by Cait Jarrod
She giggled, “Already is,” and scratched his shaft with the tip of her finger as if it was a cat’s chin.
“Whoa.” He gripped her wrist. “Not yet.”
The electricity in the air snapped around them. She had no idea hanging out with a man could be so fun, exhilarating. “I’m sorry. I can’t resist. Go.”
The laugh lines around his eyes disappeared. He stared at his glass. “I want to tell you the rest of what happened between my father and me.”
By the seriousness of his voice, she sensed how much he needed to be able to talk without interruption. She draped an elbow over the chair’s back to prevent temptation.
His eyes drifted to her chest, desire shining before focusing on her face. “I told you I killed my father.”
“Yes,” she said, a lump parked in her throat and her mouth went dry.
“That’s only half true. My father held my hand on the gun. My finger was on the trigger when he applied pressure to discharge it.”
Charlene gaped. What type of man does that to his son?
No words were spoken for several minutes. She thought maybe he wanted to say more. When he remained silent, she tried to figure out why he withheld the details earlier. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”
She closed an eye and tried to comprehend his thoughts. “Come again?”
His stern expression softened into a smile. “I plan to, shortly.”
She swatted his bare knee at his irony. “Did you think the way the shooting happened makes a difference?”
“The thought crossed my mind. My father held my hand on the gun.” Larry rested his elbows on his thighs, his hands hung between his knees. He looked beaten. “How does a man not move his hand?”
“He didn’t let you!” Larry’s insistence that he was the bad guy in what happened to his father tore at her heart and infuriated her. Larry didn’t deserve any of the responsibility. “Why do you blame yourself for what he did?”
“It’s as if I shot and killed him.”
“Whoa! Back up, big guy.” She dropped to her knees in front of him and covered his hands with hers. “You did nothing wrong. He was sick. Any person in their right mind would see what a prize you are. You continually help your mother when she faults you, disowns you. Wait a sec.” She kissed his lips and uncurled.
This situation demanded the harder stuff. She reached into the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle and two shot glasses. Tequila would remove Larry’s funk. She filled the glasses and set one on the table. “Drink.”
He eyed her for a second and downed the liquid.
She handed him the other. “This one, too.”
“You’re not having any?”
“I’m not the one who needs to shake off a twisted father. Drink.”
His throat moved. The glass hit the table with a clink. The wrinkled skin between his eyes smoothed out.
“Better?”
He pulled his lips inward. She craved to touch them, but not until he said his fill.
“That day,” Larry’s voice was sullen, “when Ben gripped my hand, just before he made me squeeze the trigger, Dad said, “I don’t deserve to live. Be a better man than me.”
“What an awful person.” Charlene filled the glasses again and placed them on the table, one for him, the other for her, and sat. “Is he the reason you don’t like the name Ben?”
Larry nodded. “Which reminds me, did you ever figure out why you called me Ben?”
She had, but admitting it was embarrassing “I vaguely remember. I thought you were the teen who had died at Greenwood Manor.”
His eyebrows scrunched. “How’d you know about him?” He waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter, but why did you think that?”
“I have no clue. Like everything that night, weird objects, strange occurrences materializing…” She shook her head. “Did you know a witch flew over the moon?”
He smirked.
“Yep. And the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland visited.” She giggled. “I’m surprised I remembered. Actually, I didn’t until now.”
“That wine was potent.”
“That it was. Since we’re airing stuff out, I have a question.”
“Okay.” His voice sounded tight.
“Did you put a tracker on my cell or my car?” She didn’t remember what source Celine said the guys used, just that they did.
“Huh?” After a short pause, he said, “No. I haven’t.”
She narrowed her eye and gave him her world-class stink-eye. “Are you sure?”
A low chuckle erupted. “Yes. You should have given Randy the eye. We would have extracted more information sooner.”
Laughing, she said, “It works every time.” Gratitude for Larry’s honesty washed over her at the same time disappointment struck. “I wish I knew why Randy is loyal to Andrew. I doubt he’ll ever be forthcoming.”
“One day, maybe he will tell you.”
Since Randy hadn’t yet, she seriously doubted he would. “Has he said any more since his arrest?”
“No. He’s been released with the understanding if he made contact with Smith without informing the authorities, charges will be brought against him for aiding and abetting, and obstruction.”
This conversation needed to end. She was done talking about anything related to Andrew. She rose.
“Are you going somewhere?” There was an upward lilt in the end of the last word that told her he knew what she was up to.
“I am.” Tucking a hand inside the band of her panties, she pulled out a foil packet, and grinned.
“Wow. My dream girl.” He straightened, reaching for her.
She pressed a hand to his right shoulder, staying him.
His intake of ragged breath sent a shiver down her spine and jostled the daring minx, craving to be set free. She ripped the packet open.
A hiss of satisfaction escaped him, encouraging her to continue. She pulled his shaft out of his briefs and rolled the condom over him and shifted to remove her panties.
He slid his hands around her waist, stopping her, and wrapped her in his warm comfort. Holding onto her butt, he stood.
“I want you in me,” she whispered.
“Always in such a hurry?” He kissed her earlobe.
“With you, yes. Maybe one day the sizzle will die.”
“Doubtful.” His voice was strained.
A hand towel hung on a cabinet door. He snatched it and covered the chair’s seat.
This guy was too much. Everything he did made her heart sway.
Shifting her in his arms, the briefs discarded, he plopped his bare butt onto the towel and set her on his knees. His fluid, skilled actions gave no clue his shoulder was bruised or he had fallen down a hole.
Slowly, he leaned in and claimed her mouth. A gentle glide across her lips, his tongue tickled the gateway to her heart. She opened, welcoming him into her space. Sharing herself with him came so easily.
His tongue swooped into her mouth, bringing warmth, the flavor of tequila, and the mind-blowing taste of Larry. It danced with hers in such a way his earlier allegations that he had no rhythm went out the window. The man had everything she wanted in a guy.
Feathery swirling motions touched the inside of her thigh and moved toward her core. His hands were hot as his fingers teased their way under her panties. Her body throbbed, and she grew wet, needy. She wiggled, trying to entice him into moving faster.
“Always in a hurry,” he whispered, repeating his earlier claims, and deepened the kiss even more.
“Only with you,” she hissed.
The pressure built, tight as a spring. Ever since he pulled into the driveway, she’d craved him.
His fingers traveled down her seam.
She whimpered. The touch was so exhilarating, she wanted to jump him hard and fast.
He held her hips, held the edge of her panties aside, and guided her down on him. The awareness of him filling her s
hot through her body, stole her breath, and chased away all thought. She stilled, watching his eyes glaze over.
“You feel so good.” He latched onto a nipple, sucking and caressing with his tongue. An uncontrollable yearning flooded her body and threatened to explode if he didn’t stroke her straightaway. She dug her fingers into his scalp, tossed her head back, and gave her body over to him.
He sucked her through the silky, thin fabric. Every stroke, kiss, and nibble heightened the excitement in her already overheated body.
She melted. The ecstasy overwhelmed her. “How can any person feel so good?” The comment escaped on a whisper, barely loud enough to hear. But he did, for his chest came forward, flattening her breasts against him. The intimacy of him wanting to be so close increased the mountain of pressure.
“I love you,” the words flew out of her mouth before she considered what she said.
He eased back, studied her for a long moment. “I love you, too.” Sincerity burned from his gaze as the words had escaped his lips, reaching into her chest and gripping her heart, but apprehension snuck its way into her mind. When she said she thought she was falling in love with him previously, he’d remained quiet. What had changed in the short time?
She diverted her gaze to their joined bodies, trying to grasp reality. Could the throes of passion convince him to say the words of endearment?
“Babe, look at me.” Larry cupped her cheeks until her eyes locked on his. “I’m not blowing smoke. I’m in love with you. Earlier, I couldn’t wrap my mind around what I was feeling. I don’t say the words lightly, never have. Actually, I’ve never spoken them to another person.”
Whoa. Charlene’s heart boomeranged against her chest. Her eyes watered and her body tightened around his shaft.
“Hello!” Larry’s eyes lit on their connection. “What was that? Miracle fingers?”
She smiled. “My acceptance of what you said.”
“Ah, babe.”
He gripped her waist, rocked his hips, thrust harder, faster, in and out of her core until his eyes rolled back in his head. She met him thrust for thrust and exploded with him.
She rested her head on his shoulder and caught her breath. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” he said between pants.
They didn’t move…in the chair…in her kitchen. She’d never be able to look at the room or furniture again without getting a warm flush. Tonight, she realized something phenomenal. For the first time, she truly fell in love.
He stroked her hair out of her face and kissed her lips. “I need to discard the condom.”
Barely able to move or see through the sexual haze they had created, she eased off his chest.
He guided her up and off him until she stood.
“The bathroom is to the left of the door.”
“Be right back.”
Muscles loose, body sedate, she could curl up and go to sleep, but the tingle residing between her legs wasn’t ready to give up the ghost yet.
She uncorked another bottle of wine and headed toward the hall as Larry reappeared.
“Where are you going?” he asked, stepping out of the bathroom.
“We have a date.” She held up a blue bottle. “You game?”
“Hell, yeah.” He swiped the tequila and followed.
Chapter Eighteen
Larry barged into the cinderblock FBI office, holding a scruffy teenager’s handcuffs. The boy known as Hulk stood a good three inches taller than Larry. His hair hung around his neck in dreadlocks.
Jake followed, escorting Rona, the pint-sized girl who came into Larry’s office, requesting this meet and greet.
Larry pushed open the door to the interrogation room and moved forward. Hulk dug his feet in and leaned his weight into Larry. “No, man.”
Hulk hadn’t resisted when he arrested him on the trespassing charge. He’d almost gone voluntarily. So what gives? “Get in there!” Larry forced him inside, showed him a chair, and closed the door behind him as he headed toward coffee on the far end of the room, near Missy’s desk.
This part of his job, he hated…being tired, grumpy, and having to interview a man when he just wasn’t feeling like it. Larry unclipped his cell from his belt, hoping Charlene had tried to contact him and shine a little brightness on his gloomy day. No messages.
Jake snatched a Styrofoam mug from the corner of the break table and filled it. “Are you ready to quit from the FBI and work for Old Towne Detectives?” Jake asked Missy.
A growl escaped Larry.
Her eyes bugged out. “Not if he’s gonna be a bear.”
Jake smacked Larry on the back. “Don’t let Mr. Personality scare you away. I’ll protect you.”
Larry studied Jake over the brim of his mug. “How can you be so chipper?”
Jake shrugged.
The coffee slipped down Larry’s throat and warmed his insides. The caffeine stoked his adrenaline. “Nice and strong. Thanks, Missy.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jake jutted his chin upward. “So, what did you decide?”
Larry didn’t want to deal with this bullshit right now. As much as he hated to admit it, if Missy preferred to switch to the private sector, he wouldn’t stand in her way. “If you want to work for this lug, go ahead. I’ll support you, but know you’ll be missed.”
“Won’t you be joining the agency, too?” she asked.
She’d already made up her mind. Damn. The thought had occurred once or twice, but at this point he didn’t have a reason to switch jobs. “I have no plans.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be working with me again soon.” Jake winked at Missy and turned to Larry. “Pow wow in your office?”
“In a sec.” Larry grabbed his phone messages off Missy’s desk and scanned the department. “Thanks for covering. I wished the higher ups would hire us an assistant. Where is everyone?”
“An issue, up north, a car bombing in Crystal City.”
“Why didn’t I receive word?”
“I don’t know. Check your phone, make sure you have service.”
He pulled out the phone again. The ‘no service’ symbol showed. “Damn, phone.”
“Turn it off for a while. In the meantime, I’ll write up an order for a new one.”
Missy was a gem. “Thanks.”
Inside Larry’s office, Jake reclined in Larry’s chair, his ankles propped on the corner of the desk. His head slumped back mouth open. The coffee cup balanced in his lap.
The jackass had fallen asleep.
“Wake up!” Larry slapped the top of Jake’s shoe.
Jake jerked and darted his coffee cup off to the side, as the hot liquid splashed over his hand. “Crap.” He grabbed a couple tissues from the box on the corner of the desk and dabbed his skin. “Did Hulk give any useful information?”
“Not yet. He’s a scared teen. I’m hoping after he stews in the room alone for a few minutes, he’ll spill like Rona said.”
“Well, let’s get this over. My bed is calling my name. A nap is in order.”
The sixth sense Larry experienced at Greenwood Manor thundered into his mind. “Something’s off.”
Jake’s gaze snapped to Larry’s. “I’ve got the same feeling.”
Larry snatched a soda and a pack of donuts from the snack area and headed into the interrogation room holding Hulk. He tossed them on the table and sat next to Jake, facing Hulk. “Hungry?”
Hulk eyed the treats next to his cuffed wrists then shot his gaze to him. “What do you want?”
“Answers. Why have you been lurking around Greenwood Manor?”
“Don’t got to tell you anything!”
Larry rested back in his chair and sipped more coffee. “You’re right, you don’t. I don’t have time to sit in here if you’re not talking. That means no deals will be made. Make no mistake. We will discover what’s going on at Greenwood Manor. When we do, you’ll be charged.”
Hulk’s jaw tightened.
Larry knocked his knuckles on the table and
stood. “Keeping quiet won’t save your ass from what’s about to go down on the manor. Think about it. If Rona tells me everything I need to know, she’ll get the deal, not you. I hope you enjoy your time in prison.”
“Sweat and vomit don’t do it for her.” Jake added. “She’ll talk.”
“Just like the girl. She complains about everything,” Hulk said, wringing his hands together and diverting his eyes to the floor.
“At least she’ll have a deal.” Larry eyed him and waited for him to unload. When he didn’t, he patted Jake’s back and moved toward the door.
“Wait.” Desperation laced Hulk’s voice. “I’ll talk.”
Jake removed the cuffs from Hulk’s wrists, scooted the soda and donuts closer to him, and settled back in his seat. “Okay, talk.”
Nervous energy bounded off of Hulk. He removed his Impalers cap and threw it on the table. “I don’t want any part of it.”
The guy talked in riddles. “Part of what?” Larry asked.
“Monk’s boss. That’s all I know.”
“Explain.” Jake’s gaze narrowed to slits.
Hulk shoved a miniature donut into his mouth. Powder covered his lips and chin. “Mouse wants to take over.”
Man, Larry hoped they’d didn’t have to get rough with this guy. “Come on. Stop talking in riddles.” He glared. “What’s there to take over?”
“Monk was easy to work for, but with Mouse trying to take over…” Hulk shook his head and popped the top on his soda, “it’s got hard.”
Impalers had a boss. News to Larry. “Explain.”
Hulk swallowed. “They’re fighting. Mouse says, just wait, I have back up that will take care of that asshole.”
“Monk’s the asshole?” Jake asked.
“Yeah.” Hulk nodded. “And Monk says that fuckwad doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”
“Does Mouse have a name?” Larry scooted out a chair and sat.
Hulk’s dark beady eyes darted between them. “You don’t know jack shit that’s goin’ down over there, do ya?”
When they remained quiet and glaring, he gawped. It was almost comical the expressions that crossed his face, from you’ve-got-to-be-kidding to I’m-screwed, ending with his mouth turned down and his shoulders slumping. “Mathews, Allen Mathews.”