by Deborah Camp
“I read about him on the Internet. There are a couple of tabloid articles about you and him and the bad blood between you two. It’s fascinating, I must say! It’s all conjecture, though. You know how the tabloids are – they fill in the blanks with titillating lies. Still, your background is so murky. I wish I’d had the time to delve into it!”
The sound of carefully placed footfalls whispered into the room and Levi glanced behind him at the partially opened door. He spied a shadow, but his attention whipped back to Forté as he sensed movement. He saw the dark gun arc up and the gleam of Forté’s teeth even as he braced for the impact of the bullet. “Goodbye, you lovely thing you.”
The roar of the gun echoed off the low ceiling and inside Levi’s head. Instinctively, he ducked and moved sideways, even though he knew that such evasiveness was futile. Cops burst in behind him, shoving him aside. Levi blinked, realized that the red mist hanging in the air was blood, and then registered that he was looking at only half of Forté’s skull. He turned away as his stomach tried to crawl up into his chest cavity. The smell of blood made him choke.
“Had to be a hollow point bullet,” one of the cops murmured.
Vaguely, Levi was aware of the three men and one woman wearing SWAT vests. He turned his back on the bloody scene and bent over, resting his hands on his knees and locked his arms as he waited for his body and mind to settle. He hadn’t seen that coming. But he should have. No way would Desmond Forté want to spend even a minute with all the losers in jail and prison. Still . . . Levi shook his head, trying to dislodge the morbid scene that kept clinging to his eyeballs.
He righted himself and moved woodenly to the open door and outside to breathe in air that wasn’t laden with death. Tipping back his head, he sucked in great gulps of it until his lungs no longer burned and his head and vision cleared. Looking around, he noted the squad cars parked along the street, roof lights flashing, an ambulance pulling up, its siren dropping from a scream to a wail, and a few people standing in the driveway. Detective Bonifay. Trudy. His heart lurched.
Trudy stared at him with frosty green eyes. She stood with her legs slightly apart and her arms crossed in front. She looked sexily bad ass in her short, black leather skirt, white satin camisole, and black gladiator sandals. Slowly, she shook her head.
He shrugged. “You got my Bat-signal.”
She stared. No. Make that, glared.
Uh-oh. He was in trouble.
Chapter 20
Orange plastic chairs were the most uncomfortable things ever, Levi thought as he squirmed in his and glanced beside him at Trudy, who was still giving him the cold shoulder. He pretended to be interested in the detective division, but there wasn’t much action. A few guys sat at desks, talking on phones or tapping at keyboards. Two women detectives stood nearby discussing their plans for the weekend. Dinner. That new movie starring Chris Hemsworth and how goddamn gorgeous he is . . . blah, blah, blah.
Levi rocked sideways, nudging Trudy. Might as well have it out now. “It was a calculated risk. I let you and the detectives know where I was and that you needed to get there fast.” He waited for a response that didn’t come. “Oh, and by the way, I’m fine. No injuries.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “I sensed you were nervous . . . edgy, but unharmed. Otherwise, I would have been hysterical.”
“Hysterical? Why?”
She lashed him with her glare. “Why? Why?!” She was whispering, hissing at him. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I would be upset if someone shot you. Call me crazy.” She huffed out a breath. “He could have just as easily shot you first and then himself.”
“He could have, but that wasn’t his plan,” he whispered back to her with an air of confidence that he didn’t totally feel. “He wanted to talk to me and I wanted to hear what he had to say. He thought I’d write a book about him.”
“Which you will.”
He thought for a second. “Yes, I probably will.”
She was quiet for a minute and when she spoke again, she didn’t sound as put out with him. “Did he say anything worth risking your life for?”
“The salvage yard wasn’t the only burial place he’s used.” Satisfied with the glint of interest he saw flash across her piquant features, he added. “He started murdering when he was in college.”
“Did he tell you where he buried the others?”
He grimaced. “A place where they’ll never be found. In the swamps.” He nodded at her sound of regret. “I know. He dismembered them first.”
“Oh, God.” She shivered. “Gross.”
“Gross is an understatement.” Forté’s flirtations toward him made his gut cinch again. He cleared his throat along with his mind. “Anyway, case closed. Right?” He grabbed her hand and she didn’t pull away, but her slender fingers didn’t curl around his either. “Right?” he insisted, giving her hand a squeeze. “Come on, Trudy. Don’t do this. I knew what I was doing.”
“You could have sent the signal and waited for the police before you went inside that room.”
“No. That wouldn’t have worked. He wouldn’t have talked to me with the police there. He wanted a private conversation.”
“Why?”
He breathed in slowly, wondering how or if he should voice it. She beat him to the draw.
“Because he had the hots for you?”
Blinking hard at her, he glanced around the room, hoping no one had heard her. He leaned closer, his voice barely emerging. “Christ, Trudy! Don’t broadcast it.” He gave her a cease-and-desist glare when a smile poked at the corners of her mouth.
“Bonifay and Dupree already know. It embarrasses you?”
He didn’t bother to answer, but send her another “shut it” glare. Looking well pleased with herself, she crossed her legs and swung one sandaled foot. She did that thing with her chin, angling it up, poking her cute nose into the air. He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she was moaning and pressing that sweet body of hers urgently against him. He wanted those shapely legs around his waist and her hands clutching his hair.
“I suppose he saw you as intellectual equals,” she said, breaking into his lascivious thoughts. “Did he say anything about A.J.?”
“Yes. He said he’d made a mistake choosing him as his protégé. He said that Kind has ADHD.”
She considered this, poking her nose up higher. “Yes. I think he’s right. All that nervous energy and restlessness that I experienced in him. That definitely fits.” As if feeling his gaze on her, she turned toward him, eyebrows arching at what she observed in his expression. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re sexy.”
As he expected, she rolled her eyes at his blatant compliment. He moved his lips closer to her ear.
“I want to push that skirt up higher and lick your—.”
“Kind has finally stopped talking,” Rodie Dupree said as he approached them with Alice Bonifay at his side.
Levi stood. “Is that right?” He shook the detective’s beefy hand. “What shut him up?”
“We told him that Forté offed himself. That took the wind right out of his sails.”
“He lawyered up,” Bonifay said, accepting Levi’s handshake, as well. “Poor demented guy took his Sensei’s death harder than I thought he would.”
“Hey, look what was found on Forté,” Dupree held up a clear evidence bag that contained a gold ring. “Yeah. My wedding band. Crazy bastard had it in his trouser pocket. You figured he’d stolen it, but wonder why he kept it on him?”
“One upmanship,” Levi said. “It made him feel even more superior to you. That he was in control.”
“Yeah. He was definitely cra cra,” Bonifay said. “Did he reveal anything useful during your talk with him?”
“Yes.”
Dupree gave one of his swift smiles. “Care to share?”
“Sure.”
Dupree motioned for them. “Let’s get this all on record and then you two are free to go.
Guess you’ll be heading back to Georgia.”
“That’s right,” Levi rested his fingertips in the small of Trudy’s back as they wove around desks to the interrogation rooms.
Reaching around her waist, Trudy grasped his hand and linked her fingers in his as she smiled up at him. “It will be good to be home again.”
###
On the flight home, Levi had been quiet. Too quiet. Trudy had tried to engage him in conversation several times, but he’d answered her with monosyllables or vague comments. She assumed business matters preoccupied him.
At the penthouse after she’d reconnected with Wes and Mouse, she was surprised to see a large vase of white and blue carnations awaiting her on the dining room table. And that wasn’t all.
As she’d admired her favorite flowers, she’d discovered another gift from Levi that had brought instant tears to her eyes. Sitting there beside the vase was a green Depression glass spoon holder, complete with a few utensils in it. She’d spun around and had flung her arms around Levi’s neck, surprising him so that she knocked him off balance a little.
“You bought me the spoon holder!”
He’d laughed at her exuberant reaction. “Yes. I take it, you approve.”
“Thank you.” She rose on tiptoes to kiss him. “How did you know?”
“The lady who owns the antique shop steered me in the right direction. There’s something else in there for you.”
Curious, she’d examined the holder to find a stunning antique choker of tiny pearls and gorgeous emeralds. Her first reaction had been to admonish him for the extravagant purchase, but she bit back the words because she hadn’t wanted to anger him and she did want to learn to be gracious about such gestures.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Levi.”
His knowing smile had told her that he’d been fully aware of her effort to be appreciative instead of dismayed by his lavish generosity.
“Thank you, Trudy,” he’d said. “And you’re welcome.”
“Carnations, jewelry, and a Depression glass spoon holder I coveted. What brought all of this on?”
“I enjoy making you happy,” he said with a shrug, turning away as he gathered up a stack of envelopes off a side table. “Now, I have mail to go through and about two dozen emails to answer . . .”
Work had consumed him the rest of the day. That morning before he’d headed back to work, he’d told her that a woman would be by, bringing a wardrobe from which she could choose what she liked and send back what didn’t work for her.
Diane Fosburgh had arrived looking like a cool blond right out of an Alfred Hitchcock thriller. With her came racks of clothing, shoes, purses, and undergarments. It had boggled Trudy’s mind, but in the span of three hours, she’d managed to whittle the wardrobe down to selections she knew she’d wear and enjoy. Some of the undies were what her mother would call “slutty,” but she knew that Levi would have a different opinion of them.
Glancing at the kitchen clock as she moved restlessly with Mouse at her heels through the penthouse, she wasn’t surprised to see that it was almost eight o’clock. Levi had texted an hour ago, swearing he was headed home in just a few more minutes.
“Levi’s minutes somehow turn into hours, Mouse,” she’d groused, then she heard the elevator hum and dashed out to the foyer to meet him. When the door slid open, she gave him a resounding kiss on the mouth before he could even step out of the car.
“Hello to you, too,” he said, curving his free hand around her neck and pulling her closer again for a second kiss. “I thought you’d be ticked off because I’m so late. It seemed that you missed me today.”
“Of course, but I know you’ve been super busy – as have I.”
“With Diane? Did you like any of the clothes she brought?”
“I did. In fact, about half of them are still here.”
“Good.” He took her hand and they walked into the apartment together. He stopped to pet Mouse, who stood on the back of the sofa as had become her habit, waiting for his attention. “Wes isn’t still here, is he? I told him to go home by six.”
“He obeyed. Have you eaten dinner? There’s a chicken casserole I can warm up.”
“I had a catered dinner earlier with some of my refab team. It was a big day of meetings.” He dropped his leather briefcase onto the table beneath the large photograph of a wolf and loosened the knot of his tie.
Trudy went into the kitchen to pour him a glass of milk and grab a sack of Oreos. She placed them on the table and smiled when her gaze fell on the spoon holder sitting proudly next to silver and crystal salt and pepper shakers. It still got to her that Levi could be so thoughtful.
He eased into “his” dining room chair and took a big swig of milk. “Ahhh. Thanks, Tru.” Then he opened the Oreos and removed a couple of them. With the expertise of a seasoned dunker, Levi submerged half a cookie into the glass of milk before consuming it. It was a technique he’d learned as a child, taught to him by his mother. The only memory from his childhood that made him smile.
“You said that you can’t bargain with retail prices,” she said, unable to keep the accomplishment to herself a moment longer.
He arched a dark eyebrow and consumed another half of a milk-soaked cookie. “I did.”
“You’re wrong. I negotiated better prices for every single item.” She couldn’t help but beam. The whole process of dickering with Diane had worn her out, but she’d felt triumphant when it was all settled. “In fact, on some items I paid half price.”
The other eyebrow rose to join the first. “Did you?” He shook his head. “I hope that made you happy.”
“It did. Supremely happy.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
She regarded him, struck by this recurring dedication to her happiness. He wasn’t feeling guilty about something or insecure, was he? “Diane was nice.”
“Yes. She’s a class act.”
She toyed with a napkin and a notion. “Did you have sex with her? Before us!” She held up a cautionary hand when she saw the anger flash in his eyes like lightning. “It’s okay if you did.” When a scowl line appeared between his eyes, she sought to erase it. “I thought you might have because she’s so clearly your type.”
“My. Type.” He bit off each word.
“Blond. Big boobs. Beautiful. From the photos on the Internet, you nearly always dated blond women with at least D cups. Lovely women. Pageant winners. Actresses. Minor and major celebrities. Diane fit in with them.”
While she’d been talking, he had finished off the milk and moved aside the empty glass and bag of cookies. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, then unknotted his tie and removed his onyx and silver cufflinks slowly, meticulously. He dropped them into the pocket of his charcoal shirt and stood up. Still holding her gaze, he unbuttoned his shirt and yanked it from his waistband.
Her mouth went dry.
“My type,” he mused.
Trudy held her breath, waiting for him to detonate. She couldn’t tell if he was simmering with anger or . . . something else. He reached for her, cupping his hands under her elbows and guiding her up out of the chair and toward the wall of windows. Standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and angled his lips a hair’s breadth from her ear.
“I didn’t have a type until you came along. I’ve met some wonderful women, but I’ve never been attached to any of them. Not until you.” He kissed her ear.
“Not even Sissy?” She rested her arms on his that circled her waist.
He stared at her in the window’s reflection. “Not even Sissy. Listen, to be honest, Sissy and I were . . . well, fuck buddies.”
She saw her eyes go wide.
“Yes, it’s crass, but that’s what we were to each other.” He kissed the side of her neck, his lips soft and seeking her quickening pulse. “We have stressful jobs, and when things got too much for either of us, we’d meet up and relieve the stress by fucking.”
Trudy wrinkled her nose. “Ewww.
”
He chuckled and his breath was warm against the sensitive skin below her ear. “Yeah, I know, but it was okay by us. We didn’t want any strings or to feel beholden to each other. It was what it was.” His arms tightened around her as he lifted his head and met her gaze in the reflection again. “You, Trudy Louise Tucker, you are my type. My only type.”
Her heart filled her chest and tears filled her eyes.
“Look out there. See the stars and the moon? The lights of the city spread at your feet? Do you see it all, Trudy?”
“Yes,” she whispered, blinking.
“I want to give it all to you, along with everything I own. I want to share it with you. Only you. Do you get that, Trudy? Am I making myself crystal clear?”
She tipped her head back against his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting the sentimental tears fall. “Yes, Levi. Crystal clear.”
“I’m going to set up a meeting for you with my financial advisor and attorney so they can discuss with you the scope of my businesses and business holdings.”
Huh? She drew in a breath and lifted a hand to erase the tear tracks from her face. “That’s not necessary.”
“It is necessary, Trudy. Everything that I have and everything that I am is yours.”
She shook her head, overcome with emotion.
“You need to know what you’re stepping into. Compromises will have to be made, baby, by both of us. To keep my charity and other philanthropic activities in play, I will have to network with donors. That means dinner parties, galas, art exhibits, business openings, and the like. You’ll be expected, not to just accompany me, but to be part of it all. And I’ll participate in any activities you take on.”
She let that settle, envisioning slices of the life he described. He’d gotten used to it all, so she could, too. She was proud of his charity work. It was a manifestation of his big heart and the tender side of him that he didn’t often show to anyone but her.
“I worked damned hard to get where I am today.” He shifted behind her as he released her. He ran his hands up and down her arms before they dipped under her shirt. “I thought it would make me comfortable and accomplished. So, you can imagine how depressing it was for me to not feel that way.” With a quick flick, she felt him unfasten her bra and then his hands replaced the lace. Warm, wide palms rubbed her nipples, masculine fingers squeezed her breasts. “I was always reaching, doing more, risking more, grabbing at more in hopes of achieving a better sense of self-worth. Then I made love to you and with you came everything I’d dreamed of – no, more! For the first time, I felt pure joy just by looking at you, being with you, holding you.”