by Macy Largo
Later, after she went to bed, she lay there and played the sounds of the men’s sex over in her mind, recalled the feel of Alan’s warm body on the couch.
She rolled onto her stomach, plunged her fingers between her legs and imagined not one but two hunky guys making love to her. A deliciously naughty fantasy. Thinking that, it didn’t take long before she moaned into her pillow as her own orgasm flooded through her. As she drifted to sleep, she thought maybe staying with Alan, for a while at least, wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.
Chapter Eight
Jerald arrived at the marina at his usual time on Saturday morning. He wished he’d spent the night at Alan’s. He’d barely slept and felt like a grouchy bear.
Goddammit.
Yes, Daphne seemed sweet and nice. Still, something did not set right with him. She’d practically wrapped Alan around her finger in just a few days. Nothing he said about her even slightly negative would go over well. Alan felt bound and determined to take care of her, regardless of the circumstances.
As much as it aggravated Jerald, it also warmed him. Alan, a truly nice guy and a kind-hearted man, would go out of his way to help others.
And he was his boyfriend.
Now if they could only get some time to themselves now that he’d managed to wrap his mind around that little factoid, life would be just skippy. At least they’d go out tonight. Alone.
Please let her be asleep when we get home. Thank god Alan had been relatively patient with him. Of course, the irony didn’t escape him that if Alan was a girl he would have no hesitation whatsoever about making love to him with someone else in the house.
One of these days, I need to let go of my fear. Thinking it didn’t make it any easier to do it.
He loaded his gear into the boat. After cranking the engines, he cast off and headed down the channel. A nice Saturday, every weekend warrior would be out. At least he’d remembered to bring an extra citation pad.
He suspected he’d need it.
A short time after noon, he had pulled over an old wreck of a boat and was going through a safety inspection when he heard the VHF radio go off. “Hey, Major Carter, marine patrol. You out here? It’s Bob Diego.”
The boat’s owner had all his required equipment, and the vessel appeared seaworthy despite looking like it was held together with duct tape and fiberglass patches. He cut them loose and grabbed the radio mic. “This is Major Carter. What’s up, Bob?”
“Do you have my cell number on you?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Call me. Right now.”
Bob Diego was one of the local shrimpers Jerald regularly dealt with professionally since he worked out of the Aripeka marina. If Bob couldn’t say something over the radio, it must be bad. A moment later, Jerald called him on the cell.
“I’m about five miles southwest of Hernando Beach. I’ve brought up a body.”
So much for my dinner plans tonight. “Dead human body?”
“Um, yeah. No question about it.”
“What’s the coordinates?” He wrote them down, then called it in to base on his police radio. He would beat the sheriff’s office and Coast Guard out there.
With relatively calm seas, he made good time. It took him twenty minutes to reach the location. Bob had gone out in his pleasure boat with his family. He’d been teaching his two sons how to dive on a shallow rock ledge in less than thirty feet of water when they stumbled upon the man’s body.
Bob had brought the body up, laid it on his dive platform, and covered it with a beach towel. His two sons, fourteen and twelve, looked freaked. Bob’s wife looked sick to her stomach.
The man had been wrapped in a light chain hooked to a fifteen-pound fluke anchor. Jerald was surprised it hadn’t floated with an anchor as light as that. The anchor must have hooked into the bottom or on the rocks. From the condition of the body, he looked like he’d been down there a couple of days, at least. Jerald would have to wait on the ME to discern the cause of death. The man’s left arm was gone below the elbow. Jerald didn’t know if the missing portion of the man’s head had anything to do with how he died, or was simply the result of feasting marine life.
He didn’t have any ID on him, just the remains of his clothes, tan slacks and a white pullover knit shirt.
Jerald called Alan to warn him he didn’t know when he’d be back due to a homicide investigation and put off their dinner date. He didn’t finish with his paperwork until nearly seven that evening, followed by his normal duties: refueling the boat, filing his other reports and citations, and everything else he had to do in the normal course of a day. He went straight home and climbed into the shower, glad to rinse the sticky salt residue from his skin and the hint of decomposition he hadn’t been able to shake.
He wished it was Alan’s shower and that Alan was there with him.
Yeah, he had it bad. No doubt about it. Having admitted it to himself, owning it, now he couldn’t wait until they lived together full time.
But that couldn’t happen until she left. He still couldn’t bring himself to spend the night with her there, even though he really wanted to. He damn sure didn’t feel comfortable living with a practical stranger. Maybe Alan’s large family made it easier for him to adapt, but he hadn’t had that luxury growing up.
Nearly eight o’clock, Alan would still be awake.
Did he or didn’t he? Man, he needed him.
A few minutes later, he hopped in his truck and drove to Alan’s. He saw light from the TV flickering against the front blinds and knew Alan was still up.
Thank god.
He let himself in with his key. Unfortunately, Alan wasn’t the only one still up. Daphne sat cuddled next to him on the couch while they watched a horror movie.
At his arrival, she stood. “I’ll see you guys in the morning,” she said before slowly limping to her bedroom and closing the door.
Alan shot him a disgusted look before he shut off the TV. “Hey. Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
Jerald put a hand on Alan’s chest before he could lean in to kiss him. “What was that look for?”
“What look?”
“The look you just gave me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that I spent all evening trying to draw her out of her shell and—”
“Okay, fine. Sorry I bothered you.” He turned on his heel and stormed out the front door, slamming it behind him.
Alan raced after him. “No! Jesus, Jer, stop. That’s not what I meant!”
Jerald wrenched his truck door open and got in, slamming it, too. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not very good company right now. I had to deal with what looks like a fucking mob hit that Bob Diego and his kids found this afternoon. They discovered a body while diving. I’m tired, I’ve had a suck day, I’m pissed I had to call off our date, and I should have just stayed home tonight. Go take care of her.” He started the truck and ignored Alan’s hurt look as he pulled out of the driveway and drove home.
When his personal cell phone went off, he sent the call straight to voice mail and shut it off. Dispatch could call him on his work cell if they needed him, or on his radio.
No, certainly not the mature way to handle things, but the last thing he needed was more stress on top of an already stressful day. All he’d wanted was to…
Christ. He’d just wanted to be with Alan, to relax and decompress. Now he felt more tense than ever.
He lay in bed and stared at his ceiling fan. It had never worked since he’d lived there and hung at a weird angle from the ceiling, casting odd shadows across the opposite wall from the high windows where light from the security lamp outside forced its way through the cheap-ass blinds.
Fuck.
Now he had to apologize to Alan the next morning for acting like an asshole.
Things were going well for them, everything smooth sailing, until that girl came along. Was it fucking selfish of him to want to have his boyfriend all to himself without worrying if someone in the next room c
ould hear them screwing each other’s brains out?
He rolled onto his side and tried to sleep. Even doing Sudoku puzzles wouldn’t help him tonight. He didn’t sleep well here anymore. He only slept well with Alan, the other man’s body stretched out alongside his.
Fuck.
* * * *
Alan watched Jerald’s taillights disappear down the darkened street. “Shit.” He walked inside and even though he suspected Jerald wouldn’t answer, he called his cell anyway.
Straight to voicemail after the third ring. He didn’t leave a message and tried again. This time it went straight to voice mail without ringing.
He’d shut his phone off.
Leave him alone until morning, or go after him?
Daphne appeared in the hallway. “Alan? Is everything okay?”
He sat at the kitchen table. “It’s all right. He had a really bad day, that’s all. They found a man’s body out in the Gulf.”
Did she suddenly turn white?
“A body?”
“Yeah. Said it looked like a mob hit—” She bolted down the hallway for her bathroom, where she started vomiting.
He raced after her. In the bathroom he knelt beside her, held her hair back. “What is it? Are you okay?”
Far from okay, she seemed near hysterics, sobbing as she sicked up the remains of her dinner. After ten minutes she shakily climbed to her feet, then rinsed her mouth in the sink.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I need to leave. Tomorrow. I’ll catch a bus somewhere. Anywhere. I’ll call a cab to take me to the bus station.”
“Whoa. Did I just step into a Twilight Zone episode and someone forgot to tell me? First him acting weird, now you. What the hell is wrong?”
She shook her head as tears brimmed in her eyes. “I have to go. I can’t stay here. I’m sorry. I’ll leave in the morning.”
He tried to get her to talk to him, but she refused to explain, then locked herself in her bedroom. He tried calling Jerald’s phone one more time before he went to bed. He didn’t want to resort to calling Jerald’s work phone, so he’d have to wait until morning.
After making a couple of calls to rearrange his charters, he set his alarm for four in the morning and went to bed. Whatever he did, he was not letting her leave until he found out the truth.
* * * *
Jerald finally rolled out of bed at four after a mostly sleepless night. He shouldn’t have left like that. He shouldn’t have shut off his cell. Now Alan probably felt pissed off as well as hurt.
Rightfully so.
He showered, dressed in his uniform, and drove his work truck to Alan’s. He wouldn’t have much time to talk to him before they both had to head to the marina. As he expected, the light was on in the kitchen.
He let himself in the back door. Alan sat at the table with a cup of coffee. From the look on Alan’s face, Jerald sensed something horribly wrong.
He hoped he hadn’t totally fucked up things between them.
“We need to talk,” Alan softly said.
“I’ll start. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that last night. That was totally out of line on my part.”
“About Daph,” he said, still speaking softly.
“What?”
Alan glanced down the hallway. “After you left last night, she came back out. When I told her what you said about the body you recovered, that you said it looked like a mob hit, she freaked.”
Jerald sat but didn’t interrupt him.
“She not only freaked, she went into hysterics and puked her guts up and is insisting she’s leaving today on the first Greyhound to anywhere.”
“What?” That news should have made him happy, but the circumstances surrounding it didn’t.
“Yeah. How long you think that body was in the water?”
“ME said probably a few days at least.”
“Like since maybe sometime late Monday?”
Jerald stared into Alan’s big brown eyes, comprehension dawning.
Alan scooted a chart Jerald hadn’t noticed before in front of him. A small, red dot marked the shoreline just north of Aripeka. “That’s where I found her. When I first saw her I thought she was dead, so I hit the marker on my GPS. I pulled it up and double-checked the coordinates. Where did Bob find the body?”
Jerald glanced at the lat/long coordinates on the chart and pointed. “About there. They were diving that small rock ledge you like to fish for grunts.”
Alan’s eyes met his. “That’s not very far. Not if she’s swimming for shore. She had the current and wind with her, pushing her toward shore. The front blew in from the west and I checked currents for that night. She’s a very strong swimmer, said she swam in high school. It’s plausible.”
Jerald stared. Alan was right. “Fuck.”
Alan continued. “You know as well as I do that no woman in her right mind jumps out of a perfectly safe boat in the middle of the night in the Gulf of Mexico unless she’s seriously freaked, or unless whatever’s on that boat is scarier and worth risking her life to leave. Getting beat up is bad, but it usually isn’t higher on the freak-out-ometer than risking the Gulf alone at night.”
“You think Scorsini whacked the guy we found and she witnessed it?”
Alan nodded. “I’ve already changed my charters for today. I’ve got another captain taking them out.”
Jerald sat back in his chair and scrubbed his face as he contemplated the ramifications.
Alan leaned in, his eyes never leaving Jerald’s. “I know you think she’s got me wrapped around her fingers. I can’t change your perception there. I’m not a pushover or a moron. I’ve known all along there’s more to her story, but me bugging her to tell us wouldn’t make her open up any faster. I needed to let her learn to trust me.”
“I’ve got to talk to her.”
“I know you do. That’s why I’m taking the day off. Let’s hope she opens up now that she knows us a little better.”
* * * *
Daphne finally woke a little after six, feeling horrible and terrified. She hated to leave, but knew that was her only option. When she walked into the kitchen and saw both men sitting at the table, she froze. “I’ll be out of here in an hour,” she softly said.
Before she could turn and retreat, Alan jumped from his chair and raced to her side. He caught her hand. “No, hon,” he said in a gentle tone. “You’re going to come sit and talk to us.” When she sat she spotted the chart on the table. Alan wouldn’t let go of her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
Jerald wore his uniform. He must be on duty, she thought. He sat on the other side of the table, his expression one of concern, but not anger. He pointed to the chart. “Here’s where Alan found you.” He pointed to another spot. “This is where the man’s body was found yesterday.”
She struggled not to throw up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Daphne, please,” Alan pleaded. “Tell us what really happened.”
She shook her head. “I already told you what happened.”
Jerald’s eyes met hers. Where Alan was cute, Jerald looked handsome, rugged, a mountain of a man, if she had to recycle a cliché. “Daphne, I can’t help you—we can’t help you—if you don’t tell us the truth.”
She wanted to. Never before in her life had she so badly wanted to just curl up and cry in their arms and let them take care of this. She knew if she did that, told them, they would be in danger. Paulie would never let her get away if she testified. They’d been too nice to her for her to drag them into this.
“Please, just let me go pack.”
Alan’s stern tone surprised her. “No. Now, either you tell us the truth, or he will take you in and they’ll question you, and they won’t let you leave until they have the truth. I would rather not put you through that.”
She looked at Alan, startled by his firm voice. She read the concern in his face, b
ut also knew he wouldn’t back down. Not this time.
“I mean it, guys, seriously, I told you.” Tears bubbled just below the surface, her terror threatening to take over again.
* * * *
From across the table, Jerald closely watched her. If this was a fraction of how she acted when Alan found her, he could understand exactly why Alan had latched onto her. Fear didn’t begin to describe it. She looked absolutely terrified and near hysterics. He stood, rounded the table, and knelt next to her. He took both of her hands in his while Alan stood and moved behind her, his hands rubbing her shoulders, trying to soothe her.
Jerald gentled his voice. “Daphne, this isn’t like the movies. This is real life. You can’t keep quiet and pray Scorsini goes away or forgets about you just because you don’t say anything. If you don’t tell the truth, there won’t be a damn thing anyone can do to protect you. Or at the very least they’ll charge you with either obstruction or with complicity for not turning him in. If you tell the truth, we can help you. We can protect you.”
“I can’t!”
Jerald forced his voice to stay calm. “Honey, you have to tell me what you know. Do you know who that man is and how he got there?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her hands had gone cold and they trembled in his. “Please don’t make me tell you.” She broke down sobbing. “Please don’t make me!”
Alan started to reach for her, but Jerald picked her up and carried her to the sofa. He sat, keeping his arms wrapped around her as she cried.
“Shh. You have to tell me,” he whispered into her hair. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
She tightly clung to him, as if she was in the Gulf, drowning in the stormy waters. “I heard him say he was going to kill me next!” she cried.
Alan crowded close, his arms around both of them. “Tell him, baby. I promise you, we won’t let you go through this alone.”
Her voice hitched. “Paulie shot him…he didn’t know I saw…thought I was asleep…heard him tell…other guy they…would kill me later…his dad’s orders.”