Gravedigger (The Rayburn Mysteries Book 1)

by Ceeree Fields

  Now they assaulted his nose with their sickly-sweet odor, mocking him and what he might never have again. Who was he kidding? If he hadn’t pushed, they would be in his bed right now. If he trusted in her abilities, he’d be building another memory . . . solidifying his place in her life.

  Tossing the tailor-made gray blazer on the counter, he yanked the icy blue tie, the perfect shade of Jo’s eyes, from around his neck. Rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down, he made his way to the closet off the kitchen. The cleaning supplies for the downstairs were neatly lined up on each shelf with the broom, mop, and dustpan hanging from hooks on the wall. Gathering the broom and dustpan, he snagged a serving tray and began to clean up the blood red petals and bowls.

  Dammit! He shouldn’t have argued about that case with her. Should have swallowed his concern and enjoyed their first Valentine’s together. Especially after Sam pulled him aside during the last pool tournament and filled him in on the only other Valentine’s experience Jo had.

  Paul, or maybe the guy’s name was Peter, Rhys couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered since that idiot had cheated on Jo and was no longer in the picture. At least he knew that would never happen with him, she was too important.

  The thought of something happening to her sent panic ripping through him. Throwing the last of the petals into the garbage, he returned to the kitchen and began systematically emptying the bowls and adding the candles to the sack.

  Was it not enough he’d lost his parents? Lost the little brother he’d known years ago. Lost his fiancée. Now, he loved a woman who could be killed in a second.

  He froze. The bowl he’d lifted to empty was suspended in midair between the sink and the tray. Cold water sloshed over the sides of it as his hand shook, splashing the liquid onto his pants and yanking him back to the present. He loved her. When did that happen?

  It dawned on him that if he truly loved Jo . . . wanted her to be happy, then he never should have asked her to give up her work. He knew how that felt. Though he chose to give up his dream to take care of his brother, making her choose would be selfish and cowardly. He’d never been a coward. No one knew what the future held. She could be hit by a bus crossing the street. If she quit being a cop, that would be her decision and shouldn’t be made just because Rhys asked her to quit.

  He dropped the bowl on the counter and raced to his jacket. Quickly wiping his damp hands over his pants, he fumbled his cell from the breast pocket.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jo had yanked her coat off as soon as she’d stepped into the apartment, letting it fall to the ground. Dammit. Anger rolled inside her like bursts of firecrackers beneath her skin. She wanted to rage. The first Valentine’s Day she’d actually had someone special and the whole night turned into a disaster.

  To make matters worse, another steak dinner was ruined . . . again.

  Pulling off her black slacks and navy sweater, she growled at the lingerie. The silky, blood-red camisole and matching thong came off with a few rips. At the sight of the shredded fabric, her anger left her, replaced by a bone-deep sadness.

  Paul had been the only other guy Jo had been together with on Valentine’s. By the time she clocked out and met up with Paul, he’d been passed out at his house with a naked woman snuggled to his side on the floor. Both reeking of alcohol and pot.

  She had to admit that night was much better than this one. At least she’d not been emotionally attached to Paul. He’d just been a fling for a few weeks.

  Leaving the clothes where they fell, she crawled into bed. Schizo jumped onto the mattress and curled up on his pillow next to her.

  “You don’t care that I’m a cop, do you?” She scratched the calico under his chin and received a rumbling purr for her efforts.

  Maybe Rhys would call her tomorrow and they could work everything out. Or he’d write her off like so many others . . . Too much trouble. High maintenance. Always distracted by a case. Couldn’t cook. The list was as long as Jo’s arm.

  Trying to shake off the depressing thoughts, she’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep when her phone pierced the silent apartment.

  Stumbling from the bed, she tripped over her discarded clothes. One knee connected with the carpeted floor and the other landed on her purse. Praying she hadn’t broken her phone, she dug it out of the handbag.

  “‘Llo.” Jo’s voice rasped, her throat raw from the tears she’d wanted to shed.

  A soft sigh drifted to her. “I’m sorry we fought. That was not at all what I had planned tonight.”

  Jo’s gaze drifted to the shredded lingerie and she clutched the phone tighter in her hand. “Me neither.”

  “I’m not going to say I won’t worry about you, because we both know I will. But I need to have faith that you’ll come home to me.” Another sigh. “I also need you to give me a swift kick if I become overprotective.”

  The tension winding through every piece of her body released. Rhys had called her . . . and was apologizing—willingly. Maybe she’d found the one man that understood her. Maybe the only one to want her flaws and all.

  Crawling back into the bed, she answered, “I can do that.”

  Green sheets buttery soft against her body gave her an idea. She lowered her voice hoping she sounded sultry and not as if she were coming down with a cold. “What’re you wearing?”

  This would be another first, but her cousins all talked about how hot phone sex was. Even Terry got sexy with Sam on the cellphone when she was on long stakeouts and explained to Jo how it kept the home fires burning. Not that she ever needed to know that about her two friends.

  “Nothing but my boxers, why . . . what’ve you got in mind?” His voice deepened, roughened with desire. The quiet squeak of his bed as he shifted helped Jo set the scene in her mind.

  Of any of the men she’d dated, she trusted Rhys the most and knew he wouldn’t make fun of her if she got this wrong. It freed her, gave her confidence to do all the things she’d never had the guts to do before. Jo’s teeth dug into her bottom lip, gnawing the flesh for a few seconds.

  She knew just what she wanted. The fantasy she’d not been able to live out yet. “What I’m picturing is you sprawled on your back, nothing on. I walk in wearing a sexy red camisole and matching thong.”

  His sharp inhale made her smile. She’d definitely need to replace that shredded lingerie.

  “What? You think I didn’t pay attention to your dilated eyes and quiet gasp when you saw it in that lingerie catalog I was looking at? You should know I don’t miss much, I’m a detective.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice was hoarse.

  “Pull your boxers down. I want you to touch yourself.” Jo’s fingers trailed over her body, not stopping at any one place.

  “Jesus, Jo.”

  She loved making him lose control, his quiet pants, and deep moans when she found a particularly sensitive spot. His groans when she rode him. All were uninhibited music to her, almost an instruction manual of how to make him lose that well-mannered veneer he kept as a shield between himself and everyone else.

  When he finally did lose the fight, he’d flip her and take her. Marking her as his. Just the memory of those marks made her body pulse with heat. “I never got to explore you the way I wanted. You, however, used your mouth on every part of me. And I think turnabout’s fair play.”

  Jo could picture him quivering under her, spread across his king-sized bed with his head thrown back as he surrendered. Most men were unwilling to allow her control, but he never balked. It was a heady feeling. With him she loved being consumed by him, to consume him in turn. “I can’t wait to taste you. Trail my tongue over the dips and curves of your chest . . .” She moaned at the thought. “Lick down your dick and back up.”

  She’d never wanted to do that with another man. They’d never smelled right, mo
re like beer and sweat. Rhys smelled of clean sweat and man without the cloying scent of alcohol. “Then I’d take a sip of ice cold water, then suck the head of your cock in my mouth.”

  “Christ, Jo. Where the hell did you learn to say this stuff?” The quiet slap of flesh alerted Jo that he was jerking off. His gravelly voice told her how close he was, and the squeak of the bed spoke of how deep into the fantasy she’d pulled him.

  Heat wove through her. She wondered if he would be willing to do this again when she was with him. She craved to watch him masturbate and learn how he liked to be touched. Then turn all that knowledge to pleasuring him.

  Jo’s fingers fumbled in her drawer and she pulled her favorite toy out. Then she shook her head and put the toy back. This was for him. She wanted to do something only for him after he’d done so much for her.

  Closing the nightstand, she focused fully on her man.

  “Romance books rock, babe. But just imagine how hot my mouth will feel compared to the ice. Just as your about to come, I’m going to climb on and ride you so good—”

  His low growl followed by an imperceptible shout told her he had reached his peak.

  “Fucking hell.” He panted out between breaths.

  His raw language let Jo know she shredded his vaulted control, ripped him open, and was hearing the real Rhys.

  “I rock at phone sex, huh?”

  “Yeah, hon.” His voice was breathless. “Did you come?”

  Jo’s body was filled with heavy, languid heat, not uncomfortable. Almost as if it were holding onto a promise. “No, I’d much rather come when I have you in the bed with me.”

  It wasn’t that she couldn’t, the toys in her nightstand spoke to that. But she’d wanted to savor the moment, remember the catches in his breath. Revel in her ability in making him lose control. Indulge her first time having phone sex. Cherish their first Valentine’s Day anticipating the makeup sex to follow.

  “I’ll make sure to take care of you the next time I see you,” he growled, the promise clear in his tone. “Multiple times.”

  “That might be awkward in the autopsy room, but hey I’m willing to try to ignore Jim and Sullivan if you are,” Jo teased, a smile spilling across her lips.

  A soft chuckle her reward. “Maybe I should say when we have a bit of us time. I don’t think I’d like to share that side of you with anyone else.”

  Jealousy reared its head. “Me neither. If one of those female Assistant MEs saw you naked, I’d have to shoot them.”

  “Duly noted.”

  She snuggled under the covers. “As for me and you alone, I look forward to any time I can have with you.”

  “I care about you. I want you to know that before you head out tomorrow. Just make damned sure you come back to me in one piece.”

  She knew she loved him. The feeling dug into her heart and became crystal clear. But she refused to say it over the phone. The first time she expressed those words would be face-to-face. “I care about you too, and I’ll do my best not to get dinged.”

  “Okay, call me tomorrow when you get home. I don’t care how late it is, I need to know you’re safe.”

  “I will. Goodnight, Rhys.”

  “Night, hon.” Jo’s finger hovered for the longest time over ‘end’ before finally pressing the selection. As she drifted off to sleep, she briefly wondered why he hadn’t ended the call. But the question flitted away as she relived their phone call.

  Chapter 20

  Jo shoved her backpack into her chair, took her thermos out and went to refill it with coffee. Returning to her desk, she saw a small box wrapped in a silvery foil with shiny hearts stamped across it.

  “I’m not fucking cupid, and you need to tell your boyfriend that next time he needs me to make a delivery,” Sullivan stated with a scowl.

  Grinning, she placed her thermos back into her pack and picked up the box. “Awww, but Sullivan you make such a cute cupid. Maybe I should mention it to Ara—”

  “No.” He stabbed a finger at her. “Don’t even think about it, Jo.”

  “I wouldn’t. And he’s not my boyfriend . . .” She trailed off, because she didn’t know what title fit Rhys.

  “You’ve been dating now for what—four or five months and you’re not boyfriend/girlfriend?” Sullivan snorted. “Feed that line to someone else.”

  “He’s my man, boyfriend sounds high school’ish. Swear to God, Sullivan if you keep bringing this shit up I will buy makeup with matching nail polish and offer to help Arabelle give you a makeover.”

  “Hell, no!”

  “Exactly, not high school.” Jo tore into the paper and found a carefully folded note taped to the top of the box.

  Hey hon,

  Wasn’t sure when I’d get the opportunity to see you again with the case. After I screwed up our Valentine’s Day, I wasn’t able to give you this gift like I’d planned. I want to see you more than the few times between your stakeouts and investigations.

  Use this present whenever you can and want to. I attached it to something that’ll help light the way.

  Rhys

  She set the note down and opened the box. A key attached to a small flashlight. Grinning, she raked the box and foil into her garbage and pocketed the key. With the alarm code memorized, she tucked the small card into the back pocket of her jeans and met Sullivan’s knowing gaze.

  “Shut up, old man.”

  He flipped her off and followed up with a smile. “I’m glad to see it’s moved beyond fuck buddies into trading keys. About time you found someone twisted enough to keep you.”

  “Screw you, Sullivan. I know a lot of twisted people.” Dammit that didn’t come out the way she’d intended. “You know what, I’m not letting you get me down, because I have a key to my man’s house. Between the both of us, I’m getting laid tonight and you’ll be going home to your hand.”

  “Jesus, Jo you’ve been hanging out with cops too much, you’re becoming a little too blunt.” Sullivan smirked. “‘Sides, I don’t think I’ll be alone much longer.”

  Not cops, but she had been working out her frustration on the case in the boxing ring quite a bit lately. It was a well-known fact no one watched their mouths in the gym. Focusing on the last bit of what Sullivan said, she ignored the rest.

  “Oh, so you found your balls and finally asked out that teacher that caught your eye?” Her gaze darted to the clock on the far wall. Late, she motioned with her chin to the conference room. “Come on, Abe needs to update us, then we’re stopping for food before going to the cemetery.”

  “Swear you think of your stomach more than any woman I know.”

  Jo shrugged. It was true, but only because the hours they worked she never knew when she’d get a good meal next. She hated eating non-stop fast food. “Don’t hear you complaining.”

  “I’m not. Kind of thankful you’re never on a diet. As for that teacher. Yeah, I dropped Arabelle’s lunch off yesterday and caught her in the office.” A blush stained Sullivan’s cheeks. “We’re going out next week, so we need to make damned sure we catch this guy. Because then it’s just paperwork.”

  She let the ‘diet’ comment roll right off her. She never dieted, preferring to work out in the ring. “Will do. I’ll post an advert in the papers and online so the perp knows we’re in a time crunch.”

  A light smack on the back of her head made her laugh.

  “You’re such a smart ass.”

  “I sure am and Rhys loves it.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The door to Rhys’s bedroom creaked open softly. Turning, he placed his hand on the butt of the Sig hidden in the nightstand. His father had trained him that alarms failed, dogs could overcome their training or be drugged. To protect his home and family a man needed to have a backup plan.

  However,
as soon as the petite form filled the doorway, he released the gun, pushed the drawer of the nightstand closed and flipped the blankets back.

  “You used the key.” Happiness poured into him, he hadn’t screwed everything up if Jo was willing to come here.

  “Yeah, Sullivan said he wasn’t playing cupid anymore.” She peeled the various layers from her body. As many as she had, her undressing shouldn’t have been sexy, but he was captivated.

  The moonlight poured through the uncovered window and draped her in its glow as if she were in a spotlight. Alabaster skin was slowly exposed until she stood before him in only a pair of dark bikini panties. Not the racy blue silk and lace from before, but still enticing as these were her everyday clothes. He craved to see her things mixed with his in the walk-in closet and chest of drawers. A merging of his life with hers. The key was the first step. Jo using the key to come to him, that had been the second step. It took a lot of patience to lure a porcupine from its shell, but he’d found where Jo was concerned he had a wealth of patience. Especially with her as his reward.

  “I’ll get him a miniature bow and heart arrows for his birthday as a thank you,” he mumbled absently, too caught up in Jo to think about anything else.

  She laughed. The light sound aroused him. She shimmied out of her underwear, easily distracting him from the conversation. “That’d rock. We need to give it to him in front of Arabelle that way he can’t throw it away.”

  “Duly noted.” He patted the space next to him, needing her to hurry and join him. “Now, come over here.”

  Naked, she crawled into the bed. “Hello there, sailor, I’m ready for makeup sex.”