by Nina Pierce
She should be pissed. She’d done nothing wrong.
Instead, she was scared shitless.
The door opened and she jumped, unable to control the gasp of surprise at the unexpected intrusion.
“Miss Tilling, I’m Chief Lafflin.” The large man settled his sizable bulk into the chair across from her. His salt and pepper hair, well trimmed beard and ruddy complexion gave him a Santa Claus quality, but Deirdre didn’t fool herself into thinking there was anything jolly about the situation. “How about I take off those handcuffs?”
With a surprising gentleness, he slid a key in the metal and clicked the lock. Though they hadn’t really hurt, Deirdre rubbed at her wrists, savoring her freedom.
“You haven’t touched the coffee. Can I get you something else? Water? Diet cola?”
“No, thank you I’m fine.” Like hell she was. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“You’re welcome to call one if you’d like.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Did the police officers tell you why you’re here?”
“They said they found drugs in my truck. But they’re not mine,” she add quickly. “I don’t know how they got there.” Of course she suspected it had something to do with one of the kids who’d been at the estate, but as scary as this all was, she refused to throw them under the bus until she talked to Mark.
“The truck is registered in your name as a business vehicle for,” the man consulted a clipboard, though Deirdre suspected it was more for dramatic effect, “Tilling Gardens and Plants.”
She didn’t want his deep voice and gentle demeanor to make her comfortable, but Deirdre found herself wanting to trust the man in uniform nonetheless. “That’s right. I’m the landscaping part of the business. I was leaving a job in Cutler when the police swarmed my truck like a SWAT team.”
The chief’s mouth lifted at the corner. “Has anyone used your truck today?”
“No, we were chipping wood into it all day.”
“So it was never out of your sight?”
When she’d walked the property with Jameson, trying to keep his conversation focused on the gardens and trees while her head was working out Austin’s odd reaction in the garage, she wondered if one of Jameson’s thugs had set her up. But admitting that may also throw suspicions on Mark and his students. “Well, I can’t say I was with it every minute today. But yeah, basically.”
“Then how would someone have hidden the drugs without your knowledge?”
“I demand to see her,” a man’s voice bellowed. “No, you can’t stop me. I’m here with her lawyer.”
The commotion in the hallway happened only seconds before the door of the interrogation room flew open. Shawn Jameson strode in with a well dressed man in a business suit behind him.
“Mr. Jameson.” The chief stood. “What can I do for you?”
“This woman is an employee of mine.”
“Shawn I—”
He strode up to Deirdre and put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t say another word, Deirdre. I’ve brought my lawyer.”
Chapter 7
Ayden leaned over the steering wheel of the Saab in the back lot of the precinct. Darkness had descended hours ago, and night hadn’t been far behind. He’d been trapped in the chief’s office for over an hour watching Jameson’s blustery lawyer shout and pontificate about rights and amendments. The Cutler’s big arrest had turned into a three ring circus, with Deirdre sitting center ring. In the end, they’d charged her with only a misdemeanor possession, no intent to traffic, no court date or jail time. A simple fine that could be paid through the mail.
Poor Deirdre.
Who was he kidding? She had pulled the wool over his eyes and led him around by his dick. All fluttery lashes and innocent smiles. “Innocent, my ass.” Ayden slammed back into the seat, banging his head against the leather. Jameson had come to her rescue, his hands all over her as he’d led her out of the interrogation room. Unable to watch anymore of the dog and pony show, Ayden had turned off the cameras. He’d stewed alone in his confusion and anger until Lafflin had returned to his office informing him Jameson’s car had left the premises.
Yeah, Deirdre was definitely more than Jameson’s landscaper.
He started the engine and backed out of the back parking lot.
The way Lafflin had buckled under Jameson’s continued pressure to release Deirdre, Ayden wondered if the man remembered on which side of the law he stood. Obviously someone had tipped Jameson off to the arrest shortly after it had happened and Ayden hated to think the information had filtered through the police station. The slick businessman had practically been right on Ayden’s heels at the station.
He looked in the rearview mirror. Though there were no headlights behind him, he would take a circuitous route back to the 7-Eleven just to be sure.
Ayden had grilled the chief about the citizens of Cutler, specifically anything he knew about Jameson. But Lafflin knew the sophisticated businessman only as a legitimate real estate mogul and upstanding citizen who’d purchased the rundown estate on the hill. The police chief suspected Jameson had political aspirations from the contributions he’d made to the town library and the new elementary playground, but Lafflin couldn’t hold that against the man.
Ayden wasn’t sure he believed the story. Not after the way Lafflin had tripped all over himself in the end to make Jameson happy and cut Deirdre loose. It bothered him more than he wanted to acknowledge when Deirdre walked out of the interrogation room huddled against Jameson. He had no idea where the woman was now.
It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.
He floored the pedal of the Saab, racing through the darkness, trying to outrun the prickly unease that had settled itself on the back of his neck.
The autumn night had turned cold, and the thin sports jacket did nothing to keep the chill from penetrating straight to Ayden’s bones as he ran through the house lots back to his condo. The timer had tripped the lights as usual and Ayden hoped whoever was watching believed he’d been tucked in since late this afternoon when he’d parked the Jag out front. Slipping through the glass slider, he headed straight for the fridge and a cold drink. He flipped a couple of CDs in the stereo just as the knock came at the front door.
He sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to make small talk with Ryan and Dave. Maybe he’d be able to beg off their Monday night football routine. He wanted time to figure out the events of the afternoon and reassess the players and their relationships.
“Hey, guys…” The rest of the words stuck in his throat as he swung the door wide. “Deirdre? What the—”
“Austin, I’m sorry to bother you, I didn’t know where else to go.” She shuffled her weight between her feet, rubbing her hands up her bare arms. “Can I come in?”
“Jeez, yeah, of course.” Ayden stepped aside.
He did a quick scan of the lot. Was he being set up? Deirdre’s sudden appearance at his condo seemed to suggest it. Red warning flags had been popping up all day and now this. Ayden needed to stay alert.
Deirdre dragged over the threshold looking very much like some kind of decoy. He said a silent prayer that his night with her hadn’t blown his cover. If it had, he’d lost his career. In the DEA, two strikes didn’t mean you were out and able to come up to bat again, it meant permanent ejection. Game over.
Shoving aside the pang of sympathy, Ayden shut off his heart with the snick of the latch. Regardless of how pitiful Deirdre looked in her wilted T-shirt and drooping ponytail, this woman would not get to him a second time. But his resolve melted the moment her stoic expression crumbled before him.
“I don’t…know…what to do…I didn’t…know where…they took my truck…’ Deirdre’s words came out on hiccupping sobs. The tears she’d held at bay all afternoon ran in rivulets down her cheeks.
Gathering her in his arms, Ayden held her a moment, then led her to the couch. She buried her head on his chest, her fist latching onto his shirt, and she crie
d, hard, wracking sobs that shook her whole body. She continued to mutter incoherently, gripping him as if he were the only thing keeping her from drowning.
“Shh, it’s okay, Deirdre. You’re safe with me.” But Ayden wondered how true that was.
* * * *
She hadn’t known where else to go. The police had confiscated her truck. She wouldn’t get it back until tomorrow, perhaps the next day. Something about processing it for evidence.
Deirdre hadn’t asked how Shawn had known she’d been arrested or why he’d thought to call his lawyer. But she’d been unbelievably grateful when they’d shown up at the police station. Shawn’s lawyer struck some kind of a deal with the Cutler police about the heroin possession. There was a fine or something, but she hadn’t been able to wrap her head around any of it. So nothing was clear. Tomorrow, when her brain wasn’t so muddled with the fog of disbelief, she’d figure all of this out. Until then, she needed a place to gather herself together until she found the strength to call Emilio or Rachel for a ride back home.
Why she’d sought out Austin after the way she’d treated him was still a mystery. Nothing was making sense. Shawn had offered to take her home to his place, but that had been out of the question. Despite how much she appreciated what he’d done, Deirdre wasn’t willing to chance that he wouldn’t expect something for services rendered.
As fast as Jameson’s lawyer had gotten her out if the interrogation room, it had taken nearly an hour for the Cutler police to process her. She’d second-guessed her decision not to go with Jameson countless times while the wheels of justice rolled at a snail’s pace. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that Jameson hadn’t somehow managed to throw a wrench into her release.
Unwilling to wait for a ride at the police station, Deirdre had walked out the front door, called the only cab in town on her cell phone and come straight to the condo.
Now Austin stood in his kitchen, fixing her dinner and offering her help she didn’t deserve.
“Deirdre, here, drink this while I finish up the spaghetti. You’re still shaking.” Austin leaned over the bar and handed her the glass of scotch he’d just poured.
She attempted to smile, but her mouth, like every other muscle in her body, only trembled. Deirdre sat on the stool at the bar of the kitchen, sipping the scotch, hoping the liquid warming its way to her belly would take away the cold fear and confusion. Despite the heavy wool sweater Austin had pulled over her head, Deirdre was chilled straight to her core. She knew it had nothing to do with the night air.
“What did Mark have to say when you called him?” Austin asked. He stood at the stove absently sipping his drink and occasionally stirring the two pots.
“He thought it could’ve been one of the kids as well. It’s the only thing that makes any sense in this whole mess. I dump the refuse from my jobs at the school, and they use it as mulch on their farm project. Most of the time I leave the one-ton right there on school grounds.”
Deirdre shrugged before continuing. “They could’ve planned to pick up the drugs tonight while the truck was parked. Everyone knows I don’t bother to lock the equipment. There’s never been a reason.” She sipped absently at the scotch.
“With all the places that truck’s been and the number of people having access to it, it was no wonder Jameson’s lawyer kept them from arresting you. Anyone could get you off with the holes in that evidence. So what, the drugs were in your truck. There’s no way to prove they were yours.” Austin shrugged.
“At the moment my guilt or innocence doesn’t matter. Mark’s pulled the kids from the job. They won’t be going back to the Jameson estate. He’s figuring, with the arrest, we’ll likely lose the job anyway. I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he’s probably right.” Deirdre thought about all the things she’d intended to do with the extra money. She knew better than to make plans. It only caused heartache.
Deirdre looked at Austin. “It’ll be for the best,” she said. “But it makes me feel like shit. I suppose I should call Shawn before I go traipsing up there tomorrow.” Tipping her head back, Deirdre downed the scotch. She knew it wasn’t the answer, but the numbing wash of alcohol would be a welcome relief from the overwhelming sense of doom beginning to envelope her.
“And to top it off, I’m bringing all this here to you.” Heat crawled up her cheeks. “After the way I treated you Saturday, I’m surprised you didn’t slam the door in my face.”
He turned to look at her, leaning against the counter. “Not in my nature to turn away a woman in need.”
“Even after she treats you like crap?”
“I’m a grown man, Deirdre. I knew the score that night when I brought you here.”
“But leaving the way I did was cowardly.” She toyed with the glass. “Would you believe me if I told you if I could do it all over again I’d do things differently?”
He smiled, that crooked half lift of his mouth that made her want to kiss him. “You know what they say about hindsight.”
She laughed, a watery sound that seemed to break the tension. “Yeah, if I had any of it, I would have left with Rachel and Mark this afternoon.” Fear squeezed her throat and burned her eyes once again. “How the hell did this happen?”
“When would anyone have had time to hide the drugs in the truck?” he asked, turning back to stir the contents of the pans.
A tiny spark of hope flared. Deirdre had the feeling he had doubted every word that had come out of her mouth. But his question meant he’d been thinking along the same lines she had. “Rachel had it over the weekend to haul some yard waste. No way in hell she’s into heroin. And other than that, it’s been at the school or with me at Jameson’s.” Shaking her head, Deirdre slammed her palm on the bar. “Heroin, for chrissake! Pot. Alcohol. That I get. But high school kids can’t be doing these hardcore drugs, can they?”
“Seems to be the newest addiction up and down the coast.”
“Well, let’s hope it’s not from one of the kids. Either way, Mark’s not going to inform the Delmont authorities just yet. Hopefully, no one will find out about the arrest for a couple of days. Tomorrow, he and a cop buddy will question all the kids, try to figure out if any of them might be involved.” Deirdre scrubbed her hands over her face.
She sat in silence watching Austin strain spaghetti and spoon it onto two plates. He ladled the heated sauce from the jar over the pasta. Nothing fancy, but her stomach grumbled. It felt like she hadn’t eaten in days. She was suddenly ravenous.
“How’d Jameson find out about your arrest?” Austin asked quietly and set the two plates on the bar before settling on the stool next to hers.
“Thanks. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” Deirdre twirled some spaghetti onto her fork. “I’ve been wondering that myself. But I have to say, once Shawn was there with his lawyer, the police were tripping all over themselves to get us all out of there.”
“And Jameson just left you there?” He studied her. “I guess I was wondering why you came here?’
Tilting her head, her brows scrunched at the odd direction of his questions. “Austin, I hardly know the man. The truth is, I never met him before Saturday, and that was only by luck. I started talking to him about the property and landscaping, and the next thing I knew, he offered me a shitload of money to do his fall cleanup. As happy as I was to have someone get me out of there, I don’t know Shawn. I wasn’t going anywhere with him.”
They stared at each other, both trying to figure out what had really happened earlier in the afternoon at the police station and where each of them fit in the complicated puzzle.
“So how’d you end up at his party?” Ayden didn’t want to sound anxious, but everything Deirdre told him seemed plausible and —God help him—he was beginning to believe her story.
“A friend of a friend sort of thing. Rach, the woman I was working with today, thought I needed to stop pining over my ex. Our friend Emilio agreed, and he extended the invitation. But how the hell he knows Shawn is beyond me. Anyway, the
party led to the job, which got me arrested and…” Deirdre’s fork clattered on her plate as the tears started all over again. “What the hell have I gotten myself into, Austin?”
“Deirdre, don’t.” Ayden turned on the stool, pulling Deirdre into his arms. Her sadness ripped at his heart. He wanted so badly to believe her. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.” He lifted her chin, only intending to wipe away the tears, but her satin skin invited more. He kissed the salty drops, and his lips found their way to her luscious mouth.
Ayden’s fingers dug into her hair, slipping the band free and releasing the silken tresses to tumble over his forearms. Stop now, Ayden, ol’ boy. His body didn’t listen, and he changed the angle and deepened the kiss, tasting the bite of the scotch mixed with the tangy sauce. He nipped at her earlobe, Deirdre’s breath feathering over his cheek and its warmth set his blood boiling. He wanted her. It was a bad idea to bed this woman, but he couldn’t seem to keep her at arm’s length.
Then their hands were everywhere at once. Buttons popped as she pulled at his shirt. They pinged on the counter and dropped to the floor. He pulled the sweater over her head with the flimsy tank and filled his hands with her heavy tits. Her nipples pinched into tight little points beneath the no-nonsense sports bra.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Deirdre gasped the words out. “But damn, Austin, I want you. All of you. Just like the other night. I can’t get enough of you.” She fumbled with his belt. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
This was such a bad idea, but his body was already committed. His dick pressed painfully against his zipper. “No, we hardly know each other. We should stop now.” He stood and cradled her in his arms. Her long legs wrapped around his waist, her ass pressed pleasantly against him.