by Meghan March
“How does jambalaya sound?” Magnolia calls from the kitchen with her head buried in the fridge.
“Perfect, mama.” I look at Trey. “You hungry?”
“Damn right. I’m always hungry.”
“Me too,” Jules says, chiming in. “Especially if I’m not cooking.”
Magnolia smiles from where she stands behind the island. “All right. One big ol’ batch coming up.”
By the time Magnolia has the whole house smelling amazing, Trey is in the NOPD system.
“Okay, here we go,” he says, his fingers flying.
“What do you have?” I ask, coming around the table to stand behind him.
“Damn, man. That’s some fucked-up shit,” he says under his breath.
“What?” Magnolia asks from across the room.
Trey glances over in her direction, but his fingers never stop moving. The guy can literally carry on full conversations and keep typing without ever missing a keystroke. As someone who still has to look at his fingers on occasion to remember where a few letters are, I can’t help but be amazed.
“Crime scene pictures. You don’t want to see them, mama,” I tell her, wishing I wasn’t witnessing them either.
“Take his word for it,” Trey says, shaking his head like he’s trying to get the vision of Laura Brandon out of his brain, and I don’t blame him. “You can’t un-see shit like this.”
He clicks out of the photos as fast as he clicked into them.
“Any suspects?” I ask, squatting down to read his screen.
He clicks around and shrugs. “No. Nothing so far. But they’re definitely digging. Your buddy Cavender is on the case.”
Magnolia clangs the lid onto the top of the stockpot. “Fuck. He’ll probably be trying to pin this bullshit on me too.”
“Not a chance that’ll stick. You have an alibi, and even if you didn’t, the good detective isn’t going to suspect a woman did this. This was . . .” I trail off, thinking of how to describe the gruesome scene. “Different. And I’d stake my money on the fact it was a man, for sure. Women don’t generally do that kind of thing.”
“It was that bad?” she asks quietly.
I frown and scratch the back of my neck where the hairs are still on end. “Yeah. But nothing you need to see or think about.”
Trey keeps poking around in the case file on Brandon’s wife, but there’s nothing helpful we can find. Fingerprints were lifted from the scene, but after Brandon and his wife’s were eliminated, there were three other sets of prints that haven’t resulted in any matches yet. No sign of forced entry. No shoe or boot prints found in the yard.
Whoever did this isn’t an amateur.
“That’s a big fat zero for information,” Trey says, clicking out of the murder case. “Let’s see if they have anything on the break-in.” His fingers go speeding across the keys again, and he pulls up the file on Cavender’s investigation of the incident at Magnolia’s condo.
“Check the forensics first,” I tell him.
He’s already on it, though, and we both scan the report as it pops up on the screen.
Trey notices something first, and lifts his hand off the keys and fists it against his mouth. “Fuck. It really was human blood.” His head swivels in my direction, and I read the unease in his gaze.
“That’s what Mount said he heard.” Magnolia’s voice is low and quiet.
I leave Trey’s side and head to her at the stove. I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her. “You’re never going back there, and whoever this sick fuck is—we’re taking him out. Don’t give him a second of your time by worrying. It’s not worth it.”
“But whose blood was it?” she whispers with a shiver.
“We’ll figure that out too, mama. Trust me.”
I’m telling her the truth. My brain has been trying to connect the dots on this fucking puzzle since it started unfolding. I go over the timeline of events I’ve been striving to make sense of.
“Ricardo Ortiz tried to kill you. You killed him. Now someone else is coming after you—who we gotta assume is connected to Ortiz. So it stands to reason someone hired the guy to kill you. Could that someone have been Brandon or his wife?”
Magnolia presses closer into my body. “I don’t know why either of them would. Desiree thinks Brandon ran off with one of her girls— Wait. Let’s play this one out. If Brandon ran off with Naya . . . his wife would be pissed.” She jerks her chin up at me. “That makes sense. Doesn’t it?”
I follow her logic. “It could, but wouldn’t a wife go after the woman he ran off with . . . or Desiree? Why you?”
“Because I own the house. Everyone knows I own the house. It’s easy to look up. But could the bitch have been crazy enough to pay someone to kill me because her husband ran off with a girl who just happened to live in a house I owned?”
Jules freezes on the other side of the kitchen island. “Woman scorned. That’s all I’m saying. Your scenario makes sense when you add up the rest. Brandon’s wife could’ve found your name and hired Ortiz to kill you. It’s not too hard to figure out Ortiz went into your building and didn’t come out alive. Someone might care about that enough to go after the person who paid him for the job that got him killed. Maybe to find out who his target was in the building? Then Brandon’s wife gets tortured and killed for the information. It all fits.”
Magnolia’s head swings toward Jules, and I could punch him in the face right now. “He tortured her?”
I use my hand to steer her worried face back to me. “Hey. Don’t think about that shit. Not any of it.”
“But . . . but if he tortured her—” She blinks up at me, and I already know what the fuck she’s imagining before she says it. “What the hell would he do to—”
I press my lips to hers before she can finish the sentence, but her eyes are on mine and I see the concern in them.
When I pull back, I match her head-on. “No one’s getting their hands on you. You hear me?”
She exhales and then lifts her chin. “I hear you. But we gotta find whoever the fuck it is so we can take him out. How are we gonna do that?”
“Wonder if Ortiz left a car behind,” Jules says, swiping a hand over his jaw.
I latch onto what might be the first good lead we’ve had. “That’s a damn good question.” I release Magnolia and point at Trey. “Can you see if Cavender found one?”
Trey nods, and his fingers go flying again as he brings up the case file for Ortiz’s unsolved murder. A murder that’ll remain unsolved for a long fucking time, if it’s up to me.
“There’s no mention of a car. Nothing but forensics and Cavender’s notes. He definitely wants to pin it on Magnolia, but he’s only got the location working in his favor.”
I drum my fingers on the island as I concentrate. “Anything towed or impounded recently from nearby? Abandoned cars?”
“Oh, good idea.” It’s a few minutes before Trey speaks again. “Okay, we might have something. One car was impounded yesterday. Abandoned.”
“What kind of car, and how far away from Magnolia’s condo?” I ask, walking over to him as he types the address in and calculates the distance.
“Mustang. Two-tenths of a mile.” He looks up at me with a grin. “We might’ve just gotten lucky.”
“Y’all can thank me later,” Jules says as he raises his hand in the air.
“It’s still at the impound?” I ask Trey.
“Damn right it is. So . . . how the hell are we going to get to it?”
Magnolia pauses, lifting the lid off the pot. “The city impound lot? I know a cop who works there.”
All eyes in the room swing to her.
“Well. I don’t know him, but I know who he is. He always wanted to get better acquainted, if you catch my drift.”
“Caught it, mama. Think he’ll do you a favor?”
She grimaces with a shake of her head. “I’m not so sure about a favor, but I could definitely go with you and distract him if I need to.”
The thought of putting her in that position rings warning bells inside me. She’s more than capable, but her safety is paramount. “If we’re breaking into the impound lot, you aren’t involved. Hard no.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “This is to find the person who’s after me. A person who might’ve tortured some jealous woman. You really think me going along in case you need a diversion is more dangerous than the target on my back?”
“She’s got a point there, boss.”
I glare at Jules when he agrees with her. “I don’t like it.”
“And I don’t like not knowing who the hell is looking for me,” Magnolia snaps back. “We’ll go tonight. Maybe you won’t even need me. But if you do, I’ll be there. Can Trey cut the camera feeds so no one sees you going in or out?”
“Yes, Trey can,” Trey says in agreement.
All three of them look at me, the odd one out who doesn’t want Magnolia involved in anything that could possibly go sideways.
I take a slow, deep breath and let it out. “Fine. You can come along, but you only jump in as a last resort. Jules and I can handle ourselves. I’m not taking a chance that any of this blows back on you. Cavender is too fucking interested in you, and I don’t want to hand him another reason to look closer. Got it?”
Magnolia smiles and offers me a salute. “Got it. Now, this needs to simmer a while, and then we can eat.”
Seven
Magnolia
The guys devoured my jambalaya, coming back for seconds, and even thirds for Jules. Moses kissed me on the forehead and thanked me for the meal, but I could tell he was uneasy about the plans for later.
He’s still anxious now, based on the looks he’s shooting me from across the room as I carefully apply my makeup in the bathroom mirror.
I pause, mascara wand in hand, and glance his way. “It’ll be fine. I don’t know why you’re worrying about me so much. This is far from the most dangerous thing I’ve ever been involved in, Moby.”
Moses pulls a black T-shirt out of a drawer, tosses it on the bed, and comes toward the bathroom door. “You saying shit like that doesn’t change my mind. Matter of fact, it just makes me wish I’d been able to come back a hell of a lot sooner to make sure you didn’t have to take risks. I hate that, mama. The thought of you in harm’s way fucking kills me.”
Warmth blooms around my heart at the sound of his voice and the words he’s speaking. How long has it been since anyone but Keira has worried about me doing anything?
I slide the mascara wand back in the tube and set it in my makeup bag before meeting him outside the bathroom.
His hands go to my waist, pulling me against him in a way I love. Moses is a tactile guy, and I adore how he always wants to have his hands on me. Have me close to him. Every time I get near, I want to soak up his body heat. He’s potent, that’s for damn sure.
“Don’t think like that,” I tell him quietly, tilting up to kiss his jaw. “Because I’m still here. You’re still here. We’re both fine. Whatever happened to either of us in the past is just that—in the past. Tonight, you probably won’t even need me, but I’m going all the same because you’re doing this for me. What kind of woman—no, what kind of partner—would I be if I just sat back and let you do all the work?”
“The kind who stays safe so I don’t have to worry,” he says, his voice low as he angles his head to nibble along my jawline.
“You’re saying you’d be fine leaving me here by myself while the three of you go to the impound lot? You wouldn’t be worried about me being here all alone? Because I don’t believe that either.” I poke a finger into his chest, and he pulls back.
Moses’s mouth flattens into a line, but even now, I can see I’ve got him as the corners threaten to turn up.
“You know I’m right. You wouldn’t be too keen on leaving me alone and unprotected either. I see it on your face.”
His big hand comes up, and his thumb strokes along my jaw before burying in my hair. “How the hell do you know me so well again, already?” The words come out before he presses a kiss to my lips.
“Because I know you,” I say with a smile.
He moves in to pair our mouths. “Shut up and kiss me, woman. You win. I’ll quit fucking worrying.”
My giggle is smothered by the taste of Moses, and my entire body lights up, ready for him, even after a single kiss. When he lifts his head, I read the desire on his face too. We spark each other to life with no effort at all.
Moses must see it on my face too. “Hold that thought, mama. When we get back, I’m spending all night inside you.”
“Damn right you are,” I tell him, rolling my hips to grind my clit on his thigh while we’re standing there. “I just don’t want to wait.”
Both his hands drop to my waist and squeeze, setting me back a step from him. “After this is done, and you’re home safe.”
His genuine concern settles over me, and I love how it feels. “You bribing me with sex to stay out of trouble?” I ask, my eyebrows tugging upward.
“Fucking right I am, if that’s the incentive you need. Is it working?”
I burst out laughing. “You’re something else, Moby. Now, let me finish getting dressed, and I’ll be ready to rock.”
He checks his watch. “We have forty-five minutes before we should leave. Take your time, mama. The boys and I’ll be waiting for you.”
He gives me a firm kiss, and I watch him walk out of the bedroom.
Damn, the ass on that man ought to be illegal. Then I remember something that makes me smile. It’s all mine.
I slip back into the bathroom and finish my war paint.
We’re getting answers tonight. I can feel it. Because I’m done living in fear. It’s time for this bloodthirsty motherfucker to go down.
Eight
Moses
When Magnolia walks out into the living room, all ready to go, I want to march her right back to the bedroom and lock her inside.
Jules whistles. “Damn, woman. Talk about a diversion. Shit.”
“Nice,” Trey says, clapping as well as he can with his computer tucked under his arm.
I drag my gaze from the toes of her stilettos, up her mile-long bare legs, to the green dress she’s got on, hugging every damn curve. She’s sexy as fuck, showing just enough skin to make a man realize all she’s got to offer, but the dress covers plenty of her and leaves you wanting more.
I close the distance between us wordlessly.
“I’m ready,” she says with ruby-slicked lips.
I can’t help but want them wrapped around my cock. Blood pumps south, and my dick comes to life. I drag my attention away from that pouty mouth to her whiskey-colored eyes.
“You’re fucking gorgeous. I want to wrap you in a trash bag so no one, especially not some nosy cop, gets a chance to see my woman looking sexy as fuck.”
Instead of frowning at me, Magnolia’s lips curve into the most devastating smile I’ve ever seen on her face. Her eyes sparkle, and she leans toward me. “I’d be just as sexy in a trash bag. Deal with it, Moby.”
Her confident words make a chuckle spill from my lips. “Goddamn, you’re right, and I know it.” Losing the smile, I cup her shoulders with my palms. “But you gotta promise me something.”
She cocks her gorgeous head to one side. “What?”
“You’re a last resort. Jules and I are totally capable of doing this by ourselves. You only get out of the car if we’re about to get caught in the act. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
God, I love hearing her say shit like that, and I can’t find any words before she speaks again.
“I’ll be fine. It ain’t like I’m going to go work a corner. Now that would be dangerous. So just have a little faith, Moby. It’s all gonna be right as rain. Tonight, we’re making progress.” She brings her purse between us and flips it open to check inside. When she snaps it shut, she adds, “I’m all set. You guys good to go?”
I’ve been m
anaged by a pro, and I can’t find it in me to mind.
“Yeah, mama. We’re ready.”
All four of us load up into the SUV and head over to Claiborne and the impound lot. Jules is driving, and Trey has his laptop out and is typing away behind him. I’m in the passenger seat with Magnolia behind me, and it’s quiet on the ride over.
We drive under the highway, and Jules takes us in a slow loop around the lot. “Okay, so they’ve got at least one cop who should be acting as security. But it looks like he’s MIA right now.”
“That’s a good sign, right?” Magnolia asks.
“Good enough,” I reply, glancing into the back seat. “But it also means we don’t know where he’s at or when he’s coming back. So we’ll need to work fast.”
“If you give me a few more minutes, I’ll be ready to cut the cameras. I’m pulling them all up right now. And the Mustang is in spot 117. So . . .” Trey’s keyboard clacks as he does his thing. “Actually, do another loop around the other block and come back and park on the far corner. It’s darker over there. You should be pretty close to the car that way, and hopefully no one will even notice any of us.”
“I’m on it,” Jules says, stopping at a corner and flipping on the blinker. Cop cars are parked in front of the squatty brown building where errant law-abiding citizens are supposed to go to pay their fines and get their keys. But we aren’t those people and haven’t been for a long damn time.
As soon as Jules makes a circuit around the block and approaches the corner and curb where we’ll park, I check to make sure I’ve got everything. Gun. Phone. Slim Jim. Good.
“Jules, you got the rest of the tools?” I ask as he brings the SUV to a stop.
He pats his pockets, pulls out a zippered case, and nods. “Got it all. You ready?”
I twist around to the back of my seat to look at Mags. “You know your role?”