Two men exited the van and headed toward the house. On their way inside, they passed a tall, lanky officer who’d stepped onto the porch carrying a clipboard. From the distance, he looked mighty familiar.
“Excuse me,” he yelled to Brock. He must have had the same thoughts, because he gawked at Brock as if trying to remember a prior acquaintance. “Does anyone else live at this address?”
“Nope.” Trevor was too much a lady’s man to share his bungalow, so a wife and kids were out of the question. As a matter of fact, he’d been the only buddy in their pack who’d tried talking Bobby out of marrying Sherry Grady. Wait until that poor bastard heard the news. He and Trevor were tighter than twine weaving on a rope. “His parents reside in Dallas.”
As the cop approached, Brock recognized him from Tiff’s apartment building. He had a distinct V-shaped scar on his face not many could forget.
He puffed his chest while extending his hand to Brock. “Officer Wilson. You found the bodies?”
“Unfortunately.” He shook hands with the officer. “What do you think happened in there?”
“Probable murder-suicide.” The officer clicked the button on his pen and positioned it over a sheet of paper on the clipboard. “Your name?”
Murder-suicide? Hell, things looked too peaceful inside. Besides, Trevor loved life. He’d never have taken a person’s life and certainly would never have taken his own. “I beg to disagree. Trevor enjoyed life too much to end it.”
“I don’t recall saying he’s the perpetrator. How well did you know the woman?”
“Never met her.”
“Your name?”
“Brock Halston.”
The officer stilled. Slowly, he lifted his head. Both brows rose, and he settled his gaze on Brock’s. “You the same Halston affiliated with a woman named Tiffany Stoler?”
Brock glared. He didn’t appreciate the inquiry. The important matter at hand pertained to Trevor and the woman inside; the cop had no business bringing Tiff into the mix. That was an entirely separate case, full of bullshit. “That depends.”
Wilson quickly jotted Brock’s name. “On?”
“Why you’re asking.”
He nodded once, and continued writing. “Just wondering why your name is suddenly coming up all over the place,” he replied sarcastically.
Brock stepped closer and glanced at the paper. Next to his name, the officer had added Tiff’s in parenthesis. “For the record, yeah, I’m that Halston,” he said bluntly, and pounded his index finger on the paper beside her name. “And while you’re making sure to get all the facts, Tiffany was with me the night of the other murder. Make damn sure you put that in your notes.”
“You don’t say.”
Brock placed a hand on his hip. “So concentrate on what the hell is going on rather than taking the time to harass an innocent woman.”
“We were getting around to questioning you. Are you sure you want to be her alibi?”
“I’m damned sure because she told you the truth. We were together the whole night.”
“Think about that for a while before you sign an affidavit. She’s a person of interest. You’re her alibi, and now you found two more bodies.”
Brock couldn’t help swallowing…hard.
“Maybe you’re a suspect now too.”
“Ah, bullshit!”
“Yeah, you got that right. I think I’m being fed a load of crap.”
Chapter Seven
Tiffany set her purse on the porch, cell phone on the seat, and gently swayed back and forth on Brock’s swing while waiting his return home. An eerie sensation whittled her spine as if she wasn’t alone. Wrapping her arms tightly at her waist, she gazed around the yard but saw nothing besides trees, the horse arena, cows and the barn.
The chains periodically creaked, adding a welcomed intrusion within the silence. Not a single sound of nature presented itself, which seemed strange for late afternoon. But, like her, every one of God’s creatures was entitled to a bad day. She hadn’t felt like chatting much either, and had left work early so she wouldn’t spread her misery onto the children. They deserved so much more than she was capable of giving today. And it wasn’t fair to lie continuously when they asked why she looked so sad. Even Owen, the four-year-old normally attached to her side, avoided her all morning. On a good day, his history of abuse and severe scars brought her close to tears. Today made it pure hell not to cry while looking into his sweet eyes.
It fit in perfectly with the aura of the past two days.
The only thing in her favor was Brock’s willingness to loan her money for legal fees. Seriously considering the offer, she pushed aside today’s plans of contacting attorneys during her lunch break. Rather than settle for whoever offered the lowest rates, she needed to hire the best, period. That required a little more time and attention.
She lay down on the swing, curling on her side, and closed her eyes. One sway at a time, as if tucked into a huge puffy cloud, she started to doze. Through a grayish haze, a beautiful meadow of rainbow-colored flowers emerged. Red tulips, yellow buttercups, blue azaleas, and green carnations surrounded her. Thousands of butterflies appeared, fluttering their wings. One by one the beauties took flight, circling her. She was little girl again and danced beneath their wings, her hair flowing in the breeze while celebrating utter freedom. Her skin was pure and free of scars. And she laughed as any normal child would.
“Let’s lay you down inside before you fall off that swing.”
Tiffany opened her eyes to find herself swaddled in Brock’s arms while he carried her toward the house.
“Hi,” she said sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Three-thirty. You’re early.” He stood her on her feet while he unlocked and opened the door. “Been here long?”
“About a half an hour.”
“Go rest a bit in my bed. I’ll wake you when dinner’s done.”
“I’d rather not. I’d prefer to talk now if you have the time.” After she stepped over the threshold, she walked to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair to sit down.
“I didn’t expect you until six o’clock.”
“I had to leave early. I didn’t want to upset the kids with my mood.”
“Well, I’m all ears,” he said, taking a seat opposite her. He lifted her leg onto his lap, popped off her shoe and began massaging the bottom of her foot.
She hadn’t realized it ached until it relaxed from the pressure he applied to the arch. “Brock, I know you don’t want an apology, but I owe you one. My intentions were to never speak to you again.”
“You’ve already said as much.”
She studied him for a moment. Prevalent frown lines connected his brows, and his jaw protruded as if clenching his teeth. Could he be mad despite his contrary actions and disposition? “I’ve decided to accept your generous offer of a loan. But only under one condition.” She lifted an index finger.
A brow rose.
“I pay you back a little each month until it’s paid in full.”
“If you say so.”
“I’m serious, Brock.”
“So am I.”
She relaxed against the chair back, folding arms at her breast. His brow returned to the scrunched position as he scrutinized every inch of her face. An unusual hardness had definitely taken possession of his features. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’ve got my mind on a few things is all.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. I’m resting easier since you clarified your thoughts.”
“Then what is it? Is there anything I can do?”
“Just digesting more bad news.”
“Like what? I’m a good listener.”
He gently set her foot on the floor and stood up. After a soft lift of her chin, he walked to the sink and glanced out the window. “I found my buddy Trevor Malone and a woman dead inside his house a little while ago.”
“Brock, that’s horrible,” she said, ag
hast. “I am so sorry.” She joined him at the sink and placed her hand on his lower back. The muscles were bunched and knotted. She initiated a gentle back and forth massage. They loosened a little with each stroke. “Are you okay?”
“I’m trying to sort through it, but it’s not making much sense.” He turned, took hold of her free hand and held it to his mouth, kissing it gingerly.
“Is that the same Trevor who attended the bachelor party? I filled an order for him, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” He grinned while lowering her hand. “He’s the one who thought the penis ring was a pipe seal.”
She really hoped to forget that evening. And soon. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. That cop Wilson assessed the scene. He’s leaning toward murder-suicide.”
“Officer Wilson, who’s working Mr. Woodenhaven’s case?”
“He seems the type to make quick decisions.”
“I’m under the same assumption.”
“Can’t say I agree with his theory. Trevor wasn’t suicidal, nor was he a murderer. And no way in hell would the woman have overpowered him. They looked too peaceful for that bullshit anyhow. When I came across their bodies, I thought they were asleep.”
Was that a tear in his eye? Her heart tumbled. She reached upward and stroked his cheek. His eyes closed as he leaned into her palm. Witnessing his pain while he fought for strength was her undoing. Do cowboys cry? “How can I help you?”
“You’ve got enough troubles, Tiff. Let this lie.”
How could he say that? How could he think her problems were so much larger than his when he’d lost a close friend? With luck, the right attorney could clear her of any crime. Who knows, maybe the police might even find the killer before charging her. But losing a friend for life…
“I’ll be all right, darlin’.”
No, he wouldn’t. Not until he properly grieved. His eyes were glossy and red, and his body stiff. Stretching up on tiptoes, she guided his face close and planted her mouth firmly against his. His warm lips trembled slightly. In a sudden desperate hug, his arms locked behind her back, and he pulled her tightly against his body. Large chest muscles flattened her breasts, the force of the embrace revealing his pain. He required an outlet for everything he kept locked away. She could sense he was strung tight and needed a release. She could give it to him. She’d do anything possible to relieve him of those burdens.
Without another thought, she reached between them and unfastened his pants, yanking the zipper open. With the first brush of her fingers, his cock sprang to full size, poking above the waistband of his underwear. A small amount of pre-cum dribbled from the large crown. She gave it a gentle caress with her thumb, smearing the moisture around the head. He groaned and slipped his tongue deep inside her mouth. His hands wandered all over her body, from her ass to her breasts, pinching her nipples through her blouse. They hardened into sensitive buds, but despite the wonderful tingles causing her pussy to ache, she grabbed his fingers.
“No,” she whispered, placing his hand at his sides. “This time it’s all about you.”
“Tiff—”
“Shhh.” She slid his jeans and underpants off his hips to the center of his thighs. His long bulky shaft fell free in a mouth-watering invitation she couldn’t ignore. She dropped to her knees. After giving the tip a quick sweep of her tongue, she leaned forward and gently kissed his pubic area while cuddling his firm ass cheeks with her palms. His pants fell to his ankles.
The scent of soap and masculinity slithered into her senses, igniting a fire in her veins.
He groaned, leaned his backside against the counter, and took possession of the sides of her head with his hands. The strength of his hold relayed his desire to control the situation—dominate what would happen. Like hell he would. She’d do things to him in her own sweet time. She currently had control. Her belly somersaulted, and she slid her hand between his legs to give his balls a slight caress. Another groan escaped his throat. She nuzzled her cheek along his coarsely haired pubic bone before moving down to flick the base of his penis with her tongue.
While intensifying the caress to his testicles, she licked the complete back of his rod, stopping to toy with the underside of the tip.
Sucking cock wasn’t a pleasure she allowed herself to do many men. Unless they elicited some form of emotional feelings from her, it was too personal an act to perform. Unforeseen reasons had placed Brock into that elite category, and she wanted to make love to him with her mouth as passionately as she had with her body. She literally wanted to gobble him up. Please him. And outshine any woman who’d ever been blessed with the opportunity to share his body.
She placed her mouth on the side of his erection and nibbled it from the head to the base, not missing an iota of skin. His moans were music to her ears, spurring her to do it again. She teased him then, twirling her tongue around and around the head until he was gently bucking his hips, attempting to drive his cock into her mouth. He needed more, wanted more and she reveled in setting the pace. Arousal dampened her panties as she gave him some harder strokes.
He fisted his penis. “Take it, Tiff.”
Another somersault spun in her belly. In time, yes, she’d take it, but right now she wanted to toy with him. Don’t think about Trevor. Think about me—us and where we’ll wind up. Slowly, she lowered her lips over the head, flicking the underside with her tongue. While she suckled it, he thrust his hips as if trying to take more, go deeper.
She removed his hand from his cock, replacing it with her own. That’s it, let me take care of you. The thick shaft swelled to the hardness of a rock. She removed her mouth, grabbed his arm and guided him to the floor. She wanted his knees weak and his head spinning. After he settled onto his back, she sat near his waist with one leg outstretched beside his head. As she fondled his testicles and teased his cock, his breathing turned labored, and his body stiffened.
Her pussy ached, begging for attention, but every time he slid his hand between her thighs she batted it away. This wasn’t about her, and she’d make damn sure he’d lay there, at her mercy. He’d already lifted his head, his gaze focused on her face as she tormented his cock. The tip was wet and shiny from pre-cum mixed with saliva. She gazed into his eyes as she placed the head in her mouth. The passion beneath his narrowed lids warmed her belly. Watch me. Feel me. Want me. She inched down his width, stroking her tongue back and forth as she did. Over and over she slid up and down his thick rod, loving his taste and the feel of him. She didn’t let up as she painstakingly licked. His eyes closed. That’s when she slid him deep, gliding his incredible length down the back of her throat.
He gasped and held his breath. “Christ, woman,” he growled through clenched teeth.
Every inch of him turned concrete hard, including his testicles, proving he was ready to come. His thigh muscles bulged. His fingers moved to the back of her head, holding her in place while he pumped his cock in long fluid strokes. She clasped his balls again, massaging them while completely embedding his cock back in her throat. Her nose grazed his lower abdomen, where sweat and the scent of male arousal accumulated. It set her cunt on fire.
Nothing compared to the feeling of his long, thick penis fucking her mouth. He hadn’t touched her, not really, but her pussy creamed and contracted with each stroke she gave. Almost there, Brock. Let me make this good for you. So good, and hot.
He’d managed to sneak his hand between her legs. Too lost in the moment, she didn’t stop him from rubbing the wet center of her pantyhose. Damn, why had she worn them? Yes, oh yes, rub me, stroke me, pinch my clit.
She could barely catch her breath as she repeatedly went down on him. For every stroke she gave, she received one in return. The harder and faster she moved, the more satisfaction she got. She no longer cared he’d taken partial control of the situation. She wanted him deep. She needed to taste his cum. Come for me, Brock.
His shaft jumped in her mouth as the salty taste of semen filled her throat. She
groaned, separated her legs and greedily rubbed her aching pussy against his fingers. In mere seconds, she exploded into orgasm, wetting his fingers despite the panties and hose. She greedily sucked and gorged herself on his cum as his ass lifted from the floor.
“Yeah, Jesus, yeah. Suck me.”
With strength completely drained, she collapsed against him and closed her eyes, sated and at peace for the first time in days.
Brock tucked both arms around her waist, snuggling her in the nook of his armpit right where she liked, near his heartbeat. “Not that I’m complaining, darlin’, but would you mind explaining what that was all about?”
A jolt of uneasiness stopped her heart, forcing her lids wide open. It wasn’t the question itself setting her back, but the accusatory tone. It appeared her good deed had backfired. “What do you mean?”
He chuckled. “I reckon it’s your first installment?”
Installment? How dare he! She sat up, glaring into his eyes. Heat wormed a path along the back of her neck and her cheeks burned. “I’m not my mother’s daughter in that respect.”
She tried jumping to her feet, but he grabbed her by the wrist.
“Whoa, calm down. I’m kidding.”
“Let’s just forget the whole thing.” She yanked her arm free. “I don’t need your money.”
“You’d rather go to jail?”
“Yes, if that’s your perception of me, I’d rather rot behind bars.”
“I know it’s not your nature. I can still feel the sting on my face from your prior fury.”
“So why say such a thing?”
“Thought you loosened up a bit since then and could take a joke,” he said, pulling on his pants.
“It’s not funny. And it won’t ever be funny.” Again, she tried jumping to her feet, but unfortunately, his hand sprang forward and gripped her forearm. Within seconds he straddled her thighs, fighting her to her back on the floor, protecting her head so it wouldn’t crash into the hardwood. “Get off me, Brock.”
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