Toxic

by Debra Jupe

  He gently placed her on her heels. She grabbed the edge of the truck’s bed, balancing on one leg, holding her wounded foot off the ground. A hand slid across her rump, gliding into her short’s pocket, then out again.

  “What are you doing?”

  Ethan held up her keychain.

  She snatched the dangling metal from his fingers. “I can drive.” She glanced around. “Where is your pick-up?”

  “Safely hidden.” He held out a flattened palm, his expression irritated. “Give me.” Reluctantly, she handed her set of keys to him. He helped her inside, buckling her into the seat, speeding around to the driver’s side, started the truck and backed onto the road.

  “Where are we going?”

  He remained quiet for several seconds. “Your place?”

  She slid down into her seat. She’d regret this, but she was too involved now. “You just cancelled out your paybacks.”

  ****

  The ride to her house was silent. Neither spoke a word after he turned over her vehicle. The only sound was the blowing of cool air through the vents. Ethan appeared lost in his own thoughts, and Gracie teetered between concentrating on her swollen ankle and wondered again who the hell Ethan McCarthy was.

  She needed to find out. “Why are you so secretive?”

  “What?”

  “How come you won’t reveal anything about yourself? We’ve been close, right?”

  “We had sex.” He hesitated. “I hate to sound heartless because being naked with you was out of this world, but that’s all it was supposed to be.”

  She swallowed, doing her best to ignore the implication they were nothing but unpremeditated, except when everything was stripped down, that’s exactly what they were. Casual.

  “Yes, except now things are different. I’m helping you, and I deserve to know about you.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “You didn’t refuse it either.”

  A long silence settled. Gracie feared the conversation was over, and she wouldn’t learn any more than she already had.

  “Some things I can answer, there are others I can’t, but go ahead.” He stretched to adjust an air vent. “You’re going to anyways.”

  “Why aren’t you talking to the police?”

  “I got a feeling they want to arrest me.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if you tackled this situation head on?”

  “No.”

  Gracie waited for him to elaborate, but he stayed quiet. His discreetness didn’t stop her. She was determined to discover something about him.

  “What company do you work for?”

  “Institute of Management Consultants. Original, I get it. We’re based out of Canada.”

  “Are you from Canada?”

  “Born there, and I’ve lived in the area for my first two years, but I grew up in Corpus Christi, which I consider my hometown. As an adult, I’ve traveled quite a bit. I served in the military, Army for six years. I believe I mentioned I was in Afghanistan. Anything else?”

  “Ever married?”

  “Nope. My work keeps me away a lot. In case you’re wondering, I don’t have a place I call home, so it wouldn’t be fair to do that to any woman.”

  “Where do you keep your stuff?”

  “I don’t have a lot, but most goes with me. The rest—” he shrugged “—stays at my brother’s.”

  “Do you think about settling down?”

  He stared out the windshield, seemingly lost at the sun reflection bouncing off the truck’s hood. “I’m not good for any woman.”

  “Why?”

  “Bad home life growing up. My parents stayed together, still are. They fight like crazy. We never had calm. Our situation was volatile. My brothers and I either ducked to avoid flying vases or hid in our rooms to stay out of the line of fire. I refuse to put anyone through that.”

  “You don’t have to. You can learn from their mistakes.”

  “Did you learn from yours?”

  “From my divorce? I’m trying to, but—”

  “Not what I’m talking about, Gracie,” he interrupted. “You’re not the kind of woman who sleeps around, therefore, I suggest you be more selective to whom you bring home.”

  “You mean I should be careful of you?”

  “You need to be wary of everyone.”

  “So you’re a mistake?”

  “Yet to be determined.”

  “Do you know who killed Mike?”

  There was a slight pause before he answered, “No.” After another hesitation, he asked. “Any more questions?”

  “Just one. How old are you.”

  “Thirty.” He grinned. “And you?”

  “I’m done.”

  “You’re forty.”

  Gracie gazed at him through narrowed eyes. “How did you know?”

  “Did my research.” His grin widened. “Krystal told me.”

  “Wait till I see her.”

  “It’s only a number, Gracie. Now, my turn.” He stopped. “What’s your story?”

  “My parents are Eleanor and Max Desoto. I’m named after my mother but go by our middle name. They’re wonderful. They retired and live on a golf course. I also have a perfect younger sister, Kylie.”

  He shot her a side glance. “No malice there.”

  “I’m speaking the truth. She’s one of those people that can do no wrong. My folks are good people who think she’s great. They view me as more of a screw up, but in an affectionate way.”

  “How can that be? You’ve started and run a very successful business. You can hold your own with anyone.”

  “My parents don’t relate my work success to being victorious. Kylie married a CEO of a huge insurance company. She’s a stay at home, soccer mom with four awesome kids. My folks see me as a failure because my marriage didn’t work, and my son Mason acted out a bit during our breakup period. They believe the reason my domesticated life didn’t do well was because I chose to work outside the home.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Just how they are.”

  “Okay. Then let’s discuss your big imperfection. Your ex. He’s not still pining after you, is he? The last thing I need is some crazy former spouse wanting to kick my ass for messing around with his ex-wife.”

  She held up a palm with a grimace. “Trust me, not an issue.”

  “Okay. How come? Guys gotta be a fool to let you get away.”

  “Thanks.” She blushed and dipped her chin. “I married my high school sweetheart. Thought it was a forever thing. We went through a rough patch. He decided I didn’t love him anymore, didn’t want our marriage. He even went as far as to accuse me of finding someone else.”

  “Any of it true?”

  “Not from my perspective. His on the other hand…”

  “So in other words he was projecting his feelings on you as a way to leave the marriage.”

  “Exactly. For a while, I think he managed to convince some, but as always, the truth comes to light.”

  “Did he ever admit his transgression?”

  “Nope. He still claims it was all me. Although I’ve barely left the house since our break up. Him, on the other hand, well let’s just say he hasn’t been lonely.”

  “You’re better without him.”

  “I think so. I just wish things were easier on our son. He’s in college now, but he was home when this all went down, and he got to see the worst of both of us. It makes me sad.”

  “You and your son survived. My gut tells me you’re better for what you’ve experienced. I’m betting your son sees that, too.”

  “He’s stated he doesn’t want to be like his father. He wants to be a good man.”

  “That’s great. You deserve a good man, too.”

  She turned to him. “Are you a good man, Ethan?”

  “How’s the ankle?”

  Once they arrived at her house, he drove the truck into her garage, the door shut tight before he shut off the motor. �
��Stay put,” he told her as he stepped out.

  He rushed to her. She already had her side opened. He scooped her in his arms, carefully maneuvering her crowded garage to carry her inside. Once in, he sat her on the sofa and removed her shoe. He lowered next to her on the couch, sitting by her elevated leg, placing it on a sofa pillow and inspected the wound.

  “You do have some swelling, but I don’t think it’s anything serious. No bruising. Ice ought to bring the puffiness down. You’ll be as good as new tomorrow.” He rose. “Where do you keep your ice bag?”

  Her brows knitted.

  He gave her a disbelieving look. “Don’t tell me you don’t own one as accident prone as you are.”

  “I did. But I lost it in the divorce.”

  “Your ex got the ice bag when your marriage broke-up? Did you put up a fight for it?”

  “Stewart’s a doctor. All medical stuff went with him. He even took a half filled aspirin bottle.”

  “What have you used since he left?”

  “A plastic sandwich bag.”

  “If I wasn’t in trouble, I’d go to the pharmacy and buy you a new pack.”

  Gracie shuffled uneasily in her spot. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

  “The kind as in the less you know the better.” He paused. “Where do you keep your sandwich bags?”

  “You’re not involved in Mike’s death, are you?” she blurted.

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “Never mind, I’ll find them.”

  He clomped into the kitchen leaving Gracie more confused. If he didn’t know anything about Mike murder, why not come out and say so. But then again if he did, would he tell her? So that would mean…what? He had information; he was protecting someone. He did it?

  She didn’t want to consider the final alternative. While she couldn’t say she knew him, she did understand a part of him. She just wished she believed in her instincts, because they told her he was a good man. Since the Stewart fiasco, her trust radar tilted off kilter, therefore she doubted she’d ever rely on blind faith again.

  She stretched across the end table for the remote and flipped on the TV, muting the volume. A recent picture of Mike filled the screen. Gracie gasped, a palm slapped over her mouth. The next slide showed a younger photo of Ethan dressed in his military uniform. Though the sound was turned down, the implication screamed.

  A rattling noise startled her. She spun around. Ethan stood beside her, holding a plastic bag loaded with ice. He grimaced at the television.

  “Mystery solved now, eh, Ms. D?” He bent to remove the remote from her hand. “Mind if we check the baseball scores?”

  Chapter 13

  Ethan flinched at the sight of his image displayed on the television screen. He glanced at Gracie. “I guess it’s official,” he said dryly. “I’m a wanted man.”

  “You can’t be sure. I don’t have the sound on.”

  Ethan stared at her. He gestured at the TV. “My picture’s posted because I’m a suspect. Why are you making excuses? You should throw me out or call the cops.”

  “I can’t do either.” She pointed at her swollen ankle she’d propped onto a sofa pillow. “Thought you wanted to check the ball scores.”

  He pressed the remote and switched off the television, happy to not see his photo splashed over the screen. He stood beyond her and studied the blank monitor, trying to disregard that he’d just been outed as a possible murder suspect. A missing, possible murder suspect.

  “How are things coming with the ice?”

  He glanced at the cold plastic sandwiched between his hands. “Oh,” then strolled to where she lay. He placed a kitchen towel he’d found on the counter over her ankle, and easily situated the frozen bag across the swollen area. She jerked.

  He smiled. “Cold?”

  “It’s ice. What do you think?”

  “Here.” He tossed a bag of chocolate into her lap. “Thought this might help.”

  “Thanks.” Gracie raised her chin as she removed a bit of candy from the bag. “I don’t believe you killed anyone.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “You hardly know me.”

  “I trust my instincts.”

  “Of course you do.”

  She made a face, then popped the candy into her mouth. “Okay, that’s not exactly the truth. You don’t behave like a murderer.”

  “You’ve met enough killers to understand how they act.”

  Perhaps he should accept her belief in him, but he couldn’t allow her to let him off the hook so easily. A stout nip of remorse seeped through him. He’d essentially used her for his personal gratification, and while she did the same with him, it didn’t relieve him of the guilt. Or his disgrace for utilizing her as a means of escape and her home to hideout from the authorities.

  “I refuse to accept that I’ve slept with somebody who killed another person.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted. “So this is more about your moral center as opposed to me offing my boss.”

  She had the decency to seem embarrassed. Her hands folded, she gazed at her lap without a word.

  “Not that I blame you. Just about everyone’s had sex with someone they wished they hadn’t.”

  She lifted her head, her eyes bore into his. “That’s not the way I feel at all.”

  “What if I did kill Mike?”

  “Are you confessing?”

  “I’m playing devil’s advocate.”

  “I can’t live with regrets,” she said evenly as she unwrapped another candy bite. “What’s done is done. All I can do is move on. Make sure to not repeat my mistakes.”

  “So you made a mistake sleeping with me.” His heart almost stopped. In most instances he wouldn’t care if a woman considered being carnal with him a lapse in judgment. Yet, for some odd reason, he hoped she’d never view him as a gaffe.

  “You sort of implied it earlier.”

  “Not from my perspective. I’m talking about yours.” He smiled at the comforted look on her face as the candy melted in her mouth. “Let’s say I’m not a murderer. I’m curious as to your opinion regarding our weekend beyond the ‘what’s done is done’ attitude.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d gone there. Why did he care what she thought?

  They fucked. It was good. Move on. Yet, here he was, holding his breath, hoping for a positive response. He sat down on the sofa next to her, snitching a piece of candy while he waited for her answer, glad she didn’t slap his hand away from her bag of sweets.

  She hesitated, as if considering her reply. “We’re consenting adults. We didn’t do anything wrong, so I don’t view our time together as a mistake.” She stopped and stared at him in the eye. Her tongue slowly traced her upper lip. “Nor do I feel any regret for helping you today, even if I’ve stepped outside the law.”

  He briefly wondered again why she’d shown up at his house. He quickly dismissed the thought and focused on the sudden urge to kiss her hard, and then allow nature to take its course.

  “So do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Sex?”

  “Sex?” she squealed. “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t—we’ve been debating if our sleeping together was in error. You seemed to want to elaborate.”

  “You thought I’d be interested in discussing a play by play of our bedroom antics? Compare point scores maybe?”

  “I’m off topic?”

  “Way, way off.”

  God, he should keep his mouth shut. Better yet, why he hadn’t bypassed her when he’d noticed her nosing around his property. He knew the land well, and he could’ve easily slipped by her, even hotwired her truck, to use as an escape. Yeah, she may have gotten caught by the county Mounties, or worst case scenario by his other unwelcomed guest, but he’d been careful to keep her knowledge of him limited. Unless she confessed, they wouldn’t even be aware she’d trespassed. She’d be in the clear, and he’d be rid of her.

/>   So why didn’t he just leave her alone?

  “You men.” She gave her head a solid shake. “I’m offering to talk about your current situation. The one where you’re hiding from the police.”

  “The less you know the better,” he told her again in a quiet voice. “I would like an explanation, though. Why did you help me?”

  Her clasped hands visibly gripped tighter.

  “Gracie? I’m guessing you showed up at my home because you suspected I might be in trouble, though I doubt you thought this through.”

  She raised her chin to meet his gaze.

  “So what’s your reason for helping me? Things would have been a lot easier on you if you’d yelled for the police.”

  “I considered it.”

  A little ting of disappointed trickled through him.

  “Two attempts have been made on your life in the past week, correct?”

  “One I consider inadvertent and lame, because really? I’d like to believe anyone paying attention would escape a runaway tractor.” He grinned. “Present company excluded. Still, my gut tells me the effort was aimed at me. Or at least invoked to send me a message.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “I think someone wants me out of dodge.”

  “My point. If the killer is after you, why would you murder Mike? Doesn’t make sense.”

  He hoped the police bought into her argument. In the beginning he’d agreed with Mike to not bring in the authorities, but certain things couldn’t be ignored. He didn’t believe Sheriff Bud, Mike’s good buddy would be a source of aid, seeing as he doubted the life-threatening endeavors were fully discussed, if at all.

  “I hope once this is over you’ll be as understanding,” he said.

  “If you’re honest with me. Why does someone want you out of the way, or worse have you killed?”

  Good question. One he needed to set aside some time to figure that out. He must get his head on straight to do that and find a way out of this mess. Being around her only incited turmoil. His normally cool interior rotated like a cyclone of chaos in her presents.

  Ethan pushed off the sofa, glanced at his filthy clothes, then looked back at her white couch. He released a quiet sigh, glad he hadn’t left any dirt on the cushions. He wished he had a place to clean up. She’d allow him to use her shower, except he’d be unable to go into the stall alone. As much as the idea appealed, sex with her again was off the table. Literally.