“You taste so sweet, Mel,” I mumbled, catching her nipple with my lips. I sucked, enjoying the feel of it hardening against my tongue. “Do you like that?”
She nodded, her hand stroking my cock. She pushed me further back onto the bed and climbed on top of me. I put my hands on her hips to help her keep balance as she fumbled with a rubber. Rolling it over my erection, she lowered herself onto me.
God she felt good. She laughed as I dug my nails into her ass cheek, grinding her hips against me, as my dick moved through her tightness. Her palms lay flat on my chest, her fingers pulsating as she pushed herself further down.
“God, Coop!” she cried. A pained look crossed her face as she closed her eyes, about to come.
I chuckled, amused at how relaxed she got once she had a few drinks in her. She pressed her body against mine.
“Someone’s worn out,” I smirked, kissing her neck.
I rolled her onto the bed until she lay facing me, staring at me. Only she wasn’t staring. There was no light in her eyes, nothing. My heart pounded as the reality of this began to sink in. I frantically searched for a pulse. Nothing.
Fucking hell. Shit, shit. Fuck.
I’d just fucked a sixty-year-old married Oscar-winning actress to death.
Chapter Nineteen
“Melinda!” I said, shaking her shoulder frantically.
She didn’t move. Her eyes were open and clouded. I’d never seen a dead body before, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was looking at one now. I ran over to the table where I’d put my phone, nearly tripping over my shoes.
Shaking, I dialed 911.
“Hello? I need an ambulance! I’m at The Stanton Hotel on Fifth, the penthouse suite. I—I think she’s had a heart attack.”
Fuck, how the hell could this be happening?
“Okay sir, what’s your name? We have an ambulance on the way. Is she responsive?”
“Liam, and no. She . . . I think she’s dead. Her eyes are open, and she’s not breathing. She’s so pale and her lips a . . . are turning blue.” I ran my hand through my hair, not sure what to do. I felt like I was frozen. Everything I thought I knew about how to cope in an emergency had jumped out the window.
“Okay, I need you to try and feel for a pulse. The medics are just arriving now. Is the door open?” she asked me. I put my shaking hand on Melinda’s neck, trying to find the pulse.
Still nothing.
“No, the door is locked, and I can’t feel a pulse,” I replied, on the verge of tears. Her skin was still warm to touch. “What do I do?” I yelled, distraught, clutching my head. Fuck, my head was a mess.
“Sir, what I need you to do is give her chest compressions. I want you to put me on speaker and sit the phone on the floor. Can you do that?”
Nodding, I set the phone to speaker and put it on the floor beside me. “Now what?”
“Okay. Lay her flat on her back. Loosen any clothing around her neck. Now, I want you to measure two hand lengths from the hollow of her neck to the vicinity of her chest.”
My college first-aid elective was slowly coming back to me. I measured two hand lengths and placed my hands on her chest.
“Okay, now press, one, two, press, one, two, press, one, two. Can you keep doing that until the ambulance arrives?”
“Yes,” I replied, starting the compressions.
“Good. I’ll stay with you on the line. You’re doing great, Liam. Really great. The paramedics have arrived, and they will have a key.”
I jumped at the sound of a loud banging on the door. “Okay I think that’s them now.”
“Liam, we’re coming inside.”
Two men walked in carrying a bag and a stretcher. “Thanks, Liam. We’ll take over from here.”
I stepped back, grabbing the towel off the chair and wrapping it around my waist. The worst thing was I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do but stand there and watch.
They worked on her for close to twenty minutes, one pumping air into her lungs, the other doing the compressions. Finally, the first guy shook his head. They both stood up.
“She’s dead?” I said, in a high-pitched voice.
“I’m sorry. There was nothing you could have done.” He bowed his head, his expression grim.
Fuck. What the hell do I do now?
I clasped my hands behind my head, trying to think. I kept seeing her vacant eyes below me. I’d known Melinda for nearly four years. I considered her a friend, but right now, grieving for her wasn’t even on my radar.
The only thing I could think about right was protecting her name. She was married, for fuck’s sake, with grown children and grandchildren. I didn’t want this to be the way people remembered her.
If this got out . . . well, these kinds of stories forged c areers for reporters. The press was going to eat this up.
“What happens now?” I asked, in shock.
“The police are on their way, which is standard in all fatalities,” he explained. “We’ll wait here with you until they arrive.” His tone was so soft, so apologetic.
Did he even recognize her? Judging by his reaction, I doubted it.
“Are you feeling okay? You look like you might be going into shock.” His brow furrowed in concern. “Stand up for me, and we’ll sit you down on the sofa.”
I nodded, numb. I stood up, catching the towel just before it fell from my waist. He slowly walked me over to the living area, where I slumped down onto the soft cushions, stretching myself out as he placed a blanket over me. I was so cold. I shivered and rubbed my arms, trying to get my blood flowing.
“I’m just going to take your blood pressure, okay?”
Again, I nodded.
“Can you . . . should you cover her up or something?” I asked, freaking out. I gasped, feeling dizzy. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was sucking air through a straw.
She was just lying there, she looked so exposed, so vulnerable. I hated seeing her like that. God, what would her husband think? Her kids?
“I’m sorry, until the police get here we can’t contaminate the area.”
I nodded. In case I’d killed her. Is that what they were saying? I glanced down at myself. “Can I get dressed? And call someone?” I asked.
He looked surprised. “Don’t get dressed just yet. I want your blood pressure a little higher before you stand again, but you can call whoever you need to. I’ll get your phone for you.”
He looked at me, pity in his eyes, as he handed me my cell. I took a deep breath, which did fuck-all to calm my nerves, and dialed.
“Hey, Coop, what’s up?”
“Beth, I’m in a bit of shit. I need your help.” I had no idea what to say.
Hey, can you help me out? I’ve just killed a client.
My head was spinning, and my stomach churned, like I was going to throw up at any second. “Can you come to me? I’m at The Stanton, on Seventh.”
“Coop, you’re scaring me. What’s going on? Are you okay?” Her voice rose, the muffled sounds of traffic evident in the background. “I’m on my way. I was going to a meeting right near there, so I shouldn’t be long.”
“Thanks, see you soon. Oh, I’m in the penthouse,” I added, almost forgetting to tell her what room. Shutting off the phone, I looked up and saw that the paramedic who’d been speaking to me was talking to two police officers and a man in a suit, who I guessed was a detective.
I tried to calm the panic that was rising in my chest. Surely they didn’t send out detectives to every fatality? I glanced around for the other paramedic to find he’d disappeared.
The first paramedic nodded in my direction, and the detective turned to me, while the other two officers walked over to Melinda’s body.
I stiffened as he approached. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a suspect. Maybe I’d watched too many detective shows, but something about the way he was looking at me made me uncomfortable.
I attempted to swallow, my throat suddenly dry and coarse, like sandpaper.
“What’s your name, son?” He put his hand out.
I tentatively shook it. Son? The guy looked barely thirty. Either he was trying to intimidate me or he thought I looked younger than I was. Or maybe he looked younger than he actually was. Fuck, now I was just thinking shit.
“Liam,” I replied, forcing my voice to sound strong. “Liam Cooper.” He sat down in the armchair next to me. Now I sound like a contestant on The-fucking-Price is Right.
“Okay, Liam, why don’t you run through what happened here? Do you know her?” he asked, flipping open his notepad.
I laughed, earning myself a glare. Did I know her? She was naked in bed, and I was wearing only a towel. What, I just happened to wander into her room in my towel, and find her dead?
“Of course I knew her,” I said, unable to keep the attitude out of my voice.
The detective scowled at me. This wasn’t going well.
“Look, I’m an escort. I’ve known Melinda for four years, which is how long she has been one of my clients.”
He looked at me, his eyes widening. “Melinda?” He glanced over his shoulder to the bed, recognition suddenly kicking in. “As in . . . “
“Melinda Diveno,” I finished, nodding.
His eyes grew wide as he processed what I was saying. “Fuck me,” he drawled, followed by a low whistle. “Can anyone vouch for you and your . . . career?”
God, the last thing I wanted to do was get my other clients involved, but how else was I going to prove I wasn’t just some lowlife who had broken into her hotel room to rape and murder her?
It was a little far-fetched: a happily married, Oscar-winning actress using the services of an escort? Her family would tear me apart, not to mention her fans.
“My phone,” I said suddenly. “I’ve been seeing her for that long. You’ll find phone calls and texts from her going way back. And I also have tax records for the past six years.”
He nodded, slowly. “I’m going to have to take your phone.”
“You, uh, do you need to check any other numbers that are in here? I have some clients . . . their reputations would be ruined if this got out,” I said.
“This investigation will remain confidential, Liam,” he assured me.
I looked up to see Beth walk into the room. Her eyes grew wide, almost bulging from her head as she took in the scene. She was just Beth today, no disguise or cover.
The detective glanced at Beth, then back to me.
“This is another one of your clients, I take it?” he asked dryly.
Beth gawked at me. “What the hell is going on?” she gasped, her mouth dropping open.
The detective straightened up. “Are you one of his clients?” he asked her, not getting the information he was after from me.
She nodded, and extended her hand. “Bethany Masters,” she said, raising an eyebrow. She turned back to me. “Coop, what the fuck is going on?”
The detective glanced from her to me. “Will you be willing to give a statement about your relationship with Mr. Cooper? We need to verify his . . . services.”
“Oh, I can tell you a lot about his services.” She winked playfully.
I cringed. Not the time, Beth.
The detective actually went red. “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Masters. We just need you to confirm that he is actually an escort.”
“Oh, well I can do that,” she agreed.
He called one of the officers over. “Officer Jackson will take your statement now, if you have time.”
Beth nodded. I watched as the officer led her away, over to the desk on the other side of the room.
After a few more questions, I was allowed to get dressed and leave. The detective handed me his card and told me to call if I remembered anything else.
I’d asked what would happen next. He told me the coroner would do an examination to rule the cause of death, which they expected to be a heart attack.
The fact that they believed me—or at least seemed to—lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. I stood up and grabbed my clothes, pulling myself into my pants. Beth wandered back over to me as I was buttoning up my shirt.
“Everything okay?” I asked her.
“Yeah, it’s all good. They said I can go.” She glanced back over to the bed, where a group of medical examiners were now going over her body. “What the hell is going on, Coop?”
I grabbed her hand. “Not here,” I said, leading her out of the room. “I will tell you everything, but right now, I need to get the hell out of here.”
Chapter Twenty
Beth and I made our way down to the foyer in silence. Just as we were turning the corner, she yanked me behind a large plant.
“What?” I asked. I followed her finger and saw what she was pointing at.
Shit. Gathered outside the front of the hotel were at least twenty photographers.
“Fuck,” I cursed.
“It’s okay. Come this way.” She grabbed my hand and walked back past the elevators. “There is a service entrance out this way that exits down the alley behind the hotel. That alley also connects with Eighth Street.”
I raised my eyebrows at her.
“What? When everyone knows who you are, you need an escape route for everywhere,” she said defensively. She grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me out the door.
This is insane. I’m running away from one disaster and into another.
Anyone who saw Beth just then would have known right away who she was. With no disguise, she was every bit the pop starlet that featured in all the gossip pages.
We pushed open the emergency exit door, and, upon noting the coast was clear, darted up the alleyway toward a little café just off Eighth. We sat down at a table in the far corner of the almost-empty shop.
“So,” Beth began, digging through her purse and pulling out a scarf. She twisted her hair up into a bun and tied the scarf around it. “Do you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Not really,” I mumbled.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Okay,” I replied. “That, up there, lying dead on the bed, was Melinda Diveno.”
Beth’s eyes bulged in shock.
I nodded grimly. “I fucked her to death, Beth! I think she had a heart attack. One minute we were laughing, and the next, she was . . . gone.”
“Holy fuck-stains,” Beth muttered, shaking her head slowly. “Shit, shit, shit.” She glanced at me. “What did the cops say?”
I shrugged. “That they believe it was a heart attack, they just need the coroner to confirm.”
“There you are, then,” Beth said, relief filling her face. “You’ll be fine.”
“But it’s not that simple,” I argued. “You saw those photographers. They have to know she’s dead, and they probably know how she died. How often does a scandal like this come along?”
Beth nodded, finally getting it. She pulled out her phone and began to click away. “Okay, so yes, you are correct. The top story is Melinda’s death, and yes, they do mention the presence of a sex worker. But there is no mention of you,” she added, hopefully.
“Not yet.” I ran my hands through my hair, pissed off with myself. “I’m so cautious about protecting my clients, Beth, but we’re talking about six years of this shit. There is bound to be someone who is going to leak this. Someone will want the money badly enough.”
Beth reached out to me, her hand covering mine.
“Relax, Coop. That might not happen. If it does, you’ll deal with it.”
“I have to tell my family,” I said. I caught Beth’s frown. “If they found out through the media . . . “
“So tell them, and then just let all this die down.” Beth was quiet for a moment. “What about your mystery girl?”
“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about.
“The one you like.”
Shit. Mia. Fuck. Oh, god.
I groaned loudly, burying my face in my hands. What was I going to do? If Mia found out, then any ch
ance we had of a relationship was gone.
“Tell me about her, Coop. She is obviously very special to you.” Beth smiled at me, her eyes showing a twinge of sadness.
“She is. I can’t even explain how I feel about her, Beth. She is amazing, caring, sweet, funny . . . I think you would really like her.”
Beth’s eyebrows raised as she waited for me to continue.
“When I’m not with her, I’m thinking about her. I notice every little thing about her, like the way she sticks her tongue out a little when she giggles, or when she gets passionate about something, her eyes go such a deep, deep green that they’re almost black . . . and it’s crazy, but I enjoy our long chats about nothing just as much as I do being physical with her.” I stopped, embarrassed. Beth didn’t need to hear all this.
“I think it’s sweet,” Beth said wistfully, “that you’ve found someone you feel that way about.”
“You’ll find it, too,” I said, sensing her sadness. “You’re so young, there is so much you have yet to experience. Don’t rush it, Beth. Enjoy being young. Don’t look back on your life in ten years and wish you’d done it differently.”
Beth shook her head and laughed. “Well, this conversation suddenly got very deep and serious,” she joked. “Come on, we should be okay to leave now.” She pushed back her chair and smiled at me, the smile not quite reaching her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-One
Parking the car out the front of Nic’s house, I sat there for a moment, running through exactly what I was going to say. Fuck. I felt sick. After the day I’d had, the last thing I wanted to have was this conversation, but the risk of my name being leaked was too real for me to ignore.
I walked up the path to the front door and knocked. Jake opened it a few moments later, looking surprised to see me. He stood aside. “Coop! Come in, man. I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Yeah, I didn’t even know myself,” I said, forcing a smile. “Nic home?”
Jake nodded. “In the living room.”
I walked through the kitchen to the living room. Nic was curled up on the sofa, her eyes glued to the TV. I glanced at it and groaned. A full picture of Melinda at the previous year’s Academy Awards was on the screen.
Tease Page 13