If she hadn’t been such a rank novice at love, she would’ve figured it out sooner. But love had nothing to do with her marriage and high school had been too damn long ago. She’d been immature then anyway. Cecily wouldn’t even try to deny how she burned for Daniel’s touch or how hot he made her body but there was more. And had been since the first day when he asked her to sing. That moment resonated with intense feeling and everything since maintained the level of emotion. The way he cuddled her now said ‘love’, not ‘lust’. I could live without him but I don’t want to. I want him by my side, I like him. He makes me smile, he gets me to laugh, and his presence comforts me. If this isn’t love, then fuck me – I’ll never figure out what is.
“I know,” she said. “If tomorrow doesn’t go well for me, then you’re going to risk your job, aren’t you?”
Daniel shrugged, hands splayed wide. “Maybe but it doesn’t matter. In the long run, it’ll all work out.”
She didn’t want him to throw everything away for her sake. “It’s your career. You shouldn’t trash it for me.”
“I’m not,” he said, tone even as a knife edge. “I believe you, yes, but it’s also about what’s right. If my superiors can’t see that, they’re wrong.”
His integrity impressed her but she still said, “You’re still putting everything you’ve worked for on the line, for me and I appreciate it, more than I can say.”
“It’s my call,” he said with tenderness, his face softer than she’d ever seen it. “I’d do that and more for you.”
Cecily cupped his cheek with her hand. “I know you would. And, sugar, I’d do whatever I could for you, too.”
The vulnerable look vanished when he grinned. “Would you?”
“Yes.” Damn it, she’d do anything he asked.
“Then I’ve got something in mind.” His voice dropped lower to a near whisper but what it lacked it volume, it gained in power.
“Like what?” she said as her body heat increased. Her skin radiated heat or so it seemed.
His mouth moved closer, mere millimeters from her lips. “It starts something like this….”
Like a night flying insect drawn closer by light she leaned forward and their lips met. Cecily’s pulse quickened as his mouth caressed hers, his lips cherishing and relishing hers with slow heat. Daniel suckled her flesh with gentle motions, light as the brush of a rose petal but fiery as a cayenne pepper rubbed against her mouth. His breath against her parted lips evoked a sensual shiver running from her mouth down her spine with an electrical charge. Her body changed at his touch as her bones turned from stone into candy, pliable and soft. Lost in the moment, Cecily gave everything to the kiss and let her worries fade to black. They kissed for a long time, each movement, every sweet nibble providing pleasure.
Her fingers managed to undo the buttons on his shirt and stroke his chest. Daniel’s big hands held her face between them and his fingers strayed into her hair. In time he slid a hand up her blouse and fondled her breasts. With skill, he managed to undo her front clasp bra and free her tits. Her always sensitive nipples perked up at his first caress and he shifted position so he could move his mouth from hers down to the vale between her breasts. He kissed her there, soft and gentle at first, then with a little force. When she felt the sharpness of his teeth, she knew he’d leave a love bite.
Overwhelmed with a rush of desire blended with emotion Cecily cradled his head against her chest. In response he unleashed his tongue and used it to lick a heated line from between her breasts to one nipple. She whimpered in response and he pulled back. “Te deseo querida,” he whispered. “Let’s go to bed.”
They untangled and made their way there, pausing to kiss and to stroke. Along the way they shed most of their clothing. By the time Cecily stretched out on top of her neatly made bed, she wore nothing and neither did he. Daniel lowered his lean body onto hers and she bent her knees to make room for him. He slid into her smooth and easy, a gentle glide which delivered intense delight. His cock filled her space and expanded, each motion notching up her pleasure another degree. As she tightened the walls of her box to give back some of the wonder she experienced, he worked in and out with the precise movements of a sewing needle used with skill. Cecily matched his rhythms with hers and they moved, in unison like a shared melody, two bodies in counterpoint.
Need forced them toward release but she resisted, wanting to draw out the delight as long as she could. In response, Daniel increased his pace and stepped up his actions. The resulting contest of wills sent her into shivers and she retaliated with a few tricks of her own. When she hit her climax, he joined her and they came together in a crazy blending, a heated flood complete with noise. She cried out and so did he. Erotic spasms erupted over her body and she writhed with the impact until everything shuddered to a slow stop.
Gasping, they faced each other, limbs curled tight until they could breathe again. Daniel stroked her from the crown of her head all the way down her nude body to her feet. Sated, her sensual needs met, his touch still radiated heat and sent live current where it touched. On another level, it evoked deep emotion. Three words she’d never said and meant to a man flirted with her lips. Cecily almost said them but caught herself. Maybe this wasn’t the right time, she mused. They would face a lot tomorrow, maybe harder obstacles afterward. If it’s right, if it’s real, it will keep.
Naked as the day she’d been born, Cecily joined Daniel to finish the wine. Neither bothered to dress and they interacted, listening to some music in harmony. When they came back to bed, by silent consent they didn’t make love again but slept or tried to rest. Her last awareness was his hand resting on her back, a steady reminder of his presence. She didn’t dream and he woke her early, before dawn.
“Querida, it’s time to get up,” he told her.
She blinked open her eyes to find him fully dressed, fresh from the shower. Cecily reached up to touch his hair and found it damp. The aroma of coffee wafted through the house and she frowned. “What time is it?”
“Early but we’ve got a lot to do. Coffee’s ready and I’ve been out to bring back some breakfast.”
Her mind didn’t want to compute yet. “Huh?”
“I brought back something to eat, some sausage and egg biscuits.”
After groping for her robe, Cecily staggered into the kitchen and he poured her a cup of java. He’d made it strong but the robust flavor awakened her senses enough to think. After two cups, she ate the breakfast sandwich he offered. “So why am I up this early if we don’t need to be there until eleven?”
Daniel offered a quiet smile. “It takes almost an hour to drive to Springfield. And you’ll want time to get ready, too. It’s important you wear the right kind of outfit, chica.”
“True,” she said. So now he’s going to be my fashion consultant. “What do mean ‘right kind of outfit’? You gonna tell me what to wear?”
His expression turned serious as a thunderstorm. “Yeah, I am. I’ve been through more interviews than I can count and it matters what you wear. The agents will judge you by your clothing to some extent.”
It made sense. She learned early people do judge who and what you are by the clothes on your back but she didn’t much like it. “So what am I supposed to wear?”
“I looked through your closet,” he said and raised a hand. “Don’t get mad. I’m doing this to help you. You’ve got a navy skirt suit with a jacket. Wear it with a nice blouse, nothing low cut or flashy.”
“Uh-huh,” Cecily said. He’d picked the outfit she would have anyway. “Anything else? Want me to undo my braids or something?”
Daniel eyes narrowed with interest. “How hard would it be?”
Irritated, she snapped, “It’s not very hard to take them out but its hell to put them back. I have them done every week, even here. Do you really think I need to change my hairstyle?”
He laughed. “No, querida, I don’t. I like your hair. It suits you.”
The compliment pleased her. “Thanks
,” she said. “I guess I’ll go shower if you’re going to empty the coffee pot.”
“I will,” he said. “Be ready by nine, though. I want plenty of time to get there.”
By the time she showered, did her make-up with style and a little glamour, and picked a navy, red and black pinstriped blouse, it was after eight. Cecily donned the suit, slid into hose and stuck her feet into the only pair of pumps she’d brought from Chicago. Thank God they were navy too. She spritzed on perfume and picked up her handbag, then sauntered out to where Daniel waited in the living room. He glanced up from The Weather Channel and grinned.
“So will I do?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Let’s go before I get tempted.”
En route Daniel quizzed her with the kind of questions he expected the agents would ask. Cecily found most of them to be intrusive and some downright nosey. “How much do they want to know?”
“Everything they can get out of you,” he said. “Every word can be a piece of the puzzle. Now, not for the interview but for me, who else knew about the home safe or that he kept precious stones and jewelry in it?”
His question required thought. After a few minutes, she said, “Most of the staff knew about it and so did a few of his employees from Bradford’s Gems and Jewelry. I imagine some of his friends were aware. Maybe even some of his lovers, if he brought them home. I’d have to make a list. Do I need to start one?”
Daniel shook his head. “Not yet. We’ll see how today plays out first.”
Cecily wasn’t much into prayer but right now, she could use any and all assistance. Her inner conversation with the Almighty occupied her thoughts until they rolled into Springfield, a place she’d never visited until now. On her way down from St. Louis, she took a route she now realized went out of the way but Nia had promised it’d be scenic. It had been that, she mused, with fantastic views of the Ozark Mountains. “Have you been here before?” she asked Daniel.
“Here in Springfield or at the FBI office?”
“Either one.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been here. This is a satellite office under our jurisdiction out of Kansas City.”
“So do you know the agents?”
“Not really,” he said. “I’ve met them, nothing more.”
Maybe she’d watched too many movies and crime television programs but the modern office building tucked away off one of the city’s main thoroughfares wasn’t what Cecily expected. The local FBI office shared quarters in the large structure with dentists, architects, lawyers and consultants she noted from the building directory as they entered. Her heels tapped out an adagio rhythm as she struggled to keep up with Daniel’s long stride as he headed for the elevators. “Slow down, sugar,” she said. “What’s your rush?”
“I just want to get it over with,” he told her. His mouth made a grim line instead of the grin she adored. His stern appearance stretched her nerves tighter than new barbwire. “And, baby, I have to act professional, like I barely know you so don’t get mad.”
“I won’t, sugar.” She could put on an aloof act too and did, face schooled into a bland mask. Cecily added a little jive to her step. “Just give me any last hints.”
“Just be you,” Daniel said. A faint smile flirted with his lips before it vanished under his stern façade. “But don’t be too much of a smart ass or you might piss someone off.”
“Me?” she asked with faux innocence.
The elevator doors opened outside the FBI suite and Cecily noticed how Daniel stood straighter, shoulders squared in a military type stance. He gave her a brusque nod to direct her where to go and she stepped toward the indicated direction. Then he held open the door so she could walk into the office. With calm she didn’t own she strolled in and he followed. A mature man, fifty or so, wearing a dark suit, white shirt, and red tie came forward to meet then.
“Agent Padilla,” he said. “Thank you. It’s been awhile.”
She watched Daniel shake hands. “Yes, it has. How’s Trina?”
“She’s great, still working at the school and selling Avon on the side. Is this Mrs. Bradford?”
In response to the name she’d come to loathe, Cecily stood up tall. “No,” she said. “My name is Cecily Brown now.”
Daniel’s tight lips twitched but in a brisk tone he said, “Tillman, this is the former Mrs. Willard Bradford. She gained her maiden name back as part of her divorce. Ms. Brown, this is Agent Frank Tillman.”
Frank extended his hand and after a pause, Cecily shook it. “Come on back to the conference room and we’ll talk.”
He pointed so she walked into the room, basic and bland. A long table seating twelve claimed most of the space and two other people sat there, waiting. Her stomach clenched tight enough to ache. Cecily’s awareness of Daniel a few paces behind became heightened but when his footfalls stopped she almost panicked. “We’ll take it from here,” Tillman told Daniel. “Martin wants our fresh input and impressions. You can watch, though.”
She’d counted on his presence to keep her grounded, needed his silent support. Although she didn’t dare turn around, Cecily became cold as if a January wind brushed her. When directed, she sat down at the table as directed. The other agents introduced themselves although she didn’t catch their names because she was distracted trying to determine Daniel’s location.
Tillman switched on a digital recorder. “Let’s get started. You’re Cecily Brown, also known as Mrs. Willard Bradford IV, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“How long were you married to Mr. Bradford?”
“About ten years.”
“When did you get divorced?”
“A few months ago,” she replied, palms clammy with sweat. She linked her hands together in her lap so they wouldn’t tremble. Although she had nothing to hide, the informal interrogation made her nervous.
“So after ten years why did you decide to end the marriage? It was you who filed, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, it was.”
So far the questions were routine but Cicely suspected things were about to get intense, judging by the smirk on the head interviewer’s face. And she proved to be right when he said,
“And you’re angry about the divorce, correct?”
“No,” she replied. “I’m not.”
“But you’re upset you didn’t get half of your ex-husband’s vast fortune, aren’t you?”
Anger uncurled deep in her belly like a stretching cat. “I didn’t want his damn money,” Cecily said with some heat. “I asked for what seemed like enough money to help me start over. I know enough about the law and how it works. Illinois is a common law property state, not community. I wouldn’t have had a shot at getting half anyway. Will, uh, Willard had better lawyers than that.”
“Aren’t you bitter you couldn’t get more? What did you end up with? Wasn’t it a quarter of a million?”
His voice slashed into her private life, razor sharp. “If you’re asking, you already know,” Cecily said. Her struggle to keep a lid on her simmering temper was about to fail. “I didn’t want more. I figure I earned that much in ten years of putting up with him.”
Frowning, Tillman drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “C’mon. Don’t tell me you settled for two hundred and fifty thousand when you could have asked for millions. Isn’t the truth you did some math after the fact and decided to get more?”
“No.”
“Where were you on the day Willard was shot to death by an unknown assailant on the steps of the house you called home for a decade?”
Fear gnawed within with claws. At first, Cecily had thought Daniel might be a little paranoid, jaded by years in the same job. Then she realized maybe not and she became afraid but until this moment, she hadn’t tasted true terror. The intrusive questions were an attempt to finger her, mark her guilty. “I was in Branson, getting ready to open a boutique, Pink Neon.”
“How long had you been in town?”
“About a month, I thi
nk,” Cecily told him.
“Is there someone who can vouch for your whereabouts?”
The honest answer would be ‘no’. Sure, she’d dealt with the realtor and other business people, stayed at the hotel, ate in local restaurants but now, six weeks after her initial arrival, she didn’t know how many would remember. Despite her minority among the mostly white tourists, people came and went daily in Branson. Most of the locals exhibited a ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ philosophy and she couldn’t be certain they’d recall one black chick with corn rowed hair.
“For every minute? No,” she answered. “Give me dates and times, maybe I can document some of it. I stayed at a hotel until I rented a house. The realtor who sold me my shop and found the house can account for some of my time but not all of it.”
“So you had plenty of time to head back to Chicago, break into your former residence and shoot your former husband to death?”
Cecily drew breath to answer but the door slammed open. Daniel’s voice rang out with volume and clarity. “Tillman, you’re out of line. There’s no reason to believe Ms. Brown returned to Chicago after she left town.”
Frank Tillman paused. Red suffused his cheeks with an unhealthy glow and he glowered.
“Padilla, it’s my inquiry, not yours.”
“You’re pushing an agenda here, not questioning a person of interest.”
She didn’t dare look at Daniel, afraid she’d reveal their connection so she stared at the table.
“Bullshit,” Tillman snorted. “I’m trying to establish if motive exists and if she had opportunity to commit the crime. I see motive – money can be a powerful motivator and now I’d say there’s opportunity if she can’t account for her time, especially if she can’t validate any of it.”
If she didn’t speak up, she’d be charged next. “I can account for my time,” Cecily snapped. She lifted her head and caught sight of Daniel, serious and sober-faced standing just inside the door. “I never realized I’d need an alibi or witnesses, since I had no idea someone would take down Willard.”
“What did you do with the jewels, Ms. Brown? Did you fire the weapon or hire someone professional?” Tillman’s voice slammed into her consciousness. “If I search your house, your business, or your car, will I find the gems and jewelry or is it gone?”
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