She swallowed and bowed her head.
Ah, hell. He planted a kiss on the top of her head, letting the towel slide a little lower. Her head popped up. He waggled his brows. “In this cabin, clothing is optional.”
He lowered his head to kiss her.
She leaned back. “Have you been drinking?”
“Yes ma’am.” He wrapped his free hand around the back of her head and planted his lips on hers. When she pressed her body tight against his, he pulled her closer, trapping the towel between their bodies.
She inched her face away and sucked in a huge breath. “You’ve been drinking a lot.”
“Um hmm.” He nuzzled her neck and ear. “Sorry you came over?”
She wedged her hands between their upper bodies and levered her chest away from his. “You’re drunk.”
“Not yet. But I’m gettin’ there.”
“Why?”
“Why?” He released her with a slight push. The forgotten towel plunged to the floor. “Well, let’s see. I probably won’t have a job to go back to. My certifiably fucking crazy, sometimes lesbian, ex-wife tracked me down and pushed all the right buttons to piss me off. The woman I love charged off in a temper tantrum on a half-wild horse from hell—”
“He’s not wild.” Her whisper, a sharp contrast to his loud obnoxious diatribe, stopped him cold. Her eyes widened. “Wait? What? Lo…You love me?”
Giving up on the idea of sulking alone, he closed his eyes and let his chin fall to his chest. “God help me, but yes I do.” He retrieved the towel, not bothering to re-wrap it and sauntered toward the bedroom.
“You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
While he dressed, Ketra busied herself with the casserole and, based on the clinking and clattering of plates and silverware, setting the table. When he returned to the main room he wore only faded jeans and a grin. If she came over here set on seducing him, he’d give her a run for her money.
“So, you can be domestic then? When you’re not riding all over hell on unpredictable stud horses.”
Her lips twitched, “I need to tell you about Lucifer.”
Trevor filled two glasses halfway with Don Julio 1942. He brought the drinks and the bottle to the coffee table in front of the sofa. He took up more than his share of the small coach when he sat next to her.
She wedged herself into the corner. “You’re having more alcohol?”
“Lucifer. Tell me about that damned horse.”
After a tentative sip, she flinched, squeezing her eyes at the burn. “He’s my horse. His mamma rejected him at birth. I became his surrogate. I’m the only person who can handle him. He’d never hurt me.”
He took a gulp of the amber liquor. He caught her staring at his mouth so he took his time licking the residue from his lips. He leaned into her. “So, all that bullshit out there—the hocus pocus crap—that was you making fun of me?”
“Uh huh.”
He stared at her for a long time. “You can be a real bitch, you know that?”
She grimaced and took another small sip of the tequila. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, resting it along the back of the sofa.
“I’m sorry.”
A lock of her hair brushed her cheek. He twirled it around his finger. “That would have been nice to know.”
“It would have been nice to know about your wife, too.”
“Ex-wife.”
“She said wife.”
He held her gaze, captivated by the depth of emotion in the deep blue pools. “I’m not going to apologize for her actions. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“She’s pretty.” Ketra stared at the almost empty glass in her hands.
“It doesn’t matter how pretty the package is. It’s what’s inside that counts. You can wrap dog shit in pretty paper and you’ve still got dog shit.”
“How did she find you? You said no one knows where you were.”
Trevor unwound his finger from her hair, gulped the rest of his tequila and leaned forward to re-fill his glass. “She charmed my mother, crying some sob story about not being able to find me and being so worried. Of course, that got my mom all worried, thinking I might be hurt or dead or something. Being the good mother she is, she suggested she check up here. She knows I used to like coming here.”
“So, your cover’s blown?”
“All to hell.” He downed another half glass of liquor.
“Are you going to drink that whole bottle?”
“Unless you can think of something better to do.”
Emotions wrestled on her face. After a couple of moments she treated him to a shy smile. “It’s kind of nice seeing you this way.”
“Emasculated?”
“No.” She brushed a lock of damp dark hair off his temple then splayed her fingers through his hair. With gentle pressure she massaged his scalp. “Vulnerable. I misjudged you. I condemned you just because you’re a man. And because you reminded me of Kyle. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.”
He studied her face. Is she being truthful or trying to mollify me? He captured her wrist and pulled her palm to his lips for a feather-light kiss.
“Well, since we’re being honest, I’ll admit that I was prepared to hate you, too. Because you’re a woman.” He kissed her palm again then ran the tip of his tongue along the life line. “My plan was to come here and hang out with the guys. Do guy stuff, talk guy talk. I wanted to forget about Heather. I needed to work on getting my self-esteem back.”
Ketra set her glass on the table. She took his hand and stood. “I can help with that.”
She placed her hand around his, silently beckoning him to release his hold on the glass. He did. She walked her fingers up his naked chest. When her hands reached his shoulders, she leaned him back against the sofa cushion and whispered in his ear. “I have a way to make you forget all about Heather.”
She kissed him, tunneling her fingers in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her, following her lead. She kissed his jaw and neck, nipping his earlobe. When she straddled him he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.
“If you’re gonna seduce me, sweetheart, I wanna be as comfortable as possible. I want to enjoy every minute of it.”
“I never thought I’d say this, but…I want you.” Her voice, a timid whisper, raised goose bumps on his bare skin. “I’ve never wanted a guy the way I want you now.”
“So take me.”
She removed her boots and sweater. When her trembling hands fumbled with the buttons on her jeans, he brushed them aside. Without taking his eyes from hers, he freed the stubborn fasteners and slid the denim down her legs. She stepped out of them when they pooled at her ankles.
She reached for the waistband of his jeans.
“Take off your underwear first. I want to look at you.”
She hesitated before reaching behind her back. She unfastened the hooks on her bra and let the garment slide down her arms. Instead of tossing it to the floor, she wrapped it around the back of his head and guided his mouth to her chest. He suckled each breast and glided his hands down her back, whisking her panties to the floor. He rubbed his hands along her sides. She shivered. His tongue wove a wet path up her shoulders, neck and cheek, coming to rest between her parted lips. He inhaled the fruity fragrance of her hair as he curled an arm around her. She struggled to remove his pants.
He braced himself on one elbow and chuckled. “In a hurry, huh?” He shucked his jeans and gathered her back against his chest, spoon fashion.
“I meant what I said, Ket.” Infused with liquid courage, he bared his soul. “You scared me on that horse. Please don’t do that again.”
“Ride my own horse?”
He growled. “No, smart ass, don’t scare me again. Although it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you never rode that animal again.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Trevor ignored the insistent buzzing of his cell phone. Focusing wasn’t possible with his head foggy from alcohol and his body sated from loving Ketra. Their coupling began leisurely, taking time to savor and explore the other’s body. But when thunder rumbled and flashes of lightning engulfed the room, Ketra became a different lover. As the storm raged outside, tension built inside her, culminating in an urgency for comfort and release that matched his own hunger. When the dam of his pent-up anger burst, they soared to the peak of passion together. From that moment on, nothing would ever be the same between them.
The phone trilled, announcing a new voicemail. The clock on the bedside table read midnight. He extricated himself from Ketra’s arms, swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on a pair of sweat pants. The only person who would call at this hour was Denny. He eased the bedroom door closed behind him. Denny’s message was brief. Anticipation shot through him like a blast of frigid air. He hit redial.
“It’s me.”
“We’re still putting all the pieces together, but it looks like your hunch about the Hamilton kid is the link. Brian Hamilton’s for sure connected to Southwestern National Construction. Clay Leland, Southwestern’s corporate in-house bookkeeper, slash accountant, slash embezzler, has been hauled in for questioning. He’s admitted that he’s been skimming money for about four years. Guess how he got the job in the first place?”
“Hamilton?”
“Yup. Leland was a member of Hamilton’s campaign staff. Hamilton groomed him specifically for placement into a big corporation, like Southwestern, to fund his political endeavors. Leland’s not the only guy stealing corporate monies for Hamilton. He’s got several hand-picked former staffers ensconced into corporations across five states.”
“Holy shit.” He filled a glass with water and swallowed four aspirin. The remaining water in the glass he splashed on his face. He needed to be alert if he expected to help Denny sort through the pieces of the puzzle.
“Hamilton hires guys in California to be part of his staff. He trains them to keep double books and erase paper trails. Then he looks for big companies in need of top notch bookkeepers, sends a resume and a glowing recommendation. Who’s going to question a stellar recommendation from a high ranking political figure? The guy gets the job. Plays by the book for a while. When the time seems right, his dirty deeds training kicks in and Hamilton’s bank starts showing the rewards. A nice little scam.”
Rivulets of water dripped from his chin to his chest. His brain tried to process the information. “What made them suspect Leland?”
“According to Annie, their lead was George Wemberly. He also worked in accounting for Southwestern. Wemberly found out that Leland was skimming. He threatened to rat on him. Leland offered him a cut to keep him quiet. Wemberly agreed but he claims he had no idea Leland was giving part of the money to Hamilton. He assumed he and Leland were getting equal shares.”
Trevor repeated key words in his mind, an effort to retain the relevant parts and key players. He thought about taking notes but didn’t want to risk waking Ketra by fumbling around for paper and pen.
Denny continued spewing information. “When the Feds questioned Leland, he said that Hamilton called him and demanded a larger amount of money than normal. Said it had to be cash. He didn’t say why. When Wemberly found out how much money Leland had taken, he got scared. He said the amount was too much to slip under Southwestern’s radar and he wanted out before they got caught.”
“Leland didn’t trust that Wemberly would keep quiet.” Trevor hoped he hadn’t mixed up the names.
“Right. And Wemberly knew that Leland didn’t trust him. He also knew they wouldn’t get off easy if they got caught. That’s when he went to the FBI. He agreed to talk in exchange for immunity. He told them Leland bilked a large amount of cash the night of your little show down. He didn’t know who the money was for, only that Leland was leaving the money in a briefcase in the safe.”
“That explains why the Feds where there.” Trevor sat on the couch and massaged his temples, bridging his forehead with his thumb and middle finger. “Damn it, Denny, this sitting around is driving me crazy.”
“There’s not much you could do here anyway. IRS has been alerted and we all know how fast that’ll shut down an investigation. We’re turning our files on the embezzlement case over to them and washing our hands of it. I’ve told the Feds everything I know about the shooting investigation.
“They know Southwestern asked us to keep an eye on their cash flow situation. I told them that Ace was tailing their bookkeeping employees and it was Ace who came to us after he’d overheard Leland and Wemberly talking in a bar one night. The night Wemberly told Leland he wanted out.”
It took several seconds for Denny’s words to sink in. “Washing our hands of it?” Where does that leave me? “What have they got on Glaskel?”
“I’m sticking with the theory that Glaskel was picking up the cash for Hamilton. At this point no one knows for sure. It makes the most sense. He probably wore his uniform as cover. If anyone questioned him, or if something went wrong, he could say he got called to investigate.”
Trevor didn’t know if he’d missed something in Denny’s recitation of facts or if he was too hungover to make the connections. “So Glaskel got himself killed doing a favor for Hamilton? What was in it for him? He must have been promised something to risk his career?”
“We’re still working on that. Besides Glaskel’s calls from and to Hamilton, there were two other incoming calls on his phone. Within a couple days of the incident, a Byron Sanchez called. Sanchez is a prison guard at OK Pen. We just got Sanchez’s phone records this afternoon. There are several calls to and from Brian Hamilton on his phone as well. My guess? Sanchez is the one Hamilton’s been paying to keep Kyle safe during his incarceration.”
Trevor tried to recall past conversations with Denny. He repeated what he’d figured out so far. “Hamilton called Leland the day before Kyle was due to get out, asking for a large amount of cash. Hamilton sent Glaskel to pick it up from Southwestern. Why Glaskel? Why such a large sum? Why cash?”
“The Feds picked up Byron Sanchez. We’ll have to wait to find out anything more. Nothing we can do in Oklahoma from Arizona. We need them on this one.”
“I’m sick of waiting.” Trevor plopped down on the couch and forced a more pleasant tone. “If Ace confirmed we were following up on his lead and George Wemberly confirmed the same tip, why are they still looking at me? If I was working with Glaskel, why’d I shoot him?”
“Until someone can explain Glaskel’s presence at the scene—not just wager a guess—no one’s off the hook for anything.” Trevor frowned at the weariness in Denny’s voice. “I’m guessing, it’s FBI being FBI. They don’t suspect you, they just want you out of the way.”
“Get some sleep Denny.”
“I’ll let you know what they find out on Sanchez. Don’t hold your breath though. He may not cooperate.”
“I could go over there and get some answers.”
“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that. If I find out that you’ve been anywhere near the state-line I’ll have you suspended for a very long time.”
Swallowing an expletive, Trevor slammed his fist into the soft sofa cushion.
“This is almost over. Annie’s been keeping me informed. I hope to know more in the morning.”
“I’ll be expecting your call.”
“I get the feeling this will all be wrapped up soon and you
can come back home.”
Home. Trevor frowned. Sadness crawled over him at the prospect of leaving the Diamond D.
“Oh, one more thing,” Denny added, “Noah’s been moved out of ICU. Looks like he may be able to go home in a couple more days.”
Trevor closed his eyes and sighed his relief at the good news. “That’s great.”
“He’s not gonna think so. The doctors are almost certain he won’t pass the physical exam. He’ll have to take a desk job.”
“Shit.” The pounding in his head intensified. How could he return to work without his partner? “Might as well put another bullet in his head then.”
“He’s lucky he’s alive. He’s young. Adaptable. He could make a career change or teach at the academy.”
“There’s no way in hell Noah will sit at a desk. Or teach a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears kids.”
“That’s up to him.”
Trevor wanted to pick up the phone and talk to his partner, be there for him for moral support. But Noah needed rest. A phone call in the middle of the night isn’t conducive to resting.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Donaldson.” Denny warned. “You’re in the home stretch. Just a few more days and this’ll all be over.”
“Good night.” Trevor clicked the end button and tossed the phone on to the table in front of the sofa. Closing his eyes, he re-played the events of that night in his mind. Noah got into position behind the dumpster. He confirmed his location in the radio. Glaskel walked around the corner of the building, toward the side entrance. Noah’s voice on the radio asking about the newcomer.
They announced their presence from their hidden positions, identified themselves as law enforcement. Glaskel rounded on them. Pulled his weapon. Fired. Noah moved out from behind the dumpster. The force of the impact knocked him down. Noah lay motionless on the asphalt. Anger rose like hot lava as Trevor fired at Glaskel.
Trevor rose and reached for his weapon. But he wasn’t wearing his holster. Or his belt. Or his uniform. He jerked out of his reverie. In his living room, in a pair of worn sweat pants, he stood ready to shoot an invisible enemy with an invisible gun. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Frustration whooshed through his lips.
On Common Ground Page 24