Dirty Sexy Secret (Green County Book 1)

by Nazarea Andrews

  Tainted.

  God.

  “What happened to her?” I ask, and my voice is pure venom, all biting fury that gets Archer’s attention.

  “She vanished. Left Topeka and the County, and went to hide with whoever the fuck she’s been working for.”

  Bitch. Fuck up my brother’s life and then vanish. Bitch deserves to be strung up and skinned slowly—

  “Breathe for me, Hazy-eyes. She’s gone. Eli is safe. I need you with me, not hell-bent on bringing that whore to her knees.”

  I snarl and he laughs. Even now, he’s more amused by my temper than intimidated by it. Dumbass.

  “Eli is fine, now. He is, sweetheart. And we can use this.”

  “Why? How?”

  “Morningstar. Eli thinks Scarlett was working with him.”

  My blood runs cold, because it’s the second time he’s mentioned that name.

  And Michael did, too.

  “There’s something bigger here,” I murmur, and Archer shifts, stealing a sliver of onion that falls from my mostly untouched sandwich. “It’s why I came home.”

  Not strictly true, but close enough.

  “Green County is a corridor. And the prostitutes down on Victory are too well organized—there’s something in the background. Fuck, Archer, even Emery is dirty.”

  He stiffens, and his eyes dart away. I go still. “You fucked Abbi Emery?” I say, slowly. Because I know him, and I know what the hell he looks like when he’s feeling guilty about shit.

  “Don’t judge me,” he mutters, dropping the last bite of his sandwich on his plate.

  I laugh, a short, incredulous noise. The girl has been trying to get Archer in her bed for the better part of the past sixteen years, since she realized that an Airplane Orphan would buy a mountain of goodwill in Green County.

  Even when she was a senior in high school, Abbi Emery knew exactly what she wanted.

  “It was a dumb move, I’m aware. Eli has had a lot of fun reminding me on a regular basis. Now. Moving along. What the fuck are you talking about?”

  I blink at him. “Archer. C’mon. You know the County isn’t as Boy-Scout Americana as the fucking tourists would believe.”

  He shrugs, a little uncomfortable looking and I huff a sigh. “The County is lousy with corruption. It’s on base, and it’s in the Mayor’s office, and the only reason I tend to think it’s not in the force is because you’re there and you’d kill someone for touching your precious force. But it’s a thing. And I think this—the murders the other day—have to do with that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because why else would someone go through that much trouble? There was a lot of rage behind her murder, right?” I play it over in my head. What he told me. The blank horror in Eli’s eyes.

  And Michael and John, bloody and furious and too fucking calm.

  Yeah. This was personal.

  “You shouldn’t get involved,” he says suddenly, and I jerk, hard. My eyes wide. He’s got this look, coming over his face that I know too well.

  “Archer-”

  “It’s dangerous, Hazel. You need to stay out of it and let me do my job. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

  “Archer-”

  “Just. Forget Morningstar. Forget Scarlett. I’ve got it.”

  I stand while he’s still babbling, and he watches me. Watches as I skirt the corner of the table and get a good grip on his hair, and jerk his head up.

  I kiss him silent.

  His hands find my waist, drag me down, and I whimper as I land against him, his cock hard against me.

  Already. Jesus. He could fuck me again, already, and that’s a very tempting thought.

  “You’re gonna get yourself hurt,” he whispers.

  Probably. With Gabriel being held by crazy killers, the chances of that are a lot more likely than Archer realizes, not that I’m gonna be the one to clue him in.

  “Let me help. I’m good at digging up secrets. And I never got hurt doing it, when I lived in Boston.” I nip his earlobe as he traces a hot path down my throat, and his teeth close over the curve of my neck. My hips roll down, into him, without any real permission from me. “You need me.”

  He hums against my skin, an acknowledgment of that. Breathes the words against my lips. “I’ve always needed you, Hazy-girl.”

  I make a noise that’s like a whimper and he takes it. Takes my lips and gives me back so much more. Holds me close, and together, when his words threaten to shake me apart and his lips curve over mine and coax me open, licking into my mouth with this hunger that’s fucking insane.

  I want him.

  As stupid and dangerous and impossible as it is. I want him.

  I think I always will.

  I twist in his grip, and until I’m straddling him in the chair, and rocking against him and his hands are in my hair. So easy. It’d be so fucking easy, to slip his jeans down and tug my shorts to one side and ride him, right here.

  I groan and he laughs against my lips, arching up into me, his voice a filthy hot promise in my ear. “Wanna ride me, huh, baby? Just fucked you. But you’re a greedy girl and you want it again, don’t you?”

  His hips punch up again, punctuate his statement and I moan.

  “What. The. Fuck. Are you doing?”

  I was sixteen, when I met Eli for the first time.

  It’s funny, that someone who became the central figure of my life could be absent from it for sixteen fucking years. Half my life, and he wasn’t part of it. That’s weird as fuck, when I think about it too hard.

  Because if there is anyone who has affected me, it’s Eli. Nora and Hazel, they have their places, and they’re important. I wouldn’t be the man I am, if Nora hadn’t kicked my ass back into line, and Hazel hadn’t demanded I step up and take care of Eli. But Eli. Lijah is what kept me moving. He forced me to be better, and kept me from falling apart, when Hazel left and always needed me. Even when she left and Nora got used to being on her own again, Eli needed me.

  I was sixteen, when I met Eli for the first time.

  I was furious, all rage and grief and violence balanced on a hair’s trigger.

  Eli was the same, but he turned all that fury and grief inward, made it his own burden. He was terrified of being abandoned, terrified of being a problem and having Nora turn him out.

  The kid was a fucking mess.

  But he was my mess. And I put him back together, patched up the worst cracks in his self-worth, and he started to heal. Not completely. Some things you never completely heal from—losing your single mother in a fucking plane crash is one of those things. But what Eli needed was a place to belong. Someone to belong to.

  And I gave him that. We gave him that.

  Doesn’t mean we didn’t fight like fucking savages, when he got pissed, and he did.

  Often.

  I’m pretty sure that this moment, with him standing in Hazel’s kitchen, all furious lines and disbelieving eyes, as Hazel sits panting and on the edge of orgasm in my lap—pretty sure this is one of those times we’re gonna fight like savages.

  “What the hell is happening?” He demands, his voice a tight line of fury. Hazel is tense and still in my lap, and I look at her, quickly. Checking that she’s not freaking out too badly.

  She totally is.

  Shit.

  “Up, baby,” I murmur, patting her ass and she scrambles out of my lap and away from me.

  And that isn’t happening.

  “This’s got nothing to do with you, Eli,” I say, softly, catching her hand and dragging her close enough to me that I can catch her before she bolts. She throws me a disbelieving look, like she can’t quite believe that’s the argument I’m going with.

  “She’s our fucking sister, Archer!” Eli yells.

  Hazel throws up a hand, and glares at Eli. “She is right here, and wasn’t fucking forced into anything, so if you have a problem with this-” she points between us, “you don’t get to be pissed at him. You take that shit out on
both of us.”

  “You’ve been in love with him since you were fourteen, Hazel,” Eli snaps, disgusted. “Of course you’d jump all over him. He’s a fucking slut who needs to learn where the fuck his boundaries are.”

  Hazel freezes, her eyes wide and hurt, and I see the second it clicks with Eli, just how far over the line he’s crossed. “Hazel,” he starts, and she skitters back a step.

  “Get the fuck outta my house,” she orders, her voice low and tight. Eli makes a wounded noise and she snarls, ripping her hand from me, and marching to the door. “You want to treat me like one of his throw away whores, Lijah, I’ll treat you the exact same way. Get the fuck out.”

  Eli is pale, and throws me a pleading look. I shake my head. “You fucked this one up, dude. I’d do what she said.”

  He glares, all furious indignation, but he does. He leaves. She stares at him when he’s on the back porch, giving her his pleading puppy eyes. “Hazel, you know I didn’t mean that. This—it’s fucked up. You know it’s fucked up.”

  She stares at him. “I know that I told him no. That I wouldn’t do a fucking relationship, because I was worried about you. And you want to tell me I’m one of his whores? Fuck you, Elijah.”

  She slams the door in his face, before he can protest or attempt to defend himself and I rise, studying her. “You okay?”

  Hazel gives me that are you a fucking idiot? stare I know so well, and makes a dismissive noise. “Cat’s out, now. Get out of here and do some fucking damage control. I’ll call when I find out something useful about Morningstar.”

  She goes on tiptoes to kiss me, and then she’s moving, away from me.

  I know a Hazel dismissal when I see one, so I don’t bother to push for more.

  Especially since I can see Eli next to my car, glaring at me.

  Fuck.

  I take a deep breath, and shove out of the house, buckling my gun belt on and jogging down the stairs of the farmhouse.

  “Don’t,” I warn, before he can even open his mouth. “You don’t get to have an opinion about this.”

  “I don’t get to have an opinion about you fucking our sister.”

  I jerk around and shove him, hard.

  Hard enough that he stumbles back a step.

  Eli never expects me to go on the offensive.

  “I’ve never fucked Hazel. And you’ll treat her with some fucking respect, or I’ll lay you out, Lijah, I swear to god.”

  His eyes go very wide, and he pales. Sways just a little. “Archer,” he whispers.

  “You don’t get an opinion, Lijah. Not on this. What Hazel and I do, that’s between us. We’ll let you know when and if it affects you. Until then, keep your fucking mouth shut and give her the fucking respect she deserves.” I glare at him and he nods, once. Still watching me with that wide, almost scared stare.

  I can’t deal with that stare. Not yet. So I turn to the Roadrunner and throw over my shoulder, “Let’s go. We’ve got four dead bodies and we’re still no closer to answers.”

  There is a part of me—a pretty sizable part—that wants to drag Archer back into my room and fuck him senseless, just to shut Eli up after that nonsense.

  Another part of me wants to call Nora and tell her not to believe a word Eli says.

  Both are throwbacks to when I was in high school and Eli was the annoying big brother who dragged me into more trouble than he managed to drag me out of.

  And neither part is something I can indulge in right now. I swallow hard and pull out my phone. It buzzed again, while I was eating with Archer, and I’m not so stupid to think it’s anyone but Michael.

  I’m right. It’s a picture this time, and my fingers creak, too tight, on the casing of the phone.

  Gabe is sitting in the same chair. His shirt’s been cut away, and there are burns on his chest that weren’t there in the last picture.

  But he’s glaring. His honey gold eyes still bright with fury and indignation.

  That helps, for some reason.

  Unknown: Two hours. The lake.

  I glance at the timestamp. Shit.

  I’ve got just enough time to get my shit together and make a phone call before I need to leave. I make the call.

  “What’d need, baby girl?” a low drawl answers, and I smirk.

  How the hell a redneck tech head ended up in Boston working as a busboy in a dive bar?

  God’s little mysteries, I suppose.

  “Hey Jase. Need you to dig for me,” I say. Because it’s been almost six months since I vanished from Boston, and I never explained to Jase. I didn’t need to. If he was curious, there’s very little the hacker couldn’t find out. So there’s literally no reason for me to waste time with apologies and explanations.

  “Personal or for a story?”

  I smirk, a little. “Both.”

  He laughs, and I hear the clatter of keys as he brings his computer to life. Vaguely, I wonder how drunk he is.

  A world class hacker and programmer he might be, but the boy spends so much time drunk it’s a wonder he can find his way out of a paper bag much less the NSA’s database.

  “Detective out of Topeka. Scarlett Materson.” I spell it out for him, and he whistles.

  “How much you want?” He asks.

  “Everything.” I murmur, and there’s a breath of hesitation. A quiet demand for more information. I sigh. “She hurt my family, Jase.”

  “You’ll have it by morning.”

  “Need it sooner than that. And, I need you to find out what the fuck happened to her when she left the force. Pay attention to whose paying her.”

  Jase is laughing now. “Damn, Hazel, I’ve fucking missed you.”

  I smirk. He always did love a challenge. “Do me a favor? Dig into Morningstar, too. Time’s important, ok?”

  “Gimme a couple hours,” he says, and hangs up without a goodbye.

  My smile fades as I lower the phone and drop it in my purse as I scoop up my keys.

  At least someone is happy with me today.

  It occurs to me, as I twist the wheel and turn onto a small, dirt road, that this is one of the stupider things I’ve done.

  I feel like the girl in a horror movie that you yell at as she wanders into the basement alone, like some kind of fucking idiot.

  Except, I know there’s a killer waiting, and it’s not a basement—it’s a lake that I used to spend my summers swimming with Archer and Eli. It’s where I lost my virginity, the year after Archer ran off to the Marines.

  It’s where Gabe and I would sit and smoke, while Eli made out with Jess and I dreamed about getting the fuck out of the County.

  Later, Aidan and Colt would join us here. Remi brooding nearby like an overgrown emo giant.

  And now.

  Fuck. I huff out a breath, and stare at the shoreline.

  They had to pick a place like this. In the middle of fucking nowhere. No one knew where I was. And so full of memories that it’s hard to keep a grip on what I’m doing here.

  John is standing on a small pier, where we’d fish and dive off, and lay sprawled out, staring at the stars.

  A girl is sitting on the edge, her feet dangling in the water.

  Michael is leaning against the rail next to her, ignoring me entirely.

  I wonder where the fuck they left Gabe and how they can be so confident that he’ll be there, when they return.

  Then I remember that Michael and John murdered four people in cold blood less than forty-eight hours ago.

  If they want to hold one reclusive, eccentric baker, it wouldn’t be terribly difficult.

  John shifts, and I let out my breath. Shove the door open and climb out of my truck.

  “You’re late,” he calls, and I glance at my watch.

  “I’m not, actually,” I say, angry suddenly.

  “Your pet cops were at the farmhouse a long time, Hazel. Should we be concerned?”

  “I’m fucking here. Alone. If anyone gets to be concerned, it’s me,” I snap.

  J
ohn snarls, jerking forward and a cool feminine voice splits the air. “Enough, John. Leave her.”

  It draws both twins to a sudden and abrupt halt. Michael straightens away from the dock and exchanges a glance with his twin as Hanna says, her voice soft and musical, “Come sit with me, Hazel. My brothers promised you a story, and I suppose it’s time to deliver.”

  The fact that we’re in separate cars helps. I need a little distance from Lijah, and if I know anything about the kid—I do—he needs the space from me. I’m still refusing to think about that look he gave me in her driveway, just like I’m refusing to think about the way she swayed so fucking sweet on my lap and how close I’d been to sliding into her again, before Eli interrupted.

  Shit.

  I wonder, briefly, if he’s already told Nora.

  The fact that my phone is ridiculously silent says probably not.

  Good. We both need to focus, and we have this nice juicy homicide to focus on.

  Never thought I’d be glad to have four fucking dead bodies and no leads, but if I can use it to distract Eli from the giant elephant in the room, I’ll take just about anything right now.

  I’m at my desk, and Billings is on his way toward me, waving a file like it’s got some kind of magic eight ball answer when Eli gets back, carrying two cups from CinSations. He offers me one silently, and I eye him.

  “Did you two have a lover’s spat?” Billings asks and I flip him off as I take the coffee and nod at Eli.

  It’s not an apology. Not quite. But it’s a peace offering and I’ll take it.

  “We found Beth’s car.”

  That jerks my attention to Billings and Eli whistles. “Where?”

  “A strip club on Victory. The Foxy Lady.” He glances at the file. “Their surveillance is down, of course, but I sent Harrison and Tucker down to talk to the owner.”

  I frown and Billings points at me. “Don’t get greedy, Archer. You need help with this. Emery is breathing down my fucking neck—no one likes four fucking dead bodies in a house that looks like Manson let his family loose in it.”

  Fair point. “We got the car being processed?” I ask.