A Lover's Vow

by Brenda Jackson

  Moments later, when they were able to breathe again, he pulled her into his arms and licked the side of her face before whispering, “Let’s take this to the sofa.”

  Too weak to resist, and doubting she would have even if she could, she wrapped her arms around his neck when he lifted her. They paused momentarily to grab his pants off the back of one of the chairs. “I need more condoms.”

  And as she looked at the broken chair on her kitchen floor, she knew what she needed was another chair. A sturdier one.

  * * *

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Jules’s lips lifted in a smile. “Is that the doer whining?” she asked, easing her body off Dalton’s.

  He frowned as he pulled up into a sitting position on her sofa. “Hell, I’m not whining, just asking a question.”

  “One I don’t intend to answer. I believe you’re the one who showed up tonight at my place for a booty call. At least my sofa stood the test. You owe me a new kitchen chair, by the way.”

  Dalton chuckled. “You’ll get it. It was worth breaking.” He glanced around at all the papers spread on the coffee table. Papers he had shoved out of the way when he’d taken her on the sofa. That was before she began taking him. Riding him senseless into a new day. He leaned forward to straighten up the papers, and his hands froze when he saw what the documents were about. “You’ve got information on Marshall Imerson?” he asked, glancing over at her.

  She nodded and adjusted her position on her sofa, wondering how many couples sat naked while talking on a sofa like it was a normal thing. But she didn’t feel like going to the kitchen for clothes. Besides, they hadn’t made it to her bedroom yet.

  “Yes, and it wasn’t easy. The records were sealed.”

  Dalton’s brow lifted. “Sealed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Good question. I believe it’s because of the shitty way the initial police report was handled. There were so many red flags that, as a cop, I would have pursued. However, the police officer on the scene didn’t.”

  Dalton didn’t say anything for a minute. “Tell me what you’ve found out so far, and this time I am interested in what you’re thinking.”

  So now he’s interested in my mind and not my body. Jules smiled at the thought and told him just what she’d deciphered from the police report so far. “The former cop in me thinks it’s clearly a cover-up, but there’s no way to prove it. I intend to take a road trip later today and visit Imerson’s wife, Leigh. She moved away not long after the accident.”

  “To where?”

  “Steeplechase. I want to see if perhaps there’s another file somewhere, or if he mentioned anything about the case to her.”

  “Sounds like you’re going to be busy today, but then so am I. I’ve called Jace and Caden for a meeting at my place this morning at eight.”

  Jules’s brows drew together. “Why?”

  Dalton released a deep sigh. “It seems that the trade-secret scandal is deeper than we assumed.”

  “How so?”

  Dalton shared with Jules what Percy had told him just that night. “Wow,” she said, shaking her head. “When will it end?”

  “Don’t know. As long as there’s greed in the world, people will do what they think they need to do to get rich quickly and illegally.” He glanced at his watch. “Time sure flies when you’re indulging in pleasure.”

  Jules chuckled. “Is that your way of saying it’s time for you to leave?”

  Dalton grinned. “I’m sure Stonewall wishes that was the case.”

  Jules sat up straight. “Stonewall? Stonewall followed you here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he’s sitting out in front of my place?”

  “More than likely. It’s a wonder he didn’t break the door down all those times you screamed. I guess he could decipher an ‘I need help’ scream from an ‘I’m having an orgasm’ scream.”

  Jules frowned over at him. “I can’t believe you allowed him to follow you here.”

  “Baby, he’s the one who led me. I didn’t know where you lived.”

  Jules’s frown deepened. “And he did?”

  “Obviously. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  She opened her mouth to say something about him being a smart-ass, when she suddenly found herself lifted into his arms when he stood up. “Show me your bedroom, Jules.”

  “What if I told you I don’t want to?”

  “Then I would be forced to make you change your mind.”

  “Think you can?”

  “Think I can’t?”

  She drew back and stared up into his face. “Your arrogance is showing, Dalton.”

  He gave her that smile that made her heart go thump. “We’re wasting time, Jules. You have a busy day ahead of you, and so do I. So what do you say?”

  She couldn’t say anything with the feel of his erection pressing against her buttocks. “I don’t think you can make me change my mind, but now is not a good time to prove it.”

  Twenty-Five

  “Just when I hoped we had put the trade-secret scandal to rest and we could turn our attention to getting Dad out of prison, this happens,” Jace said in disgust, pacing Dalton’s living-room floor.

  “We’ll get Dad out of prison—nothing about that has changed,” Dalton said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Especially since...”

  When he stopped talking in midsentence and began studying the contents in his coffee cup, Caden asked, “Especially what, Dalton?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jace’s and Caden’s gazes met again, and Dalton knew he’d almost made a slip. He’d promised Jules he wouldn’t let anyone know of her involvement in investigating their dad’s case just yet. “So what do we do about what Percy told me?”

  “Percy Johnson,” Caden said thoughtfully. “He was a couple of years behind me in school, but I remember him. Great quarterback. And you hired him to work for us?”

  “Yes, and I’m glad I did.”

  “I’m glad you did, too,” Shana said. She had begun pacing when Jace stopped.

  Dalton glanced over at his sister-in-law. Was it his imagination, or had her stomach nearly doubled in size since the night of her dinner party?

  “I remember him, as well,” Jace said. “He was all-star even in middle school. He could throw a football farther than any quarterback I knew. I’m surprised he didn’t make pro. I heard he got a full ride to some university in South Carolina.”

  “He did but turned it down.”

  Jace raised a brow. “Why?”

  “He got his girlfriend pregnant.” Dalton chuckled softly. “I’m sure you know how that works.”

  Shana spoke up rather quickly and said, “We need to let Marcel know what’s going on.” Dalton was convinced she’d spoken so quickly to diffuse her husband’s wrath. In other words, to give Jace time to reconsider kicking his ass.

  “I agree we need to let Marcel know,” Caden chimed in.

  “And Bruce, as well. There might be a connection with that computer and the one Brandy used,” Shana tacked on.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Jace said, pacing again. “Certainly sounds like it.”

  Dalton thought it amusing that when Jace began pacing, Shana stopped, and when Shana stopped, Jace would begin. How could two people be so in tune with each other? That was weird. But hadn’t he and Jules been in tune with each other those days and nights in Miami and last night, as well? Even now, the sounds of their moans and groans mingled together in his mind to make perfect harmony. And the way their bodies were so in sync when they made love. The rhythm was majestically perfect.

  He hadn’t left her bed until almost six this morning and had rushed through traffic to get here and shower before his br
others arrived. The last thing he needed was for them to get in his business, especially when it concerned Jules.

  He jumped when a finger was snapped in front of his face. “What did you do that for?” Jace, Shana and Caden were staring at him like he was some oddity.

  “Hate to interrupt your daydreaming, but Shana was asking you a question,” Jace said. “She called out to you several times.”

  Dalton’s brows pinched together. Had she? So what if he had been daydreaming? He was allowed to do so every once in a while. “Sorry, Shana, what did you want to know?”

  “Is it possible for Bruce and Marcel to talk with Percy Johnson today? They will want to know exactly which computer he was working on. Knowing Marcel, he’ll want to investigate with as few people knowing as possible, like the last time. He’ll only inform those at Granger he feels he can trust.”

  “Good idea, and I suggest they talk to Percy away from the office, especially since we don’t know who else might be involved,” Dalton said. He then looked over at Jace. “How well do you know John Castor?”

  Jace shrugged. “I don’t know him any better than you do. He’s been working for the company close to twelve years. He’s married. Two kids in high school.”

  “So he was hired after Dad left,” Caden said, as if thinking out loud to himself.

  “Yes. And he did come to Shana’s dinner party,” Dalton said. “I saw him there.”

  Shana nodded. “I’ll find out everything I can about him,” she said. “As well as everyone who works in his department. That information will be available to you within forty-eight hours, if not sooner.”

  Jace nodded and glanced around at everyone in the room. “What’s going on at Granger is pretty serious, but we still need to meet with Carson on Friday to discuss how to proceed in getting Dad’s verdict overturned. And the only way we can do that is to hire someone to find the real killer.”

  Dalton took a sip of his coffee and said nothing. Little did they know that Jules was already working on it. He couldn’t wait to see their reactions once they found out what she’d been doing in her spare time.

  * * *

  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Mrs. Imerson,” Jules said as the woman led her toward the rear of the house where the enclosed patio was located.

  “No problem, Ms. Sweet, although I’m not sure what I’ll be able to tell you. Marshall never brought work home, and he never discussed any of his cases with me.”

  The woman gestured Jules to a chair that overlooked a huge lake. In the distance, the tops of mountains could be seen above the branches of tall oak trees. The patio was completely glassed in, and heat was provided by an old-fashioned brick fireplace.

  “I hope you don’t mind sitting out here, but I love looking out over the water. It’s so peaceful,” Leigh Imerson said, taking the chair across from Jules.

  “Yes, it is,” Jules agreed. The drive from Charlottesville had been a peaceful one, as well. She’d taken the scenic route away from the hustle and bustle of traffic. The only traffic she had to be concerned with were the occasional riders taking their horses out for exercise.

  She arrived in Steeplechase right before lunchtime, and since she hadn’t eaten breakfast, she’d made a pit stop at one of the local diners. Steeplechase was one of those beautiful, quaint cities where you would want to retire, because there was no way for you not to be drawn to the cobblestone streets, bike paths and walking trails. And she’d seen the numerous horse farms that overlooked the Blue Ridge Mountains.

  Sitting at the diner while enjoying lunch gave her a chance to unwind...and relive last night’s memories. A part of her was convinced that last night had been a mistake, and she should not have slept with Dalton again. But then, honestly, who slept? That was why when she returned to Charlottesville later today, she intended to go home and crash. What if Dalton showed up later, figuring after Miami and last night that she was open to having some sort of an affair with him? Of course, she didn’t want to have an affair with anyone and needed to let him know that. The last thing she wanted was for him to think things about their relationship just because they’d messed around a few times. Okay, it was more than a few times, but still, that was no reason for either of them to start getting any crazy ideas.

  “Would you like some tea, Ms. Sweet? I just made a pitcher of my mango tea.”

  Jules had never drunk mango tea before and decided to try it. “Yes, thanks. I would appreciate a glass.”

  “Then please excuse me for a minute.”

  Jules watched as the woman stood to head to the area of the house she assumed was the kitchen. Leigh Imerson was an attractive woman who appeared to be in her midfifties. But even with her sparkling smile, Jules saw sadness in her eyes. Marshall Imerson had died almost four years ago, and Jules assumed the sadness was still for him.

  She recalled that she and Shana would often return home from one of their high school functions to find their father sitting in the living room alone. And although he would smile brightly when he saw them, there had always been a degree of sadness in his eyes.

  From what Manning had found in his research, it seemed that the Imersons had married right out of college. Marshall had gone to work for the Charlottesville Police Department for a short while before becoming detective...similar to the paths both she and her father had taken, Jules thought.

  Imerson had been a good detective and transitioned into the role of private investigator with ease, building a successful company. Everyone thought he was a fun-loving family man, and those who’d been interviewed after the accident had never seen him take a drink. But their statements hadn’t been enough for the police to investigate further.

  Jules glanced around, deciding she liked this house. It was spacious and sat on what had to be at least five acres of land. The furnishings were nice, and the artwork was a mixture of contemporary and abstract. For someone who was supposed to have been facing financial ruin, which was purported to be the cause of Imerson’s drinking problems, it seemed that Leigh Imerson had done pretty well for herself after her husband’s death. Manning was spending the day investigating just how deeply in debt Imerson had been, or whether that rumor had been anything more than a smokescreen.

  “I baked some chocolate chip cookies this morning and thought you might like a few to go along with your tea,” Leigh said, entering the room carrying a tray with cookies and glasses of tea.

  Jules stood to help her. “Why, thank you, Mrs. Imerson. Cookies and tea sound nice.”

  “You’re welcome and please, call me Leigh.”

  “And you can call me Jules,” Jules said as she selected several cookies off the tray.

  Deciding she needed to broach the reason for her visit, Jules said, “I read the police report on Marshall’s auto accident, Leigh. It claims he had been drinking the night he died. The report indicated that a liquor bottle was on the seat beside him, and that he’d smelled of liquor.”

  The smile faded from Leigh’s face. “I know what that police report says, but it’s not true. Marshall did not drink.”

  “But how do you explain the liquor bottle in the car and him smelling of liquor?”

  Leigh shook her head with a look of confusion clouding her eyes. “I can’t explain it. All I can say is that someone deliberately tried to ruin Marshall’s reputation, and I don’t know why.”

  Jules took another sip of her tea before asking, “Did you tell anyone what you thought? That you didn’t believe the police report?”

  “Yes, but the chief of police at the time claimed he had proof.”

  “What about a BAC test? Why didn’t you request one to verify Marshall’s alcohol concentration level?”

  “I did and was assured one would be done. However, after I had Marshall cremated, I found out someone had dropped the ball and the test hadn’t been done.”
<
br />   Jules wondered if someone had dropped the ball or had deliberately made certain that the test was never done. Was that the reason the police report had been sealed? Because of a monumental screwup? “At the time of his death, Marshall was working on an investigation for Richard Granger. Did you know that the report went missing after your husband’s death?” she asked.

  Leigh shook her head. “No. Like I told you earlier, Marshall never discussed work with me, and he never brought any work home as far as I know. So I have no idea where that report is or what happened to it. I even told that same thing to the man who came asking about it a few months after Marshall’s death.”

  Jules’s brow bunched. “Do you remember the name of the man?”

  Leigh nodded. “Yes. His name is Ivan Greene, and he’s currently running for mayor of Charlottesville.”

  Jules tried to keep surprise out of her face as she bit into her cookie.

  Twenty-Six

  Sitting at his dining room table, Dalton listened as Marcel interviewed Percy. Hearing the man’s account a second time, as well as focusing in on the questions Marcel was asking, made Dalton realize just how serious the situation was and just how fortunate they were that Percy had been so attentive to certain things. Things that might otherwise have gone unnoticed.

  His brothers and Shana had returned when Percy and Marcel had arrived. Bruce Townsend was there, as well. Marcel was the one asking questions, but Bruce was furiously jotting down notes. Jace was pacing, Shana was typing something on her tablet and Caden, who had obviously missed lunch, was hungrily snacking on a bag of chips he’d grabbed off the kitchen counter.

  A short while later, Dalton watched Marcel draw in a deep breath, evidently satisfied with his line of questioning. Then Bruce began asking questions of Percy, and it seemed the two men began speaking a different language with all that computer mumbo-jumbo.