Guardian Angel

Chapter 26

The pizza box falls to the floor as Kate shoves it aside, leaning across the table. The flavors of savory spice and passion meld as her lips meet Rick's. His fingers entwine with hers, and he rises from his chair, pulling her with him. Plunging his hand into her hair, an involuntary gasp escapes his throat. A thorn from the rose still woven into Kate's locks penetrates the soft mound of flesh at the base of his thumb, but he ignores the flash of pain. The rose is like the woman wearing it; thorns guard its beauty.

Kate pushes her top off her shoulder, exposing the enticing softness beneath, and hinting at what Kate's kept behind her wall of obsession and fear. Pizza forgotten, Rick's like a prisoner invited to a lush banquet after years of subsistence on bread and water. As his mouth finds its first taste, the need to touch, to feel, to explore every hidden secret, is overwhelming. He freezes for a moment, staring at the bounty before him."

"Rick, don't quit now," Kate entreats.

"I was about to go anyway, but message received," Johanna declares.

"I'm not," Rick pants, sweeping Kate up and carrying her from her kitchen. Thank God, Kate left the bedroom door open. He lays her gently on the bed and helps her pull her top over her head. The bra beneath speaks of the inner Kate, lacy softness hidden beneath a tough exterior. Kate unsnaps the front clasp, revealing the tantalizing globes underneath, their pink buds straining upward. Rick's tongue circles them in turn, as Kate writhes in escalating need.

Kate grabs his hand, guiding it to the heat pulsing between her legs. "Rick."

With fingers made nimble by desperation, he frees her from the constraints of zipper, snap, and fabric. Hot and moist, the epicenter of her arousal grows beneath his touch. She arches in urgency, reaching out to bare more of him. As she pulls Rick into the growing disarray of the bedcoverings, he flips her above him, his hardness pressing against her need. While still retaining a sliver of his sanity, he strokes her to the brink of a madness that screams for his entry. "Kate, do we need? I mean, could you become …?"

"No. Fine. Safe," she pants. "Rick, now!"

Her head falls back as he fills her, the tips of her hair brushing his bare thighs. Faster! Deeper! Her ride crazes in wildness as his mouth again finds her breasts. As she moans her frustration at a climax just beyond reach, his fingertips find her final trigger. Their explosive release leaves them clinging through the aftershocks.

Finally catching his breath, Rick props himself up on one elbow and gazes down at Kate. "That – was - amazing! You are… Damn, Kate! "I'm a writer, but I don't have the words."

Kate presses his hand between the two of hers. "Babe, you don't need any."


From the warmth of Rick's arms, Kate reaches for her buzzing cellphone. Montgomery wastes no time on pleasantries. "Beckett, the search of Coonan's apartment turned up a knife. It was under his pillow. Damned perv probably slept with the thing. Anyway, the lab compared it to the information Murray turned up. It's consistent with the murder weapon. They also found blood from multiple sources trapped under the hilt. It will take a few days to sort it all out, but the DNA will probably tie the knife to multiple homicides."

"My mother?" Kate queries.

"Too soon to know. You want to let Coonan cook for a few days until we get the results?"

"No," Kate decides. "If I tell him the blood is there, he'll know how many killings it implicates him in, even if we don't. Coonan is smart enough to figure that if he doesn't cooperate in a damn big way, he's down for the count. Are we set for the morning?"

"Yeah, he's asked for a lawyer, but the medics said Coonan's good to go."

Kate's jaw tightens. "Good. A lawyer will probably advise him to do whatever it takes to save his ass. I'll make it work."

Rick nips at the tender notch of Kate's neck. "Everything OK?"

"Better than OK. We have enough to nail Coonan to the wall." Kate's cautious fingers brush splotches of blue and purple on Rick's torso. Ouch! I didn't see these when we were… Coonan really kicked you, didn't he?"

Rick gingerly fingers his coloring skin. "Only bruises. Probably just blooming now. I had too much adrenalin to feel them before. We have the sonofabitch. That's what matters. I had worse when I tried riding Alexis' scooter."

"You should have bought one of your own."

Rick grins. "I did, but I donated it to a group of philanthropic Castle fans to sell at a charity auction."

Eyes smiling, Kate traces her fingers over the line of his roughening jaw. "Of course you did."


"You're making chocolate chip waffles!" Alexis exclaims as Rick slips one from his iron onto a plate. "Did stuff go well with your thing with Detective Beckett?"

Rick plops the plate in front of his daughter and pours more batter into the hot grids. "All yours, Pumpkin, and yes, they did."

"You must have caught the killer."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, we caught him."

Alexis' eyebrows rise as she regards her father. "But that's not what we're celebrating, is it?"

"Let's say it's an integral part of it."

Martha sweeps down the stairs, helps herself to the coffee Castle brewed, and studies her son's face. "I know that look, Richard. You and Detective Beckett…"

"Mother!" Castle interrupts, inclining his head toward Alexis.

Alexis' fork stops halfway to her mouth. "It's OK, Dad. I figured out that you and Detective Beckett had sex. I'm a teenager. Sex is a lot of what we think about."

Rick shakes his head. "As long as all you do is think."

"Don't worry, Dad. You know we've had the talk. And even Mom tried to give me one."

"Before or after she moved into that house in Malibu with her director? Never mind. Just finish your breakfast and get ready for school. Beckett is conducting an interrogation this morning, and I want to be there to watch how she operates.

Martha raises her cup in salute. "I bet you do."


"Can't you take the cuffs off? My arm hurts," Coonan complains.

"You're alive to feel it, which is more than I can say for your victims," Kate retorts.

"My client didn't kill anyone," Jerry Adelson, Esquire, objects. "He didn't even fire his gun."

"I know what your client did, Mr. Adelson," Kate responds. "I was there, as were Richard Castle and a squad of police. We also caught it on camera. The video alone will send him to jail. But I'm not talking about what your client did with a gun. I'm referring to what he did with a knife. I would think you could find a better hiding place than under your pillow, Dick. Or maybe that's the only way you have something stiff in bed. But the reason you want to cuddle up to a murder weapon at night doesn't matter. The DNA of your victims that we found on it does. And there was lots of it. Even if your murder sentences run concurrently, you'll be in maximum security until you're in a hole in the ground — unless you do something to help yourself. You're a puppet, Dick. Who's pulling your strings?"

Adelson holds up his hand. "I need to consult with my client — alone."

Kate nods, triumph sweeping through her veins. "Yes, Counselor, I'm sure you do."