by Jo Davis
Sweat rolled down his temple, stinging his scarred cheek as he positioned himself beside the door, ear close to the frame.
“. . . had no idea you were going to be there. Chill, would you? I didn’t say two words to her!”
Shea. Tommy’s blood ran cold.
“I’ll chill when all of this is behind us,” Prescott said coldly. A pause, then, “You know, he wanted to get rid of you, but I asked him to leave you out of it. Wouldn’t that have been ironic, after all your hard work?”
The guy’s frightened squeak could be heard clearly. “What? What did I ever do to him? I don’t even know what he does with the money, or even his name, for Christ’s sake!”
“It’s just how men like him are made. I think he’s going to leave you alone, though.”
“My God.”
“Me? That could be a different story, Will.”
A few seconds of silence. “What do you mean?” Will sounded scared, uncertain. “I’ve done everything you told me to, made sure no two accidents were the same. Nobody can trace them back to any one—”
“You wouldn’t do everything. I had to hire outside for the last job, he fucked up, and now we’ll have a fucking body soon as they finish sifting through the remains of the warehouse.”
Tommy’s mind whirled. Body? In the warehouse? The same one I was buried underneath?
“Tough shit. I won’t be a party to cold-blooded murder. No amount is worth that.”
“Not even to save your queer ass from AIDS?”
“I have HIV, not AIDS! And no, I won’t kill, not even to pay for my meds. I’m through caving to your threats.”
Blackmail. Oh, my God, he’s blackmailing this Will guy.
To arrange . . . accidents. To destroy those buildings?
“We all have to choose our battles. I’m not keen on murder, either. But if it comes down to me and someone else? I’ll pick me, every time.”
“Nice, Forrest. You’re a real peach.”
“You’re enjoying the payouts same as me, old friend. Don’t forget that.”
“How could I?” Will’s voice was bitter. “You never let me.”
This conversation sounded nearly over. He had to get the hell gone before they came out, and the hallway he’d come down seemed way too long, with no hiding places.
The doorknob turned, and his mouth went dry.
Shit!
Tommy took off, heart in his throat. Praying he didn’t get caught listening by a man who, by his own admission, would commit murder.
He rounded the corner as the door opened behind him, and nearly flattened a night security guard.
“Sorry! Gotta run!”
“Hey, come back here! Stop!”
Not a chance, buddy.
He flew right out the front doors, which weren’t locked from the inside, fumbled his keys with his good hand, hit the unlock button, jumped in, and fired the baby up.
He was a mile down the road before his breathing started to even out, but then the reality of what he’d overheard set in. Followed by fear. The guard would surely tell Prescott and his companion about a man running away from the direction of his office. If he got a very good description of Tommy . . .
“Fuck me.”
Think. What to do. Who to tell.
What did he have, really? Hearsay. Compelling hearsay, but not proof. No real details. Most of the gaps, he’d filled in on his own, the conclusions he’d drawn himself, which the police couldn’t use.
He should tell someone, though. Get it on record.
And Shea.
“Oh, God.” She’d befriended this crazy fucker. Believed him to be an upstanding guy, had spent time alone with him.
With a man who was okay with murder.
And blackmail.
And fraud.
The memory of the kiss Prescott had stolen from her sickened him. Made him want to smash his fist down the bastard’s throat. What did Prescott really want from her? Was she to be a trophy of some sort? No, Shea wasn’t the type to be happy hanging out with blue-blooded society wives. Prescott wanted something else, and he would find out what.
It was getting late. What was he going to do?
Shea was alone. What if Prescott found out Tommy had been by his office tonight and decided to get to her first?
“No.” The word came out feral, deadly.
No man was going to take what was his. Especially not a man like Prescott. He’d been a complete idiot to throw away the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He had one stop to make to throw some clothes in his gym bag, then had some serious making up to do with the woman he loved.
He just prayed she’d give him another chance.
Joseph was in hell. For two weeks, the agony of indecision weighed on him as he waited for a confession from his grandson that never came. A plea he would’ve gladly answered.
Will was never going to tell his grandpa what he’d done. The boy was in way too deep, probably felt he had no recourse.
But there always was. Any good soldier knew that.
Joseph picked up the phone, and with trembling fingers, punched a number he hadn’t needed to use for a very long time.
“Federal Bureau of Investigations, Special Agent Dominic Westfall speaking.”
“Got time to talk to an old codger?”
“I . . . Joseph? Joseph Hensley?” The man sounded incredulous.
“For a while longer, I suppose.”
“Damn, I can’t believe it! How are you?”
“I’ve been better, boy. You?”
“Making it. One day at a time,” he said quietly. “What can I do for you, Joseph?”
He took a steadying breath, and bit the bullet. “Nicky, I need your help.”
Shea twirled her third glass of wine, watching the amber liquid go round and round. “What do you think?” she asked Miss Kitty. “Should I just kill the whole bottle?”
“Meoooow.” The big feline kneaded Shea’s tummy, turned around, and curled up in a comfortable spot on her lap.
“Well, I’ll take that as a yes. In fact, I think I’ll just call in sick. Like, for a year.”
A knock on her door sent the cat flying under the sofa, and startled her, too. A glance at the clock had her concerned. Eleven at night? Only bad visits happened this late and she immediately thought of her brother.
She lived in fear of an officer coming to tell her Shane had been shot. Or worse.
She plunked down her wine, sloshing some, and hurried to the door. Cautious, she looked out the peephole—and gasped, her heart stuttering. There, in the porch light, stood Tommy.
Without hesitating, she unlocked the door and yanked it open. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“Why? So you can stomp on me some more? You didn’t get to kick me on my way out the last time, so you’re here to do it in person?”
Wow. She supposed she had a little anger stored along with the hurt. His expression gave her pause, though. His pale blue eyes were bruised. Haunted. He didn’t look good, and his scars had nothing to do with it.
“Please, Shea,” he said hoarsely. “Hear me out.”
She stepped aside and let him in, trailed him into the living room. “You’ve lost weight. You’re not taking care of yourself.”
He faced her squarely, wrapped hand hanging at his side. “I am now. I had some stuff to work through in my head.”
“And have you?” She crossed her arms over her chest, afraid to hope.
“I have. First of all, I want to apologize for not listening to you in the hospital. You shared a very painful, traumatic experience with me, placed your trust in me, and I didn’t listen. You were trying to tell me it’s okay to grieve for our losses, but that we get through them. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself, my losses, and I pushed you away.”
Do not cry. “You did. You made me fall in love with you and then you tossed that love back in my face. When the going got tough, you checked ou
t.”
At that moment, the ocean between them had never been so vast and empty. She ached with the need to touch him.
“You’ll never know how sorry I am.”
“What do you want from me?” She wasn’t about to make this easy. Say it.
“I thought my injuries, losing my looks and the use of my hand, made me not whole anymore, not a man. Not good enough for you. What I didn’t know . . .” His voice broke and his breath hitched. “What I didn’t understand was that I was whole until I lost you.”
Her hand went over her mouth and tears streamed down her cheeks.
He took a step toward her. “Baby, forgive me. Please.”
With a sob, she launched herself into his arms and was crushed against his chest. His good hand buried itself in her hair and kisses rained on top of her head. Then he pulled back slightly and claimed her mouth like a starving man.
They clung to each other, tasted and explored. Reaffirmed their love, their connection. Couldn’t get enough.
“I need skin,” she whispered into his mouth.
“God, yes. Missed you so much.”
He chuckled as she tore off his clothes, and it hit her how she’d missed his laugh. His smile. His presence in her soul. She yanked off his shorts and underwear and peeled off his shirt. “Sit on the sofa,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am! Damn, I could get used to this side of you.” His eyes glittered as he sat, watched her strip.
“Wait for it. Gets better.”
Naked, she pushed his knees apart and crouched on the floor between them. She loved this, him spread for her, waiting to find out what she’d do next.
His cock filled rapidly, happy to get into the action. It curved toward his stomach, flushed, rising from golden curls. Heavy balls nestled underneath, too tempting to resist.
Lifting them with gentle fingers, she sucked each one, enjoying his earthy male flavor. She wanted to drive him out of his mind, make him beg for her.
“Oh, baby, please.” His head fell against the back of the sofa.
That was a good start. She licked and teased each orb, manipulating them, grazing them with her teeth. This drove him mindless, his hips bucking, and so she moved on, running her tongue up the underside of his cock. His groan of pleasure was like music.
Next, she feasted on the plump cap, licking the little drops of precum away. Salty and sweet. Hers. She took him into her mouth, sucking him with increasing pressure, making sure he knew who was in charge this time around.
“Ahh, shit! You’re gonna make me go!”
She released him with a pop. “No, you don’t.”
“I can’t hold out much longer.”
Straddling his lap, she positioned the head of his cock at her opening. “You’ll wait until you’re inside me. I want it hard and fast, understand?”
His pupils were blown, and he was almost incoherent with excitement. “C-condom. In my bag on your porch.”
Intent, she gazed directly into his eyes. “Not this time.” “Jesus,” he whispered, voice thick with desire. “Are you sure?”
“Very. Do me, gorgeous. I want to feel it tomorrow.”
She sank onto him and they groaned together, lost in the exquisite feeling of being joined again. Only skin, sliding, sparking the inferno out of control.
As he began to thrust into her, she wound her arms around his neck, hanging on for the ride. He gripped her hip with his left hand, fingers digging into her flesh. They slapped together in noisy rhythm, their coupling feverish in their need to reconnect.
“Shea, baby! Yes, oh . . .”
Her orgasm ripped through her body, taking her by surprise. She cried out, felt herself convulsing around him as he drove into her. One more thrust and he held deep, pumping hot cum, filling her to overflowing. He was so beautiful, expression lost in pleasure, looking at her with such love.
“You turned me inside out,” he rasped. “God, that was amazing.”
“Had to show you what you’ve been missing.”
Immediately, he was contrite. “I’m so sorry. Believe me, it’ll never happen again.”
“It better not.” Gingerly, she ran a finger along the edge of his scar, following the red line from his temple down his cheek to his throat. What might’ve happened, had the metal sliced a fraction of an inch deeper and hit his jugular, made her shiver.
He misread her reaction and looked away. “It’s ugly. I can’t improve it without plastic surgery and even then—”
“You misunderstand. I’m touching it because it’s a part of you, and I love all of you.” To emphasize her point, she leaned in, kissed the scar at his temple, his cheek. “I shuddered because I realize it’s a miracle you weren’t killed.”
“It really doesn’t bother you?”
The hope in his voice shredded her. “No. I hate that it bothers you, but in time it will fade.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”
“You might not. Just don’t let it define your life.”
“Kind of hard not to, when it’s almost a perfect dividing line between my old life and my new.”
He had a point. “True. Perhaps you’ll come to see it as one of those hard-won blessings in disguise—you went through a bad period, and something better was waiting on the other side.”
He gave her a genuine smile. “You sound like Dad.”
“Smart man.” As bad as she hated to move, she climbed off his lap. “Want to get cleaned up? Race you to the shower.”
“On your mark . . .”
They enjoyed a hot shower, giggling like kids while getting each other soapy and fooling around. A fondle here, a playful pinch there. The water ran cold and they finally got out and dried off, happy, if a little tired.
Tommy, towel wrapped around his hips, quickly retrieved his gym bag from her front porch and returned, donning a pair of clean boxer briefs. Shea put on a pair of panties and a big T-shirt, and they snuggled in her bed, her head on his chest.
Wouldn’t you know, the interlude was too peaceful to last.
“Baby, I need to talk to you about something,” he said, squeezing her.
“Hmm?”
“I saw you at the diner tonight.”
“I saw you, too. Thought you might come over, but I guess I can understand why you didn’t.” Looking back, she couldn’t imagine how seeing her with Forrest must’ve hurt him. But he had pushed her away, so the next move was his to make.
“I should have. That’s not what I need to talk about, though.” He paused. “The guy in the red ball cap who stopped at your table. Did Prescott introduce him?”
“Briefly. Said his name was Will Hensley and he worked for the city as a building inspector.”
Tommy tensed underneath her. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“What can’t?”
“I’d seen him before. The first time was right before I passed out, after the scaffold collapse. The second was after the gas explosion at the vacant residence. Both times he was among the gawkers across the street.”
Shea digested this. “The coincidence is strange, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Since he works for the city, especially in inspection, he’s around town.”
“Normally I’d agree. You didn’t see the vibes going on between those two when you weren’t looking, though. Prescott was royally pissed to see him there. Even made a gesture at him to get lost. It got me thinking, and I did something I shouldn’t have, even though I’m glad I did.”
Rising, she propped herself on his chest and looked him in the eye. “Which was?”
“I followed Forrest tonight to see what he was up to. Everywhere he went.”
When the full meaning hit, she gaped at him. “You spied on me? Here?”
“Not on you,” he assured her quickly. “On Forrest. I left here when he did and tailed him.”
“I—I’m not sure what to think about that, Tommy. Why are you ‘glad’ you followed him?”
“Becaus
e Prescott ended up at the city hall in a meeting with Will Hensley, in Prescott’s office, at ten in the evening with nobody there but the guard. Your would-be boyfriend was raking Hensley over the coals for speaking to him at the diner in front of you.”
“Wait a minute. You sneaked inside the city offices? After dark?”
“They left the side door unlocked, so yeah, I took advantage,” he said, starting to appear upset. “Shea, those two are buried up to their necks in all sorts of bad shit. Blackmail, fraud, murder—”
“Whoa. Slow down and explain. Those are some hefty words you’re slinging around. I have a hard time picturing Forrest involved in anything illegal.”
He aimed a scowl at her. “Plenty of bright and shiny things are poisonous under the surface, like nightshade berries. I know what I heard.”
“Sorry,” she said, stroking his chest. “Go ahead.”
“Like I said, Prescott wasn’t thrilled about seeing Will at the diner. He mentioned that some third party—a guy—wanted Will dead, but apparently Prescott convinced him not to follow through.”
“Dead? My Lord . . .”
“Yep. They were talking about money and payouts and—look, the fire at the warehouse was arson, according to the investigator I spoke with. Prescott and Hensley talked about the warehouse job and how Hensley wouldn’t do what Prescott wanted, but some other man did and now he’s dead underneath all the rubble. And, Shea . . . I think I’m the job they were talking about.”
“What! How?” She stared at him, trying to process everything he was saying.
“I was hit on the head. Twice. And that was before the roof fell. I never saw what hit me.”
“Did you hear any movement behind you?”
“No, nothing. But with the noise, how could I? Anyway, Prescott made it clear he’s blackmailing Hensley to arrange these ‘accidents,’ and in return, nobody finds out Hensley is HIV positive, and he has the money to buy his medicine.”
Shea was stunned. Forrest? Involved in criminal activity? She couldn’t believe it.
“Oh, my God. So why do you think you were the target in the warehouse? What would they have to gain?”
“Not they; Forrest. He gets me out of the way so I’m no longer competition to be with you.”