Groomed for Murder (Going to the Dogs)

by Dawson, Zoe

  “We know you didn’t kill her. You couldn’t hurt a fly,” Poe said softly, slipping her arm around Brooke’s shoulder.

  Brooked leaned into her, her heart full. These women were here for her, supporting her like a family. It was what she had wanted for so long, and, now she was afraid it was all going to be taken away.

  “Exactly,” Harper said, her blue eyes crackling with more anger than Brooke had ever seen the calm, collected Harper show. “She’s more worried about that dead bitch than she is about her own skin. Brooke, you will stop worrying about Kristen and start worrying about you. It is unfortunate that she’s dead, but she’s beyond your help, or anyone’s help, for that matter, except our Maker.”

  Callie wiped at her own tears and nodded. “Agreed. Stop being so soft-hearted. It’s regrettable that she’s dead, but you are very much alive and totally innocent. Tell us what you have in mind for the dresses, then.”

  “Are you sure you have the time to design and make them?” Poe asked.

  “Plenty. With the media circus, I won’t be able to go into work or the shelter or…anywhere. And it will give me something to focus on. You know me. I’ll need a distraction if I’m not at Pawlish.”

  When they got to her apartment, there were more reporters. Her three friends hugged her once more and promised to be in touch. They also told her to call them any time, day or night. Then she rushed from the limo to her apartment building.

  Once inside, she went up to her apartment. Thankfully, the doorman had kept everyone out of the building.

  When the elevator opened, Brooke stopped dead. Then with a cry of relief she rushed forward and threw her arms around Drew.

  He pulled her close.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I know you didn’t kill her.”

  She raised her head and nodded, wiping at her tears. “I didn’t.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, it’s supposed to be our first date night. Not exactly the fun time I envisioned.”

  He shook his head, solemn.

  “What’s wrong?” Finally she noticed the envelope in his hand. “What is that?”

  “It’s the paperwork for the wrongful death suit Roger has filed against you.”

  Blood drained out of her face. So he was selling her out again. It seemed ridiculous she’d wasted even a second thinking otherwise. It was fine when there was no threat to him and his job. The blood came rushing back, flushing her cheeks until they felt scorching hot, as she realized how easy she’d made it for him. Key word being easy. She just stood there, her heart lurching in her chest.

  “How nice that he got you to deliver it.” Her flat voice made his mouth tighten.

  He held her gaze.

  “Are you going to go through with prosecuting me?”

  “Yes.”

  For a moment she was speechless. She stepped away from him, her back hitting the door. She fumbled for the knob, tore her eyes away from him and turned, struggling to get her key into the lock before she totally broke down.

  She shoved at him and opened the door with every intention of slamming it in his face. The depth of the ache in her heart cut so deep, if it had been real, she would have collapsed and died.

  Before she could close the door in his face, he pushed his way in. The envelope dropped to the floor as he used the flat of his hand to stop the door from closing. He took her arm gently but firmly as she brushed by and turned her around to face him.

  “How could you? Everything you said was a lie. The minute it got hard, you bailed on me. Again.” She fought against his hold, against the emotions annihilating her. She wanted nothing more than this conversation to be over. Torn apart by his actions and on the brink of a total meltdown, she had to get him to leave.

  She tried to tell herself that what happened back at the bakery wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened between them before. It had been every bit as explosive as it had always been, he’d pushed her to places no one else did, but at the end of it, nothing had changed.

  So what if he’d made an effort to be emotionally intimate immediately after their physical urges were sated? He wanted what he wanted. And, yes, it had been surprising how easy he’d made it for her to slip into the role of lover and friend, not just sex partner. Miles and miles away from enemy. But just because she had let her guard down a little, enjoyed herself some, didn’t mean he couldn’t as easily decide she was too much of a liability. Her chest ached and she pushed against him, lost in her own misery. Finally, the words he was saying penetrated.

  “No, I didn’t bail on you, and you’re not the one I lied to today.”

  That gave her pause and—she was such a fool—hope. “What is that supposed to mean?” she said, trying to maintain the steely façade, thinking her heart might beat straight out of her chest any second. Did the terror show in her eyes?

  “The only reason I took the suit was so he wouldn’t assign it to anyone else. I’ll pretend to work on it, but it’s not important. What’s important is figuring this all out. You can—”

  “What? Trust you?” She tried to yank free, but he didn’t let her. “Your track record with me isn’t exactly stellar. You have a very high stake in this, but my very life is on the line here. I can’t afford to make a mistake and trust the wrong person.”

  “I can understand why you’re wary of me. Everything you said is true. But I know you didn’t kill Kristen and I have no intention of letting anyone—Roger or the police—railroad you into giving up anything, whether it be your assets or yourself. We are in this together.”

  His gaze locked on hers, so intent, so focused. So trustworthy and steady. Still, she wavered. It was too big a thing to leave to a split-second judgment call. Maybe she would see by the end of this what kind of man he really wanted to be. “Together?” she whispered.

  “Yes, Brooke.” He took both of her arms and then pulled her closer. “Together.”

  Chapter Nine

  She didn’t dare hope he was sincere. Even though he was risking a lot, she couldn’t quite let go of that small, protective kernel of skepticism.

  “Come on. Sit down,” he said as he moved her towards the sofa. She collapsed against the cushions and Roscoe came to lie down at her feet. Thank goodness she hadn’t had to stay in jail overnight. Jail. Roscoe made a soft noise of comfort, as if he knew she was in distress.

  She slipped off the sofa and settled her back against it, pulling Roscoe’s head onto her lap. He looked up at her with such a comforting warmth in his eyes that she couldn’t help smiling in spite of everything. His fur was silky under her palm, and as she stroked him some of her anxiety melted away.

  Many people would no doubt think it was silly the way she doted on him. But he had been there for her every minute since she’d seen him in that litter of puppies. Their gazes had connected, and that was it.

  He had her trust one hundred percent. Drew, on the other hand, was still an unknown. After finding out about the real reason he had pursued her, he couldn’t expect her to throw off her wariness. He’d taken the assignment of the wrongful death suit against her, just as he had taken the lawsuit. She couldn’t help but think it was a passive way for him to keep his job while helping her.

  Of course, quitting his job was not something he could take lightly. He did have an expensive lifestyle to maintain. She understood about survival. She just didn’t want to surrender to her feelings for him and then find out later it had been a sham. Or for him to realize once the crisis was over that he’d been too hasty. But in the hall, he had seemed so sincere.

  She took a few minutes to check Roscoe’s blood sugar and was satisfied with the result.

  Her kettle whistled and she heard cups clinking. A few minutes later Drew came back into the living room carrying a tray with two cups and a muffin for her.

  He set it down on the coffee table. “I’m not sure what you take in your tea.”

  “You made me tea?”

  “Sure. Isn’t that
what you do in a crisis? That’s what my mother did when she needed to calm down.”

  Brooke took a sip of the hot tea and went to settle back against the sofa, but Drew shifted so that instead of leaning back against the cushions, she nestled into a bulwark of firm muscles that were much more satisfying then the soft sofa.

  “And did apple and cinnamon make it all better, too?”

  He smiled, his eyes full of memories. “It didn’t hurt.”

  She smiled then and dropped her temple against his jaw.

  He slipped his arm around her, his hand toying with a lock of her hair, his tea remaining untouched.

  “I’m worried about you. I can take care of the rest, but I can’t take care of you unless you let me.”

  “Maybe I would rather take care of other people. It gives me purpose.”

  “I have no doubt. I’ve seen you in action, but even with your kind heart, you need to think about yourself every once and a while. Right now, for example.”

  His hand cupped her shoulder, snuggling her another inch closer. “I know it’s hard to accept help from anyone. Trust me, I know. Especially someone you don’t know well and have reason not to trust. I wouldn’t have thought I’d get caught up in you. I never get involved with anyone, on any side of anything I view as work-related. You took me by surprise.”

  Then she turned in his arms so she could see his face. “So did you,” she said, without meaning to, which only caused his gaze to intensify, something she hadn’t thought possible.

  “I’ve seen you in action, Brooke. Your gentleness with Roscoe, the innate strength you have, with him, with those around you, your big, open heart, your confidence, your ease with yourself and with everyone else. Your convictions. You drew me in without even trying. Now you have me.”

  She didn’t know what to say. As a means of getting her to lower her barriers, she had to admit it was pretty damn convincing. Being this close, looking into his eyes, she saw no sign of dishonesty, no indecision. He was either very, very good at this, or he was telling her the absolute truth. She sighed and turned back so she could rest her back against his chest. She wished the stakes weren’t so high.

  “I’ve only really ever cared about my sister. And I did a poor job at that.”

  “What? Giving her a stable home, providing for her needs, keeping your family together, sending her to Princeton, and even helping her with her wedding? You’ve got to be kidding me. She loves you, Drew. Anyone with eyes can see that. I’m pretty sure a blind man would recognize it. It’s that potent.”

  “I was absent making a living and missed so much in her life.”

  “You did what you had to do.”

  He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then very lightly ran his fingertip along her cheekbone and down along her chin.

  The brief contact made her shiver, but in a good way. He talked about commanding attention. He had no idea.

  “You’re making an effort now to be in her life more. That’s what is important.” She shook her head. “We’re a pair. I had a family who didn’t want me and you lost yours. It makes me wonder if we know anything at all.”

  “I know this,” he said softly. He bent his head and hers fell back, giving him access to her mouth. It wasn’t rough or aggressive, but hot. Burning hot. Warm, moist lips meeting hers, open, inviting, offering.

  He smiled when his head came up. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk Roscoe for you. I’m sure you want a shower after what you’ve been though.”

  She fought the urge to smile. “You’re going to walk Roscoe.”

  Roscoe’s head came up at the sound of his name and walk in the same sentence. He got up and padded to the door, looking back at them.

  “Looks like he’s ready.”

  “Of course he is. He gets a dog treat when he gets back.”

  “Ah, bribery.”

  “It’s not…okay, maybe a bit of bribery.” She did smile then. How did he do that? Her life was careening out of control…and he was making her smile. Like she had nothing better to do than sit here in her cozy living room and flirt. Only this wasn’t about flirting. This was extreme relationship construction. Something she doubted either would have engaged in if the situation had been different.

  “I thought you didn’t really care for dogs.”

  It was his turn to smile. As he rose, he said, “He’s growing on me.”

  “Don’t keep him out for more than fifteen minutes, and make sure to put on his sweater before you go. When he gets back, you can feed him one of the dog treats. His blood sugar is good.”

  “Right, bulldogs are susceptible to both heat and cold.”

  “Oh, did a little research? Was that part of your plan to woo me into settling out of court?”

  “No. After that scare with him, I looked them up on line and read a little bit. If he’s important to you, I wanted to be prepared.”

  Her heart slid and went bump. The sensation was exactly like her legs going out from under her, but she was still sitting with the sofa as a backrest. He’d done research after Roscoe’s scare so he could help if there was another emergency? The sincerity on his face made her almost wish she hadn’t thought those things about him.

  This was bad. She was only getting in deeper, but she couldn’t or didn’t want to fight it. Right here, right now she was seeing the real Drew. Not his lawyer face, that tough gladiator that had to fight the lions in that treacherous corporate world, but the man who wanted to do the right thing. The man who wanted justice.

  Kristen had lost her life and Brooke felt the pang in her heart because of that. Sure, she wasn’t the most pleasant person, but they had come to an agreement. She had to be careful. She was in so much trouble right now, and if she didn’t find a way to prove her innocence, she was going to prison for murder.

  Her stomach tumbled over and over. She pushed up from the floor, suddenly feeling urgently in need of that hot shower. He was in the hall, murmuring to Roscoe as he got him into his sweater. It was so sweet. She hadn’t realized he had it in him.

  Pausing for a moment, she let that roll around in her head, partly because it pushed the return of fear and panic to the edges of her mind for a few more precious seconds, and partly because she couldn’t help but wonder what, in fact, did come next for them. The events currently unfolding could end up robbing her of the opportunity to find out, but that didn’t stop her from thinking about what she’d want, if it were up to her.

  By the time she got to the shower, her emotions were swamping her and, even though she reached for the calm, the core of steel inside herself, the tears gathered and flowed down her cheeks.

  #

  There were reporters still outside her building, and they would probably be camping here around the clock so they didn’t miss her. The smell of this story for them was like the whiff of a really good meal when ravenous. He wasn’t a big fan of the media.

  He garnered some attention when he exited the building, but when they realized he wasn’t Brooke, they soon lost interest. He took Roscoe down the block slowly, letting the dog enjoy his surroundings.

  Finally Roscoe found a good spot and did his business. It was cold outside, his breath frosting the air, but walking with the dog opened his mind and blew out the cobwebs.

  She clouded his thinking, and he hadn’t had time to do much of that since Roger had burst into his office. He’d run on impulse, and the first instinct he’d had was to protect Brooke. It could mean his job, his position at the firm, the loss of his partnership, but he hadn’t thought about any of that.

  He’d only thought of her.

  He’d be walking a fine line here. He couldn’t abandon her, no matter the consequences, but there was also risk.

  Right now, the first order of business was getting her cleared of this murder charge. Drew entered her apartment and took the sweater off Roscoe, who immediately went into the kitchen and stood near the counter. She had said he could have the dog treat, so Drew reached into th
e canister to snag one. He smiled when he pulled out…a Frisbee. He noticed she had a kite, red ball, and even a chew toy in there.

  “Sit,” he said. Roscoe immediately plopped down on his rump. Drew smiled at Roscoe’s brown eyes tracking his every move. He was a well-behaved old boy. Well, all except that ripping out the seat of his pants thing, but he couldn’t hold that against him. He was protecting Brooke, and Drew approved. He squatted down and held out his hand. “Shake?”

  The dog eyed the treat and then Drew’s hand. He woofed and lifted his paw. Drew felt like he’d hit a home run.

  He gave the dog his treat.

  Eager to tell Brooke about their one-on-one bonding, he headed down the hall. As he entered the bedroom, he could see through the open bathroom door. Brooke was standing in the middle of the room, her hair wet, a towel wrapped around her. She was sobbing uncontrollably.

  There was total utter silence in the room, except for the broken, hopeless weeping. Those cries clawed at his heart, shredding it like nothing ever had in his life.

  In the past, even so much as a week ago, he would have probably retreated, slipped out of the room and left her to her breakdown.

  But she’d changed him in that short span of time, and he couldn’t turn away from her if his life depended on it.

  He went to her bureau and searched through each drawer until he found what he was looking for. His hand fell on a lacy garment on top, and although there was no doubt in his mind he would love to see Brooke in it, this wasn’t about him. He dug deeper and found an old, well-worn, long t-shirt. He was sure she’d be comfortable in this. He entered the bathroom and dropped the nightwear on the back of the commode. He slipped his arms around her and lifted her against his chest.

  “Drew,” she said, her voice clogged with tears. “I’m all wet.”

  “I’m not the wicked witch of the west,” he said softly against the damp shell of her ear. “I’m the Phantom, and a little water won’t hurt me.”