Finding You

by Jenna Bennett

  “That he asked his accomplice to kill Juan? Yes. At least that’s what he told me.” Whether he was telling the truth was another matter entirely, but he had no reason to lie.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” Enrique said, jaw tight as he set off down the hallway. Ty and I exchanged a glance and hurried after.

  We found Sullivan sitting up in a chair, dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and a Key West PD T-shirt. He looked like he was on his way out, and maybe he was. Maybe we’d caught him just in time.

  Enrique didn’t pull any punches, or waste any words. “We’ve got Stan,” he told Sullivan.

  And then we all watched Sullivan turn pale.

  Enrique sighed. “David Sullivan, you’re under arrest for assault, and dereliction of duty, and facilitating an escape from custody—”

  He reached for his handcuffs, and stumbled back when Sullivan came out of the chair and gave him a shove. Sullivan headed for the door at a stumbling run that, I’m sure, must have hurt his wounded leg.

  I scrambled out of the way, and watched as Ty took him down, quickly and efficiently. “Cuffs,” he said, holding out a hand, his knee in the middle of Sullivan’s back. I took them from Enrique, who was still trying to get to his feet, and handed them over. Ty snapped them over Sullivan’s wrists, and yanked him up.

  “It was Stan!” Sullivan said, rattling the restraints. “He made me do it.”

  “Knock it off.” Ty shook him.

  “He wanted me to kill Juan,” Sullivan babbled. “I didn’t. That’s gotta weigh, right? Right? That I coulda killed him and didn’t?”

  “Juan isn’t the only person who got hurt,” Enrique told him, on his feet now. “You let Stan go, and Stan attacked Cassie.”

  Sullivan looked at me, and then quickly away before he could meet my eyes. Ty’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.

  “He attacked Carmen, too,” Enrique continued. “And shot at Agent Connor. That could easily have gone wrong. And you’re lucky I just have a concussion.”

  Not surprisingly, Sullivan had no answer to that one, either.

  “And he shot Martoni in the gut and almost killed him. All because you opened his handcuffs.”

  There was a moment of silence. I guess we were all waiting for Sullivan to respond, to say something, anything. But he didn’t.

  “What were you afraid he was going to do to you?” Enrique wanted to know, his voice calmer now that he’d laid out his case. “What did he have on you, that would make you agree to help him?”

  Sullivan laughed, a little bitterly, I thought. “I’ve known him since we were kids, man. We grew up together. When I came back from Iraq, he’s the one who got me the job with the PD. When he asked if I’d share some of the drugs the VA gave me for depression and to help me sleep, wasn’t like I could say no.”

  I gaped at him. “You’re the one who gave him the drugs. The drugs he used on the girls. And on me.”

  “I didn’t know what he was gonna use’em for,” Sullivan said. “Not at first. It’s a couple years ago. I thought he just wanted to relax. It ain’t easy, being a cop.”

  Nobody responded to that. “When did you figure out what he was doing?” Ty wanted to know.

  “Not till last year.”

  “So last Spring Break, you knew Stan was using the drugs you gave him to rape girls. And you didn’t say anything?”

  “I talked to him,” Sullivan said. “And he said if I said anything, he’d take me down with him. Say I’d known all along what he was doing. That I was doing it, too.”

  “And did you?”

  “No!” Sullivan shook his head. “God, no. I saw enough of that shit in Iraq.”

  No doubt. Although that wasn’t an excuse for what he’d done, and what he’d allowed to happen. Even so, I did feel a little bad for him. But just a little.

  “Stay here.” Ty held me back as Enrique started marching Sullivan down the hallway toward the elevator. “They don’t need us for this.”

  I glanced at him. “Are you sure? Sullivan might try to get away once they get outside.”

  “He’s cuffed,” Ty said. “And after what he did to Juan, Enrique won’t take any chances. He’ll put a bullet in him before he lets him get away.”

  Alrighty, then. “So it’s over.”

  “It ain’t over till the fat lady sings. Or something like that.”

  “Mackenzie isn’t fat.”

  Ty’s face cracked in a smile. “I wasn’t talking about Mackenzie. It’ll be over when the trial is finished and Stan has been sentenced to a hundred years in prison. Or whatever the maximum penalty is for what he did. When he’s locked up, and can’t get out, and all we have to do is watch him rot, that’s when it’ll be over.”

  “Next week?”

  “Could be next week,” Ty said and pushed the button for the elevator.

  “Can you stick around?”

  “As long as it takes,” Ty said, and pulled me through the sliding doors.

  “I WISH Paula could have seen this,” I told Ty.

  It was a week later, and we were sitting at a table in Captain Crow’s Bar, watching not just Austin, but Mackenzie, too, up on the little stage at the back of the room, entertaining the crowd of Spring Breakers. Most of them probably had no idea that America’s Country Sweetheart herself, along with her significant other, were providing tonight’s entertainment. Most of them were drunk out of their minds, and likely wouldn’t recognize their own mothers if they were to show up. But at least one guy had his phone out and was filming the performance. By tomorrow morning, it would have gone viral.

  “Did you call her?”

  I nodded. I had, the evening the verdict came down in Stan’s trial. Guilty on all counts, including the new ones—not that there was any doubt. He was sentenced to enough years in prison that both Paula and I would be grandmothers by the time he saw daylight again. “She just couldn’t come back. It’s expensive, flying back and forth from Wisconsin to Key West.”

  “Maybe you should ask Mackenzie to dedicate a song to her. That way, when the guy with the phone uploads his video to YouTube tomorrow, Paula can hear it.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  I gave him a beaming smile before I twitched out of the arm he had put around my shoulders and made my way to the back of the room. On the way, I passed Quinn and James, who were twined around each other at a table. They were so busy they didn’t even notice me walking by. Good thing the artist James Hunt wasn’t as famous as Mackenzie and Austin yet, or the tabloids would have gotten an eyeful.

  Up by the stage I waited for a break in the music, and then waved Mackenzie over. “Can you sing a song for me?”

  She grinned. “Sure, girlfriend.”

  “Actually, it’s not for me. It’s for Paula. She was here last year. One of the girls Stan raped. And she was here last week, too, to testify. She really wanted to meet you. And I told her she could, but when Stan escaped she went home. So I thought maybe you could sing a song for her. And she could watch it on YouTube and hear that it was dedicated to her.”

  “Of course,” Mackenzie said. “What song do you want?”

  “The one about things getting better? Being strong and hanging on and waiting for things to get better?”

  “You got it,” Mackenzie said. “We’ll do it after this one. I’ll tell Austin.” She ambled off across the little stage, the heels of her boots banging against the worn wood of the floor, and her skirt swaying around her thighs.

  I turned and headed back to Ty, although I stopped beside Quinn on my way past and leaned down. “Get a room.”

  She didn’t shriek and jump, as I had halfway hoped. Instead, she just turned to me. “We have a room. With a view and a king size bed and everything.”

  “Way to rub it in,” I said. “Ty and I are sharing a postage stamp.”

  “That’s what happens when you get involved with the law,” James told me, in that snooty, upscale accent of his.

  Quinn wrinkled her brows. “
You can come stay at the Cove Suites, you know. I’m sure they’d find a room for you.”

  I wasn’t. Not in the middle of Spring Break. “That’s OK. We’re happy where we are.”

  “You sure?” Quinn said.

  “I’m positive. Carry on.”

  I walked away, while they went back to what they’d been doing. They might as well just go home, because there was no way they had any idea what was going on around them.

  I was just sitting down next to Ty when Mackenzie began the windup for the song I had asked for. “This one goes out to Cassie,” she said; I arched my brows, “and to her friend Paula in Wisconsin, who couldn’t be here with us tonight. It’s gonna be all right, baby. Just stay strong and hold on and wait for things to get better.”

  As she began singing, and as the crowd was swaying back and forth—just as much due to being shitfaced drunk as to the music—Ty reached over and took my hand. “Cassie.”

  I smiled at him. “Ty. Thanks for staying.”

  The trial had been concluded a couple of days ago. He should probably have gone back to Quantico or wherever he reported in between assignments. But instead he’d decided to spend the rest of the week with me, in that cramped little room at Richardson’s Motel. Just the two of us, a miniscule shower, and a bed.

  We’d spent a lot of time in that bed, and not just because there was nowhere else to sit.

  “I had some time saved up,” Ty said. “Cassie—”

  “Well, I appreciate it. I’m sure there’s another assignment lined up you have to take. They probably have something in mind already. Did you postpone a job for me?”

  He shrugged, which I took to mean yes. If he hadn’t, he probably would have said so.

  “Where are you going next?”

  “Chicago,” Ty said.

  I blinked. “You’ve already been to Chicago.”

  “And now I’m going back.”

  “But... I thought you left Chicago. You know, after...?”

  He shook his head. “I never left. I just stayed away from you. I figured you needed time.”

  I guess I had needed time. Time to realize that being without him wasn’t any easier than being with him. More distance didn’t make the worry any easier to take. And it would take a lot more than not officially being his girlfriend anymore to make me stop caring about what happened to him.

  “I won’t be doing undercover work forever,” he told me, while Mackenzie sang about staying strong and holding on and waiting for things to get better. “In a couple years, I’ll be too old. I’ll join the profilers and spend my time sitting at a desk. The most dangerous thing I’ll be doing, is interviewing a serial killer while he’s safely behind bars.”

  “Like in Silence of the Lambs?” Because that sounded dangerous to me.

  “Nothing like in Silence of the Lambs,” Ty said firmly. “Very boring.”

  If he said so.

  He shook his head. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Cassie. I can’t offer you anything. I mean, I could, but...”

  “Anything?”

  “Marriage,” Ty said. “I can’t offer to marry you. I mean, I guess I could, but...”

  I looked at him—he guessed he could?—and he blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s too soon, Cassie. We don’t know each other very well. We need more time together first. And you haven’t even finished college yet. You have no idea what’s out there. It’s a big world. And...”

  “I agree,” I said, before he could continue to list all the other reasons why he couldn’t propose and I couldn’t say yes. “You’re right. It’s too soon.” I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment. “I want to keep seeing you. But I’m not ready to get married.”

  “If you can just hold on a couple of years,” Ty said, “things will get better. I promise.”

  “I believe you.” When he looked at me like that, I’d believe anything he said.

  “Being involved with law enforcement is hard. And I understand if you don’t want to deal with it, but I thought maybe you’d give me another chance. Give us another chance. And see where we end up.”

  “I think I might be able do that,” I said, and leaned in to kiss him.

  Read other books by Jenna Bennett

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  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Jenna Bennett (Jennie Bentley) writes the Do It Yourself home renovation mysteries for Berkley Prime Crime and the Savannah Martin real estate mysteries for her own gratification. She also writes a variety of romance for a change of pace. Originally from Norway, she has spent more than twenty five years in the US, and still hasn’t been able to kick her native accent.

  For more information, please visit Jenna’s website.

  Want More Sex on the Beach?

  CHASING ME – Jennifer Probst

  It was supposed to be a love story...

  I knew she was out of my league but I didn’t care. Looking back, I wonder if I hadn’t pursued her, would things have turned out differently? Is it Fate that determines our choices in life? God? Free will? Or just plain old innate selfishness?

  I got her, of course. There hadn’t been a girl I wasn’t able to seduce. Problem was she seduced me right back, body, mind, and soul. She possessed me, tormented me, and showed me a world that was so bright and pure I was almost blinded.

  Didn’t she know after such a drug I could never settle for less? Didn’t she realize no matter how many times I screwed up, or broke her heart, or bent her to my will, I’d never be able to let her go?

  If I hadn’t known such intensity existed, would it have been better for both of us?

  True love, the real kind, isn’t nice and sweet and pure. No, it’s dirty, and sinful, and messy. It’s like ripping a chunk of flesh from your body and watching yourself bleed out in slow, helpless intervals until you thankfully pass out.

  This isn’t a love story. But it’s the only story I got.

  LOSING US – Jen McLaughlin

  When it all comes crashing down...

  Everything I thought I had with Austin Murphy--safety, stability, the normalcy I crave but my celebrity lifestyle rarely allows--was ripped away in one night. I wanted to surprise him, but the joke was on me. Now I don't know if I ever really knew him at all.

  Someone has to pick up the pieces...

  Mackenzie Forbes was everything I ever wanted and the one person I didn't deserve. When a past mistake costs me the girl I love, I'll do everything I can to get her back. We both have demanding careers and family secrets darkening our pasts, but I need Mackenzie in my future.

  Sometimes everything you have to give just isn't enough...

  Finding You

  A Sex on the Beach novella

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Bente Gallagher

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

  Photograph: Sergey P.

  Cover design: Sarah Hansen, OkayCreations.com

  Ebook designed and formatted by:

  www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9899434-9-9

  Magpie Ink

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Books by Jenna Bennett

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

&
nbsp; Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Want More Sex on the Beach?

  Copyright Notice