Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs)

by Dawson, Zoe

  Okay, part of him was hard, and it was hard to ignore it. Despite her little speech earlier, her desire for Drew Hudson hadn’t eased one whit.

  But sex in a public place really wasn’t her style. His sister and Callie were only one room over. She could hear the murmur of their voices. The small room they hid in had a door and didn’t look like it was used very often. She could only pray that no one walked in on them.

  He was a smart man with intelligence in spades. She had no doubt he would have done his job and crushed her in court. Wasn’t it enough that he had a body that wouldn’t quit? He had to have a tantalizing mind as well? She shuddered. And her gaze was drawn to the primal look in his eyes. The kind of look a man had when he had every intention of fighting.

  Winning.

  She forced herself to look away. “Weddings,” she managed. “We really should get back—”

  “I want to have my cake, and eat it, too. Don’t you?”

  It was simple. All she had to do was keep her hands at her sides, or anywhere but on Drew. He wouldn’t push her if she refused.

  She looked up at him. “Sometimes the calories aren’t worth it.”

  He laughed, the deep sound rumbling through his chest, a chest she remembered running her hands over all too well.

  “You’re driving me so crazy, I can’t think straight.”

  “Join the club,” she muttered, knowing he heard her when his smile grew.

  “Sometimes the calories are worth it.” He lifted her onto the metal counter so unexpectedly, her hands went to his shoulders to steady herself. “Maybe more talking isn’t the answer.”

  She glanced down at his hands still on her waist. They almost spanned the full circumference. She accepted the shudder that rolled down her spine at the image of those strong fingers caressing her flesh, then collided with his gaze once again. “What was the question, again?” she asked.

  He shrugged, bunching up those firm shoulder muscles, and his lips curved. “I don’t know. Does it matter anymore?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know what this is.”

  “And there’s no curiosity on your part to find out?”

  “Curiosity killed the cat, and we went through all this only moments ago.”

  “Well, since the cat has nine lives, surely one can be sacrificed. It’s up to the cat.”

  What she needed was for him to shut up and drag her into his arms so she wouldn’t have to make up her own damn mind about all this. Take the decision out of her hands and drown her in so much sensation and pleasure she didn’t have to think. Not about this.

  “Decide?” she repeated. “What if I don’t really want this?” she whispered, brushing her mouth against his as he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. It was a last ditch effort, a plea for him to do what she could not and bring them both back from the brink of insanity.

  “Don’t you?”

  The warmth of his breath drew her gaze to his mouth. She wanted to feel his lips on her so badly she ached. “How do I know you won’t abandon me again if the going gets tough?”

  “I won’t. This…whatever it is…blindsided me. I was an ass,” he said quietly and, if she wasn’t mistaken, with real regret. “I don’t think I deserve you.”

  “You think you do now?”

  “No, but I want you. Do you believe in second chances? In forgiveness?”

  He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and it changed everything. How it made her want to react. All her life she’d wanted someone, anyone, to be there for her, completely, unconditionally. But giving herself over to him terrified her. She had Roscoe, and he loved her unconditionally, but each day that passed brought her closer to inevitably losing him. She had her friends, but now things were changing with them. Callie was busy, and she realized it was only a matter of time before she lost the others to their own lives.

  Her heart squeezed now, engaged despite her wishing it not to be, as he tenderly drew his fingers along the side of her neck, moving his mouth to the delicate line of her jaw, then following the trail of his fingertips.

  But she had no idea what thoughts were really going through his mind. She didn’t see how he could have an ulterior motive with Kristen out of the way. And so much of her was at risk of being seduced than her body.

  She swallowed against a suddenly tight throat. She stared at him, into eyes that held hers so solidly, so certainly.

  “Not a complete ass,” she said.

  His mouth twitched. “I can’t promise I won’t be an ass again. I’m still figuring this out. But I’ll try not to, for you.”

  She stared into his eyes, feeling the impact of every word, the absolute truth in them. Body shaking, lips trembling, she held that passionate gaze, held on to it tightly, and smiled. “We’ll have to see, won’t we? Right now, make it up to me.”

  He took her mouth this time like a man starved. There was nothing tender about it, not that it mattered at this point. She couldn’t think this to death. If this was a mistake, she would deal with it like she dealt with all the other disappointments in her life.

  Her hands sank into all that blond hair, the strands slithering like silk against her fingers. He was already tearing at his pants as he nudged her legs wider apart. His hands slipped down to her bottom and jerked her hips toward him, unable to breathe around the insistent need pulsating through her. She was already on the verge before he found the tops of her lacy thigh-highs and groaned against her mouth.

  She barely registered the sound of the foil and his movements as his fingers found the edge of her panties and pushed them aside.

  He drove inside her and she cried out softly, burying her face in his neck, welcomed him, held him, moved in tandem with his hard, uncontrollable thrusts.

  The climax was like a rushing wave of pleasure that swamped her as she clutched at his nape, the drugging sensations escalating at the feel of his mouth, open and hot on her neck.

  He came then with a long, jerking groan. It was as if he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t pour enough of himself into her. It went beyond physical pleasure and well into some sort of primal mating. Earthy, essential, basic.

  When his breathing had quieted, he raised his head, tipped up her chin and kissed her, gently but firmly. She closed her eyes against the rush of emotion while they clutched each other, her chest so full of feelings she could barely breathe around them.

  After righting themselves, he left her and went to the men’s room. When she entered the cake tasting room, Callie and Emma were discussing a particularly delicious slice of chocolate cake cut into cubes.

  “There you are,” Callie said, taking in her flushed face.

  “Where’s Drew?”

  “I’m not sure. He got a phone call.”

  Emma’s lips thinned, when she fell for Brooke’s fabrication, but Callie didn’t. She eyed Brooke and said, “Did you get a phone call, too?”

  Callie hadn’t said booty call, but that was what she was implying. Brooke avoided her friend’s eyes and chirped, “This cake looks scrumptious. Let me have a taste.”

  Drew entered the room then, and the impact of him never seemed to lessen.

  “Oh, good. You’re finished with your phone call. I swear, Drew. Can’t you take an hour away from your job?”

  He looked puzzled until Brooke nudged him with an elbow to the side.

  “I’m sorry, Emma,” he said, giving Brooke an I’ll-get-you-for-that-later look.

  She couldn’t wait.

  #

  Brooke entered Pawlish and waved to her receptionist, Julia. As soon as Julia saw her, she came around the desk.

  “Brooke, wait,” she called out, but Brooke was too happy to stop. She twisted the doorknob to her office and opened it.

  She stopped dead. Two men in suits were going through the contents of her desk. “What the hell…”

  “Are you Brooke Palmer?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  One of the men approached her. “I’m Detective Jack Kauffman.”
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  “Detective?” she said trying to make sense of why the police were here in her office. “What kind of detective?”

  “Homicide,” he replied, reaching towards his back. When his hand swung free of his jacket everything seemed to slow down. He stepped toward her, handcuffs in his hands. The sun from her window glinted on the metal and he reached for her arm. The shock of the cold steel clamping around her wrists sent panic into her system like an injection.

  “You are under arrest for the murder of Kristen Wright-Davis.”

  Her mind refused to process the words, like the man had spoken some kind of foreign language or nonsense.

  “W-w-w-what are you saying?”

  “You’re under arrest. Let’s go.”

  Was this really happening? They couldn’t mean her. They couldn’t possibly mean she was a killer. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t decide on any course of action, because too many things were racing through her brain all at once. Kristen was dead?

  “But I just saw her and she was fine.” Kristen had been alive only hours ago, and now she was dead? She wasn’t a big fan of hers, but she would never wish her dead.

  “Exactly. Fine until you pushed her down the stairs and broke her neck.”

  “Pushed her? What are you talking about? I didn’t push her!” This couldn’t be happening. How could they think she did it? Frozen in shock, she only came alive again when Julia told her she’d call her friends. Her receptionist knew that calling her parents would be a waste of time. Her mind raced frantically while one detective hauled her from her office and out into the street to his car. The other detective, she presumed, was to stay and look for evidence.

  The cuffs were tight, and he barely got his hand on her head before it slammed into the side of the car as he shoved her into the back seat. For a moment she saw stars and the side of her head began to throb, a massive headache waiting in the wings to pounce while her thoughts raced. How could they think she had done this? Kristen had been alive and well before she’d left.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the Suffolk County jail.”

  “Long Island?”

  “It’s our jurisdiction, ma’am, and where Mrs. Wright-Davis was murdered.”

  “Murdered. I didn’t kill her.”

  “First things first. For now you’re going to be booked.”

  It wasn’t long before he stopped the car outside a municipal building. Her stomach dropped when he took her through a door and they stopped at a desk.

  She had to suffer through the indignity of being searched and forced to change into an orange jumpsuit. Through it all she held on to her emotions and bottled them up. It wouldn’t help to panic now. She didn’t kill Kristen.

  A guard took her fingerprints and her mug shot. Oh, God! Her mug shot. Then they put her into a small interrogation room.

  After a few moments, the two detectives from her office came into the room. The other man told her his name was Ray Flynn.

  “I’m not saying a word until I have my lawyer present.”

  They looked at each other.

  “You should get ahead of this Ms. Palmer. We’re thinking you had an argument. It got out of hand and you pushed her. You probably didn’t mean to do it. Accidental, I’m sure. It’ll go easier on you. The DA is more willing to cut you a deal now before all the legal mumbo jumbo.”

  “I didn’t kill Kristen by accident or design.”

  “The maid, Marta Gomez said you were there this morning arguing with Kristen. She said it was about a lawsuit.”

  “There was a lawsuit because her poodle Mimi had gotten a bad cut at Pawlish. But she was—”

  “So you admit you argued with her?”

  “It got worked out. She was dropping the lawsuit.”

  “Do you have any evidence of that? Because right now that’s your motive.”

  “I told my friend Poe right afterwards, but other than that, no,” Brooke said. “I don’t have any proof. It was a verbal agreement.”

  Just then the door opened and Harper Sinclair stood there with a tall, handsome man. “Don’t say another word, Brooke.”

  The two detectives sighed, picked up their folder and exited the room.

  Brooke burst into tears as Harper hugged her. “Roscoe?”

  “Poe’s going to take care of him for you until you get released.

  Brooke nodded. “Thank you. I don’t know how they could think I killed her. We had worked everything out. All she wanted was an invitation to Callie’s wedding and your tea parties,” she said through sobs.

  “Okay, everything will be fine. This is Adam Sanderson. He’s going to defend you.”

  He sat down. “Ms. Palmer, I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. Tell me what happened.”

  Brooke explained everything to him.

  “So she was alive when you left?”

  “Yes.”

  “According to the police report, she was found at the bottom of the stairs, her neck broken. They place you there at the time of the death.”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  He nodded. “All right. The next step is you’ll have to be locked up until your arraignment, which fortunately is this afternoon. Once we enter your plea, the judge will set bail.”

  #

  When Drew got back to his desk, he was still smiling. His door flew back and cracked against the wall. Roger stood in the doorway.

  “Where have you been!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Roger was pale, his eyes red. “What’s wrong? She killed my wife!”

  “What? Who killed…”

  “Brooke Palmer.”

  For a moment, Drew thought he had somehow fallen asleep somewhere and this was a nightmare. He saw Roger say her name, heard it with his own ears, but every fiber of his being rejected it.

  “That’s not possible. She wouldn’t do such a thing. It’s not possible.”

  “She’s dead, left at the bottom of the stairs of our Easthampton cottage like garbage. Marta told me she was there arguing with Kristen.”

  He remembered how Brooke had acted, how she had seemed. He’d seen her compassion when she’d fed the homeless, picked up her neighbor’s dry cleaning and he’d seen her fear and her pain when her dog was sick. There was no way Brooke killed Kristen.

  “Forget the lawsuit! I want you to start the paperwork on a wrongful death suit. And, this time, you take it to court and you bury her.”

  “Roger…”

  “You’re not going to argue with me. Are you? I’m sure Kevin would be happy to take care of this for me.”

  “No, sir. I’ll take the case.”

  “And you’ll bury her?” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I’ll bury her.”

  “I’ve got to get to the police station. I’ll see to it she gets the maximum sentence for this!” He staggered out of Drew’s office. In the silence, the news rolled around inside of him like a hollow point bullet, dealing irreparable damage. Drew woke up his computer and started the paperwork.

  #

  When it was time for her arraignment, one of the court officers escorted her to the courtroom. Adam was there waiting for her. Harper, Poe and Callie were in the front. All of them smiled their encouragement. The relief of seeing them there bolstered her spirits.

  When it came time for her to enter her plea, she said “Not guilty,” with conviction.

  The prosecuting attorney, a tall, blonde woman in a blue striped suit said, “We ask that the defendant be remanded without bail. She has powerful friends and a substantial bank account.”

  Adam stood up. “Your honor. We feel that is excessive. My client has ties to the business community. She also has friends and family in the area. She isn’t a flight risk.”

  The prosecutor said, “Your honor, Harper Sinclair handles a vast fortune. She has homes all around the world, helicopters, and even a Lear jet at her disposal. Due to these circumstances, we caution th
e court against releasing Brooke Palmer.”

  The judge was silent for a moment, then said, “Ms. Palmer has never been in trouble with the law, has an established business, and has been an upstanding citizen of New York. Due to the wealth at her disposal, bail is set at one million dollars.”

  He banged his gavel and she was escorted back to her cell. But it was only a few minutes before she was given her clothes, personal possessions and released.

  Outside of the cells, Harper, Poe and Callie waited for her. They enfolded her in a group hug, and she held on to them for a long time. Finally, she said, “Thank you to whoever paid my bail.”

  “I never got a chance to pay it,” Harper said looking at Poe and Callie.

  “My checkbook was ready,” Callie said, “but it wasn’t me.”

  “I don’t have a million dollars, so you know it wasn’t me.”

  “Who paid my bail?”

  “Well, let’s not worry about that right now. We should get you home.”

  Harper put her arm around her. “I’ve got the limo outside. Be ready. There are a lot of reporters. We’ll just push right through until we’re inside.”

  Brooke nodded, her stomach doing all kinds of flip-flops thinking about the media circus waiting for her.

  Once they reached the front of the police station, she could hear the babble of reporters, and as they opened the doors, flashes went off in the night like fireworks. It was full dark, and Brooke stumbled in the rush to the limo.

  Inside the limo they were all silent. Callie took Brooke’s hand and squeezed it.

  “I’m so sorry about all this,” Brooke whispered past the lump in her throat. Tears gathered in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. “I’ve ruined your wedding.”

  “No, don’t think about me right now,” Callie said. “We won’t let this stop us. We’ll forge ahead like none of this happened.”

  “I will need something to distract me,” Brooke, said, her hands twining in her lap.

  “We still have to decide on the bridesmaid dresses,” Poe said cheerily.

  “I’ve already looked. I don’t like a thing I’ve seen. But, I do have some ideas in my head. I could make them. That would help take my mind off this terrible nightmare. I just can’t believe that poor Kristen is dead.”