The Art of Murder

by Claire Ripley

  One day he got more forward with his abuse. He'd taken up smoking with his friends and put his cigarette out on my arm. I leapt up, both from the pain and shock of it and launched myself at him, toppling us over and with fists flying. I was grounded for a long time when Greg heard T.R.'s version of the story. Greg never asked for my version.

  One day after school, T.R. threatened me with a switchblade. The bus had dropped us off from school and we were heading home, Chloe's hand in mine as we walked together. T.R. was teasing us but we ignored him until his voice got louder and he shoved me from behind.

  Facing him I squared my shoulders and said in an even tone, "leave us alone."

  "I don't like you," he responded, pulling out the knife and taking me by surprise. He sliced the air between us, catching my forearm and my palm as I tried to defend myself. "All you do is take up my parents' time and what little money they have. You and Chloe are better off elsewhere."

  "Run, Chloe!" I shouted.

  T.R. was grinning stupidly and chewing gum. I threw myself at him, and once again, we were rolling in the dirt, fighting for control of the weapon. It was clear from the look in his eye what he meant to do.

  The scuffle lasted only a few minutes but felt like it went on forever. Somehow, I gained control of the knife and stabbed him. The knife punctured an artery and he died before an ambulance could get there.

  ✽✽✽

  I wiped my eyes and stared out the window watching the lights of Charleston rush past. "I was taken into police custody. Chloe saw the whole thing. That was the last day I saw her. The state sealed my records because I was a minor and it was ruled self-defense. Still, I was horribly penalized. I lost the closest person to me—Chloe. I hated T.R. He tortured me and threatened to touch Chloe, but I didn't mean to kill him. I'm ashamed and don't deserve happiness or ever having a family of my own because of his death. Being around these," I swept my arm out to indicate tonight's dinner, "homey situations brings back all those emotions."

  "Christ." Connor had pulled into the garage and shook his head, the light filtering in to the SUV. "I thought I was doing you a favor getting you out of the house for a decent meal and a change of scenery. I'm sorry, Alabama. I didn't know." He reached over and squeezed my hand. "I'm so sorry."

  "I didn't tell you for sympathy. You must know this about me. I'm aware of certain things I won't get to have in this life, and that dinner tonight was a blatant reminder. Family is something I don’t get to have."

  I shrugged him off, and got out of the stifling, emotion-heavy SUV to go inside. I took a seat on the sofa and drew my knees to my chest, resting my chin on my knees. Connor followed and sat next to me, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring down at the floor. We sat like that in silence. I didn't know what to say to him after telling him this thing about me. The biggest turning point in my life was an ugly one, and the source of a lot of shame and guilt. I wished it would go away. I wished it could be tucked back inside me, but at the same time I recognized the relief in being telling someone what happened.

  "When I was eleven, my parents died in a drunk driving accident," he said in a low voice, so low I almost didn't hear. I held my breath and waited, watching his profile as he continued. "The driver was an illegal immigrant, out of his mind high on coke, and he walked away. My parents were celebrating their seventeenth wedding anniversary. My sister was sixteen. We didn't have grandparents around, or aunts or uncles to take care of us. It was just the two of us. Abby applied for early emancipation, and she raised me for the next seven years. She was a high school track star, and she quit, to take care of me. We scraped by, the two of us. So when I turned eighteen, I enlisted in the Navy so she could move on with her life. I'm telling you this because I know what it’s like, Emma. I get it."

  "I'm so sorry about your parents and what you and Abby went through," I said to him. After a beat of not knowing what else to say to him, I reached out and touched his arm. "Why do you care so much?" I whispered.

  "Because I care about you, Emma. Because the chief of police wants to use your gallery show as bait. The two goons who broke into Nina's are in police custody but still aren't talking. All leads are coming up as dead ends and I refuse to put you in danger. I just can't." He reached over and gently wiped my tears with the back of his knuckles. "Because that night in the bar, something did happen. We kissed, and I wanted more too." His gaze locked with mine.

  Whether it was the way he was looking at me, as no man ever had before, or the intensity of the moment, and discussing matters of life and death, but something came over me. I reached over and pressed my lips to his.

  I was unsure at first, pressing my hands against the hard wall of his chest, but then he returned my kiss with fury and passion, pulling me harder against him and taking over. His body offered warmth against the cold. I leaned into him, snaking my arms around his neck as his tongue slid into my mouth, hungrily exploring. Connor lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around him.

  I was vaguely conscious of him walking through the house, but I was too busy giving in to the chemistry that I'd been so bent on denying. His lips were everywhere, breaking from my mouth to trail kisses down my jaw and neck. A small sound escaped as I tilted my head to the side to give him better access to my neck.

  He led me to the bedroom, sitting down with me on his lap. His hands stroked my sides, leaning his forehead against mine. "Are we doing this, Em?" He breathed.

  I nodded, hungry for more. I ran my hands up his sides and through his sandy cropped hair. I touched my lips to his again, pressing my breasts in response to his chest. His big hands slid under my shirt, and I sucked in a breath at the contact of his hands on my belly. My bra was unsnapped, and he was lifting my shirt over my head. In a flash he had me flipped on my back, on leg straddling my hips and leaning on his arms and looking down at me. I paused then, sensing his hesitation, remembering our night in New York. "What is it?" I whispered, holding his darkened gaze.

  "You have my word; you can trust me. I'll do everything in my power to see you out of this investigation alive." The seriousness to his words jolted me. I could only reply with a nod and pressing my lips to his. One large hand flattened on my belly and inched its way up, upward to my chest, onward to my neck, where his fingers rested gently, resting against my throat. "Beautiful," he said roughly. I could only watch him, stilled both by his hands and waiting to see what he would do next. His eyes flicked up to mine before bending his head and catching my breast in his mouth.

  I closed my eyes, letting the sensation take me. His fingers took the other nipple in them, pinching, licking and teasing. My hands reached for him, grabbing his jeans and unbuttoning them. He slid my pants off, threw them on the floor and kneeled in front of me.

  I leaned up on my elbows and made to draw away from him, but he grabbed my ankles, looking up with raised eyebrows. God, and was he ever sexy. Tousled hair and those dark whiskey eyes glowing with desire. For me. Naked and kneeling before me, all muscle-y and on display.

  He held on to my ankles with light pressure, his thumbs circling my ankles. "Let me kiss you, gorgeous." He trailed light kisses up my thighs, teasing me. And then he did.

  "Oh my God," I murmured, shoving a fist in my mouth. He responded again with a knowing glint in his eye.

  "Gorgeous," he repeated, and I was moaning louder, embarrassment forgotten.

  I vaguely heard the sound of a condom wrapper as he sheathed himself and crawled up my body. Connor was everywhere, big shoulders, muscular chest and abs, and his eyes were taking me in again with that intense look filled with lust...and something else. But I was too far gone to decipher it. "Connor...now, inside me," I gasped, grabbing his shoulders.

  He paused, giving me a moment to get used to him, before pushing in further. "God, you feel good," he said thickly in my ear. The mix of sweat and his cologne were a heady thing. He pushed in further.

  "Now, now," I demanded, digging my nails into his shoulders, squeezing my eyes closed as I felt m
y orgasm on the edge.

  He pushed harder and faster into me, holding me to him as I melted around him, and then he exploded inside me. He slowed, gasping for breath and collapsing onto my chest.

  He kissed me again, his tongue tangling with mine as if he still hadn't had enough of me. He rolled, pulling me on top of him. I rested my head on his chest, listening to his pounding heart as we both caught our breath.

  I didn't remember falling asleep, but I did remember the soothing sound of his breathing and heartbeat as I melted in his arms.

  Twenty-Six

  The bed was empty when I woke up. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, refusing the poor attempt to keep the bright light away. I stretched and my body reminded me of muscles that were used last night and places that were touched that hadn't been touched in a long time. I grinned lazily, luxuriating in the memories of the two of us last night. It had been so good. Mind-blowingly good, in fact. I'd had a couple boyfriends and sex wasn't new to me, but I didn't know it could be like that.

  Then I remembered dinner at Abby's house.

  God. So much for a good first impression.

  I'd been upset with Connor, then hid out in the bathroom and made every attempt to leave early. What sparkling company I made, I thought wryly. The thing was, I was awkward in front of other families. I either felt like I was intruding or wanted to run away. Explaining this to Connor, even what happened with T.R., somehow lightened my guilt. I felt less burdened after having confessed to him what I'd done.

  I found my panties and a tshirt of his, pulled them on and wandered into the kitchen. There he was. I froze in the doorway. He was dressed in sweatpants and nothing else, standing at the stove, stirring something in the pan. His muscles rippled down his back, his scar drawing my eye down his torso. I thought back to my first night at his house when he made me a cup of tea, and he looked exactly like this. Except this time, I knew his body. I knew what it felt like to run my hands along his naked back, all that gloriously warm skin and the look in his eyes when he looked at me.

  He looked up, catching me watching him, and his face broke into a grin. "Good morning, gorgeous. Come here."

  I walked over to him where he was standing at the stove and he pulled me into his side, kissing me fully on the lips. I couldn't stop my own wide grin that stretched across my face if I tried.

  "Hi," I said softly. Shyness was suddenly taking over. The question of us, and what was to become of us suddenly was much bigger.

  "Hi. Hungry?"

  "Starving."

  "Good."

  He plated us up and we sat down to a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast. I was expecting awkward, but it wasn't. It was comfortable, and that sexual tension we shared was building again. We said nothing while we ate, our gazes meeting but no actual words spoken.

  ✽✽✽

  It was after going back to bed for round three, limbs entwined and our skin glistening, that Connor turned serious.

  "I want to talk to you about something." His voice was low and raspy, his fingers pulling through my hair and coiling the ends around his fingers.

  "Hmm?" My eyes were closed, and I was tucked into his side. I pictured us lying together like couples in the movies and it made me gleefully happy to have this one moment for myself, that for once my life looked enviable, if one were to look in on me. I was the girl in bed with an amazing man.

  "I'm considering Chief's suggestion of using you to bait the Sgambatis at your show tomorrow. But I need to know your comfort level."

  That was easy. I didn't hesitate to answer. "I'm in. I want to help. I want to get this over with and get my life back."

  "You have to know the risks involved."

  "You will be there?"

  He nodded, even though I couldn't see it, I felt the motion. "I would be there. Along with other plainclothes officers. We'd put a wire on you as well."

  "I'm good with it then."

  "That was a faster conversation than I thought."

  I shifted up on my elbows and held his gaze. "I trust you," I said simply.

  ✽✽✽

  "Come here."

  I wiped my hands on my jeans and, taking a deep breath, found Connor in the kitchen. He was braced against the counter, his broad back tapered down to a narrow waist. Selfishly, I took that unguarded moment to watch him when he wasn't watching me. He was leaning onto his hands, staring out the window.

  "What is it?" Tentatively I stepped into his view, a sinking feeling in my belly at the palpable tension in the room.

  "Annalina. She found something." He looked up, his brow furrowed in thought.

  "Tell me already."

  "There is a mole giving information to the Sgambatis. We've discussed this possibility, you and I."

  "Yeah...."

  "Your friend. Caty Drake is betraying you."

  "I'm sorry, what?" I pressed a hand to my forehead and stared at Connor in disbelief.

  "Caty is the mole. She's been working with the Sgambatis."

  My stomach rolled at the information. I never let anyone get close to me. My own scattered childhood had taught me that people always left. Everyone was in it for themselves. I should have known better. How could I have been so stupid? "No, it's just not possible. Caty would never..." I sagged against the wall, staring at my feet.

  "Alabama," Connor said softly. "She did and she is. Annalina cross-referenced her phone records with the Sgambatis. It's not a one-off; this has been going on for a while."

  I was suddenly hot all over, and the room was suffocating. I escaped outside to the back deck, the icy air a welcome compress to my burning face. Under-dressed in a tank top, I was still perspiring.

  What the fuck?! What did Caty want from me? Had she befriended me for another reason? To use me for something? I briefly considered calling Caty myself, but knew Connor wouldn't give me my cell. Every thought and conversation she and I had had ran through my mind in rapid fire. I was baffled what the connection could be, why me? The gallery? The Junior League show?

  I felt Connor's presence behind me before I heard him. "I'm such an idiot," I told him, not turning around.

  "You couldn't have known."

  "I should have, though," I responded, looking up at him. Connor's handsome features were a hard mask, hazel eyes watching me carefully. "Every conversation was a set-up. Caty was always asking about my painting, my work with the Junior League and Nina Alexis. In retrospect it's so blatantly obvious. God."

  "Hey--"

  "No, Connor, listen. She was my friend and I've had very few in my life. Those people always end up leaving. Naturally, this is how it works out for me. I'm not playing the victim card here, but why does it always have to be me? I'm just a regular girl trying to make it in this world, and my only friend betrays me. Someone tries to kill me. Just...fuck." I leaned on the railing and put my hands over my face, hot tears making my eyes burn.

  "Alabama, listen to me." Connor put a hand on my arm and pulled my face toward him. "You're not alone. You've got me."

  I nodded, unable to release his intense gaze. "You've got to understand. I don't trust anyone, and I trusted her. What about you? How do I know you're not working with them?"

  His eyes narrowed. We held each other's gazes for a moment. "You don't," he finally said.

  ✽✽✽

  Voices filled the air, shouting to move a table to the left, put the food over there, where's the champagne delivery? The gallery showing was opening in an hour. Caterers and Nina's staff were running around in a frenzy. After observing their circus, I left the room. I needed nothing else to add to my nerves. I swallowed thickly, hoping to bat away the butterflies in my belly. I slipped silently down the back hallway of the gallery, trusting I would find that bottle of vodka I knew Nina kept in the back. The long hallway masked a few offices for the art gallery, as well as a small kitchen. It was here I found the sought after vodka in the freezer. I poured myself a small glass, propped myself against the counter and welcomed the burn of the li
quor.

  Tonight had to go well. They were expecting more than they anticipated for the show, partly because of the pull the Junior League managed, but also because of the recent coverage from the robbery and murder. Unfortunately. But, with some significant sales, I could soon quit working at the law firm.

  I didn't hear Connor's footsteps. Without warning he was in my space. Strong, firm hands spanned my waist. "Alabama," he stated softly. "That dress is killing me."

  A heavenly combination of creamy ivory and pale pink material, the dress had a deep cleavage-revealing v-neckline and gathered seductively at the shoulders. Brushing my knees flirtatiously, the length was perfect. Although my strappy sandals were inches higher than I was used to, I still had to look up to meet Connor's eyes. I was self-conscious wearing such a revealing dress and mindful that keeping everything in place demanded perfect posture. To complement the beauty and boldness of this outfit, I curled my hair in loose waves and added a vampish wine-colored lipstick.

  "It's the one Nina sent," I muttered. Setting down my glass, I attempted to cross my arms, but he caught and held my wrists and inched closer, pressing his body to mine.

  "Don't," he whispered, his breath hot in my ear. "Don't cross your arms in front of me. You're beautiful." His tongue trailed down my neck, leaving goosebumps across my skin. I shivered under his touch. My nipples hardened at this and the silk trapping my breasts only teased me further.

  "Connor, I...I can't," I protested, and tried to pull myself free.

  "Yes, you can." His voice was again a low whisper in my ear and he held me tighter. I could feel him against me, and he wedged a knee between my legs. One arm enfolded my waist and the other slid along my side and down my leg until it found the hem. "Have dinner with me afterward."

  "Connor," I moaned, my resolve disappearing.

  He pulled back and looked hard in my eyes. "Tell me to stop." While he held me in his gaze, his hand moved up my thigh. I gasped, and the corners of his mouth twitched. His finger found the waistband of my underwear. "Shall I stop?" One corner of his mouth curled slightly, the dare dancing in his eyes.