a hotel. Hiding from me.”

Alan’s face creases, what Alex takes to be his serious look.

“Jack and I are over. We’re divorced. We’re not even friends. Hurting me won’t hurt her.”

Half a smile forms on her face. “Oh, I think it will. But we have time for that later. First I want to show you something.”

Alex collects the AED from the floor. She brought it in from the Hyundai. It’s the size of a laptop computer, in a rugged plastic clamshell case, bright yellow with a red and white medical cross on it. Alex places the device on the bed, opens it up.

“Originally, I was going to do something creative to you with plastic explosives. But I’m going to use this instead. It’s an automatic external defibrillator. Just like on all those TV doctor shows. I put the pads on your chest like this-”

Alex places one high up to the right of his sternum, and one low down on his left side.

“-and press this big red button, and it delivers a nice thousand-volt shock across your heart, resetting its normal electrical rhythm. But if I stick the pads here-”

She removes the protective backings, exposing the adhesive, and places both pads on the left side of his heart.

“-then it will induce a fatal arrhythmia, or stop the heart altogether, or fry your organs. Or it might just hurt like hell. I’ve never done this before, so it’s all theory.”

Alex fingers the button, stroking it sensually while Alan’s eyes get wide.

“What do you want?” Alan finally asks.

“Tell me about your first time. With Jack.”

“You want to know about the first time we had sex?”

Alex nods.

“That’s sick.”

“I’m a psychopath, remember? If you don’t want to talk about it, we can play press the button instead.”

She gives the AED a soft caress. Alan’s mouth becomes a tight, thin line.

“It was in a bar. In the men’s bathroom.”

“How many dates?”

“Second date.”

“Second date? Jack moves pretty fast. So what made her drag you into the bathroom? Were you kissing first? Having some chicken wings, feeling each other up under the table?”

“We were standing at the bar, drinking beer, and she dared me to go into the bathroom with her.”

Alex unbuttons her uniform shirt. The bra underneath is black, lacy, tight. True to male form, Alan stares at her tits.

“What did she do to you in the bathroom, Alan?”

“We kissed, then she put my hands up her shirt.”

“Like this?”

Alex brings her hand up her stomach, fingers going up under the underwire of the bra. Alan still looks ner vous, but the initial repulsion on his face is replaced by fascination, perhaps even interest. Her other hand unbuttons her pants and unzips the fly, letting the pants fall around her ankles.

“Keep going, Alan. What happened next?”

“We got into a stall. She…she put her hand on me.”

Alex steps out of the slacks and sits on the bed next to him. She traces a lazy finger down Alan’s chest, slipping it under the waistband of his underwear. It’s too early for the tadalafil to be working, but it doesn’t look like Alan needed it after all.

“Jack sounds aggressive. You like aggressive women, don’t you Alan?”