White Hot

by Elise Noble

  “So, what next?”

  I’d thought about that too. “One, we need to make sure Carr stays locked up. Two, we should look for unsolved murders wherever he’s had construction projects. I’ll bet we could attribute some of them to him.”

  “I’ll file a motion to dismiss in the morning,” Oliver said. “No grand jury in their right mind would touch Ethan after this.”

  At least one good thing had come out of today. Ethan would be free to get on with his life without that cloud hanging over him. Over us.

  But there was still one more storm on the horizon. It had almost been lost on me in all the drama.

  “Carr said the shooting outside the courthouse wasn’t him.”

  “What if he was lying?” Ethan asked. “He lied to you before.”

  “No, not this afternoon. This afternoon, he was bragging. He admitted to killing fifteen or sixteen women without missing a beat, plus Christina, and he wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to add another victim to his tally.”

  “So if it wasn’t him, who was it?”

  “It had to have been the brother,” Oliver said. “He’s the only other person with a good motive.”

  “Kevin had an alibi,” Emmy said. “While you were tied up this afternoon, I was on my way back from visiting him. The afternoon of the shooting, he was in a college lecture with thirty other witnesses. He works at a burger place for twelve bucks an hour, so he didn’t have the cash to hire outside help, and we couldn’t find any connections on the street.”

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  “He didn’t have the will either. In fact, he asked me to apologise to Dan and Ethan for his behaviour outside Harold’s house. Said he realised it made him as bad as the guy who killed his sister.”

  “You think he was being straight up?”

  “Hard to be a hundred percent sure, but I’d put money on it.”

  “So, who does that leave?”

  Emmy shrugged and turned to Ethan. “You pissed anyone else off lately?”

  A cold feeling of dread came over me. “No, he hasn’t. But I have.”

  CHAPTER 53

  ETHAN STILL HAD no idea about Jay and me. I suppose some stupid part of me had been hoping that if I pretended it never happened, it would all go away.

  But it hadn’t gone away. And what if it never did?

  Jay had a fierce temper, and he wasn’t renowned for his reasonableness. But was he heartless enough to order somebody’s murder?

  If I was forced to answer one way or the other, I’d have to go with yes.

  I closed my eyes, half wishing I’d suffocated this afternoon. Because at least then I wouldn’t have to see the look on Ethan’s face when I told him I’d once slept with the man who’d tried to send him to the electric chair.

  “I had that argument with Skinner,” I said, still with my eyes shut.

  “The bust-up after Ethan made bail, or another one?” Emmy asked.

  “Just that one.”

  Nate groaned, and I couldn’t blame him. He’d been present for the aftermath of Skinner round one, and it wasn’t pretty. “How bad was it?”

  “Some shouting, some yelling. He threatened to rip me apart and I threw a macchiato at him.”

  “Smooth, Dan, real smooth.”

  “I couldn’t help it, okay? He just knows all the right buttons to push.”

  Silence. I cracked an eyelid open, and Ethan was looking at me funny.

  “How does he know which buttons?”

  I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I dated Jay for a while. Back in a time when I’d lost my mind.”

  Ethan’s arm fell away from my leg. “What?”

  “He can be charming when he puts his mind to it, but underneath his smart suit and his fake tan, he’s a troll.”

  “Skinner wears fake tan?” Emmy asked.

  “He got a full-body spray every week.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Didn’t he get that horrible smell?”

  “He covered it up with expensive aftershave.”

  Ethan’s mouth flattened into a thin line. Shit. Okay, perhaps he didn’t need to know those details.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should have told you before. I just didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me now. Believe me; I know how stupid I was.”

  He stayed silent, hurt etched across his face. Oh, please say something. And not “it’s over” because I wouldn’t survive that.

  Finally, he spoke. “Just so I don’t get any more surprises, are there any other assholes in your past I should know about?”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding. “No. Only Jay and the guy Emmy put in the hospital.”

  Ethan gave my hand a squeeze. “I hate knowing you got hurt twice. It won’t happen a third time.”

  There were signs of relief from around the room, not least of all mine.

  Emmy pointed her pen in his direction, “Dan, keep that one.”

  “So, what about Jay?” Nate asked.

  “Money, connections, and motive—he’s got all three,” Emmy said. “I vote we take a good look at him.” She gave a sudden grin. “Even if he wasn’t responsible for Lyle, I’m sure there’s something we can find that he doesn’t want us to.”

  I nodded my agreement. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than digging it out.”

  CHAPTER 54

  WITH THE STRONG possibility that someone out there wanted to kill one or the other or both of us, Ethan and I were still at Riverley two weeks later. Whoever had been involved in the shooting, whether it was Skinner or someone else, had covered their tracks well. There was nothing.

  Not only that, Skinner had started his campaign for the commonwealth’s attorney position, and every time I saw a newspaper or pamphlet featuring his smarmy mug, I wanted to barf.

  At least all the charges against Ethan had been dropped, and he had access to his property once more. The first thing he’d done was put the house on the market.

  “I don’t ever want to set foot in there again. I’ll hire people to pack my stuff up.”

  “Where will you live?”

  “Anywhere but there. In a hotel if I have to.”

  A nervous shiver ran through me. As a confirmed commitment-phobe, I couldn’t believe I was about to ask what I was about to ask. “How about my place?”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Are you serious?”

  “We’re together all the time anyway. Might as well make it official.”

  “You’ve just made me the happiest man alive.”

  The significance of the last word in that sentence was not lost on me.

  We celebrated in our manner of choice—naked, slow, and sweet. We’d both discovered the joys of a relationship that lasted longer than an hour. Every night, we learned more about each other’s bodies, and I’d go so far as to say Ethan knew mine better than I did now. He sure made it rock. And me? I knew the taste of every inch of him, the way he shuddered when he came, the quiet sigh he gave when he released into me.

  I’d never get enough of him.

  The only thing he wasn’t keen on was my job, but he also understood I’d never quit. I’d discovered when I was a teenager that private investigation was what I’d been born to do, and if a man ever tried to make me choose between him and my career, well, he wasn’t the one for me.

  Ethan knew that, and he accepted it. It didn’t stop him from worrying every time I went out the gates, though. This morning was no different. He kissed me goodbye with a lot of tongue and told me he loved me—the best three words in the English language.

  At least my caseload was approaching normal now, or as normal as it could be with my stupid shoulder brace on. And while I went to Blackwood, Ethan would do his time in the gym then head to Spectre with Eli. Their messing around in the music room had turned more serious, and I’d heard whispers of a comeback. I’d also heard Ethan sing, and his husky voice did funny things to my insides. If they did decide to
put out a Ghost-slash-Red Bennett album, I’d have to invest in new speakers for my apartment plus a pair of waterproof panties.

  Right now, Ronan and his friend Reena had stepped in to manage Elastic Trickery and a few other acts while Ethan hunted for a replacement for Harold, easier said than done with Ethan’s standing in the music industry. Only an old hand with the right connections would do. But ol’ Harry had been right about one thing: no publicity was bad publicity. Ethan’s studio was booked solid through next year, and he had stars the world over clamouring to work with him.

  Ethan, in turn, had reevaluated his priorities.

  “The kids are coming to the studio tonight,” he told me over breakfast. “They want to work on a cover of Bruce Springsteen.”

  Trick, Vine, and Race had been to Spectre a couple of times. After I saw the places they were hanging out—the tunnel, the shed, the bin store—I wanted to help them, and Ethan did too.

  I’d already spoken to Race’s foster mom, so I did the grown-up thing and visited the other so-called parents. That experience made me want to spit. First came Trick’s mom, who was tolerable. She worked two jobs and spent most of her spare time with her boyfriend.

  “Could I have a quick chat about Trick?” I’d asked her.

  She sighed. “What’s he done now?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that my boyfriend’s a musician and Trick and a few other kids have been hanging out in our apartment to learn how to play the guitar. I just wanted to check you were okay with that.”

  “Oh, sure, that’s fine.” She patted me on the arm. “Just let me know if he bothers you, and I’ll tell him to stop coming around.”

  Fair enough.

  Then I’d shaken Vine’s mom out of her alcohol-induced coma on the sofa, whereupon she’d told me to fuck off unless I had more vodka. I gladly did so, taking Vine with me.

  Honestly, it was a miracle those kids had turned out as good as they had.

  After that, we’d come to an arrangement. If they went to school, passed whatever tests they had and did their homework on time, they could come to my place or Riverley or the studio whenever they wanted. They all knew the drill—call the Blackwood control room for a car and don’t go walking in dodgy areas where big kids took their phones.

  So far, it seemed to be working out.

  Or so I thought.

  I’d just ordered an Americano at my new favourite coffee place when Blackwood’s receptionist called.

  “Your fan club’s here again.”

  “The kids?”

  “All three of them.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  Dammit, why were they skipping school? We’d talked about this.

  It all felt kind of odd, spending time with them, but now I’d learned to live with Caleb’s death, it turned out doing kid stuff was actually quite fun, at least when they behaved.

  “Can you add a blueberry muffin, a chocolate chip cookie, and a glazed donut to that order?” I asked the guy behind the counter.

  “You get real hungry, miss,” he said with a grin.

  I knew the kids’ favourites now. Call me a soft touch.

  But where were their smiles? Three serious faces greeted me when I walked into the Blackwood lobby.

  “What’s up, boys?”

  “We got news,” Trick said, his face grim.

  “Yeah, it’s shitty,” Vine added.

  I was trying to improve his vocabulary, but it wasn’t easy, especially when Emmy meandered past and turned the air blue. Perhaps I should get him a Scrabble set? Out of the bedroom, that was my new favourite game, especially since Ethan had started writing me little messages with Scrabble tiles and leaving them all over the apartment.

  Race said nothing, just stared at me with his big aqua eyes. One day, he’d grow into them. Sometimes I was convinced he was a mini-Ethan. As well as the eyes, they shared the same skin tone and the same quiet demeanour. He clutched a plastic bag in his lap, his knuckles white.

  “Go on, hit me with it.”

  “Ethan said he couldn’t start the project properly again until the dude that shot at you got caught.”

  “That’s right, I’m afraid. It’s just not safe for him.”

  Thanks to the publicity about Carr, the city had found Ethan a new space to use. The old building needed to be demolished, which ironically was what Carr had wanted in the first place. The funding to run the project was already in place, jointly from Ethan’s pocket, mine, and Emmy’s pet charity, The Blackwood Foundation. Meanwhile, the forty or so kids who attended were bored as hell, according to Trick, who seemed to know everybody in Richmond.

  “Yeah, we get that,” Trick said. “So all of us from the project decided we’d look for the dude with the gun, then we can have our instruments back.”

  Oh, heaven help me. “Boys, you can’t do that. It’s just not safe.”

  “Well, we did. Now we found the asshole, can you arrest him or something?”

  What? “You’re saying you found the person who shot at us?”

  “Yeah, and the one driving, but it wasn’t his deal.”

  Shitting hell. I didn’t know whether to hug them or lock them up in a padded cell. Instead, I bit back the lecture I wanted to give and buzzed Emmy on the intercom.

  “Meet me in the conference room, would you? You’re gonna want to hear this.”

  The three boys tore into their snacks like they’d been starved for a month, which I knew wasn’t the case because Ethan and I had taken them out for pizza the evening before. By the time Emmy arrived with fresh coffee, they’d devoured everything.

  “Okay,” I said. “Can you start from the beginning?”

  Trick started talking, gesturing with his hands as was his habit. “So one of our buddies heard this rumour that some fancy attorney wanted some chick killed.”

  “That was you,” Vine elaborated.

  I’d assumed as much.

  “Anyway, you know the Skrills?”

  I nodded. They were a gang from the worst area of the city. The territory they controlled, about six square blocks, was a no-go area unless you had a death wish. Emmy and I used to dare each other to ride through there on our motorbikes when we were younger. I’d been shot at more than once.

  “So one of them was gonna get done for assault. He robbed this guy in a shop and landed him in the hospital. Anyway, the attorney said he’d make the charges disappear if the Skrills did him a favour.”

  “And I was the favour?”

  “Yeah, exactly.”

  “Do you know who was in the car?” I asked.

  Trick nodded. “The one with the gun was called Screw, and the driver was Lock.”

  I knew of both of them, but only by reputation. It would require a small army to get them out of their lair. Good thing Emmy had one.

  “Guess we’ll be having an evening out,” she said. “Maybe I should order new body armour first.”

  “I don’t suppose you know the lawyer’s name?” I asked.

  A quick shake of the head. “Nobody knows that, only Screw. But Screw isn’t stupid. Nobody trusts lawyers, so he recorded the conversation when the guy did the deal. We got that.”

  “Can’t you do some fancy computer shit and find out who it was?” Vine said.

  “Hang on—you’ve got a lawyer ordering a hit on tape?”

  “Yeah, sounds like a real dick.”

  Race held out his little bag to me. I took it and found a digital recorder inside.

  “How the hell did you get this?”

  “That’s why we call him Race,” Trick explained. “‘Cos he gets in places then gets out real quick.”

  EPILOGUE

  ETHAN LOOSENED HIS black tie and slid it off from around his neck. Lyle’s funeral had been a sombre affair, and the simple cremation had been overshadowed by a team of Blackwood bodyguards and the crowd of photographers and fans hanging around outside the chapel, still fixated on the Richard Carr case.

  Ghouls, the lot of them.
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  Ethan had kept his head down until the service was over. Guilt ate away at him, not just because of his involvement in the whole affair, but because today should have felt like the end and instead it felt like the beginning. The first day of his new life.

  This morning, he’d signed the papers to sell his house. Once it had been his home, but not anymore. He’d thought nobody would want to buy it with its grisly history, but the freaks had been out in force. One weirdo even asked if he could leave the bloodstained carpet in place. Screw that. He’d sold the property to a developer who wanted to level it and build six apartments. A fitting end for a place he’d once loved but now couldn’t bear to look at.

  But he loved his new home. Not just the apartment, but the person he shared it with. Dani. His Dani. The woman who’d believed in him, fought for him, and almost died for him. He owed her everything, and he’d spend the rest of his life giving it to her.

  And now she appeared in the doorway of the walk-in closet, wearing a black wraparound dress that showed nothing but hinted at everything.

  “Do you want to go out for dinner, or shall I cook something?” she asked.

  “Neither.” Dani still wore a shoulder brace, and she should be resting. “I’ll cook. You can sit down and watch TV.”

  She hit him full-beam with a smile, something that still made his heart swell up to bursting point. Dani was just so damn pretty, not that she cared. He stood in the doorway, slowly unbuttoning his shirt as she slipped her dress off and laid it over a chair. His cock twitched. Those curves got him every time, even when she covered them up with a pair of cartoon pyjamas. Some men liked lace and satin. He got hard for Wonder Woman.

  “What do you want to eat?” he asked, mentally cataloguing the contents of the fridge. “Lasagne?”

  “No.”

  “Chicken?”

  “Nope.” She took a step closer.

  “Meatballs?”

  “Getting warmer.”

  “Salad?”

  “Colder.”

  “I give up. Tell me.”

  She dropped to her knees and reached for his zipper. How the fuck had he ever gotten this lucky?

  “Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”