Enfold (Thornhill Trilogy Book 3)

by J. J. Sorel

  Clarissa threw me one of her sultry looks, and I felt like myself again. She had that power over me. Her moods were my moods.

  “I’m going up for a loud session with Ferrari. Dinner in an hour?”

  Clary looked at Tabitha. “We should be done by then. Can Tabi stay for dinner? And have James drive her home?”

  “You bet.” I looked at Tabitha and smiled.

  “Thanks.” She smiled sweetly.

  *****

  During dinner, there was no talk of Jessica. Only the wedding plans and silly little banter about nothing much, which was what the doctor ordered. I was too weighed down to get into intense discussion.

  When I walked Tabitha to the gate, where James awaited, I said, “Hey, I’m really grateful that you came by to spend time with Clarissa.”

  “She’s my sister. I’d do anything for her,” she said in a rare serious tone.

  “I know that. That’s why I came to you. Has she said anything? I mean, is she really okay?”

  “She told me everything that happened. She was pretty freaked out. But I reminded her that you were the catch of the century and that you’d protect her.”

  I laughed. “Thanks for that.”

  “Anytime. And look, I hope that you’re okay over the Brad thing in New York,” she said.

  “I stopped judging people’s bedroom behavior a long time ago. I am a possessive, jealous, and some would say controlling man. I could never be with a woman who played around. My father, however, is a different beast.”

  She nodded. “Thanks, Aidan. That makes me feel better. Grant knows. I told him. I couldn’t tell how he felt about it, though. He’s hard to read in that way. In any case, he lives in the present. He doesn’t look back or too far forward.”

  “That’s my dad. He’s a day by day sort of guy. I’m not sure where my need to know and control the future comes from.”

  “We’re all individuals, Aidan. We’re not our parents.”

  I nodded slowly. “No, we’re not.”

  On that note, I kissed Tabitha on the cheek and left her with James.

  I sprinted back to my angel, who I hoped would be waiting for me pantyless so that I could ravage her.

  My mother entered my thoughts causing my legs to stiffen. What was I going to do about her? She’d hear about the wedding and probably crash it in that forceful way of hers, causing a ruckus.

  I cooked up a plan to offer her a holiday in the Bahamas or, more to her taste, an extended stay in Las Vegas. Or I could just have her at the wedding, acting in her drunken, loudmouthed manner, making the guests grimace and whisper amongst themselves. The thought of which, for some twisted reason, made me laugh.

  I found Clarissa on the chaise longue, reading, an image that nourished my spirit and always brought a smile to my face.

  She wore a silk gown that my fingers craved to undo so that I that I could touch her warm, softness.

  Clarissa must have sensed my burning gaze. She looked up, and her big, dark eyes moved from sweet to sultry in a blink.

  She moved over and made room for me. We gazed into each other’s eyes, and all the drama from the previous day evaporated.

  My hand caressed her shoulder, then traveled down to her waist and untied the silky gown. It dripped off her. My hands landed on a lacy little number that barely covered that cock-swelling body.

  I left a trail of kisses along her soft neck all the way to her soft lips. She tasted of cherries.

  A fire built furiously. I was going to come on the spot.

  I lifted her in my arms and placed her on the bed. I parted her thighs. “You look scrumptious,” I murmured, removing my clothes.

  My cock was so hard and dribbling with need that it ached.

  Running her tongue over her lips, Clarissa gazed at my throbbing cock. She was just as hungry as I was. Good.

  “Do you want me to turn, you know on all fours?” she asked with that breathy, aroused voice that was making my balls blue.

  “Baby, I’ll take you any way. But yeah, sure. Do you like it that way?”

  She nodded with a shy little smile. That was the end of me. I turned her over, ripped off her lace panties, and tongued her until she trembled in my arms and spurted cream into my mouth. She tasted like honey. An addictive, cock-tormenting flavor.

  I couldn’t wait. I pushed the head of my cock into her. As always, it was a struggle to get in. But boy, it was a struggle my cock loved and couldn’t get enough of.

  Inching into her, I took it slowly, mainly because I didn’t want to blow yet. We hadn’t made love for a day, and my needy cock was palpitating.

  “I don’t know if I can last. You’re so fucking tight, it’s almost torture,” I said, barely able to talk properly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, a moan kissing my ear as I inched in deeper.

  “Don’t be sorry, angel. You feel fucking exquisite. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

  Her ass pushed hard against my balls. That was enough for me. My cock thrust in so deeply I hit a spot that made her cry out. I could not tell if it was pain or pleasure.

  “Are you okay?” I could barely get that out. My cock was all hot and throbbing and sending me off to some lusty heaven as her heavy breasts jiggled in my hands.

  “Go hard, Aidan, please.”

  That breathy voice added to the erotic package that was Clarissa. A serious eruption brewed.

  It only took a few thrusts, and the tension that had ransomed my body exploded in a fury of blood-hot seed. Stars exploded behind my eyes, a savage groan grew louder and louder, as I emptied deeply into the love of my life.

  I fell on my back, my heart pounding against my chest. My darling by my side, equally breathless.

  We stared at the ceiling, waiting to regain our senses.

  I took Clarissa into my arms. “Sorry that was so quick. In the morning. Promise.”

  “It was perfect. Just like you, Aidan.”

  I kissed her deeply, drinking from her lips the elixir I needed for a peaceful rest.

  We fell asleep with our bodies enfolded together as one.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CLARISSA

  What an image Aidan made, walking about shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned as he looked for his phone. I lounged back and enjoyed the show, every delicious sinew flexed and powering along, his rippling abs and those large, muscular arms that had crushed me with affection earlier. He ran his fingers through his hair, just as I had done earlier that morning when he’d been between my legs, devouring me and sending me off to carnal heaven again.

  He glanced at me. “What?”

  I shrugged. “You look so damn sexy like that, shirtless and your butt in those jeans.”

  He smiled sweetly. “Are you objectifying me, Clarissa Moone?”

  “Yes, you could say that. But it’s for your benefit because you make me all creamy when I see you like that.”

  He stopped what he was doing. “Clarissa, I’ve seriously got to go, and I’ve lost my phone. You’re making me hard again.”

  The phone buzzed. It had fallen under the covers. I bent forward and picked it up. “Here it is.”

  “Thanks, princess.” He took it from me, passing me one of his knock-out twinkle-eyed smiles.

  “Thornhill,” he said in his deep professional voice.

  I sat up and watched him. He turned his back to me and ran his fingers through his hair, which told me that it was serious.

  “All right. Sure. I’ll be there.”

  He turned. His eyes had gone dark.

  I swallowed. “What?”

  “It’s Chris,” he said, looking stunned. “They’ve found him dead.”

  My body sprang up, and my jaw fell open. “What? How?” I jumped out of bed.

  “A needle. They found a needle in his arm. He overdosed. The police went there to get a statement about Jessica, and that’s how they found him.”

  “Oh my God, Aidan. It’s foul play. I know it is.”

&nb
sp; He nodded. “Yeah, that’s the first thing that hit me. Look, I’ve got to go now.”

  I was looking for my clothes. My head was swimming in a million directions. Tears were pouring down my cheeks. “I want to come with you, Aidan.”

  “No, baby, please. This is messy shit. They need me to look at the body. He’s got no family.” His face was a crumpled mess, a mirror of my emotions.

  Tears continued to fall freely on my face. Aidan came and held me.

  “I know. He was a good guy. Such a fucking talent, such a fucking waste.” He pulled away. His face had gone red. “If Jessica’s behind this, I’ll make sure they slam her away and throw away the fucking key.”

  “Aidan, it is her. I’m convinced. Chris admitted to me once that he dabbled in heroin. But he assured me that he was always really careful with it and, unlike other junkies, didn’t shoot up all the time.”

  “Yeah, he said something like that to me, too. Look, baby, I have to run. I’ll call you. I promise.”

  He pulled a T-shirt over his head and left in a hurry.

  After that, I remained frozen like a zombie. All I could do was sit on the balcony and stare out onto the grounds and to the sea, as if seeking counsel from nature. One thing was for sure, I was glad to be staring at trees and not the grimy backstreets of LA.

  When my phone buzzed, I jumped. I lifted my heavy body and looked down at the screen, which showed Aidan’s beautiful face as the phone vibrated.

  “Hi,” I said, my heart pumped quicker than usual again.

  “Hey, princess.” He took a deep breath. “I’m still at the station. I’m waiting for the detective.”

  “Did you see him?” I asked, my voice betraying a tremor.

  “Yeah. It wasn’t pretty. Although…”

  “What?” I asked.

  “He looked peaceful. You know? Not it any pain. Strange.” He sniffed. “Chris had that look he got when he was poking his tongue out at people. Do you know the look I mean?”

  “You mean that I-don’t-give-a-shit expression of his?” I said, my breaking as a lump settled in my throat.

  “Yeah, that one. Fuck, Clarissa.” His voice trembled.

  “Aidan, do you think he was murdered?”

  “I’ve heard they’ve already cleaned up the scene. I don’t know. I think the cops are in on it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. They don’t want to do an autopsy. They’re convinced he overdosed. When I asked about the syringe, they just dismissed it.”

  “No autopsy? But that’s not right. Aren’t they meant to?”

  “According to the head cop, the fact that Chris was a junkie didn’t justify an autopsy. They said that they don’t have that kind of funding. I offered to pay for one. But they said that only family could arrange one and I’m not family.”

  “Hell.” I found myself suddenly frustrated and angry about how society judged people too quickly, and unfairly.

  “Did he mention any family to you?” asked Aidan.

  “I asked once. He said he was an only child and that his mother and father were dead. In a fire, I think.”

  The line went dead.

  “Are you there, Aidan?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “Look Clarissa, I have to go. Hudson’s arrived. I’ll speak to you as soon as I’ve spoken to him, okay, beautiful girl?”

  “Okay. I love you, Aidan.”

  He drew a sharp breath in. “And I love you more than anything in this world, angel.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  AIDAN

  “Pull up a seat,” the detective said.

  I jumped straight into it. “I believe Chris Wilde was murdered.”

  He nodded slowly. “Probably.”

  I shrugged and held my hands out. “What does that mean?”

  “Look, Aidan, I’ve spoken to the chief of police. They’re not taking it further.”

  “But you agree it was foul play.”

  The older man, whose face had more lines than a map, looked back at me with a deadpan expression.

  I wasn’t going to take that poker-faced nothingness as an answer. I sat forward. “Did they analyze the syringe for fingerprints?”

  “Aidan, I believe it’s a closed case. The department doesn’t like spending money on junkies.”

  “Chris was more than a fucking junkie.” My voice trembled. “He was probably one of the country’s finest artists. I’ve seen plenty, and the guy had fucking talent dripping off him. He also helped a bunch of vets by inspiring them out of their torn shells to create great art. He has done more for this country than many that I know of.”

  He nodded slowly. “We can’t do an autopsy unless there’s some evidence of tampering. Or unless his family demands it. He has no family, Aidan.”

  I removed a checkbook from my pocket. “How much do you want? I’ll pay for it.”

  “Put it away. It’s not going to happen.” There was something in his face that showed frustration.

  “Why? What do you know, Detective? Look, if I have to hire my own private dick, I will, you know? I already contracted one when that body washed up.”

  “Yeah, that was timely. The FBI had a file this long on him.” His arm stretched out.

  “A hitman, yeah, and we know who hired him, don’t we?” My tone had gone acrid.

  “That’s impossible to prove.”

  “Why? I mean, you knew this dude was a contracted killer. Surely you’ve been able to study his digital footprint.”

  “That’s the FBI. They’re not letting us in on it. But I can tell you he covered his tracks well. Have you heard of the deep, dark web?”

  “Of course, I have. Drug dealers, sleazy assholes like pedophiles and the like,” I said.

  “It’s more than that. There’s all kinds of sons of bitches in there, plying and peddling their nasty wares. Including hitmen. That’s where they get their contracts. It’s so complex that even the FBI can’t crack it.”

  “Are you telling me you have nothing on Jessica Mansfield? Apart from the kidnapping incident. You’ve got evidence of that, don’t you? Or has that been whitewashed, as well?” Rage burned in my voice.

  He stared at me long and hard. In his eyes, I saw an empty shell of a man who I suspected had seen it all and had chosen a cave to hide himself in.

  “I’m going to tell you something, Aidan. It didn’t come from me.”

  “What?”

  “John Mansfield’s got the head of the LAPD on his payroll. He’s one of those seriously rich guys that can buy himself and his daughter out of trouble.”

  “Well then, I’m one of those fucking seriously rich guys who can and will buy fucking justice,” I said, slapping his desk.

  My eyes remained locked on his dismissive, weakened visage. Dogged determination impelled me to stay put. I wasn’t leaving that office until I was given something.

  He nodded pensively. “Fingerprints had been wiped on the syringe.”

  His eyes pierced me with something hard to read. Finally, he gave me a way in.

  “Then what are we going to do, Detective? Do I have to bring in my own investigator? Or are you happy to take my cash and deliver justice the way it should be delivered—honestly? Surely that’s why you exist in this role—to bring down crooked assholes?”

  His lips turned up at one side. “That’s why I joined. But this place is littered with crooked cops, all the way up. I know that well enough. I also know that John Mansfield has plenty of blood on his greasy, well-manicured hands. He’s involved with a cartel from Columbia. He’s my little secret mission. Secret because the department will shut it down if it knows I’m casing him.”

  I opened the checkbook and wrote a check for fifty thousand dollars. “Here, for your campaign. But you must promise to find the fucker that killed Chris.”

  He took the check and looked at it for a long while before passing it back to me. “No. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I joined the police force for good. I don’t want to be like t
hose assholes on the take.”

  I took the check back. “I want his head on a block, Detective.” I stood up. “I will not stop until he and that daughter of his have their day in court.”

  Hudson stretched back his arms. “Leave it to me. I’ve got a few contacts and a few good cops on my side.”

  I rose. “I want to arrange a proper funeral for Chris.”

  He stared at me for a moment, as if he was trying to figure me out. “You’ll have to arrange that through the mortuary. I’ll get those details to you later today.”

  *****

  Chris’s studio was crammed with wall-to-wall people. I’d decided to have the service there. At first, Clarissa tried to convince me to have it at a chapel, but I argued that Chris was too much of an atheist and that he’d be pissed off. Clarissa nodded with a faint smile as we recalled the late artist’s scathing cynicism toward religion.

  Dressed in a black dress that did nothing to hide her beauty, Clarissa came to me. She’d been working tirelessly, curating an exhibition of Chris’s works to be hung in time for the service.

  I held out my arm so that she could stand tight against me.

  “I can’t believe how many people there are,” she said.

  “I suppose word gets out quickly in these circles,” I said, looking about. There were mainly women. Most of whom, I speculated, Chris had probably been intimate with.

  “Hey, Aidan,” said Roy, who was looking unslept and pale.

  “Roy, how are you, man?” I asked.

  His bloodshot eyes widened slightly. “I’ve been better. I liked Chris. Not just because he was my teacher, but he was a good guy. He had a big heart. He may not have shown it. He didn’t do this, you know?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  “He’d stopped shooting up. He told me that. He was smoking it instead,” said Roy.

  “I didn’t know that. It would be useful if you gave a statement to the cops about that.”

  His face fired up for the first time. “Anything to catch the fucking prick who did this.”

  He bowed his head and shuffled off.

  It was a moving service, with many declarations of respect and love for a man who claimed to be a lone wolf.

  After the service, we took the ashes to Venice, where we scattered them out to sea.