Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother Novel Book 4)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  “Is that why he’s glaring at Jaxon?”

  Hope laughs. “No, he’s glaring because Jaxon volunteered him to bunk with Liam and share with Aiden and Bailey.”

  “Oh God, they’re going to get us kicked off site.”

  “I’m going to pretend we aren’t with them.”

  “Is it really that bad?” Clayton asks, his breath brushing across my ear.

  “Not really,” Hope answers, then looks thoughtful. “Unless you count the time they got us kicked out of the hotel and there weren’t any rooms anywhere else, so we had to sleep on the beach for the night.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  He’s got that right. I didn’t forgive Liam for a week after that one. Sand is not your friend.

  “Where and when are we meeting up in the morning?” I call out, wanting to get out of the cold and to the cabin so I can check out the hot tub.

  “Nine. There’s a building near the entrance that serves breakfast,” Faith announces.

  “Are you not coming for a drink?” Charlotte asks, glancing up from her phone.

  “No, I’m heading back. I’ll catch you all later.”

  We leave after saying goodbye, following the map that was given to Clayton at reception.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Due to the dim lighting, I’ve not been able to take in much of the area, yet I can still see the beauty in what I have viewed. Whoever takes care of the presentation of the cabins, does it with love. They’ve put dedication into detail, into making each one look loved and cared for.

  I feel terrible over how they’ve let us stay. Something is bound to get broken. I don’t want their work to be ruined.

  From the introduction Clayton gave me after we left the others, Cabin Lakes is family run and some of the cabins are long-term rentals.

  I can see why. Not only is the scenery—from what I’ve managed to glimpse—stunning, but each cabin is warm and inviting.

  Each end of the cabin has hanging baskets, ready for when the flowers bloom. Under the window is a flower bed, a wooden bench underneath. On each side of the door are two lanterns, the electrical candles flickering to replicate a real flame.

  There’s even a small wooden locker next to the door to place muddy boots and umbrellas.

  “How did you find this place?” I ask as we continue along the path.

  “My granddad was friends with theirs. We would come during the winter most years. When the lake is frozen or snow is on the ground here, it’s spectacular.”

  “I can believe it. This place is incredible,” I gush.

  “It really is. That cabin,” he continues, pointing to a two-storey brightly-lit home, “is Lola and Dean’s home. They used the plot of land to build on when her parents’ cabin was destroyed during Storm Ellen. He used parts of it in the house to give her some of it back. It was one of the last things she had left of them.”

  That’s beautiful.

  “As much as I love this place so far, I don’t think I could live here.”

  Clayton doesn’t seem convinced. “Really? Why? This is one of the most beautiful places in England.”

  “Exactly,” I affirm. “Living here, unless it held sentimental value, would become ordinary. You wouldn’t see the beauty like someone who was visiting for the first time.”

  “Huh?”

  I sigh, stopping outside our cabin, and turn to him. “Why do you go on holiday?”

  “To get away, relax, explore.”

  I nod, agreeing. “And for a change of scenery. People who live near the beach won’t pay to go to another one that’s the same. They won’t see the beauty, enjoy the smell of salt in the air, or delight in being a tourist. They won’t see the little things because they live with it. I couldn’t live like that. I love that feeling you get when you experience something for the first time, when you taste something, or that rush you get. I can’t imagine not having it. Although,” I add, taking a look around at the paved walkway and sun-powered streetlamps, “I couldn’t imagine there being anywhere as nice as this in England.”

  When he doesn’t say anything for a moment, I glance up at him. His pupils dilate, his lips parting as he tilts his head to the side. I can’t help but feel his surprise at my words, like he’s seeing me for the first time or is taken off guard by the fact I’m capable of being evocative.

  No one has ever looked at me this way. Usually when I speak, people roll their eyes or snort, thinking I’m joking.

  I duck my head, uncomfortable with the emotions coursing through my body.

  He clears his throat. “I get it. Sometimes, people take this world for granted, always sure it will be as it’s always been. But it won’t. Nothing lasts forever. I admire your perspective.”

  I get his point, yet… “Way to be morbid. But I get your point.”

  He laughs, pushing the key into the door as my phone rings. “Let’s get inside so you can answer that.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him, before answering the call. “Hey, Uncle Liam, is everything okay?”

  “Take the master,” Clayton whispers, pointing to the door on the left of the small hallway.

  I nod, pulling my case down the hall and into the room.

  “Are you busy?”

  “Nope.” I heave, dropping my case onto my bed, along with my backpack.

  “I got you the contact details for Joyce. She was transferred to Liverpool.”

  “Convenient,” I murmur, though I’m glad she’s safe.

  “That’s not all. After our last call, I couldn’t stop thinking about the missing statement and the cop we can’t account for that visited the house and was seen in the alley. If we can figure out who that is, we can find out who has been giving the gang a heads up. You’re not going to like this, but the case, the reporter, and maybe the alley cop, all have one thing in common.”

  Dread fills my stomach because I know where this is going. “Rob.”

  “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but yes. He must be the leak in the department, and my guess is, he went and threatened Rita Jones, which caused her to have a heart attack.” He lets out a heavy sigh, sounding exhausted. “You need to talk to Beau, get him up to speed.”

  I pace back and forth along the knitted red and brown rug. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Hayden, all of this is leading back to him. I’ve searched through all the databases to see who has logged on to access the online files and his log in is used frequently.”

  “Because he’s one of the lead officers on this case, Liam. What about paper files? Anyone could get their hands on them.”

  “It’s because he’s lead officer that I believe he’s our guy. He’s in a position where he’s informed of what is happening and has the means to alter evidence.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, letting out a breath. “I’ve gotten to know him. I’ve spoken to him at great lengths about this case. He’s genuinely upset about Christina. He wants her murderer caught and I think he’s still struggling on whether it’s for justice or vengeance,” I explain. “I can hear how much of a toll this case is taking on him each time something else happens. The other day, a woman was raped and beaten. What’s next? Another murder? Rob isn’t the kind of person to cover up heinous crimes. I won’t believe it until I get proof.”

  “Okay, say he is innocent, someone is still informing the gang. They have a dozen or so officers who are on file because they were the ones first on scene. There are three superior’s, which include Rob, Colin Fisher and their boss, Jamie Walker.”

  “So all we need to do is break the list down,” I murmur.

  “Yes, but it’s hard to do when we don’t know who this gang is. We can’t link any of them to that gang until we know who we’re looking for.”

  I sit down on the edge of the bed when an idea forms in my head. Tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, I pull my laptop out of my bag and start it up. “I’m going to speak to Beau as soon as I get chance because I think I have an idea. I’ll
need a week or so to put it together.”

  “Hayden, I think once you’ve told Beau, you should walk away.”

  “No! I have a plan. A good one,” I declare, typing the names in my notes app.

  “No, Hayden, you aren’t listening. You need to stop this. Don’t make me tell your dad.”

  I inhale sharply. “You wouldn’t!”

  “I would. I need you to take this seriously.”

  “And I am,” I argue. “I have a plan.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You don’t even know what it is,” I growl.

  “Probably something that will most likely have your dad getting arrested for murdering me.”

  I snort. “Like he would get caught,” I boast.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Just listen to my plan first. If I get all the potential suspects in the same room at their station and announce I’ve found a witness who claims she saw who murdered Christina, but who will only talk to me because she feels watched, the cop involved will panic, worry the witness will reveal who the guy running this thing is. He can’t have anyone finding out he’s been tipping them off. I can make up some crap and say I’ve made sure to get word out that I’m meeting her at location A, but really, I’ll be meeting her at location B. So while the police will be watching location A for the gang to show up, the person involved is going to go to location B, where he thinks the witness actually is. And I think the cop will be that person. If I make up some story that can convince the potential suspects to keep this on the downlow, the cop involved will know he can’t tip the gang off, nor risk the gang being caught or they’ll reveal his identity. It will prove there’s a cop working for them. He’ll have no choice but to go himself.”

  “But there isn’t a witness,” Liam states.

  “For a bright person, you can be slow. I won’t actually be meeting anyone. It’s a farce, remember? No one but the cops will know what is happening. So whoever is involved with the break-ins will turn up at location B in the hope to shut this witness up. I’m willing to put money on it.”

  “That’s great and all, but how are you going to arrest a trained cop?”

  He really is meant to be the smart one, but sometimes I wonder. “Do I look stupid to you?” I utter dryly. “I’ll get Beau to stake out that location.”

  “Woah, okay, that’s actually a pretty solid plan. What about Joyce, the carer?”

  I think about it for a moment, before coming to a decision. “I think it’s best we don’t draw attention to her until after we figure out who we are dealing with. It could put her in danger. If she isn’t already.”

  “Smart,” he states. “Speak to Beau and keep me informed on the plan. I’ll go with him and set up recording equipment. If our hunch is correct and one or more are involved, we will need more than our word.”

  I shut my laptop, smiling proudly. “I will. I might actually pull this off. My boss will have to give me space for a news report after this.”

  “You’ve done well, kid. And we need a reporter who reports facts, not hearsay or headlines that are just for money.”

  “We really do,” I agree. No one can trust what is written anymore. One day, there’s going to be something the world needs to hear, to be warned about, but the public will just pass it off as another lie, another article written to gain sales.

  I pull myself back to the present. “Thank you for all your help, Uncle Liam.”

  “Any time. Stay safe.”

  “I will. Speak to you soon.”

  I end the call, dropping my phone onto the bed, smiling. It might seem inappropriate, but I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long. I’ve worked hard to get here, yet each story I took to Weston kept getting rejected because they weren’t interesting enough or it wasn’t new because someone else beat me to it. With this, I will have all the facts first.

  However, I’m not here to work. I’m here to get drunk, relax and have fun.

  For the first time since entering the room, I take a look around, and I’m impressed. The bed is a king with a dark wooden frame, swirled grooves on the headboard. It’s beautiful. The furniture matches the bedframe, all dark wood with the same patterned grooves, and from the feel of the exquisite work, it’s made from real oak. There are a few landscape canvases on the walls, and one that I think is the lake here at Cabin Lakes.

  Moving around the room, the hamper on the dressing table with a large, round mirror above, draws my attention. Inside are slippers, facial packs, eye masks and a few other bits and bobs.

  I’m impressed. They really went out of their way to make people feel special.

  What would make me feel special right now is outside, and I can’t wait to enjoy the hot tub.

  Sliding my case across the bed, I unzip it and pull out my dressing gown and swimsuit. After stripping down, I slide the swimming costume on before walking over to the mirror, checking myself out.

  I love this costume. It’s one of my favourites. The black nylon fits snug to my body, and the bust area pushes my boobs together. I tie the straps across them into a knot, which makes them look bigger than they are. Turning, I check out my rear, loving how the globes of my arse look.

  The cut-out sides are my favourite, though inconvenient when sunbathing. But I look hot nonetheless.

  After pulling my hair into a bun and wrapping my dressing gown around me, I head out the door to double check the tub is on.

  I come to a stumbling stop at the sight of a shirtless Clayton.

  Bloody hell.

  He doesn’t just have full sleeve tattoos. On his right shoulder, his tattoo spreads down his back and around his ribs. It weaves perfectly over his muscular back. I can’t see the art or script woven into the tribal pattern, but I want to.

  Desperately.

  I lick my lips when he turns, giving me a full view of his chest and abs. I’ve seen my fair share of abs, but never ones more defined than his. He isn’t even tensing, yet I can see every dent, every dip. It looks natural, not like a few of the ones I’ve seen that look steroid injected.

  I can only imagine what it would be like to have him under me, running my hands over his chest and down his body, watching it tense beneath me, his muscles bulging.

  I squeeze my thighs together, still running my gaze over him.

  A throat clearing startles me, and I snap my head up, meeting Clayton’s unwavering gaze.

  His lips twitch. “Can I help you?”

  “Um, yeah, you really can,” I tell him, my clit pulsing.

  “How?” he asks, his voice husky as he stands straighter.

  I shake my head, clearing all the dirty things I want to do to him from my mind. “Is the hot tub on?”

  “Yes. I saw it when I checked everything out.”

  I grin. “Great.”

  Finally glancing at something other than his magnificent body, I note he’s changed out of his jeans and into a pair of grey cotton jogging bottoms.

  Fucking hell, he makes everything remind me of sex, because now I’m wondering if he’s wearing boxers under them, and acknowledging how easy it would be to pull them down and fuck him until he forgets his name.

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Yeah, I’m just going for a run. Dean said they have a trail that’s lit up near the entrance.”

  “But you’re away,” I remind him, my eyebrows pinching together.

  He smirks, running his gaze over my body, making me feel naked.

  I wish.

  “You really don’t like exercise, do you?”

  Well duh, I’m not a masochist. “Not even a little. The only time I run is if someone is chasing me or I’m chasing one of my relatives.”

  He pulls a black hoody over his head, laughing, and I inwardly sigh, my jaw dropping at the sight of his muscles flexing.

  “I shouldn’t be long. There’s beer in the fridge.”

  “Is there food?” I ask, turning towards the kitchen area briefly.

  “All stocked. I to
ok the initiative to get all the cabins stocked for our stay.”

  I sag against the side of the doorframe, smiling at his thoughtfulness, when a thought occurs to me and I stand up straighter.

  Paisley.

  Landon is probably freaking out and Googling the nearest shop to make sure she has plenty of food to eat.

  “If that worried expression has anything to do with Paisley, she’s fine. I made sure they have a range of foods for her. I emailed Charlotte in case someone had any allergies and she explained Paisley is diabetic.”

  “Thank God. I didn’t want to deal with my brother tomorrow if that wasn’t the case,” I lie. “He’s overprotective.”

  “Looks like he isn’t the only one.”

  I roll my eyes behind his back when he leaves, heading towards the kitchen. “Before you go, do you know where the towels are?”

  “There are some in a cupboard beside the sliding doors that lead onto the patio. I think they’re for the hot tub because there’s a towel dressing gown.”

  I run my hand over the fleece of my own dressing gown, relieved it won’t be getting wet. “Thank you.”

  I head over, pulling open the cupboard, and grin when I run a hand over the beige cotton and find it warm.

  When I turn around, he’s grabbing his iPod out of his bag on the counter and a bottle of water out of the fridge.

  I drop my dressing gown to the floor before turning to grab the gown off the hanger.

  The crinkling of plastic has me turning back around.

  “Fuck!” Clayton rasps, staring open-jawed at my swim-clad body. Water spills out of the bottle he’s squeezed tight.

  I walk over, putting more sway in my hips, and press myself against him, watching him swallow. I lean around him, grabbing an apple out of the bowl before standing before him, taking a bite out of the fruit.

  “Have a good run,” I tell him, before stepping away, hearing a groan behind me.

  I tilt my head up a little, grinning.

  He might not want to want me, but he does.

  By the end of this week, I’ll make sure he wants me so bad he regrets pulling away from me.