BLACK WIDOW (Book #1 of The Black Widow Series)

by Jenni Moen

  If he so much as mentioned my name there, there was no chance he’d come back to me.

  I watched him brush the broken glass it into a pile with the sole of his shoe. Small pieces, big chunks, and tiny, tiny slivers. Fragments of our time left together. “Did you not feel safe at the spa, Celeste? I thought you enjoyed it. I’ll give you my friend Trevor’s number. If something happens, he’ll be here in minutes.”

  I managed to nod my head. I wasn’t worried about what would happen at the hotel. My imagination was too busy conjuring up all the possibilities of how my name might come up at the police station.

  Have you met anyone in town? Celeste Smythe would be his answer.

  Are you seeing anyone? Celeste Smythe would be his answer.

  Do you have weekend plans? I would be his only answer.

  I wanted to be his only answer.

  I stood, and the wine went straight to my head. I took a few wobbly steps and a moan slipped out. I'd kept it together all week. For just a few days, I want something normal, I’d said. Normal was slipping away.

  I could hear his voice, reassuring me that he wouldn't be gone long, but the fog in my head was so thick I couldn't find my way back to him.

  You’ll be fine. Your name won’t come up.

  Right. Yes. There was a chance those horrible men wouldn’t care about his personal life. A chance they wouldn’t ask any of the questions I imagined. And then he would come back to me. But the damage was done. Unknowingly, he’d delivered a cruel reminder of what was inevitable. If not tomorrow, then soon.

  "Are you all right?" he asked. "You don't look so good."

  "I don’t feel so good."

  Was this what love felt like? I couldn’t remember.

  HIM

  She’d passed out in my arms. One minute, she was fine, and the next, she was gone.

  I looked over at her as our cab flew down Grand. Her coloring, still greenish when we'd left the boat, was back to normal. She twirled a piece of her hair around her finger while watching the city pass by.

  I was unsure of how to bring up the elephant in the car with us, but I knew I needed to. Tonight, she’d only had three glasses of wine, and it sent her into a tailspin. At the resort, I’d seen her have more and still be able to walk the line. The inconsistency in her behavior would’ve been more perplexing if I hadn’t already figured out the cause. Elena’s medication had come with a warning sticker on the side. Mixing it with alcohol was unadvised, and now, I knew why.

  I’d stalled long enough that she brought it up first.

  “I’m sorry about tonight.” Her chin dipped, and she rubbed her hands down her legs. Her eyes were sharper than they had been and showed her obvious embarrassment. “You planned this incredibly romantic night, and I ruined it.”

  I shifted on the slick vinyl seat. “You didn’t ruin anything. We had an incredibly romantic night.”

  She looked away and swallowed. “Right up until I got too drunk to stand up. I told you. I sometimes get out of control.”

  “Maybe it’s something we should talk about when you’re sober.”

  She nodded and gave me what appeared to be a grateful smile just as we pulled up to the hotel. I threw some cash at the cabbie and slid out of the car. After helping Celeste get out, I wrapped an arm around her waist and ushered her through the hotel lobby. In the elevator, she leaned heavily against the wall and sighed.

  Otherwise, we were silent during the thirty-two-floor ride. Not a word was spoken as we walked down the hall to our room and I locked us inside. Immediately, she kicked off her heels and reached for the zipper on her dress. When she couldn’t quite reach it, I helped her. My thumb grazed across the soft, creamy skin exposed by the falling zipper. But by the time the dress fell to the floor with a soft thump, I’d already shut myself in the bathroom.

  It didn’t bother me that we’d had to cut the night short, and I didn’t even mind that she was drunk. It wasn’t as if it was the first time.

  Going on a trip with someone you don’t know puts you in an interesting, if not precarious, position. The learning curve is steep when you’re sharing a room, meals, a bathroom, and, of course, a bed. I’d seen Celeste in almost every imaginable state. Amused. Serious. Flirtatious. Shy. Devastated. Injured. Deadly calm when I thought she shouldn’t be and panicked when I didn’t understand why. As I looked in the mirror, snippets of our time together flashed before my eyes.

  Celeste twirling in her driveway, her face turned up to the sky.

  The look on her face when she’d surprised even herself by kissing me in her backyard.

  Shrinking away from me when she thought I’d pushed her.

  Eyes full of defeat when she told me who she’d suspected was behind it.

  Drunken Celeste with fiery eyes when she’d surprised me in the bathroom.

  The bashful smile on her face when she’d stood naked before me the next day.

  Her head thrown back when I’d pushed inside her the first time.

  A satisfied smile when she’d laid her head on my chest.

  I’d known from the start there was more to Celeste than met the eye, but she had more layers than I could have imagined. Just when I thought I had one figured out, I’d find a snag and pull it back to discover another. It was what drew me to her and still kept me here, even though I needed a little distance from her at the moment. She was a puzzle. A riddle I wanted to solve. And if I wanted to believe my brother, my attempt to resurrect the past.

  I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and sent him the text I’d meant to send earlier. Our first night in Starved Rock, did you and Sierra return the card game to the lobby?

  The room was dark and quiet when I slipped beneath the sheets. Even with my brother’s warning still echoing in my head, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against my chest.

  It was true; some of her puzzle pieces didn’t fit like they should and I liked her more than made sense. But for some reason, I was okay with that. Maybe it was because I had so many misshapen pieces of my own.

  HIM

  I was up before the sun. I moved stealthily around the room while I got ready to go, careful not to wake her. From a sack hidden behind my bag, I pulled out the journal I’d happened across while on my shopping spree. I opened it to the first page and scrawled out a note.

  Celeste,

  The spa is expecting you at 11:00. I promise I will be back before you're through. I saw this journal while I was shopping yesterday and thought of you. Write something. Anything.

  If you need inspiration, think about our week together. We’ve been through a mugging, a bar fight, a road trip, and cliff diving. Surely, there's some material there for you to use. The other stuff is fair game, too, if you're complimentary.

  See you soon,

  Scott

  I crossed to the bed and laid it beside her so she wouldn’t miss it. The black and white striped cover was the perfect match for the living contradiction sleeping in my bed. At any given moment, she was the brightest sunbeam wrapped in the bleakest shadow. She was abandoned dreams camouflaged with hopeful optimism. A heavy-hearted past struggling against an uncertain future.

  I resisted the urge to bend down and kiss her. Instead, I memorized the sleepy tranquil features of her face. The gentle slope of her nose. The sweet curve of her lips. The freckle on her left cheek. And I silently apologized for how cold and distant I’d been the night before. Amazing how everything can look so much better in the morning.

  She had hours to sleep before her first appointment, and after the night she’d had, I imagined she needed each one. But as if she felt me there, her eyes fluttered open, and she caught me in the act of admiring her.

  She reached out a hand. "Don't go yet." Her voice was raspy with sleep.

  "The sooner I go, the sooner I'll be back,” I said, sitting beside her. I gestured to the journal. “I left you a note.” Her eyes fell on it, and she smiled. "Do me a favor today and write a few words, yeah? Just see where it g
oes." I raised an eyebrow in question.

  She nodded, but her smile slipped. “I'm really sorry about last night. I know I got …" She looked away and sighed. "Too drunk. Again."

  I picked up her hand, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. "I’m sorry too. We can talk about it later, but I’m not upset with you. Only worried about you."

  Her lips pressed into a flat line, and her eyes closed. “Scott.” She slid her hand across the bed and onto my leg. "Make love to me before you go?"

  "You'd make me late?" I teased her.

  "Please.” The plea was as apparent in her eyes as it was in her voice.

  She seemed so small and fragile. Vulnerable even. Any reservations I’d had the night before were long gone. As I bent and slipped a hand behind her head, it occurred to me—not for the first time—that I might break her if I wasn’t careful. Funny, since she’d made it clear from the beginning that I would be the broken one in the end.

  I could've taken the train, but I was in a hurry. Celeste had slowed me down, but I could hardly regret it. She'd successfully ensured I'd have nothing but her on my mind for the rest of the day.

  I jiggled her keys in my pocket as I walked into the precinct. She'd given them to me before I'd left, along with the alarm code to her house and a list of things she needed for the benefit that night. I planned to leave the bike at her house and bringing her car back with me to Chicago.

  I walked up to the front desk and asked to see the chief. The only concern in my head was how quickly I could get through this and get back to her. I had no idea everything was about to fall apart. Though maybe if I’d been paying attention during the last week, I wouldn’t have been taken so off-guard.

  My new commander introduced himself as Thomas Knight. After we’d stopped by payroll to fill out the necessary paperwork, he took me to the chief’s office.

  Chief Tollson stood when I entered. I’d expected to be treated as just another new face on the team, so I was a little surprised at his apparent excitement over my arrival.

  “I’ve heard great things about you from Commander Rogers. He and I go way back,” Chief Tollson said.

  I nodded and expressed my respect for the man I’d worked under in Chicago for more than a decade.

  “Rogers said you cracked a three-year-old abduction case and returned the girl to her parents.” I met his eyes and nodded. I’d known it would come up eventually, but I’d hoped for a longer reprieve. It wasn’t even my first day yet, and they were asking me to relive some of my worst memories from Chicago.

  “It’s nice when we see our hard work pay off,” the chief continued. “You must be pretty proud of yourself. From my understanding, the perp wasn’t even a suspect until you picked up the case.”

  “It was a memorable day,” I conceded. I couldn’t and wouldn’t say much more than that.

  Marcus Isaacs had been interviewed twice, but I’d been the only one to see the monster simmering beneath his placid eyes. Of course, none of the other detectives had spent years and years studying—obsessively, some would say—every child abduction case they could get their hands on.

  “Too bad they still haven’t found the guy.”

  I swallowed and forced a grimace.

  “He won’t be able to hide forever, though. He’ll resurface eventually.”

  “Yes.”

  A frown formed on the chief’s face. “Well, I’ve got one I’d like you to take a look at. It’s not an abduction. Technically, the case was ruled accidental and is closed, but we received some new evidence this week that might shed new light on it. I’d look at it myself, but I have a conflict of interest, so I can’t touch any of it.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Knight shifting on his feet.

  “Knight will show you where your desk is, and I’ll let him fill you in on all the details.”

  "Absolutely," I said, when what I really wanted to say was, I'm not on the clock until Monday.

  I looked at my watch. It was already ten thirty. Celeste would be on her way to the spa soon for her first appointment. If I wanted to hit my apartment before going to her house and be back before she was done, I needed to leave soon. I certainly didn’t have time to delve into a new case file.

  “Of course, I don’t mean for you to do it today.” It was as if Chief Tollson had read my mind. “I’m sure you have weekend plans.”

  “I’m headed back to Chicago.”

  “One last hurrah?” he asked with a sly smile.

  I nodded.

  “Monday then. I look forward to a full report when you’re done.” He stood, signaling the end of our introduction. “Commander Knight,” he said, nodding at him.

  We shook hands once more, and the commander led me through the building to my new cubicle. Everything was new but felt oddly familiar. Even the massive room filled with bustling bodies and ringing phones felt like home. Only one thing was missing, but I knew it couldn’t be filled. The job description might be the same, but I knew the days ahead wouldn’t be without Trevor by my side. Since it was no one’s fault but my own, I told myself I shouldn’t compare the man leaning against my new desk even after he introduced himself as my new partner.

  Edmund Peters was a tall and lanky man with a shrewd smile and hawk-eyed stare that I wanted on my side. Instantly, I knew we’d get along as long as I always agreed with him, making him a little like Trevor. Considering how things had ended between Trevor and me, I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  While they awkwardly watched, I checked out my new desk. I didn’t miss the smile that passed between them, but it didn’t ruffle my feathers. As the new guy, I expected to draw the short straw. I wasn't surprised when the top drawer didn't pull out, and the chair wasn't exactly level. I didn't care that others had raided my new office, and I'd been left with everyone else's castoffs. Nothing could spoil my good mood.

  Or so I thought.

  The case file the chief had mentioned sat in the middle of my desk. When Knight tried to lift the lid, a manila envelope sitting on top slid off and landed on my desk with a soft thump.

  "It's just a formality really,” Knight said, nodding to the man beside him. “Peters and his previous partner worked this case for months. Like the chief said, we've already closed it. Yes, some new evidence came in this week, but I don't think it changes anything."

  I thought about the time but resisted the urge to check my watch again. "What’s the quick and dirty?"

  Commander Knight pulled a file from the box that was at least three inches thick. "The name of the victim, if he was one, was Forrester Joseph Tollson. Or just ‘Joe’ by those who liked him.” He paused for dramatic effect.

  “Related to the chief?” I asked.

  “They were cousins.” He shuffled through papers.

  I nodded, now understanding the chief’s reluctance to let the case go.

  He tossed a picture on the desk, and I took stock of Joe Tollson. I didn't need a biography to figure out he'd lived a large life. He was nearly as wide as he was tall. Dressed in a suit and wearing an equally smarmy smile. His hands were on his lapels like he was a damn politician from the eighteen hundreds. I had an instant dislike for the poor dead bastard.

  Commander Knight continued. “He was fifty-six and had a severe peanut allergy. The wife left takeout in the refrigerator, and he confused her dinner with his. She found him floating face down in the pool about an hour later. There was no evidence of any foul play."

  "Seems pretty straightforward,” I agreed.

  "Yes, but you can understand the chief’s interest, being his cousin and all. He was a highly regarded attorney in town, though, there were rumors he had all of the judges in his pocket. Just don't say that around the chief.”

  I couldn’t hate the man for that alone. After all, my purchase of Trevor’s silence had brought me to Highland Park.

  "And the wife?" I asked.

  The flick of Knight’s wrist and the way the photo fluttered to the desk was so casual
and ordinary the reality of the situation hit me slowly.

  As if they’d just taken turns punching me in the stomach, all of the air left my body on a single exhale. I laid my palms flat on the desk so they couldn’t see them shake, never taking my eyes off the woman with shiny dark hair and a full pouty mouth. I didn't need a bio on her. I knew her name, her dress size, and what those lips felt like against mine.

  Knight gave me one anyway.

  "Well, that’s the thing. His wife was Celeste Smythe, heiress of Smythe Luxury Hotels and Resorts. Her daddy is the company president, and they've lived here in Highland Park her entire life. They're an upstanding family, with their hands in all kinds of charities. But Tollson was her second husband to die from an allergic reaction, though the first one was clearly an accident too. It’s all in here," he said, gesturing to the box.

  I nodded because it was all I could do. My mind was reeling. The only questions I could think to form were ones I wanted to hurl at Celeste. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the picture. I couldn’t ignore the way Tollson’s arm wrapped around her, his grip on her so tight her dress wrinkled at the waist. If it were Chase in the picture, maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised. But this wasn’t Chase. It was another one. One she hadn’t told me about.

  Knight put the lid back on the box and handed me the envelope that had slipped off. “This came in this week. Anonymously, of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Like the chief said, just look it over next week and let’s put this to rest once and for all."

  Knight clapped me on the shoulder like we were old friends, and I tore my eyes away from the picture long enough to mutter a goodbye and watch him walk away. Peters followed like an obedient dog.

  The right thing to do would be to chase after them and tell them everything I knew about her. But what did I know? And why did it matter when they obviously knew more about her than I did?

  As I sat there, some of Celeste’s deformed puzzle pieces morphed into something that fit and the roar in my head became an inferno I needed to escape. I felt betrayed, though I knew I shouldn’t. We’d never agreed to tell each other everything. I certainly hadn’t. I stormed through the rows of cubicles, past the front desk, and out through the front door, only vaguely aware that someone had wished me a good weekend on my way out.