Blood in the Water (Dixie Mafia Series Book 2)

by Cynthia Rayne

  Moaning, she opened for him, seeking more contact. He cradled the back of her head, held her in place while he tasted her, and tempted her once again.

  She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, soaking in his warmth and strength. The memory of him sprawled on blankets, his body licked by the firelight, came to mind, and she whimpered.

  “Did I ever tell you what a damn fine ass you have? Curvy in all the right places.” His hands settled on her hips, then he grabbed her butt cheeks, squeezing them. A rush of wetness pooled between her thighs.

  Somehow, she was still touching—no, caressing—his torso as though her fingers had dirty minds of their own.

  “No, you didn’t mention that.”

  Byron leisurely, deliberately rimmed his lips with his tongue, and Jane swore she could almost feel it on her skin. And then he seized her, tilting her head back far and plundered her mouth. She went boneless in his arms and would’ve tumbled to the floor if he didn’t support her. His tongue was more urgent this time, sliding into her mouth, claiming it for his own.

  Even though they were welded to one another, she felt like they were too far apart. Instead of his tongue plunging into her, she wanted his hard, thick cock.

  “Wanna finish what we started?” He whispered the words against her mouth.

  Jane hesitated, and doubts flooded her mind. Again.

  No, no, no. Why did you speak and ruin it?

  “I don’t think so.” Jane sucked in a shaky breath. “I, um, should do some research on Juliet.” Her lips stung—swollen and bruised by his kiss. She glanced at the big, warm, inviting bed swathed in white. “Yes, lots of research—far away from here.”

  Byron released her, and she staggered backward.

  When she met his gaze, he didn’t look disappointed. No, there was something victorious in his gaze. Even though she’d turned him down.

  Jane cocked her head to the side, studying him.

  Byron winked.

  “I’ll be in the eatery if you need me—to keep an eye on Juliet and Romeo. I’ll see if I can get her alone or something. And I need to do another thing. What was it?”

  Her brain was in a sudden fog. Everything was fuzzy, and her mind usually functioned like a precision machine.

  “Research?” Byron prompted.

  “Right, yes.” Jane grabbed her laptop and tottered to the door on jelly legs.

  A bad boy smile tugged at his luscious mouth. “Take your time, Legal Eagle, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  Jane scurried out before she made an even bigger fool of herself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  That evening, after Romeo had slipped out for a ride, they found Juliet sitting at a rickety picnic table behind the Love Nest. If their earlier encounter had been a preview, Byron doubted this interview with the young woman would go well.

  Jane had spent most of the day avoiding him and he’d let her—for now. He could tell she was close to giving in and victory would be fucking sweet.

  They sat down on opposite sides of the table. Byron straddled the seat sideways, in case she decided to bolt and he had to run her down.

  “Juliet, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “You’d have more luck dialin’ 411.” She lit a cigarette, doing her very best badass impression and then took a sip from her longneck beer.

  Jane frowned, not getting the quip.

  As a teenager, Byron had performed the role of badass for months until it felt natural. That’s the problem with pretending—eventually, it becomes authentic, and the mask won’t come off anymore.

  “What do you know about the Betsy Spellman murder?” Jane asked.

  “Go fuck yourself.” Juliet stood.

  Byron snagged her arm and yanked her back down. “Sit a spell.”

  “Get your hands off me.” She sucker-punched him in the gut.

  Byron grunted but didn’t loosen his hold on her. “Be nice and I will,” he gritted out.

  “Goddammit, somebody blabbed. You bastards know I dated him, don’t you?” She pounded a fist on the wood. “Who sold me out?”

  Despite her angry demeanor, Juliet had obviously been crying. The mascara and eyeliner were caked beneath her eyes. She was like a wounded animal, snapping and biting to cover the pain.

  “Never mind who.” Jane caught Juliet’s gaze. “Please tell us what you know about Oscar Valentine.”

  “Why should I tell you jack shit? You’re the one who set the bastard free again.” She swiped at her eyes. “I thought the feds were gonna finally toss the son of a bitch in a cage where he belongs, but no, you fucked it up.”

  Jane flinched, but then her features smoothed as she pulled herself together. Byron could almost feel her guilt, it was so palpable.

  “I was…am his lawyer and, yes, I helped him beat the murder charges.”

  Juliet sucked the end of her Marlboro. “You’ll have to sit around and wait for him to drop another body.” Her smile was nasty. “And then you can explain it away too.”

  Jane opened her mouth, but he shook his head. She had a no-nonsense, deposition approach to getting the truth, but he found the best route to the facts meandered. Byron bet Juliet hadn’t made sense of it all yet, made peace with her past. Not that he was a glowing example of closure.

  He lit a cigarette too. “Let’s start with somethin’ a mite easier. We know you were Valentine’s girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, because I had real good taste in men.”

  Jane cleared her throat. “Tell us about him…as a boyfriend.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because it’s eatin’ you alive, girl.” Byron blew a smoke ring.

  She hesitated a moment, and then nodded, as though making a decision.

  “He was handsome, quiet.” Her laugh was gasping, as though she had the beginnings of a smoker’s cough. “Ain’t that what everyone says about serial killers on the news? You know, when they interview their neighbors and such. Mr. Dahmer was such a polite man, kept to himself.” She snorted. “Well, Oscar was—he kept out of everyone’s way. The prick got good grades, joined the chess club, and didn’t make waves. Hell, even the teachers loved him.”

  Jane nodded. “My first impression was how polite he was.”

  “Yeah, his manners are real nice, at first. I mean you’d expect a murderer would be a troublemaker in school, like one of those lame ass football players who locks nerds in their lockers or somethin’, but no, he was all gentlemanly and considerate.”

  “Someone as dangerous as Valentine had to pretend to be normal.” Byron had spent a good portion of his life hiding in plain sight. While he didn’t go the quiet, unassuming, Clark Kent route, his aww shucks charm, small business owner shtick, and sex appeal were also camouflage. “What did you two do together?”

  “I didn’t fuck him if that’s what you’re drivin’ at.”

  “Not at all.” Byron had no right to judge anyone on their sexual proclivities. “We’re just tryin’ to get a sense of what happened.”

  “Oh.” She crumbled under the weight of his stare. Juliet wrapped her arms around herself as though she were freezing to death. “I try to tell myself, at least he didn’t take my virginity from me too.”

  “Because intercourse isn’t what arouses him.” Jane’s lips flattened.

  Her swallow was audible. “No, he likes other things.”

  “Pain, control. I didn’t know what he was capable of.” Jane shivered.

  “And now you do?” Juliet asked Jane.

  “It’s come to my attention.”

  Byron shot her a warning look. She was this close to divulging too much.

  “Has it?” She smirked. “Well, since you wanna know, allow me to give you an eye-witness account. You need to learn even more about your client. We used to play these games. At the time, I didn’t think anythin’ of it, but I see it in a different light now.”

  “What kind of games?” Byron was almost afraid to as
k.

  “Weird stuff. We’d float face down in the lake together, holding our breath—like two bodies.”

  Jane gasped.

  “After we drifted for a while, he’d pull me onto dry land. He liked how cold my skin was, how blue. And he’d get horny as fuck, but we didn’t ever finish it.”

  Disgustin’. The only way Valentine could get it up was to simulate drowning someone. Byron wanted to take this asshole out. The dickhead didn’t deserve a trial. He’d earned a shallow grave and a couple of bullets. If only Jane would give him the green light.

  “Together, I mean. He took matters into his own hands.”

  “Did Valentine have a crush on Betsy? Did he play any games with her?” Jane asked.

  “Well, she was a blonde on the swim team. What the fuck do you think? Of course, he panted after her.”

  “Why does he have a fixation with blondes?” Jane asked, smooth as silk.

  Jane didn’t take Juliet’s aggression personally. Byron figured she’d probably dealt with clients and witnesses who’d lashed out all the time.

  “The woman his daddy was fuckin’ on the side was a blonde. Might have somethin’ to do with it.”

  Byron was grateful Jane didn’t resemble the rest of Valentine’s victims. “Which is why you colored your hair.” It wasn’t a question, and Byron couldn’t say he blamed her.

  “Yeah, the last thing on earth I wanna be is a motherfuckin’ blonde.”

  “What happened to his parents? And his brother, for that matter? I tried to contact them numerous times for character witness statements, but they never responded to my requests. According to their passport records, none of them had returned to the United States since they left, which is also strange.”

  Juliet shrugged. “I heard rumors— the family moved to Europe to get away from the notoriety or, more likely, to get away from Oscar. I didn’t pay much attention because I was busy tryin’ to forget about him.” She bit her lower lip. “After…it happened, everythin’ fell into place.”

  “Tell us, please.” Byron hoped she was in more of a sharing mood now.

  For a long time, she sat there, not acknowledging the question, but she started to speak.

  “Fine, if you want to know so bad, I’ll tell you. One night, when his parents were out and the house was quiet, Oscar invited me over. But we didn’t watch a movie or study. Oscar had gotten into his dad’s bourbon and he’d been lookin’ at porn, but it wasn’t Playboy stuff, it was twisted. I remember this one picture. It was a woman and her nipples had been pierced with a nail.” She shuddered. “What the fuck is that?”

  Jane was solemn. “Please tell us the rest.”

  “This time, he wasn’t respectful. He attacked me.” Her tone was cool and clipped. “Oscar slashed my wrists with his pocket knife.” She unsnapped the leather wristbands and rubbed the faded scars.

  “Let me see.” Before she could protest, he gripped a wrist. The scar tissue was thick, leaving raised lines on her flesh. “Damn, those must’ve been deep.”

  “Yeah, I nearly bled out.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Byron noted there were new marks over the old scars. Juliet had been slicing on herself. “How’d you escape?”

  “My brothers taught me how to fight. I jammed my knee into his balls and poked the bastard in the eye. Then I took off for my car, running and screaming.”

  “I hope you nailed the prick.” Byron squeezed her hand.

  She met his eyes, the ghost of a smile curved her lips. “You bet your ass I did. I made him scream.”

  “And he didn’t fight back?” Jane asked.

  “No. When I struggled with him, he seemed stunned, shocked. I’m bettin’ I was the first person he ever tried to—”

  “Kill?”

  “Yeah, and now he’s got the hang of it. Oscar doesn’t leave ’em alive anymore.” She gave a croaking laugh. “Here I am, givin’ you hell for doin’ your job, when it’s my fault in the first place. I shoulda gone to the police.”

  “I’m just glad you got out of the situation alive.” Jane patted her hand.

  “Ain’t your fault and it sure as hell ain’t Jane’s, but I’m curious. Why didn’t you tell the bikers? I’m sure the MC would’ve taught him a lesson.” Byron thought they’d have handled this situation right quick. If someone attacked one of their women, the Dixie Mafia would’ve put a stop to it.

  “Romeo’s in the club, and the rest of them treat me like a little sister. What do you think would’ve happened to Oscar?”

  “They would’ve beaten him to death?” Jane offered. And she sounded a little bloodthirsty, as though she’d like to get a punch or two in.

  Byron beamed. “Sounds about right—then put his ass in the ground.” And then it occurred to him why she hadn’t. “You were afraid of what the Valentines would do to the brothers.”

  “If the club had killed Oscar, the Valentines would’ve used all their money and connections to punish those responsible. They would’ve ended up on death row—like Jessup.”

  “So Romeo doesn’t know the full story?”

  “No, although Romeo knows I dated him and it ended abruptly—and I was different afterward. Romeo tried to get me to talk about it, but I refused. After a few months, he stopped. When Valentine was arrested for murder, I think Romeo figured out what might’ve gone down that night, but by then, the feds had Oscar. He hasn’t brought it up with me again though.”

  “Tell us the rest of the story. What else happened that night?” Jane prompted.

  “Instead of goin’ home, I went to my best friend’s place instead. Amy’s oldest brother was an EMT, and he patched me up, gave me antibiotics. I wore long-sleeved shirts until my wrists healed and didn’t breathe a word of it.”

  “What about Valentine? He left you alone?” Byron asked.

  “Yeah, at first he tried to laugh it off, said it was another game, but I told him to stay the fuck away from me. And once he believed I wasn’t gonna rat on him, he left me be.”

  “Weren’t you afraid he’d try again?” Jane asked.

  “I kept a knife on me at all times and made sure he saw it. I even slept with the damn thing. Still carry one to this day.” She touched the front pocket of her jeans. “A couple of months later, he killed Betsy. She might still be alive if I’d handled it differently. I should’ve warned her and I think about that every fuckin’ day—but there’s nothin’ I can do about it now.”

  “Yes, you can, Juliet. Your case establishes a pattern of behavior. Tell the court what you know and the grand jury will re-open the cases against him.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be his lawyer?”

  Byron muttered a curse.

  Jane glanced away. “I’m simply advising you of your rights. There’s no statute of limitation on murder.”

  “Why even bother with a trial? Why go through the motions?” She turned to Byron. “You could take care of him. I’ve heard my brothers talk. They said you’re good, the best, actually. You could take him out and not leave any evidence behind—it’d solve all our problems.”

  This girl had been brutalized by Valentine, and he deserved to pay for harming her. Not to mention the man’s obsession with Jane, but he’d made her a promise, and he’d be damned if he backed out on it.

  “I can’t, Juliet. I—”

  “Please?” She grabbed his sleeve. “He’s a monster.” She slanted a glance at Jane. “And he’ll murder her too. I can see the way you look at the lawyer. You care about her. Pay him back for Betsy, for me, for all those other women, and protect the Jane in the process.”

  Byron was moved by Juliet’s story and tear-stained face, but he shook his head.

  “We have to handle this legally. Valentine will have his day in court and so will you. And Mr. Jessup can have a chance at his freedom too.”

  “Spare me the Pollyanna routine. This thing won’t end in a courtroom. Oscar is a serial killer. The only way he gets stopped is with a bullet. God, I wish I’d finished what I
started. I had the knife, and he was too shocked to move. I should’ve kept going.” Her mouth twisted. “I would’ve saved the world a lot of pain.”

  Juliet stood.

  “If you call the FBI and—”

  “No, I can’t and I won’t. If we go the legal route, I’ll endanger the club. Romeo’s speculatin’ on what might’ve happened, but this would give him proof and the brothers would handle it. And don’t even think of tryin’ any dirty tricks on me. If they haul me in for questionin’, I’ll deny every goddamn detail.” She drained the rest of her beer and tossed it into the trash can so hard it shattered.

  “You don’t have to make a decision right now. Why don’t you take a day and think about it? We’ll meet tomorrow morning for coffee and talk some more then?”

  Byron was used to talking people into things. A delicate balance between pressure and breathing room was needed to secure her cooperation.

  “No, I’m not gonna change my mind.”

  “Just coffee. You aren’t makin’ any promises, you’re only agreein’ to a hot beverage. Okay?”

  She shook her head.

  “Please?” Byron raised his brows, using every ounce of his charisma.

  Juliet sighed. “Fine. We’ll have coffee, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  “Good. You live at the hotel, right?”

  “Yeah, on the second floor.”

  “We’ll meet you in the lobby at nine?” He glanced at Jane, who nodded.

  “Whatever.”

  And then she ran off like Valentine was chasing right after. Maybe he had been all of these years. The serial killer must have a starring role in all of Juliet’s nightmares.

  Like Buckley haunted his own dreams.

  Jane got to her feet. “This has to work, it has to.”

  He could read the relief on her face. She’d found a way out of the mess without sacrificing any of her morals.

  Byron doubted it’d end all neat and tidy, tucked away. In his experience, life had a way of pissing all over people’s grand plans. Most things ended with a big mess.

  But it’d be nice if he was wrong. For once.