Auf'd (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Two)

by Amy Saunders

He took a minute to process what she said, his eyes unfocused. Then they snapped back, but he looked more confused. "And you knew this all along and never mentioned it?"

  "I...I didn't know what to make of it. I wasn't sure yet that it mattered."

  "But I..." Bennett stared at the wall, his eyes churning with whatever was going on in there. "I thought.... He made a play for you." For once, Bennett was making as little sense as she often did. "Did you know that? Did you know that he didn't mean anything by it?"

  Belinda was taken aback by the intensity of his relatively simple question. "Yes."

  "The whole time? From the start?" His intensity doubled.

  She thought about meeting Sawyer backstage during the search for April and their later interactions, all the way up to the cocktail party, just in case. She didn't dare give him a wrong answer. "Yes."

  "How?" It was such a basic, commonplace question that people ask in reference to something almost everyday. But Bennett stared at her, waiting for her reply, with wide-eyed curiosity.

  He asked a lot of questions because he just wanted to know. If he didn't know something, it itched until he got an answer. But she'd never seen him so boyishly curious. It was like he was in awe that she could possess such knowledge and throw it out there that easily.

  Belinda shrugged, not completely sure how she came to that conclusion. It happened without having to think that hard. "For one thing, Sawyer has a rep as a womanizer. But I could have answered that way even before I knew that. He's too much. He laid it on way too thick and fast for me to believe he meant any of it."

  He nodded and Belinda could see him mentally adding that to other things he knew. "So...it never affected you?" He was still in Curious Boy Mode like this conversation had no bearing on their relationship. It was just information relaying. Information that he wanted and she appeared to have.

  That question was a little trickier in light of...everything. But she wanted to be honest. If all the facts were out on the table, then maybe they could turn things around. "Well, it's a bit of an ego boost, I'll admit. But the way he acts mostly just embarrasses me. I feel awkward around him." She shrugged. "I'm not like him and I can't play his game." Even though she'd deluded herself into thinking she could. The night she bumped heads with Bennett at the inn came to mind and she flushed. That whole scenario proved it right there.

  "No, you can't," he said matter-of-factly, apparently thinking of the same night and her flustered and ineffective act.

  Belinda flushed again.

  He contemplated the conversation so far, finally gazing at her, still in wonder.

  "Why are you asking all these questions?" she said when he didn't go on. Okay. So she knew why he was asking the questions, but she wanted to know why he was asking the questions. See, there's a distinct difference.

  "Because I..." Color rose up his neck. "Because I can't always tell these things. And you..." Bennett's eyes still reflected that boyhood innocence. "You are..." His eyes drifted away like he was trying to find the right words.

  "I am?" Belinda felt something revelatory coming.

  His eyes drifted back. "I just can't imagine why Sawyer didn't mean it." His voice carried all the transparent innocence on his face, and for that moment, she thought she'd seen a snapshot of Bennett from childhood.

  It wasn't specific. It wasn't "You're wonderful." Or "You're beautiful." Or "You're a goddess and what have I been thinking all this time?" But it was progress, and quite the compliment from Bennett Tate. He meant it. Every word. It gave her more hope than anything so far. She kept hearing they could make things right. But now she was starting to believe it.

  But instead of smiling or saying something snappy or even intelligent, Belinda blurted, "I got grass stains on my pants."

  It was like a flash went off and when the white dots subsided, Bennett the man: the snarky, cheeky, incorrigible person she knew stared back at her.

  "Is that so?" Bennett caressed the skin around the bandage on her face. "My apologies to your pants, but I'm more concerned with your body."

  Belinda blinked, her breath coming in quicker succession. Curse her lack of thinking ability when face-to-face with Super Hot Bennett!

  An officer poked her head around the wall and told Bennett Jonas was asking for him. Bennett scowled and said he was coming. Belinda gathered her composure as he backed away, swallowing her embarrassment that she thought he was going to kiss her.

  "Stay out of trouble," he said sternly.

  Belinda blinked to try and catch up with his changes in demeanor, but couldn't stand it anymore and ran her fingers through his hair to try and at least rumple it up. It still wasn't as perfect as it was before he belly flopped into the pool, but it looked more like him.

  Bennett's eyes glinted, his mouth quirking up minutely, and he left her leaning on the wall for support.

  What just happened? That was the second time that day that Bennett backed her into a corner like he was about to kiss the ever-loving life out of her before they were rudely interrupted and the moment was ruined so she would never know if that was his intent!

  Belinda tilted her head back onto the wall and took a long, dragged-out breath, trying to blow off the sensation of him standing so close. As for the staying out of trouble part...well, she would claim later she didn't hear him say that.

  ~ * ~

  Bennett trudged back to Jonas' office after coming this close to kissing Belinda. He was anxious. Anxious to see Belinda again even if he was reluctant to show it, even to himself.

  He really just wanted to tell that officer to get lost; he was in the middle of something and he'd talk to Jonas later. But he was also afraid that he was diving back in too fast with Belinda, and the interruption was a good excuse to take a step back and think.

  Think about her answers to his questions about Sawyer. She sounded absolutely convinced that Sawyer wasn't interested in her—at least beyond the superficial. And she stated without hesitating that she didn't care for Sawyer any more than that twice now, and even seemed to squirm when talking about how awkward Sawyer made her feel.

  There was no reason for Sawyer to not like Belinda, and the thought that he was toying with her made Bennett even more infuriated. What if she did like Sawyer and believed he was serious?

  Bennett stopped walking. He'd just admitted that he believed when Belinda said she did not like Sawyer.

  Whoa.

  He needed a minute to think about that. Did he really believe it?

  Yes, he did.

  He took a deep breath, his lips forming an O as he blew it back out gradually. So what now? Bennett needed time to work that out, and he had to focus on other things right then.

  Like Belinda's escapade at the inn.

  What was she thinking diving out of that window anyway? He'd followed Belinda and Victoria from the Sykes' after suspecting Belinda pulled something from Sawyer's wallet. Since the cocktail party, Bennett had tracked Sawyer's every move, and he knew which inn Sawyer moved to after he kicked him out of the Portside Inn. And Sawyer's new temporary residence was just blocks from Belinda's car.

  If Bennett hadn't been so obsessed with keeping an eye on Belinda, and by extension Victoria, he would have noticed whoever it was Victoria saw when she whistled. Bennett was about to run inside to help Belinda get out when she swan dived out the window!

  He flew from his hiding spot, determined to reach the tree before gravity had its way with her, when she grabbed the branch and started flailing around like a piñata.

  And then her refusal to just listen. He'd sprinted from the other side of the inn to try and catch her before she hit ground. There was no way Bennett was going to let her get hurt. Not when he was in a perfect position to help. But she wanted to argue. Argue.

  Bennett shook his head, still in disbelief over that. Get out of the tree safely first and then talk. That would be the logical order of things. But, no. Belinda wanted to have that discussion as she swung helplessly from two stories up, about to lo
se her grip. As he stood there, trying to convince her to trust him to catch her, Bennett was actually afraid she would somehow manage to miss his arms on purpose. Just to spite him.

  Bennett sighed in relief that he caught her, even if she did knock the wind out of him in the process.

  She was stubborn, illogical, and impulsive.

  He missed her.

  Bennett swung the door open to Jonas' office and flopped into a seat, trying to mentally change gears. He expected something urgent about the case to come out of Jonas' mouth, but apparently he had more important things on his mind.

  "Look, man," Jonas said, trying to munch on peanuts at the same time. "You cannot let that woman out there slip through your fingers." He leaned across his desk, his green eyes wide. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want to go out there right now and do unmentionable things to a woman who leaped out a hotel window to escape."

  So much for taking his mind off Belinda for a few minutes. Bennett locked his eyes on Jonas, opening and closing his mouth. Then he just leaned back in his chair, staring off into space, though he already knew his answer. "Yes." His voice was low and soft, but firm. He knew what he wanted now. But he needed a way to get her back. "Belinda told me she thought I was being unfair."

  "Which you were."

  "Which I'm still processing. But...I'm realizing this whole thing...it's not what it's looked like."

  "Then you go and you fight for her!" Jonas got up and paced, animated now. "You go tell Belinda you want her. Break loose. Do something outrageous."

  "Outrageous?" Bennett lifted his heavy brows a notch.

  "Get your dictionary out." Jonas slapped him on the shoulder. "It's time for you to go Optimus Bennett on this woman and show her what you're made of."

  The wheels in Bennett's head cranked and turned. What in this context constituted outrageous? Jonas cut into his deciphering. "A suggestion: don't think."

  Bennett spun around to face him. "You just told me to do something outrageous. Outrageous takes planning."

  "No, it doesn't."

  "Yes, it does."

  "No. It. Doesn't." Jonas looked him squarely in the eyes. "Truly outrageous things happen spontaneously. I've done three of them and not a lick of thinking happened beforehand."

  "I bet."

  Jonas smiled. "And that is the Bennett I've loved for ten years. If you're going to take my advice, then take my advice. Go to her and go with the flow. See what transpires. Listen to your gut."

  "I'm not sure I can do that." He rubbed his hands back and forth on his thighs.

  "Bennett, you kissed Belinda's assistant impulsively in a fit of man rage because of Sawyer's flirting. You can do something outrageous that will actually win Belinda back. I have faith in you."

  Bennett leaned back, trying not to think too hard about it. Outrageous was not really his specialty. But if Jonas thought he could do it, and that it might save his chances with Belinda, then he'd certainly try.

  Chapter 18

  Belinda appreciated why Victoria was worried about telling Dan about their inn adventure. Telling Kyle, on the other hand, was a completely different situation. He laughed. And laughed. And laughed. He laughed so hard for so long that Belinda rolled her eyes at one point at the sheer ridiculousness of how long it was taking him to get it out of his system. He finally did, wiping tears from his eyes, his cheeks a nice rosy pink.

  And then he put her on lockdown.

  Lockdown!

  Every once in a while, Kyle unwrapped his Mr. Bossy Boots persona and refused to put up with her crap. For some strange reason, it worked pretty well most of the time. It was so rare for him to tell her what to do, that she just obeyed in stunned silence.

  And by lockdown he meant she couldn't leave or do anything work-related in the house either.

  So the next day, instead of editing her blog post or viewing the shots the photographer just e-mailed or practicing her moves for the flash mob dance, Belinda sat with legs crossed in the middle of her bed, her bum nestled in the dip her body had carved out in the mattress, and stared at the wall in her loft.

  The kittens napped downstairs. The construction workers had left for the day. Kyle texted and said he was going to the Portside Harbor Marina after work.

  And that was the last sound she heard—when her phone blipped from Kyle's text.

  That was exactly nine—no, ten—minutes ago. She'd heard the last evidence of human life ten minutes ago.

  What was her world coming to?

  No sanders blasting or hammers hacking. No cats meowing. No TV blaring.

  Perfect silence for ten minutes. Eleven now. Eleven minutes.

  Is this what silent as the grave meant? Or you could hear a pin drop?

  She waited for something to intrude. Anything. But fourteen and a half minutes later, she still couldn't hear anything. Just when she thought she was going to make it to fifteen, it happened.

  And, no, the phone didn't ring.

  There was a rap on the door. Then another. Then several panicked, irritating knocks in rapid succession.

  "Yes?" Belinda said while opening the door. She wasn't sure who it could be, but certainly never imagined the person who actually stood in front of her.

  Mrs. Sykes' eyes widened and she wrung her hands. "It's you."

  "You expected someone else?" Belinda said in surprise. "This is my house."

  "I know, I know. I just...I wasn't sure you'd be here." Mrs. Sykes glanced around her. "Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

  Belinda wasn't sure if Kyle's lockdown included guests, but she figured she could make an exception.

  "I'm sorry about what happened at the inn," Mrs. Sykes said breathlessly. "You surprised me and I was really on edge already."

  Ditto. Belinda had also attacked first, which didn't work out so well. If she stayed calm and let Mrs. Sykes in, maybe she'd learn what had become of the suitcase. Or, even better, what was inside it. She directed Mrs. Sykes to the dining table because the couch would take forever to clear off. She swiveled to move a bowl from the kitchen table to the counter. When she turned back around, Mrs. Sykes was in her face with something sharp up to her neck. Her hand shook.

  Perhaps Belinda should just have assumed Kyle's lockdown included guests.

  "This is epinephrine." Mrs. Sykes' voice wavered. "Works great for severe allergic reactions to shellfish. Not so great if it's injected in your neck and you don't need it."

  Belinda swallowed. Kyle hadn't mentioned when he'd come home. And there was absolutely no one else she could expect to pop in. Or scream for.

  "So," Mrs. Sykes continued, "tell me what you did with it."

  "It?" Belinda cleared her throat. "What 'it' are you talking about?"

  "The jacket!" Mrs. Sykes' face twisted up. "You took it!"

  Belinda had no response to that. "I jumped out the window..."

  "Then you hid it." She was frenzied now, the needle wavering in strangled circles near Belinda's veins. Belinda winced, feeling it graze her skin. "It was gone. So you did something."

  Crazy people are not reasonable. That much Belinda knew. And when people went mental and got something stuck in their minds, you couldn't talk them out of it. But her other options were slim. Sure, Mrs. Sykes was unstable and shaking uncontrollably. But she was also nuts (as just established) and holding an epinephrine auto-injector near Belinda's neck. Now Belinda wasn't sure what that would do to her, but she felt certain she didn't want to find out.

  "Tell me!" Mrs. Sykes shrieked.

  "Mrs. Sykes, I didn't hide any of Sawyer's jackets." Belinda was trying to discern what jacket she wanted, but nothing came to mind except that.

  Mrs. Sykes quirked her head, bewilderment on her face. Then the door swung open. Mrs. Sykes looked up, then plunged the needle in Belinda's neck. Belinda screamed as an unidentified flying object clobbered Mrs. Sykes on the head and knocked her out.

  Belinda collapsed to the floor, yanking out the needle, and gazed at an unconscious Mr
s. Sykes...with a black patent leather satchel-style purse next to her head.

  Brooke knelt next to Belinda. She pulled the auto-injector from Belinda's frozen fingers, and examined the needle and Belinda's neck. "We need to deal with this."

  Belinda managed to make sense of her words. The pulse in her neck throbbed and panic swelled inside her wondering if that stuff was now coursing to her heart. She felt for the phone—on the floor, which showed she wasn't quite present yet—intending to call for an ambulance and the police.

  "Not that," Brooke said firmly. "She didn't use it properly so the auto-injector didn't work. You'll be fine. You just need to steady your breathing." She set the auto-injector on the counter and studied the conked-out Mrs. Sykes. "I mean we need to deal with her."

  "What are you talking about?" Belinda wasn't sure she was out of trouble yet. Brooke smiled, her eyes glittering.

  "This woman knows too much." Brooke cocked her head down toward Mrs. Sykes. "She—and her embezzling ways—are way too connected to Sawyer for his own good. He's been trying to shake her, but she's persistent. Then there's me." Her eyes went dark but then she shook it off. "So you see, we need to do something. She's obviously flown over the cuckoo's nest."

  Who was this girl talking to her like some sort of...spy or something? Maybe it was the adrenaline or the nausea from almost dying, but Belinda couldn't make sense of anything Brooke said. "What on earth are you suggesting?"

  Brooke put a hand out for Belinda to settle down. Not that she had the energy to muster much more than a quizzical expression. "Unless she wants to wind up dead," Brooke pointed at Mrs. Sykes, "we need to get her out of sight. She's running around like a mad person, shrieking about a jacket and Sawyer's room. She's going to get killed. You know as well as I do that Sawyer didn't almost die at that party by accident." Brooke's soft voice became venomous with the last words.

  "What jacket?" Belinda's vision was clearing and Brooke was starting to sound as crazy as Mrs. Sykes.

  "Never mind. The important thing is that Mrs. Sykes is not running around town threatening to dose people unless they tell her what they did with the jacket." Brooke glanced around. "Got any rope?"