Secrets in Sunset Beach 2

by Ivy Riggs

  Heather smiled, tucking his sweaty hair back from his forehead, and leaned down to kiss him as he softened inside her. She lifted from him, sitting to one side as she corrected her underwear and pulled her dress back around her body. Derick sat up, still recovering his breath, and gingerly peeled the condom off, tucking himself back in and going to the trash can to throw it away.

  Heather held out her hand when he returned, and he settled behind her with a sigh, pulling her into his lap, arms settled warm and heavy around her waist. He kissed her neck and hooked his chin over her shoulder as they watched the moon start to sink down to the horizon and the sky begin to turn pink and that deep, deep blue of an encroaching sunrise.

  She turned her head and kissed his cheek, and Derick's smile was wide. "Did you bring more than one?" she asked.

  Derick's eyes flashed, and he swallowed. "Yeah," he rasped.

  She grinned. "Good."

  Chapter Four

  J ake didn't have a lot of self-indulgences in life. He had his job, which even in the slow season was relatively steady enough to bring in basic income. When he wasn't renting out jet skis and boards, or giving lessons, or taking people on scuba and snorkel tours during the winter, he was working on his car.

  The red 1968 Camaro had basically been a shell when he first found it, barely street legal and certainly in no state to take farther than ten miles at a time. He'd bought it with the check his mom had sent him for his twenty-first birthday and been lovingly fixing up the car with any spare cash he had ever since.

  It was truly a labor of love. Derick didn't approve of Jake's penchant for spending any money he had that didn't go to rent or food on the car, but he didn't outright forbid it either. Jake made enough extra cash from hustling, and he was sure the only reason Derick didn't complain more about it was because Jake still made sure his portion of the rent was paid on time and never asked him for a loan that lasted longer than a night.

  The day was bright and Jake didn't have to go to work until the afternoon, so the early morning found him in the yard with the car, the hood popped so he could try to figure out what kept making that weird rattling noise. Beside him, an old boombox that had broken around the only CD inside it so it couldn't be opened and replaced, softly played AC/DC in time with the buzzing bugs and occasional loud thrum of his neighbor's lawnmower.

  He heard a car and turned, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face as he saw a shiny baby blue Mercedes pull up in front of his house. It wasn't a car he'd seen around his neck of the woods, and given that it looked like something that would be in a music video, he doubted whoever was inside belonged here.

  The car shifted into park and the engine went quiet. The driver door opened, revealing a blonde Jake recognized. He grinned widely, recognizing Heather's friend, Chasity. He'd hung around the Hummingbird long enough to know her – everyone knew everyone in Sunset Beach anyway – and while he had no idea what would have convinced her to come to his house, he was more than happy to entertain a pretty girl for however long she wanted.

  Chasity pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head. She was clad in a tube top the same soft blue as her car, black shorts riding high on her thighs and pinched tight around her slim waist. She grinned at Jake in greeting, shouldering her little golden bag, and closed the door. It locked with a chirp.

  "Morning!" she greeted him, walking around the car and toward the open driveway where Jake's Camaro was perched. It was separated from the front lawn and the porch in an open carport attached to the side of the house. "Is Heather here?"

  "No," Jake told her, wiping his hands on his long shorts as she approached. "Sorry. Derick went out with her last night and neither of them is back yet."

  Chasity's bright eyes flashed, her smile wide and toothy, smug. "Lucky them," she purred, coming to a halt in front of Jake. Her weight shifted, all on one leg, hip cocked out as she folded her arms below her chest, emphasizing her cleavage. "So, you're all by your lonesome?"

  "Guess so," Jake replied with a smile. He held out his hand. "I don't think we've ever been properly introduced."

  "Chasity," she said with a grin, shaking his hand daintily. "And you're Jake. Derick's brother."

  "That I am."

  "I've heard a lot of good things about Derick," she said, stepping closer. Her eyes moved past Jack, to the Camaro, and brightened in intrigue. "This your car?"

  "Yes," Jake said, gesturing to it proudly. "This is my girl. She's almost ready to hit the road, I think. Just needs some TLC and a fresh paint job."

  "She's gorgeous," Chasity purred, walking past him and setting her hand on the sun-warm hood. She turned back to look at Jake. "You'll have to take me for a ride sometime, when she's ready."

  "Absolutely."

  Chasity grinned, folding her arms again, hip resting against the car's door. "I like a man who's good with his hands," she said, looking him up and down. Jake smiled and closed the hood with a light thump, wiping his hands off on the towel tucked into his back pocket. "You got any beer?"

  "Nothing good," Jake replied.

  She giggled. "Good enough for an excuse to invite me inside?"

  Jake laughed, looking her up and down again. Derick probably wouldn't approve, and this was Heather's friend, but Jake didn't allow himself many indulgences in life, and if there was one thing Derick couldn't judge him for, it was entertaining a pretty girl.

  "Absolutely," he said again, and Chasity smiled at him with the anticipation of a hunting cat. He wiped his face with the towel and set it on the car, tapping the boombox with his toe so the music went quiet. "Come on in."

  Chapter Five

  B reakfast was normally a quick affair in the Montgomery household, when and if it happened at all. Heather worked late, and despite always trying to be up so she could watch the sunrise, she was prone to the occasional nap after the sun had risen. Her father was an early riser, though less often as Heather, and spent most of his days in pseudo-retired bliss, ferried off to anywhere he desired to go. He was still very involved in all of his businesses and investments, and he had meetings from dawn to dusk, which often kept him out of the house during breakfast hours.

  They had a housekeeper – everyone on this side of Sunset Beach did – and she and her daughter would come in the afternoon after Heather had left for work and Rod was still out and about. When Rod had an important business dinner, he hired professional chefs out from Los Angeles and waiters to impress. Otherwise, the house was empty. Heather wasn't the world's best cook, but she could follow a recipe well enough and the weekly delivery of their groceries always kept their kitchen well-stocked.

  She smiled as Derick entered the kitchen, undoubtedly roused by the smell of coffee brewing on the stove. They had a Cuban coffee maker, one of the oldest pieces of equipment in the house that predated even her – her father had told her it held onto the flavor of the grounds, and the longer it was used, the better the coffee came out.

  She was by the stove, a gas flame burning happily beneath a pan of scrambled eggs, lightly flavored with asiago cheese and chopped chives. She flipped the little omelet and plated it. "Want one?" she asked.

  Derick nodded, pouring them both coffee into cups he located in the cabinet. They were Polish crockery, each one uniquely painted with a floral design and a ring of blue around the center. Heather had visited Poland between college and taking over the Hummingbird, in love with the old, grand buildings and the masterful glassware and pottery she found.

  Derick smiled at her as she cracked three more eggs into the pan, and they quickly bubbled and sizzled. She dug into the bag of shredded asiago and sprinkled it on top, lightly salting, and added the rest of the chives from the nearby cutting board. He came up behind her as she folded the eggs into each other, one arm wrapped loosely around her waist as he nuzzled her neck.

  "Morning," he greeted her, voice raspy from sleep. She'd left him in her room to watch the sunrise; he'd had a long night, and been dead to the world, not even stirring when her
alarm went off. She tilted her head to kiss the dimple in his cheek as his smile widened.

  "Morning," she replied. "Can you grab another plate? They're in the cabinet to your right."

  She gestured with her spatula, and he nodded, releasing her so he could gather a second plate. They were plain and white, the fancier dishware reserved for guests and kept in the dining room in a large wooden cabinet, intricately carved into a motif of animals all chasing each other.

  Heather plated the second omelet and turned off the stove, setting the dirty dishes in the sink. She tensed when she heard, above them, a door opening, and a familiar gait coming down the stairs.

  She breathed out and turned as Rod darkened the doorway, a winning smile plastered to her face. "Hi, Daddy."

  Derick tensed as well, his eyes wide as he looked at Heather, and he cleared his throat, flushing guiltily as he turned to meet Rod's surprised stare. "Hello, Sir," he said, head ducked down, fingers flexing nervously around his plate.

  For a moment, Rod merely stared at them both, one light brow arched as though expecting Derick to disappear. He hummed, lifting his chin. "Good morning."

  "Are you hungry?" Heather offered. "I made eggs."

  "No, thank you," Rod replied. He entered the kitchen, circling the island, and Heather didn't miss how Derick moved with him, keeping it between them like he expected Rod to lunge at him with a knife. Her father poured himself some coffee into a to-go mug. "I didn't think we were expecting guests."

  "Dad, this is Derick," Heather said weakly. "I've told you about him."

  "That you have," Rod said. The two men locked eyes, though Derick couldn't hold his gaze for long. "It's nice to finally put a name to the face."

  Derick managed a thin smile. "It's an honor to make your acquaintance, Sir."

  "Likewise," Rod replied. Ever the businessman, he was unmatched in his ability to keep a straight face even when surprised. "Well, I won't keep you." He smiled at Heather and pulled her into a one-armed hug, kissing the top of her head. "I have a meeting in San Diego; I'll be out of town for the weekend."

  Heather nodded. That wasn't out of the ordinary.

  "I received a call from the captain this morning," Rod continued. "They've located the Corvette."

  "That's a relief," Heather murmured.

  "Yes. Thankfully, it seems they were waiting for a high bidder and hadn't gotten around to stripping it for parts. I'll be picking it up on my way back." Heather nodded, and in her periphery, Derick's expression was tight, his whole body braced as if for a blow. "I'll see you Monday. Be safe. Derick." He nodded to Derick and took his leave.

  Derick let out the breath he was holding, and Heather put a hand on his arm. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't realize he was home."

  Derick smiled. "It's fine," he said good-naturedly. "I'm just glad he didn't flip out on us."

  She laughed. "Rod Montgomery doesn't 'flip out' on people," she replied, gathering her coffee and eggs and taking her breakfast to the little nook in the kitchen, where a small glass table sat next to a giant bay window that provided a view of the dock and the ocean beyond it.

  "I haven't met a single father who liked finding a guy in his house in the early hours, having clearly spent the night," Derick said with a sheepish laugh, following her to the table. They sat, Heather's foot rubbing soothingly against his calf.

  "Have you met a lot of dads that way?" Heather asked, brow arching.

  Derick laughed and shook his head. "No, but Jake has. One time I had to go get him in the middle of nowhere because he'd been physically chased out of the house at gunpoint."

  Heather blinked, her eyes wide. "Where did that happen?" she asked incredulously.

  "It was ages ago," Derick said with a dismissive wave. "And it wasn't here – up north, on the Oregon border. We spent a few months there before settling here back before I realized I liked it better by the ocean." Heather smiled. "But Jake has a habit of getting in too deep with people, and, well, you know how it is."

  Heather didn't, exactly, but she could imagine. "Well, I promise you my dad is never going to pull a gun on you," she said with a laugh, tucking into her meal.

  Derick smiled, and for a while, they ate in silence. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm glad they found the car," he said quietly. "I would have killed Jimmy if something had happened to it."

  Heather nodded, humming noncommittally. "Have you spoken to him since he got arrested?"

  "No," Derick admitted. "I was going to try and visit him soon, actually." He hesitated. "Would it be okay if I went today? I'll be back as soon as I can to help at the bar."

  "Of course," Heather said. "Don't worry about it."

  "Thanks," Derick said, smiling. "I know it's stupid, and there's absolutely no reason I should even give the asshole the time of day, but…"

  "He's family," Heather finished for him. Derick met her eyes, and sighed, nodding once. "I get it."

  Derick nodded again, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. They finished their breakfast in companionable silence, and Heather drove Derick home and then headed to the Hummingbird to set up shop.

  Chapter Six

  D erick sighed, running his hands through his hair as he entered his house, kicking the door behind him. He shed his shoes and found Jake sprawled out along their shitty couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling in even breaths. He was naked, a single thin blanket draped over his lap like an afterthought. The coffee table had a collection of condoms, blunts, and empty beer bottles.

  Derick turned the lights on high and nudged Jake's outstretched foot from the armrest, harsh enough he went rolling with a groan, almost falling off the couch until his body's natural reflexes stopped him. "Had a fun night?" Derick asked, unable to keep the judgment from his voice. With Jimmy in jail, they couldn't afford shit like beer and weed.

  Jake grinned lopsidedly, smacking his lips together. He groaned, wincing, and reached for one of the beers that still had an inch remaining. He swilled it and spit it back into the neck and Derick rolled his eyes, kicking him again until Jake managed to claw his way into a semi-upright position, clutching the blanket to his lap.

  "Fun morning," Jake finally replied, head lolling like a newborn baby. He grinned. "And what about you, Romeo?"

  Derick huffed, flicking Jake's knee in answer. "I'm gonna go visit Jimmy today," he said. Jake blinked at him slowly, eyes still a little too hazy to focus. "You sober enough to brave the station?"

  "No," Jake replied. "But I'll come anyway."

  Derick nodded, nose wrinkling. "Take a shower and get dressed. You stink of grass and ass."

  Jake laughed but obediently rose, still a little unsteady. He stumbled as he approached the stairs and hesitated on the bottom step, as though he couldn't figure out how to lift his foot. Derick watched just long enough for him to manage the first one and then rose, going to their dinky little kitchenette and starting a fresh pot of cheap coffee for Jake to get at least a little sober before they left.

  Jake and Derick normally shared the guest bathroom, but since Jimmy was gone, Derick had taken to using the little en suite that was attached to Jimmy's room. Jimmy paid the majority of the bills, and he was the oldest, so he got the nicest room. It was definitely nicer than Derick's – there was actually room to walk around his bed, for starters. And it had a window and a bathroom that was large enough to hold a relatively comfortable standing shower.

  He'd showered that morning at Heather's but rinsed himself off again since he was changing into a new set of clothes. In the mirror, he saw marks on his chest from Heather's mouth and nails, and he smiled, thumbing over the one below his collarbone absently. It pulsed warmly, a gentle ache providing him incredibly vivid memories of the night before.

  He left the room, going to his bedroom and fishing out a pair of nicer jeans – lacking holes, though those were few and far between these days – and a green polo shirt. As he emerged from his room, he heard the shower stop as Jake finished up and went downstair
s to check on the coffee and pour them each a travel mug of it. Jake liked his sweet, more milk than actual coffee, so he left it half-full and sipped at his while he waited for his little brother to join him in the land of the living.

  Jake came down the stairs soon after, dressed in a polo and jeans as well. He filled his cup with milk and sugar, and they left together, driving Derick's car. The police station wasn't far away, especially from their side of town – it would have taken longer to get there from Heather's place. The station was a little gray building on the side of the highway, a modest impound lot on one side and parking for personnel and civilians on the other.

  Derick entered the automatic doors, shivering at the blast of cold air that washed over him. Jake followed, his sunglasses shielding his eyes in light of his hangover and red eyes from his lingering high, and he kept close to Derick as they approached the front desk.

  "Good afternoon," Derick greeted politely, giving the receptionist a winning smile. "I'm here to see Jimmy Saunders. He's being held here until his court date."

  The receptionist frowned at him, and then typed into her computer, lips pursed. She blinked as her screen loaded and fixed Derick with an unimpressed look. "What's your name?"

  "Derick Fischer," he replied and gestured to Jake. "This is my brother. We're Jimmy's cousins."

  "It says here on the report that you're the one who turned him in."

  Jake stiffened beside him, and Derick winced. "That's right."

  "Have a seat. I'll check if we're accepting visitors at this time," she said, gesturing to the row of chairs behind them. Derick sat obediently.

  Jake pushed his sunglasses up to fix Derick with a wide-eyed gaze as he sat beside him. "You turned Jimmy in?" he whispered.

  Derick sighed and nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. "Why?"

  "He stole that car," Derick replied. "Rod Montgomery's Corvette. I couldn't… I couldn't let him get away with that, Jake. Not anymore."