NC-17

by Larissa Reinhart

  For now.

  I was dying to know exactly how Jolene would help Nash with the business.

  We climbed the stairs to the office and found Lamar in the La-Z-Boy. He opened one eye, spotted Oliver filling the room behind me, opened the other, and pushed the recliner into an upright position.

  Oliver introduced himself. Lamar’s eyebrows quirked. He glanced at me, then shook Oliver’s hand.

  “We just came from the hospital,” said Oliver. “Maizie wanted to get some things. She’s staying at the Wellness Center for now.”

  “Is she now?” Lamar looked at me.

  I explained what happened at the cabin and the taking of Lucky.

  “You should be careful, too, Mr. Lamar,” said Oliver.

  “I’m an ex-cop. Don’t worry about me.” He rose from the chair. “Maizie, can I talk to you for a minute? In the office?”

  We walked into the inner office and shut the door.

  “What are you doing?” he said. “I don’t like this situation.”

  “I’m trying to protect Remi and the teens. This is on the down-low, but Mrs. Price was murdered. Wellspring’s the safest place to go.”

  “I think this Oliver is a little too eager to have you there.”

  “I can handle Oliver.” I opened the big drawer in the desk and thumbed through the files. “Nash thinks Wellspring might have something do with Chandler’s disappearance. If I can figure out the motivation for Chandler’s obsession with Wellspring, it might help us to understand what happened to him. I’ll do some digging there. But not literally.”

  “Maizie, I spoke to your probation officer. She called to check in with you.”

  I looked up from my file thumbing. “I’ve done as real as therapy gets with Dr. Trident. And Oliver offered to sign all my community service forms. The numbers are a little fudged, but I was available to work even if they didn’t have anything for me to do.”

  “Here’s what concerns me. Someone recommended you do your community service and therapy at the Wellness Center. It wasn’t Gladys’s original idea.”

  “You think it was Oliver?” I shrugged. “If Oliver pulled strings to get me over at the Wellspring Center, it was just so he’d have a way to see me. He still has feelings for me and wants to make up for what he did.”

  “I can’t keep up with all y’all’s drama.” Lamar shook his head. “Nash and Jolene. You and this Oliver. I liked Detective Mowry, for what it’s worth. He’s a nice guy and a damn good cop.”

  I ignored the nice guy to home in on Jolene. “What’s up with Jolene and the business now? Nash said we shouldn’t worry about it. He said they were working something out.”

  “No idea, hon’.” Lamar patted my shoulder. “Just focus on staying out of the way until ATF nabs these bank robbers. I’m going home. Tomorrow’s coming early, and I want to catch up on sleep now that Nash is awake.”

  I hugged Lamar, wished him good dreams, and finished gathering the files and equipment I needed. In the reception area, I found Oliver on the battered couch, leafing through my copy of People.

  “I’m ready.” I slipped the Smith and Wesson into my belt holster and felt the downward tug on my Jean Atelier jeans.

  Oliver dropped the magazine on the coffee table. “You’re wearing a gun. And it’s pink.”

  “Daddy gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t usually wear a piece. It’s like an investigator thing.”

  He stood up. “That’s kind of sexy.”

  “Um. Okay.” My cheeks burned. “It’s just for protection. Those bank robber dudes were armed.”

  “Right.” He padded toward me, his eyes on my hip where the .38 rested. Reaching me, his gaze traveled slowly up my body. He spoke apologetically but something simmered beneath. “We have a no weapons policy at Wellspring, but you can leave it in my office safe. We’ll go in through the back door and stop there first.”

  “Okey-dokey,” I chirped, trying to get us back into the friend-zone. I ushered him out the door, locked it behind us, then charged down the stairs, skipping the step that sounded like gunfire.

  Oliver approached more slowly. I took the extra time to poke my head into the donut shop. And spotted Young Thug sitting in the corner by the window, watching the street.

  Sitting across from him — with a donut, coffee, and an open computer — was Crispin Jonson.

  Thirty-Nine

  #PeaShootin' #LoversAndMadMen

  I quietly closed the shop’s side door and leaned against it. Oliver’s foot hit the step that made the godawful racket.

  Noticing my cringe, he took the last stairs in a leap. “What’s wrong?”

  Many things. I didn’t know where to start. “The bank bomber guy from Roger Price’s house is in the donut shop. He’s watching the street.” I had to process his table-mate. It would take too long to explain.

  “What do you want to do?”

  My heart jackhammered, and I suddenly had to pee. “Call Ian.”

  Oliver whipped out his phone and handed it to me. Behind my back, the doorknob jiggled.

  “Shizzles.” I grabbed Oliver’s hand and tugged him toward the street door. “He heard the stair. We’ve got to get out of here or we’ll be trapped.”

  I was not ready to shoot anyone. Especially in the tiny foyer of my beloved Dixie Kreme building.

  The donut door pushed open. Oliver and I banged out the street door and shot down the steps. His BMW was parked in front of the donut shop. I yanked him the other way. We ran down the sidewalk. Glancing behind me, I spotted the Dixie Kreme shop door opening.

  “Jolene’s office is around the corner,” I gasped. “We’ll duck inside and call the police.”

  Oliver’s long legs overtook my gallop. Grasping my hand, he pulled me along. We hustled around the corner. He flung open Jolene’s door and yanked me inside. Sienna screamed. I locked the door.

  “Sienna,” I called over my shoulder. “Get in the back room and call the police. Two men, possibly armed, are looking for me. Give the police this location.”

  She screamed again.

  Oliver spun around. “Quiet.”

  Sidling next to the window, I watched the sidewalk. “They’re coming this way. There’s no place to hide.” I flattened against the wall. Oliver slid in next to me. Realizing I hadn’t heard the back office door shut, I glanced at the reception desk.

  Sienna stood behind the desk, pointing her tiny revolver at us. “Get out.”

  “Sienna, just go in the back, lock the door, and call the police.”

  “Jolene said you were absolutely not allowed in this office. You stole our client files. And you’re bringing trouble here just like she said you would.”

  “I’m sorry I tricked you. Can you kick me out when there are not armed and violent men outside?”

  “Out.” She waved the gun. “I loaded the gun this time.”

  “Are you kidding me?” said Oliver. “Jolene Sweeney is crazy. She can’t have you threaten people like this. You’re a nice kid.”

  “Thank you.” Sienna smiled at Oliver then drew her eyebrows together. “But Maizie is also armed. And Jolene said Georgia has ‘stand your ground’ law. If Maizie’s armed, I have the right to defend myself.”

  “Sienna, my gun is in a holster on my belt. I have a concealed carry permit in my pocket. Just call the police and this will all be—”

  A tapping sounded on the window. Sienna screamed.

  Crispin stood in front of the window, peering inside. “Maizie, are you in here? Hey, can I talk to you? Can you come out?”

  Oliver edged in front of me.

  Young Thug elbowed Crispin out of the way and tugged on the door.

  “Get down, Sienna,” I shouted and pulled Oliver to the floor with me.

  I couldn’t watch Sienna and the window at the same time. Crawling backward, I prayed she wouldn’t shoot me in the back. Oliver waited before edging back, using his body to shield me.

  “Oh my God,”
sobbed Sienna. “I know him.”

  Young Thug rattled the door, then pulled his handgun from beneath his shirt. Pointing to the gun, he motioned for us to open the door. Crispin stared at Young Thug for a long moment and took off.

  “What does he want, Maizie?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Sienna still stood behind the desk, holding the revolver and trembling.

  “Get down.” I sprang toward her.

  She screamed and spun, holding the gun in both hands. A shot rang. I dropped to the floor, holding my hands over my ears. Looked up. Sienna’s arms still stuck out rigidly, but the gun drooped in her hand. Her body shook, and her eyes had swallowed her face.

  I leaped from the floor and threw myself at her, knocking her to the ground. Beneath me, she didn’t move, but her body continued to quiver.

  “Oliver,” I cried. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m okay. What about you?”

  “Sienna and I are okay. We’re behind the desk. What’s going on?”

  “She shot a hole in the wall. The guys took off.”

  “Holy shiz.” I pried the gun from her hand and rolled off Sienna. Stared at the ceiling. Sienna began crying. I patted her back. “They’re gone.”

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” she cried.

  “I’m leaving. In a minute.”

  Oliver appeared above me. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Jolene’s going to kill me,” she howled.

  Probably.

  “You did good, kid,” I said, using Nash’s line. “Look, Jolene didn’t prepare you for this exact situation. Next time, maybe duck and cover? But everyone’s alive and the bad guys are gone.”

  Bad guys. I jerked to sitting. What was Crispin doing with a bank robber? “Sienna, you said you knew that guy. Which one?”

  “Chandler Jonson’s brother. He was a senior when I was a freshman. He was on the morning announcements all the time.”

  Hang on. Crispin went to Black Pine High School? He and Roger were the same age. “Did you know Roger Price?”

  She shook her head. “I want to go home.”

  “The police are on their way.” Oliver held out his hand to me.

  I gave Sienna another pat, then took Oliver’s hand and let him pull me to my feet. He swung me into his body. His arms wrapped around me and pressed me into his chest.

  “Maizie. You were incredible. I never thought you could be like this. I mean, I’ve seen you do action scenes on your shows, but I had no idea you could do it in real life.”

  I let him squeeze me for a second more, allowed my head to rest against his chest, and permitted myself to be calmed by the erratic beating of his heart. I slid my hands up his chest and looked into his warm brown eyes. Which had grown even warmer.

  Which spelled trouble.

  I pushed away. “Oliver, I’ve got to get out here.”

  “The police—”

  “That will take forever. Can you stay here with Sienna until the police come?”

  “But Maizie—” His eyebrows pulled together, and his hands tightened on my waist. “They’re still out there. And what will the police say?”

  “I’m sorry, Oliver. But I need a Black Pine High School yearbook. And I need it now.”

  Sienna popped up. “I have them at my house. Let me call my mom and she’ll bring them. What year do you want?”

  * * *

  Sienna’s mom arrived with the yearbooks and found her daughter wrapped in a victim’s blanket, giving the police her witness testimony. Her mom dropped the yearbooks into my arms, rushed to her daughter’s side, and began sobbing.

  Sienna gave her an “Oh my God, Mom,” and continued her interview.

  Jolene arrived thirty minutes later. Upon her entry, Sienna’s mother darted toward the door, screaming obscenities, and swearing Sienna would never work for her again. An officer grabbed the mother so Jolene could hightail it into the back office.

  “God, Mom,” said Sienna. “Could you be more embarrassing?”

  Sitting next to me, Ian Mowry muttered under his breath while I poured through the senior class photos. Oliver stood a little distance away, also watching me. His glazed expression made me wish my concealed carry had been a little more concealed.

  I’d found Roger Price in the yearbook. Robotics Club. AV Club. His senior quote was, “I can’t think of anything. Just put whatever.”

  Crispin Jonson was on another page. Senior quote, “You’re going to regret not dating me in high school.” Thespian society. Drama Club. And AV Club.

  “Get the data from Crispin’s video games,” I said. “I bet he and Roger were on the same kill teams. They play the same battle games.”

  “No sign of the third guy, though?” Ian pulled out his phone and began texting. “Agent Langtry is leading a perimeter search right now. But if they were parked near the Dixie Kreme and were careful in their getaway, they had enough time to get out of town.”

  “There’s still the older guy from the Price’s house. Maybe Roger will tell me something he won’t tell Agent Langtry. Especially since I know Crispin.”

  “If Langtry gives the okay, I’ll take you to the jail in the morning. You’re not her favorite person. Neither am I. But I’ll do my best.” He lowered his voice. “You know what this confirms. They are watching you.”

  “And I’ve put Lamar in danger if they’re spying on the shop.”

  “I’m not worried about Lamar, I’m worried about you.” He glanced at Oliver. “I thought you were staying at Wellspring and not the office.”

  “I was getting a few things for Nash. Oliver was going to drive me to Wellspring when we spotted Crispin and the other guy.”

  “I see.” Ian flicked his gaze back to me. He looked disappointed.

  I felt like I was in a local production of A Midsummer’s Night Dream. But I wasn’t sure if I was Hermia or Helena.

  Or worse, Nick Bottom.

  Forty

  #DisarminglyDisarmed #UnscriptedSkulking

  By the time Oliver and I reached Wellspring, my last burst of adrenaline had sapped the rest of my strength. In Oliver’s office, I dragged my Smith and Wesson from the holster and handed it to him.

  Watching him lock it his office safe, I felt a strange resentment at having to part with the revolver. I rarely wore it. Never wanted to use it. But I didn’t like handing it over like this.

  After locking the safe, Oliver turned to me. “Do you want to go to your room now?”

  “Very much.” I yawned to emphasize my point.

  “Or would you rather stay in my apartment? I’d feel better. Your safety is my top priority.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was my safety that was his top priority. And I never realized a pink gun could be such a turn on.

  “Isn’t safety why I’m here?” I said. “With all the fences and cameras? But if you’re really worried, just let me keep my .38. I’ll sleep with it under my pillow. Because that’s all I really want to do. Sleep.”

  He padded toward me. “I can’t let you keep the gun. House rules. I have an extra bedroom. It’s cozy and comfy. Egyptian cotton sheets and a feather duvet. I’ll make us crepes in the morning with strawberries from the greenhouse. And coffee in my French press.”

  Oliver had a menu that could tempt Satan. “I could sleep on plywood and rocks. That’s how tired I am.”

  “I can see the exhaustion. But you’re looking better than you did this morning. Let me take care of you some more.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and began kneading the knotted muscles. “I’m just thinking of your comfort.”

  “Oliver, I’m not getting back together with you. You hurt me too much. Badly enough that I let Vicki talk me into getting engaged to Giulio.”

  Oliver stopped kneading and dropped his hands. “But Giulio’s engaged to Vicki.”

  “That’s how messed up my life has become.” Or maybe it already was, but that wasn’t the point.

  “But—” Oliver pressed his lips together and hung
his head. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

  I touched his arm. He really was trying. “I’m sorry, too.”

  * * *

  In my room, the bed was not made of plywood and rocks. Like Oliver’s offered guest room, it also had Egyptian cotton sheets and a feather duvet.

  What it did not contain was me sleeping. I stared at the ceiling. Then stared out the window at the beautifully landscaped plaza. Noted that from my fourth-floor room, the positioning of the gym, other buildings, and flower dunes created a visual barrier to the barren area and giant walled garden. Which bugged me.

  Crispin’s involvement in a bank robbery also gnawed at me. Or at least, his role as a friend to a possible accomplice and robber. Crispin, whose brother was still missing. Whose brother was obsessed with Wellspring’s back forty.

  If I was safe from bank robbers at Wellspring, I could get on with my actual case. Which conveniently meant snooping around Wellspring.

  I dressed in Stella McCartney for Adidas. Black. With matching sneakers since I’d ruined my Golden Gooses. Slipped my ponytail through a black Barney’s baseball cap. Perfectly on point for skulking.

  The hall was lit and full of security cameras, so I ambled with purpose. Like I had decided on a late night bout of exercise. That anyone who knew me would find suspicious. But still.

  In the elevator, I jogged in place. Keeping up the exercise appearances. On the first floor, I skirted the reception area and ducked into the west wing hall. Strode toward Oliver’s office door. Pretended to knock and tried the knob. Locked.

  Good. He was in his apartment.

  I sauntered towards the security office. Knocked. And found it also locked.

  Which it should be, considering the gun safe inside.

  I needed to ask Oliver to let me look at the security videos again. Although spending time alone with Oliver was becoming an issue. He was eager to help me. Which was a nice change. And it wasn’t his fault that he was gorgeous.

  Hang on.

  It wasn’t his fault our shared history meant he knew how to please me. And he was available. Whereas other people were not so much.