Lost in Deception (Lost series)

by DeVito, Anita

  “Let me give you a hand.” He wrapped his over hers, his fingers trapping her.

  She dropped her head back, eyes closing. “You think you can do this better than me? It’s my equipment.”

  “What you take for granted, I fantasize about three times a day.” He changed the angle, varied his speed, worked all of her. He had never seen anything as sexy as the look in her eyes. The hunger that was just for him. He was tempted to dive, just to taste her, to see if he could.

  “Oh God.” She panted now. Her chest rose, bringing those gorgeous breasts to the water’s edge. Her nipples peeked at him, begging for attention.

  He kept her hand beneath his and added his thumb. His mouth captured her breast and suckled. She liked him hard and demanding. He’d learned that. She wasn’t a woman to tip-toe through life, careful and gentle. She liked sex like she lived—vivaciously. With each swipe of his tongue on the hard peak of her nipple, she inhaled. With each breath, she arched more. As close to the edge as she was, she vibrated with need. He switched breasts and pressed two fingers deep within her body.

  She came off the seat, her body curling around his as wave and wave washed through her. He felt each one as they tried to strangle his fingers, but he didn’t retreat. He drove her farther and faster, needing to hear it. “Say my name.”

  Her response was immediate. “Tom.” She said it on a rapid exhalation; the sound torn from her throat was elemental. Still he didn’t let her go. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. His name was her every breath. She flung herself forward, his name bouncing off the tiled walls before her teeth found his shoulder.

  He held her close, in awe of what they created together. His mouth found her shoulder, tasted the salt on her skin. She slid against him, and he tightened his grip, not wanting her to slip beneath the water.

  In slow, languid movements, she straddled him. Her fingers brushed his chest, flirted down his stomach. She lifted her head and turned the full power of her gaze on him as she took him inside.

  “My turn.” Her hands fisted in his hair, making it clear who was in control.

  He was too close to the edge. He wanted this to last forever, being at her mercy, subject to her imagination. There was no doubt she was a creative partner in the bedroom, and he wanted to see all her tricks. He needed to get that book, the Kama Sutra. They had to try every position.

  His arms around her hips, he pulled her down, driving deeper. Her rounded ass filled his hands. Her core was hot, wet, and so tight.

  “My name. Say it,” she commanded, clamping down and swiveling her hips.

  He couldn’t say it. She’d stolen his breath. His muscled locked, his hips bucked, but he couldn’t breathe. Her name was on his lips. When she kissed him, he gave it to her. “My Peach.”

  Air flooded his lungs as the orgasm subsided. Panting, his head dropped into the corner of her throat. “You drained me.”

  She chuckled, the sound resonating deep in her chest—hot sex on a sultry night. “I think we drained the tub.”

  They could have spilled enough water to float an ark. He didn’t care. Performing a feat of strength, he lifted his head. “Sex with you is incredible.”

  She kissed him again, this time quick and playful, satisfaction shining in her brilliant eyes. “What did you expect? I am incredible.”

  Her quick mind and fast tongue aroused him nearly as much as her body. He brushed his mouth against hers and nibbled, showing his appreciation. “What am I?”

  “You’re getting there. With a little bit of time and the right woman to guide you, you just might be worth keeping.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Wednesday, April 12 seven p.m.

  The boy-girl-boy-girl seating put Peach between Poppy and Nate. Not that she didn’t want to sit by Nate, but she sort of assumed Tom would be next to her. She was, just a little, disappointed. He wasn’t even in the room, which had her both disappointed and concerned. If he went to his lab to work on the crane, she wanted to be with him. She was about to excuse herself when her grandfather laid his hand on her forearm.

  “Nice,” he said, without specifying what he thought earned the praise. It could have been Emily McCormick and the way she fussed over him, getting him more to drink, helping serve. He didn’t need the help, but Emily didn’t know or, most likely, didn’t care. Or Carolina. He spoke in Spanish with Carolina frequently blushing, which Jeb noticed and responded to by glaring fruitlessly at the blind man. Poppy sat at the table a happy man. He just smiled, the worn lines in his tanned face. “Very nice.”

  Tom walked into the room on long strides, and her body relaxed when she hadn’t realized she was tense. He stopped suddenly and glared at Nate. “Clyde, you’re in my seat. Listen up, I got real news. Jack Hawthorne’s assistant was killed this morning. It was a hit and run. Jeb? Can you get details? Fabrini’s son Michael took the call from the husband and didn’t pass any to his father.” Wedging his chair between her and Nate, Tom loaded his plate.

  She smiled at him, relishing the audacity that had everyone scooting their places around the table.

  “Do you have her name and where it happened?” Jeb asked.

  He nodded. “I did get that much. Next bit of news is the Fabrini’s casino project is shut down indefinitely. Authorities are continuing to investigate. The money men are meeting to figure out their next steps. Costs are going to increase, and there’s a very vocal minority who never wanted the casino built in the first place.”

  Peach turned to Carolina. “We should take a look at the opposition. They would have a lot to gain by stopping the project, which the collapse may do.”

  Carolina nodded sharply. “I’ll start with the newspapers and see who was fussing the loudest.”

  “They had to know what they were doing,” Tom said. “I know how it was done. The model simulations show that with the flaw, the coupling would have snapped under the torque of the crane.”

  Butch leaned into Katie. “It’s funny how he thinks that’s in English.”

  Peach snorted, her thoughts not far from Butch’s. It was a major point for Tom that he figured it out. For her, it wasn’t about how it happened. It was that it happened at all, and her uncle was caught up in it. “Politicians have been known to use other bastards for the dirty work.”

  Carolina choked. “Oh, we know. Trust me, we know all about that.”

  “We need to consider the opposing camp, but my gut is hung up on Carter’s Rolex.” Peach turned to Tom. “Too much coincidence. I don’t like it. I don’t like Hawthorne’s computer missing. And now there is the secretary.” She considered the options. What she needed was information, and that was six hours north, nestled along Lake Erie. “Can I borrow a car? I’m going back.”

  The table erupted with too much noise to tell who supported and who opposed what she was going to do. She sat stunned at the mini-revolt. Who were any of these people to have a care or a say in how she did her job? She began to argue because, what the hell, everyone else was arguing. With a raised hand, Jeb’s father quieted the table and gave her the floor.

  “I appreciate what you all are saying.” Not really, but it was always a good idea to start with something that got people on her side. “You don’t know me all that well. This is what I do. I investigate. I’m licensed in Virginia and have worked on hundreds of cases over the years. I’m going to look again for Hawthorne’s computer. It has to be at the trailer. Otherwise, why lock the door? I’ll talk to his wife, Carter’s girlfriend, and I want to get back into Fabrini’s system. The answer is there just waiting for us to find it.”

  “Rico,” Poppy said definitively. “I want my son to come home.”

  She bowed her head, knowing she’d failed the man who had never failed her. “I know Poppy. I’ll find him.” She needed to check in with the Coast Guard again. It was a call she dreaded making. If they had found him, they would have called. She lived in fear of them calling off the search. It had been five days with no sign of him, Hawthorne, or Carter. />
  Everyone sank back into their chairs except Tom and Jeb. Neither of them liked her plan; it was written on their clenched jaws. The way she read Jeb, he just didn’t think she could do the job. Had she not saved Tom’s butt three times, counting Poppy’s shotgun?

  She let a smile creep onto her lips. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Carolina cleared her throat and pulled on Jeb’s sleeve until he sat.

  That left Tom standing alone. His gaze flashed across the faces at the table before settling on hers. “It’s dangerous,” he said, retaking his seat.

  “I understand that. I’ll be prepared. Trust me when I say this isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “Speaking of rodeos,” Butch said, “I’m in negotiations to perform at the County Fair. I don’t know how much of a draw it will be. Folks can see me play anytime, or they will, once we sign those papers.”

  “So it’s a done deal? Steel Strings is now part of the Elderberry Farm holdings?” Jeb cut into his meat again. “I always liked that place. Remember that first time we took Tom and Katie there? Whew. Sparks flew.”

  Butch winked at Peach, clueing her in that he was doing what he could. She knew Butch the least. He didn’t talk much, smiled a lot, usually had an instrument in his hand. She figured there was more to him than she saw if he could keep up with a woman like Katie. Yeah, there was. Butch was quiet, strong, and…on her side.

  Dinner continued on. The family teased and argued and told stories. Family extended to Nate and Poppy and her. It was like a Hallmark movie except without the excessive table decorations. This table was covered in nearly clean platters of food prepared by Tom’s talented hands. She tried to help him cook, but he was out of her league. Instead, she seduced him, stoking his body when his hands were filled and his mind focused. She talked the entire time, commenting on his technique, offering to handle his meat. Most of what she said was bad, B-movie bad, but it was such fun, revving him up, hearing his breath come in short pants, feeling heat radiating through his shirt. He placed the meat—a pork tenderloin—in the cooking pan, and she had her way with his hardened cock.

  She loved the look she put on his face, his dark eyes heavy with desire, his cheeks flushed. The dish went into the oven, hitting the back with a crash of glass on metal. He glanced in, then shut the door. As he washed his hands, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I love a man who is good with his hands.”

  He had spun in her arm and thrown her over his shoulder. “I love a woman who is good with her mouth.” He carried her into the laundry room and locked the door.

  She fell to her knees, taking control of the fly on his constricting jeans when he turned. He groaned with relief as she pushed the denim and underlying cotton to the floor. He was hot and hard and desperate for her. She wasn’t going to let him off easy. She flicked his broad head, stroked him with her tongue. She used every trick she knew on him, and when she ran out of those, she made up a few of her own. Her hands wrapped around his tree trunk thighs, feeling powerful as he trembled under her touch.

  “Oh God.” His control was a very thin wire. “Get your pants off.”

  She didn’t obey, liking having him on the very edge of control, wanting to see how much further she could push him. She took him deep, suckled, and found herself flat on her back. Her jeans were at her ankles, his fingers finding out exactly how much she’d been enjoying herself, then he was in her. The coupling was fast and furious, an elemental hunger demanding to be fed. He shoved her shirt and bra up, and she wrapped her arms around his head, holding him at her breast as he feasted.

  “Faster,” she begged. “Deeper. I can’t…I can’t…”

  “Not without me.” He thrust hard, his hips driving them both to the edge. She went over first, taking him with her.

  They had lain together in a knot of limbs and clothing, their breath ragged. His head lay on her shoulder. She turned enough to kiss his temple. “How often do you do the cooking?”

  “Once a week. Sometimes more.” He lifted his head. “Why?”

  “I got ideas. I’ll need an apron and knee-high boots.” She fanned herself; just the memory of what they did together got her juices flowing. Tom must have sensed what she was thinking. He brought her hand to his mouth and nibbled her knuckles.

  The clash of plates pulled her from the memory. Her face was heated, her panties damp. She tried to look casual as Katie and Butch cleared the table as the group drifted to their own corners of the sprawling home. New ideas blossomed as she looked at Tom, but he was on the phone. His father. He waved a hand at her and ran after Katie to discuss something that sounded like a problem. Unexpectedly on her own, Peach hustled through the courtyard to the room she knew Jeb used as an office. She knocked twice.

  “Carolina! I told you, you don’t have to knock!”

  Peach stuck her head in the door. “It’s just me. Do you have a minute?”

  Jeb came to his feet and gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Come on in. Sorry about that. Nobody in this house knocks, except for Carolina. What can I do for you?”

  She sat down and began negotiations, professional to professional. “I want to rent one of your cars. I have a lot of my own equipment, but I’ll take a few of your GPS bugs and any other cool gadgets you have.”

  Jeb took a pad of paper and a pen from his desk. “Tell me what you are planning.”

  “Tom is on to something with how the crane fell, but the why is out of his area of expertise. I need to know the why. The answer is there. I’m close. I’ll look once more for Hawthorne’s computer. If I can’t find it, I can remote into F&F’s server and search from there. I’ll need Carolina’s help then for all those files.”

  “How long do you expect to be there?”

  “You know how investigations are—boom or bust. I’m not looking to charge into hell with a bucket of water. My plan is to collect what I can and bring it back here to analyze. I’ll check in with the Coast Guard, maybe look in on Poppy’s house.”

  “Stay away from the house.” He tossed the pen down without writing a thing. “Take the plane. It will get you there in two hours. I can have a car waiting for you at the airport.”

  She nodded slowly, trying not to look as surprised as she felt. “How much?” He named a fair price but one that was outside her current budget. “I’m a little short on cash these days. How do you feel about bartering? Thirty hours of labor—mine—in trade.”

  “I’m not hiring right now. Tell you what, I’ll put it on Tom’s tab—”

  “He’s not asking you, I am.”

  “True but this is for his case. You getting the information will help Tom seal his first investigation.”

  Part of her wanted to argue. This wasn’t a “case.” This was her uncle’s life and her grandfather’s. The rational part of her listened, though. If she acquired the information she wanted, it would go a long way to validating his theories and his work. Besides, she suspected Jeb didn’t really run a tab for his family. He didn’t roll that way. He was offering her a break, and she was taking it. “Okay.” She extended her hand.

  “One catch.”

  She snatched it back. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

  “I’m going with you.” He didn’t blink when he made the decree.

  “Nope. No deal.”

  “Standard protocol here, Peach. Whatever mess you two stumbled into is vicious. You need someone at your back.”

  “Not you. I will not be the reason Carolina is a widow. I can see the love in her eyes even if you don’t. You need to stay here, healthy and safe.”

  Jeb snorted. “You think I’m going to be caught by this group of amateurs?”

  “They’ve got to you twice.” She shuddered to think what would have happened at the train tracks if she hadn’t followed. But then, that was what brought the thugs to her front door. “You have employees, right? Give me one of them. One of the strong, silent types if you don’t mind.”

  He looked at her, considering, and e
ventually nodded. “Let me get on this. The plane is at the local airport. I’ll drive you. We are out the door at six.”

  “I won’t need a car. Just the plane.” Rubbing her hands together, it finally felt like things might be going her way. The plane and the extra hands would make her day easier. She had work to do. “Thanks, Jeb. FYI, this is my debt. I may not be able to pay you now, but I’m good for it.”

  “What are you going to do about Tom? He’s going to want to go, you know.”

  She knew he would, but his value was in his laboratory, putting his big brain to use. “I’ll handle him.”

  …

  “What do you mean I’m not going?” Tom paced in his laboratory, tails of his white coat trailing as he flapped his arms like a big…hot…chicken.

  She smothered her smile, especially in light of his extreme disapproval of her announcement. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want you there.” Again, a lie to make him feel better. Of course she didn’t want him there. He was using up lives faster than an alley cat. “It’s that Jeb’s guy has the skills and resources I need to work fast and silent. I’m not looking for a re-mix of the incident at Poppy’s house. I want to get in, get what we need, and get back here. Simple. Quiet. Easy. Your time is better spent here.” She gestured to the room around them. “What I find won’t mean squat if you can’t prove malicious intent.”

  He stopped abruptly, burying fists in the pockets of his lab coat. “You don’t play fair.”

  “These guys we’re chasing? They don’t play fair. The biggest thing I’ve got on my side is that I don’t either. They expect the good guys to play within the law. A cop can’t do what I’m going to do. I don’t stop, and I don’t go soft. Ever.” She breathed deeply, refusing to pull at her hair. “I’m not going to apologize for hurting your feelings. This isn’t personal.”