Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10

by Linda Winfree

  “I’ll give Del a call.” Dale turned and extended his hand in Rob’s direction. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Rob shook Dale’s hand and inclined his head toward Shelli.

  She attempted a smile. “Thank you.”

  Tick opened the door. “Bennett and I will walk out with you.”

  Outside, blinding sunlight bounced off fluffy white clouds that reached high into the sky. The heat lay over the parking lot, as oppressive and suffocating as the conference room had been. On the sidewalk, Rob watched the Jenkinses pull out of the lot and expelled a long, slow breath. “Does that ever get easier?”

  Tick made a small sound in his throat. “No.”

  Rob scuffed a hand over the tight muscles in his neck. “Just wondering.”

  Tick smiled, and he clapped a hand on Rob’s shoulder. “You did good, though, Bennett. Your daddy would have been proud. You’ll get this. You’ve already got most of it. A little more experience should knock off your rough edges. A few more cases, and you’ll come into your own.”

  *

  While the death of Zechariah Dale Jenkins Jr. has been ruled an accident by GBI medical examiner Sara Ford, evidence suggests Michael Dean Smithwick endeavored to conceal the death of Mr. Jenkins in an attempt to keep secret a same-sex relationship between Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Smithwick.

  Rob lifted his fingers from the keyboard and stared at the sentence. Maybe for now, he should simply bullet-list his victimology notes. The local evening news droned quietly from the squad room television, a young reporter stumbling over her description of the murder-suicide case Amy and her partner had spent the day working, one county over.

  “You look wasted.” Troy Lee set a cold bottled water next to the keyboard and twisted the cap off his own. He slumped into a boneless heap in the chair next to Rob’s desk.

  “I’m not the only one.” Lines of weariness and stress fanned out from Troy Lee’s blue eyes. After Rob’s meeting with the Jenkinses, the two had caught two investigative calls—a home invasion resulting in injuries to a young boy and an armed robbery of a neighborhood grocery store.

  “What are you working on now?” Troy Lee flicked a finger at the screen.

  “Victimology notes on Zeke Jenkins. The DA may want them when considering charges.” He glanced sideways as Walker, Wilson and Monroe dragged in. Monroe lifted the coffee carafe and grimaced at the hours-old thick brew. Wilson tossed a pack of crackers on the table and picked up the remote to change the television station. Shoulders drooping, Walker stopped at the soda machine, apparently scanning the options.

  Rob lowered his voice. “Calvert says he’s ninety-nine percent sure McMillian will drop the charges. I feel like we should have hit on the Zeke-Mike angle earlier, though. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck; however, you can’t simply assume it’s a duck. We assumed they were only friends instead of examining all the possibilities.”

  “Dude, you’re rambling.” Troy Lee stretched out his legs, a hint of irritation in his expression. “You need some sleep, and I need this day to be over.”

  “I hate shifts like this.” Walker dropped into the chair at the empty desk across from Rob. He’d initially caught the home-invasion call, and Rob had been impressed with the older man’s professionalism in controlling the chaotic scene. He was an asshole, but at least he was an asshole well trained in crime-scene protocol.

  Rob slanted a look at Troy Lee, eyebrow raised. Walker wanting to buddy around? That was a new one. Troy Lee rested a finger at his temple, below the neat row of stitches. “Yeah, they’re rough.”

  Silence descended, broken only by the crackle of Wilson opening his crackers and Monroe starting a new pot of coffee. The aroma of fresh brew wafted through the room.

  “That kid’s dad—he was broken about that boy being hurt. You know?” Voice subdued, Walker ran a fingertip around the edge of his soda can. “Makes me wish my kid wasn’t so far away. You got kids, Bennett?”

  “Not yet.”

  Troy Lee looked up, a shadow of his old grin appearing.

  The volume rose on the television, Susannah Hartley’s eager voice filling the room. “All right, folks, so here’s a twist on the Zeke Jenkins case out of Georgia. As you know, his body was found earlier this week—no final autopsy results have been released yet and the cops down there aren’t talking—but today we’ve learned his friend Michael Smithwick is the subject of an arrest warrant for concealing a death. That’s usually a precursor to a murder charge, friends.”

  “Turn that shit off.” Troy Lee and Rob laid down the command simultaneously.

  “The sheriff’s office, of course, is refusing comment, but it sure sounds like a love triangle gone wrong to me. How about you?” Hartley sighed and blinked big blue eyes dramatically. “There never was a tale of more woe than this of Juliet and her two Romeos, am I right?”

  “Seriously?” Troy Lee threw his empty water bottle at the television and missed.

  “Turn it off, Wilson.” Rob didn’t even try to temper the hostile growl. Wilson muttered, but flipped the channel back to the local news.

  “So, Bennett, it’s been a rough first week or so for you.” Walker’s voice held a note of forced heartiness blended with a hint of uncertainty. “You up for this place?”

  Rob met Troy Lee’s gaze once more. He shrugged. “I’ve got a lot to learn, still. Think I’ll hang around.”

  A smile touched Troy Lee’s still-tense face. On the desk, their cell phones buzzed, and both men reached for one.

  His gaze on the screen, Troy Lee’s smile widened. “Amy says she’ll be home in fifteen minutes.”

  Rob slid Troy Lee’s phone across the desk. “Angel wants you to pick up a gallon of milk and a jar of peanut butter on the way home.”

  “Shut that down and let’s get out of here.” Troy Lee gestured at the computer, then tapped his watch. “It’s time to go home.”

  *

  Darkness hovered over the neighborhood when Rob turned into their driveway, moments behind Amy’s BMW. He pulled to the side and climbed out. God bless America, he hurt all over, almost as badly as he had after spending hours in the water.

  The gift bag from 85 Broad dangling from his fingers, he rested his arms atop her car while she gathered her things. “You know, I had planned to take you out tonight.”

  “That’s sweet.” She smiled and hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “You can give me a rain check for a day when the case I’m working isn’t completely heartbreaking.”

  “Yeah.” He came around the car and took the bag, letting it hang with the gift bag. “I need a shower.”

  “Me too.” She wrapped her arm around his waist and flipped through her key ring for the house key. He draped his free arm over her shoulders. “I’ll wash your back if you wash my hair.”

  “Deal. But no shower sex.” He shuddered as she unlocked the door. “Not after the last time.”

  Her soft smile warmed him. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “Because you’re not the one who ended up in the ER trying to explain to your sister how you came to need stitches after falling in the shower.”

  Her gorgeous laugh filled the laundry room, and he laughed with her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. They needed this, needed the laughter and the physical contact after witnessing lives being destroyed today.

  She stroked her palm down his spine. “Come on. I’ll meet you in the shower.”

  Minutes later, hot water and her magic hands soaping and kneading the tight muscles in his back were well on their way to relaxing him. She rotated her thumbs into the knot at the base of his neck. “Did you go to therapy today?”

  “I did.” He braced an arm against the shower wall and rested his eyes against it. “We talked about friends and support systems.”

  With the handheld nozzle, she rinsed suds from his skin. “Vaughn says you were awesome managing the home-invasion scene.
”

  He smiled against the crook of his elbow. “She just couldn’t see how nervous I actually was.”

  “Not at all. She said you looked and sounded a lot like your dad.” She leaned into him, arms around his waist, and he felt her answering smile against his shoulder blade. “A total hard ass.”

  Laughter shook him. “She didn’t say that.”

  “She did. It was priceless.” Amy’s soft laugh vibrated along his skin. “Then she asked if I got a bonus for working with Madeline.”

  He turned and reached for the shower nozzle. She tilted her head back to let the water stream down her hair. He snagged her shampoo, and soon the mingled scents of coconut and hibiscus perfumed the steam around them. Enjoying the sweet intimacy of these private moments, he massaged the back of her skull. “You know you could ask Botine to assign you a different partner.”

  “No.” Her sigh of pleasure hummed through him. More of the day’s stress fell away. “She’s smart and experienced, and I’m learning a lot from working with her. But oh, my word, Robert, she’s difficult.”

  He chuckled and ran his fingers through her hair, letting the water wash away the suds. “And you’re strong enough to deal with her.”

  “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Honey, I know so.” He reached behind her to shut off the water. As he stepped from the shower, he grabbed a bath sheet and tugged her onto the bath mat with him. With gentle hands, he toweled the water from her hair and skin, and she swayed into him, arms about his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair, she pulled his mouth down to hers.

  He sank into the slow, easy kiss, the tip of her tongue dancing along his mouth before she nipped at his bottom lip. On a growling chuckle, he lifted her into him, and she wrapped her legs about his hips. He took advantage of the position to run his finger along the wet heat between her thighs.

  She laughed against his mouth. “Vanity.”

  “We’re fifteen feet from the bed.”

  Her teeth found his earlobe. “Yes, but if you take me on the vanity, I can watch while you do it.”

  “So that’s why I had to hang that heavy-ass mirror on the opposite wall.” Cradling her, he moved to the vanity. His arm ached, but he wanted this time with her more than he wanted relief.

  “That is exactly why you had to hang that mirror.” Her voice breathless, she pointed over his shoulder as he settled her on the vanity and stepped between her thighs. “Look.”

  He ran his hands up trembling thighs, letting his fingers linger and play over slick flesh until she strained against him. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the framed full-length mirror did indeed provide an excellent vantage point of the two of them, his naked ass framed by her knees and thighs.

  “Have I ever mentioned how much I love your naughty side?” He delved a pair of fingers into her, and she rewarded him with a sultry moan.

  “It’s been a while,” she murmured, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

  “Too long.” He dropped his head to suckle at the vulnerable curve of her neck, her skin damp and smooth and warm.

  “Maybe you should remind me.” Her impish whisper at his ear brought forth another chuckle, and he gripped her hips, pulling her into him as he joined their bodies. She gasped on his first thrust, scoring his shoulders again.

  Her breathless laughter bubbled up between them, her gaze trained on the mirror, and he braced on his good arm, brushing damp hair away from her face with his other hand. “What’s so funny?”

  “Not funny. Joyful.” She leaned back on her arms, the slight change in position intensifying the clasp of her body around his. Desire tightened her face, her gaze locked on his now, so he could see the love and joy in those brown eyes. “I didn’t realize how afraid I was that we’d never be like this again.”

  The loving went on, slow and easy and overflowing with desire, building until she shattered in his arms on a soft cry and he spilled deep within her. He wrapped himself around her, his face buried in her hair. “I love you so damn much, Amy.”

  “I love you too. Forever.” She sighed into his neck. “Three down, five to go. Six if we count the hallway.”

  Irresistible laughter rumbled from his throat. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “And you love it.” She pinched the left cheek of his ass. “Listen, I have serious plans for you and that dining room table.”

  “When my arm heals.” He kissed her and pulled back, before gently gathering her into his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and set her on her feet by the bed. “I have something for you.”

  “I thought you just gave it to me, quite well.” She pulled on her robe and perched on the edge of the bed. The robe slipped to reveal a bare shoulder.

  With a smile, he sat beside her and handed her the gift bag. “Open it.”

  She tore through the tissue paper in the bag with her usual enthusiasm over any gift. Brows drawn together in a quizzical frown, she held the emerald-green leather wallet aloft. “It’s a wallet.”

  He planted his hand on the bed and rested his weight on his good arm. “Look inside.”

  “Is it cash for shopping? Because technically that would be wood, which is the traditional gift for a fifth anniversary…” Her voice trailed away, and she stared at the half-empty pad of checks tucked inside, along with the register and a plastic rectangle, her lips slightly parted. “It’s our checkbook and debit card. You’re trusting me with the checking account.”

  Shit, he’d royally screwed up. He straightened. “You’re right, it’s cheesy. Listen—”

  “No. It’s perfect.” Wallet clutched to her chest, she dove for him and he caught her to him, her other arm wrapped around his neck. She pressed her mouth to his in a kiss so full of pure adoration it made his chest hurt.

  He blinked hard, eyes burning, and forced a chuckle past the lump in his throat. “I went for jewelry too, in case I needed backup, but if this is perfect…”

  “Uh, no. Jewelry is always good.” She leaned back, wiping tears from her lashes with a single finger. “Stop teasing, Rob.”

  “Look who’s talking.” He cupped her head and pulled her close. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and retrieved his slacks from the floor. With the little velvet pouch in hand, he shook the ring out in his palm. The diamonds, set in an ultrathin gold band, glimmered in the dim light. He took her left hand in his and slid the ring next to her engagement and wedding bands.

  “Oh.” Her voice was hushed and breathless. “It’s perfect too. Thank you, for both of them.”

  “Thank you.” He smoothed her bangs from her face and trailed his finger down to the corner of her mouth. “For not giving up on me.”

  She clung to his hand. “Never.”

  He smiled, his heart wanting to come out of his chest with joy. “So, beach condo this weekend?”

  His own joy was reflected in her sparkling eyes, plain for him to see. “Absolutely.”

  *

  Amy woke slowly, a delicious slide into awareness of fresh new sheets and a salt-laden breeze fluttering the gauzy curtains at the window. Rob’s clean, sporty scent clung to the pillow, and she pulled it closer, inhaling deeply. She blinked and opened her eyes. Early-morning sunlight filled the room, bouncing off the paint samples on the wall—various shades of teal and blue and gray. A flick of the curtain allowed her a glimpse of their new lounge chair, and between her legs, a distinctly feminine ache pulsed, a sensory memory of having him fill her over and over on that very chair.

  She smiled into his pillow, well-being saturating her entire body. Every day he was stronger than he’d ever been before, and she found herself in the wonderful position of falling more and more in love with him all over again.

  They were everything she’d never even realized she wanted.

  Downstairs, the sliding glass door squeaked in its tracks, and moments later, running footsteps sounded on the stairs. She rolled, anticipating her first glimpse of him today. He came through the door, winded and sweaty. Yep, run
ning on the beach.

  She smiled. “Good morning.”

  “Morning, babe.” He planted a hand on either side of her and leaned down to kiss her. A droplet of sweat splashed on her shoulder.

  She held his mouth to hers a moment, breathing in salt and sea and masculinity, then levered away with a rueful laugh. “Rob, you smell.”

  He rubbed his nose down her neck until his damp hair brushed her skin, and she squirmed. He laughed. “So come take a shower with me. Then I’ll take you to Shiner’s for breakfast to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?” He’d already taken her to dinner the night before for a belated anniversary celebration.

  “Life. You. Me.” He shrugged and punctuated the words with kisses. He smiled, green eyes lit with contentment, and touched his finger to the corner of her mouth. “Us.”

  About the Author

  How does an English teacher end up plotting murders? She uses her experiences as a cop’s wife to become a writer of romantic suspense! Linda Winfree lives in a quintessential small Georgia town with her husband and two children. By day, she teaches English/Language Arts and is an all-round education nerd; by night she pens sultry books full of murder and mayhem.

  To learn more about Linda and her books, visit www.lindawinfreewrites.com or connect with her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/lindawinfreewrites. You can also contact Linda via email at lindawinfreewrites@gmail.com.

  Look for these titles by Linda Winfree

  Now Available:

  What Mattered Most

  Hearts of the South

  Truth and Consequences

  His Ordinary Life

  Hold On to Me

  Anything But Mine

  Memories of Us

  Hearts Awakened

  Fall Into Me

  Facing It

  Uncovered

  Coming Soon:

  Hearts of the South

  All I Need

  Don’t miss the other titles in Linda Winfree’s Hearts of the South Series!

  When deceit and desire collide, the results can be deadly…

  Hearts of the South, Book 1

  For undercover FBI agent Jason Harding, coming face to face with the grown-up version of his adolescent dreams is a nightmare. Kathleen Palmer sees him as a despicably corrupt small-town law officer and a murder suspect. Trapped in a web of his own making, he must see his mission through to the end and bring down the crooked cops who’ve run Haynes County for decades. To do so, he must betray the only family he’s ever known and fight his growing love for Kathleen, a relationship that could get one, or both of them, killed.