Homecoming

by Lacey Baker

  “Thanks, Mom, you make me sound like the innocent idiot that fell into his trap,” Nikki scoffed.

  Odell shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. He was a smooth one,” she continued. “With his fancy clothes and fancy car. He was always throwing money around like he had it to spare. A real pro, like he was used to doing this same thing to women all the time.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Nikki said, raising her voice a notch. “It doesn’t matter what kind of man he was or what lies he told me, the thought of killing him never crossed my mind. He wasn’t even worth my thoughts after I found out the truth about him. So that’s that.” She took a deep breath, blowing it out again as if she’d held it for ages.

  “Thanks, Preston, for coming. You can let me know what your fee is and I’ll gladly pay it,” she said.

  Preston was already shaking his head before she could finish her sentence. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know if they have any more questions. You don’t have to talk to the Easton police or the locals about this. They should all contact me.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m going to make a few calls, have this guy’s name run to see what I can come up with. Was he from Easton?” Parker asked.

  Nikki shook her head. “No. Well, he told me he was from New York and that’s where I went to see him. He had an apartment there but I don’t remember the address. I have the name of the guy he was working for on a card somewhere. He gave it to me when I was in New York and I kept it because he was in advertising and I figured I might be able to use his company someday for help with the B and B.”

  “Okay, why don’t you bring that card to work with you in the morning and I’ll see what I can find out. Jonah said he was shot at point-blank range three times to the back of his head.”

  “Execution-style,” Preston said.

  “What are you boys thinking?” Ralph asked.

  “They’re thinking that a con artist getting killed hundreds of miles away from his home execution-style isn’t the kind of murder an ex-girlfriend would commit,” Quinn said.

  He wasn’t a cop or a criminal lawyer, but he wasn’t totally out of the loop, either. In the snatches of spare time he had, when the medical world became too much for him to dedicate another moment to—which had become more and more of an issue lately—he liked to watch some of the crime drama television shows. Of course, he had the ones he liked on DVD, because catching them at their scheduled time was not an option. Listening to what Nikki said about their relationship—which was slight—combining that with Odell and Michelle’s rendition of what happened had Quinn following what he thought was the same thought process his brothers were.

  “The question is—what was he doing in Easton?” Preston asked. “Did he say anything about coming to see you?”

  “No. Nothing. I didn’t really give him a chance,” Nikki answered.

  “When was the last time you heard from him before this morning?” Quinn asked even though she’d already been over how long he’d been calling her.

  Her head shot up, her gaze turning in his direction. She didn’t look like she wanted to talk about this anymore, especially not to him. He got the distinct impression that he was making her nervous—not so much because of the current situation, but more about the kiss they’d shared last night.

  “Like I said, he’s been calling me every day since last week. Today was the first time I answered because I was tired of all the calls. Now, if this is over for the night, Parker, I’ll bring you the card tomorrow. Preston, thanks again. Mom and Dad, good night.”

  She’d already headed to the door when Odell made a move like she was going to follow her.

  “I’ll go,” Quinn said placing a hand on Odell’s shoulder. “I’ll walk her around to her apartment, make sure she gets inside safely.”

  Ralph gave him a questioning look, but Odell smiled knowingly. “Thank you, Quinn.”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to assume what Odell thought she knew but he wasn’t about to let Nikki be alone for another second, so he simply nodded and headed toward the door. “You go on back to the house, I’ll walk over later,” he said to Preston and Parker, who nodded even though they weren’t entirely sure what he was up to.

  For that matter, Quinn wasn’t entirely sure. All he knew as he walked out the door was that he wanted—no, he needed—to talk to Nikki alone, to maybe hold her. As much as she gave the appearance that she was in control, Quinn didn’t believe her. It was in her eyes, in the slight slump of her shoulders, the way her fingers shook as she talked. And try as he might, he couldn’t let her go through this alone. He wouldn’t let her go through this alone.

  Chapter 13

  Nikki had just stepped onto the first step that would carry her safely to her apartment when she felt a hand to the small of her back. She knew it was Quinn even without turning around. And she knew she couldn’t turn around because if she did the tears filling her eyes might fall.

  Instead she just walked up the steps. Quinn wouldn’t leave even if she told him to. Stubbornness was a trait all the Cantrells had. It was most likely the largest and most dominant string in their DNA, she thought and almost laughed, except she felt like her world was just beginning to collapse around her. When she got to the door she slipped her hand into the bag she always carried and pulled out her key.

  “Dammit!” she cursed when the key slipped right through her fingers to the wooden plank of the top step.

  “I got it,” Quinn said, stooping.

  She held out her hand but he pushed it aside, moving her out of the way so he could slip the key into the lock and push the door open. When he stepped aside, she walked past him and hit the switch to her right to turn on the lights. Behind her she heard the door close, but still Nikki refused to turn around. Instead she went straight to the small kitchenette that was to the right of what she used as the living room.

  Her place was small but then she was only one person so it suited her needs. To the left was a sofa bed she’d bought from Mike and Liza Fitzgerald when they’d had that huge yard sale because Mike’s aunt Bethany had passed away and they were moving into her wing of the Fitzgerald estate. Now that Liza was the mayor Nikki liked to amuse herself by saying she had the furniture of royalty—at least Sweetland royalty anyway. There was a small desk pushed up against the wall right beneath the only window in this part of the apartment. When she sat down to write—which she did often, as she liked to practice her verbiage for the B&B a lot—she enjoyed looking outside, to the streets of the town she knew so well. She also kept a journal, had since she was thirteen years old, but that was nobody’s business but her own.

  In the kitchenette there was a wooden table that her brother Caleb had built when he was convinced he would be a furniture maker instead of a fireman, the sides dropped down so that when it was just her she had enough space, and if she had company—which she rarely ever did—there’d be space as well. The sink had a counter beside it that was about two feet long. At the end of that short wall was a mini refrigerator with a microwave on top. She bent over and retrieved a bottled water from the refrigerator. Twisting off the top, she drank and drank until the dryness of her throat seemed to subside, the tears in her eyes temporarily held at bay.

  “You want to talk about it?” Quinn asked from behind her.

  Nikki shook her head.

  “How about I talk and you answer questions,” he suggested.

  Taking one last swallow, Nikki licked her lips before finally turning to face him. “Didn’t I just do that dance?”

  “Humor me,” he said, extending a hand to her. “Let’s sit down.”

  There was no place for her to run, if that were a thought. Her bedroom was about twenty steps away but once in there she would truly be trapped. And Quinn would follow her; her temples throbbed with another set of issues she didn’t want to deal with.

  “Fine,” she said, giving up and putting her hand once again in his, while setting the half-empty water bottle on
the counter.

  They were close on the couch, even though there was more room on both sides of them. And Quinn kept her hand in his, linking their fingers together.

  “So you met this guy, he lied to you, you dumped him, and now he’s dead.”

  Nikki nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  “And you still love him?”

  “No!” she replied immediately then clapped her lips shut. “No,” this time in a calmer tone. “I do not still love him. Actually, I doubt what I felt for him was love in the first place. All I know for sure is that I trusted him, completely. And to find out that was all a lie, that I’d fallen for every word he said, every gift he bought me, every look he’d given me, well, that was embarrassing.”

  “And painful,” he continued. He was using his other hand, those long, strong doctor’s fingers, to rub along the back of her hand. It was a soft distraction, one she barely noticed, one that sent tiny spikes of heat through her body.

  “I should have been smarter but he was worldlier. He’d performed this act before. Me, it was my first romantic episode so it took me completely by surprise.” She shrugged. “You live and you learn, I guess.”

  “You don’t have to pretend with me, Nikki. I can see that he hurt you.”

  She nodded but wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Inside her chest felt heavy, like one of those puppies might be sitting right above her rib cage, staring down into her face. He was right: It had been painful. More painful than anything she’d ever experienced. The worst part was you’d think she’d be over it by now. Still, the sting of embarrassment was swift and irritating as hell. The tears she wanted to shed were tears of agitation, of anger and disappointment, in herself.

  “He hurt me, yes,” she said and drew a deep breath. Then she did look at him because she wanted him to see that she was serious. “But he didn’t break me. I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have trusted him. But there’s a point in all mistakes, there’s a lesson to be learned. I learned it. I worked hard to achieve my goals and I kept my chin up, just like everybody told me to do. And still he came back to haunt me. That pisses me off!”

  Quinn smiled. Of all things she expected, this was not it.

  “I can see that you’re a little pissed off.”

  “More than a little,” she said, letting out a whoosh of breath. “I just … I felt so helpless when it all happened.”

  “And you hate to feel helpless,” he commented.

  Using her free hand, she ran her fingers through hair that was still straight from the salon styling but threatening to curl at any moment. Nikki wanted to tell him he was absolutely right. Instead she remained quiet, wishing this entire exchange would be over.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it,” Quinn prompted, pulling her back with him.

  He extended an arm across, let his hand drop along her shoulder, and tugged until she had no choice but to move closer. Right where he wanted her. From the moment Quinn heard about her situation he’d wanted to do this, to fold her in his arms and assure her that everything would be fine. Of course, he had no idea how that was going to happen at the time, but he wanted to offer it to her anyway. Knowing what he did now, he was positive she’d be okay—and if those cops didn’t leave her the hell alone they’d have him to deal with. Him, Preston, and Parker, he thought. His brothers were going to run with this case like Dixi had taken off with the remote control to his television just this morning. They’d probably find Randall Davis’s killer before that oaf of an officer from Easton did.

  “I’m the youngest, you know.” Nikki had begun talking.

  The soft pitch of her voice lulled about in the silence of her apartment. Quinn looked around as he listened. Her furnishings were sparse, right down to only the items she needed. She wasn’t a frivolous type, he thought.

  “My brothers were always very overprotective of Cordy because she was pretty and bubbly and all the boys wanted her. You know she had a thing with Parker for a while.”

  “I recall that,” Quinn said letting his fingers rub along her shoulder, down a little on her arm. She wore a short-sleeved shirt, so it wasn’t long before his skin was touching hers.

  There was a desk that might have been an antique except the engraved design at the helm was American and the table legs weren’t original. The wood was different, almost a perfect match in color, no doubt because the legs had been stained. Nothing in here was of any particular value except that everything in here was hers. He suspected she took great pride in that fact, and that pride alone made each piece priceless. Nikki was a woman who worked hard for what she wanted and cherished every one of her milestones. Quinn was impressed by that fact because even though he’d had many milestones, he couldn’t remember them all and didn’t really care to. All he could think about was getting a step farther, reaching just a little farther no matter how high he stood.

  “So they treated me like the ‘other’ sister. I mean, they loved me, no doubt, but they never had to worry about me getting mixed up with the wrong guy. Cordy gave me tons of advice, tons and tons. And when Randall first came to town she, too, was in awe. Then when he went back to New York and our relationship became mostly long distance she started to tell me I should move on, look for someone who could focus on making me happy and wasn’t so impressed by the material things. I’m not impressed by material things, you know,” she said.

  The last part had been spoken even more quietly, like she thought if she said it too loud it would be something he really didn’t want to hear.

  “That’s not a bad thing,” he replied. “You can’t take those material things with you. It’s what’s in your heart that lasts.” Even as Quinn said those words he was wondering why he hadn’t told himself that for years past.

  “I like how that sounds,” she said and actually snuggled closer to him.

  Quinn turned his head, let his chin rest on top of hers and inhaled deeply. Her hair smelled fresh with the faintest hint of citrus. That wasn’t a normal scent to be associated with a female, not what some would call a sexy scent. But men were obsessed with food scents—not that many women knew that—so instead of a heady floral fragrance, he preferred the smells that made him think more of nature, of … home.

  “I like how you sound,” he said out of nowhere. “Your voice is soft but confident. Your stature is slight but there’s a fierceness about you that rests right on your shoulders when you stand. At first glance I thought, young, fresh, don’t touch. Then there’s this other part of you, like a parallel world, a very seductive and enticing you that I’m having a really hard time resisting.”

  For a second she stiffened in his grasp, and he wondered if he’d scared her away. But no, Nicole Brockington was not a skittish female, she wasn’t one of the independent medical professionals he’d dated in Seattle, who had worked too long and too hard to let him do things like open doors for them or walk them home. They’d actually preferred to pick him up for dates, drop him off at his door, schedule their next date months in advance on the iPhones that were glued to the palms of their hands.

  “I’m trying to resist, too,” she reluctantly admitted, shifting a little so that she could now look up at him.

  “I know better. I’ve been taught better. Don’t take what’s not yours. Don’t touch what you can’t hope to hold on to,” he whispered, his head lowering even as he spoke.

  “I wished for you,” she told him. “On the evening star, I wished that you would kiss me.”

  Her lips parted slightly, her bottom lip just a pinch fuller than the top. Her eyelids lowered, like they were as heady with the intensity of this moment as he was.

  “For you, Nicole, wishes can come true,” Quinn told her, his voice a whisper just above her lips.

  Then he was lost in the sweet taste of her. It was like sinking in quicksand, he figured, if he’d ever had that experience for real. The slowest of descents, with the pulling and tugging against every part of his body as his mouth covered hers. There was no prelude t
his time; their tongues immediately collided, as if waiting for the chance at this reunion. Like a slow duel they clashed and rubbed, touched and glided along until his heartbeat slammed against his chest. He reached another arm around, pulling her so that she now straddled his lap. His hands went directly to her buttocks then, fingers grasping those enticing globes as if his very next breath depended on that touch.

  She pressed into him, arching her back only slightly, taking his bottom lip into her mouth for a long, tortuous suckle. His mind clouded, seeing only her in the distance. This pert and lively female with the great body and the small-town values that he could no longer deny he wanted.

  Her hands cupped his face as she pulled back only slightly.

  “I want you to take me to bed,” she said, pinning him with the hottest gaze he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

  If saying no had even the slightest fraction of possibility in his mind, her words sliced that thought to pieces like a master swordsman.

  He stood without a word, his teeth nibbling along the line of her jaw as he wrapped her legs around his waist and took a step toward the far end of the room he figured was her bedroom. They kissed as he walked. No, that wasn’t really the correct term: Two hungry mouths made every human attempt to devour each other. He kicked something, heard something else hit the floor.

  “Forget it,” she mumbled and pressed her breasts closer to his chest.

  “Forgotten,” he growled, his fingers grasping her buttocks then slipping farther between her legs to rub along her center. She arched at his touch, her head falling back as she moaned and his tongue traced a heated trail down the line of her neck.

  They hit her bedroom. Through his one open eye he found the full-sized bed, dropping her down without another word. In seconds he was on top of her, pulling at her pants until the snap popped. Later, much later, he might consider buying her another pair if these were destroyed by his eagerness.

  Looking down at her, legs partially spread, top pushed up so that the bottom half of her torso was bared to him right along with her panty-clad juncture, he inhaled deeply before reaching for her again. His breath came in a quick whoosh as his fingers immediately found the band of her panties, pulling them down her thighs, his fingers grazing her soft skin on the way. Need raged through him like a summer storm and Quinn thought he heard the thunder of waves crashing in his head. He grasped her thighs then, spreading them wide so he could have a better view.