He hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but this was hostile. “We aren’t friends of Tristan’s.”
“Then why are you here?” she snapped. “To tell me about what kind of trouble he’s in? Because if that’s it, I don’t want to hear it.”
Sabrina stepped forward. “Mrs. Coulter—”
“Don’t be callin’ me no Mrs. Coulter. That man is dead. Ain’t nobody missin’ him, neither.”
If she felt that strongly about it, why hadn’t she changed her name? “Tia. We—”
“We’ve just spoken with Archer,” Sabrina cut him off. “Before you kick us out, please, listen.”
Tia closed her mouth and cocked her head. “You have five minutes.”
Lincoln doubted she gave either one of her sons that much time.
Sabrina began a methodical explanation of everything that had occurred, from Kirby Clark’s murder to Archer revealing Tristan’s blackmail.
“Archer has been trying to be free of Tristan ever since his divorce,” Sabrina said. “And now I have to find a way to clear my name. It wasn’t Archer you should have shut out of your life, Tia. It was Tristan.”
Tia stood calmly behind the counter, staring at Sabrina, taking it all in. When she’d finally absorbed what she needed, she boomed, “Come upstairs with me.”
Tia ambled her heavy frame over to the front door and flipped the closed sign so that it faced the window. Locking the entrance, she led them to the back. Lincoln trailed the women, diving through ugly beads and entering a work area that also served as a docking station. He climbed a narrow stairway, his face excruciatingly close and near eye level to Sabrina’s rear.
Tia unlocked a worn-out white door at the top of the steps. There was barely enough room for two people to stand on the landing, so Lincoln waited on the top stair.
Opening the door, Tia led them into a surprisingly quaint apartment. An antique-finished yellow-and-pastel-green table had a vase of white lilies in the center and tasteful yellow-cushioned chairs. Straight ahead, the narrow kitchen had been renovated. Glass doors in faint-green-painted cabinets revealed neatly stored white dishes and an assortment of glasses.
There was a giant white rug with thin brown-and-muted-green stripes spread in the small living room, a white sofa with colorful pillows, and a glass coffee table full of travel books. Light poured in from the living room window, white blinds up. A white bookshelf and glass TV stand completed the room.
The entire eye-catching decor clashed remarkably with the woman who lived here.
Tia removed a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator and poured it into three drinking glasses with ice. She didn’t ask if they wanted any, just handed them over. She seemed nervous.
“Tristan was always a handful, you know. Smart, though.” Tia smacked her lips with a sip of tea. “That boy was quick as a whip.”
She sat at the dining room table, so he and Sabrina did the same.
“I tried my best to help him. He was already in trouble when I married his daddy. Kids teased him mercilessly. He’d be rich by now if it hadn’t been for that. Smart as he was. Mmm-hmm.” She drank more tea.
“About the bullying.” Sabrina had her forefinger lifted. “Can you tell us what happened to those boys?”
“Jared and Dakota. Yes. Sad, that story is. They were out with some friends that night. Doing what kids do when their parents aren’t lookin’. Drinkin’. Smokin’. Toxicology reports confirmed it. Went over to a friend’s house and had themselves a good time. On the way home they lost control of their car and drove right into a ravine. Head-on with a big boulder at the bottom. Musta died instantly.”
“That’s terrible,” Sabrina said, more of a way to keep her talking, it sounded to Lincoln.
“Yes, I imagine, for the families. Can’t say I could pretend remorse at the time, I’m afraid. Tristan was a handful, but I had such high hopes for him.”
“Where was Tristan that night?” Lincoln asked.
“He told the police he went to the party those two boys were at before they wrecked their car.”
“The police questioned him?” Sabrina asked.
“Not whole lot. Tristan saw them at the party, and that’s it. He said they dumped a bowl of punch on him. Tristan never gave up trying to fit in. Ended up subjecting his-self to a lot of misery that way.”
“Did the police suspect foul play in the accident?” Sabrina asked.
Lincoln sat back and let her do the questioning. She was doing a fine job of it.
“Something mechanical went wrong with the car. Severed brake line or somethin’. I suppose that’s why they talked to everyone at the party.”
“Did anyone tell them that Jared and Dakota bullied Tristan?”
“The punch bowl came up. Police asked Tristan about it. He said it was all in fun. The car was damaged pretty bad in the accident, so in the end it was ruled an accident.”
The bullying hadn’t come up. Not the full extent of it.
“Did you ever wonder if Tristan may have...” Sabrina didn’t finish.
Tia didn’t need her to. Her gaze met Sabrina’s, wary, hesitating. “The thought did cross my mind a time or two. Especially after...”
“After what?”
Tia stood. “Let me show you somethin’.” Lincoln got up with Sabrina and trailed Tia to a spare bedroom. Tia went to a closet and retrieved a box from the back corner.
Lincoln took it from her when her grunts of exertion accompanied heavy breathing. He set it on the lime-green-and-brown-covered double bed. Some of Tia’s personality had made it into the bedrooms. There was a painting of a bright pink flower above the bed. Gaudy, but nice in a weird way.
Lincoln opened the box, and Tia began removing items. A baseball glove. A photo of Tristan with a dog. Some books. And then a wood jewelry box. Setting that on the bed, Tia opened it.
“Here are some pictures of Dakota and Jared. And a notebook,” Tia said.
Sabrina took the photos while Lincoln flipped open the notebook.
The first page had a date on it.
“He started that after those boys were killed,” Tia said.
Tristan had made a journal about all of his bullying experiences. Most were done by Dakota and Jared. The last entry was an exposé on the accident that killed the boys. It began with, “If I were the one who killed Dakota and Jared, this is how I’d do it....”
He showed the notebook to Sabrina, who lifted her eyes to his when she finished.
Spotting something shiny in the box, Lincoln leaned forward and saw that it was a pocketknife. Severed brake line...
“Do you mind if we take this with us?” he asked Tia.
“Why?” She looked worriedly from Sabrina to Lincoln.
“I’m going to give this to the police,” he said. “Just in case.”
“You think Tristan...” Tia didn’t finish. “I suppose it’s nothin’ less than I ought to have suspected.”
She should have given this to police as soon as she’d found it. Why hadn’t she? She’d estranged herself from Tristan and Archer. There must have been at least part of her that harbored hope they’d come around.
“When I first married Tristan’s father, his kids were my kids. I wanted us all to be a family. It’s what I always wanted.” She sighed and dropped the baseball glove she’d held on to. “I guess that jus’ wasn’t in the cards for me.”
Sabrina reached out and touched Tia’s arm. “Archer regrets treating you badly, Tia. He wants to make amends. Now that Tristan won’t pose a threat, maybe it’s time you gave him another chance. He is your only son. You’re only real son. You can still have a family.”
Tia stared at her, her big, blond hair as unmoving as she was right now. And then she broke down and cried.
“I’ve made mistakes in my life
. Lord knows I have. I ain’t never dreamed I’d see the day when my boy had a change of heart.”
Sabrina wrapped her arms around the big woman. “Give him a chance. You’ll see he has.”
“Thank you, girl.” Tia leaned back, mascara beginning to run down her overly made-up face.
Sabrina wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of person, at least not when her guard was up. More and more she was beginning to let it down. What would happen if she let it down with Lincoln?
* * *
Sabrina went with Lincoln to meet Cash Whitney, and they gave him the notebook and pocketknife. He told them he’d make sure the accident was reopened as a homicide investigation. Police would be looking for Tristan in connection to that as well as the kidnappings.
It was a great feeling. After all this time, it was finally over. She was free of Tristan forever. He’d be arrested, and she’d never have to see or hear from him again.
Falling back on the hotel bed, Sabrina stretched with a long sigh, happy that she’d be able to reclaim her life. Her lease was month-to-month in Denver. She could go back to Denver or she could stay here. One thing was for sure: she was quitting her job in Denver. Maybe OneDefense would hire her back.
Did she want that job? Should she look for a job in Denver or in California? She didn’t know what she was going to do. Lincoln appeared in the room. Their suite was good in size and very nice, the luxury of being once again innocent. No law chasing after them.
Looking down, she saw Lincoln lean against the wall near the doorway, legs crossed at the ankles, watching her. She could feel his tension. His eyes smoldered, but his thoughts were too heavy. She wished there was a way to woo him, to make him feel the way she felt for him.
And how was that?
As panic welled, she reasoned with herself. Her life was at a crossroads. Would it include Lincoln? Did she want it to? As she continued to look at him and he at her, that heat rising again, she decided she was going to find out. He was a good man. He was worth the risk.
Bounding off the bed, she said, “Let’s go out tonight.”
“Isn’t it a little early to celebrate?”
Tristan hadn’t been caught yet. Was he worried if it was safe? Tristan would be busy running from police. How stupid would it be to chase them? Sabrina wondered if the real reason Lincoln hesitated was that he’d be with her. Celebrating.
Was he afraid he’d brush too close to commitment, spending time with her without the purpose of tracking down Tristan? Tonight, the only purpose would be to enjoy the night...together.
That made her mad, and she rebelled. “We’re going out.” She scooted off the bed and went to the bathroom to shower. When they’d gone shopping she’d bought a couple dresses in case they had to go somewhere that warranted it. She’d say tonight warranted it. She was going to push Lincoln as much as she could. Torture him with sexiness. And see what happened.
They were going somewhere nice for dinner. And then they’d come back here and...then what?
Sabrina paused in the act of turning on the shower. Maybe she should think about this. She straightened, naked and ready to get sexy for Lincoln. Tall, muscular Lincoln. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, nice, patient, masculine Lincoln.
Would he be patient in bed? Was it worth the risk to find out?
When an answer didn’t come, she leaned into the shower and turned on the water.
* * *
Lincoln had changed into dress slacks and a matching white linen jacket with a blue shirt. No tie. And now they’d parked in front of the Kibalti Museum, a mansion of a Jewish family who’d moved here from Nazi Germany. He couldn’t pay attention while the tour guide led them through one spectacular room to the next, detailing the family’s escape from Germany, subsequent rise to wealth in the United States and the tragic end of the parents’ lives in a plane crash. Their three children had donated the mansion to a nonprofit organization. All quite interesting, but not as interesting as Sabrina in her little black dress. It showed off her thighs and breasts, an onyx pendant flirting with the top of her cleavage.
She’d had him when she’d stretched out on the bed. He didn’t need this added stimulus of her beautiful body in tight black spandex. He found himself struggling to keep from getting hard in the most inappropriate places. Here, for example. The tour was ending, thank God.
Seeing Sabrina’s happy smile as they left, he faced a new challenge. Her stunning face and the knowledge that his idea of bringing her here had lit it up.
He drove as fast as he could to the restaurant, which she had chosen. There was no stopping what would transpire once they returned to the hotel. He’d resigned himself to that, and hoped he wouldn’t feel the way he had before every time he’d touched her. Trapped. His insides twisted with equal amounts of apprehension and anticipation, whenever he thought of being inside her.
The drive to the restaurant was quiet. Sabrina thanked him for taking her to the museum and he said, “You’re welcome.” The rest of the way, they took turns sneaking peeks at each other.
At the restaurant, he parked and they sat there, neither getting out, even after seat belts were removed. Lincoln could tell she was as hot and bothered as he was. When she reached over and put her hand on his thigh, he spun over a precipice.
Twisting toward her, she met him between the seats, and they kissed. Holding the back of her head, he devoured her the way he’d been craving to for nearly the past three hours. He slipped his hand inside her dress and felt her breast. He had to have her.
“I want to take you back to the hotel room right now,” he said.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Are you sure?” He looked into her eyes, holding her head between his hands.
She nodded. “I don’t want to leave California without doing that.”
Whatever happened after that didn’t matter. She was letting her guard down all the way. For him. She wasn’t holding back.
It seared him with uncontrollable desire. He kissed her hard. She reached over and cupped his crotch, panting when she discovered him achingly ready for her. He couldn’t take it any longer. Breaking the kiss, he shoved the rental in Reverse and peeled out of the parking space. Racing for the highway, he caught sight of Sabrina, hand on the door handle, lips parted and breathing with passion. She wanted this, too.
He sped down the interstate, weaving in and out of traffic. Someone honked as he veered in front of them, leaving ample room, but probably startling them.
Sabrina laughed lightly.
Ten minutes later he turned the car over to valet parking. Taking Sabrina’s hand, he hurried with her inside. In the elevator, she backed him to the wall and kissed him. He put his hands on her backside and pressed her to his hardness.
“See what you’ve done to me?” he rasped.
“You already know what you do to me.” She kept kissing him as he grew hotter, remembering her wetness from last time.
The elevator doors slid open. Lincoln moved his hands up Sabrina’s back as an older couple stood outside the doors. They didn’t move to enter. The doors slid shut.
Chuckling with her soft laughter, he kissed her again. The elevator stopped at their floor.
Sabrina wrapped her legs around him as he walked with her down the hall, her dress hiking up her legs, indecently exposing her, but he loved it. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
At their door, she used the keycard to unlock it, and he carried her inside. They’d been able to stay in luxury again. Their hotel suite had a bedroom, a kitchen area and a spacious seating area with a wall of windows that offered a spectacular view of the ocean.
She kissed Lincoln as he carried her to the bedroom. He put her down onto the bed. She shimmied up the mattress, green eyes hot and sultry, knowing that he loved watching her. He took off his jacket and shirt while she stretched again
, waiting and watching.
He took off his shoes and pants and underwear. Naked, with his erection jutting out, he savored the way she looked him over before getting on his hands and knees over her. Taking the hem of the dress, he pulled it up her body, slowly revealing skin as he did. Tossing the dress aside, he unclasped the front hook of her bra, easing her out of it while he looked at her breasts, nipples pointing out toward him, perched on the round globes that begged for his mouth.
He took one in and caressed her with his tongue. While she moaned, he treated the other to the same loving. She opened her legs, and he went between them, lifting off her breast to look at her face while he entered her. She was so wet. A couple firm pushes and he sank into her.
He had to shut his eyes to the mind-numbing, incredibly intense sensation. He may have even groaned, he couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t going to take him long. He slid in and out.
“Wait,” she rasped, pushing his chest.
He rolled onto his back, fighting the onset of a powerful orgasm.
Straddling him, she took his thickness into her again.
“You think that will prolong it?” he asked her.
Smiling, looking down at him, she slid herself up and down, her hands on his chest. He gritted his teeth and held still.
Then she began to grind herself on him.
He swore, unable to keep still anymore. Pumping his hips, he rammed into her, eliciting cries from her. At the last second, he rolled her onto her back.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” she urged.
“I’m not going to.” He shoved into her again and resumed his hard penetration. Back and forth in rapid repetition.
She cried out as she came, and he thanked the heavens it hadn’t taken long. He came with the next thrust, collapsing onto her, still moving in and out as the pulsing eased.
With his head next to her, he kissed her neck.
“I guess we shouldn’t have waited so long,” she said.
He chuckled and moved to lie next to her, spooning. He’d think about what all this meant after they went back to Colorado. And he sensed Sabrina would do the same. For now, he planned on spending some time right here in this bed. Maybe in the shower. Maybe on one of those chairs in front of the window.
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