Crossing the Line Page 14

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I have no illusions about Mark.”

  “That’s good.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Dante shifted and a restless look came into his eyes.

  “What do you want, Dante?”

  “This.” He kissed her, but Elle didn’t respond. Already her heart was sinking, certain that he was just the rebound guy. That no matter how much more she might want from him, he wasn’t able to give it.

  Let him go,

  The words echoed in her head and she felt sadness to the very center of her bones. Casual sex wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. No matter how hard you tried to keep it light, there was always that wistful element. Either guilt or shame or longing for what wasn’t ever going to belong to you.

  “Elle,” he said.

  “Yes?” She looked at him, hope—damnable hope—springing into her chest.

  “I’m sorry for not being what you want me to be.”

  Tears burned at the edges of her lids. She bit down on her lip to keep them from flowing over and tracking down her cheeks. “You’re exactly what I needed, Dante. I don’t want anything else from you than what you’ve just given me.”

  That seemed to unsettle him. His jaw tightened. Finally he spoke, “I better head home.”

  A deep disappointment wound through Elle. He wasn’t going to tell her anything important about himself. And because she’d pried, he wasn’t even going to stay the night. Part of her wanted to seduce him all over again to get him to stay, but the part of her that had grown stronger after her divorce, the part of her that knew she didn’t need a man to be happy, was going to let him get up and walk out the door.

  And when he left, when he was gone, the part of her that had secretly hoped for something more, would curl up in bed and let the tears flow.

  THIS TIME, DANTE couldn’t blame his mistake on Rapture. He had no excuse for his behavior except that Elle had muddled his mind more powerfully than any drug ever invented. He’d never intended on making love to her again, but he had.

  Last night had been just about sex, but this afternoon, they had been on the verge of something much more, and frankly, the way she made him feel—strong and secure and loved—had scared the living hell out of him.

  Dante couldn’t trust these feelings and yet he wanted her more than he wanted to breathe. He wanted to stake his claim, make her his own, but he had no right to do that. Not as long as he was lying to her, investigating her, deceiving her.

  He goosed his motorcycle, guiding it down the rain-slicked streets, headed toward the lonely, empty condo he’d rented. Headed away from her warm, loving arms.

  Jackass.

  All she’d wanted from him was a little information, for him to open up and let her in. It wouldn’t have taken much. He could have told her about a teenage crush, or shared with her a happy childhood memory, but he had no recollection of those things.

  What in the hell was the matter with him? Getting all soft inside over her, feeling sadness and regret for what could never be.

  Technically she was still a suspect.

  He was an undercover FBI agent.

  They could never mix.

  But did he believe it? Not for a minute. And that frightened him more than anything because Dante had never had any problem being suspicious of other people. Yet he wasn’t suspicious of Elle. Not anymore. Not after today.

  The minute he rolled into the garage, he whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and called Briggins.

  “She’s not involved,” he said the minute his boss answered.

  “Excuse me?” Briggins said.

  “Elle Kingston. She’s not involved in pedaling Rapture.”

  “I was about to sit down to dinner with my family. This call can’t wait until business hours?”

  “I don’t care if there’s a hundred grand of Gambezi’s money in her bank account,” Dante continued, ignoring what Briggins had said. He was too fired up to apologize for disturbing the man’s family dinner. “I’m thinking Mark Lawson planted the money in her account to throw suspicion on Elle. The woman is so trusting I bet she never changed bank accounts after the divorce.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Briggins? You still there?”

  “Are you, Dante?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You had sex with her.”

  It wasn’t a question. Somehow Briggins knew. Dante pressed a palm to the back of his neck. He wasn’t going to acknowledge it. His sex life was none of his boss’s business.

  “You’re letting your feelings for this woman ruin your judgment.”

  “I’m telling you what I know.”

  “I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We had another Rapture death reported. A UT coed on a weekend holiday in Galveston. She downed some Rapture and then took a header off the top floor of the Hotel Galvez. Blood toxicology confirmed it—she had taken Rapture. We’ve got to stop this scourge. Find me the evidence to connect Gambezi to Mark Lawson and do it fast. Otherwise we’ll just have to raid Confidential Rejuvenations and take down Lawson.”

  “And let Gambezi go free?” The thought appalled him.

  “Hey, I’ve got teenagers. My top priority is getting this drug off the streets,” Briggins said.

  “You nab that thug Gambezi, then you’ll get the drug off the streets.”

  “My hands are tied on this, Nash. The ball’s in your court. Make it happen and make it happen soon, otherwise we’re coming in after Lawson.”

  Briggins was right. It was up to him to connect Gambezi to Mark. “Yes, sir.”

  “And if your little girlfriend is involved in this, I expect you to arrest her, too.”

  “She’s not involved,” he reiterated.

  “For your sake,” Briggins said, “I hope you’re right.”

  MARK LAWSON WAS GETTING ready for a private party at a well-known Austin actor’s house. He studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. This party wasn’t only for pleasure. The actor had promised to hook him up with a Hollywood connection to distribute Rapture. If he could make this work, he could get out from under Gambezi’s dirty paws.

  And leave Dante and Elle to take the fall while he and Cassandra moved into a Beverly Hills mansion.

  He had his ex-wife and his ex-roommate right where he wanted them: tied to the end of the strings he was pulling, and neither one of them had a clue they were being manipulated. He felt like a puppet master, brilliant and powerful.

  His cell phone rang, playing his favorite tune, the Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil.” He picked the phone up from the counter, flipped it open and glanced at the caller ID.

  Blocked call.

  His heart jumped and he knew it was Furio Gambezi.

  He let it ring again. No need for the gangster to think that anxiety was pumping blood hard and fast through Mark’s veins. Finally, he answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

  “Lawson.” Gambezi’s guttural voice sent a chill up his spine.

  “Yeah?”

  “How’s the matter we discussed?”

  “Perfect. Great,” Mark replied, struggling to keep an optimistic tone in his voice.

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  He was terrified that Gambezi had got word that he was meeting with the Hollywood actor and looking to squeeze out from under the gangster’s thumb. “I assure you that the pigeon’s been targeted. Give me a couple of days and everything will be good to go.”

  “You sure?”

  “It’s covered.” In more ways than one.

  By depositing the dirty hundred grand you gave me into my ex-wife’s account, killing two birds with one stone.

  “Good, because I’ve got confirmation.”

  “Confirmation?”

  “The thing I told you? It’s true.”

  Mark frowned. Sometimes he had trouble following Gambez
i’s cryptic conversations. “Oh, you mean about the fed—”

  “Feeding our friends tonight at the steakhouse,” Gambezi finished. “I’m ordering filet mignon and you’re paying.”

  For the first time it occurred to Mark that his cell phone might actually be bugged and it wasn’t simply a case of Gambezi’s paranoia. Was the gangster correct? Were the Feds investigating Confidential Rejuvenations? Had he somehow given himself away?

  He thought of the kids who’d overdosed on Rapture, including Pete Russell’s son. Was that what had tipped off the Feds? Or could it be Gambezi himself, looking to dispose of Mark so he could get his hands on the formula for Rapture? If he had the formula, Gambezi would no longer need him.

  This was why Mark had done what he had done. Taking out extra insurance, turning the tables on Gambezi before the gangster could turn on him. Of course, it meant letting Dante and Elle take the fall, but the way Mark looked at it, better them than him.

  “We gotta get this cleaned up,” Gambezi instructed. “The sooner the better. I’m gonna send a guy over to your office on Monday with a detailed list of instructions.”

  “All right,” Mark said, thoroughly confused by Gambezi’s code. “Instructions about what?”

  “Waste disposal.”

  “Huh?” He’d never get the hang of gangster double-speak.

  “Let’s just say we’re concerned about how the trash has been piling up and you’re the new trash collector.”

  An ominous feeling spread over him and he was suddenly terrified that Gambezi had figured out what he was up to. “Sure, sure, whatever you say.”

  “And, Lawson?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You better do as my man suggests or you might find yourself being taken out with the garbage.”

  11

  ON MONDAY MORNING ELLE met Julie and Vanessa for breakfast at the hospital.

  “So did everything shake out on Saturday?” Elle asked Vanessa as she settled her tray of fruit, croissant and coffee on the table and took a seat across from her friends.

  “You haven’t heard?” Vanessa asked.

  “What?”

  “The cops say it was sabotage,” Julie added.

  “What was sabotage?” Elle was confused, her mind still on the weekend and her time with Dante.

  “Someone not only tampered with the transformer, but with our backup generator, as well.” Vanessa leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her coffee with one hand while fidgeting with the red stethoscope around her neck with the other.

  “Someone is intentionally trying to harm Confidential Rejuvenations?”

  “It sure looks that way. First the media leaks, then the laundry room fire, then the thefts and now this.” Vanessa shook her head. “Mark is really concerned. He was here almost all weekend.”

  That didn’t sound like her ex-husband.

  “But who would want to do such things?” Julie asked. “And why?”

  “Maybe the police will uncover something during their investigation of the generator sabotage.” Elle peeled her banana, but suddenly she was no longer in the mood for breakfast.

  “Let’s forget the doom and gloom,” Vanessa said. “How was your weekend, Elle?”

  “It was fine.” She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “So how’s the mystery lover?” Vanessa teased, putting extra emphasis on the last syllable of the word and dragging it out.

  “What mystery lover?” Julie asked.

  “The guy from Pete Russell’s party. He came by Elle’s house on Saturday morning.” Vanessa’s grin was wicked.

  “Did he?” asked Julie, who was always the romantic. Her eyes glowed.

  “You made love to him again, didn’t you?” Vanessa seemed to be enjoying making her squirm. “I like the way he put a smile on your face. It’s been too long since you smiled the way you were on Friday night.”

  It might not have been a natural smile, Elle thought, becoming more and more convinced that her cosmo had been spiked with some kind of drug. Ultimately, it was the only thing that explained her uncharacteristic behavior at the party.

  Feeling her cheeks flush, Elle ducked her head.

  “Omigosh,” Julie said. “You’re falling in love.”

  Elle winced. She’d lusted after Dante in more ways than one and made some foolish decisions.

  “Love?” She tried to laugh off Julie’s comment. “What makes you think I’m falling in love?”

  Julie’s bright eyes twinkled. “It’s all over you.”

  Elle took a big gulp of her latte to keep from answering. Julie was always on the lookout for romance, both for herself and for her friends.

  But love?

  Come on. Elle didn’t love Dante any more than he loved her. They shared chemistry, yes. They were attracted to each other, and he challenged her in ways no man had ever challenged her before.

  But love?

  Dante had given her delicious orgasms, but when it was over, he’d walked away without a whisper of anything more between them.

  At the same time, she was the one who’d told him that he was nothing more than a fling. How else could she have expected him to react?

  Elle stared at her coffee cup, recalling the way her arms had felt wrapped tight around his waist as they’d traveled down the rain-slick road on his motorcycle.

  “So tell me, Jules, just what does love look like?” she asked, trying not to sound sarcastic, but she was afraid she’d been unsuccessful.

  “It makes your cheeks turn red and it makes you nibble your lip like you’re in trouble and it brings a secret smile to your face when you think no one is looking.”

  “Is it possible,” Elle whispered, “to be in love and not know it?”

  Julie gave her an enigmatic look. “You’ll know the truth deep inside if you just get quiet and listen to your heart.”

  Vanessa snorted.

  “You have no faith.” Julie shook her head sadly.

  Unable to bear the conversation one minute longer, Elle finished her breakfast quickly and made her excuses to her girlfriends. She had a lot of things to do that day—staff scheduling, chart reviews and E.D. supply inventory.

  And to totally forget that she could very well be falling in love with Dante Nash.

  ON HER WAY TO HER OFFICE, Elle took a detour through the E.D. to check up on things. Then she spied Dante standing in the work lane looking regal as ever in his suit and tie. Her heart did a back flip. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her place on Saturday night.

  Their eyes met.

  How could she stop thinking about him when she’d be seeing him every single day? Seeing him and wanting him. Remembering how his body felt inside of hers.

  She stared at his lips. How she would love to have his mouth on hers again, his hands in her hair, his big body pressed into her. But he was the one who’d walked away. He was the one who’d left in the middle of the night.

  “Elle,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving her face.

  She didn’t know how to respond. Part of her wanted to fling herself in his arms and not care if anyone saw her. Another part of her, however, was loath to let him see how much he’d gotten to her, how much she cared, how scared she was to love again.

  Briskly she nodded. “Dr. Nash.”

  He blinked, pressed his lips into a straight line. “So it’s Dr. Nash now?”

  “Under the circumstances I think it’s best if we keep things totally professional,” she said, stiffening her shoulders, fighting the scary feelings battering her heart.

  “I don’t agree.”

  Her restless pulse stilled. “No?”

  “No.”

  She arched an eyebrow, clinging to her guard even as she was longing to let it down again. Oh, she was weak and foolish.

  He cleared his throat, loosened his tie. “I know there are things I need to say. Things you need to hear.”

  “I have no expectations of you.” She kept her expression neutral, but her inside
s were in turmoil.

  “Maybe not, but I have expectations of myself. This is difficult for me. I’m not good at expressing my emotions but I’m working on it. Can you give me some time? There’s something I need to settle before I can tell you what I need to tell you most.”

  She nodded, unable to speak because her throat was so clotted with emotion.

  They stood there staring at each other, neither moving.

  “Well,” she said, feeling as if she was hanging over a cliff, waiting to free fall to the bottom. “I have work to attend to.”

  “I do, as well.”

  They both started to move at once and ended up blocking each other in the doorway. She moved left at the exact moment Dante shifted in the same direction. She went right and so did he.

  She felt a flustered heat rise up her throat.

  He reached out and touched her shoulder. “You stay put, I’ll go.”

  He did just that, and as Elle watched him leave, she felt all the energy drain from her body. It took so much darn effort to control herself when she was near him. Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had noticed her odd encounter with Dante, but thankfully, there was no one else around.

  When she saw she wasn’t being observed, she darted her gaze back in Dante’s direction and watched him walk away with a sigh, a mixture of yearning and sadness mucking around inside her.

  He did have a mighty fine butt.

  Resolutely she shook off the thought and headed into her office, trying to figure out if this hold the man had on her was just lust or something else entirely.

  AFTER HIS ENCOUNTER with Elle in the E.D. Dante headed out the back exit of the hospital and followed the stone walkway over to the doctors’ building. The morning sun was warm on his face, but his heart was anything but light.

  He had thought that seeing Elle would make him feel better about the way they’d left things between them.

  It had not.

  He’d taken her to bed knowing he was going to end up hurting her. What he hadn’t counted on was how miserable he felt about it. Elle was a good woman. She deserved so much better than what he could give.