by Shauna Hart
And she would.
But it was time she got some answers.
And she knew just where to start asking.
Chapter 20
Jade stood outside the closed door. She peaked through the large glass window with the stenciled lettering, MacLean Investigations. He should be here, according to the office hours listed on the door.
Where was he?
She hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days. Hearing a rustling behind her, she turned to find a cleaning lady pushing a cart down the hall. The woman grabbed a broom from the cart, her eyes downcast.
Jade walked over to her. “Excuse me,” she said, tilting her head to the side to get the other woman’s attention. The woman looked up, her finger pushing her glasses high on her nose.
“Do you know when the agency opens?” she inquired.
The other woman pursed her lips. “Haven’t seen him in a couple of days. Not sure if he skipped town or what?”
Jade frowned. “A couple of days?”
The other woman nodded. “It happens sometimes. People just up and leave. Decide they don’t want to run a business anymore.”
Before she could question her further, the other woman disappeared down the hall. Gone? A sickening feeling of dread swept through her stomach. What if something had happened to him? She thought of his altercation with the man who worked for Clay. Had he made good on his threats? A chill raced up her spine at the thought.
She quickly shook the thought away. Maybe what the cleaning lady said was true. Maybe he was just taking a few days off. She told herself that that had to be it, but the whole walk back to Clay’s, she couldn’t shake the unwelcome sense of dread. She was probably just being paranoid, but even as she reached the front doors to Clay’s apartment building, she felt like someone was watching her. A quick glance down the street confirmed that there was no one there.
When she got into the elevator, her cell phone began to ring. She flipped it open, murmuring a quick, “Hello.”
“Where have you been?” Zoë asked, her worry evident.
“Hi, Zoë. Sorry, I stayed at Clay’s last night. I should have told you after what happened.”
Silence filled the line for a moment before Zoë replied. “Clay?”
“Clay is…”
Before she could reply, Zoë cut in. “I know who he is.”
Jade’s eyes narrowed at her brusque tone.
“How could you?” Zoë demanded.
Jade’s mouth fell open. “Zoë, it’s not what you think.”
“So, you’re not fucking him?” she challenged furiously.
At her silence, Zoë snorted. “Exactly. You’re just like her.”
Jade’s eyebrows drew together. Before she could respond, the line went dead. She stared at the phone as she closed it, a frown forming.
What had Zoë meant?
And why did she sound so angry that Jade was with Clay?
Did she feel like Jade was betraying Ruby?
Color crept into her cheeks at the thought. She had to admit that she still felt awkward about her newfound intimacy with Clay, but he and Ruby had ended it a long time ago.
So, why did she still feel so guilty?
As she began to put the key into the door of Clay’s apartment, it was ripped open. Clay stood before her, his anger clear. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
She breezed past him, dropping her purse on the couch before turning to face him. He slammed the door, closing the distance between them in two long strides.
“Well?” he prodded.
She took a deep breath as she tried to reign in her growing temper. “I had some errands to run,” she explained.
“Errands to run, huh? Like going to Ruby’s apartment by yourself?”
Rolling her eyes, she let out a sigh of impatience. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t go to Ruby’s.”
She could tell by the look on his face that her answer surprised him. Still, after what had happened with Zoë, she wasn’t in the mood for his cross-examination. She turned to walk into the kitchen to get a glass of iced tea.
He followed her, holding up his hands in a sign of truce. “Okay, maybe I overreacted a little bit,” he relented.
His quick acquiescence shocked her. But the rueful look on his face did her in.
“You think?”
He gave her a reluctant grin. “Maybe. When you weren’t here when I got home, I thought maybe you decided to go without me,” he admitted, raking a hand through his hair.
She took a sip of tea before placing her glass on the counter. “Well, I didn’t.”
He nodded, his hands coming up to stroke her upper arms. “So, what errands did you run?”
She pursed her lips in frustration. “Clay, just because I agreed to stay here doesn’t mean that you’re entitled to my daily itinerary.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I just worry. After everything that’s happened, I think I’m entitled to at least that much.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. “You know, I could get used to you being here when I get home every day,” he confessed.
“Well, don’t. ”
He gave her a fake wounded look. “Okay, so why don’t we get some dinner? You can’t turn down dinner,” he reasoned.
The corners of her lips curled up. “Fine. First, dinner. Then, we go to Ruby’s.”
After a quick dinner, they stopped by Ruby’s to pick up some clothes. Thankfully, there were no more pictures, and it appeared as though nothing had been disturbed. The scene should have made her feel better about things, but it didn’t. Instead, she had the odd sensation that the person who had left the picture knew that she hadn’t been staying here. If that was the case, it meant that there was a good possibility that he or she knew where she was staying.
And that was even more frightening.
When they got back to Clay’s apartment, all she wanted to do was sink into a hot bath. Leaving Clay to finish up some work, she went upstairs to the bathroom. She turned the water on, letting it fill up the large marble tub. After shedding her clothing, she stepped into the water. She leaned back, her eyes slowly drifting shut. She tried her best to relax, but her thoughts inevitably returned to Mr. MacLean.
What happened to him?
Was he really taking a break from the business?
God, she hoped so. She hoped that he was on a beach somewhere sipping a Mai Tai. If he wasn’t on that beach, odds were that something much more sinister had happened to him.
“Mind if I come in?” Clay said, standing by the door.
“No.”
He kneeled down beside the tub. “What were you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she lied.
His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a grin. “Still lying to me, huh?”
“I’m not lying.”
“Sure you are. You’re biting the corner of your lip. It’s your tell.”
“My ‘tell?’”
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes lighting with amusement. “When people lie, they have a tell. You biting your lip is yours.”
She thought about that for a moment before responding. Her eyes met his. “And if I am lying?”
His grin widened. “Then, I’ll have no choice but to punish you.”
Her tongue came out to wet her lips, her pussy tingling in anticipation. “And just how do you propose to do that?”
He leaned over, his hand slipping into the water. It glided over her breast, pausing to pinch the taut nipple. Her breasts flushed from the delicious attention. His hand slid over her stomach, following the curve of her hip, the line of her outer thigh. When it moved around to caress the inside of her leg, she thought she would surely die with need. Her mouth fell open as his hand got closer to the part of her that needed him most. His knuckles brushed against her swollen folds and she moaned. He slid his finger through the folds, teasing her.
“Like this,” he said, curling his finger inside of her.
She let out a long sigh.
“And like this,” he explained, sliding another finger into the warm depths of her.
Her fingers reluctantly curled around his hand to stop him. “Clay, we should talk,” she began.
“Shhh,” he replied, taking her hand in his.
He leaned over to let the water out of the tub. “Let’s get these bubbles off of you.”
He led her into the glass-encased shower to the right, turning the water on with a flick of his wrist. Within moments, he was naked behind her. His hands glided over her body. His fingers teased her nipples, her clit, until her entire body was pulsing with desire. She leaned back against him, feeling his erection press against her buttocks. His hands slid over her cheeks, parting her so that she could feel him push against the swollen folds of her pussy. Her hand came up to curl around his neck as his hands moved higher. They curved around her breasts, tweaking her nipples.
She leaned her head to the side to allow him greater access as she moved back against him. She slowly swiveled her hips, making him groan. His hand slid lower, his thumb brushing her clit. She pushed back against him in invitation. He grabbed her hands, pulling them high to brace them against the wall. He leaned over her, his chest against her back. She felt his cock prod against her moist folds. He hesitated for a moment, causing her to look over her shoulder in question.
When her eyes met his, he drove into her. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him. The sensations were so intense that she felt like her knees were going to buckle, but he wasn’t about to let her fall. She felt his chest press against her back as he leaned forward to cup her breasts in the palms of his hands. His tongue traced the length of her spine. She felt her arousal tighten and coil, then crest. Her cries echoed through the tile walls. Within seconds, she felt him pull away. Then his hot seed spilled across the sensitive skin of her buttocks. He turned her around, the spray cleansing her back. His mouth sought hers, his tongue demanding entrance. They washed each other, each taking their time cleansing the tender parts.
Later, as they lay in bed together, his arms curled around her. Long after she felt his breathing slow, she lay awake staring at the ceiling. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t sleep.
What had happened to Mr. MacLean?
Was he okay?
Or had he gotten too close to the truth?
Chapter 21
Jade was awakened by a ringing sound. She rolled over to see that Clay was still sleeping peacefully. Not wanting to wake him, she slid out of bed. The stairs were cold on her bare feet as she made the journey down to get closer to the sound. Her eyes narrowed as she realized it was coming from her purse.
She reached inside to pull out her cell phone, flipping it open.
“Hello,” she whispered.
“Ms. Monroe?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“This is Detective Ambrose from the New Orleans Police Department.”
Her heart picked up speed. “Hello, Detective. Have you learned something new about my sister’s death?” she inquired. She held her breath as she waited for his answer.
He hesitated for a moment, before continuing. “Well, not exactly. You see, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
She gripped the phone so tight that her knuckles turned white. “What is it, Detective?”
He let out a long sigh. “It appears that the man you hired to investigate your sister’s murder, Davis MacLean, has been murdered. His body was found last night in Lake Ponchatrain.”
Jade felt the room spin around her, and she gripped the edge of the table in an effort to hold herself upright. Nausea hit her. She swallowed hard as she tried to fight the sensation.
“Ms. Monroe?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Ms. Monroe? Are you still there?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried desperately to regain her voice. “Yes, I’m here.”
“I was hoping that you could come down to the station this morning.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Ms. Monroe?”
“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” she explained.
“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”
Even after he hung up, she gripped the phone to her ear. Dead? Mr. MacLean was dead? If he hadn’t agreed to help her, he would still be alive. The thought cut through her like a knife. She was the reason he was dead. If she hadn’t pushed him, he would still be alive.
Who could have done this?
A memory she didn’t want to think about of an earlier conversation crept into her mind.
A pretty big guy just appeared out of nowhere to tell me that if I didn’t stop investigating Mr. Devlin, I wouldn’t be investigating anything for quite a long time.
No.
It couldn’t be. Could it?
Could the man Clay hired have really done this? Had Mr. MacLean gotten too close to the truth?
The truth about Clay?
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Clay asked, his hair still ruffled from sleep.
His hands closed around her arms, his eyes narrowing on the phone she still cradled against her. “Who called?”
She looked down at it, snapping it shut. “It was Mom. She just wanted to find out how I was doing.”
“Oh,” he said, his lips curling on a smile. “Well, come back to bed.”
She pulled out of his embrace, crossing the room to slide her phone into her purse. “I can’t. I promised Zoë I would meet her for coffee.”
She felt the intensity of his stare on her back, but she didn’t turn around to face him. She couldn’t. If she did, he might see too much.
And she couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Okay,” he said. “Maybe we could meet for lunch at Antoine’s?”
“We’ll see,” she replied over her shoulder as she headed toward the stairs.
* * * *
Clay watched her climb the stairs with a sense of foreboding. She was hiding something. He was sure of it. The only time she ever gave herself to him completely was in bed. Everything else was a struggle for control. She wouldn’t give in. And neither would he. He couldn’t.
Not while she had this foolish idea of finding Ruby’s killer.
He had to stop her.
And he would.
* * * *
Jade sat in the small office waiting for Detective Ambrose. She glanced over her shoulder to see him striding toward his office. Once inside, he closed the door behind him.
“Good Morning, Ms. Monroe. Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, taking a seat behind his desk.
“It’s okay. What happened to Mr. MacLean?”
“According to the coroner’s report, he was shot three times at close range. The presence of water in the lungs suggests that he was still alive when he went into the water. We don’t know if he was pushed into the water or if he fell from the force of the shot.”
Jade looked away, her stomach turning. She gripped the arms of the chair for strength as she tried to maintain her focus. “Why would someone kill him?” Even as she spoke the question aloud, she was afraid she already knew the answer.
His lips formed a grim line. “We think he may have come too close to something he was working on. Since it appears that the only case he was actively pursuing was your sister’s murder, there’s a good bet that there is a connection.”
She closed her eyes at his statement. It confirmed her worst fears. She was responsible for the poor man’s death. If she hadn’t involved him, he would still be alive.
“I want you to know, Ms. Monroe, that we are still actively working on your sister’s case.”
“Has there been any progress?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.
He reached across the desk to grab another file folder, opening it. “We were able to obtain a few DNA sample
s, which we cross-checked against the database. Unfortunately, there are no matches so far. We have asked a few suspects to come in to give voluntary samples, but that hasn’t been very successful.”
She straightened in her seat. “I don’t understand.”
He shrugged. “Unless I can show probable cause and get a search warrant, I can’t force people to submit to testing. And, unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like a lot of people are interested in cooperating.”
“Who have you asked?”
He fished through the papers, squinting to better read the type. “Clay Devlin, for one.”
A chill raced up her spine. “Clay?”
He nodded, his eyes still focused on the paper in front of him. “I approached him about it. Asked if he would just come in so we could clear him as a suspect.”
“And?”
His eyes met hers. “And he said he would have to speak with an attorney and get back with me. So far, I haven’t heard back from him.”
The air seemed to rush out her lungs. Clay wasn’t cooperating with the police? Why? Fear made her heart beat faster and her palms began to sweat. Clay wasn’t capable of something so brutal and vile.
Was he?
Surely she would sense it if he was. Or had her passion blinded her to the truth?
The fact that he didn’t want to give a sample that could potentially clear him was pretty damning evidence.
“What about Alex Talbot?”
He bit back a laugh. “Ms. Monroe, I’m sure by now you’re aware of just how influential Mr. Talbot is in this town,” he explained.
She lifted her chin in defiance. “Does that mean you’re afraid to ask him?”
His frown made the lines around his eyes deepen. “No. It means that he refused. And, if I’m going to accuse a man like Alex Talbot of murder, I’d better damned well have the evidence to back it up.”
“He was seeing Ruby before she died,” she said, her tone firm.
His eyebrows drew together. “She told you this?”
“No. Her friend Zoë told me.”
He scooted papers on his desk until he found the report he was looking for. “That would be Zoë Bell, I assume. Worked at Mystical Notions with Ruby?”