by CP Smith
Pierce moved to a sideboard and poured a glass of water. “Even if I had the time, I’m not a criminal investigator. I handle civil disputes,” Pierce pressed, handing her the water.
“Then find me someone who won’t sleep until my husband’s killer is caught. Get me that man who was in the paper, the one who found my Billy Ray. The newspaper says he’s some kind of Supercop.”
Devin’s cousin had stopped at the outburst, as well, then realized we were gawking. “Shit, come with me,” she ordered, and we followed. “Guess I’m gonna have to call in a favor,” she mumbled to herself as we proceeded down the hall. “Her husband was murdered,” she continued, turning back to look at us, explaining as if we hadn’t heard the conversation. “My husband is a friend of his, so naturally, she came to us for advice. I’m Megan Pierce, by the way, you can call me Megan.” She stopped next to a closet and opened the door. “Everything you need is in here. Just holler if you have any questions.”
She turned on her heel and headed back down the hallway toward her husband’s office, pulling out her cell as she disappeared around the corner.
“Let’s get this over with as soon as possible,” I whispered, grabbing cleaning solution and rags from the shelves. “I feel guilty. I feel it in my bones Maria didn’t kill Billy Ray, but hearing that woman cry . . . “
Poppy glanced over her shoulder to make sure Megan wasn’t close by. “According to Author Karen Rosemond, a person is capable of anything if their life’s in danger.”
“Jesus, Poppy. Fictional characters don’t count,” I said.
“Cali, it’s common knowledge she interviews the police extensively for her books,” Poppy defended.
I narrowed my eyes.
“I’m just sayin’, anything is possible.”
“No way. Not that sweet girl.”
Sighing, she nodded. “You’re right. Let’s get this done and get back to work.”
We struggled with the supplies until we got to the top of the stairs. The second-floor bedrooms had been converted into a filing room and a single conference room with views of Chippewa Square. There was a bathroom between the two rooms and a long runner covering the hardwood floor.
“I’ll take the bathroom, you start in the conference room,” I told Poppy.
She grabbed the vacuum, and I grabbed the cleaning supplies then walked into the bathroom. It was larger than I expected. A walk-in closet and double sink vanity stood on one side and a large glass shower was situated on the other. I looked inside the shower to see if it had been used and found it still looked clean. In an attempt to finish quickly, I sprayed the tile with Windex to give it a just-cleaned shine and wiped it down.
The toilet was next.
I looked at the ceiling, wondering how I’d gotten myself into this. Cleaning my own toilet when I knew I was the only one who used it was one thing, but a toilet that only God knew how many people had used was akin to torture.
Rummaging through the supplies, I realized I didn’t have rubber gloves, so I opened the bathroom door to ask Poppy if she had any. As soon as I opened the door, I shut it again. Then I cracked it, and my eyes widened at the sound of Devin’s voice. “I was in the neighborhood when you called.”
“You look like crap, Devin, and you look like you slept in your clothes.”
“Yeah,” he answered, his voice filled with exhaustion. “I had a hell of a night stakin’ out a suspect and one hell of a mornin’. I haven’t been to sleep yet.”
“I’m guessin’ your bad mornin’ has to do with the article in the paper. What case kept you up?”
“I can’t discuss my cases, Meg.”
“Were you workin’ the Billy Ray case?” she whispered.
“What part of ‘I can’t discuss my cases’ doesn’t compute with you?”
“Billy Ray’s wife is here,” she whispered again. “That’s why I called you. She wants to hire you to find his killer.”
“She needs to leave it to the police,” he answered.
“But you found his body. Doesn’t that mean you’re already involved?”
I leaned out of the bathroom enough so I could see down into the lobby. He looked exhausted, rumpled, and sexy as hell. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his fingers through it all night in frustration.
He crossed his arms and looked blankly at his cousin. “Meg,” he warned.
With a huff, Megan reached up and ran her hand through his hair in motherly disgust. “You need a woman to take care of you, because you clearly aren’t takin’ care of yourself.”
Devin grinned.
“And a haircut,” she groused. “Have you eaten?”
“Not since yesterday. I’ll pick somethin’ up on my way back to my apartment.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I have food in the kitchen,” she said then linked an arm with Devin. As they headed toward the back of the house, Megan stopped, then leaned in and sniffed his clothes. “Why do you smell like . . . a dead body?”
He looked down at her and raised a brow. “Shit,” she mumbled, then pointed at the stairs. “Shower. Now.”
“Meg,” he chuckled, but she pointed again and stomped her foot.
“Right. NOW!”
I could tell by the look on his face he was going to acquiesce. Hell, I’d agree if I’d been sitting in clothes that smelled like a dead body for more than a minute.
When he looked back at the stairs, I stepped back and closed the door then started gathering my supplies.
Poppy opened the door as I was almost done and whisper-shouted, “Is that Devin downstairs?”
I nodded frantically, then we heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Oh, God. Now what?”
“The bathroom’s right through that door, towels are in the linen closet.”
Poppy and I looked at each other then looked at the closet. She ripped it open, grabbed a handful of towels, and shoved them at me. “Put them on the counter.”
I did what she said, then she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the closet, closing the door.
There was a knock on the bathroom door a second later, then it opened. I covered my mouth to keep from laughing.
This was like something out of a Three Stooges movie.
Poppy and I barely fit in the closet, so I held onto the doorknob and leaned back to keep from falling out.
“I’ll get you some of Greg’s clothes to wear home, just leave those smelly things in here, and I’ll wash them for you . . . or burn them.”
The door closed behind her, and then the shower turned on.
“When he gets in the shower, open the door a smidge and see if we can escape,” Poppy whispered.
“This is ridiculous,” I whispered back. “I should just walk out there and confront him. We’re not doin’ anything but helpin’ out Carmella.”
“Works for me,” she answered, nudging me in the back, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d kissed that man and I didn’t want to see the rejection on his face again. Add to that we tried to interfere in his investigation, and I figured he’d be pretty pissed. No, I wasn’t ready for the confrontation yet.
“Are we leaving or what?” she whispered in my ear.
I sighed. “Or what.”
“You were lyin’ when you said you didn’t care he rejected you.”
I didn’t answer immediately, then nodded. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have kissed him, and now I can’t bring myself to face him.”
“I understand,” she replied. “But just so you know, I still think you’re wrong about Devin.”
I started to answer, but I heard the shower door slide closed, and then a low moan filled the room.
“He’s in the shower.”
“Look and see if he has his back to the door.”
Very slowly, I cracked the door a hair and peeked out. Then my breath caught.
Devin’s eyes were closed in relaxation as he supported his weight with one hand on the shower wall. His expressio
n was one of relief as water cascaded over his body in rivers. His profile was beautiful. Breathtaking. Like Michelangelo’s David, he looked like he’d been carved from smooth stone.
Scanning his hard lines and muscles, I stopped on his fantastic ass. Michelangelo himself couldn’t have sculpted one that firm, round, or bitable. If he had, it would have been called Michelangelo’s Devin.
But Devin's backside was in a stratosphere all on its own; it was its own masterpiece.
It was Devinangelo, naked butt from the gods.
“Well?” Poppy whispered.
“We can’t leave yet,” I answered as my mouth ran dry, unable to peel my eyes off Devin. I was hypnotized watching the water curl down, around, and over his ass. That is, until he turned and gave me a full frontal shot.
Oh . . . my.
I gasped and pulled the door closed too hard, slamming into Poppy. She steadied me when I fell back, whispering, “What? Did he see you?”
I shook my head in quick jerking motions and tried to breathe. The image of Devin fully naked was cauterized into my memory.
“Can we escape?” she asked, and I shook my head again.
“The shower door is clear glass,” I finally answered.
She didn’t respond for a moment, then she snorted. “You got an eyeful, didn’t you?”
“And back.”
“You’re an ass woman?”
I licked my lips. “I was until he turned . . .”
We both threw our hands over our mouths to keep from laughing, but our laughter died when the closet door was ripped open, and I fell face first into a very naked, very wet, and very pissed off man.
I lost my glasses as I tumbled forward and slid down his body. Then Poppy reached out to grab hold, but missed and took the wig right off my head.
I didn’t dare look up. I’d be eye level with his— well, you know.
“This day just keeps gettin’ better and better,” Devin growled.
Flipping over, I scrambled to my feet and stood up, grabbing a towel in the process and tossing it over my shoulder.
“You’ve got two seconds to explain what the fuck you’re doin’ here,” Devin hissed as I turned to face him. Oh, he was pissed all right. He looked like the Devil himself with his arms crossed over his chest while his jaw worked overtime. He also, I might add, hadn’t covered himself yet, which made it really hard to concentrate.
I bent down with my eyes closed and picked up the towel, throwing it at him again.
“Don’t use that tone with me, Devil man,” I bit back.
He ignored my warning and leaned in further until his crystalline eyes were all I saw. They weren’t cool like ice this time; they were molten fire directed at me. “Talk,” he bit out between clenched teeth, “Or so help me God.”
Yikes!
Okay, maybe I should tread lightly here. This was his family’s business and I was just his neighbor who’d crossed two lines in less than twenty-four hours.
Shit. Shit. Shit!
“Carmella called and needed our help, so we agreed. It was nothin’ nefarious.”
His jaw ticked.
Then he looked at the wig on the floor. “Wearin’ a wig to disguise your identity?”
My hand rose to my head. “Shit.”
“I’ll ask again,” he growled low, “what are you doin’ here?”
Avoidance 102: when confronted, turn the tables on the accuser to throw them off.
“Are you calling me a liar?” I bit out.
I wasn’t lying, of course, but considering the phone call he’d gotten from Strawn I could see why he would think I was.
He looked to the ceiling for patience, his jaw working the whole time. After a moment of reflection, which I figured included how to keep from wringing my neck, he answered. “I came home after a long fuckin’ night on a stakeout to find out you and your friends are nosin’ around in a murder investigation, and you expect me to believe you’re not here doin’ exactly what you’ve been ordered not to do?”
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. “If I say I’m helping Carmella, then I’m helping Carmella.”
He moved toward me then, crowding me deeper into the bathroom, his face a perfect example of a man done playing games.
“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you what the fuck you’re doin’ here,” he stated flatly, in a tone that brokered no argument.
“Or what?” I asked out of curiosity. “What are you gonna do, Devin? Call the police and tell them I cleaned a toilet wearin’ a wig?”
“I’ll just step outside and give you two some privacy,” Poppy said, inching for the bathroom door.
Devin turned on her as she opened it. “You’ve got two seconds to tell me what the fuck you’re doin’ here, as well.”
“Um . . . cleanin’?” she squeaked out, her eyes rounder than a hoot owl.
“I told you why we were here,” I butted in, glaring for all I was worth. “Carmella called us this mornin’ and told us Pierce’s office hadn’t been cleaned, what with Maria missin’, so we agreed to clean it for her.”
“That doesn’t explain the wig,” he returned.
I crossed my arms and bit my tongue. I didn’t want to explain my grandparents. There weren’t enough hours in a day to explain my grandparents properly, and one should never attempt it without an alcoholic beverage at hand.
He looked between the two of us when I didn’t answer, his eyes flashing with anger again.
“Ladies?” A call from downstairs broke the tension, and our attention swung to the open door.
Saved by Megan!
Since I’d vowed to take my life by the horns a few days ago, it had been turned upside down. But I was learning on the fly when to stand my ground and when to back down.
This, however, was another running situation. Strawn had been right when he said Devin would be pissed and I should hide. Time to take his advice.
I saw Megan’s distraction as an opportunity to make a break for it, so I pushed past Devin and grabbed Poppy by the hand, heading for the stairs and freedom.
“Later, Devil,” I shouted over my shoulder.
I chanced a look back to see if he was following us, and almost stumbled at what I saw. He was grinning from ear to ear as he finally wrapped a towel around his hips.
“I think he’s allergic to clothing,” I mumbled as we cleared the bottom step and ran smack dab into Megan.
“Is there a problem . . . wait, aren’t you the woman from the window?” she accused, then looked up the stairs at Devin.
“Devil will no doubt explain it all after we’re gone,” I said by way of explanation.
“Devil?” she asked.
“Devin,” I answered. “Same thing.”
Seven
This isn’t my Dress
ARRIVING BACK AT Poe an hour after our encounter with Devin, Sienna shut and locked the bathroom door as Poppy and I changed our clothes. She turned to us and leaned against the door, smugness written clearly across her face.
“I told ya you should have hidden. I’d say his reaction proves he’s interested in you,” she gloated.
I looked up and glared. “He was pissed because it looked like we were investigatin’ his cousin. Nothin’ more.”
Poppy snorted. “She’s S.O.S on this topic, so don’t even try.”
I directed my glare at Poppy. “S.O.S?”
“Stuck on stupid,” she answered.
“Am not,” I argued.
“Sugar, if you were any blinder to Devin, you’d need a cane,” Sienna laughed.
“You should have seen him, Sienna. If it weren’t for his cousin draggin’ him off to meet Billy Ray’s widow, he’d have cornered Cali again, I just know it. He kept glarin’ at her, yet ignored me. It was the classic ‘do I put her over my knee or kiss her ‘til she obeys me’ look you read about in books. I’m certain he would have hauled her into a closet and kissed some sense into her if we hadn’t hightailed it out of there before he could finish with Meg
an.”
I flipped my head over and pulled my long hair into a ponytail, ignoring their chuckles.
“He was pissed on Megan’s behalf,” I defended. “It didn’t have anything to do with me. He kept askin’ me what I was doin’ there. I get that. After Strawn’s phone call, I imagine findin’ us at his cousin’s place of business made it look like we were investigatin’ her. He was bein’ territorial about his family, is all.”
Sienna looked at Poppy, and she shrugged. “He did keep sayin’ ‘what are you doin’ here,’ not ‘what are you doin’ I forbid you from gettin’ involved with my case ‘cause you’ll get hurt.’”
“Hmm,” Sienna said. “Maybe we aren’t experienced enough to read this guy,” she finally admitted.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “None of us know men well enough to know what they’re thinkin’.”
“Okay, I’ll agree to that, but I know when a man is attracted to a woman,” Sienna returned. “I had to watch it for too many years while lusting after Chase, and the way he looked at his wife when they first met is exactly what I see in Devin’s eyes when he looks at you.”
“He looked like he wanted to kill her?”
She snorted.
“No. He had lazy eyes that smoldered when he followed her with them. He looked like he wanted to eat her pretty much twenty-four hours a day.”
“That must have been hard to watch,” Poppy murmured.
She shrugged it off, but I could tell by the way her eyes blanked that it cut deeper than she let on.
“Well, it doesn’t matter how he looks at me,” I said, trying to take Sienna’s mind off her past. “As I said yesterday, even if I misread him, it doesn’t matter. I took a chance, and when he turned his back to me, it hurt. I don’t want to experience that again. If I started somethin’ with him and he left, it would probably devastate me.”
“You know you can’t avoid heartache no matter who you go out with,” Sienna mumbled. “Life isn’t a bed of roses; there are plenty of thorns.” I started to open my mouth, but she held up her hand and stopped me. “I know you know this, Cali, but everyone in this room has lost somethin’ important to them. None of us want to experience that pain again, and you don’t see us holdin’ back.”