Falling for Water (A Prepper Romance)

by Arlene Webb

  Most shocking, she was more stunned by what a good kisser the man who held her was than the fact she’d drunk bottled water for the first time in over a decade and still breathed and, oh yeah, the boyfriend who’d given her a black eye last week, the one she’d been sleeping with for a couple of months, was honest-to-God dead.

  Ray stared down at her as if she should say something. Should she?

  “Oh. You want a reaction? The truth?”

  He nodded.

  “I like how you kiss. I didn’t die from bottled water. And beneath those amazing things, is a wonder why hearing Pete is dead doesn’t seem as important. No, I’ve never arranged for anyone to die, let alone a man I cared about before he showed his alter ego. And if I were involved in a weapon smuggling operation, I’d have made sure suspicion clearly fell on Pete and if he’s dead, doesn’t that suggest he’s innocent?”

  “Could mean he angered someone who thought he’d double-crossed them by trying to steal those boxes. A lot of intent for harm in this room.”

  She shifted against his arm and he sat up with her. “I should call the supplier,” she said. “See why they shipped guns instead of what I ordered. I need my laptop.”

  “Let the Feds do that. They’ll have a warrant to take your laptop. Is that why you want it before they get here?”

  “No,” she snapped. She ducked from his arm and rolled off the bed. “I have nothing to hide.”

  “Good. Let me tell them the truth, you haven’t touched your laptop since you put it in the car. Then they won’t be so intent on making sure you didn’t try to hide stuff. If you give them passwords, things will go smooth.”

  “Them? Don’t you mean us, as in you as well? I’m alone and in the middle of such horrible accusations. Pete…he’s really dead?”

  “No and yes. Yes, there’s a body still lying on the floor in your apartment, and no, you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

  She flipped her back to him, flinched as she passed the other bed with open box on it, and went into the bathroom. She left the door ajar, turned on the sink and bent over it, throwing water onto her face.

  “You are so pretty. God, I hope you aren’t a criminal.”

  She jerked up to stare at him in the mirror. She snorted. “Conjugal visits, or a fast fuck right now is all you need to lose interest in me?”

  He came up behind her and flung his arms around her. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. You want to take a shower?” He groaned into the back of her head. “Alone, I mean. I can get your clothes from your car. I estimate about ten before they get here.”

  A loud rap on the door startled both of them. “Harris, open up,” a woman called out.

  “Ten, you say?” she whispered as he unwrapped himself.

  “Shh. It’ll be okay, I promise.” He used both hands to brush water off her cheeks.

  “Right,” she muttered.

  The whack on the door came again.

  He turned his head. “Coming,” he bellowed. “Take a minute if you want,” he whispered to her and strode out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  She washed and dried her face again, ran fingers through her hair, and listened to a group entering and the door to the motel room closing. She squared her shoulders, opened the bathroom door, and stepped out.

  Two suits, dark-haired and blond, clean shaven with prerequisite mirrored sunglasses in their upper pockets, and a feisty and fit-looking blonde with a gun on her hip stared at her.

  Ray stood in front of the bed they’d just rolled about on, his arms crossed. He turned to her. “Cassi Smith, meet special agents Turner and Maxton and Detective Lisbon.” He gestured her closer. “Sit down on the bed here. They just want to clear things up.”

  She didn’t move.

  “You read her her rights?” Lisbon asked Ray.

  “Ah…are we arresting her?”

  “Not yet, but even so, we are recording. Cassi, you do know you have the right to remain silent and that anything you say can be used against you in a court of law?” Lisbon asked

  “Yes. I know all that.” Cassi fought not to flinch as the dark-haired suit set a small tape recorder on the table. The other placed a six-pack of water and a box of doughnuts beside it.

  Lisbon pulled out the chair. “Best you sit here, Cassi, and have a drink and a bite. You’ve had a long night and we’ll get through this as quickly as we can. Thank you for all your cooperation so far. Do you mind if we have a look at your laptop?”

  Cassi pulled her keys out of her pocket. The dark-haired suit closed in and she dropped them in his hand. “Search my car, paw through my clothes, do whatever you want. There is an outstanding parking ticket in the glove box. The man I no longer consider my boyfriend takes my car and parks wherever he….” She slumped as the agent headed out the door to fetch her laptop. Pete had gotten killed because she’d ordered a new distiller and somehow got guns instead?

  “Cassi?” Lisbon hedged.

  “I’ll pay the ticket. It’s not due for a couple more days.” If Ray said one word, one word about the deal with water, she’d scream. She didn’t meet his gaze as she crossed the room and sat at the table. Lisbon took the chair opposite, leaving the men to stand. The blond suit ripped the cellophane around the pack of water, tossed a bottle to Ray and put one in front of Cassi. He opened the box of doughnuts and clicked on the recorder.

  Twenty minutes later, she’d crumbled a plain doughnut into shreds on a napkin in front of her and wondered when it would all end. It took three grim-looking guys, FBI on their bulletproof vests, to crowd into the room and quietly carry the four boxes out. She suspected they headed for the security of a federal building where they’d open them, list contents, and report to the blond suit here, who occasionally muttered into a headset. The guy sat on the edge of the bed, his back stiff as if he had a pole shoved up his butt, his fingers all over her laptop. The other agent had stationed himself in front of the door.

  Ray hadn’t said a word, other than to support her statements concerning how she’d met him in the bar, when she’d left the apartment, and when she’d confronted him in the parking lot.

  “About Pete Deming,” Lisbon said. “How long have you been involved with him? Any reason to think he’d be mixed up in gun running?”

  Cassi stared at the mutilated doughnut. “You mean how long had I been with him. Past tense, and not just because I’d moved out last night. Ray told me that he’s dead. Murdered. I don’t think he was anything more than a part-time office worker, and full-time petty gambler, womanizer, and bad boyfriend. No, I did not hire someone to kill him.”

  Had anyone called his brother? His elderly parents in Florida? Not that she had any phone numbers. She’d never met Pete’s family or even talked to them on the phone, but he’d mentioned them occasionally. Oh God. Surely the police would handle notifying next of kin, seeing as it looked like they’d be dragging her to jail. They wouldn’t expect her one phone call to go to a funeral director.

  She raised her chin to see Lisbon glowering at Ray, propped against the wall between the beds.

  With a shrug, he took his hands out of his pockets and approached. He stopped beside Cassi, picked up the bottle of water in front of her, opened it, and drank a mouthful. He set it down by her hand, brushed his fingers against hers and cleared his throat. “I think she’s a victim,” he told Lisbon, “and she’s had enough thrown at her without warning.” He stepped backward a few feet, obviously taking his stand in her corner. “You find anything in the apartment linking either?” he asked Lisbon. “Have an inventory yet?”

  Lisbon turned to the blond.

  “Twenty-seven assault rifles, thirty handguns.” The man looked up from the screen at Cassi. “Your password for the site where you’ve backed up documents is watergirl123, as well?”

  “Yes. I’m not very original.”

  He smiled and her heart stopped. The guy suddenly looked human. “That’s a definite falsehood,” he said. “Some interest
ing articles you’ve had published.” He glanced at Lisbon. “The publications are science and environmentally oriented. Nothing in personal e-mail or browser history to red flag. The only thing I can’t get into so far is a recent doc. One opened yesterday.”

  Cassi sighed. “Yeah. Sorry. I hoped you wouldn’t ask. My other password is ‘Pete is an asshole’. No spaces or caps.”

  The agent arched his brows and returned to invading her life. A moment later he looked up. “A story you’re working on?”

  “Yes. And I don’t want it sold to tabloids, especially until I’ve attached proper credits.”

  “Deming did that to you?” Lisbon asked.

  “Two weeks ago someone leaked an unfinished article word for word. I was researching a chain of pharmaceutical companies based in Chicago, shipping toxic wastes to Texas and the Rio Grande. I had to refund the advance from Newsweek and hire a lawyer to get my name taken off work that wasn’t documented correctly or finished, and yes, Pete went on many business trips without me, making me wonder this past month if he had a deal with gambling.”

  “Did you accuse him?” The blond actually looked pissed, like he’d love to strangle Pete if he wasn’t already dead.

  “My fault. He said I shouldn’t be online at a library where anyone could hack in. He was quite upset I even asked him.” He’d swept the dishes she’d just washed onto the kitchen floor, breaking the plates. Smashed her against the sink saying she had a lot of nerve to call him a thief when she was a freak for so many things, including refusing to use the dishwasher. He’d jerked her about, bent her over the table she hadn’t wiped down yet, and things had gone from bad to worse. He’d pushed her face into the table, rubbing against her. A clear threat he could do what he wanted and maybe next time he would. Then he’d stormed out.

  She tuned back into the blond agent and the hint of compassion on his face. “Um, sorry, what’d you say?”

  “A recent e-mail from your friend Lindy leads me to think he’s been violent. Why’d you stay with him as long as you did?”

  “That’s not relevant,” Ray snapped.

  The man gave Ray a hard look. “When a ten stays with a zero, it means he has something on her. I’d like to know why a beautiful, successful woman was sleeping with a gambler, a drunk, and a thief who gave her a black eye, and if the e-mail chat between women is honest, bullied or forced her into sex on more than one occasion.”

  Cassi felt the heat creep up her cheeks as everyone in the room looked at her. I’m a ten? Yeah, right.

  “You don’t have to answer that, Cassi,” Lisbon said. She scowled at the guys and Cassi felt her heart crack. It’d be good if she could be arrested by a woman she’d instantly liked. It seemed she was at least guilty of being a nutjob who’d placed an order online that somehow gotten a man killed.

  She found her hand inching for the bottle of water Ray had drunk from. She swallowed hard and froze her fingers. “I’m not a ten. Far from it. I…have hang-ups, making me not easy to live with.” She dropped her gaze to the shredded doughnut. “I refuse to eat most things unless I prepare them, and I can’t…I almost can’t drink anything but water I’ve distilled. I’m inflexible, difficult to travel with, and I get all stressed if anything is out of order.”

  Her voice cracked. She forced herself to go on. “Pete was one of the first men who acted like he didn’t care that I’m not normal. He guessed so much about me, as if we’d known each other for ages, and he didn’t judge. At least, to start. He was sweet, kind, and thoughtful for three months. Then I moved in with him, and I didn’t change, but he did.”

  She prayed, fervently, for the floor beneath her chair to disappear and a whirlpool to drag her from the room.

  Ray clenched his fists and watched Special Agent Maxton hanging on to Cassi’s every word. The bastard already knew more about her than he did, probing through her life online, and he found he didn’t like that, not one bit.

  Cassi hunched into herself, refusing to meet Lisbon’s eyes, and Ray closed in. Thank God, she didn’t flinch when he brushed his hand on her shoulder and picked up the water. He had to try and get her stronger. Baiting her into bending to his will seemed the easiest means to stiffen her backbone. If he teased her into taking another drink of unpurified water, it’d either work or she’d think him an unprofessional jerk. Here goes.

  “Chin up, sweetheart. Good job telling them you’re a freak, but you’ve also made it clear you’re a liar.” Ray took a sip and braced.

  Cassi twisted to glare at him. “I haven’t said a single lie. And don’t call me sweetheart.”

  He grinned and winked. “You’re the cutest ten I’ve ever seen, and who doesn’t love a geeky nerd who only drinks straight vodka? Forget the water. I’ll send Agent Turner there out to find a liquor store.” He reached to chuck her under the chin. “You know, a girl stuck in a rut who does all the cooking, cleaning, and won’t adapt is every guy’s dream.”

  The flush on her face grew scarlet. She jerked her head aside. “Stop petting me.”

  He tipped the bottle toward her. She grabbed it, and his heartbeat skipped as she drank.

  Lisbon arched her brows at him, and he fought his smirk. Christ, Cassi was easy. Reverse psychology, and he could get the stubborn girl to do anything, and there were so many things he’d like to get her to do. He’d give anything if he could snap his fingers and empty this room of all but himself and Cassi, dropping an empty bottle from her limp fingers, staring at nothing as if she were in a dream she couldn’t wake up from.

  Lisbon sighed. Loud and overly dramatic. “Glad that’s settled.” She turned to Maxton, who tugged his gawk from Cassi. “Well? What are we doing here, agent?”

  “Waiting for the FBI boss to get back. Cassi, I’d like to keep your laptop longer.”

  “Whatever,” she mumbled.

  “I forwarded the order you placed through a distributor for a distiller from Clearwater Company to techs at FBI headquarters as soon as I booted up. I’m getting an answer now.” Maxton stared at the screen. “Looks like your shipping labels were placed on another order. Same street name as your apartment, but a town called Evans Point, not Evans, a suburb of Denver, and a C. Smith in the state of Wyoming, instead of a Colorado. The ZIP codes are off.”

  “I’m sitting here, and Pete’s dead because someone mismatched labels?”

  “Yes,” Maxton said. “We haven’t determined if it was accidental or deliberate. The reason we’ve kept you in this room instead of taking you directly to the police station, where mishaps can happen along the way, is that a woman named Alice Banker who worked in a sorting warehouse the boxes were shipped from is dead. Killed early last night, execution-style, with same caliber weapon as Deming.”

  Cassi gaped at Maxton.

  “They got into the system, figured out what happened, and learned Cassi’s address from this woman?” Ray asked.

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “Pete Deming killed but an hour or so ago,” Ray said. “Good chance they don’t know we’ve taken the guns and they’ll be frantic to find Cassi.”

  “You’re a smart one, detective, except there is no we.” Maxton turned to Lisbon. “The FBI will take over from here. Cassi won’t be let out of our sight until suspects are apprehended.”

  Ray scowled. Goddamn federal prick. “Right,” he drawled. “You’ll set her up as bait?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Maxton eyeballed him. “You can leave. Now.”

  “Lisbon, no. We can’t let these dicks call the shots.”

  “We don’t have much choice. You okay to drive?” Lisbon stood.

  The chair slid back as Cassi shot to her feet. “If you’d stop talking about me like I’m not here, I’d like to understand a couple things.”

  Maxton smiled and nodded at her. The bastard.

  “I’m not under any suspicion of anything other than ordering a legal product with my correct name and shipping address.”

  “Yes.”

&nb
sp; “Then you have no right to keep me here, take me somewhere, do whatever.”

  Maxton frowned. “You need protection.”

  Cassi clenched her fists. “Don’t tell me what I need. I don’t want, haven’t asked for any protection. What I am asking for is my car keys. You can keep my laptop, although it’d be nice if I had one I could use.”

  “For what?” Ray asked.

  “I was planning on staying somewhere until I can figure out my life. Now I’m thinking I’ll go to this town of Evans Point. Last year, I met a woman online in a group of bloggers where water purists hang out. Her name is Anne Jensen, and I know this is a big coincidence, but honestly, she happens to be from Evans Point, Wyoming, and she’s involved in setting up a hydroponic greenhouse that’s underground.” Cassi turned those huge brown eyes on Maxton. “Look back a couple months. I haven’t messaged her in awhile, but I know she remembers me.”

  Ray’s stomach dropped. “You want to check this town out? Use her as a reason for visiting and see if you can learn who’s behind Pete’s death?”

  “Yes.”

  Maxton was busy reading further in Cassi’s message history.

  Lisbon stepped closer to her. “We have trained agents who could do that.”

  Cassi shook her head. “Anne has seen my picture, and no way could someone else pretend to be as wacko about water as me. It’s a disease. One that isn’t easily faked.”

  “She’s right,” Ray told Lisbon.

  Maxton snapped his head up. “She’s a civilian.”

  “Screw you,” Cassi mumbled at Maxton. “Just because I can’t shoot someone between the eyes doesn’t mean I’m worthless.”

  Ray inched closer. He angled the chair, laid careful hands on her, and pressured her into it. “You’ve been up all night. How about we vacate this room, and you rest while we talk about this.” He glanced and smiled to himself. Maxton was frowning at Ray’s hands remaining on her shoulders. He’d waggle his tongue at the guy and say neener neener, but Lisbon had that about-to-pull-out-her-weapon expression.

  Cassi slumped. “I can’t sleep.”