by Dawn Brown
“Maybe. He’s denying anyone paid the two of them to come after me, even though I overheard them talking about it.”
Des snorted and flopped onto the sofa. “Yeah, well, he might be willing to roll on Tic, especially with the pictures to prove it, but he won’t mess with Heddi.”
Shayne sat next to him, struggling to gauge his expression. “How did it go with her?”
“As expected.” He shrugged. “I think she believed me when I told her I wanted to stick with our deal.”
His flat tone fed her growing unease. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
“She knows I care about you. When she realizes I played her, she’s going to go after you to get to me.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I hope we’re not making a mistake.”
“Me too.” But she wasn’t concerned about herself. After all, she doubted there was much Heddra Grey could do to her once she left Dark Water. Unfortunately, Des would be stuck here alone to face the woman’s wrath. But what could she do about that? Her only options were to give up the book like the woman wanted, or pay off Des’s debt, which she couldn’t afford. At least not yet.
In a few weeks, she’d have the money from her condo. Using those funds to pay off Des’s grandmother would mean having to live in her parents’ basement a while longer, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t leave Des here to face Heddra Grey alone.
Absently, she took Des’s hand in hers. He gave her fingers a squeeze and cracked an eye. “I don’t think she had anything to do with killing my mother or Christian.”
She listened as he relayed his entire conversation with his grandmother, and by the time he’d finished, she was starting to agree with him. Besides her own conclusions about Robert’s willingness to confess, if Heddi was telling the truth, she had no motive.
Shayne stood and started to pace. “That’s interesting about Cal Warren’s trying to shake your mother down for more money. That means half the crap he fed me during our interview was bullshit.”
Des snorted. “Are you surprised?”
“No, not really. You know, he might have even known about Gwen and Robert’s plans to leave. If your mother had planned to disappear, maybe she’d gone to Warren to ask him to give up his rights to the children, which he would only do for a price.” She stopped pacing. “I wonder if he ever got the money.”
“What difference does it make?”
“If Heddi had paid him, Gwen could have planned to leave with Robert, anyway. And as you said yourself, Heddi doesn’t like to be double-crossed.”
Des sighed and sat forward. “Why is it so hard for you to believe Robert killed them?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. His murder wraps everything up too neatly. I feel like there’s a piece missing here. If we find it, everything will make sense. Maybe I could convince Warren to see me again.”
“Couldn’t you just call him?”
“I could, but I need to pick up my rental car, anyway,” she told him. “Besides, I’d like to see his expression when I tell him I know he lied.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Most fathers will do anything to protect their children. This, unfortunately, was not the case for Christian and Julia Warren.”
—excerpt from Blood and Bone by Shayne Reynolds
“Ever notice how these houses all look the same? Sure they’re big, but they have zero character.”
Shayne shot Des a quick glance as they climbed Cal Warren’s front steps. An odd flutter tickled her chest. She’d thought the same thing the last time she’d been here.
“Why not have a flashing neon sign that says ‘look how much money we have’?” Des continued. “Actually, a sign might be more subtle than the house.”
She snorted. “Just a little.”
She pressed the button for the bell and waited. The sun glared down from the blue sky, but a chill wind kept the air cool. Still, a thin sheen of perspiration coated her skin, unease tightening her stomach into knots. Warren was not going to be pleased when she told him she knew he was full of crap. Nor, when he saw that she’d brought Robert Anderson’s son with her.
She hadn’t even bothered to try and convince Des not to come. Besides his refusal to leave her side until Tic was apprehended, he was as entrenched in this search for the truth as she was. More so, maybe. This was his family. His past.
The door swung inward and Warren filled the opening. Dressed in a pair of casual khaki pants and a navy golf shirt, the man still appeared stiff and austere. His bright gaze shifted from her to Des and back to her. His thick gray brows drew together, a deep line grooving the flesh between them.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice flat, a hard scowl etched in his face.
He recognized Des and he wasn’t at all happy to see him. She’d have to talk fast, or Warren wouldn’t let them past the front door. “Mr. Warren, thank you for agreeing to meet with me again. This is Des Anderson, he’s been helping me with my research. We only have a few questions to go over. May we come in?”
Warren’s grip on the edge of the door tightened as if he was about to slam it shut, his attention fixed on Des. Des merely stared back, a faint smirk twisting his mouth. Did Des know him too? Had they met before? He was Julia’s father. It stood to reason they had. But there was a vibe stretching between them, a nearly tangible animosity.
Finally, Warren tore his gaze from Des and offered her a beaming smile that didn’t come close to reaching his hard eyes.
“Of course,” he said. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
Des snorted beside her, but didn’t say anything else. When she glanced his way, he rolled his eyes.
They followed Warren to his study off the foyer. He sat behind his desk and she and Des settled into the chairs opposite him.
“I hope you don’t mind if I record our conversation?” Shayne asked, pulling her tape player and notepad from her bag.
“You remember me,” Warren said.
Shayne frowned and looked up, but Warren’s attention was fixed on Des.
“Yeah, I remember you.” Des’s voice sounded strained despite his unreadable expression. His fingers curled tightly around the arms of the chair. His knuckles whitened. He was pissed, and fighting a losing battle for control.
“She’s my daughter and I had every right to see her,” Warren snapped, more than a little defensive.
Des shrugged. “It’s odd you never visited Julia any of the other times she was in the hospital, and that you used my uncle’s name to do it.”
“I had visited her before, as a matter of fact. That was the first time you saw me. I may not be winning any father-of-the-year awards, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t worry about her and the things she did to herself.” Warren jabbed a finger at him, punctuating his point.
“Why not give your real name? Why take off when I tried to talk to you if you’re such a devoted fucking father?” Des sneered, any attempt at civility vanishing.
“You’re Anderson’s boy? You of all people should know what your grandmother is like. I didn’t want Heddi to know I’d seen Julia. It was better for Julia that way.”
Des stood and slapped his palms against Warren’s desktop. “Don’t give me some bullshit excuse like you cared for her. She was worse after she saw you. What did you say to her?”
Warren stood and glared back. “You do know why she tried to kill herself, don’t you? Because she’d learned your father was getting out, and she was terrified of what he might do to her. She believed she was only safe as long as he was in prison.”
The situation was spinning out of control fast, but Shayne didn’t have a clue how to stop it. She stood and pressed her hand against Des’s back. The warmth from his skin seeped through the thin T-shirt. He straightened and reached for her hand, his fingers tangling with hers. A sliver of relief moved through her, loosening the knots in her stomach. At least, he remembered she was there.
“What did you say to her?” Des’s eyes shone like mercury, the
fury in his voice laced with pain.
“You look like him, you know? Especially now, when you’re angry and about ready to lose it. I could never understand how Julia could stand the sight of you.”
Des’s jaw knotted. “What. Did. You. Say. To. Her?”
“I begged her to stop hurting herself, told her Anderson wasn’t worth it. I promised her the man wouldn’t hurt her and she needn’t be afraid.” Warren slumped back in his chair, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’d like you both to leave now.”
Damn it, they hadn’t asked him about the money yet, and after this he likely wouldn’t agree to see them again. “I know you weren’t honest with me when I saw you last. Heddra Grey told Des you were extorting money from Gwen in order for her to gain custody of your children. Did you know she and Robert had planned to leave Dark Water?”
Warren stood, that hard polished veneer back in place. “I have nothing else to say to you. Get out or I’ll call the police.”
“Tell me,” Des ground out. “You care about your daughter so much? Give us both the truth.”
Warren stared stonily at Des, his stiff expression impossible to read. Shayne held her breath, waiting for Warren to grab the phone from his desk and make good on his threat.
“Heddi’s telling the truth. I wanted Gwen to give me more money. I threatened to go back to court to seek full custody. With all the trouble Heddi was causing for Gwen and Anderson, I might have even stood a chance.”
“Did she tell you she and Robert were leaving Dark Water?” Shayne asked again.
Warren barely spared her a glance before returning his attention to Des. “Yes, I knew about their plan. What better time to hit her up for more money.”
“Did you get paid?” Des asked, standing rigidly, the tension humming through his body almost palpable.
“I did, and I relinquished my rights. Once Gwen was dead, I had no legal recourse with which to take Julia. I suppose I could have tried to go back to court, but I wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on. I know you don’t think I care about Julia—”
“You’re right I don’t think you give a rat’s ass about her. You traded access to your children for cash, but I guess it wasn’t that big a deal since you didn’t have much to do with them anyway.” Derision dripped from Des’s every word. He turned to Shayne. “Let’s get out of here.”
Shayne woke slowly, wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets. Even with the windows closed the hiss of the wind rushing through the trees outside reached her ears in the quiet surroundings. She stretched and opened her eyes, her gaze landing on Des, wearing only a towel, his attention fixed on something on his desk.
A rush of wet heat shot to her core. God, he looked good, his hair messy and damp. The towel slung low on his hips, leaving his sculpted chest and stomach for her to admire. Or gawk at, as the case may be. She frowned. What exactly was he looking at so intently?
Her notes.
Her stomach clenched. Was he reading them so he could hurry and contact his grandmother before she awoke? She let out a slow breath. She either trusted him, or she didn’t. And if she planned to go with the former, she couldn’t jump to conclusions every time he went anywhere near her work.
“Hey,” she said softly.
He lifted his gaze to hers, and winced a little. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, not at all.” She sat up on the bed. “What are you looking at?”
“I guess I should have waited for you to wake up and asked if it was okay, but I was thinking about what Warren said, and I wondered if I did look like him? Anderson, I mean.” Des flipped the photograph in his hand, showing Shayne. The image of Robert, Gwen and all three children smiled at her, a Christmas tree glowing in the background.
Nice. There she’d been mentally accusing the poor guy, and he was only trying to pick through the mess of his family. A mess she’d helped stir up. “You’ve never seen his picture?”
He set the photo down, jerked a shoulder and started toward her. “A few black-and-white newspaper photos. Heddi wasn’t exactly going to hang his likeness around the house.”
“No, I guess not.” She had to make a conscious effort to keep her gaze on his face, and not let her eyes travel down his body to where the towel dipped teasingly below his belly button. “I don’t have many pictures of him, I’m afraid. That one came from Robert’s Aunt Jean. Whatever family photos your parents had are gone.”
Des sat on the edge of the bed, and Shayne scooted over to make room for him. The clean, fresh scent, with a hint of spice, from his soap and shampoo teased her nose. He smelled good.
“Do you think I look like him?” Des asked. The low tenor of his voice shivered over her skin.
She had to clear her throat before she spoke, her mouth suddenly inexplicably dry. “Parts of you.”
He held her gaze, his eyes dark as pewter. “Which parts?”
“You’re fairer than he was. His skin was more olive, his hair was darker brown and curly.” Absently, she reached out to touch Des’s hair, running her fingers through the damp strands, then she traced the ridge of cheekbone beneath his eye. “You have his eyes, though. Same shape, same color. Your mother’s nose.” She trailed her fingertip down the straight narrow bridge, before moving to the cheek. “The dimples are his.” Des shot her a wry smile and the groove appeared beneath her finger like magic. “And his mouth.” She followed the outline of his lips, the thinner line of the upper, the slight pout of the lower.
He caught her hand, his gaze locked on hers. Her breath stilled. Anticipation tingled over her skin. Without looking away he brought her finger to his mouth, pressing his lips to her flesh. Wet heat rushed between her legs, need leaving her achy.
Her skin turned hot and itchy beneath her clothes, and she wanted to peel them off. To shove his towel away and feel his smooth flesh moving against hers. To feel his familiar weight settle between her legs.
He released her hand, and she let her fingers explore the hard contours of his chest, then lower over the solid ridges of his belly. With a low growl, Des bent his head, capturing her lips with his. She opened for him, his tongue sweeping her mouth in hungry exploration. He tasted sweet and familiar, faintly of mint. Without thinking or breaking the kiss, Shayne shifted, straddling his lap. She rubbed the dull ache at her core against the bulge of his erection straining against the towel.
He groaned and tilted his head back, his hips pushing up in time with the rhythm she set. His hands moved quickly, tugging her T-shirt over her head, then cupping each bared breast. He pinched her sensitive nipples. She gasped and jolted beneath his touch, the pleasure-pain shooting directly to the hot throb between her legs.
The thin layers of fabric between them filled her with frustration. She wanted to lose her pants and open his towel, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from the kiss or Des’s clever fingers.
His arms wrapped around her, crushing her tightly to his chest as he fell back against the mattress. His lips still hungrily fed from her while his hands frantically pulled at her pants.
“Too many clothes,” he murmured between kisses. She wriggled and shimmied in an effort to help, but even together they couldn’t be rid of the aggravating fabric. Finally, Shayne tore her mouth away from his. Des’s groan, low in the back of his throat, lit her every nerve ending.
“I’ll do it,” she told him, getting to her feet and sliding the thin cotton down her legs until she was completely naked. Des pushed himself up a little on his elbows, his silvery stare moving over her body from head to foot and back up again. The naked hunger in his expression sent waves of heat rolling into her limbs.
She reached down, pulled open the towel. His erection stood proud and thick from the tuft of brown hair. The throbbing at her core beat in time to the pounding of her heart. She let her hands move over his lean body. God, she’d never get enough of touching him. Her fingertips glided over his smooth, hot flesh, grazing his small, tight nipples. He let out a short hiss.
Her
hands drifted downward, over the hardened ridges of his stomach muscles. He sucked in a breath, his belly pulling back from her touch. Her breath turned ragged as she continued her explorations over his narrow hips, the side of her thumb grazing the tip of his penis.
He groaned and arched up. “Oh yeah, Shayne. Touch me. Please.”
Wet heat welled between her legs at the thready pleading in his voice. A sense of primal, feminine power filled her. She wrapped her hand around his girth, his flesh hard and hot in her grip. Molten silk over steel. She slid her hand from the base of his shaft to the tip in a long, slow stroke, then back down again. He quivered beneath her touch.
She continued on, slowly increasing the pace. His hips jutted back and forth to the rhythm she set, his fingers curling into the bedspread and disappearing into the wrinkled folds. He closed his eyes, the lines of his face taut as if he struggled for control.
She’d brought him here to the edge. Made him tremble with need. Hunger gnawed at her insides. She dipped her head, dragged the length of his penis with the tip of her tongue.
“Shit,” Des hissed.
She lifted her gaze, met his steely eyes and shot him a grin, then traced the ridge of his head with her tongue. He sucked in a quick breath, but she barely heard him. The spicy scent of the soap from his shower, the salty flavor of his skin teased her senses. She opened her mouth and took him inside.
Des groaned, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as the wet heat of Shayne’s mouth wrapped around his dick. The elbows lifting him slightly gave out and he collapsed back onto the mattress. But Shayne didn’t lose pace. She kept working him with her mouth, sucking, her tongue massaging the underside of his cock, driving him half out of his mind.
He grabbed both sides of her head, fingers tangling in her soft hair. His hips undulated beneath her, moving in time to the pace she set. Her own hand, still fisted around him, slid up and down, trailing the wet path left by her mouth. He grunted and started to move faster, pushing deeper, his control slipping away. His balls began to tighten, his whole body trembled. Christ, he was ready to explode.