by Lisa Aurello
“Oh, yeah, and her perfect straight nose was broken pretty badly from her death fall. It was twisted to one side and packed tight with blood. Apparently, her heart was still pumping for a bit after her brain was pulverized.
“Her poor mother—she was distraught to begin with, naturally. But seeing her daughter look like someone else… someone horribly deformed… it provided that extra kick in the gut for her. Just think about that for a second. When you’re up close and personal with the consequences of these crimes, it makes it real hard to sympathize with the person responsible. Real fucking hard.”
“But Jane’s not responsible, Rob. I mean, she can’t be. She’s a good person.” Though she tried for ardent instead of defensive, even Mel could hear the discordant tone in her voice. It felt like a fight… Rob felt like an adversary.
His green eyes blazed as he moved his face closer to her. Too close. “You do not know that, not for sure. The fact is your friend is under investigation as the possible instigator of a vicious crime. If she’s guilty then she’s not all that good, now is she?”
Mel emptied the air in her lungs in one weighted whoosh, already exhausted by the conversation and effectively ending it by refusing to utter another syllable. Rob finally moved back into his own space, sitting on the edge of his seat, his knee bouncing. She could see the spark in his eyes awaiting re-ignition, challenging her to keep fighting him on this. Mel refused to give him the pleasure. Instead, she threw her hands in the air. “Whatever. I’m done talking about it. Let’s just watch the rest of the movie.”
Sitting next to him but a million miles away, Mel stewed in her own pissed-off juices. Although the option of abandoning Jane when she needed her most was not one she would consider—and he had to know it—they continued with their shitty evening. She brought back the coffees—actually made fresh ones—and they silently watched the rest of the film.
By the time the credits rolled, Mel had a pleasant whiskey buzz, but it wasn’t enough to stop her from being just as vexed as the big guy sitting next to her. When Rob stood up and stretched, Melanie rose from the sofa to see him out, anxious now to be alone. Instead of heading toward the door, his arm snaked around her waist and jerked her closer to him. His other hand palmed her ass, pressing her against his erection and grinding it against her.
“If you want this to happen under these fucked-up circumstances, I guess I’m willing.”
“Pfft. How noble… and romantic,” she breathed as she looked up at him.
But he wasn’t waiting for approval; his lips began trailing up and down her neck, her throat, and behind her ear, sending shivers skipping along her spine. “You want me to stop,” he murmured against her skin, “tell me now.”
The word go was crouched on her tongue, ready to pounce, and Mel so wanted to let it rip, tell him to leave—she was pissed off and hurt and wanted to pay him back for the earlier rebuff and for accusing Jane of something so horrendous. But she’d been wanting him for days, daydreaming of making love with him…exploring his muscled body and licking every tattoo inked on his golden skin.
So… matter over mind, she gulped down her pride for just this one night, hoping any resulting gag wouldn’t be too violent, and allowed him to lead her into the bedroom.
Chapter 22
A thwacking noise, followed by some kind of rolling against a hard surface in the apartment above hers, unceremoniously yanked Melanie from sleep the next morning. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and as the fog of Morpheus lifted, she remembered details of the night before. Glancing down at the bed, she saw her hunky cop in all his naked glory, sound asleep next to her, the sheet only partially covering him. How could he sleep through that racket? She looked up at the ceiling. Were they roller blading up there?
She watched him snooze for a few minutes, studying his features. Rob had a pronounced brow ridge above a near perfect nose, high cheekbones and full lips. But it was his jaw more than anything else that made him undeniably masculine. It was as square as they make ‘em.
“Damn,” she muttered. “He is gorgeous.” The thought of taking dirty photos of him flitted through her mind but she’d left her phone in the living room… plus, he might not appreciate it. But damn, she thought, gingerly lifting a corner of the sheet to again check out the goods. So tempting to snap a few shots for posterity.
Rob kept himself in primo shape, making him an effective cop as well as undoubtedly popular with females. He probably could intimidate criminals just by standing up to his full height and shoulder girth. As far as women were concerned, Mel didn’t even want to think about how many interesting propositions he must accumulate in an average day. Fortunately, as a detective, he wasn’t in uniform or else it would be a total lost cause. Mel knew that slutty women and hot men in uniforms were like peanut butter and jelly.
While she was busy starting the Detective Fitzgibbons fan club, the memory of their conversation last night itched at her conscience. Why would he think Jane was guilty of murder? She didn’t even know the Caldwells—not recently anyway. What would her motive be? That she’d been pining after him since high school and decided to take out his wife?
That must be it… but the thought was just ridiculous. Jane had a lot going for her—a great job, money in the bank, youth, and, now that she lost all that weight, even beauty. Why would she risk it all to do something so wacko for a man who didn’t even know her? She’d have to be a complete psycho.
And Jane wasn’t insane. Mel would have seen evidence of it if she’d been. Wouldn’t she? In the two years Mel had known Jane Jensen about the most critical thing she could say about her had to do with her fashion sense and her introvert tendencies. Nothing set off alarm bells.
Yet there had to be a reason the police were starting to suspect her. Mel so wanted to know what it was, but she couldn’t compromise Rob’s position. She glanced down at him again. Her chest tightened at the thought of not seeing him anymore. It was, as he pointed out, a no-win situation. He must have been analyzing it from every angle long before he ever mentioned it to her.
Fuck.
She couldn’t even warn Jane because that would be doing exactly what Rob was afraid she’d do. In reality, he put her in a crappy position by divulging the little that he did. But he couldn’t think Jane killed Cate Caldwell because of a high school crush? The idea was patently absurd.
The cops had to know something bad, something much more that she didn’t, but Mel had a sinking feeling that whatever it was, she just might be better off not knowing.
Glancing at the bedside alarm clock she saw it was four minutes before Rob’s alarm would go off. That was so freaking annoying… didn’t even pay to go back to sleep.
She closed her eyes anyway and was about to slip under again when a booming voice cracked like a whip in the upstairs apartment. What the fuck? Was a fucking dominatrix living up there?
And yet, the cop slept on, right through the loud and belittling discipline. Poor chump, Mel thought. Why would he take that… want that? It took all kinds…
Maybe she should send Rob up there? The woman could beat some sense into him for Mel. Other than that, shopping was the only thing that would make her feel better.
Retail therapy always did. It helped right many of the wrongs of the world, and alcohol took care of the rest.
She couldn’t help it, though. Rob’s accusations against Jane were having some effect: she was starting to worry about Jane being dangerous, and she hated herself for it.
Chapter 23
In his still-dark bedroom, Mason awoke disoriented and sweaty. He’d been dreaming about Cate again. Wiping the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand, he finally acknowledged the fact that he missed her. He even missed that stupid dog of hers. If someone had told him a few months ago that he’d feel this way, he would have laughed in the idiot’s face. But not now. Cate had been invading his dreams almost every night—haunting him, no doubt.
He reached over to turn the clock toward him so he
could check the time. Five thirty. He didn’t have to get up until eight. Really, he didn’t have to get up at all since his cousin was his boss. He could roll in whenever he felt like it. Besides, no one wanted to be unkind to a man whose wife had very recently been murdered in cold blood.
His eyes were burning, allergies, no doubt, and he rubbed them with the heels of his hands and finally sat up in bed, flipping the 800-thread-count Italian duvet off his body. Cate had a penchant for fine bed linens and the bed was layered with multiple reminders of her indulgences. Maybe he should just get up and shower. Or hit the gym?
Jake wouldn’t mind even if he didn’t go in to work at all—he’d always had his back, always helped him out whenever he needed a leg up. There wasn’t too much Jake or anyone for that matter could do about Cate, though. She was gone, so gone, and it was inevitable that suspicion would rain down on him. Staying out of prison was Mason’s primary objective now. He had his fingers crossed that the police didn’t find out about his extracurricular activities.
He remembered the last time he saw his wife, just before he left for his business trip. Coming home early that day, he’d walked in on Cate, who’d been in the study on the phone with someone, her voice raised. When he strolled in, she’d whipped her head around, and her expression was a blend of alarm and guilt. She’d looked very guilty as a matter of fact.
“What’s up?” he asked. “Who you talking to?”
She shook her head and said into the phone, “I’ve got to go. We’ll have to do this some other time. Yes. Right. Goodbye.”
He could hear the other person—a male—protesting as she disconnected the phone. Was Cate cheating on him? Because that would be rich.
Wiping her face clean of any concern, Cate popped up from the sofa and strode over to him. “Hey, what are you doing home so early?”
Before he could answer her, she’d wrapped her long arms around his neck and kissed him. Disarmed him. His hands on her narrow hips, he pulled back and eyed his wife. Cate was gorgeous in any situation but that day she was dressed to kill— in all-black formfitting clothes. Pants, shirt—both silk—and high heels. Stilettos.
“Why? Did I interrupt something?”
Color bloomed in her cheeks. “No, just a business call. By the way,” she said, taking a step back from him, “some woman named Tess Gardner called earlier. Twice. Said you’d know who she was.” Her blue eyes were unwavering, fixed on his. Challenging him even.
Mason smiled at her finesse. She’d neatly flipped the heat of suspicion right back onto him. Did she know about his never-ending affair with Tess? Keeping his voice casual, he answered her. “Of course, I know who Tess is. She was my favorite high school girlfriend until she went complete psycho on me. Left a dead rat in my new girlfriend’s locker.”
“Ew.” She reared back a little farther away. “Very comforting to know you have a crazed stalker, Mason. Is she going to come after me now?”
“I seriously doubt it, Cate. That was a very long time ago. She’s since been married and divorced.”
Her eyes narrowed into that patented Cate squint—her expression that says you’re full of crap and she absolutely knows it. Using her head, she flicked her golden hair back over her shoulder where it obediently stayed. “Why is she contacting you now if that’s the case?”
Mason had his own patented expressions and he pulled one out now from his arsenal—his sincere face: arched brows, furrowed forehead, lips pressed together. He held it for a beat as he gently shook his head. “We’re friendly. I ran into her recently, and she told me about a property Jake and I might be interested in. Nothing more than that, babes.”
“Hmm,” she trilled signaling the end of the conversation, but with her sarcastic tone it was more an indictment than a musing. “So,” she came closer again and adjusted his tie as she asked, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected company?”
“I had a light day. Thought I’d come home and chill. I’m meeting my dad for a drink later.”
“Oh, that’s nice. What about dinner?”
“Let’s go out. What time is good for you?”
“I’m not working today; I had an appointment earlier, and now I’m just making a few phone calls. When you’re done with your dad, call me, and I’ll meet you wherever.”
“Sounds good.”
“By the way,” she said, running a contoured fingernail down his face in a sharp caress, “don’t forget we have the ballet day after tomorrow.”
“I won’t. I’ll be back from my trip by late afternoon, early evening at the latest. Curtain’s at eight, right?”
“Yes. What will you wear?”
Cate always worried that he’d embarrass her with his imperfect sartorial choices. “I brought my navy suit to the cleaners. It’ll be ready tomorrow. If you can pick it up, I’ll wear that. You like that suit.”
“The navy Armani? Yes,” she’d said, smiling as her eyes flashed. “I do.”
That was followed by some pretty fantastic sex that afternoon. She’d pulled him up the stairs by his tie and shoved him down on the bed. Cate was always dominant in the bedroom, which is why they often clashed—Mason liked to take the lead in bed too. Two alphas do not a peaceful love life make, though the sex is always sizzling hot.
He’d left for the airport the next morning and never seen her alive again. Actually, because he begged off due to a weak stomach, he’d never seen her again at all. Her mother had accepted the burden of identifying her body at the morgue, saving Mason from that image that would surely have been indelibly etched into his brain.
At least in his dreams she was still a perfect ten.
Chapter 24
Stuck in creeping rush-hour traffic, Rob let his mind wander over the last twenty-four hours. Yesterday started out crappy, but he’d consoled himself by looking forward to his date with Mel. Then even that went bust. But he managed to salvage it in the end, didn’t he? And what a nice end it was.
The reason the date went south was because he liked Mel so damn much that he didn’t want to stop seeing her. It was dumb, he had to admit, to get involved with someone so close to the center of his homicide investigation, but there it was. And he knew going in that he wouldn’t be able to convince her to abandon her friend—Mel was too good a person to do that. But damn, Rob’s gut told him that Jane Jensen was involved in this murder. And… not only did he want to continue seeing Mel, but he was also looking out for her safety. If Ms. Jensen was capable of hiring a hit man to kill someone, what else was she capable of doing?
A loud honk sounded behind him and he snapped out of his reverie to see traffic was moving again. Yeah, he should have been paying attention, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to get out of the car and harass they idiot who honked. He forced down the impulse and drove. He was already late to meet his partner.
When he’d been assigned to Kelvin, he hadn’t been happy. Not even a little bit. It wasn’t that she was female, he told himself. She seemed tough enough despite her relatively compact size. It was more that she was so butch that he felt uncomfortable around her. You coulda knocked him over with a feather when she had eyes for that pretty boy at Cate Caldwell’s office. Now Rob didn’t have a clue as to what her sexuality was, but he was fast realizing that it didn’t matter. She was a damn good partner, a great detective, and she had his back. That’s all that mattered.
Almost an hour later, he pulled into the spot next to Kelvin’s muscle car. She was outside the vehicle, leaning back on the driver’s door, arms crossed. Pissed off, no doubt. He slid his car window open and she rested her hands on the roof and leaned in.
“What the hell, Fitzgibbons? You’re fucking late.”
He snorted. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I got stuck in traffic, so what else is new? Where we going today?”
She shrugged as she locked her car with the key fob and got into his. “I figure we need to talk to more of Mason’s friends.”
“Pleasantville?”
She n
odded. “Yeah, coffee first.”
“You got it.” He turned his attention to the road, trying to figure out the best route possible for this time of day. Once on the Sawmill, he glanced at her. “Think we’ll wrap this case up soon?”
“Hope so. I’ve got a caseload on my desk taller than I am. We’ve been devoting too many hours to it.”
“No shit. I’m sick of it already. I thought it would be open and shut.”
“Yeah, no such luck.”
He felt the heat of her focused gaze. “What?”
“You still seeing the friend?”
“Yeah. I told her last night… gave her an ultimatum. Either shut down her friendship or stop seeing me. I’ve got a nasty feeling she’s going to dump me instead of Jensen.”
“Hmm. Probably. Oh well, easy come, easy go.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Not so easy, Kelvin.”
“No?”
“No. I like her.”
They stopped talking for a while and the driving soothed the agitation he’d been feeling since yesterday morning. He was almost sorry when he reached his exit. He steered onto the exit ramp and turned toward the village, not looking forward to the next few hours.
“Oh, swing into this place, Fitz. I like the coffee here.”
The first sip of strong, hot coffee began restoring his equilibrium almost instantly. Amazing how medicinal that first cup can be. “So how many on the agenda for today?”
“Three, maybe four. I want to speak to Jensen’s friends too, if we could find any. Maybe Caldwell’s parents again? We’ll see how the day shakes out.”
Rob narrowed his eyes. “Who exactly are you liking for it at this point?”
“I don’t know, Rob. I share your suspicions about Jensen, but I’m honing in on Caldwell. If it’s him, I doubt he’d be in collusion with Jensen. Just doesn’t fit that he’d drop his wife over her. Just doesn’t fit.”