by Susan Laine
“And who might that be, pray tell?” Giulia asked sweetly.
“As soon as I let go of the Italian heritage, thought about Adriana Marinos, and then looked a bit further east, to Greece, I got my answer. You’re Nyx, the goddess of night. The midnight cloak Kōjin made for you in my dream, the dark cave in the heavens where you resided, death at your door. Google doesn’t always work in your favor, Ms. Capello.”
Giulia was silent for a moment, studying me icily, but I recognized it as just wariness. “Well, this has been most interesting, but I must renew my earlier question: What does any of this have to do with Mo’s death? Or have you given up on finding his murderer?”
“No, I have not. I came to you today because I wanted to clear the air between us, to show you that the truth of your identities will be safe with me. I don’t care who you are, as long as you’re not behind Mo’s death. And I will find out who is responsible.”
My words made Giulia blink hard, and her lips quivered just a little. Swiftly, she got up and disappeared into the house.
Lovell looked at me apologetically. “Giulia is not mean on purpose, you understand, Mr. Garrett. She’s protective of her charges.”
“I get it. A divine mother figure, tending to a whole host of mythical beings. Perhaps she’s not the mother of them all in reality—if that’s even a word that applies here—but her maternal instinct is strong. It must’ve been a blow when Haydn vanished.”
Lovell nodded, forlorn. “It was. It’s the not knowing that gets to her.”
“Doesn’t it always?”
I got up with Lovell, shook his hand, and said my farewells for the time being. Again I was escorted to the front door by Eryt, who I now knew was Erytheia, one of the Hesperides, nymphs of the evening. According to the myths, these maidens were ladies-in-waiting for the goddess of night, and they guarded a fabled garden in the west where magical golden apples grew. The truth was definitely close. I bid Eryt adieu, thanked her, and walked off.
Did I still think Lovell or Giulia had been involved in Mo’s death? Considering my reply was going to be no, that left me two suspects short. And dammit, they had been good suspects with distinct motives. But Giulia with her maternal instinct and Lovell with his serenity, neither of them carried that sense of deadly danger that came with the presence of evil. And with that, I meant the kind of evil that allowed a person to murder another human being, to plan it, to execute it, to relish in the spoils of victory without shame.
My list of possible suspects was growing thinner by the minute.
Some questions had been answered—by me mostly—but I still had a ways to go.
To be precise, there was one person I had overlooked in my investigation, and I knew the longer I procrastinated, the harder it would be. How could I believe my perfect love could have anything to with the death of a child?
It was time to face Ford.
Journal Entry 14, the Chance Case: Your Love Is A Lie?
IT WAS late afternoon, just before five, when I made my way home.
As usual, I found Ford in the backyard, planting. He was humming a popular tune from gay clubs as he dug, the simple pleasure of working with the earth written on his face.
“Hi, babe,” I said.
Caught off guard, Ford lifted his little garden shovel in a gesture of self-defense, but lowered it when he saw it was me. “You really need to stop doing that, Sam. One of these days I’m gonna throw something at you, and it could be anything from dirt to a rake. So be forewarned.”
I chuckled. “Message received and understood, sir.” He shook his head with mock reproach, but his smile was as radiant as ever. “Listen. Can we talk for a bit?”
Ford nodded, got up, and swiped dirt off his raggedy work jeans. With just them and a white T-shirt on, he looked edible. My own pants grew a little tighter. “I was going to start dinner in a minute. Now you can help me.”
“Fine. But you can’t blame me if I burn down something irreplaceable, and we have to order pizza. Again.”
Ford laughed. “Oh, I won’t blame you, honey. I’ll find other ways to punish you.” He winked wickedly as he passed me, and the familiar flutter of butterflies in my belly increased. God, he always knew how to get me all hot and bothered.
And his swat on my behind as he walked by just made my blood boil all the more.
I loved him so much it hurt.
Please, God, don’t let him be the murderer.
Although, to be fair, it was looking likely Mo had inhaled the cadmium himself in his lab, either purposely or accidentally. If it had been a murderous intent, then that person required easy access to the mansion. I didn’t see Ford having that kind of access, not even with the contacts he seemed to possess all over the place.
I followed him into our house and straight to the kitchen. The aromas of spices and fresh herbs filled the air, and by the time I reached it, the water was already boiling.
I sniffed, though there was no scent yet. “What are you making?”
He glanced at me over his muscular shoulder, smiling happily. “Lasagna with steamed vegetables. I was going to make something more complicated but then didn’t feel like it.”
I went to him, plastered my front to his back, and wrapped my arms around him. He smelled of grass and dirt, sweat and deodorant, and I took a deep breath, savoring it in my lungs for a moment.
“Yuck, I’m all gross,” he whined playfully, wiggling in my arms.
“Nuh-uh, you’re perfect.” I kissed his exposed nape where his blond strands were damp. “Perfect for me.”
“Why do I have a feeling this conversation’s gonna lead us into the bedroom?” he said teasingly. I chuckled and kissed his skin again, stealing a lick as well. My taste buds exploded into life at the salty flavor of him. He leaned back against me and sighed. “I thought you came home so early to talk about me being in Mo Chance’s will.”
I froze. Shit. Niedermayer must have notified those mentioned in the will. That was standard once probate was finished and the will’s legality had been verified; for example, that all signatures were authentic and that the heirs were explicitly named. That meant the reading of the will was close at hand, and if the murderer was a financial beneficiary of the will, my time was running out.
Oh, I was gonna give Niedermayer a piece of my mind when I next saw him.
Although, to be fair, the man was just doing his job. I was the one working too slow.
But at the moment, a more pressing matter loomed.
I pulled away from him, and he turned around, facing me. Ford was calm, waiting for me to speak. I hated doing this. “I know you’re in his will.”
Ford said nothing, but I saw his lips thin the way they did when he was holding back his anger. “I see. For how long?”
“Since I met with Mo’s lawyer.”
Then Ford pursed his lips back to their normal full selves, and I knew he was done with his annoyance. “And until the will was verified you couldn’t say I was in it. I understand.”
“You do?” Why was I defending myself, dammit? He was the one who was a suspect.
Ford tilted his head, melancholic. “Ask me, Sam. I know you need to.”
I gritted my teeth, feeling strained and high-strung. I hated myself for being put in this situation. “Why are you in his will, Ford?”
I saw sadness emerge from him. “Mr. Niedermayer didn’t say why. I only know that I am.” He must have anticipated my next question because he added, “I inherit two million dollars.”
I choked on air, and I had to put my hand over my heart to check if it was still beating.
Ford looked concerned then and came toward me. “Sam, are you okay? Talk to me.” His hands landed on my shoulders, grounding me. “Please, tell me you’re all right.” His pitch rose in alarm.
I rested my palms over his hands, patting them a little. “I’m okay. Sort of, anyway.” I couldn’t turn my eyes away. “Two million bucks? Fuck me.”
“Oh, now that I’m rich you
want my booty.” A flicker of a smile adorned his lips, and I saw his attempt at humor as an attempt to connect with me.
I tried to smile back, but I felt… wrong. “Ford? Have you been in contact with Mo Chance since you two met at the hospital?”
Ford’s gaze dropped to the floor, and I had my answer. And it sure as hell wasn’t one I wanted. I backed away from him, and his lost touch left me empty inside.
“Sam, I….” He looked at me pleadingly, but I didn’t know what to do. He had withheld this from me while I was investigating his benefactor’s death.
“Do I really need to say that I think you should’ve told me?” I demanded angrily, and I felt my hands fisting at my sides because my fingernails dug painfully into my palms.
Ford’s face crumbled. “Mo texted me a few times after the shooting, just to check how I was. We never met. I was polite when I texted him back, just to thank him for his well-wishes and for the flowers and stuff. That’s all.” He reached for me, but I stepped back. If I let him touch me, I would cave, and I needed my wits about me right then. “I’ve dreamt about him a lot, even last night, but I haven’t spoken to him since the hospital.”
Dreams….
I closed my eyes. I followed my train of thought as it flew in directions I would never have considered before the Veil lifted. Could it be so easy? I recalled the vivid imagery of Mo’s playroom and found what I was looking for. Like a film, each graphic frame flashed after the other to form a clear picture.
But none of that mattered for the moment because all I knew was that my Ford was innocent. And he was all mine.
Ford hadn’t interrupted me while I was lost in remembrances. He knew me too well. In fact, I don’t think there was a person in the world who knew me the way he did, all the way down to my heart and soul.
“Ford?” He blinked, worrying his lower lip, and I saw the condensation of moisture in his eyes and how his jaw trembled. “I love you.”
Without a word, he collided with me, winding his arms tight around me, kissing my neck, cheek, and finally lips. I parted mine and let him in. His tongue took possession of me just as his body did, and I was his for good. Even though I now knew his secret too.
Lack of coordination and finesse was our trademark as we kissed, fondled, groped, and took what the other was offering. I heard him fumble with the stove, and then the click when he turned it off. He shoved me down on the rug on the kitchen floor and landed on top of me. He was strong and aggressive, and I yielded to his passion.
I was pushing forty—four more years to go, thank you very much—so the idea of kitchen sex with my knobby knees wasn’t exactly a favorite fantasy of mine. But with him holding my hands above my head while he maneuvered his hand down my pants to fist and tug at my cock, I honestly didn’t care.
We’d been together for five years, so we had stashes of lube everywhere. Never had I been more glad of that fact then now when he practically ripped my clothes off. His hands and mouth were seemingly everywhere at once as my back and buttocks were pressed against the coarse rug. I’d have finger-shaped bruises and bite marks all over for a week.
With rough hands, he flipped me over, trapping my aching dick against the rug. He spit at my crack, grabbed my hips with force, practically split me open with his hands, and buried his face in my taint. His light stubble burned at my exposed skin, but then his tongue entered me, and I yearned for more, not less. He licked and probed at my hole, wiggling inside and leaving me a wanton mess.
Ford spit down my crevice again, and it felt so trashy and dirty. And I loved it, him taking what he wanted out of me. He tugged at my balls and cock while he ate my ass. It wasn’t something we often did in the heat of the moment. This time, however, he didn’t seem to care about anything else but having me, tasting me, claiming me. I groaned loudly with the pleasure of it.
Then he reared back and lubed up his cock, if the dripping wet gliding sound was any indication. Then two fingers weighed down at my ring of muscle, the touch intimate and insistent. I willed myself to relax, and his fingers popped in. He made quick, efficient work of me until I melted from his prodding of my prostate, and I was left a pool of jelly.
Then his hand was replaced by his fat cockhead, and in one assertive move, he thrust into me.
I moaned, and so did he.
Ford came to lie down on top of me, chest to back, and his weight was on me. I was thoroughly pinned down, and I had a feeling I was about to get the pounding of a lifetime.
Ford didn’t disappoint. Hooking his hands beneath my shoulders to grip at them hard, he started moving at a gentle pace. But soon he was ramming into me like a horny bull, and I had no recourse but to accept his primal loving. In truth, there was nowhere else I’d rather have been at that moment than locked in his embrace.
Then his right arm wrapped around my throat and neck, almost cutting off my air supply. I felt heady because this was so dangerous, but immediately I felt his sloppy, wet, hot kisses land on my shoulders, neck, ears, and cheek. He loved me, and I had nothing to fear.
Then he twisted his head along with mine to kiss me from behind at such an awkward angle we barely managed anything but a few brushes of lips, a couple of licks of each other’s tongues, and shared heavy breathing. But it was my Ford, so I took every little contact I could get.
I moved one of my knees up a little to open myself more, and in response Ford amped up his already fast pace to rapid-fire pistoning of his hips. God, his cock felt so good inside me, and his balls slapped against my perineum. I was truly and utterly stuffed full by another man, his thick, long penis claiming my body the way his kisses claimed my heart.
With his mass above me, I didn’t have access to my own dick, as it wept early seed, to get off. I was dripping precome all over the place as he thrust into me, time and again, and I moaned in pleasure and frustration.
Then Ford somehow wormed his left hand under me and started jerking me off. His calloused hand was smooth from the lube, and I fucked into his grip. In no time at all I let out a hoarse cry when my balls pulled up and felt so heavy it hurt, and then I started coming. Hot liquid pooled beneath my belly as my cock twitched to push out every last drop, but I didn’t care. He kept pumping me until my balls were dry, and only then did he let go.
With short, shallow strokes now he reamed me, and I felt his urgency as clearly as if it were my own. He was panting hard on me, wet puffs branding hot on my goose-bumpy skin. Then, without warning, he pushed all the way inside me, shuddered, and filled my ass with his seed.
“Oh, Sam, love you so much,” he whispered in my ear, his voice merely a raspy sound.
“Love you too, Ford.” I let my cheek press onto the rug, not caring if there were breadcrumbs or coffee spills there. I felt heavy and yet weightless. My skin tingled all over, and my groin was aching hot still, my muscles contracting with the exertion.
Then all his strength gave out, and his body landed entirely on top of me, nothing held back. I grunted but didn’t let him move off an inch. We lay like that, spent and tangled, for a while, just trying to catch our breaths.
Well, I guess I could cross sex on the kitchen floor off my to-do list.
“Will you still help me with the flowers tomorrow at the nursery?” I heard the near desperate hesitation in the tremors of his tone.
I nodded as best I could from my captured position. “Yes, of course.”
“What changed your mind about me?”
“I didn’t have to change my mind about your innocence. You always were and are that to me. In my eyes you can do no wrong.”
“I’m not perfect, Sam. I can do the wrong thing too, just like anyone.” He nuzzled my neck. “Remember the way I was before I was shot?”
“Oh, you mean the drinking, whoring, racist, sexist asshole? I recall a thing or two.”
He nudged me hard but playfully because of my sarcastic tone. “So you know better than anyone I’m not all that—”
“You are to me. All that’s behind
you. You’re a new and far better man now.”
He sighed on top of me, my warm blanket of flesh. “I’ve alienated everyone else but you. My family in Idaho won’t even speak to me, not after I slept with my cousin’s fiancée at their wedding. I was a bastard then.”
“Is that what you meant?”
“Huh?”
“When you said you wanted to be someone else, but only once.”
Ford brushed his lips over my nape, the hint of a touch so erotic and intimate. “When I was at the hospital no one came to see me except you. Sure, some colleagues popped by out of a sense of duty, but only you were there every single day, waiting for me to wake up.”
I chuckled breathlessly, unable to do much more being held down so firmly against the floor. “How could you possibly know that? You were unconscious.”
“It was like I got a second chance. And the way you looked at me….” His grip on me tightened. “I knew loving you was going to be my purpose in life.”
I actually had to pause to reflect on that. At the time, the change in him had been so sudden I had questioned it. When he seduced me, I didn’t believe in the sincerity of it, though I did give in. I was certain fucking would end our professional and personal relationship. Instead, what I’d gotten was five years of love and devotion.
The night he had tempted me, we’d been in the car. I was driving him home because that was the day he officially quit the force—and I right along with him. At first he was so mad at me that all through the ride home he ranted on and on about how I was wasting my career out of some peculiar sense of loyalty to him. I denied it but couldn’t tell him why. How could I admit how I felt about him?
The moment I parked the car at the curb of his house, he stopped his relentless speech, and dead silence filled the vehicle. Ford looked at me, his eyes ablaze, and I couldn’t do anything but stare back, wondering if in the darkness he could see me wearing my heart on my sleeve.