Charlie had also sent an email to his ex-wife as a safety measure if anything went wrong. Martha had known what Charlie had been up to no good. He had twenty thousand deposited into his account. He was to get another fifty thousand when he delivered the will.
Martha believed that Helen Barlow discovered what her son had planned.
Brophy’s instincts told him that was what Helen had sent Riley. His instincts told him that Freddy’s worry about his cousin was real. His instincts told him to act immediately.
He had.
Darren had agreed to the plan, with a clear warning about the consequences if it had gone awry. The Ashcrofts weren’t a family to try to be manipulated unless you were damn sure you were right.
The girl looked up at them and frowned. She sat the envelope down.
Brophy looked around. “Where’s Kincaid?”
She glanced quickly over her shoulder and then back at the two men. “I asked him to wait in the living room. I’d rather this conversation stay between us.”
Brophy studied her. She surprised him. He had thought for sure she would have had at least a lawyer beside her, but she sat alone, with her shoulders squared and without any sign of emotion.
Darren took a seat across from Riley, already prepared to begin. Brophy sat.
“You understand I’m here as a courtesy. With the potential legal ramifications pertaining to the document you hold, it was thought the best course of action,” Darren stated in a firm business manner. “You understand that the document you hold in your hand is considered evidence in an ongoing murder investigation?”
“Yes.”
“This is the document that Helen Barlow sent you?”
“Yes.”
“Considering the events that have occurred over the last week, you must have realized its importance. Why did you not come forward?”
“I needed time to think.” Riley ran a hand over her forehead and shifted in her chair. “Do you not realize how important it is to me to prove that the will is authentic? I have contended since my grandfather’s death that he had this will drawn up.”
“But wouldn’t it have necessitated that it be looked at?”
“You don’t know my family well. I didn’t know if I could trust Helen. She was there when Grandfather showed the will to me. When he told me I was included…that I was part of the family. But after my grandfather passed, Helen refused to come forward.
“Then, she calls me and says her conscience has plagued her. She wants me to have the will and that she had been wrong. Helen had been so loyal to Grandfather and in turn Walter, I questioned if it was some trick that my family was playing on me. I wondered if Walter put her up to it.”
Brophy exchanged looks with Darren and nodded. It was a good start. The girl’s words resonated truth. She wouldn’t have known about the blackmail, but there were still so many unanswered questions.
“Why were you there at Helen Barlow’s the morning of the murder?”
Kennedy asked the question looking down at the envelope, but raised his eyes for her answer.
“My cousin wanted me to go with him.”
“And…”
She hesitated and lowered her gaze. “Freddy wanted to ask—”
“Don’t go there,” Brophy interjected. “I’ve heard that one where your cousin wanted to ask for forgiveness for his drug-induced past. Don’t buy it. What did his father want him to do? Why did Walter Ashcroft send his son to Helen Barlow’s?”
“Walter?” she repeated. Her voice was displaced…distant.
“Look, Miss Ashcroft, your uncle keeps coming up in our investigation. When that happens, he becomes a person of interest in Helen Barlow’s murder. Don’t hold onto some misguided loyalty.”
“Loyalty to Walter? I doubt it,” she snapped. “I just don’t believe that he would do anything to harm Freddy…”
“Have you ever heard of a narcissist? I would characterize your uncle as one. Someone who only cares about his needs…his wants. But if not your uncle, you have to believe someone is out there who wants to do you harm,” Brophy asserted. “Someone who doesn’t want a new will to emerge. The list isn’t that long. Could be as few as the members of your family in the waiting room this afternoon.”
Her eyes flamed. “Do you think I’m a fool, Detective? Do you not know I realized what you were doing? You are using me as bait.”
“I beg to differ,” Darren countered. “There are no guarantees, but I believe you are in less danger now than you were before this morning. In fact, I believe it may help you. Since we have confiscated the will as evidence in a murder investigation, the document will have to be authenticated. This could be very beneficial to you.
“Second, you no longer have to live in fear that someone is out there waiting in the shadows.”
“You sure about that? Because I’m not.” She stood. “This is over. You have what you came for.”
“Just sign here.” Kennedy handed her a form to confirm the district attorney was now in possession of the document. He gave Riley her copy. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
She made no protest, but Brophy felt her eyes on them until the door was closed.
Walking down the driveway, Brophy reached into his pocket and pulled out a new pack of Marlboros. Pulling the cellophane wrapper from his cigarettes, he shook one out and placed it in his mouth.
“She’s hiding something.” He lit up his smoke.
“I agree, but what?”
Brophy drew in a puff and blew it out over his head. “Something that can still get her killed.”
Chapter Ten
Riley stood at the living room window and stared into the darkness without a sense of time. The police had long since departed. The lawn and driveway had been cleared of cop cars. Moonlight shone down on the quiet, peaceful scene.
How deceiving.
Her mind raced with a million thoughts. The past and present mingling in confusion. When had life become so complicated? But she couldn’t lose courage now.
Too much depended upon her.
There was so much she didn’t know, but this much she knew as a fact: Detective Brophy was wrong.
He thought she was safe now, but she had never felt so afraid. Not for herself, but what would happen if she failed.
For a brief moment, she had considered telling the police officer what she feared. She had quickly dismissed the thought. Had she not learned over the years she could trust no one, especially not the man who had stayed with her?
Josh Kincaid.
She realized she played with fire. For her own sanity, she should have kept him at arm’s length. But she had a great need for him to dig deep into her family. Not only to scrape the surface of their misdeeds, but unearth their most hidden secrets.
Something told her that he could be the one to do the impossible. She sensed the truth was close at hand.
A distraction could ruin everything…a mistake she could regret for the rest of her days.
But it had been so long since someone had made her heart race with only a look. A touch sent a warming sensation throughout her body. Would it be so wrong to take a semblance of comfort, if only for a moment?
Under no illusion, she was well aware their attraction to each other was not out of love. He was after a story; she…had never had she felt so alone.
“Is something wrong?” His voice resonated his concern.
“Just thinking.” She shook her head and lowered the shades. “I’m afraid I’m not much company. If you want to go…”
This time, it was Kincaid who shook his head. “I’m not leaving you tonight.”
After a moment of thoughtful silence, she said quietly, “Detective Brophy feels I’m safer tonight than I was last night.”
“Bullshit. We both know he’s stirring up a hornet’s nest.”
She made no argument. She sighed. “I should set the alarm.”
“It’s taken care of. I found Lonnie’s notebook when I started dinner. He wrote do
wn the details of the security system. I think he left it for you to use. He also left some frozen homemade tomato sauce. Dinner’s ready when you are.”
“Bailey?”
“I brought her inside. She’s lying by the back door.” He moved around the couch and lowered the last shade. “While you were talking to the police, my handyman came and fixed your door to the guesthouse. It will serve your purpose until you can get a new door. You still want to stay here? We can go to my place…even Bailey.”
“I would rather stay here.”
She glanced around the handsome room. It was large, but filled with the remnants of lives past. The furniture was outdated, but elegant. More importantly, the house had the feel of her grandmother.
The pale-green walls had its original molding. On either side of the fireplace were arched shelves, decorated with antique Chinese porcelain rose vases. On the wall opposite the fireplace, photographs hung, mostly black-and-white. Every one a happy memory: smiling faces, old and young alike. Christmases. Birthdays.
The difference between a house and a home.
From the first moment she set foot in the house, she imagined it filled with children, laughing and playing, Sunday morning breakfasts, and snuggling in front of the warm fireplace on a cold winter’s night. But it wasn’t to be. At least not for her.
“This is a lovely house. I understand why you’re disappointed on losing it.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t know if it’s disappointment more than being disillusioned. I wanted it because it was a piece of my history. A connection to Nana. But I was foolish to ever get my hopes up that this would have been mine. My family has a way of crushing dreams.”
“Perhaps with the will, things will be different.”
“Do you think so?” she questioned with a hint of disbelief in her voice. “I’m not so sure. In honesty, I was relieved when Detective Brophy took it. I truly didn’t know what to do with it. Even if it is authenticated, Walter has always done what he has to do to keep what he considers his.”
“Even murder?”
There was a tense moment, with the vivid reminder of the world around them. Her eyes narrowed. She had no answer for him. Instead, she asked, “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question,” he said softly. “More than once. If you want me to have a logical answer, I don’t have one.”
He moved closer. She turned her back to him. For some reason, she was overwhelmed with emotions. Heaven forbid, he sees tears welling.
Wrapping his strong arms around her waist, he whispered, “Trust me.”
She was so afraid of this man, afraid of losing herself completely. Ultimately, that was the main reason she should stop this before it went any further.
She didn’t.
Desire ruled her judgment. Passion craved his touch, his kiss.
Sensing the edge of surrender, he taunted her, burying his head at the nape of her neck and indulging in a series of cascading kisses on her sensitized skin until her only thought was him. Every part of her throbbed with need, especially the swelling dampness between her legs. She wanted this…she wanted him.
His hand slid down the length of her dress as his fingers flickered over the hem. Slowly, smoothly, he moved his hand up her leg, bunching her dress along her waist while he brushed against her calf, tickling and teasing, causing the whole of her body to tingle.
A warmth spread to the deepest part of her. Upward he traveled, slipping between her legs, touching her in ways that lulled her with a promise of what was to come. His touch was sensual…magical and downright dangerous.
Suddenly, her mind rebelled, reminding her how wrong this would be. But with each caress, her resolve weakened. She needed to say “don’t,” and walk away. The words never left her lips.
She was crazed. How could this be possible—to fall this fast or this hard for someone she hardly knew?
Turning in his arms, she faced him. His longing expression made her breath catch in her throat.
He was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said in a deep, low voice that sent shivers down to her very soul, “You’re lovely, Riley. So lovely.”
She ran her hands over his shoulders and muscular, powerful arms. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.
He needed nothing else. No other woman had ever taken his breath away like this. He’d be damned if he lost this moment.
Lips parting, tongue touching his, he eased her over to the couch and pulled her down with him. Every kiss, every touch was filled with raw need.
Her mouth pressed one kiss after another against his lips. His tongue stroked against hers; she responded with a passion that matched his.
He had spent the day frustrated with a new sensation to him—fear. She had scared the fucking shit out of him. The thought that something had happened to her had made him reckless.
Riley Ashcroft was the most frustrating woman on earth, and yet she had this hold on him. His thoughts were consumed with her. Rationally, he understood the two had not known each other for a long time, but his desire for her felt it had been denied for an eternity.
“Riley…”
She placed her finger over his lips. “No words, Mr. Kincaid. No words.”
Reaching up, she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his face down to hers. His control was lost.
Piece by piece, clothing was slung over the floor. Running one hand up her naked body, he cupped the back of her neck. He tasted her lips. His fingers, tongue, and lips explored every inch of her.
Her skin was so soft, so inviting. He was mesmerized. She gasped when he moved his hand from her neck to her swelling breast. Desire raced through him as his lips dipped lower to the tip of her breast.
Her breasts were perfect, full and round. He drew her nipple into his mouth; she groaned. He teased her with his lips and tongue. His hand covered her other breast, rubbing and pressing the taut flesh, harder each time.
She shook as moans of pleasure escaped; waves of delight rippled through him. Drawing back, he gazed over her body.
“Please, Josh, don’t stop.”
“Hon, I haven’t begun.”
She whimpered as he caressed her breast and moved lower. With a gentle nudge with his hand, he parted her legs and slid over her sex. His fingers moved between her legs and found her so slick and hot and ready.
“So wet,” he murmured.
With his fingers on her, touching her, feeling her, she arched her back toward him. Panting, she begged for more. “I can’t take much more.”
She wanted him to climb inside her. She needed him inside her. Now.
Her hips moved against his hard arousal. He reached down and took her hand in his.
“Wait.”
Grabbing his pants, he pulled out a condom and ripped it open. Grateful he had the presence of mind, she helped slide the latex protection over his hard shaft. As she looked up at him, he smiled broadly and kissed her, exploding in an overpowering desire that had to be quenched.
He moved in her so he filled her fully. The hardness of his cock made her gasp. She wanted all of him, fast and hard. She cried out as he began his rhythm.
Blood roared in his ears. Driven by a purely carnal need, he drove into her, faster and faster. His rising pulse raced. His breathing quickened. “Riley,” he whispered in a low, deep voice. “Come with me.”
Gripping his shoulders, she answered, crying out, “Oh, Josh!”
She felt the first rippling clench, and then the dam broke. Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave. Their passion answered in a rush of heat and overpowering desire. He collapsed on top of her, sated.
Nothing had ever felt like this before.
He pushed up on his elbow and kissed her lips. “Let’s grab a bottle of wine and take this to the bedroom.”
* * * *
Riley woke up the next morning cradled in the arms of a relative stranger. Yet, never had she felt
so good. He had whispered of the connection they shared. After last night, she couldn’t deny the need she felt for this man.
Naively, she trusted him, but not enough not to realize that this was just a fling. At the moment, she accepted that.
Sunlight filtered into the master bedroom. Memories of the night shared sent shivers through her body. A meal shared, wine poured, and somehow they had managed to make it up the stairs into this room.
Looking up, she found his eyes on her. “How long have you been up?”
“Not long. Just enjoying watching you.”
Running her hand over his chest, she took in his innate power. He took her breath away with a soft kiss.
“Good morning.” He reached over and caressed her cheek, pulling her naked body against him. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Kissing her again, he turned her over on her back. His blue eyes darkened with desire as he looked over her body.
Then his lips were on her. All over her.
Under his spell, she didn’t notice a ringing. In the far recess of her mind, the sound repeated. Suddenly, he pulled back and reached for his phone.
After a quick glance, he frowned. Aggravated, he clicked it and pitched it to the foot of the bed.
“Bad news?”
“Would you believe my mother?” He sighed. “You’re not the only one with family issues. My half-brother Ethan has been in and out of trouble for the last year, but you don’t want to hear about that.”
“It would be only fair.”
Pressing his lips together in thought, he straightened up. “Ethan has had problems since his father, Monty, and Mother divorced. Being only sixteen, he has led Mother on a merry dance since then. I’ve tried to help. It was one of the reasons I moved back to Boston.”
Her heart softened. Family seemed to mean everything to him.
“Go, see what your mother wants.” She placed her hands flat on his chest. “As much as I would enjoy staying like this for the rest of the day, I have to check in on Freddy and see if the gala is still a go.”
Sliding out of bed and his arms, she took the sheet with her. His eyes gleamed, seemingly greatly enjoying her attempt to cover her naked body.
Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) Page 11