Stranded

by Jessica Frances

  “Which is probably why she sent me in to say this instead of doing it herself.”

  “You think I won’t kill you, as well?”

  “I do, but she thinks you’ll be distracted by me. I mean, who wouldn’t want to fuck me right now?” I quip.

  Rocky lets out a laugh, which I think speaks volumes for how I must look at the moment.

  “Fine, tell me what you two idiots found out, and I’ll decide whether or not I should kill you both.”

  I take a fortifying breath, grateful when I don’t follow that up with the need to vomit. “Troy said that King was gay, and he insinuated that he was in a relationship with Deputy Dickhead.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, right.” I wince at the slip of the name. I need to stop doing that. “Deputy Smith.”

  Rocky purses his lips in annoyance, either at my nickname or the accusation. “Anything else?”

  “He said King came into the bar on Saturday night. He left alone but seemingly pretty drunk.”

  “The M.E. just sent over the bloodwork. Tox screen came back with low alcohol in his system.”

  I shrug. “Maybe he sobered up. Anyway, we saw your other deputy there at the bar, and she told us that Deputy Smith was working that night. It stands to reason that he might have seen him.”

  I hold back mentioning how he seems to have a hard-on for making sure I’m made to be a suspect.

  “Anything else?” Rocky bites out, and maybe if I wasn’t so hungover, I might have caught on that he is more furious than I’ve ever seen him.

  I think back, wondering if that’s all. “Um … Love will not give you any sympathy when you’re chucking your guts up. Instead, she’ll film it and post it on your social media pages.”

  Rocky’s lips twitch at that, but he quickly moves back to stoic.

  “I’ll speak to Deputy Smith. In the meantime, how about you avoid hanging out with Love? She seems to be the reason you get into these messes, if you’re to be believed.”

  I nod, taking another large gulp of the miracle drink, already feeling better.

  “Shit, whatever that was, you need to bottle it up and sell it. Fuck, I feel so much better already.”

  “Macy is incredible. Maybe mention that in one of your … things.”

  “My things?”

  “Yes, your video things.”

  “Wow, Gramps, don’t get too hip on me.”

  He shoves my arm lightly. “I’m not completely ignorant. I watched some of your videos last night. They’re not bad.”

  I almost spit out the last small gulp of hangover cure that I have left. As it is, my mouth hangs open at his admission.

  “You watched my videos?” I ask him dumbly.

  “Yes. Why? Isn’t that what people are supposed to do?” He sounds defensive.

  “Oh shit, please tell me you didn’t see the one of me chucking?” I drop my head into my hands.

  “I must have missed that one. The video on Midsummer was good. I can see why the mayor wants to hire you.”

  “Thanks.” I know it shouldn’t matter, but knowing he watched my videos, and even liked them, means something to me.

  He stares at me and I stare back for a few moments, taking it all in.

  Rocky is unbelievably hot. And in uniform? Wow times a million. I know I’m going to forever fantasize about him taking me in that uniform. It’ll involve cuffs, him in a frisky mood, and reading me my rights while he takes me from behind.

  Why couldn’t things be different? Why couldn’t he be in a different headspace? Why couldn’t I be something other than a nomad right now? And why couldn’t I not be a lead suspect in a murder investigation?

  I’m not asking for much here, am I?

  “Conner?” Rocky’s voice snaps me from my haze.

  “Sorry, what did you say?”

  “Just reminding you how you mentioned me in one of your videos. Something about wishing I would use my handcuffs on you.”

  I redden at the reminder. Shit, I did say that, didn’t I? I just never thought Rocky would bother to see it.

  Well, it’s not like my desire for him should come as some sort of surprise.

  “Sir, do you have a sec …?” A new voice breaks our staring contest, and I glance into the disapproving eyes of Deputy Dickhead. “Oh, right. Guess you’re still fucking the suspect.”

  “Randy, you seriously need to watch your fucking tongue. I’m your superior, and a damn good sheriff. I would never compromise a case,” Rocky snaps, quickly moving to his feet so he towers over me as I continue to stay seated.

  “I’d have believed that before this case.”

  Rocky narrows his eyes in obvious anger before he crosses his arms over his chest.

  The way his arm muscles bunch up forces me to shift uncomfortably on the couch.

  Damn, he’s fucking hot.

  “How about you tell me about your relationship with King Jr.?”

  Dickhead’s eyes widen in shock. “What?”

  “Got a witness who is saying you two were in some sort of relationship. Now, as far as I’m aware, King Jr. was straight. You care to tell me differently?”

  Smith shifts his eyes to me, and even though I’m clearly not any sort of witness, it probably doesn’t take a genius to work out that I told Rocky something.

  “You fucking asshole,” he spits at me. “You come into my town, take Rocky’s dick, and think you’re top shit? You think you can just take all this from me?”

  I want to ask him what the hell he’s talking about, but I don’t get a word out before Rocky is shoving himself forward and grabbing hold of him.

  Smith shoves Rocky’s hands off him, pushing him away.

  I stand up now, feeling the aggressive mood in the air as things turn hostile.

  “Fuck you! Fine, yes, King and I were fucking. You happy now? I don’t have fuck buddies out of town, so I was fucking around with him!”

  “And you didn’t think this information was something you should have shared? You were quick to jump down my throat for being involved with Conner, but being involved with the fucking victim didn’t ring any alarm bells for you?” Rocky’s tone is lethal.

  “I didn’t kill him!”

  “How can I trust that when you’ve already been lying to me?”

  Smith actually stumbles backward, looking so undone.

  I don’t understand why Rocky’s words affect him. Not until he speaks again, that is.

  “You’ve known me for my entire life. I’ve worked alongside you for years. I consider you one of my closest friends. And you don’t trust me? You met him a few days ago,” he snaps, waving angrily my way, “and you trust him more than you trust me?”

  “Right now, yeah, I do,” Rocky snaps. “And might I point out that you’ve known me for the same amount of time, yet you’ve had no issues questioning my own loyalties in this case.”

  “Rocky,” I quietly say, sensing I should not be here for this conversation.

  “You shut the fuck up!” Smith yells at me before he turns back to Rocky. “You’ll have my resignation on your desk by the end of the day.”

  My mouth drops open at his words. That has to be the most dramatic response to being called out ever. He’s quitting?

  Smith swings around, ready to storm out of the office, no doubt, when Rocky speaks up again and halts his dramatic exit.

  “Did you see King on Saturday night outside Cool Sip?”

  Smith looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, I did. He was stumbling; thought he was drunk. Figured I’d take him home to his dad’s, but then he freaked out on me; jumped out of the car while I was still fucking driving. The idiot. He ran off, and I assumed he’d get home eventually.”

  Rocky’s stare is furious; however, his tone gives nothing away. “What time was this?”

  “Eleven o’clock or near then. I went back to the Cool Sip and took Pete Dillon home at midnight after he pissed himself outside the bar.”

  “You held back important information d
uring a murder investigation, and you hid your involvement with the victim from me. You also spoke out of turn to me, your superior, several times. I’ve given you warnings before, but I don’t believe you respect me enough, or care enough, to realize your errors and learn from them. Therefore, I want your resignation on my desk within the hour.”

  Smith stiffens, but he doesn’t argue. He just storms out, slamming the door shut behind him.

  The silence is deafening.

  I feel so far out of place that I wish I had the ability to shift through walls.

  “Are you sure that was—”

  “Shut up,” Rocky barks.

  My mouth clicks shut, though my anger rises.

  I shuffle my feet, figuring it’s my turn to take my leave. Rocky is clearly furious, and I definitely don’t want to be on the end of that.

  “Wait,” Rocky calls out before I can move past him. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry.”

  I nod, accepting that this has been an incredibly tense few minutes and that he basically just fired his deputy, one who he has apparently been friends with for most of his life.

  Something tells me I’ve likely made a lifelong enemy of Deputy Dickhead. I can see that biting me in the ass later.

  With Rocky trying to catch his breath, we just stare at each other in the silence. I watch as he shifts from his obvious anger, his face flushed and hands fisted, until he eventually calms down.

  “You okay?” I quietly ask, half-expecting to get snapped at again, but deep down, I know that tension has dissipated, at least for now.

  “Yeah. Sorry you had to witness that.”

  “Not your fault,” I point out. “Sorry you had to go through that. Was he really a friend?”

  “I’ve known him for years, but I wouldn’t have said we were close friends. More like friendly, like any other coworker would be.”

  It doesn’t take a genius to see that Randy clearly had an inflated vision of how he and Rocky were together, just like he had a clear desire for there to be more between them.

  “Did you know he liked you?”

  Rocky tilts his head slightly, his thoughts hidden behind an unreadable mask. “I was aware he wouldn’t be against something happening.”

  “I guess you’re used to getting those looks from people,” I say, waving my arm at him. “Pretty sure you in that uniform could send a straight man to his knees.”

  Rocky’s eyes heat, and his hand twitches in a way that I get the feeling he is trying to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing me.

  “That what you want to do right now? Get on your knees?”

  “I want to do a hell of a lot with you, especially with you in that uniform, but we both know the score. You spelled it out pretty clearly.”

  He sighs, and the desire he unmistakably feels shifts to calculating before he says, “Listen, I know we haven’t exactly gotten off to the right start, but maybe we can reach an arrangement?”

  “What kind of arrangement?” I ask hesitantly, pretty sure whatever he’s about to say is going to test how much self-worth and restraint I have.

  “If you’re going to be here for a while, then maybe we can enjoy each other. It would just be for a short amount of time. My job and daughter come first, and I would need your assurance that you know this isn’t long-term and has an expiration date.”

  Well, as far as offers go, it isn’t my worst.

  It’s also far from my best.

  A knock at the door saves me from having to give Rocky an answer.

  Love opens the door, not bothering to wait for permission to enter, before she sticks her head inside, covering her eyes with her hand. “Conner, put your clothes back on. We got somewhere to be.”

  I growl, “For fuck’s sake, Lo, I’m not naked!”

  “Shit, then Rocky’s still angry!” She ducks her head back out the door.

  Rocky charges after her. “You’ll not be investigating this murder, Love. I told you I would stick you in a jail cell, and I meant that. You know I’m not messing around here.”

  “Calm down, Rocky. I’m taking Conner to Angus Thom’s mansion.”

  “You are?” I ask, not recalling her mentioning this being on the agenda.

  “Yep. Aunt June put in a call and, apparently, Henry Prince jumped at the chance to play tour guide. I guess he’s a fan of yours.”

  “I’m going to meet Henry Prince?” I ask, sounding breathless even to my own ears.

  “Fuck yeah, you are! You don’t still feel like chucking, do you? I mean, it’ll be funny as hell, but I get the feeling you’ll never live that down.”

  “I feel fine,” I say absentmindedly, already thinking ahead to the fact that I’m about to meet Henry freaking Prince! He’s been my favorite actor since … well, since his breakout roll in Avery’s Beach.

  He’s also been my spank bank material since then, too.

  “Well, shit, don’t swoon at his feet,” Love teases, grabbing my arm and wrapping hers around it.

  “Don’t forget about what I said before, Conner. I want an answer soon. Just know I don’t share,” Rocky states, his voice back to being closed off.

  “Don’t you have a murder investigation to be working on, Sheriff?” Love reminds him.

  He doesn’t respond to her jab, just keeps his intense stare on me.

  The weight of it sits with me for the entire car ride and up until we pull up to the security gate and are let in.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do about his proposition. I want Rocky, but I’m not sure I can live with the terms he’s set.

  But then finding the answer right this second doesn’t matter because, as we go through security checks and are searched, it starts to become all the more real where we are and who I am about to meet.

  Henry. Fucking. Prince!

  Hell yes!

  Chapter Twelve

  “This is where they store all the costumes from past and present films. Angus is a stickler for keeping every damn thing,” Henry says, waving his arm at a closed door before he leans in and lowers his voice. “I tried to take home a sword from the set of Our Last Stand, and he caught me. Chewed my ass out. It was the last day of filming! It’s been three years since that film, and he hasn’t gotten that thing out once.”

  I’m not sure if it’s because Henry is so close to me, or if I’m just still recovering from last night, but I think I’m close to passing out.

  “Can we take a peek inside?” Love asks, eyeing the guards behind us.

  “You want to?” Henry asks me.

  “Hell yeah, I do,” I gasp, excitement building in my chest. “Does it have that suit you wore in Avery’s Beach? That was fucking awesome!”

  Henry chuckles as he waves his hand at one of the three men who comes over and opens the door by typing in a code on the keypad. It opens into a darkened room, but Henry quickly flicks a switch, and my eyes bug out of my head.

  The room is as big as a warehouse, or at least it looks it. There are rows upon rows of clothing, all hung up on poles. It looks like there is a conveyer belt that shifts the clothes down in height. Most are in protective sleeves, but it is still breathtaking, nonetheless.

  “I’m not sure where the suit is, but I can show you what I’ve been wearing mostly on this set.” Henry grabs my arm and moves me to the left side of the area.

  I’m happily following until we reach an area that makes me actually fall to my knees.

  There is a sea of shoes, and not just any shoes, fucking beautiful shoes.

  For all my life, I’ve had a thing for shoes. They can make or break an outfit. They have the ability to give you confidence, give you support, and they sure as hell put me in a good mood.

  “Conner, you okay?” Henry asks softly, staring down at me in concern.

  “These … There is … What is this?”

  “The shoes?”

  “I’m in heaven right now, aren’t I? I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  Henry laughs, crouching
down beside me. “That’s right, I remember from some of your videos. You mention you have a thing for shoes.”

  “I want to live here,” I tell him unashamedly.

  I had to leave almost all my shoes back in Chicago. It just wasn’t practical to bring them all, so I entrusted them to my best friend Sasha. Most of them, I got from her in the first place.

  Sasha learned early on that she could bribe me to do most anything when she was offering up one of her pairs of heels. We share a shoe size, and the same love for hot heels.

  Declan, her husband, basically cried when I dropped off my shoes. Mostly because he had a bad feeling Sasha was being serious when she mentioned that he would have to add on another room onto the house so she could have a room for them all. I don’t actually know if that’s going to happen, but I have the sudden urge to send her a message and demand a photo of them all so I can see if they’re okay.

  “Out of all of these, which ones do you like the best?” Henry asks.

  I look out over the sea of shoes, seeing a rainbow of colors, all different styles and heel heights. There are also some kickass boots, but my eyes catch a pair of Alexander McQueen Hobnail ankle boots. The heel is killer, but they look fucking amazing.

  “Ah, I see,” Henry says, following my eyes. “I think Joanna wore those in the scene at the ball from Secret Affair.”

  “I never knew that. I love that movie; seen it a dozen times. She wore those?”

  “Yep. Don’t think they made the cut.” Henry laughs. “Kind of a waste of money in the end.”

  “Anything Alexander McQueen is never a waste of money,” I inform him, finally starting to feel ridiculous for being on the ground.

  I begin to get back to my feet, taking Henry’s hand when he shoots to his feet and offers to help me.

  “I must be getting old. That was easier to do in my twenties,” I grumble, hating that I said that out loud. Henry Prince doesn’t need to be reminded that I’m basically an old man compared to him!

  “What was? Being on your knees?” he asks, managing to keep a straight face when my own goes a dark shade of red.

  “Sheriff Green doesn’t seem to think you have any issues,” Love speaks up, scaring the shit out of me. I’d forgotten there were people even with us.