Trixsters Anonymous

by Ahren Sanders

  She shakes her head in disagreement, but I keep going. “I’ve never actually understood the significance surrounding the whole engagement ring tradition, because until you, I’d never cared. But now I get it.”

  “I don’t need a ring,” she burbles against my finger.

  “But I do. I need that diamond on your finger until you take my last name, and then I need that band to prove to the world you’re a taken woman.”

  I remove my finger from her lips and dig in my back pocket, finding the ring I picked up this morning.

  “That night in the hospital, you asked me if I was scared when we were taken, and I told you no. But what I didn’t tell you is that the only time I allowed myself to get anxious was when I thought about not coming home to you. I made a vow that wasn’t going to happen. You already said yes, but I want to hear it again. This time, I’ll even ask.

  “Emerson Leigh, will you marry me?”

  Her lips start to quiver, and she closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. When she opens them, they are twinkling a bright shade of amber. “The answer will always be yes. You can ask me, tell me, order me—whatever you want. The answer will always be yes.”

  I take her hand and slide the ring on, kissing the base of her finger where it sits. She holds her hand in the air, staring at it, her smile growing wider by the second.

  “I was so wrong. I need this ring on my finger.”

  I lean in to kiss her again, sweeping my tongue over her lips before slipping it in her parted mouth. My hand glides up her side, bringing her shirt with it, until I reach the curve of her breast and flick my thumb over the piercing. Her nipple hardens instantly.

  “We can’t,” she murmurs on my tongue.

  “Why the hell not?” I tear away mid-stroke.

  “Sweetie, you can’t have sex. You’re injured.”

  “I’m not fucking dead. My dick works just fine.” I thrust into her hip to prove my point.

  She giggles and cups my cheek, her eyes now shining mischievously. “One condition.”

  “There are no conditions.”

  “I do all the work.” She licks her lips suggestively, and my cock lurches in my shorts. The implication of her mouth on me is all it takes for the aching to begin.

  “I’d be an idiot to turn you down.”

  She curls up and whips her shirt over her head, exposing her naked chest. My eyes instantly gravitate to her nipples that are taunting me with those sexy barbells.

  Her hands glide to the hem of my shirt where she inches it up slowly, kissing every inch of flesh not covered by the bandages. When she reaches my armpits, I help her by ripping it off and tossing it behind us. Her mouth trails back down, her tongue making a lazy path of circles until she hits the waistband of my shorts.

  My dick starts to pulse in anticipation when her hooded eyes capture mine with a wicked gleam. “Remember, I’m doing all the work.”

  “No arguments here.”

  Chapter 28

  Emi

  “I’m sleeping with Marcus,” Maren announces as casually as if she was telling me she’s going to the mall.

  I’m so stunned, I choke mid-swallow, spewing water everywhere. “What?” I cough out.

  “I’m. Sleeping. Wi—”

  “I heard you, but when did this happen?”

  “It happens a lot, but if you’re referring to when did it start, the night we brought Walker back to Charleston.”

  “That was three weeks ago!”

  “I know.” She sighs guiltily.

  “Why are you just now telling me?”

  “Because you hauled ass to the cabin, and every single night since then has been busy.”

  “We talk every day.”

  “I wasn’t sure I was ready to tell anyone, Ems. At first, I thought it was nothing.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I think I’m in trouble.”

  “Trouble how?”

  “Trouble like I think he’s broken through my ‘sex is better than relationships’ motto.”

  “When did you get that motto?”

  “When I found my fiancé cheating on me and you started having sex.”

  “Maren!”

  “No, I’m serious. I didn’t say anything to you because you were so happy, and Walker is the real deal. But my plan was to have sex, not look for anything more for a while. Marcus has crushed that option. He told me this morning he was done with late night trysts and what he considers sneaking around. He’s invited me to happy hour tomorrow night with his work friends.”

  “What you’re really saying is that you’re not only sleeping with him, you’re in a relationship with him. I think it’s wonderful he wants to introduce you to his friends.”

  “No, it’s awful! He’s admitted these men know about Carlton.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t want to look like a hussy.”

  “Hussy? Did you say hussy? You’ve been single for months, not dating and not sleeping around. You’re beautiful, brilliant, and one of the kindest people I know. Carlton is a world-class dick, and he treated you like shit. Don’t let him ruin the chance at something with Marcus.”

  “That’s the thing. I let him change me. I finally feel like I’m living for me. Marcus has me in a tizzy.”

  “Good tizzy or bad tizzy?”

  “The best kind of tizzy. I find myself wanting to be with him, thinking about him when he’s not around. It’s maddening.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m scared it’s too soon. I recently ended a very committed relationship. Maybe I’m a leech.”

  My hand flies in front of her face, the diamond sparkling. “Too soon!?! I fell in love on my first date. As for a committed relationship, I hate to remind you, but you were the only one committed.”

  She pouts her lips, squints her eyes, and taps her fingers on the steering wheel, avoiding my glare.

  “You’re right. I like him, and he seems to like me. I’m not going to let the ghost of my relationship with Carlton ruin this.”

  “Awesome!” I fist pump in the air. “Maren’s got a boyfriend. Maren’s got a boyfriend,” I sing over and over until she’s giggling hysterically.

  She drives into a parking space behind the dive bar on the outskirts of town and adjusts her wig, peering in the rearview mirror. I take out my compact and apply the hooker red lipstick that matches my hair for the night.

  “In and out, a few pictures, and we’re done,” she explains again.

  “I know. I’m your partner, remember? I’m read in.”

  “Now, you’re even talking like Walker,” she teases.

  “Sorry, he’s rubbing off on me. I’m pretty sure he’s probably on his way here.”

  “Marcus, too. He’s not happy about us taking this case.”

  “You told him?”

  “I had no choice. He heard us talking last night and knew.”

  “He was there last night?”

  “I made us dinner.”

  “Sounds pretty domestic.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” She gets a dreamy look on her face I know all too well.

  “You’ve got it bad.” I repeat her words from the night she interrupted my first date with Walker.

  She raises her eyebrows and gets out of the car.

  Tonight’s Trixsters assignment is fairly simple. It’s also a little out of our normal cases. We’ve been asked by a mother to investigate her son’s new girlfriend. This mother, Ellen, is concerned her widowed son, Paul, is being scammed. It’s been six months since his wife passed away, and a few weeks ago, he mentioned meeting a woman named Della.

  According to Ellen, the relationship seems to be moving lightning fast, especially for a middle-aged man who has money. Paul has mentioned moving Della into his home and building a life with her, which is concerning.

  At first, Maren and I were skeptical to get involved because it seemed like a nosy mom being overly suspicious and a huge family nightmare. But Ellen sent an e
mail that helped change our minds

  Ellen said she did some digging, and Della is bad news. She’s convinced the woman is a gold digger and after her son’s money, and he’s falling for her out of loneliness. She described Paul as heart-broken. He was with his wife since high school. She was the love of his life.

  Maren and I made no promises but requested a little more information on Della, so we could do our own search. We found that most of what she’s told Paul is a lie. She’s definitely a scam artist looking for a sugar daddy, and she’s smart about it.

  When we saw the similarities to the Ricky Sharp case, we agreed to help Ellen. Della targets men and exploits their weakness. In the last three years, she’s broken up two marriages. A thorough scan of her email and bank accounts show she is spoiled by her men, but once their wives discovered the affair and filed for divorce, the money stopped.

  Being the heartless home wrecker that she is, she broke things off immediately. We assume she decided married men were too much hassle, so she shifted her focus to widowers.

  Unlike Ricky, she didn’t use dating sites to find her next victim. She did something worse; she started attending grief support meetings under the lie that she lost her mom. When Maren hacked into her IP address, she found daily searches on obituaries going back months. There was an entire search history on Paul, his company, his family, and his net worth.

  Tonight, she is meeting some girlfriends for drinks at this little dive bar, and her email said she was looking to ‘get properly laid’.

  All we need to do is hang out and hope she gives us the proof we need that she’s not the sweet, caring, grieving woman she’s led Paul to believe.

  She and her friends are easy to spot once we’re inside. Della is clearly recognizable from the picture Ellen sent. Her blonde hair is sleek and shiny, falling midway down her back. The black dress molds to her body, and her enormous boobs are popping out. She’s a bombshell, and her friends are equally as gorgeous. These women are on the prowl, and from the looks of the men staring at them, they’ll have no problems.

  Like always, Maren and I sit at the bar for the best view. Della and her friends throw back drink after drink, and when the band starts, they are the first ones to the dance floor.

  One by one, men approach them and they pair off. For over an hour, they stay this way, only taking a break from dancing to come back to their table for a refill.

  “I get the feeling she knows the man she’s dancing with,” Maren points out.

  “Me too, there’s a level of familiarity and comfort there.” Right as I say it, the man grabs Della’s ass, grinding his hips furiously into her, and starts to kiss her.

  Maren uses one of our new pen gadgets to snap pictures. The band takes a break, and everyone leaves the dance floor, Della and her man holding hands.

  “We should order another drink. Things look like they’re about to get interesting.” I turn back to the bar.

  “Drinks are on me.” The unmistakable husky voice comes from behind me. Goosebumps break out on my arms as I whip around to find Walker and Marcus.

  “You’re here,” I stupidly point out.

  “I got sick of waiting for you to come home.” He runs a finger through my hair and scowls. “You look beautiful as a redhead, but it’s not nearly as silky as your real hair.”

  Marcus steps in closer to Maren and whispers something in her ear that makes her blush. Walker seems unfazed by the action.

  “Did you know about these two?” I wave my finger between them.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because it’s none of my business.”

  “Our best friends are dating, and it’s none of our business?”

  “Emi.”

  “Kelly,” I correct him. “I’m Kelly, and she’s Donna.”

  “Where did you come up with those names?”

  “90210.”

  “For God’s sake.”

  “Lower your voice.”

  “We have movement.” Maren nudges my knee.

  I peep past Walker and see Della and the guy disappearing down a hallway.

  “I’ll check it out.” I scoot off the bar stool and get my purse.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the ladies’ room, and while I’m at it, I’ll see what’s down that hallway.”

  “You’re not going alone.”

  “Sweetie, it would look very odd for you to go to the bathroom with me. I’ll be back in a jiffy. Have a seat and pretend you two guys are trying to pick us up.”

  “Good luck with that. Remember, there’s a rock on your finger.” Maren wiggles her ring finger.

  “Hey, aren’t you that detective that was on TV?” A man walking by stops, asking his question to Walker.

  “He sure was!” I chirp and slide by him, discreetly pinching his butt.

  I hurry out of his reach and down the hallway. There are several doors, but I don’t have to search for long before a purring moan comes from behind one of them.

  Well, shit, how am I supposed to get pictures?

  “You like that, Della? You like my fingers in your pussy? Ride my hand, baby, ride it hard,” the man demands. “That’s it, clench harder.”

  “Stop fucking around, Damon, and get me off.”

  “Oh, I’m gonna get you off, then I’m taking you home and fucking you until you admit this pussy belongs to me.”

  “Yes,” she groans.

  “You’re gonna take my dick all night long, you hear me?”

  “Yes,” she whimpers this time.

  “I should fuck you right here just to take the edge off.”

  “Make me come, Damon… so, so close.”

  Whatever he does must work because she screams in pleasure. There’s a squeaky giggle behind me as people approach, so I dash across the hall and slip into the bathroom. I lock myself in a stall and hear the women enter, still laughing. They use the restroom and are washing their hands when Della comes in.

  “Feel better?” one of them asks her.

  I take out my phone and record their conversation. Maybe, if I can’t get pictures, I can get something.

  “A little, but he’s getting smarter. He got me to agree to go home with him,” Della admits.

  “You’re such a whore. Why you don’t give in to him is beyond me.”

  “Damon could never afford me. He’s a great fuck, one of the best, but that’s it. He knows the score. I let him have his way with me, which gives me enough orgasms to go back to Paul tomorrow.”

  “What are you going to tell Paul about not coming home tonight?”

  “I’m going to use one of you as an excuse. Then I’ll give him a few blowjobs so he won’t suspect a thing. I swear, guys are so easy. Wrap your lips around their dicks and they’re easily distracted.”

  “It’s kinda sad. Damon’s totally in love with you, and Paul’s clueless.”

  “And he’s going to stay that way. Damon will always be my boy toy on the side, but Paul’s got the money.”

  “Speaking of boy toys and dicks, did you see who walked in? That detective that was on TV, the one involved in the drug raid. He’s hot. I’m going to introduce myself.”

  At her words, jealousy rolls in the pit of my stomach. I peer through the crack in the door and see a brunette fluffing her hair.

  Bitch!

  “Oh, yeah, his friend is hot, too. Let’s go for it,” the other one says.

  They leave the restroom, chatting about Walker and Marcus, and I turn off the recorder on my phone and get out of the stall. After a minute, I go back into the bar and see they wasted no time sidling up to the guys.

  If looks could kill, Maren’s glare would have bodies scattered on the floor. She and Walker glance at me at the same time, and I slice my eyes to the exit, changing direction and heading that way. I know myself, and if I walk up to that crew, there’s a chance I ruin being anonymous.

  “What happened?” Maren waits until we are beside her c
ar before asking.

  “Where are the guys?”

  “Paying the bill and fighting off piranhas.”

  I give her a run-down and play the recording. Walker and Marcus join us right as the women start talking about them, hearing the tail end of the conversation.

  “Emi, tell me you’re not seriously jealous of those bottom-feeders.” Walker tugs me into him and kisses the tip of my nose. “They don’t hold a candle to you.”

  “Good recovery, but I had a revelation tonight.”

  “What’s that?” His eyes dance with humor at the snarkiness in my tone.

  “After we send our file to Ellen, you and I are planning this wedding. It’s YOU that needs a ring on your finger.”

  He holds my glare for a brief second before throwing his head back and roaring into laughter. Marcus and Maren join him, furthering my frustration.

  “I don’t see what’s so funny.” I decide they’re all crazy.

  Walker lowers his mouth to my ear and nips my earlobe gently. “Babe, you just got a glimpse of what I’ve been dealing with for months. Anytime another man looks at you, I want to rip heads off.”

  “Things like this make me wish I had a taser.”

  This statement makes them laugh harder, and Walker’s hold tightens. “Can I take you home now?”

  “Yes, but I need to do some work.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Emi. That recording needs some editing or poor Ellen may have a stroke due to the language. Not to mention deleting the part about Walker and Marcus.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, go home with your fiancé. Walker, good luck with that wedding planning.” I catch her wink at him.

  The way she says wedding planning and the little glint in her eye makes me suspicious. The three of them share some sort of non-verbal conversation while I stand there confused.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, babe, come on. Say good night.” Walker urges me toward his truck before I can say anything at all.

  “Why do I get a sneaky suspicion something is going on?” I press further when he helps me into my seat.