Bodychecking

by Jami Davenport

He’d ruffled her feathers, but he let it go. At least he’d gotten a reaction out of her. “No, I don’t, but I’m here to help you move past it. Whatever it takes, I’m here for the long haul.”

  She turned her head slightly and gazed up at him. His eyes focused on those incredible lips. They parted slightly, which he took as an offer. He lowered his head. Starting at one corner of her lips and working his way to the other corner, he planted gentle little kisses on her lower lip. He slid his tongue inside, telling her with this kiss what she really meant to him. With Bella everything had always been smoking hot and out-of-control physical, never gentle until lately, so this was new territory for both of them. Her tongue stroked his and he tamped down the urge to let his passion ignite into hot lust. Instead he deepened the kiss, showing her how good they’d be together if she’d only give him a chance.

  He closed his eyes and lived in the moment, and what an incredible moment it was. He inhaled her sweet scent, tasted her mouth, relished the feel of her body pressed against his. Drawing back, she fisted her hands in his hair, panting, her eyes dilated, looking like the Bella he’d seen many a wondrous time before. He so wanted to add to those memories.

  And he was adding to them, but not in sexual sense. He might have been a player and a manwhore, but he wasn’t a complete ass, and he cared for her way too much and honestly believed she would feel the same if she gave them a chance.

  She tried to kiss him again, but he held her away from him. He shook his head, struggling for the words to explain how he was feeling without coming across as an insensitive jerk.

  “I’m sorry. I’m being a flake.” She averted her eyes as if she were ashamed.

  “You aren’t, and I’ll never take it any further than you want to go.” It’d kill him in twenty different torturous ways, but he’d do it.

  Cedric would do anything for his Bella. And, damn it, she was his, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

  Chapter 9—In the Majors

  Over a week later, on the first Friday in February, Bella sat at the breakfast nook with Riley, proofreading his English paper. Izzy was party crashing, Cedric and Cooper had left on another road trip, and Bella had volunteered to keep an eye on Riley. Not that he was in need of a babysitter, but Cooper believed it was best to keep a semi-short leash on the teenager so he understood boundaries and consequences, something Bella wouldn’t know about. Her parents never had rules, boundaries, or any kind of structure in their lives or their children’s.

  Yet her mother noticed more than Bella gave her credit for. Fawn’s words rang in her ears, and Bella recognized the truth behind them. She’d promised Fawn and herself she’d find her purpose and stick with it. Now she needed to figure out what her purpose was. Holing up in the studio apartment and pretending the world didn’t exist and everything was fine while gorging on ice cream and writing a book she’d never publish wasn’t going to fulfill that promise, unless she planned to open a combo book and ice cream store.

  She’d settled into an odd routine with Cedric. Every night he didn’t have a home game, he had dinner at her house. They watched a movie or a hockey game. He’d leave by midnight. It was strangely platonic, but Bella needed his friendship right now, more than she needed his body. He never pressured her, and with the exception of holding hands and a lot of hot kissing, he kept his hands to himself. Though she did catch his eyes roaming hungrily over her body on more than one occasion.

  Bella was frustrated, feeling as if she’d stalled and wasn’t making any progress in her recovery. If anything, she’d become complacent with her current situation. She’d written almost seventy thousand words in the first draft of her novel and was almost dreading nearing the end. Then what would she do? Start another book she’d never publish? Or edit the crap out of this one?

  Bella felt Riley’s eyes on hers. She looked into those old eyes of his, which completely contradicted his fresh-faced, boy-next-door appearance. Riley was a knockout, and she was pretty certain he had girls hanging all over him. In the few hours they’d been sitting at this table, his phone beeped with text messages or rang so many times, Bella made him turn it off. When she asked who was calling, he simply said girls. Bella knew exactly which girl Riley wanted to hear from and most likely hadn’t.

  She made a mental note to make a trip out to the barn to talk to Tiff, maybe play a little matchmaker and give the girl a person to talk to who’d been through trauma of her own. Maybe it would help both of them.

  “Your paper is really good. So don’t worry.” Bella pushed his laptop across the table to him. “I made a few comments and notes. Other than that, I bet you get an A.”

  “I’m not worried—about that.” Riley continued to study her.

  “What are you worried about?” Bella sat back and sipped her wine while Riley took a long gulp of his Pepsi.

  “You.”

  Bella laughed. “Me? Why are you worried about me?”

  “Somebody needs to be,” he said, sounding way too grown up for his fifteen years.

  “Well, thank you. I’m flattered, but I have plenty of people who worry about me, and I’m sure you have better places to focus your energies.” She should’ve known he’d hear about the attack. There weren’t any secrets in this family once one sister got wind of something. It wasn’t that long ago when Bella would’ve been the one right in the middle of things, talking big, feeling all superior, and now—well, now, not so much.

  “I know how it feels,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands and fidgeting.

  Bella opened her mouth, and shut it, deciding to let him have his say.

  “Every time I hear a loud noise, it takes me back there. I can smell the blood in the air. I never realized how much blood smelled until I was in the middle of a lot of it. I can still see their cold, emotionless eyes as they pointed their guns and shot, picking off my friends and teammates with precision. It was fucking scary. I resigned myself to dying that day.”

  Bella reached out and grabbed his hand. It was cold. She squeezed it. “You don’t need to relive the shooting for my benefit.”

  “I do. It’s healthy for me to talk about it.” His smile was shaky. “You know what the worst thing was?”

  “What?” Bella asked, her heart aching for him.

  “I’d never told Uncle Coop and Izzy how much they meant to me. I didn’t want to die without telling them. So I prayed. I’d never prayed before. Never been in a church, or even thought much about God, but I prayed. Jacob pointed the gun at me and laughed. I froze, and I waited for the end. I wondered if it would hurt or if it would be over with quickly. I wondered if there really was life after death. All this shit ran through my mind in that one instant, which lasted a lifetime. He cocked the gun, started to squeeze the trigger, and swung it at the last second to my friend sitting next to me. The noise deafened me. Part of his brains splattered on my coat.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Ry.” She patted his shoulder.

  He shrugged. “It’s made me stronger. I’ve been through some of the worst life can throw at a person, and I emerged, wounded and damaged, but I’m a better person for it. I’ll never be the same, but that’s okay. I have a new me now, hopefully a better me.” He looked up, meeting her gaze, his eyes troubled and intense. “That’s where you need to be.”

  This kid was too fucking wise for a teenager. Maybe he was repeating what his counselor had said. If he was, obviously he’d listened and taken her advice to heart.

  “Izzy said you won’t see my therapist. You should. She can help.”

  Bella shook her head. “I’m not ready yet.”

  “You never will be. You have to force yourself to go or have someone else force you.”

  “Thanks, Riley. I appreciate the insights. I really do.” Bella, master of avoidance of any deep and heavy subjects, steered the conversation back to Riley’s homework. “Izzy will have both our heads if you don’t finish this English assignment.”

  Riley sighed and rol
led his eyes in a typical teenage fashion. It was comforting to know he’d come that far. Then his face fell, and he frowned. Bella followed his gaze to the flat-screen.

  Murder in Downtown Seattle.

  Displayed on the TV was a rain-soaked, dark Seattle street surrounded by crime-scene tape. Bella knew the street well. It was a few blocks from O’Reilly’s, and an even shorter walk from where she’d been attacked.

  She leaned forward to hear what the news anchors were saying and everything inside her went so cold she swore she’d never be warm again. Meanwhile, an invisible elephant sat its big ass on her chest and squeezed the air from her lungs. She gasped, grappling for oxygen, but her lungs refused to push the air in and out.

  A young waitress in her twenties was found brutally beaten and murdered in a downtown Seattle alley. Authorities are looking for anyone with information regarding this woman who left O’Reilly’s Pub alone about three a.m. this morning.

  O’Reilly’s Pub. The same one she’d been in the night she’d been attacked. Could the victim be someone she knew?

  As if the newscaster had heard her, a picture of the woman was displayed on the screen along with the location of the murder. Bella recognized her as a waitress at O’Reilly’s, Carla Stark. She and Bella had shockingly similar features—same size, same hair color, same age range.

  Bella covered her hands over her face in absolute shock as she tried to process what couldn’t be processed. Maybe the murderer was Snake?

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bile rose in her throat, and she gagged as she fought to hold it back. Riley handed her a wet towel, which she immediately pressed to her forehead as she bent over and held her head between her legs.

  “Aunt Bella.” Riley touched her arm, but she was swimming underwater with no chance of rising to the surface. The TV blared on, and she heard the words but didn’t understand them.

  Finally, Riley shook her until she managed to sit and focus her gaze on him. “It’s him.” She spoke the words with a shaky voice while dread and fear gripped her throat.

  “How do you know?” He seemed as alarmed as she was.

  “I don’t know, but I just know. Everything seems so similar.” Frantically, she dug in her purse until she found the business card for the detective on her case. She called the number, which went straight to voice mail, and left a long, rambling message. Next, she called the police station, got put on hold for a lifetime, and finally hung up. She called again and was put on hold again.

  Frustrated and needing to do something, she shot up from the chair, knocking it to the floor with a clatter. “I’m going down there.”

  “Down where?” Riley slid her a sideways glance as if he considered her fucking cray-cray. And she probably looked fucking crazed right now.

  “The crime scene. I need to talk to the detective now before this fucker has a chance to hurt someone again.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Riley righted the chair and scratched his chin, watching her with wary concern.

  “Maybe it isn’t, but I have to talk to somebody. I just do.” Bella headed for the door.

  “I’m going with you.” Riley grabbed his coat and caught up with her.

  Bella balked. She couldn’t take him. She couldn’t put Riley in harm’s way. Yet, she had no intention of confronting anyone. She needed to see for herself where this had happened. Driving by the area of the murder shouldn’t be dangerous. “I can’t take you,” she said finally.

  Riley snorted and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we’re going to hunt this jerk down.”

  Bella shook her head. Riley didn’t need to be involved in her messes.

  “Seriously, Bella, you can’t go by yourself. What if you freak out or something, and no one is there to talk you down? Trust me, I know all about that.” He watched her, tapping his toe impatiently on the hardwood floor in the most annoying manner.

  Bella was certain he did. “But, Riley,” she hedged, searching for a better argument.

  “I’m expecting a chocolate milkshake at Dick’s Drive-In when we’re done.” Not waiting for her answer, Riley pulled on his coat and headed for the door. Stubborn brat. He was definitely Cooper’s nephew.

  Bella hung back, certain she’d go to hell for this along with several other transgressions. With a sigh, she followed him out the door.

  A few minutes later, Bella drove carefully down rain-slickened streets, startling each time she saw a man in a hoodie, even while knowing her fear was ridiculous. She was in a car with the doors locked. Even so she fished her pepper spray out of her purse and placed it in her lap. Riley shot a quick glance her way but said nothing.

  “You’re not going to tell Izzy and Coop about our little excursion, are you?” Bella asked, now wallowing in well-deserved guilt. Going to the murder scene with her teenage charge was a fucking stupid idea.

  He leveled her one of those exasperated looks only a teenager can give. “Are you suggesting I lie to them?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  Riley shrugged and replied, “If it comes up, I’ll tell them we drove by on our way for milkshakes.” Craning his neck, he pointed to a side street in the direction of a lone blinking blue light. “Down there.”

  Bella turned, slowing down her car and gripping the Mace in one hand. A police car was parked near the crime scene, and two beat cops were standing nearby, deep in discussion.

  Bella slowed on the empty street and rolled down her window. The female uniformed cop turned to regard her suspiciously. She was model-beautiful with perfect bone structure and gorgeous eyes and a tall, lean body, yet she needed a few lessons in ironing her clothes, putting on makeup, and finding the perfect size for her. Bella noticed stuff like that. Probably too much.

  “Excuse me,” Bella’s voice shook as much as her hands.

  The woman walked over to her, slightly annoyed. “Yes, ma’am?”

  Bella almost cringed. She hated being called “ma’am.” It reminded her of how old she was. “I was attacked in this neighborhood several weeks ago. I think it would’ve been worse if a homeless man hadn’t spooked him.”

  The woman leaned in the window. Her bored gaze shot to Riley and back to Bella. “What’s your name, and I’ll alert the detectives on the case.”

  “Bellani Maxwell.”

  She scribbled something on a note pad and turned to walk away, dismissing them.

  “Officer, please tell me one thing?” Bella called out the window. “Did she have an S carved in her left breast?”

  “We don’t discuss details of an ongoing investigation. If the detectives see any similarities, I’m sure they’ll be contacting you.” The officer returned to her partner, and both officers proceeded to ignore them.

  Bella drove home at the speed of a ninety-year-old, not stopping for that shake she’d promised Riley. He didn’t say anything, but he did reach over and pat her hand. “It’ll be okay, Aunt Bells. They’ll catch him.”

  Bella nodded, fighting off the bile rising in her throat. Her attacker might have killed this woman. Bella had been lucky. This other woman wasn’t.

  “You did your part. You reported what you knew. Several times.”

  Bella nodded slowly. Reporting him didn’t give her much comfort. Their victim had been a single mother of a two-year-old. Somehow Bella felt responsible for at least a portion of what had happened, even though she recognized the ridiculousness of such guilt.

  Riley watched her with his old eyes and said nothing further. When they arrived home, he went to bed while Bella sat in the living room watching old movies and gripping her pepper spray.

  * * * *

  Feeling ridiculously clingy and paranoid, Cedric corralled his panic. Bella had probably gone to bed early. That’s all. He tried one more text message as he lay on his queen bed in another anonymous hotel room. If it wasn’t for his obsessive film study of the Sockeyes’ next opponent, he probably wouldn’t recall what city they were currently in.

  Leaning back against the pillows,
he tried to entertain himself by flipping through the channels. His phone beeped, and he leapt for it, almost falling off the bed.

  Hi, long night babysitting Riley. Will call in a.m.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as some asshole started pounding on his door. He flipped off the TV and lay quiet, hoping they’d go away. They didn’t. Resigned to his fate, Cedric opened the door. Rush and Brick spilled in, followed by Cooper. Brick held a pizza box high over his head as if he were a waiter balancing a tray of drinks.

  “It’s fucking midnight,” Cedric growled. He shot Coop, who seemed smugly pleased with himself, an accusatory death glare. The bastard had put the guys up to this.

  “The boys wanted a pizza before they called it a night,” Cooper said with not an ounce of apology. In fact, the dickwad smirked.

  “And since when do you do what the boys want?”

  Coop shrugged a shoulder and snagged a large piece of pizza dripping with cheese and mounded with toppings. Cedric’s stomach growled, and he licked his lips. He’d been so preoccupied with worry over Bella, he hadn’t realized he was starving until he smelled the pizza. Now he was ravenous.

  Pointing with his pizza slice, Brick, clad only in a pair of shorts, grinned. “I told you, Smooth is lovesick. He’s been lying here pining for his woman rather than joining his compatriots for dinner.”

  “Compatriots? That’s a damn big word for you, Brick.”

  Cedric’s insult was met with raucous laughter. He ignored the idiots. His eyes locked on the pizza, which was going fast, and his stomach demanded action. Brick was already on his third slice, and Rush was a two-hander. Coop had finished his first and was eyeing a second. Cedric dived in, grabbing two slices for himself. He wolfed them down in an uncharacteristically messy fashion, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

  They devoured the pizza like piranhas, talking between bites about hockey. Finally, Brick yawned and Rush’s eyelids drooped. The kids partied hard and collapsed harder.

  Scratching under his arm, Brick stood. “Night, Caps.”

  “Night,” Coop said.