Long, Lean and Lethal

by O'Clare, Lorie

  “You have no clue,” he growled, a harshness in his tone snapping her attention back to him. Noah hit the accelerator, taking them around the ATM machine and to the exit. He didn’t elaborate, and as curious as this dark side of his was that reared its ugly head and disappeared before she could analyze it, Rain knew it wasn’t any of her business.

  Adjusting herself in her seat, she decided to play navigator. “Take a right when you get out of here. I know the perfect hobby store that should have everything we need.” They would work better together if they kept their conversations on the case, and not on each other. There wasn’t time, or the desire, Rain reminded herself, to get attached to this man. Her life was her work. A good man might relieve sexual tension from time to time, but whenever Rain allowed herself to get too close to anyone all it did was fuck up her life.

  This case was too damned important to allow anything to mess it up. And that meant keeping a safe distance from her partner, even while being in his arms. Rain kept her attention on the road, refusing to look over at Noah. She couldn’t help wondering what was in his past, though, that caused his expression to darken at times.

  Over the next few hours they did more shopping than Rain had done all year. And she admitted, although her feet were killing her when they returned “home,” it was a blast buying so many things.

  Noah left her, hauling off his score of yard work tools, and Rain found herself alone in the house to arrange and decorate. They were in a two-bedroom ranch-style home, with both bedrooms and the bathroom lining each side of the hallway. Rain entered the small, empty bedroom with the easel and canvases, along with bags of paints and other supplies. She lost a good hour organizing and arranging while mulling over their conversation earlier with the butcher, pondering what to expect out of Friday night, and going over faxes that came through while they were gone. When her phone rang, it dawned on her that all of this time Noah hadn’t come back inside.

  “Hello,” she said, after glancing at the number and not recognizing it.

  “Is this Rain Kayne?” a woman asked.

  Rain snapped to attention. “Yes. Hi, who is this?” she asked in as cheerful a tone as she could muster.

  “This is Brandy Flynn. I believe you and your husband chatted with my husband, Butch, at the store earlier today.”

  “Yes. We did. Hello.” Rain walked into the kitchen and pulled a Diet Dr Pepper out of the refrigerator and then looked out the back door.

  “Butch mentioned a potluck we’re going to Friday over at the Gamboas’. I spoke with Jan and she’s excited to meet you two,” Brandy said cheerfully.

  Rain barely caught what Brandy said as she focused on Noah’s bare back. Sweat glistened off all of that muscle as he pushed the mower over the grass. The back deck was wet and looked a lot better than it had the last time she looked at it. Noah was doing a bang-up job of making the yard look cozy and inviting. Not to mention, even though he was probably filthy and stunk, he looked more than inviting as well. Invitation, hell. Rain imagined walking outside and demanding he stop mowing and fuck her in the semi-private backyard.

  She blinked and focused on her conversation. “Noah and I are thrilled to possibly make some new friends that are into what we’re into,” she offered, impressed she didn’t stutter while pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes to focus on the conversation.

  “Swinging,” Brandy offered, and then laughed easily. “Forgive me. We’re a laid-back group and pretty open when around each other. My husband says you are both gorgeous people. I’m sure we’ll all love you both!” Again her laughter sang through the phone.

  Rain wasn’t sure whether she should say something flattering about Brandy’s husband or not. “We’re both more into personalities instead of physical appearance,” she said, and then wondered if she could pry anything out of Brandy. “It matters a lot to Noah and me that we have common interests with our friends. Can you tell me about the people who will be there? Are all of them married couples?”

  “Yes. Most of us are married. And it is kind of a prerequisite for all of us. We prefer associating with couples over singles. Let’s just say that way everyone has something to offer,” she said, again laughing. “But there are a couple of single people, if you’re into that.”

  “Are there single men, or women?”

  “Well, Sheila,” she started, and then paused.

  Rain hoped Brandy might mean Sheila Lapthorne and decided to press. “Yes?” she encouraged.

  “Oh, she is a wonderful lady. She recently lost her husband. We’re all trying to be very supportive.”

  “How terrible,” Rain said, glancing again out the back door but then looking away when Noah caught her looking. “What happened?”

  “Well … ,” Brandy began.

  This time Rain didn’t say a word. She would wait out the silence to hear what Brandy would say about George Lapthorne’s murder.

  “It was a terrible accident, really, hunting accident.”

  “Hunting accident?” Rain popped open the can of soda and then headed into the master bedroom where the computer was set up. She plopped down in front of it and opened a notebook, then grabbed a pen.

  “It was very unfortunate that it happened. George should have known better.” Brandy sounded firm, but then her tone softened. “Of course it isn’t something that any of us discuss at the parties.”

  “Oh no. Of course not.” Rain wrote “Hunting accident” on the blank page and then wrote “George” next to it. Above it, she wrote “Brandy Flynn.” “I just wanted to get a feel for everyone going there. I’m afraid I don’t know much about hunting. What is everyone else like?”

  “We’re all very good friends and committed to each other. If you fit in, I’m sure you’ll become part of our tight community,” Brandy said matter-of-factly.

  “Who all will be there Friday night?”

  “The Gamboas of course—Ted and Jan. We’ll be there. Then there are Susie and Steve Porter. Steve is sort of our leader. You’ll also meet Richard Swanson, and I’m pretty sure Elaine and Oscar Phillips will be there. They’ve been accepted into the group now. And then, of course, Patty and Joanna,” Brandy said and finally took a breath.

  Rain quickly wrote down the names as Brandy rattled them off. She underlined Richard Swanson’s name. Then searching through the copies of the police reports, she found the information on Roberta Swanson. Her husband’s name was Richard. Rain licked her lips, anxious to milk as much information out of Brandy as possible without making it sound like all she cared about was the names of those who matched the murderer’s victims.

  “Who is Richard’s wife?” she asked, pointing at his name after writing it down on her notepad.

  “Richard is a widower,” Brandy said, and then cleared her throat.

  “So there are a fair amount of single people in the group?”

  “Richard’s been with us forever. No one is going to ask him to leave.” Brandy laughed, but there was a forced sound to it. Suddenly she sounded a bit nervous. “Anyway, it is a potluck party. But we won’t ask you to bring anything since it’s your first time with us. The address is Twenty-three twenty-three Pine and the party starts at eight. I can give you directions if you tell me where you live,” she offered.

  “We insist on bringing something.” Rain again shuffled through paperwork until she found the address for the home they were staying in. “Noah’s a good cook. What is everyone else bringing?”

  “You aren’t bringing anything,” Brandy said firmly, but then her tone lightened. “I insist. You’re coming as our guests. Now, tell me your address. I’ll give you directions. Butch said you were new in town.”

  “We are. And Noah always insists on driving. I’ll never learn my way around at this rate.”

  Brandy’s laughter was once again melodic, relaxed. There was something she was very nervous about discussing, which made Rain itch to press further into the topic of the murders.

  “What do you do while he
works?”

  “He hasn’t started his job yet. We’re still getting settled in.” Rain scribbled on the side of the notebook paper that Noah needed a start date. They would have to keep their stories straight. “But our address is Thirteen-ten West Elm Street.”

  Rain listened while Brandy gave directions, and repeated them back to her so it sounded like she wrote them down. And she didn’t bother to comment when Brandy told her to take a right when it should be a left. Rain knew exactly where the house was for their Friday night potluck.

  “If you need help with anything around town, give me a call,” Brandy said when she’d finished with her directions. “Otherwise, we’ll see you Friday night.”

  “Sounds good. Bye for now.” Rain hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, staring at her notes. “She knows something,” she guessed, musing out loud. Then as an afterthought, she scribbled “right instead of left” in the margin. In case Butch overheard the directions being given, Rain and Noah would need a reason why they found the place with Brandy’s directions.

  Rain’s stomach fluttered as nervous excitement rushed through her. The back door opened and closed and Rain watched the hallway and listened while Noah opened and closed the refrigerator and then his heavy footsteps creaked against the floor as he walked through the house.

  The sun no longer reflected against the sheen of sweat clinging to all that bare muscle. Noah filled the doorway, no shirt, faded jeans, and with a beer in his hand. Rain took in the picture, a view dangerous and dripping with sex appeal, and then looked away quickly. But even as she tried focusing on the notebook page with her notes scribbled on it, the image of him standing in front of her naked appeared in her mind. Her heart pounded against her ribs while it grew noticeably warmer in the room.

  “What have you been doing?” His question sounded normal enough, but his deep baritone, rushing over her skin like an invitation, added to the view he offered her, seductive and incredibly enticing.

  “I just got off of the phone with Brandy.”

  “Brandy?”

  Rain glanced at him. He didn’t move from where he stood. “Brandy Flynn is Butch’s wife.”

  “Oh.” One eyebrow shot up and then Noah moved into the room, the smell of his deodorant and freshly cut grass oddly creating an appealing, almost erotic aroma. “You took notes? You get something off of her?”

  Rain sighed and opened and closed her pen quickly, making it click while staring at what she’d written down. Noah put his hand on the back of her chair and his knuckles scraped against her shoulder blade.

  “Just an impression, I’d say,” she began, and then leaned forward and pointed at her notes while explaining the phone call while he watched over her shoulder. “I don’t know her,” she concluded. “But it was how her vocal inflection changed, the way she laughed and then evaded and even lied about certain things. She knows something.”

  “She might know a lot,” Noah offered easily. “And you seldom know a perp when you interview him. It’s signs like you just described that help determine if guilt exists or not. We use those signs to know where to push with an interrogation.”

  “But this wasn’t an interrogation,” she reminded him. “Brandy viewed it as a phone call to get acquainted with new people in town and invite them to a party. I couldn’t push too hard.”

  “You’ll get your chance.” He moved his hand and squeezed her shoulder, then stroked her hair. “The fact that we have people with knowledge of the murders proves we’re moving in the right direction.”

  “Moving at a snail’s pace.”

  “Solving a murder takes time. And we’ve got four murders, more if these deaths are connected to the ones in Kansas City and Dallas.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” She dropped her pen and moved out of the chair and away from his gentle caresses.

  “I know that you know that.” Noah drank from his beer, watching her over the bottle while his Adam’s apple moved in his neck with each swallow. He put the bottle on the desk by the computer before it was empty. “We’ve got a full day before that party and the opportunity to learn more about these people and find out what they know.”

  “Our killer could be among those people,” she blurted, aware of the possibility that their murderer might be closer than they thought.

  “Could be.” Noah moved closer to her, although it also meant he moved toward the door, which might have been all he intended to do. “What do we do now?”

  She ached to touch him. He didn’t seem to have a problem continually caressing her, stroking her skin or petting her hair. Rain knew that if she reached out and even so much as pressed her fingertips into that solid, muscular body all her resolve would fade away. All it would take was the slightest movement and she could answer his question without uttering a word.

  Rain lifted her gaze to his face, realizing she’d been focusing on his rippling chest muscles, and saw his serious yet relaxed expression. His question was sincere, with no suggestive undertones. Noah’s mind was on the case, which was where her thoughts needed to stay.

  “We’ve got some names here. I can search online, see if we have any priors, learn where each of them live, where they work. I can find out if any of them recently purchased a gun. The best thing to do is lay down all of the facts first.” She looked toward the computer, encouraging her mind to continue on its brainstorming path. “The fax came through with a list of names who are friends or acquaintances of each victim. Everyone on that list is a suspect until we eliminate them. We need to find out where each one of them was at the time of each murder, what their relationship was to each victim.”

  “I need a shower and then I’ll help you.” Noah reached for her, as usual touching her without hesitation as if it were the most natural thing for him to do. “Unless of course you want to come scrub my back and then we can research them together.”

  She made a face and hoped it looked like the idea didn’t appeal to her. “Go take your shower,” she grumbled, although her voice was huskier than she wanted it to be.

  Noah cleared the distance between them so quickly she barely noticed him move until he stepped into her space. Grabbing the hair at the side of her head, he tugged hard enough for her to feel the pinch against her scalp. Then, as he seemed so good at doing, Noah pressed his lips over hers, kissing her thoroughly before letting her up for air.

  “Next time then,” he whispered, his mouth close enough that it would take nothing to kiss her again. “Maybe I’ll get you dirty later and then wash your back.”

  After Noah left the room, Rain grumbled her frustration, still feeling where he touched her even after the shower started. It was impossible not to imagine him naked, seeing the water slowly soak the dark hair on his chest, and picture sudsy streams flowing down all that corded muscle.

  “Damn him,” she growled, reaching for her pen but then tossing it on the notepad while frustration ate at her furiously.

  She almost jumped when her phone rang again. Staring at the number for a moment, Rain contemplated sending the call to voice mail. Maybe talking to someone who had nothing to do at all with anything in her life right now would help.

  “Hello.” Rain moved to her bed, plopped onto the edge of it, and pulled her legs to sit cross-legged.

  “Rain, how are you doing, sweetheart?” Jimmy Malcom, her on-again, off-again lover, who conveniently lived thirty miles away in a smaller town, sounded as jovial as always.

  “I’m fine, Jimmy,” she said, knowing he didn’t want to hear the details of her life.

  “Great!” he said, the grin obvious in his voice. “It’s time for us to play catch-up. It’s been a while.”

  “It has been a while,” she agreed, staring at her toenails while focusing on Jimmy’s deep voice. For a while, Rain had contemplated making Jimmy a more serious boyfriend. Her father never knew about him, and wouldn’t have approved if he did. But the physical distance between them made Jimmy a safe lover. When she was with him she could pla
y his devoted girlfriend, and when she returned to Lincoln she could clear her head from the romance and focus entirely on her work.

  “Remember when we went out to the lake last summer?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled forward the memory.

  “How could I forget?” Rain smiled, remembering when they had rented a paddleboat and then tried making out in it. The thing capsized, soaking both of them. It proved a fair amount of work righting it and climbing back in. Both of them were so exhausted by the time they returned it safely to the dock they never made love.

  “Let’s not do that again,” he offered.

  Rain laughed easily. Every time she went to see Jimmy, he took her out somewhere in his town, the two of them played the devoted couple, then most often he would get a motel room and they would have sex for hours. Jimmy was good, tireless, unless he was forced to spend almost an hour in water, and safe. In the years they’d known each other, not once did he tell her he loved her, and he’d never suggested she leave her job to be closer to him. Any other man Rain had tried getting close to inevitably suggested she quit her line of work to be with him.

  “That sounds like a plan,” Rain offered, glancing at the doorway when the shower turned off.

  “So what is your week looking like?” Jimmy asked.

  “Not good.” She wouldn’t tell Jimmy she was working undercover. They never talked about their work when they were together or on the phone. With Jimmy it was a fantasy. Both of them giving each other that special something without any ties or worries of one of them trying to crowd the other.

  “Have you found someone else?” His question surprised her.

  Rain figured it was fair enough for him to ask, though. It had been a good month since they’d last talked. “No,” she said truthfully, shooting furtive glances toward the hallway. She pictured Noah stepping out of the shower, rubbing the towel over all that roped muscle. She hadn’t found him, though. They’d been assigned to each other. “I’m going to be busy with work for a while,” she admitted.

  “That job of yours,” Jimmy said, sighing.