by Erin Wade
The ambulance pulled into the circular drive of the chancellor’s mansion. Peyton waved the paramedics toward them and explained what had happened.
“He does look like a clowder of cats got hold of him,” one paramedic observed, chuckling. “Got drunk and fell into the chancellor’s prize rose bushes, huh? This guy’s a piece of work.”
“Yeah.” Peyton snorted. “A real piece of work. Take him to the campus facility so he can sleep it off.”
##
Regan watched Brandy as she consulted with Peyton and Joey. A soft touch on her arm drew her attention to the person dressed as Zorro.
“Let me guess who you are,” Zorro said in fluent Spanish.
Regan chuckled. “Professor Arturo. Are you having a good time?”
“I am,” Sofia Arturo replied. “I see you’re with Supergirl.”
“Yes.” Regan sighed. “Dare I ask how she did on her test?”
“Aced it,” Sofia said. “She didn’t miss a thing. You must be a good teacher.”
“She’s a good student. She’s very smart, but for some reason she was struggling with verb conjugation.”
“That’s what they all have trouble with, but you must have taught her something that made it all fall into place. When you have time, I’d like to discuss how you approached it. It might help me in my classroom.”
“That’s very flattering,” Regan said. “I’m sure you know all the little teaching techniques. I’m afraid Brandy just wasn’t listening.”
Sofia scanned Wonder Woman’s body. “I’m sure she had other things on her mind.”
##
“I must go to the University Health Services,” Peyton informed Katherine O’Brien. “Your athletic director took a nosedive into your prize rose bushes. I had the ambulance take him to UHS. I want to make certain no one tries to blame Joey for the accident.”
“But you’ll be back.” Katherine looked up through long lashes, a tiny smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
“Stampeding longhorns couldn’t keep me away,” Peyton promised. “I know what’s under that Cat Woman costume.”
“I appreciate the way you and your team have contained Radford tonight,” Katherine said. “Few people are even aware he was here. He’s such an embarrassment. Please hurry back. I’ll miss you.”
##
Peyton entered the clinic as the ambulance drivers were returning to their vehicles. “Is he okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, they just put him in a room to sleep it off,” the driver replied. “He’s still covered in his own vomit.”
“Do you know what room he’s in?”
“I heard the orderly talking about room 302,” the paramedic responded. “We told them he fell into a bunch of rose bushes.”
Peyton thanked them and moved toward the elevator. The clinic was quiet. She knew that many of the students had already left campus for the Christmas holiday, and the facility was operating with a skeleton staff.
The driver’s information was correct, and Peyton found Radford snoring loudly. “You’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow,” she muttered as she watched the man sleep.
Chapter 38
When Peyton returned to the mansion, the masquerade ball was in full swing. She searched out Katherine and approached her. “Everything is under control,” she reassured the chancellor. “Your party seems to be a tremendous success.”
“Yes, it is.” Katherine beamed. “With no animals from the athletic department in attendance, everything is running smoothly. Thanks to you.”
Peyton looked around the ballroom, locating the security team. Pat Sawyer was strutting around as if she were important. I wonder how she sleeps at night, Peyton thought as she mentally went through all the sexual violence cases Chief Sawyer had covered up or destroyed evidence from to prevent prosecution.
Joey and Brandy were in deep conversation about something that was obviously infuriating Brandy. Peyton stifled a smile as she watched Brandy turn from totally furious to meek as a lamb when Professor Shaw returned from the bar with two glasses of wine. She’s got it bad, Peyton thought.
“Has anyone guessed who you are?” Peyton asked Katherine.
“Not a soul.” She chuckled. “It’s fun to be incognito in plain sight.”
##
As planned, the Christmas party ended at midnight. Peyton and the rest of the security team herded stragglers toward the front door, where Katherine wished everyone a Merry Christmas. After the last guest left, Katherine closed and locked the door. She fell back against it and closed her eyes for a few seconds.
“You look tired,” Peyton whispered. “I’d better be going too.”
“You promised to help me out of this suit,” Katherine said, her voice soft and sultry.
Peyton followed the chancellor upstairs and locked the bedroom door behind them. Katherine stopped inside the room and waited for the agent to unzip her costume.
Peyton’s downward pull on the zipper was excruciatingly slow. She stopped midway and placed soft lips on Katherine’s shoulders and neck.
“Please,” Katherine moaned.
The zipper continued its downward trajectory, as Peyton slipped her hand inside the suit and let her fingers walk toward the redhead’s taut breast. She teased the nipple, causing Katherine to throw her head back against Peyton’s chest. Peyton cupped both of Katherine’s breasts and pulled her tighter against her.
“I’ve thought about this all night,” she whispered in Katherine’s ear.
“As have I,” Katherine murmured, turning in Peyton’s arms. “I fear you won’t think of me as a lady after tonight.”
“What will I think of you?” Peyton said as their lips brushed together.
“I want you to think of me as the woman you can’t love enough,” Katherine whispered. “The woman you will always turn to for fulfillment of your fantasies and your needs.”
##
It was five in the morning when Peyton slipped from the bathroom into Kate’s bed. She lay on her back and replayed her night with Kate O’Brien. The stories she’d heard about redheads were true. They were demanding and satisfying lovers. Heat pooled between her legs as she thought about the way Katherine had begged and screamed her name, as if it were a mantra for sexual release.
Katherine snuggled into her and muttered, “You’re cold, darling. Wrap around me.”
Peyton spooned against the woman who now consumed her heart and mind. She inhaled the scent of Katherine and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
The ringing of Katherine’s phone made both jerk awake. It took them a minute to untangle their naked bodies. “Hello?” Katherine’s sleepy, sensuous voice made Peyton want to make love to her one more time.
“When did you discover this?” Katherine asked. The sleep was gone from her voice, and she became Chancellor O’Brien, university lioness. “Have you called Chief Sawyer? . . . “Yes, please call her, and tell her to call me as soon as she knows anything. . . . Thank you.”
“What’s going on?” Peyton asked as she turned on the bedside lamp. A lump formed in her throat as the dim light danced in Kate’s emerald eyes.
“Radford’s dead,” Kate mumbled. “They think he aspirated and choked to death on his own vomit.”
“I can’t say I’m sorry.” Peyton pulled Kate back into her arms. “It solves everyone’s problems.”
“Mmm, yes it does,” Kate murmured as she pulled Peyton’s hand where she wanted it.
Chapter 39
“I’m telling you the security cameras show someone dressed as Batman going into his room and coming out a few minutes later.” Chief Pat Sawyer was pacing the floor. “I think Radford was murdered.”
“Now you start acting like a real police officer?” Peyton scoffed. “Do you have the security footage?”
“The clinic is pulling a copy for me now.” Sawyer grunted. “You know, Radford’s death solves a lot of problems for a lot of people.”
Peyton frowned. “Yeah, and the timing co
uldn’t have been better. Football season ends with the bowl game. His death frees Chancellor O’Brien to begin the search for a reputable head coach and athletic director.
“Paula Lambert is free to live her life without the specter of Radford haunting her and her son. You really screwed her over, by the way.”
“I did what I had to do to survive,” Pat said.
“I’ve spent the last four months tracking down the women who filed rape complaints against Radford, his staff, and his athletes,” Peyton said with a sigh. “Do you have any idea how many of them committed suicide after dealing with you?”
Pat had the decency to look down at the floor. “I meant them no harm. I was just staying afloat in a world of corrupt politics.”
“Corruption you permitted to grow like a cancer on this campus.” Peyton snarled in disgust. “How did you see all this ending?”
“Honestly, I didn’t see it ending,” Pat muttered. “But it has. Thanks to someone who had the guts to kill Tucker and Chase and maybe Radford.”
“Keep that to yourself until we get a close look at the security video,” Peyton instructed. “Triple murders tend to send up a serial-killer flare. The last thing we need is the news media crawling around our campus sensationalizing the three deaths.
“You really can’t stand up to close scrutiny,” Peyton added.
“When are you going to put me into witness protection and let me start living a new life?” Pat asked.
“As soon as I wrap up these murders.” Peyton inhaled deeply and let the air escape her lungs slowly. “I’ve already made the arrangements. I have your written and audio confession about the atrocities committed by the athletic department and covered up by you. It was easy to convince the brass that your life will be in danger when I start rounding up the people you are testifying against.
“Christ, this goes back twelve years. One of the perps is a state senator now. That’s gonna hit the fan.”
“I know,” Pat mumbled.
“Have you arranged an autopsy on Radford’s body?” Peyton asked.
“Not yet. I guess I should do that,” Pat said. “They don’t usually do an autopsy when someone dies in a hospital facility. The coroner declared his death an accident. He asphyxiated on his own vomit.”
“Hold off on the autopsy,” Peyton instructed. “Don’t release his body until I tell you to.”
Chapter 40
“Give me this assignment,” Leslie Winters pleaded with her new boss. “I promise you I’ll bring back one hell of a story.”
“People are fascinated by Texans and their frontier justice.” William Porter steepled his fingers in front of his face. “I’d like nothing better than to embarrass their smug, conservative asses. Can you stay off the booze long enough to handle this?”
“I’ve been sober 369 days,” Leslie said, scowling. “You took a chance on me and gave me this job. I won’t let you down. You know I’m a damn good investigative reporter.”
“I know you used to be,” Porter said. “Okay, but if you screw this up, I’ll see that you never work in this town again.”
Porter pushed the intercom button and instructed his secretary to book Leslie on the next flight to Austin, Texas. “Tell accounting to cut her a check for her first month’s salary. She’ll pick it up in about ten minutes.”
“I figure you’re flat broke,” Porter said. “Keep track of your expenses. We’ll reimburse you.”
“Thanks.” Leslie tried to appear humble, something that was difficult for her.
Porter scrutinized his newest employee. She was still one hell of a good-looking woman. She was the whole package—brains, beauty, grit, and an instinct for a good story. She had the tenacity of a tiger and would get down in the dirt to get a good story. Rumors of a third death at UT had sent her flying to his office, declaring there was a serial killer loose on the college campus.
“We’ll give you five minutes of airtime every night. Fill it with juicy info, and there may be an anchor spot for you on late-night news. Don’t screw this up, Leslie. If you do, the only place for you will be in a breadline.”
##
Leslie leaned her head back as the big jet tore down the runway, picking up enough speed to catapult it into the sky. She couldn’t wait to see Regan Shaw. A flash of heat zipped through her body as she recalled nights with the sexy brunette. What was I thinking—she chastised herself—trading a bottle of whiskey for nights with Regan?
She licked her lips at the thought of a whiskey shot burning its way down her throat. She quickly returned her thoughts to Regan. She knew this was her last chance at the once-glorious career and loving woman she had thrown away because of alcohol. She had never lost track of Regan, cheering her on from afar as her writing career continued to soar. Now that her own career was about to be back on track, she wanted the only woman she had ever truly loved back in her life.
She was confident Regan would be thrilled to see her and hoped they could pick up where they’d left off.
##
“Dammit!” Regan slung the letter across her desk.
“What’s wrong, Babe?” Brandy said as she entered the room carrying two cups of coffee.
Regan took both cups and placed them on her desk. She took Brandy’s beautiful face between her hands. “What did I tell you about calling me Babe?”
“Err . . . um, that it made you want to throw me on the floor and fu—”—firm lips interrupted her—“me silly.” Brandy finished her statement before pulling Regan into her arms. “Which I’m totally okay with.”
Regan forgot about the letter, the coffee, and everything else in the world except the beauty exploring her body with both hands. “God, you drive me crazy,” she whispered, moaning as Brandy lowered her onto the sofa.
They made love, and Regan dozed off in the warm arms of the woman she adored.
Brandy gently stroked Regan’s back. They had been living together since before Thanksgiving, and she’d loved every minute of it. She couldn’t imagine her life without Regan. Her life before Regan seemed distant, memories that belonged to someone else. She truly couldn’t remember life without the brunette.
Regan stirred, and Brandy kissed the top of her head. “I love everything about you, Babe,” Brandy said. “The way you feel, your scent . . . and, Lord help me, the way you kiss makes me weak in the knees.”
“Obviously you have no effect on me at all,” Regan murmured.
“What were you cursing about when I entered the room?”
“Did I curse?”
“As much as you ever do.” Brandy chuckled. “That’s just one of the many things I like about you. You are every inch a lady.”
“I’m glad I am your lady,” Regan snuggled deeper into Brandy’s arms.
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“I received another rejection notice,” Regan said. “The third one this week. They all love the book but don’t want to get into a legal battle with Night Owl Publishing. Everyone knows I have an ironclad contract with them. They don’t know about the refusal clause and don’t want to take any chances.”
“May I try something?” Brandy asked.
“What?”
“Let me market it on Amazon.”
“Amazon?” Regan pulled back to look into smoldering green eyes. “Only writers who can’t get a publishing house to sign them use Amazon.”
“Au contraire, my dear,” Brandy said in her most sophisticated voice. “One of the great lesfic writers of our time is an indie author and only offers her books on Amazon.”
“She’s a fluke,” Regan snorted.
“No, she’s a hell of a good writer, and people read her books—just like they read yours. She’s one of the top ten bestselling authors this year. She appeals to lesbian and mainstream readers. I’ve studied her marketing strategies, and I think I could do the same thing with your book.”
“I don’t know,” Regan muttered.
“What do you have to lose?”
“My career. What if Mel’s right? What if people stop reading my mainstream books when they find out I’m a raging lesbian?”
“Raging, huh? I like the sound of that.” Brandy scooted under Regan. “Making love to you is often like walking into the eye of a raging storm, and I love it.”
“My book—like my body—is yours,” Regan murmured. “Do whatever you want with them.”
Later, Regan collapsed on Brandy’s body. She lay still, trying to stop the pounding of her heart and catch her breath. “If you’re as good with my book as you are with my body, we should make millions from it.”
“Your book isn’t quite as exciting as your body,” Brandy murmured as she wrapped her arms around Regan and held her tightly. “I just can’t get enough of you.”
“You know the feeling is mutual.” Regan raised her head from Brandy’s chest and inched her body up Brandy’s until their lips were touching. “Never enough!”
##
“What do you have planned for today?” Regan asked as she folded the throw and hung it over the back of the sofa.
“Let me see,” Brandy mused, searching for her bra. “You’ve taken care of items one, two, and three on my list, so we can move on to whatever you’d like. Right now, I’m thinking a cup of hot coffee.”
“The second-best way to start any day.” Regan tiptoed to kiss the blonde, who bent down to meet her lips.
“Why don’t you turn on the weather, and let’s see what kind of day we’re going to have. I’ll make raisin toast and coffee.” Brandy picked up the two cups of cold coffee and headed for the kitchen.
Regan flipped through the channels until she found her favorite meteorologist on one of the top cable TV stations.
The anchor asked viewers to stay with them for the upcoming weather report. Using the usual hook to keep people from channel surfing, he added, “We have a surprise for our viewers after the weather. Don’t touch that remote.”
Brandy joined Regan on the sofa, putting her arm around the brunette and snugging her into her side. They talked as the meteorologist forecast a warm, sunny day. The station cut to a commercial as they finished their toast.