“I’m sorry to hear that. Well, his loss,” Jess raised the bottle to his lips, “You’re in my hands, now.”
Just them Simone appeared in the doorway. “Darling, you didn’t tell me we had guests.”
“I thought you liked surprises?”
“I do.” Simone moved toward Blondie, inspecting as she circled the girl. “What’s your name, beautiful?” Simone cooed.
“What the fuck is going on here?” The girl jumped off the stool.
“Relax,” Jess replied calmly. “I thought you were hungry?”
“Are you two some sort of deviates or something?” Blondie grabbed her jacket and shoved one arm into the sleeve. “You lied to me,” she said, shoving the other arm in the remaining sleeve. “Another fucking liar. I should’ve known it!”
“Calm down,” Jess tone was even, subdued. “This is my sister. She’s just messing with you, aren’t you sis?”
“Yes. Whatever my brother says.” Simone’s eyes remained on the girl’s cleavage until the girl pulled her jacket closed. Simone refrained from licking her lips. “Please, sit. Eat. I’ll be upstairs.” Simone brushed against Jess’s shoulder. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”
“Most certainly.” Jess placed his hand on Simone’s shoulder. His hand slid down across her breast and lingered on her taught nipple. He glanced up at Blondie, who wasn’t sure if she should shit or go blind. He wanted to laugh but knew he had to play the scenario out in a delicate manner. He didn’t want the girl to fly into panic mode and wake up the neighbors. Once Simone retreated from the room, he asked, “Do you prefer your eggs scrambled or fried?”
* * *
Grace cuddled closer to Paul. His soft snoring wasn’t what kept her awake. Having him with her at night was comforting. Normally she would’ve fallen asleep after their lovemaking. He exhausted her in a blissful way. He drained her body of tension and wrung any anxiety from her soul. He made her float in the ether and melt into a puddle. Their lovemaking got better each time. I’m so lucky, she thought. Then why are you still awake? She wrapped her arm around Paul’s waist and held him tight. Her flesh crawled with goose bumps. Because I’m afraid I’m going to lose it all.
Unable to sleep, Grace rose from the bed. She walked into the spacious living room and parted the drapes. Her slight reflection appeared on the sliding door as she peered at the full moon. Waves crashed against the shore in a rhythmic groove. Her body swayed to the music of the night, wrenching her mind back to her college days and the night at the lake with Jess. Her muscles tensed up. Chills ran up her spine. What the hell was I thinking back then? She placed one hand on the glass, feeling the vibration of the wind trying to penetrate the barrier. Behind the shimmering light of the moon was an abyss, dark and threatening. You’re not going to win, she screamed silently in her head. I’m on to you now! She pulled the drapes closed with a snap and headed back to bed. Suddenly a flash of foreboding washed over her, and she stopped in her tracks. A familiar scent invaded her nostrils. She turned quickly.
“Damn Paul! You scared the wits out of me!”
“Sorry, chér. What’s wrong? What are you doing up?”
“Can’t sleep.”
“And?”
“Maybe warm milk will help. Do we have any cocoa?”
“Sure do. Shall I make a fire?”
“No, just sit with me for a while. I’ll be fine.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Creepy thoughts, that’s all.”
“Let me guess—Jess?”
“Who else?”
* * *
Simone lay silently on the bed, listening to the conversation below. She didn’t know quite what to think of Sheppard’s actions. She bounced out of bed and checked the bathtub. She ran her fingers along the porcelain surface, checking for rough spots. Nothing worse than a blood stain, she mused. She opened the linen closet and grabbed a stack of towels. She checked the label. JC Penny’s. Good. Replaceable. Hotels were much easier. She simply ditched the bloody linens and ordered more. No questions asked. She opened her cell phone, Googled the brand of towels on the Internet and placed an order under a fictitious name with the Sacramento address. Rush delivery. She entered one of her many charge card numbers and expedited the transaction.
* * *
Downstairs, Jess broke four eggs into a frying pan. He poked the yoke on two of them. “Salt? Pepper? Both? I aim to please.”
Blondie slipped out of her jacket and leaned across the counter. “Really? Another choice?”
“It’s just seasoning baby, not a big deal.”
“Tony doesn’t ask. He orders for me. He picks out my clothes. We go where he wants to go…”
“And you stay with him?”
“Stupid, huh?”
“You have choices now. Salt, pepper, or both?”
Blondie’s dimples brightened her face. “Both!” She slid off the stool and stood next to Jess. “No one’s ever cooked me breakfast before.”
Jess slipped his arm around her waist. “No one? What about your mother?”
“My mother was a crack whore. She died when I was ten. McDonald’s was down the street. My dad would leave me a buck or two before he left for work.”
Jess tuned her out. He didn’t want to hear her sob story. No one experienced a childhood worse than his. No one had endured the torture his mother and her merry men bestowed upon him. No one! “How about some toast. Can’t eat eggs without toast.”
“Toast sounds yummy. Got any jelly?”
Jess grinned an evil grin. “Do you have a name?”
“Yeah. Kimmy.”
* * *
During Sheppard’s performance as chefe de cozinha to the sweet young morsel, Simone fought fatigue. Straining to hear what was being said soon became boring. She wanted to play. She wanted to sink her teeth into Blondie’s firm bosom, nibble on her tiny earlobes while she explored between her legs. The thought of watching Sheppard take her from behind perked her up a little, but her eyelids grew heavy. She couldn’t hold out much longer. Just then, she heard footsteps on the stairs. Blondie’s voice slurred out her concerns. She wanted to know where she was and where Sheppard was taking her. Simone’s stomach flipped with excitement. She propped herself up against the pillows and waited.
* * *
Grace snuggled next to Paul on the sofa, her legs and feet tucked beneath her. “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” she said in a subtle tone.
Paul placed his hand on her knee and squeezed gently. “It will be over soon, I promise.”
“This isn’t your cross to bear, my love.”
“We both want the same thing, chér, perhaps for different reasons, but with him dead or behind bars, we will both sleep well.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so wrapped up in my own needs.” She placed her hand over his and lifted his fingers to her lips. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”
“Ideally? Six. But if I’m on the road by seven, I should be fine.”
“I miss you already.”
“Really? I like the sound of that.” He leaned toward her. “You’ll be fine,” he said, between nibbles on her neck. “You’re safe here.”
She flicked her tongue around his fingertips, listening to him suck air between his teeth. “I want you again,” she whispered.
Without another word, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
* * *
“Took you long enough.” Simone sprung out of bed.
“I wasn’t up for a kick in the balls,” he said, practically dragging Blondie beside him. “Sedatives work a little slower in jelly.”
“Bichano.” She made a meowing sound.
“What did you call me?”
Simone flashed a smart-ass smile. “Let’s put her on the bed.”
“I feel her stomach rumbling. I hope she doesn’t puke…or worse.”
Simone unzipped the girl’s skinny jeans and peeled them off her slender hips. A tin
y scrap of material some would call panties rolled down too, revealing a thin dark patch and a tattoo of a tiger named “Tony.” Simone frowned. “Damn, this bitch isn’t even a real blond.” Without missing a beat, she proceeded to remove the girl’s pretty sweater and unfasten her dingy, Victoria’s Secret knock-off that hoisted the girl’s perky breasts. Simone shook her head, holding the offensive item by one safety-pinned strap. For a second, maybe less, she felt sorry for the girl.
“Ad-am,” the girl moaned, making a futile attempt to pull her pants back up.
“Adam?” Simone locked onto Jess’s deadpan look. “Who the fuck is Adam?”
“Was I supposed to give her my real name?”
“What does it matter if she’s dead?”
“It matters to me.”
“So is Darren Sheppard your real name?”
Jess held out his hands. “Baby, darling, would I lie to you?”
Simone expelled a hardy laugh. “I hope so! I’d find you extremely boring if you didn’t.”
Jess sat on the edge of the bed and hurried to remove his shoes and socks. “So, how do you want to do this?”
“Let’s not make a big mess tonight. I have to be up early, and our towel supply is limited.”
“Okay, well, I want to do her before she passes out, so you want to go first? Or do you prefer sloppy seconds””
Simone unfastened the sash on her robe. Red, silky fabric slid down her bare shoulders and puddled around her ankles. She bent down and pressed her naked flesh against the girl’s limp body. She sampled the girl’s supple lips. “Ladies first.”
* * *
Paul lay beside Grace on the bed and pulled the comforter over them both. He stroked her hair as she delivered the promise of pleasuring him the way only she could do. He closed his eyes enjoying the softness of her lips and her warm wet tongue, but the image of her blood-soaked body lying on the floor haunted him. He opened his eyes wide, banishing the scene. He squirmed. Visions weren’t something he was prone to. Memories, yes. Recall, yes. Not this.
“What’s wrong?” Grace popped her head over the covers.
“Cramp in my foot.”
“Want me to massage it for you?” she asked, her voice dripping honey.
“I love what you’re doing. I think I’m just pooped. It’s been a long day. Forgive me?”
Grace scooted herself up in the bed and plumped her pillow next to his. “You’ve spoiled me. I’m getting greedy.”
“No, chér, never. The ocean air, being here with you…I’m so content and relaxed. I’m a noodle! C’mere.” He kissed her deeply, taking her breath away. “You make me the happiest man alive.”
“I hope you’ll always love me this way, Paul.”
“Ditto, honey. Ditto.”
Paul wrapped his arm around Grace and pulled her close. When he closed his eyes, the image of her dead body stole his inner vision, and he shuddered. Grace stirred. “You cold?”
He tightened his grip on her for a moment, then let go and chuckled. “Cat walked over a grave.”
“What? That’s nonsense,” she said, her voice fading.
“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, kissing her hair. “You’re absolutely right.”
CHAPTER 20
LIAR LIAR
F aint shards of light crept across the black, duvet cover as Simone wrestled to free herself from tangled body parts.
Her leg, pinned beneath Sheppard’s leg and Blondie’s arm, now cool to the touch, were dead weight on her wrist. Simone stared into vacant, blue eyes. Her hand crept along the girl’s body checking for signs of suppleness. The girl’s breasts remained room temperature. Too bad I have to leave so soon. All my kneading paid off. An hour or so remained before the girl’s body would feel like granite; perhaps if she kept the girl’s blood moving, she wondered. No time. Simone gave Jess a shove.
“Wake up sleepyhead. I have to shower. You’ll have to clean up your own mess today. I’ve got plans. Remember?”
Jess bunched his pillow. “Quit being a bitch and leave me alone. I want to sleep.” He opened one eye. “What the fuck time is it anyway?”
“Six-thirty.”
“It’s still dark outside for fuck sakes! Why are you waking me up so early?” Jess rolled over re-pinning Simone’s leg.
When she pushed his leg off of hers, he grabbed her ankle. Flint-like eyes ignited into a power struggle. Simone held her ground. “Get off! I told you I am meeting a friend in the city at ten.”
“Last night you said you were having lunch. Which is it?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“No?”
“Are we having jealousy issues?”
“No. Trust issues maybe.”
“Trust?”
He rolled over, taking the covers with him. “We clean up the mess together. Then you’re free to go.”
“And helping you is going to earn your trust?”
“We kill together; we clean together. I’ll dispose of the body, this time.”
“Fine! Get your ass out of bed then, so we can get started.”
* * *
Grace pulled the comforter down and stretched. Six a.m. resembled 6 p.m. in the winter months. Disorientation claimed her senses until she heard Paul in the shower. She got up, slipping into fluffy mules and a robe.
“Good morning, Mr. Fortier,” she called through the bathroom door. She entered and stood by the vanity, admiring his athletic form maneuvering through plumes of steam. Her body warmed and tingled as she imagined herself in the shower with him.
“Be out in a sec!” His voice sounded melodious for such an early hour. When he turned off the water, she handed him a towel and received a wink and a smile in return. “Good morning, soon to be Mrs. Fortier.” He slowly wrapped the towel around his waist, captivating her interest.
“Mrs. Fortier has a nice ring to it.” She finger-fluffed his hair, drawing his face close enough to kiss.
“Wish I had more time,” he groaned, nuzzling her neck. “I tried not to wake you.”
“I know, but I wanted to say goodbye.”
Paul slung his arm around her shoulders and walked her into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him dress. Her heart sang, knowing she could feast her eyes on him every day for the rest of her life.
“What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“Depends on how the surgery goes. The mare we’re operating on is very temperamental. She has the propensity to scare the crap out of every vet that touches her. If all goes well, I should be back on the road by five or six. How about a late dinner in town. I can make reservations.”
“You are such a sweet and thoughtful man, but I know you’re going to be tired after such a long day. I’ll fix us something. We can veg in front of the TV and maybe watch a movie. I’ll rub your back.
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course I would!”
“I’d love it.” Paul plunged his wallet into his pocket and grabbed his car keys off the dresser. “I’ll pick up dessert.”
“Okay.” Grace reached up on the dresser and palmed the rectangular case, “Don’t forget your phone.”
“Thanks, chér.” He bent down to explore her lips. “Stay out of trouble, okay? No running in the house. Keep away from the shopping channels. Let’s see…what else? Oh yeah, keep the door locked and no strangers in the house.”
“Boy, you’re no fun.”
“You’ll thank me one day.”
Grace bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. “I’m sure I will. Now scoot, so you can come back to me. And watch out for those hooves! Talk about dangerous!”
“Scarlett will be out like a light before I get close to any of her body parts. Jed Foster is our anesthesiologist today; he’s the best.” He lifted Grace’s chin with his finger. “Seriously, you okay with me leaving?”
“Of course! I’m a big girl. I brought my pistol just in case I want to put a few rounds in your grandmother’s antique
parlor set.”
“Nice! Don’t hurt yourself… And watch out for Sneaky. She blends in.”
“Don’t tell me those furry chairs are the real deal!”
“You didn’t hear it from me.” He kissed her again. This time he didn’t linger. She understood.
“Go. You’re late.”
“Love you.”
“Love you more,” she called to the back of his head. The door closed. The lock turned, and suddenly she felt very much alone. She went to the window and lifted the shade. The sun rose, bleeding through the trees as she watched Paul’s truck wind its way up the driveway and disappear.
She turned toward the dog resting in front of the fireplace. “Just you and me, girl,” she whispered. Sneaky’s eyes followed her to the glass door. “How about a morning walk?” Sneaky whimpered and stood up, issuing a gentle woof.
“Let me get dressed. I promise to get my stick throwing technique perfected today.”
Grace opened the massive closet door and grabbed a sweater from the lower rack. Paul had seen to it that she had everything she needed: coats, sweaters, boots, scarves and hats— everything to keep her warm. She pulled down a box from one of the upper shelves, expecting the find gloves. She found photos—war photos, family photos, photos of Paul and another woman. She picked up the photo of Paul and the curvaceous brunette. Pretty. Grace wondered who she was. What did she mean to him? Did he love her once? Did she break his heart? Did he break hers? Grace turned the photo over and read the inscription aloud. “My Darling, more good times to come!” Grace set the photo aside and dipped her hand into the box. No need to mull over possibilities. Whoever the girl was, she wasn’t in his life now. Grace was sure that she had won Paul’s full attention and devotion.
She dug deeper into the box, discovering a small box hugging one corner at the bottom. Grace’s curiosity got the better of her, and she opened the box with lightning speed. Two gold rings nestled side by side. The engraved dates inside each caused a lump in her throat. His parents? She lifted a yellowed Polaroid, a faint image of a woman gowned in white, stuffing cake into the mouth of a man in an ill-fitted suit. Grace studied the image closer. Why do they look so familiar?
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