The Fixer

by HelenKay Dimon

  “I wasn’t aware you still had friends,” her father said, stepping right into a subject they’d battled about for years. “I was under the impression you pushed them away, including Tyler. I hear he’s in town.”

  The shot qualified as the one too many. Emery shut it all down. “We’re not arguing about this. We are absolutely done here.”

  Her father looked at Wren. “Do you have a business card?”

  “No.”

  She stepped back, almost slipped her arm through Wren’s but stopped herself in time. “We’re leaving.”

  “Emery, stop. We need to talk this through like adults.”

  Wren started to leave then turned around and looked at her father again. “One question. Where were you the night Tiffany disappeared?”

  Her father stilled. “Excuse me?”

  Wren shrugged. “It’s a fair question.”

  “In the house with Emery.”

  “All night?” Wren asked.

  Emery had never seen her father thrown off that fast. She felt a kick of guilt over how much she enjoyed his wide-eyed stammering.

  Her father walked to the door and opened it, ushering them out. “You had your one question. I’ll leave the rest of my answers to the person who actually takes over the investigation.”

  “A change in investigators is not going to happen.” That was one issue she would not budge on.

  “Sorry.” Wren smiled. “She’s the boss.”

  “We’ll discuss this later.” Rage vibrated in her father’s tone as he talked to her.

  “No, we won’t.” And she vowed to make that true.

  They hit the outside and the fresh air. Despite the start of evening the weather hadn’t turned. Heat still rolled off the driveway. Not that she felt much of anything anyway.

  Her fingers were trembling so hard that she fumbled with the car door. She was about to give up when Wren’s arm reached around her. He opened it, and watched her climb inside before closing it again. She sat there, waiting for him and ignoring her father as he stood on the front porch scowling.

  Wren didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Started the car and backed out onto the street. Half a block later he pulled over and put it in park. “That went well.”

  “Right.” That’s all she could manage. The whole scene was frustrating and a bit embarrassing. She felt as if she regressed to a scared little girl every time she spent time with her father. She talked tough and held her own, but their relationship was so unhealthy. So skewed to him demanding and her ignoring.

  Wren reached his arm over and balanced it on the side of her seat. “Are you okay?”

  “He treats me like I’m still a kid.” And sometimes she let him because that was easier, but she had to fight that tendency. It only made things worse in the long run.

  “I’m sure that’s related to Tiffany’s disappearance. Knowing you could have been with her when she disappeared had to exact a toll.”

  She had a therapist years ago who said the same thing. Her father didn’t know how to relate to a child and he had these fears and they made his feelings come out all wrong. Blah, blah, blah. “Don’t be logical. I want to be irrationally angry right now.”

  “Seems fair.” Wren’s fingers slipped through her hair. “The way I see it is you fight him and demand to be heard. That’s the important thing. I love that you don’t back down. It’s impressive.”

  She rested her head against the seat and stared at him. “Thanks for supporting me.”

  “You can count on that.”

  Those eyes. That face. Yeah, she was falling, all right. “I’m starting to.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Later that night they stood on opposite sides of Wren’s big bed. They’d watched some mindless television while she tried to unwind from the visit with her father. A dinner and a shower later and it was almost eleven.

  The time didn’t matter. The lack of sleep didn’t bother him. He wanted to crawl under the covers and lose himself in her. Wipe away all the questions of the day and the constant analysis running through his brain about Tiffany and what really happened to her. Mostly, he wanted Emery.

  Watching her struggle with her father and not cave in to him impressed Wren. She carried this huge weight almost all alone and didn’t break down. He kept waiting for it, but she stayed strong. At times he wondered if she stayed too strong. There was only so much a person could take.

  He’d worked his pain out on a shooting range and through the slow destruction of his marriage years ago. Emery didn’t have any refuge. Even her work centered on loss. She forced herself to move forward and built a life around the one person she might never see again. That wallowing in so much pain could destroy something deep inside. At least it had in him.

  He watched her now. She rubbed some sort of lotion on her hands and up and down her bare legs. A nightly ritual that went along with brushing her teeth and combing her hair.

  The bikini underwear and T-shirt covered enough to send his imagination running on a wild journey. If he got a vote she could skip the clothes. He only peeled them off once they got into bed anyway. There, skin touched skin. He didn’t want any barriers other than the condom.

  But there was a pretty big wall standing between them right now. She’d been distracted all night. Physically there, but her vision stayed clouded and she seemed to be a step behind in every conversation. Not her usual style at all. Hell, he usually had trouble keeping up with her, but he’d spent most of dinner repeating whatever mundane thing he said to burn through time. She hadn’t really been paying attention and, instead, spent long periods staring off into space.

  He knew one topic that might remove the haze.

  “He knows we’re sleeping together,” Wren said as he pulled back the comforter and caught the pillow he sent tumbling toward the floor.

  She snapped the cap back on the bottle and put it on the chest of drawers. “Here’s a little hint, Levi. Don’t talk about my father when we’re standing near the bed and you want to have sex.”

  Yeah, she looked wide awake now. He was grateful for that, at least. “Noted.”

  She tilted her head to the side and removed one earring then the other. Just one of the steps she worked through without even thinking about them. He pretty much took off his clothes and brushed his teeth. No big production. He didn’t really care how long it took her because he could watch her for hours. But he’d rather touch her.

  He slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her and let them lay on her stomach. Pulling her back, he balanced her weight against his. Smiled in her hair when she brought up her hands to cover his. She didn’t fake this part. She was open and affectionate. She knew what she wanted and seemed to enjoy touching him as much as he loved touching her.

  “It’s late.” It seemed chivalrous to mention that. They both needed sleep.

  “Not that late.”

  “You always know the right thing to say.” He kissed the side of her head.

  She laughed as she turned in his arms. Her face glowed in the room’s soft light and those eyes, so big and intelligent, focused on him. No clouds or haze lingered there now.

  “Sometimes I know what to do.”

  He had no idea what she meant, but her sexy smile had him thinking good things. “Oh, really?”

  She shoved against his chest. The move normally wouldn’t have much impact, but he stepped away because she seemed to want him to. When she pushed a second time, the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he finally got it. He let his body fall until his ass hit the mattress.

  He’d barely pushed up on his elbows when she climbed on top of him. The peek down her shirt as she crawled up his body told him she left the bra in the bathroom. He was about to thank her for that when her head dropped and she began kissing his chest. At first, small nibbles over his shirt then her fingers slid up and under. Her palms flattened on his chest as her legs straddled his hips.

  While she shoved his shirt to his neck, her soft
hair brushed over his shoulder. Every touch, every kiss, lit his skin on fire. He had to ball his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her, turning her over and plunging inside of her.

  But no. She ran this show. The seduction, the speed—all her. Even if it killed him.

  Her mouth traveled down his stomach to the top of his boxer briefs. Leaning back, she studied him. Ran her hand over the growing bulge in his shorts. Touched every inch before bending down and fitting her mouth over him through the material.

  He almost flew off the bed. The sensation—the rough friction of his underwear and nip of her teeth—had him opening his legs to give her more access. His heart hammered and his breathing sped to heart attack range. When she did it again he drove his shoulders into the mattress and lifted his hips toward her mouth just to get closer.

  But she had other ideas. She controlled time.

  Her hand replaced the caress of her mouth. She outlined his shape until his erection pressed against the material. Then she peeled the briefs off. Slow and making sure to brush the elastic over his sensitive tip.

  “Fuck, Emery.”

  “Eventually.” She took him in her hand. Pumped up and down. “But I’m in charge now.”

  She sure as hell was. This would haunt his dreams. Her touch. That hot, sweet mouth. When she slid him between her lips he slammed his teeth together to keep from moaning. Closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the feel of her tongue as she surrounded him.

  She licked and sucked and instinct kicked in. He started thrusting into her mouth without any signal from his brain. He tried to hold back, but she set the pace. She held him. Swallowed him.

  Looking down, he saw her there, curled over his upper thighs. Her hair fanning out and her eyes closed. Over and over he watched his length disappear into her mouth. Felt her tongue sweep over him.

  His control broke.

  He tried to warn her, to say something, but his body took over. His hand moved and his fingers slipped into her hair. The tightening inside him exploded and his ass lifted off the bed. He came as his body bucked. Kept moving while she squeezed him in her hand and held him in her mouth.

  When he finished he fell back on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to slow his heartbeat. To get his pulse back within normal range. He concentrated on the white paint and studied the light fixture. Anything to bring his body back under control.

  Then her face floated above him. She slid over him and balanced her elbows on either side of his head. “Are you okay there, stud?”

  “Pretty fucking perfect.” He somehow managed to lift a hand and trail it down to the small of her back. Slip his fingers under the waistband to cup her ass. “So are you, by the way.”

  “I’ve been dying to do that.”

  That wasn’t a comment he heard every day. “You should feel free to do that anytime. Really, I volunteer. You have an automatic green light.”

  She smiled and her happiness was enough to light up the room. “I meant to see you lose it.”

  That wasn’t anything new. “I go half-mad every time I push inside you.”

  “That’s so romantic.” The amusement was right there in her voice.

  God, he loved being with her. Not just the sex, though that was pretty spectacular. Everything. The talking, the joking. Most people considered him humorless. With her, he felt less stiff. More human. A bit like the guy he was before everything changed, only without the irresponsibility part.

  “What does Owari mean?” she asked as she traced the outline of his mouth with her fingertip.

  He had to force his mind to catch up to the new topic. “Wow, that question came out of nowhere.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows. “I have so many.”

  “Really?” As far as he was concerned he’d been a pretty open book. She knew more than even the other Quint Associates guys, and he’d known them for years. Suffered and trained with them.

  “Do you know how tempting it is to snoop through your house while you’re asleep?” She moved her leg over his. “With everything that’s been going on and your tendency to rush me into bed right after dinner, I’ve seen, maybe, four rooms and know there are many more.”

  He bent his arm under his head so that he could lift up and see her better. “You can go anywhere.”

  She snorted. “Right. Because you wouldn’t lose your shit if you saw me pawing through your desk.”

  He hoped she wouldn’t feel the need, but he let that go. “Try me.”

  She pulled up a little and stared down at him. “Are you kidding?”

  “Do you want the official house tour?” He squeezed her ass. “I mean, there are other things I’d rather do now that my underwear is almost off.”

  “Later.”

  Not the clearest answer she’d ever given him, so he tried again. “The house tour or the underwear thing?”

  “We can come back to a discussion of your underwear.”

  “I was afraid that’s what you meant.” He groaned as she sat up, using his body for leverage.

  She stood and fixed her underwear. Unfortunately, put it back on rather than took it off. “Well?”

  “You want to go right now? As in, this second?” Her timing really sucked.

  “Were you just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear when you offered?”

  She had to know that would get him moving. That pretty much guaranteed it.

  “Oh, woman.” He shifted his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The T-shirt came off, but he pulled the boxer briefs back up. “The end.”

  “What?”

  “Roughly translated, Owari means ‘the end’ in Japanese.” He held out his hand to her.

  She came around from her side of the bed and slipped her fingers through his. “I don’t get the significance.”

  The simple touch felt right. Kind of perfect actually. “It signaled the end of my life as it was then.”

  She made an ahhh sound. “A start of a new one.”

  He knew she’d get it. “Exactly.”

  It took him about fifteen minutes to take her through the house, and that was only because he stopped to feel her up twice. After studying all the floors and opening every closet door for her to inspect, something she declined to do, they ended up in his study. His favorite room and private sanctuary. It was more of a library, really. Walls lined with bookshelves. He didn’t get rid of books, so the paperbacks were stacked two-deep.

  She walked around the room, touching the side of this book and taking a few out to page through. “This is an impressive collection.”

  “Said the professor’s daughter.”

  “Oh, my father would not be happy with your selection. Mysteries, Wren? Don’t you know popular fiction ruins the mind?” She pitched her voice lower, mimicking her dad.

  He loved the joking. The ease of being with her.

  He rested against the edge of his oversized desk. “Then I’m in trouble because that’s what I stockpile.”

  “I know it sounds weird, but I didn’t imagine you as a reader.”

  That didn’t sound too great for him. “Is this that not human thing again?”

  “Oh, trust me. I see you very much as a flesh-and-blood man.” She let her gaze wander over him before turning to slide one of the books back into its assigned spot. “No, it’s about the time commitment. You strike me as a guy who works fifty hours a day and doesn’t leave much extra for play.” She glared at him. “And don’t correct me. I was going for exaggeration.”

  “Reading clears my head.” When he was younger, it saved him. All those years of his father being a suspect but not arrested. Wren lost himself, escaped his world, in books about heroes vanquishing demons, and slaying dragons and solving mysteries.

  She leaned back against one of the bookcases. “I haven’t seen you do it since I got here.”

  “The time I usually spend unwinding with a book I’ve spent with you.”

  “Sorry about that.” She didn’t sound sorry.

&n
bsp; Neither was he. “I’m not.”

  “Sweet talker.”

  He walked around the desk and slid into his chair. Rubbed his thumb over the worn leather on the armrest. “You can help yourself to anything in here. Anything in the house.”

  “You’re not ready for me to leave so that you can get back to your bachelor days?”

  She seemed to forget they were dating. The word still sounded weird to him, but the idea of having her around didn’t. “I want you to stay.”

  She pushed off from the wall and stalked toward him. “That’s a pretty big comment.”

  “Why do you think I’m sitting down?” He shoved the chair back so there was a bit of space between his legs and the desk. Just enough room for her.

  “I’ll join you.” She didn’t wait. With one leg on either side of him, she sank down on his lap. Faced him and didn’t look away. “This is nice.”

  His hands went to her hips to hold her steady. There was a floor between them and the nearest condom, so they needed to be a little careful. “Damn right.”

  “You asked about my father’s whereabouts on the night Tiffany disappeared to tick him off, right?”

  Wren whistled. “That is a huge conversation shift.”

  For a second he wondered if he’d been set up to have the difficult conversation in a fun position. Thought about it and discarded it. She was not the type to play games. She’d been fine to tell him what she wanted, when she wanted it.

  She shrugged. “It’s been bugging me.”

  “I’m double-checking everything.” That wasn’t a lie. He was going through every statement, analyzing every angle. There wasn’t much about her father in the police files, and that bugged Wren. So did wasting time talking about the guy now. “Any chance we can focus on something other than your father for the rest of the night?”

  “Depends. Do you think this chair will hold us if the dirty talk gets out of hand?” She put her hands on the back and shook it a little.

  He righted them before they lost balance. “The condoms are upstairs.”

  “We can still make out down here. Consider it foreplay.”

  That sounded like the perfect solution to him. “I love the way you think.”