“I should have trusted you enough to tell you about Katie Ann a long time ago. You aren’t the only coward sitting in this truck. Maybe we both deserve another chance.”
“It’s a good thing we’re home,” he said gruffly, but he never got a chance to finish his statement because his phone rang just as they were parking.
He flipped it open and grimaced before he uttered a brusque, “Sutton.” His mood didn’t seem to improve with whatever he heard—if anything it got grimmer when he handed her the phone. “It’s for you.”
“Yes,” she answered and listened to Bea’s instructions. “How did you get Jack’s number?”
Now she knew why Jack looked as if he were ready to go to war. She flipped the phone shut and set it on the seat between them. “McCoy is questioning Bea at the station. Did you know that?”
“She just told me.”
“Did she just tell you that Evie Masterson is coming in but only if you bring her? Did you know, for this to work, she has to resist arrest?”
“Yes,” he answered, then didn’t say anything else, just listened intently to her instructions and watched the rearview mirror. She wouldn’t put it past McCoy to have them tailed. Apparently, neither did Jack.
* * * * *
Evie Masterson resembled a terrified elfin Goth princess with a bad dye job and bruised knuckles. Dull black hair curled around her ears and her pale skin would have looked much better against hair the color of its honey-blonde roots. Of course, she’d gone paler at the sight of her husband, who was arguing with Archer McCoy.
She was nearly vibrating in place and looked as if she would bolt until Jack put a hand in the middle of her back to steady her.
Dr. Elliot Masterson, middle-aged and soft around the edges, would have gone unnoticed in a crowd except for the fact that he was ruthlessly groomed from his styled, wispy blond hair to his expensive shoes. He turned around when Archer McCoy’s gaze zeroed in on Evie. She didn’t look at McCoy though. Her attention was focused on the very angry man stalking out of McCoy’s office.
“Take those off her,” Masterson sputtered, pointing to the restraints circling Evie’s thin wrists. “I’m dropping the charges.”
Just as Evie had told them he would.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Masterson,” Jack said. “Mrs. Masterson resisted arrest and is being charged.” He hadn’t pointed to the blooming bruise on his cheek that was beginning to match the one on Evie’s knuckles but the insinuation was clear. “It’s a very serious charge.”
Masterson glared and his eyes resembled dark marbles in his pasty face. “She needs professional help, not incarceration. She has a problem,” he sputtered but Jack didn’t remove the restraints. McCoy’s rigid expression seemed to infuriate the good doctor even more.
“I’m calling my attorney,” Masterson sputtered and stalked away but not without a backward perusal of his wife. Jack watched the glare transform the doctor’s bland features into a half-second sneer. Apparently, so had McCoy because he whisked Evie into his office and shut the door.
Jack had only seen McCoy’s poker face twice and in both instances the man had walked away from the table with the pot. Masterson was going to need his attorney because tonight he was going to be questioned and his storage facility was going to be searched. The warrant had been in the works since he’d listened to Evie Masterson’s account of the night she’d run for her life, beaten and bloody.
* * * * *
Dr. Elliott Masterson was a collector and even to the untrained eye the glass-fronted curio cabinet in his storage vault in the U Store It facility held items that were not as curious as they would be to someone who hadn’t been forewarned.
The ceramic mother and child figure that had belonged to Evie’s mother had been tightly arranged in pieces as if they’d just been swept off a shelf. The same could be said of the jagged shards of her grandmother’s white crockery with its cheerful red bands. Had he honestly smiled and said “whoops” when he’d dropped it? How brave did you have to be to destroy someone bit by bit and smile about it?
A further search revealed what he’d come after. Evie had told them that her husband never disposed of anything he’d broken so that he could show it to her whenever she disrespected him. There was a folded shower curtain at the bottom of the cabinet. The cheap plastic was stained and if he wasn’t mistaken the results would match the blood on Elliot Masterson’s shirt from the night of the 9-1-1 call. The blood he had explained away with the fairy tale about his assault at the hands of a dangerous, drug-addicted wife. A sample of which still existed from the evidence gathered that night.
Masterson’s lawyer could probably make a case for the fact that after a month any drugs she may have been addicted to could be out of her system. And it would probably be better if they were if Jack was right about the dangerous combination of antidepressant drugs they’d found in the Masterson residence.
Jack was betting that singularly or combined, the pills could be capable of producing anything from extreme anxiety and erratic behavior to suicidal thoughts. It was very possible that the doctor was Evie’s only drug dealer.
He made the phone call that he knew McCoy had been waiting for and advised him that he might have been mistaken about Evie Masterson getting the drop on him. He’d accidentally pinched her wrist while putting on the restraints and she’d instinctively jerked. Her fist had connected with his cheek. End of story.
McCoy informed him that he hadn’t been contacted by anyone requesting special treatment for Dr. Masterson and it was beginning to look as if he might have fabricated his connections to keep his terrified wife cowed.
Chapter Seven
Jack’s apartment was on the third floor of a Tudor-style apartment building that had been tucked into a wooded alcove before it had been deemed some sort of nature habitat in the middle of the city.
The small one-bedroom apartment was decorated in comfortable male thrift-store abandon. A brown tweed couch that actually looked pretty sturdy took up one wall—the one that faced the scarred, round coffee table and wall-mounted flat-screen television. His faded green overstuffed recliner and a little round table sat tucked into the corner beside the French doors. A tall floor lamp sat behind the chair and she could almost see him reading the sports page or one of his dog-eared classic detective novels.
Valentine gripped the half-full Styrofoam cup of coffee that she’d gotten to go when they’d stopped for breakfast at the City Diner and tried to imagine the woods in the spring with the trees all leafed out and the little red fox that he’d told her visited every year with her kits.
The man had been pulling out all the stops after he’d realized that she’d meant what she’d said. If they were going to go forward they couldn’t be keeping tabs on who won or lost an argument or a difference of ideological opinions.
“You have quite a view here, Sutton,” she said, still gazing out the French doors while she pretended not to notice that he was straightening the bedroom. “I’d be tempted to marry you just so I could have my coffee here every morning.”
She didn’t so much hear him as feel him move down the short hallway and slide up behind her. When she leaned over to place her cup on the small table beside the recliner, he flowed into the same motion behind her.
“I was hoping to tempt you with something else but if that’s what it takes, I can live with it,” he said over her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her middle.
“So you didn’t bring me here to seduce me with your view?” she asked, straightening into his embrace.
“I brought you here because I thought we could use some privacy. I’m pretty sure we don’t have to draw the drapes if we want to have sex on the living room floor with the sun pouring in over our naked bodies,” he whispered while he slid his hands up over her ribs to cup her breasts. “The only ones tweeting are the birds and I don’t really care if they alert the neighborhood that we’re back together.”
She leaned back and slid her fingertips
behind her and over his denim-covered hips. Pulled him closer.
“I haven’t given you a complete tour yet,” he said, nibbling her earlobe and inching her backward. “You haven’t seen the kitchen.”
“We’ve had breakfast,” she said and smiled when he slipped his hands under her sweater and smoothed over the cool satin cups that restrained her breasts, dipped inside and pushed the fabric away.
“But I’m still hungry and there are so many amazing surfaces—solid oak table and chairs or I could set you on the tile counter and slide between your legs,” he whispered suggestively as he alternately tugged and flicked her nipples.
She shuddered, imagining herself spread wide to accept him, still clothed because they were in too much of a hurry. Arching, she pushed her breasts into his cupped palms and ground her ass into his groin, reveling in his groan.
“Before you spread me naked on cold tile, I think I’d like to try out your shower. See if there’s enough hot water to warm up.”
“Cold?” he asked, as one hand drifted down, flicked open the button of her jeans and pushed the zipper down slowly. He tunneled under thin silky panties and covered her pussy with his warm palm, settled one long finger along her slit and separated her.
“Mmmm…not right this minute,” she said and then he began to play, circling and strumming against her already damp flesh. She writhed and ground her pussy against his hand and he quickened his stroke, concentrating on her clit, working it between his finger and thumb until she came, shuddering.
He didn’t give her time to catch her breath before he scooped her up into his arms and turned them around. She smiled when he kissed her and the slide of his lips distracted her from their short journey down the hall and into the green-and-white bathroom with its glass-enclosed shower big enough for two.
She reached for the bottom of her sweater and he playfully batted her hands away, skimming off the red wool and the lacy undershirt beneath. Her breasts were still thrust upward and spilling out of their confinement.
He grinned and dipped his head. The pull of his mouth was exquisite torture as he nipped and soothed both nipples, gently worrying the nubs with edgy tenderness. There was no need to hold him in place but she couldn’t resist running her fingers through his short dark hair as he reached around and unhooked her bra so that she could shrug it off.
He wrapped his arms around her and nibbled a path down, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. The rough glide of denim brushing over her skin was accompanied by kisses along the inside of her thighs, her knees, on each foot as she stepped out of her pants. He stripped them off quickly and was kneeling between her legs before she had time to catch her breath.
She grabbed onto his shoulders when he caressed her ass cheeks and used his grip to draw her closer. He separated her labia with the tip of his tongue before delving into the warm channel and flexing just enough to make her gasp.
“I’m so glad you don’t shave your pussy, I love the feel of your curls against my lips,” he whispered and she almost came again but she bit down on her lip and gripped his shoulders. And then he opened his mouth and kissed her, working his tongue into her slit as if it were her mouth he kissed and she came with a moan that rocked her while he held onto her ass cheeks and feasted.
“You taste like honey,” he murmured, lapping the edges of her fluttering inner lips as her tremors subsided and she began to shake. He didn’t let her go, just slid up her body and opened the door to the shower so he could adjust the controls.
“Let’s warm you up some more,” he said, leading her inside the glass enclosure.
She had just enough energy to reply, “If I was any warmer I’d collapse.”
“I’ll always be there to catch you. Cross my heart,” he whispered against her lips as he enfolded her beneath a spray of hot water and kissed her.
He wanted to go slowly but one kiss and he was as hot and eager as the first time they’d come together two years ago. Only now there was a slight trepidation in her response and for a moment he panicked until she drew slightly away and whispered back, “I know.”
It wasn’t so much a confession as an affirmation and he swallowed hard because anything he said now wouldn’t be half as effective as the words she’d just uttered. She smiled up at him and the steam rolled around and up over her shoulders like a misty halo.
“May I suggest we have a quick wash so I can get you into bed and have my wicked way with you?”
“I have a better idea. How about a leisurely wash while I finish having my way with you?” he countered and grabbed a bottle of shower gel and lathered it between his palms before he smoothed over her shoulders and down her arms, languidly stroking her breasts until the nipples peaked.
She sighed and said, “Great suggestion.”
He swept over the rest of her, paying special attention to her pussy, massaging another dollop of gel into the red-gold curls before turning her around and bending her over. She quivered at the first touch of his fingers as he smoothed over the puckered anus. This was the one place they’d never gone.
He’d never trusted himself before because he hadn’t wanted to take her in an impatient frenzy without being in some sort of control. The experience would be over before it started and they both deserved more than that.
He squeezed out more of the rain-scented gel onto his fingers and rubbed it into the tight ring of flesh in ever widening circles as she spread her legs and whimpered. When she turned her head to face him, she licked her lips and her heated gaze urged him on even before she nodded.
He gently nipped the rounded, creamy mound of one perfect ass cheek and swiveled a finger in just past the first knuckle. She instinctively clamped down on the digit and began to pant as he waited for her to relax and tried not to go insane from the sight she presented him. He blew a warm puff of air against her bottom and tickled her clit with his other hand. She opened and sank down as he added another finger, wringing a moan from so deep inside her that he could feel its escape.
He wanted her asshole sizzling hot and begging for his cock. It was the only way he could be sure the experience would be good and he didn’t want any part of her to go untouched, without a memory of how much he wanted her.
If the water had held out, he would gladly have stayed beneath the steamy spray but he knew it would be running out soon. He tugged on her clit, rolling and manipulating until she reached for him the moment her orgasm shook her.
Valentine sagged, boneless and warm into his embrace. Felt his lips against her hair. “No fair,” she gasped, barely able to speak while she leaned into him and he finished washing up.
At least that’s what it felt as if he was doing. She licked his chest where water droplets clung after he’d rinsed away the suds that covered him. The man was multi-talented. She could barely form a coherent thought until he started blotting her dry with a large fluffy white towel.
She grabbed another one from the rack behind her that was warm from the heating vent it draped over and started at the top of his head, pressing and forming the soft terrycloth into the crevices she could reach as she followed his progress down her body.
Wrapped in towels, they made their way to the small bedroom where he’d left the curtains open. Sunshine streamed into room and over the turned-down bed with its gleaming white sheets. That was Jack, classic to the core.
“Your turn,” she whispered when he unwound her from her towel and dropped his own. His gleaming erection made her mouth water and her fingers itch. She wanted a taste and to feel his hard shaft quivering under her hand.
He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his cock against her belly where it pulsed and her pussy clenched with an answering tremor. “We’re not keeping score on anything—remember?” he said, right before he tumbled her onto the soft mattress.
She stretched out on the sheets, cool against her warm flesh, and raised her arms in invitation. He issued an invitation of his own when he lay on his side with his co
ck mere inches from her mouth and the tip of his tongue poised over her pussy.
Rising up on her elbow, she turned slightly and canted her hips toward his mouth before kissing the tip of his cock head and lapping at the little slit where a pearly drop of pre-cum enticed her.
He hissed but the first swipe of his tongue separated her labia and was a lazy dare that challenged her to draw out his pleasure. She loved a challenge but not half as much as she loved him. She closed her lips over his glans and circled the spongy tip, swiveling it in and out of her mouth and smiling when he gasped against her pussy.
And then it was all she could do to concentrate as he closed his mouth over her clit and pumped it slowly. Her hips began to move to the rhythm and she opened her mouth to allow some of the slickness that escaped his little slit and her own saliva to help with the glide of her hand as she pumped his shaft, swiveling her fingers up and down while she willed him to come.
And jumped when he slid his thumb under the pad of flesh he worked so furiously with his mouth and matched the motion, stroke for stroke until she broke, wailing and falling into her orgasm, laughing even as she accused him of cheating.
He swatted her bottom. “Stop keeping score,” he said but he was chuckling when he said it so she just kept laughing and tried to turn over so she could recover enough to get back at him. She was going to make him howl before the day was over.
And then she caught a glimpse, a flicker of something that shadowed the lightheartedness of the moment. He is worried I’m keeping score. In that moment she became aware that maybe Jack had always been worried that she wouldn’t accept whatever he willingly gave.
Some of it hadn’t been macho posturing at all.
So many things fell into place that she almost heard the perceptible clicks. She smiled. “No more keeping score. Cross my heart,” she said before she tried to finish turning over because she didn’t want him to see her getting teary eyed and spoil the moment.
He placed a hand under her stomach and lifted and she rolled over onto her back and swallowed hard. His smile was tender and open and something inside her felt as though it was breaking apart and coming back together all at the same time. She held out her arms and he sank down, resting his chest lightly against her breast and holding himself up on his elbows.
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