They may not be destined for the same happily ever after, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use his help. She did need someone other than herself to rely on. And, if nothing else, he’d convince her of that before the case closed and they were both left to go their separate ways.
41
The lamp light above stuttered, then died.
His blood quickened.
He drew in a mouthful of car fumes and death. Most people found the dark terrifying. But then, most people were weak.
The lamp ahead flickered, and he waited a few seconds before it too went out. Amazing what one learned on the internet these days—bombs, makeshift firearms, how to short-circuit the city’s street lighting. All there for any Tom, Dick or killer to find.
He dropped into a squat and slid his hand down limp flesh and bone, counting fingers until he’d located the one. The soft crack of cartilage slicing between the metal blades barely disrupted the silence.
He grinned into the nothingness. Revelled in it.
Find something you enjoy and you’ll never work a day in your life. He didn’t know where he’d heard the idiom, but it was first-rate advice. Life should be a thrill, and it was, every single day.
Both finger and cutter were dropped into plastic, along with his gloves, and he slid his forefinger and thumb across the top to seal the bag before slipping it into the hole in his jacket lining.
He straightened his legs and gasped as phlegm pitched up into his throat. His days may be numbered, but his legacy would far outlive the man who sustained it. Him. Not that useless waste of space who’d grown soft all those years in his prison cell. His demise was long overdue. Soon he’d join the woman who was good enough to fuck, but never good enough to marry.
A growl chased the bile burning up his oesophagus.
The old prick’s decision had made him into the bastard he was today. That and his advice.
Man up, boy. Who wants a pussy for a son?
How about it, Dad? Am I man enough for you now?
42
Funny how the weather failed to reflect the mood at ground level.
Jayda tilted her face to the heavens. Clumps of puffy white clouds chased the sun across the broad, mostly blue sky. If the day were in a novel, no doubt the author would have written an expanse of looming grey and a sense of doom. There was none of that. She could revel in the warmth of the sun’s rays on her skin and lose herself in the wonder of being alive.
If only her limbs didn’t feel as though they were newly carved from a tree stump.
She stood at her father’s side and, for the first time in twenty-plus years, felt as if she didn’t belong.
People filled the grassy stretch of back garden for the post-funeral gathering, spilling up the stairs, past the life-sized placard of Bec’s smiling face and into what was once her parents’ home. Now her father lived there alone and her mother hadn’t even bothered to show up to her own daughter’s funeral.
If she’d had a hint of where to find her, Jayda would have confronted her and demanded answers. Only, she hadn’t a clue. The situation stunk of dodge and she was left with nowhere to turn. And no one to turn to. Her father was no help.
An emotional storm brewed in her stomach as she nodded and smiled and returned inane comments with ones of her own. When all she wanted to do was kick and scream and throw things, and be anywhere else but here. ‘I have to go.’
Her father’s touch was like ice. ‘You just got here.’
‘I arrived an hour ago and I have an appointment.’
‘What could be more important than being with your family?’
‘Don’t know, Dad. Perhaps you should ask Mum.’ He withered before her eyes.
Hell! She was frustrated and disappointed and angry, but with her mother, not him. He’d been through the wringer, they all had. Last thing he needed was a dishing of more angst from his only surviving daughter.
‘I’m sorry, Dad, I just . . .’ Her vision blurred and she swallowed, fighting back the tide that would surely wash her away.
‘Thought you might need this.’ Seth sidled up between them, pressing a cool drink into her palm.
Memory skidded through her body as his fingertips brushed lightly over her hand and up her arm.
‘Thanks.’
Their gazes tangled and a wild heat braised her cheeks. Surely every one of her emotions was bared for him to see.
She blinked. Shifted focus from his eyes to his lips and tried not to reflect how for a few amazing moments last night he’d made her forget the emotional soup that was her life. How she needed that distraction now.
He handed an identical glass to her father and proceeded to exchange niceties, effectively dissolving the tension between them.
She lifted the glass to her lips. Lemonade chilled a path down her throat, the cold inside warring with the radiant warmth from his body’s proximity.
She edged away. This was all wrong, on more levels than she could put a list to. How could she think about sex, about wanting him again? Here. Now.
The moisture returned to her eyes, like a damned yo-yo forever bouncing back, and she blinked with more determination than before. There was still a killer to be caught.
Then, and only then, would she be free to mourn the loss of her sister. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned.
‘Darren!’
Without a word he wrapped her into his warmth, his arms around her like hot chicken soup for her soul. ‘I’m so sorry, Jayda.’
The shudder of those relentless tears scuffled at her eyelids and she pressed her face into the wool of his sweater. Her hand dropped and she barely acknowledged someone saving her glass before it slid from her fingers.
‘I thought you were back tomorrow.’ Her voice was muffled against his chest, but she couldn’t seem to pull herself back.
‘I changed my flight when I heard the funeral was today. I’m so sorry I missed the service. Why didn’t you tell me?’
She shook her head. She had no explanation for a lot of the things she’d done this past week. Avoiding calling a friend so he couldn’t be here for her today was just one. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Juz.’
‘He called you?’
‘Yeah. He said regardless of how we felt about each other, we both felt the same way about you, and that was what counted now.’
Warmth seeped into her skin where the sun’s rays had failed. Darren’s breath fanned her hair and she didn’t care that this moment would fuel weeks of scandal with her family and friends. Thankfully her squad had already been and gone, were no doubt this very moment on their way to question Madden. Her arms tightened.
He flinched.
She pulled back. ‘Are you okay?’
Darren’s hand flew to his chest as colour leached from the olive of his complexion. ‘I overworked on the bench press yesterday.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘So, tell me, how’s the case going?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s going. We’re getting closer.’
‘That’s great.’ His you can’t fool me gaze scanned her face. ‘How’re you holding up?’
‘She needs a break.’ Her father stepped closer and she cast him a look she hoped was withering and effective.
He still looked pale, unwell even. Grief did that to a person. For some, it could even steal the thunder from their storm. But looking at him now, at the vigour in his eyes, she realised she should have known better than to place her father in that category. Nothing could stop him when he set his mind to something.
‘Thanks for coming, Darren.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss, Dean. Bec’s death was a terrible shock. She’ll be missed.’
They nodded, shook hands, exchanged the type of look two men exchanged at the funeral of a loved one.
‘Now you’re here, perhaps you can convince Jayda to see sense. To take time away from Melbourne and work.’
The workaholic calling the kettle black. The anomaly didn’t sit well, as though a man oth
er than her father had spoken.
Darren hid his discomfort well. More a save-the-world, Kumbaya kind of guy, he was the last person her father should have enlisted for his cause.
She planted her heels. ‘Plenty of time for that when we find Bec’s killer, Dad.’
The air thickened, words spoken and unspoken hovering between them. Her father’s expression was grim, as if he were steeling himself to push further.
‘We should get moving.’ Seth cupped her elbow. She’d almost forgotten he was still there, white horse and all.
Darren turned, treating Seth to a slow trek from head to toe before he nodded and offered his hand. ‘You must be Seth.’
Heat slinked across her cheeks. At a guess, Darren was stirring, and the question in Seth’s glance said his mischief was noted, and working.
‘You must be Jayda’s until-now absent neighbour.’
‘And close friend.’ Darren gave another nod, this time the knowing kind. Seth’s expression tightened.
He looked . . . jealous!
Warmth frittered up from her tummy, fanning out through every cell until she wondered if it were possible to combust on attraction alone.
She didn’t know why Seth’s possessiveness had her heart racing so fast, a feeling all new and too delicious to question. Having a man want her so bad—she couldn’t mistake the heat in that look, regardless of his motives and the headline he chased—was enough to make her want a re-enactment of the past night’s activities.
Why not?
Reasons for and against waved their arms, screaming pick me! She’d be a liar if she said she gave both sides equal weight. Against was hazy, while for . . . she wanted for to win. It was simple. They were adults, free agents, neither one looking for anything past the crazy attraction they shared.
Seth’s ‘happy for now’ scenario.
First, they had a list to work through. The job was priority. But once they were done . . .
The heat in her body spiked. When they were done, she’d be able to forget everything again, but the wondrous slide of Seth’s skin over hers.
Seth’s chest clamped under a surge of green mist. Yet another man to add to the ‘who loves Jayda?’ fan club. Did the woman have no female friends?
Her eyes glazed over at Darren’s cheesy expression and he wanted to deck the guy. This from someone who abhorred physical violence in any form.
Yet, something about Jayda continually dragged the caveman out in him. She glanced at her watch. ‘We should go.’
‘Right.’ He hated the bite in his voice, but couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She lit a fire in his gut and he should resent her to hell and back for doing it so easily and inadvertently. Instead he resented the men she had falling out of the woodwork and into her life.
Darren returned his attention to Jayda. ‘Where are you going?’
‘A lead.’
Dean perked up. ‘A lead?’
Her gaze slipped from Darren as she eyed her father warily. ‘I’ll let you know if it comes to anything.’
‘You’re not going to the prison now?’
‘I told you, I couldn’t get anything until tomorrow.’
‘Good.’
‘But I am going.’ Her eyes sparked, and he knew firsthand how intimidating it was to be on the receiving end of that fire. ‘When are you and Mum leaving?’
Dean’s expression shuttered. ‘After we’ve tied up a few loose ends.’ His gaze sharpened. ‘Sure you won’t reconsider?’
‘Not while a killer’s loose.’
He nodded, as if he’d suspected nothing less.
She turned to Darren. ‘I’ve lots to tell you.’
‘Then I’ll put a Moscato on ice. Tonight?’
‘I’ll call. It depends how I go—’
‘—working through your list?’
The corners of her lips kicked upward. ‘How’d you know?’
Darren raised his brows. ‘How long have we been friends?’
‘Long enough for you to know me too well.’
‘I’ll be waiting for your call.’ Darren winked, and it was impossible for Seth’s gut to wind any tighter.
Even blind he could have sensed their camaraderie. They were close. Closer perhaps than her and Juz. And this man, with his model physique and looks, was not remotely gay, despite his almost embarrassing scrutiny seconds ago. So where did he fit in?
‘Bye, Dad.’
Seth watched Jayda steel herself before their hug, this one rather less easy than the last.
‘I wish you’d change your mind.’ Dean’s voice was gruff.
She pulled back. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t.’
Her father appeared to hesitate, then he nodded, and understanding flowed between them—the kind Seth had never known. It sparked a longing inside that he’d long since suppressed.
Idiot!
‘Ready?’ She turned to him, rainforest eyes wide and waiting.
He nodded, shaking the trouble from his thoughts to exchange pleasantries with Dean and Darren before pressing his palm to her back in an action that he knew was petty and pathetic.
Half an hour later they’d worked through the crowd, Jayda’s expression closing a little further with each offer of sympathy.
They clicked their seatbelts in silence. Jayda worked the ignition of the pink beast, her shaky hand grinding the gears painfully upwards until they cruised almost smoothly into fourth.
‘There’s no rush to get to Black Keys Security, you know. We could have stayed longer.’
She shot him a sideward glance. ‘I was thinking we should have left earlier.’
A car darted into their path. She slammed the brakes and horn in unison, only just preventing the beast from stalling.
He clutched at his seat, thankful for the tight grip of his seatbelt. ‘Never a cop around when you need one.’
‘Funny, ha ha.’
‘It was, wasn’t it?’ He relaxed as the car’s speed steadied. ‘So, do you think the key could be the answer to finding the killer?’
‘Only time will tell.’
Strange how changing the topic from the funeral to a murderer saw the rigid line of her shoulders relax.
‘And if it does belong to Black Keys, what then? Have you considered that you’ll need a locker number, maybe even an access code to get into the place?’
‘The locker numbers are made up of four-digits and I doubt they’ve changed the six-digit passcode or the protocol to get into the building since I was here last.’
‘That’s a lot of assuming.’
‘Maybe, but it’s calculated.’
‘Only time will tell.’ He couldn’t help the words, or the grin that hijacked his lips. It was gratifying to see Jayda smile, even more so since that smile was directed at him.
She reached across and fiddled with a knob on the stereo until music bounded out from the speakers.
Mile after mile of Princes Highway whizzed past his window until they reached the turnoff for Koo Wee Rup Road. The same turn-off they’d take tomorrow for their visit with Madden. Odd that the storage facility was located less than five minutes from the prison.
Black Keys Security was a large, grey box of a building guarded by an iron gate worthy of a medieval fortress. As the car idled beside the security keypad, Jayda reached through the window, her fingers hovering over the numbers. He watched her indecision before the keys beeped with each punch of a number.
There was a moment’s silence when he wondered if she’d guessed wrong, then the gates creaked and juddered and slid slowly open, and he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Jayda had instincts sharper than the razor edge of a knife. When she wasn’t conceding to obstinacy, that is.
She cut the engine and jiggled the key until it slipped from the ignition. ‘Time to find out whether we’re trailing a flock of squawking birds.’
He followed her lead and got out of the car. ‘What makes you think we’re on some kind of wild-goose chase?’
She s
kirted the bonnet and made for the wide, double glass entrance. ‘Nothing yet. But with this case, it’s always a distinct possibility.’
She pushed the doors open and entered a narrow stairway to the left of a wide goods elevator. When they reached the first floor, she hesitated in front of two arrows marking the direction of locker numbers. Taking a deep breath, she turned right.
He didn’t question her choice. She had to be working a theory, and who was he to question her methods when he hadn’t Hades’ chance in offering an alternative?
From the dimensions of the roller doors either side, these were not security deposit boxes, they were rooms, possibly more than a square metre in size, each one secured by a large, black padlock.
Jayda stopped almost a third of the way down the corridor and Seth checked the number above the door.
‘2101?’
‘January twenty-first. The date the photo was taken.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘It was my father’s birthday.’
The theory was as good as any other, but he didn’t hold out much hope of her being right, first guess.
‘Here goes.’ The key fit when her trembling fingers pressed it into the lock, but when she made to turn, it resisted. ‘Damn!’
‘Let me try.’
Her look scowled give it your best shot, sunshine! but she stepped aside to allow him space. He took the key and jiggled it lightly before feeling the snap as it connected. Slowly he turned.
The lock clicked and the arm sprang loose from its shackle.
‘Way to go, Seth!’
He pushed back a ridiculous glow from her praise and stood aside. ‘You should open it.’
She nodded, slipping the padlock free before yanking the handle until the heavy metal door gave way. It creaked and wailed and lurched in protest, the din echoing off the walls, floor and ceiling before lumbering down the hall.
The beat of his heart stuttered, then stopped.
He could feel Jayda beside him, mouth gaping, her body as rigid and stunned as his.
He didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Before they’d arrived and seen the size of the door, something a lot smaller. The size of a safe rather than a very small room.
Lethal in Love Page 30