She and Sam had shared quesadillas and chips, then Sam shot off to pick up the twins and Taylor called the girls renting her cabin. The roommates wouldn’t be home for another two hours and had agreed to meet her at nine. She decided to go home, grab a shower and think. She needed to talk to Thalia Abbott about this teenage sex club. She needed to ascertain whether Todd Wolff was simply a sex fiend or if he’d gone over the edge and killed his wife and unborn son.

Friday morning she’d meet with Corinne Wolff’s therapist and find out what drove a totally healthy, strong woman into amateur pornography, psychotropic drugs and psychotherapy for panic disorders. She was fascinated by Corinne’s opposing personalities. Judas Kiss

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She needed to decide what to do about her own videos.

She was exhausted. The massage had been both a blessing and a curse. In the quiet moments between Jasmine’s questions, she’d had time to think about what she’d done with Tony Gorman. Once the adrenaline had faded from the afternoon, Taylor wasn’t exactly proud of herself. Gorman didn’t give her a choice, but she’d never actually threatened a suspect before. Shit, he wasn’t even a suspect, just someone she knew would give her answers. She must have been desperate. What if he came back and accused her of something?

No, he wouldn’t. He was a putz. She was fine on that account. What she didn’t know was how much longer she could hide the information from Price. Or Baldwin. Lincoln had tracked down the offices in California that were listed on the billing statements for the Selectnet Web site. But the trail had ended there. Despite Lincoln’s raw talent for ferreting information out of the ether, even he was stymied. Notwithstanding Gorman’s information, most of which they already had, he needed bigger resources. Which of course meant escalating the investigation. She was tempted to let Lincoln simply wipe her videos from the system. More than tempted. That would cover her ass. But how many other women were in those video files unaware? Could she in good conscience walk away from them too?

She knew the answer to that. She didn’t have a choice, not anymore. She took another swig of beer, set the bottle on the deck railing, lining up the bottom of the container with the wet ring its condensation created on the dark redwood. The evening still had some lin-240

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gering warmth from the afternoon sun, a nice counterpoint to the chilly start to her day. She rubbed the back of her neck, then dialed the phone. Baldwin answered on the first ring.

“Hi, babe. How are you?”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve been better. Do you have a minute?”

“Actually, yes. What’s wrong?”

“I need some professional advice.” She laid out the facts in as cool a voice as she could. When she finished, she could hear him breathing in the background. After a moment, she heard him mutter, “Son of a bitch.”

Yeah, you hit that one on the head.

He continued, his voice strained. “Jesus, Taylor. This isn’t the best timing.”

“Trust me, I’m a little perturbed myself. But that’s not the big problem. My embarrassment aside, I don’t know how many more videos are up there of other unsuspecting women. From what we could access through their firewall, the vast majority of the videos are just like the ones of me. Dark, grainy, low quality. Hidden cameras. Lincoln hasn’t busted through to their higher echelons yet, the better stuff might be hidden up there.”

He was silent.

“For God’s sake, say something.”

“What do you want me to say, Taylor? This is a bit overwhelming. Are you sure there aren’t more of you?”

“No, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything. All I know is there was a slew of videos of me fucking some guy I can’t stand. Some guy I fucking killed.” She couldn’t help raising her voice. “What is this, Baldwin?

Are you jealous of a fucking ghost?”

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“Don’t start attacking me. I’m—”

“You have absolutely no idea how humiliating this is. My team saw the video. Lincoln and Marcus saw me. And God knows how many other people. So yeah, I’m a little upset. And you’re not helping.”

He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had a dangerous edge.

“I’m just not exactly thrilled with the idea of my fiancée on the Internet, fucking, as you so crudely put it, another man.”

Taylor caught her breath. “It’s not like I arranged for this, or gave my consent. Come on, Baldwin, what the hell?”

She was just about to hang up on him when he said, “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was cruel of me. Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped. “But I don’t have a choice. I need to figure out what to tell my boss.”

“Don’t do that just yet. God, Taylor. You landed in it this time. Let me look into this. It sounds a lot like a case we had a few years back. We busted an amateur porn ring, a group of motorcycle freaks who were posting videos of unsuspecting women showering in their homes. I’ll make a couple of calls, see what I can find out.”

“What, now you’re sorry about it all and you want to help?” The snide edge to her tone surprised her. That wasn’t fair of her. He sighed deeply then, and she wished she could take it back.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Taylor said. God. She shouldn’t have told him. She knew she shouldn’t have told him.

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“Stop, okay? Trust me, I’ve got about fourteen different emotions running through me right now. I’d like to kill David Martin, but that’s not an option. I’d like to kill you, but you’re too far away.” She heard something odd in his voice. Jesus, what was happening? Was her whole life going to collapse because of David damn Martin?

“Yeah, well, then I’m kind of glad you’re there and I’m here. I’d like to go on appreciating my life, at least as long as I can.” She reached for her beer.

“Let me go and start checking this out. I…I’ll talk to you later.”

The abruptness of his desire to stop talking to her hurt her feelings more than his coldness. She said goodbye and hung up, wishing she had an old-fashioned phone so she could slam the receiver down and he could hear that she’d hung up on him. The button to turn the phone off wasn’t nearly as emphatic, or satisfying. Darkness had descended. Taylor glanced at her watch. Not quite nine yet. She had a few more minutes before she had to head out to the cabin. She went inside, careful to lock the door. The beer was making her sleepy. She sat down on the couch, flipped on the television. He hadn’t said I love you before he hung up. She’d never fought with Baldwin before, not like that. It made her nervous. It made her realize that she loved him. She cared what he thought about her. And that was the scariest part of it all. An unfamiliar calm settled over her, and she fought the urge to fall asleep. Too much to do.

But the room was warm, and she was comfortable. Though her mind was unwilling, her body, deprived of a decent rest for days, won the battle.

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* * *

He stood on the back deck, watching her through the blinds. She was deeply asleep, her arm thrown up over her head, a cowboy boot propped on the coffee table. How he longed to enter the house. For now, he was content to watch her sleep. Watch the faint rise and fall of her chest, watch the spot in the hollow of her neck that flashed with each beating of her heart. She was lovely.

Perfect.

His.

Thursday

Twenty-Six

Taylor was shocked when the sunlight streaming in her southerly facing front windows woke her. She looked at her watch—6:00 a.m. How in the hell? She’d slept for almost ten hours. She was a stranger to deep sleep, much less an entire evening and night’s worth at once. She felt sluggish, but when she sat up, she realized how rested she was. Goodness. If she could do that every night, she’d be in heaven.