Betta leaned back in her chair and stared into space as she basked in her pleasurable thoughts of her good day. She nearly patted herself on the back for a job well done. She’d gotten a lot done in a short period of time. She’d saved the female gender from a great deal of potential heartache today by taking out four womanizing man whores. The corners of her mouth twitched upward. She couldn’t suppress her smile even if she tried. Sheer excitement rushed through her veins at the speed of light. She had one last trick up her sleeve to pull off before the clock struck midnight, and she was in the perfect position to get it done.
* * * *
A uniformed officer entered the interrogation room and cuffed Bethany, but not before she blew a kiss in the direction of the two-way mirror, winked, and mouthed, “All for you, Spinelli.”
Her words were unmistakable.
Hysterical laughter rang from her lips as the officer guided her out of the room and took her to holding. The shrill pitch echoing in the precinct was deafening.
Marsh caught Spinelli’s gaze and shook his head. “She’s one hell of a crazy bitch.”
All eyes drifted to the Captain as she entered the room. Marsh informed her of Bethany’s last actions in the interrogation room. Jackson nodded. She didn’t seem surprised.
A few beats of silence passed. He was sure the others were of like mind. Just when they’d thought they’d seen everything something like this happens.
Jackson broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, I guess our work is done here.” Her gaze shifted to Spinelli. “I’m sorry, Nick.”
“Me, too.”
She glanced at her watch. “I can’t believe the time already. So much for our Valentine’s Day. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Jackson hadn’t taken two steps away from them before they heard the 911 page come through from holding. They were calling for medical assistance.
Spinelli ran in that direction. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who the call was for. Walker, Marsh, and Jackson were on his heels.
The young night-shift officer guarding holding buzzed them through in stride. They stopped in front of Bethany’s cell. She lay convulsing on the floor in her vomit. Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head. The acidic stench of her vomit scorched Spinelli’s lungs.
Within seconds, the EMTs pushed their way through. The officer attempting to help Bethany rose to her feet and stepped out of their way.
“What happened?” the older of the EMTs asked the officer.
“I don’t know...I locked her in the cell and started walking away. I hadn’t taken but a few steps before she began to cough. I looked back at her to find her face already as red as a fire truck. Then she vomited several times, fell to the floor, and started convulsing. At that point, I called for you guys.”
The EMT looked at Spinelli. He stood the closest to them. Jackson, Walker, and Marsh had been smart enough to keep more distance between themselves and the cell. Spinelli swiped his sweaty palms over his thighs. Sweat beaded on his temples and upper lip. His mind was telling him what to say, but it was as if the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. The EMT’s look intensified, snapping him back into reality.
“Cyanide. She may have poisoned herself.”
Bethany’s body suddenly stilled. The EMTs strapped oxygen to her and loaded her onto the stretcher. Within seconds they were gone.
With the exception of Shannon, who still waited in the lunchroom for Spinelli, they all gathered in Jackson’s tiny office awaiting the news on Bethany. Minutes later Jackson’s desk phone rang. All eyes shifted to her.
“Captain Jackson...uh huh...I see...okay.”
Her sympathetic brown-eyed gaze landed on Spinelli. She didn’t need to speak for him to know the outcome, but she did anyhow.
“Bethany died en route.”
Though that had likely been Bethany’s plan all along, it didn’t make Spinelli feel any better.
Chapter Fourteen
Shannon sat quietly in the passenger seat of Spinelli’s truck, staring out the windshield. She hadn’t said a word since he told her about the interview with Bethany and her untimely death. He was sure Shannon blamed him for this disastrous day.
Outside of waking up with her in his bed, not one thing went as planned. He thought about the ring in his pocket. There was no way he could attempt to go there now, maybe not ever. A sharp pain sliced through his heart at the thought, but he was simply bad news for her. She’d probably never forgive him anyway no less accept a proposal from him. She deserved better.
He parked his truck, sprang out, and hustled around to the passenger side to get the door for her. When he opened the door, she didn’t move. It’s like she was in a trance.
“Shannon, sweetheart, you’re home.”
She flinched. “What?” she asked as she turned her head in his direction. Her eyes still watered.
Spinelli extended his hand toward her. “We’re here, come on. Let’s get you inside.”
Without hesitation, she slipped her hand into his. That had to be a good sign. What was he thinking? It would be so much easier to walk away from her if she blamed him and pushed him away. Then he wouldn’t have to be strong about it. He could just take his beating, tuck his tail between his legs, and go home to wallow in self-pity.
He ran his fingers over the numeric keypad next to the glass door of her apartment building. She’d given him the code weeks ago. The buzzer sounded, and he pushed the door open for her to pass through.
He recalled the first time he held that door for her, a mere couple of months ago. She’d tried to brush him off in that very spot, but he ignored her attempt and proceeded to walk her all the way to her apartment door. Before he was able to leave, she invited him in for some of the gingerbread cookies she’d baked the night before. Well, maybe she didn’t exactly invite him in willingly. Her cute, little, old neighbors may have played matchmaker that night. But nonetheless, he was invited in for cookies. He knew, without doubt, that very night, his life would never be the same.
He stifled a chuckle. Though now was not the time for laughing, he couldn’t help himself as he recalled the craziness he’d undergone over the past two months since he’d met her. He’d gone undercover as Santa Claus to protect her and catch a killer, and today he found himself dressed as cupid and singing freaking love songs to love-struck strangers for Valentine’s Day. He never thought he’d see the day. He glanced at Shannon as she kept pace at his side as they walked down the long narrow corridor toward her apartment door. Her small warm fingers wove perfectly with his.
He’d do it all over again if need be, dress as Santa and listen to a thousand whiny kids as they rattled off their Christmas lists. Dress as cupid and sing to love-struck starry-eyed people all day long. For chrissake, he’d dress as a freaking leprechaun and search the world high and low for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow if she wanted him to. He was a hopeless case. He’d never be able to walk away from her on his own.
Fear shot through his veins. What would he do if she walked away from him? How would he ever get her to forgive him for the mess he’d caused today?
Shannon fumbled through her purse and surfaced with her apartment door key a moment later. Her hands shook as she tried to enter it into the key slot. Evidently, the day had taken its toll on her. Though she was no longer engaged to Meyers, she once was close to him, and though she’d only dated the others for short periods of time, she had to be devastated by the mere thought that a crazy woman’s jealousy of her had caused their deaths.
Spinelli’d give his right arm if he could go back in time and change the events of the day. Shannon turned the key, but before she could open the door, the apartment door behind them opened. Mrs. Finch stuck her head out. “Is that you dear?” she asked as her thin-lipped smile stretched from ear to ear. “No doubt it is. I can tell from that glorious smell you have your handsome friend with you tonight as well,” she added with a wink.
He liked Mrs. Fi
nch. She was a sweet little old lady who was always happy and bubbly, just like Mrs. Knight, her sister, who lived with her. Though Mrs. Finch was nearly blind, it didn’t seem to slow her down any.
The shuffle of feet sounded behind Mrs. Finch. Mrs. Knight surfaced in the doorway as well. Not only were they identical twins, they still, after decades, dressed the same and wore their hair the same as well. The ladies stood before them wearing their plush-looking pink bathrobes belted at their tiny waists. Their petite feet were covered in matching pink slippers. Curlers held their steel-gray hair in place, their smiles resembled one another, and the sparkle in their eyes was identical.
Shannon smiled softly at her neighbors. “You ladies are up kind of late tonight.”
The two women shared a giggle, and even that sounded the same. “We got caught up in the Johnny Carson marathon on TV. He’s so funny. I just love when he plays that ‘Carnac the Magnificent’ character,” Mrs. Finch beamed. She was the talker of the two.
A look of realization crossed Shannon’s face. “Oh my gosh. I almost forgot. Happy Birthday. Hold on a second, I’ll be right back,” Shannon said as she disappeared into her apartment and returned a moment later with a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps in one hand and a bag of specialty Irish Cream coffee in the other. She handed the bottle to Mrs. Finch and the bag to Mrs. Knight. Though the women looked and dressed the same, the choice of Shannon’s gifts to them made complete sense to Spinelli.
Spinelli stepped toward Mrs. Knight, leaned over, and gave her a little peck on the cheek, “Happy Birthday.” He stepped toward Mrs. Finch and did the same. “So how old are you lovely ladies now, fifty?”
Mrs. Finch reached up and placed her cold, frail, bony hand on his cheek and gave it a little pat. “Always a charmer.” She shifted her glance in Shannon’s direction. “A real keeper this one.” She turned her attention back to him. “And that would be ninety. A young ninety.”
He was shocked. He knew they were old, but he hadn’t realized exactly how old. “Ninety,” he repeated. “What’s your secret?”
She patted him on the cheek again. “Good clean living and a shot of Peppermint Schnapps over ice every night right before you go to bed.” She winked. “It keeps the pipes fresh.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. Perhaps he should give it a try.
Mrs. Knight reached into her pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to Shannon. “Can you pick these up for us tomorrow?”
Spinelli caught a glimpse of the note. It was their grocery list. Shannon acted as their caretaker. The poor old ladies had no one else, but Shannon didn’t seem to mind. Her sweet, caring nature was just one of the many things he loved about her, proving once again she was just too good for him.
Shannon glanced at the list. “Absolutely. Not a problem.”
“Great,” Mrs. Knight replied before she reached over and tugged on her sister’s arm. “Come on Sister, it’s late. Time to let these kids get on with their Valentine’s evening.”
Spinelli wished the ladies goodnight before they headed back into their apartment. Then he turned toward Shannon. “This has been quite the day. You must be exhausted.”
She simply nodded. Her big green eyes grabbed hold of him. He couldn’t seem to move. He knew he needed to leave right this second. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to, and he’d just prolong the inevitable— the fact that he couldn’t burden her with himself. The thought made him sick, but he needed to be strong and do it for her. It was for the best.
His feet made a slight shift forward, almost as if they had a mind of their own. He willed them to stop. If he stepped any closer to her, he’d kiss her on her warm soft inviting lips. He loved her full lips, and her sweet tasting mouth, which over the past couple of months had become solely his for the taking, or so he’d thought.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t think. He was a selfish man. He wanted her so bad. He took a step back and realigned his thoughts. He needed to go—now. He expelled a breath. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”
He turned quickly and took a step while he still had the strength. It worked until he heard his name roll off her sweet tongue. His feet froze in place. Her hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. An electrical current whipped through his veins, nearly knocking him over. It was the same sensation he’d experienced the first time she’d ever touched him. He remembered it vividly.
Don’t turn around, Spinelli. Don’t do it. Stay strong for her. You’ve caused her too much grief. She’s too good for you. Be the bigger person here. Let her go.
He heard her sigh. “Nick, don’t do this. I know what you’re thinking, and it isn’t true. You’re not responsible for any of this. This was not your fault. Bethany did it. Not you.”
He didn’t budge. He tried, but his feet wouldn’t move. And he felt relieved that she didn’t know what he fully thought.
She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a good person, Nick. No matter what you think, I want you to know right here and now that you are the finest person I know.”
Tears stung the back of his eyes. She had no idea what those words meant to him just now. Never in his life had anyone ever said anything like that to him. Having grown up on the wrong side of the tracks, nobody ever felt such things or stated them with such conviction.
He spun to face her. The sea of green staring back at him swallowed him whole. His heart fluttered. He was done. He reached toward her and pulled her to him. He pressed his lips to her soft moist mouth. Her arms wrapped around his neck. Her fingers wove through his hair. The soft touch of her fingertips sent his every nerve ending screaming for more attention. She parted her lips, inviting him into her gorgeous, full mouth. He slowly caressed her tongue, savoring her sweet taste and every moment as if it were his last.
He reached out and pushed her apartment door open and eased her inside without breaking contact. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to separate his lips from hers even if he’d tried. He kicked the door shut behind him and eased her backward through the living room, down the hall, and into her bedroom. His hungry mouth never leaving hers. His tongue exploring every inch of her mouth seeking out every last bit of her tantalizing flavor.
Finally, the magnetism of their lips lightened, and he pulled his lips from hers. She stood before him wearing nothing but red silk panties, a matching pushup bra, and her tall red boots. His heart skipped a beat. He loved her undergarments. They were nothing like the conservative clothing she wore on the outside; always so prim and proper at work.
He eyed her. She had the most beautiful body. Her pale skin contrasted to what little red clothing remained on her. His thoughts shifted to the purchase he’d made earlier in the day at Madam Layla’s Lingerie Shop. The package containing the hot pink fur-lined garment, wrist cuffs, and rose tipped whip lay on the seat of his truck. He examined her again. He didn’t need the package. All he needed was her.
He reached toward her and in one quick flick of his finger and thumb the soft silky garment holding her breasts in place flung open, releasing her pale-skinned, perky breasts. They bounced slightly. The small raspberry tips were already taut, waiting for his touch. His lips begged him to wrap them around the budded tips. His mouth watered copiously.
Almost as if she’d read his mind, she shrugged her shoulders free from the straps of her bra, and it floated to the floor then she reached up and pulled his head to her breast. He easily let her. His willing lips wrapped around her breast. His teeth tugged lightly at her nipple. He pushed his tongue against its stiff point. The rich fragrance coming off her skin intoxicated him. He needed more of her. His mouth drifted to her other breast and performed the same, slow, gratifying maneuver. A soft groan escaped her lips. His own pleasure grew from hers. His lips burned with delight.
He slowly worked his mouth upward until it reached the hollow of her throat. He ran his tongue over it. Her pulse fluttered against his tongue. He hadn’t thought it possible to become more turned on or to fall deeper in love
with this green-eyed angel, but the incalculable depth of intensity that rushed through his veins as her pulse thudded against his tongue proved him wrong.
He skimmed his lips upward, over her jaw, not stopping until he found her luscious mouth. He took possession of it, kissing her hard and deep. He swallowed her soft sigh. If he hadn’t already been hard as a rock, the sound of her sigh stifled in his throat surely would have done the trick.
Shannon skimmed her small warm hands over his shoulders, down his back, and under the waistband of his boxers. The burning sensation that trailed her fingertips intensified with each passing moment. If she kept it up any longer, he’d probably burst into flames.
She pulled her lips from his, leaned over, and retrieved a condom from the drawer of her nightstand. He watched as her small fingers tore the package open. She’d better hurry.
Her tiny hands sheathed him. Oddly, her sheathing him was always the most erotic experience for him. His body begged for release, yet he knew he had work to do first. He willed himself to recapture his control.
He slid his hand under the slim waistband of her silky red panties and slowly dragged them down her legs. She stepped out of them. She still wore her tall, red, spike-heeled boots. She reached for the zipper of her boot. He grabbed her hand. “Leave them on,” he whispered. He wanted to feel the leather wrapped around him.
She smiled and nodded, then lay down on the bed.
He climbed in beside her and watched her as she slowly ran her tongue over her ruby red lips. He leaned toward her and claimed her mouth with his. All control was lost. He cupped her breast. It fit perfectly in his hand. He messaged both breasts before running his hand over her smooth flat stomach. He slid his hand down further, finding her wet and ready for him. Her throaty moan rang in his ears. He couldn’t wait any longer. He was greedy, so greedy. He positioned himself on top of her and slid himself inside her. Her warmth surrounded him both physically and emotionally. It was as if madness overcame him. He drove deeper into her.
Craving Vengeance, a Nick Spinelli Mystery Page 12