Chapter Twelve
Sensing the importance of his answer to her question, Nathan considered lying. But he wanted a relationship with Veronica based on trust, and that came from being honest. So he forced a calm into his voice he didn’t feel after seeing her apartment disturbed, and stroked her arms up and down with his hands.
“Do you?” Veronica asked. Hurt kindled in her eyes.
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
He saw relief flicker briefly across her face, then the anger returned. “Then why did you talk to him about me?”
“Let’s sit down and I’ll explain,” Nathan said, leading her to the sofa. She sank down beside him, her posture stiff.
“I went because I’m trying to find out what’s going on here.” He motioned around the apartment. “And if your old boyfriend or one of your clients isn’t responsible, then it must have to do with your past.”
“I think so, too,” Veronica said in a quiet voice.
He took her hand in his, but she remained tense. “I thought it might be helpful if the doctor could give me some information about your condition when they brought you in as a child.”
“You want to know if I’m a basket case,” she accused.
“No, that’s not it,” Nathan said. “I want to understand you, Veronica.” He ran his finger in a circle around her palm, speaking softly. “I want to help you.”
His comment silenced her. She simply stared at him in disbelief.
“That’s the truth.” He squeezed her hand between both of his. “I don’t know much about amnesia, especially when it results from childhood trauma. I hoped the doctor could help me understand it.” He paused, watching her face as her anger faded. “I also thought he might have remembered something you said that could help us.”
“That’s the reason I went,” Veronica admitted. “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing confidential,” Nathan said.
She smiled. “He didn’t tell me much, either, except that I blamed myself.”
“That’s probably normal for a child,” he said. “I know kids from divorced families who think it’s their fault.”
“I guess you’re right.” Veronica shivered, and Nathan warmed her hands between his. “I can’t help but think there’s more to it, though.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.” She leaned back against the sofa, her face weary.
Nathan drew her into his arms. “Don’t be angry with me, Veronica. I really want to understand you.” He caressed her back with his hands, easing the tension from her shoulders with his tender ministrations.
She gazed into his eyes. “I’m not angry. But it’s important to me that you believe me.”
Nathan cupped her face in the palms of his hands, his mouth a whisper away. “I do believe you. And we’re going to solve this together.” Lowering his head slowly, he inhaled her intoxicating scent and pressed his lips onto the soft edges of her mouth. “You’re not alone, Veronica. Not anymore.”
Seducing her with words felt so heavenly and so right, and as Veronica relaxed in his arms, he absorbed the excited shivers of her body into his soul. He loved her, with every breath and inch of his body and heart, and he intended to show her.
Her hands eagerly clutched him, and when she pulled at his clothes, he grinned and bit the sensitive area of her throat, pleasuring her with his tongue as he plunged inside her welcoming mouth and thrust his body against hers. She gripped his muscles and dug her fingernails into his skin, tugging him closer, and he slid her silken blouse down until he saw the soft crevice between her breasts, the glorious peaks already rising for his attention. Pushing her lace-covered bra down to expose her flesh, he laved her nipples until she cried out and begged for more.
“Nathan, please. I want you.”
“I want you, too, sweetheart.” With one quick movement he shoved her slacks down her thighs, his tongue tracing a pattern from her pelvis to her delicious toes. Then he feathered kisses along the insides of her thighs. She moaned and tried to pull him up. “No, let me love you,” he whispered against her soft delicate skin. She dug her hands in his hair, and he pushed her legs open to reveal the heart of her womanhood, then lowered his mouth and loved her until she writhed beneath him. Then he drank of her heat and reveled in the pleasure of her sweet taste.
“Please, oh, please, Nathan, I want to feel you.” Jerking off his clothes, he rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him. She straddled his thighs and the look of pure joy in her expression made him crazy. She tortured him with kisses.
Her tongue caressed him and her fingers gripped his buttocks until he jerked her hands away and pulled her over him. She straightened slowly, her breasts a beautiful vision as her long hair swept against her creamy skin. And when she sank onto his manhood he moaned and clung to her, kneading her breasts, rising up to suckle the rosy tips, then pulling her down harder and faster until they were both crying out in release.
Nathan tightened his arms possessively around her and closed his eyes. The moment was perfect. Feeling sated and still hot at the same time, he knew it would be another long night of lovemaking. He wished he’d never doubted her, wished he’d been able to say he believed her from the start, but he was too much of a detective not to question every aspect of a case. This time his investigation had led him to love.
Should he tell Veronica his feelings, or was she too confused to know what her feelings were? He was experienced enough to know danger heightened adrenaline and sexual interest, and it was easy for a cop and the person he was protecting to get involved. But usually it didn’t last. If she had feelings for him, would she still have them when things calmed down?
She turned to him with her dark eyes sparkling and threaded her hands in his hair. “You make me feel whole.”
Nathan hugged her to him, touched by her admission, then carried her to bed. He had never been happier, and he wanted to tell her, but not until the case was solved and there was nothing between them. Then she smothered his mouth with a mind-boggling kiss and he forgot to talk. And when dawn broke the next morning, and she was still sleeping in his arms, he lay there watching her, savoring every moment.
VERONICA AWOKE the next morning, patted the bed beside her and felt a moment’s disappointment when it was empty. Had Nathan left? Her heart stopped momentarily, and she realized the feeling was nothing compared to what she would feel if he left for good.
“Hi, sleepyhead.” Nathan grinned as he carried a tray into her room.
She tried to hide her surprise. “I thought you’d gone.”
“I’d never leave without saying goodbye.”
Veronica’s smile slipped and Nathan arched an eyebrow. “I told you I’m not going anywhere, darling. Trust me.” He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on her lips. “Now let’s eat.”
“Eat?” Veronica stared at the tray in surprise. “You made French toast?”
“Sure,” Nathan said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’m a man of many talents.”
Veronica laughed, wrapped the sheet around her and shoved her hair from her eyes. “Okay, sit.”
Nathan stretched out beside her. “Actually I’m so tired from slaving over the stove, I was hoping you’d feed me.”
His puppy-dog expression and sudden look of fatigue was so comical Veronica burst into laughter. “Okay, baby, open wide.”
Nathan did. And seconds later he had his mouth full, but the French toast sat untouched.
Several long minutes later, Veronica lay back, thoroughly sated and Nathan once again handed her the breakfast tray.
“It’s cold,” he said, feigning disappointment.
“I thought it was pretty hot myself,” Veronica said.
He laughed. “The food, silly.”
She nuzzled his neck. “It was worth it.”
Nathan kissed her soundly, then they both sipped juice and devoured the food. “Did you find out anything else yesterday?” Veronica asked.
<
br /> “I checked your father’s date book.”
“And?”
“And Gerald Jones and his grandmother both had appointments with him the week he died.”
“Gerald? He must have been a teenager then.”
“Eighteen. Sonny was a kid, closer to your age,” he said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “His grandmother said he talked with your father about a trust. But something about the way Gerald acted made me think I didn’t get the whole story.”
“Hmm.” Veronica tucked the sheet around her. “That gets us nowhere. We know my parents and Eli were friends.”
Nathan scratched his chin. “Yeah, but Eli’s mother acted suspicious to me, like she might be covering up something.”
“Really?” She furrowed her brow. “I had an interesting chat with her yesterday myself.”
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What happened?”
Veronica told him about Alma’s less-than-friendly phone call.
“What a witch,” Nathan said, chopping his toast into pieces.
“Snobbery’s everywhere,” she said. “Believe me, I know.”
“And politicians are the worst. Always worried about their image.”
“That’s what Gerald said. It must be awful at times.”
“It’s the life they choose.” Nathan squeezed her hand. “There’s one other family I need to talk to. And I’d like to talk to Daryl Scroggins again. He seemed reluctant for me to dig up the past.”
“I’d like to go with you,” Veronica said.
“Okay. You want the shower first?”
“Who says we have to take turns?”
Nathan laughed and motioned for her to lead the way, but as he crept off the bed, he heard a thump. Something slipped from between the mattress and boxspring and fell to the floor. A hypodermic syringe. He stared at it, his thoughts racing back to the first time he’d been called to Veronica’s apartment when she’d been attacked and they’d found a sleep-inducing drug in her system. She had insisted she hadn’t taken anything.
“Nathan?” When he looked up, Veronica stood beside him. He pointed to the syringe.
She gasped. “Where did that come from?”
“It must have been caught in the mattress. It fell out when we got up.”
“Well, what’s it doing here?” She leaned over and started to pick it up, but he ordered her not to touch it.
“Do you keep hypodermics here for any reason?”
“Of course not.” Her mouth dropped open as she realized the implications. “It’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before. I don’t even like needles.”
Nathan hurried to the kitchen, retrieved a plastic bag and sealed up the needle. When he went back to the bedroom, Veronica had her robe on and her arms folded. She glared at him. “You still suspect me?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to have it dusted for prints. Maybe it’s the missing clue we’ve been looking for.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember that night you were attacked?”
“I’ll never forget it.” Veronica shivered, and he hated that he’d reminded her of that horrible night.
“The report confirmed a sleep-inducing drug in your system. But you insisted you didn’t take any sleeping pills.”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, maybe someone helped you along.”
AFTER DROPPING OFF the needle at the lab, Nathan drove to Daryl Scroggins’s house. For a retired cop, he certainly seemed to have done well for himself. The thought hadn’t occurred to him the first time he’d visited Scroggins, but this time a seed of awareness niggled at his consciousness. How had Scroggins been able to retire and pay for this place on a cop’s salary?
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nathan asked as he parked and faced Veronica.
“Yes.” She gave him a brave smile.
“It can’t be easy for you to hear about your parents.”
“It isn’t,” Veronica said. “But it’s important I do. I’ve been running from it long enough.”
Nathan kissed her hand. “Remember, I’m here with you.”
When Scroggins saw Veronica and Nathan at his door, he tried to shut it.
“No, you don’t.” Nathan wedged the door open with his foot. “We have some unfinished business, Scroggins.”
“I told you to leave the past alone,” Scroggins said, glaring at him and then Veronica.
“I don’t give a damn what you said,” Nathan barked. “I want some answers.” He nudged Veronica into the doorway. “And I think you owe Ms. Miller the truth.”
Beads of perspiration exploded on Scroggins’s forehead, and Nathan thought for a moment the man was going to have a heart attack. Scroggins pressed his hand over his chest and heaved for air.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Nathan said more calmly. “So why don’t we have a little chat, Scroggins.”
Scroggins dragged a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. Finally he waved them into his den. Nathan was struck again by the plush surroundings. “You sure did well for yourself when you retired,” Nathan said casually. He met Scroggins’s gaze. “Must have had some investments on the side.”
Scroggins glared at him and settled his round body into a chair, then picked up a glass of whiskey and downed it.
Veronica seated herself in a chair. She knotted her hands in her lap as her gaze swept the surroundings. Several photos of the Jones family caught Nathan’s eye. He focused on an eight-by-ten of Scroggins accepting some kind of award. The senator was congratulating him. So…they were close.
Scroggins was probably in the senator’s pocket.
“I want to know everything you know about the Millers’ deaths,” Nathan said.
Scroggins gestured toward Veronica. “Is that what you want, little Missy?”
“My name is Veronica, Mr. Scroggins. And yes, I want to know. Everything.”
Scroggins winced at her irritated tone, then rubbed his balding spot. “Well, there ain’t much to tell that ain’t already been said. I got a call, disturbing the peace. Raced over to your place.”
“How long did it take you to get there?” Nathan asked.
Scroggins thought for a minute. “I’d say about fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Nathan asked incredulously. “Then someone else could have been there and left?”
“I know that,” Scroggins said. “But there wasn’t any evidence to prove it. Believe me, I looked.”
“So, you deemed it a murder-suicide?” Veronica asked.
“Wasn’t nothing else I could do.”
Nathan kept one eye on Scroggins while glancing around the room. “You wouldn’t be covering up for someone, would you?”
Scroggins bolted up from the chair. “What the hell are you implying?”
“That someone paid you to keep quiet,” Nathan growled.
“I would never cover up murder,” Scroggins snarled back.
Nathan raised his brows in question. He saw Veronica shift uncomfortably. “What would you cover up?” she asked.
Scroggins’s long pause only confirmed his guilt.
“Answer her,” Nathan said. “If you don’t, I’ll make sure the lieutenant brings you in for questioning. And you know how reporters in a small town can make that look.”
Scroggins dropped into his chair, looking defeated. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. “The report on your parents was accurate,” Scroggins said. He looked at Veronica with such remorse that Nathan found it hard to believe he wasn’t telling the truth. “I really did try to find out who killed them. But there wasn’t any evidence. And once reporters got wind of the fact that you were holding the bloody knife…well…”
“You let them believe it was a murder-suicide to protect me?”
Veronica’s face paled. He hadn’t considered the fact that Scroggins had protected Veronica.
“I knew you were too little to do such a thing. But the media thought it was a gr
eat story, and I’ve seen the way they do things before. They can’t convict you through the paper, but they can ruin your life.” Scroggins exhaled loudly. “I figured you’d been through enough already. If I couldn’t find the killer, least I could do was let you off the hook from those leeches. And if the killer was still around, I was afraid he’d come after you.”
Veronica dabbed at her eyes, and Nathan fought the temptation to comfort her. She straightened her shoulders, and once again he admired her fortitude. “Thank you, Mr. Scroggins,” she said. “I appreciate what you did.”
“You realize Veronica’s life may be in danger now,” Nathan said. “She may have seen the real murderer. If there’s anything you can tell us that will help, we need to know.”
Scroggins folded his fingers in his lap. “I did cover up something, but I didn’t think it was connected to the murder. I ain’t proud of it, but I didn’t see any harm at the time.”
“What?”
“I think I know the person who might have burned Miller’s files.”
Veronica’s eyes widened. “Who? Why would someone do that?”
“That’s just it. It didn’t have anything to do with your parents’ death.”
“Explain, Scroggins,” Nathan said.
“I had a theory but I never could prove it. This little teenager in the town got pregnant. She’d been to see your daddy, Ms. Miller.”
“For what?”
“A paternity suit?” Nathan guessed.
Scroggins nodded.
Nathan snapped his fingers. “Let me guess—Susan Pritchard?”
Scroggins poured himself another drink. “She was just a young little thing. Turned out files didn’t even need to be burned.”
“Why is that?” Nathan asked.
“Little gal died in a car wreck a few days later. No one would ever have known about the baby.”
“And who do you think burned the files, the baby’s father?” Veronica asked.
Scroggins leaned on his knees. “Seems logical.”
“Who was the father?” Nathan asked, losing his patience.
“You’d have to ask the girl’s parents.”
“Come on, you have an idea,” Nathan said.
Men Made in America Mega-Bundle Page 116