“Good,” she said and turned away from him.
* * * *
Charlotte lay in bed that night, unable to sleep as Jonas’s words played over in her mind. She knew he was right, on a fundamental detective level, but she couldn’t get past the image of Tucker that night. He’d stared at her with such concern, so tenderly, that it was difficult to picture him as a killer.
She wished she could detach herself from the case, look at things with an objective eye. She’d been able to see Zach’s killer so clearly, so why couldn’t she do the same for Brandy…for herself? Emotions really complicated matters.
A soft knock sounded on her door. She sat up and turned on the light.
“Come in,” she said.
The door opened and Nash came into the room, a folder in his right hand. She watched as he came toward her and sat on the edge of her bed. He wore a white shirt with the first two buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“Hey,” he greeted. “You okay?”
She nodded. “I fought with Jonas.”
“So I heard. Should’ve punched him.”
She gave a reproving look, but, like usual, he ignored her.
Nash held up the folder. “You’re not going to like what’s in here.”
“Why?”
“It’s intel we gathered on Tucker Martell.”
“Why does everyone want to pin this on him?” she frustratingly asked.
“Why are you dismissing him?”
“Because he saved me.”
“He didn’t save Peggy Mead.”
“Who?”
Nash handed her the folder and then opened it up to the first page. “I did some checking and Tucker’s name popped up on a police report. Peggy Mead was a woman who had been hit by a bus. Passerby’s reported that Tucker Martell watched it happen, that he made no move to stop the older woman, who was deaf, from walking in front of the bus.”
Charlotte stared down at the black-and-white picture of a body draped under a white sheet. Dark stains engulfed the body and she knew that it had to be blood. But what really captured her attention was the person who stood staring down at the dead body. Something akin to rapture glowed upon Tucker’s face.
“He looks really young,” she observed.
“He’s seventeen in that picture. A year before your incident.”
Charlotte closed the folder and handed it back to him. “Thanks for not calling it an accident. But if it was him, then why bring me back?”
Nash shrugged. He laid the file on the dresser.
“I don’t want to think about him anymore,” she said. “At least right now.”
Nash stared at her, his blue eyes unyielding in their intensity. “What do you want right now, Charlotte?”
It was a loaded question. She wanted to forget. She wanted to remember. She wanted to find out the killer. She wanted to not discover it was Tucker. But right then, in that moment, she wanted to remember what it was like to be a flame in Nash’s arms.
“You,” she whispered.
She no sooner took a breath when he was pressing against her, sweeping the cover aside as his lips found hers and his tongue thrust deep in a delicious rhythm. Her sensitive nipples rasped against her nightshirt, bringing them achingly alive while only a thin barrier of material separated his hard cock from plunging deep, his hips mimicking the action with his tongue. His big body pushed her into the bed but his hand managed to find room to run down her back, over her ass, and down her legs until he found the elastic on her panties.
He broke the kiss and sat up, pulling her with him and turning until she sat astride his hips and her nightgown bunched over her thighs. They stared into one another’s eyes and she unbuttoned his shirt, one eyehole at a time until the material parted, revealing rock-hard muscles. A very light pattern of hair covered his chest, so blond she almost couldn’t see it. But she could feel it and she buried her fingers in the softness.
Deliberately, his finger ran along the edge of her lace panties, dipping under the seam as her eyes flared in excitement. His fingertips brushed over her clit, lightly caressing the nerve cluster until she stared undulating her hips in a silent beg for more. The pressure of his hard cock plus the softness of his fingers soon drove her out of her mind. She leaned over and bit the fleshy part of his ear, not enough to cause damage but enough to grab his attention.
Nash moaned, his cock banging forcefully against the material of her panties as he jerked to the pain. His eyes flared with excitement and tugged her nightgown over head before flipping her onto her back and yanking the panties down her legs.
“So you like a little pain, Ms. Perth?” he asked softly. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a very naughty girl?”
She wiggled her hips, as if daring to try anything. With a wicked grin, he flipped her body over. She yelped as she found herself face down upon his knee, her ass stuck high in the air.
“Love bites turn me on,” he told her. “I’m sure you can feel how hard I am for you and I plan on fucking you real hard, Charlotte.”
His words enflamed her and she wiggled a little more. Not because she wanted to escape but because his words enflamed her. Every part of her body screamed to feel him plunge into her and she bit her lip to keep from begging.
Then his hand came down on her ass in a sharp crack, causing her to jump as heat ignited along her tender skin. His palm managed to spank not only her cheeks but her pussy lips. She hadn’t expected the fire that heated her backside to translate into desire but a new rush of wetness pulsed out between her labia and she half wondered if she was producing a moisture spot on his pant leg.
He spanked her again, this time with a little more force which produced a little more fire on her tender skin. She twitched and moaned, her hips flaring back into the arch of hand.
“Uh uh,” he warned. “Don’t move. Don’t push back.” Instead of another smack his fingers caressed her backside for a moment before sliding along the crack of her ass and across her clit. “Fuck, you’re wet. You like this, don’t you? What if I said I wanted to fuck your ass? Take that hole as mine? Hmm?”
His fingers slid into her and she moaned again, her hips rocking backward into the caress.
“I said don’t move,” he told her, withdrawing his fingers to deliver another hit, one even heavier than the other. She burned, oh so deliciously. And she wanted to move desperately but he spanked her one more time and by then she broke down begging.
“Please, Nash, fuck me. I need you in me.”
“Oh yes, Charlotte,” he murmured, lightly caressing her ass, trying to soothe the inflamed cheeks. Her pussy tingled from the spanking. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll remember tonight and instantly cream your panties.”
“Now Nash! Please.”
He lifted her and turned, placing her body at the edge of the bed and maneuvering her until she was on her hands and knees. She heard his zipper go down and the sound made her salivate. Then his hands spread her thighs further apart to make room for his body.
“Oh yes,” he murmured as a finger rimmed her anal rosette. “I will have this very soon.”
His hand slid up her back, pushing her head down which made her ass stick further up in the air. And then he was pressing into her, filling her, his hips jerked once and he seated himself fully into her wet pussy.
“Oh fuck!” Nash groaned. “We’ve got to be quiet. I don’t know if I can be quiet.”
She wiggled her hips in encouragement, wanting more. He complied, thrusting into her, again and again, going deeper with each penetration. Small popping sounds soon were heard as he pulled out only to pump back in, harder and faster.
“Do you know how good you feel?” he managed to ask in a strained voice. “I could fuck you all night.”
“God, yeah,” she answered. “Please!”
Sweat dripped off their bodies. He held her hips as he pounded into her. It was too much, too tight. She buried her mouth into the bed and screamed as h
er body convulsed into sheer bliss. She floated up, out of her body, and touched the stars.
He gave his own muffled shout as he reached his own peak and then he collapsed on top of her. Her strength fled and he pushed her flat onto her stomach, his breathing harsh in her ears but matching hers. She felt his lips moving back and forth over her temple and wondered how on earth he had the strength to move anything. She felt boneless. Amazingly boneless.
“That was incredible,” he murmured into her ear.
“Do you think you could move off me?” she asked softly. “You’re a mountain of muscle.”
“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” he said and shifted to flop on his side, next to her. She turned on her side so they could look each other in the eye.
A sense of déjà vu hit her as she felt liquid coat her thighs. Deciding the first time around had worked well enough, she grabbed his shirt and stuck it between her legs. He quirked an eyebrow at her questioningly.
“Trust me, you can just wash the wet spot in the bathroom.”
“Okay.”
“No argument?”
“I don’t like arguing with you. With Daire, very much, but you, no way.”
“Because I win every argument?”
“Because female brains don’t make a lick of sense.”
She punched him in his arm. “Take that back.”
“No way. You know I’m right.”
“Well, men always think with their little head.”
“That’s true. Although mine isn’t that little.”
She giggled.
“You know I’m right,” he said again and waggled his eyebrows at her. He lay down and pulled her into his arms. She once again buried her fingers in the fur on his chest. “So why did you argue with Jonas?”
“He seems to think I’m biased toward Tucker.”
“You are biased,” he said. “And I hate to tell you that he seems to be the dominating suspect.”
She sighed. “Was the Peggy Mead story true?”
“Yes.”
“I just…I would want to talk to him before I passed judgment.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Why do you defend him?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me. I may be blond but I can usually keep up.”
“After…afterwards, when I lay in my mother’s arms near the pool, as I came to realize what had happened to me, the only person I thought I could trust was Tucker. He saved me. You don’t save someone you want to hurt. Right?”
“It’s common to transfer emotions onto someone who’s rescued you, mistaking gratitude for love. He could have done it simply to have that connection to you.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it? What’re you afraid of?”
“You know.”
“No. I don’t.”
“I’m terrified I’m going to end up back in the water,” she said, chest heaving a little as if she’d just taken a run. “Having it close over my head, suffocating me. Being breathless. I don’t want to face that angel again. I’m afraid that if I do, it’ll summon me back and this time I won’t be returning. Tucker didn’t steal my life, Nash. He gave it back to me.”
He sighed. “I just want you to look at the evidence discriminatingly. Look with your eyes, not your heart.”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “Very poetic.”
“Thanks,” he said with a grin. “I Googled that earlier.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Charlotte snuck out of the house, knowing that she was going to catch hell for it, but she had to take this step. She had texted Tucker and invited him to breakfast at one of Santa Monica’s oldest diners, named Donna’s. The eatery had been around since time began and she had fond memories of eating there with her parents after church on Sunday. They had the greasiest bacon, but the best pancakes in the world.
Remembering her reason for asking Tucker to join her there put a sober spin on her memories. She and Tucker had graduated together but through their entire school career together they’d never been exactly close. He hadn’t been that popular in school, despite his father owning the swim club, and the Perth girls had been legendary, thanks in part to Holly, who managed to punch the captain of the football team the first day of her freshman year. The senior had pinched her ass, an initiation he supposedly did to all the girls he thought were pretty, so most figured she’d take that as a huge compliment. But Holly being Holly had called him a sexist pig, punched him, and then threatened him with a lawsuit.
Good or bad, the Perth girls were very well known through school and Tucker Martell had existed to them with saying hi and bye most days. Of course, that had changed the night he’d saved her life. Charlotte admitted she suffered a tad bit of hero worship and they had finished high school as boyfriend and girlfriend. She’d even given him her virginity at prom. And then he’d gone off to college and she’d moved to Santa Fe, the few months remaining in Santa Monica almost more than she could bear. She’d hidden her fear and inability to move on from her family and friends, but when graduation had come, she couldn’t wait to escape. Tucker had wanted to continue their relationship but she just couldn’t deal. By then everything had begun to slip and slide because she’d had her first vision.
So over the years Tucker had remained one of those memories that was both painful and pleasant.
When she walked into Donna’s, she immediately saw him sitting in a booth, waiting for her. He held up his hand, waving a little. In front of him rested a still-full cup of steaming black coffee. She waved back, taking a moment to remove her sweater so she could study him. Tucker had been one of those nondescript boys growing up, brown hair and brown eyes, neither athletic nor brawny, even though his father operated a swim club. He’d been more cerebral than jock, but that’d been okay with Charlotte. She looked at him and had seen her savior. But now she realized that had been a sort of opposite Florence Nightingale effect, where she’d fallen in love with her caregiver, or hero as the case may be. Now she saw him not as the knight in shining armor but as a regular man who had aged over the past twelve years.
Tucker rose as she approached and she gave him a quick hug.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” she said a bit breathlessly. She hoofed it quickly not only to make it on time but to make sure Nash didn’t show up and stop her.
“Believe it or not, I’ve not been here in twelve years,” he commented, signaling for the waitress to come back.
“I hope they still have those pancakes.”
“We do,” the waitress said with a smile.
“Great! I’ll have a stack of them with some coffee.”
The waitress finished short handing the order then looked at Tucker.
“Just the coffee,” he replied and the waitress turned and hurried away.
“You’re not hungry?” Charlotte asked.
“I’m not a breakfast person, but the coffee is amazing,” he assured.
Suddenly, Charlotte felt very awkward. “Thanks for meeting with me. Sorry it was last minute.”
He shrugged. At that moment the waitress came back with another cup of coffee and some fresh creamers. Charlotte smiled her thanks and mentally sighed. It was only Friday.
“How’s the investigation?” he asked and she almost choked on the sip she just took.
“What?”
“Brandy Hamlet.”
She relaxed. “I don’t know. That’s an ongoing, need to know basis and I’m baseless.”
He chuckled. “Cute.”
“I try.”
The waitress brought Charlotte’s food and Charlotte was a little embarrassed when her stomach rumbled.
“You know, I don’t allow myself sugar and cream in my coffee, because I tell myself it’s my way of restricting my empty caloric intake,” she mused as she slathered on the maple syrup and then cut her pancakes into bite-size pieces. “But I don’t have any qualms about diving into this syrupy mess of deliciousness.”
; She took a bite and closed her eyes as pleasure burst inside her mouth. It had been a long, long time since she last had such a great-tasting breakfast.
Tucker smiled again, his eyes fastened upon her face. It made her feel a little uncomfortable and she washed her bite down with some coffee.
“So, Tucker, are you married?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nope. You?”
“No. Never found the right one.” Until recently. The right two men, that is. She kept those thoughts to herself.
“And you’re a property assessor, is that right? You know, I Googled your name but couldn’t find a website on your company.”
“Oh, well, I find work by word of mouth.”
“I did find some obscure reference about a woman named Charlotte Perth on some psychic’s blogsite. Isn’t that funny that someone has the same name as you and claims to be physic?” he said with a laugh.
Charlotte gave him a weak grin. “Yeah. I’ve heard that before. Anyway, what have you been doing for the past decade or so?”
His eyebrows shot up. “I became a hospice nurse.”
Immediately she put down her fork that held her next bite. “Oh. That must have been incredibly sad.”
For a brief moment, his eyes flashed angrily. But in the next second the emotion disappeared, smoothed over by a gentle shake of his head that had Charlotte wondering if she had really seen it at all.
“I enjoyed my work,” he replied.
“Still. Staying with people until their last breath? Taking care of their every need? Not many people are brave enough or have the stomach to watch a person pass.”
She saluted him with her coffee mug.
“Father asked if I would take over the swim club when he retired,” Tucker said. “At first I said no but then I didn’t want him or Mom to worry. I plan on selling in another year and returning to my profession.”
“You’re not burned out on hospice care?”
He shook his head. “I understood my patients and reassured them there was a better place they were heading.”
“A place without pain?”
“More than that. A place without worry, or fear, or care,” he corrected. “A place where every petty feeling, whether it be inadequacy or jealousy or guilt, no long exists. Our burdens falling away as sins are lifted from our shoulders.”
Breathless [McKnight, Perth & Daire 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 12