by Jen Talty
He lowered his head, holding her hand, making sure she continued to indulge herself. He blew gently and slowly. Her stomach quivered. He darted his tongue out and immediately her body rocked and bucked violently. She pulled his head up and closed her legs tight, her fingers still inside. Her body still convulsing.
“Why do you close your legs when you come?” he asked between gentle kisses as he made his way up her body.
“I have no idea,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”
He wasn’t about to disappoint. He kissed her lips, rolling to his back, pulling her on top of him. She smiled as she lowered herself onto him. Her insides gripped his hard shaft. He had one hand on her breast, pinching and plucking at her hard nipple, while he tried to control her fury as she ground herself against him, up and down and left to right. He sat up to take her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as she moved faster over him.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly, digging his fingers into her ass as he exploded. He moved his thumb to where their bodies were joined, and rubbed gently until her body jerked, and she let out a soft moan as she managed to squeeze her warmth tighter.
He pulled her to his chest. Her blond hair flowed all around him. He caressed her back and ass with his fingers as her chest surged against his. It took a while for them to catch their breath. When they had, he rolled her gently to her side, keeping her close with one arm around her as he pulled the blanket across their drenched bodies. If there was a heaven, this would be it.
“I’ve never made love to anyone like that before,” she said, her arm tight around his middle.
“Like what?”
“Talking. Looking. Telling you what I like. What I want.”
“And did you like it?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever been talkative either.” There wasn’t anything he couldn’t share with this woman. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. He just hoped he’d be able to give her everything she wanted. She deserved the world.
“I want to please you. I want to know what you like,” she said.
“I like watching you come. It’s a power thing.”
She laughed. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Right before, your stomach muscles twitch and your thighs tighten, pulling your legs a little higher and wider. Your eyes roll back and you make this noise that literally could make me come just listening to it.”
“I doubt that,” she said.
“Next time, we stay in my room.”
“Why?”
“Look at my feet.”
They were resting on top of the footboard.
“Sleep on your side.” She snuggled back against him as he rolled to his side, tucking his knees behind hers, wrapping his arm around her. “I’m not going to lock you in and drive away.”
“And you’re not going to jail.”
11
Stacey woke by herself to find a note in her bed. The note was scribbled in colored pencil on a sticky note placed on the empty pillow.
I’ll be back.
That was it.
The clock on her nightstand told her it was seven in the morning. Doug usually left for work by seven-thirty, so she figured his note meant later tonight, but she had wanted to say good morning.
Doug had left his shirt behind, so she opted to put it on with a pair of leggings. She laughed as the shirt fell to the middle of her thighs. As she hobbled down the stairs, she heard her father’s voice. It sounded like it was coming from the office, and he was barking instructions to someone. He always yelled when he was on the phone. She decided on coffee before poking the bear.
Jillian had perched herself at the kitchen table with her laptop, her head down, fingers resting on the keyboard, her eyeglasses slipping down her nose.
“Good morning,” Stacey said.
Jillian jumped a little. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Didn’t mean to startle you. Did you eat? I think I’m going to make eggs.”
“I’m good, thanks. There is fresh coffee.”
“Wonderful.” Stacey poured herself a cup, then turned on the stove. While she cooked her eggs, she enjoyed the normalness of it all. “Where’s Doug?”
“I think, loading up the truck with stuff.”
“Can I ask you something?” Stacey asked as whisked her eggs.
“Sure.”
“What’s your story?” Stacey knew it was blunt, perhaps even a little too direct. While she liked Jillian—a lot—there was a lot she didn’t know about her, and being the nosy person she was, it seemed appropriate to ask.
Jillian closed her laptop, taking her glasses off, folding them, then placed them neatly on the table. “I’m forty-eight, so I’m a few years older than your dad. I got married when I was nineteen. Had my daughter at twenty. Got divorced when I was twenty-one, and crawled home with my tail between my legs, begging my parents to help me go back to school.”
“You dropped out because of your daughter?”
“I dropped out to work while my husband went to college. Of course, the marriage lasted long enough for him to finish community college while I worked as a secretary at a law office. So, I was broke, and my ex-husband wasn’t interested in helping out, other than child support.”
“I take it your parents helped.”
Jillian nodded. “Not without a million conditions, but I made it through law school. My daughter and I moved out of the family home and into an apartment in downtown Saratoga. My ex was—is—a good father. He lives in Saratoga. We’re sort of friends. Made the best of a bad situation. My daughter is a bit of a free spirit, traveling the world, nothing like myself or her father.”
“What does she do?” Stacey poured the barely scrambled eggs into the frying pan. It sizzled, and since she had a tendency to put the burners too hot, they cooked quickly.
“Volunteers for everything. Finds jobs doing this or that. She comes back to the States every couple of years for a couple of months, regroups, and off she goes again.”
Stacey placed her plate on the table then scarfed down her eggs. She hadn’t realized how hungry she had been. “Where do you live now?”
“The same apartment. I never saw any reason to leave it, as I spend a lot of time working.”
“Why?”
“It’s my life,” Jillian said. “Especially after my daughter started her adventures. It’s all I know.”
“Men?”
“Too busy raising my daughter,” Jillian said with a smile that oozed confidence. It was refreshing to be with a woman who wasn’t offended when you asked a simple question because they were involved with someone you loved. “And making a name for myself as a criminal attorney.”
“Are you close with your daughter?”
“A different kind of close than you and Jim, but yes. We talk often. I take a trip every year to some exotic, or not-so-exotic, place to see her.”
“That sounds cool,” Stacey said. “What will your daughter think about you and my dad?”
“Oh, she reacted pretty much the same way you have, except she doesn’t have a Doug to kick her under the table before the words actually fly from her mouth. I think her exact words were, ‘Mom scored.’”
“Sounds like someone I’d like.” Stacey watched Jillian clear the table and pour more coffee. The woman had grace and style, but was also down-to-earth. Upfront and honest. Traits Stacey valued in any person. Also, very nonjudgmental. “I think you’re good for my dad.”
Jillian sat across from Stacey again, then lowered her head briefly before lifting it and making eye contact. “He’s a very special man. I care very deeply for him. I just wish he hadn’t insisted we be so secretive about our relationship.”
“It’s who he is,” Stacey said. “Which brings up an interesting problem, if they somehow gather enough evidence to bring my dad into the mix.”
“Because then I’d be sleeping with my client.”
Stacey nodded. “Let’s mak
e sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Tell me what you know about Bill,” Jillian asked.
“Next to nothing. I’ve only met him a couple of times, and those were awkward moments.”
“It’s weird. I know Bill. Not well. We’re both defense attorneys, so we traveled in the same circle. He does mostly white-collar stuff. I do—well, this kind of stuff.”
“We’re going to have to talk about that when this over,” Stacey interjected. “I mean, I work for the other team.”
“Not really.”
“Do you know how many defense attorneys got a guilty client off because of a technicality?”
“Yes. I’m looking for that technicality right now to help clear an innocent guy. Or girl.” Jillian lowered he head, giving Stacey a pretty good rendition of her father’s arched brow.
“We’ll talk later about that.” Stacey waved her hand dismissively.
“Tell me why you didn’t like Mary.” Jillian had the ability to change topics easily and fluidly. Another quality Stacey appreciated.
“She used people to get ahead. She went from one man to the next. She was involved with someone when she first started dating Doug. He didn’t know until she was pregnant.”
“Was he sure the baby was his?”
Stacey nodded. “She’d called it off with the other guy a month into the relationship with Doug. Doug only found out because someone made a comment about it at a party or something.”
“I’ve got to get ready to head to the office. Were you able to make plans with your friend Taylor?”
“Yep,” Stacey said. “All set.”
“Before I forget, Sergeant Prichard is being questioned this morning.”
“I heard.”
“They are also interviewing the entire team today.”
“I know,” Stacey said. “But that’s the one thing I’m not worried about.”
“This file”—Jillian pushed a folder across the table—“has everything we know right now. Take it with you. Add to it as the day goes on. We’ll regroup tonight.” Jillian disappeared into the family room.
Stacey flipped open the file then started reading. The case was so thin that if she were working it, she’d be looking elsewhere, but Gregory had his sights set on Doug and wanted her badge.
The back door flung open, letting in a burst of cool air. It had been so warm, the briskness made her shudder.
Or maybe it was the man who pushed open the door, holding a large box in his arms, his biceps bulging with power. He smiled instantly as they locked gazes. “You snore,” he said playfully.
She shrugged, waggling her finger at him in a come-hither fashion.
The box thudded against the floor. He sat in the chair next to her, his fingers tapping on her thighs. “Nice shirt,” he whispered.
Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck as he tilted her chin with his thumb and kissed her. It was filled with the promise of what could be. What should be.
“Get my note?” he asked.
“Very cute.”
“I thought so,” he said. “My room tonight.”
“Hmmmm,” she teased. “My room, if you want to get laid.”
He groaned. “You are a very bad… What’s this?” He picked up the folder she’d been reading.
“Jillian’s notes.” Stacey studied Doug as he thumbed through some of it.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think Gregory is a moron.”
“You have a biased opinion.” He pressed his lips against hers, parting them with his tongue. She slid her hands behind his neck and around his shoulders as the kiss deepened, until she heard her father clear his throat. Doug dropped his head on her shoulder, keeping his hands firmly planted on her hips. “Truck’s loaded and ready to go,” Doug said.
Stacey ran her hands up and down Doug’s back, feeling the knots and tension from the week’s events. She dug her fingers in, working them out.
“We have a different problem,” Jim said.
Stacey felt as though she should push Doug away. That this somehow made her father more uncomfortable than her snide remarks, but all that vanished when her father waltzed by, giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.
“What’s the problem?” Doug asked as he leaned in closer, shifting so she’d hit all the right spots.
Jillian entered the kitchen, placing her overnight bag near the door before settling back down in her chair.
“Doug was right—” Jim began.
“I’m always right,” Doug said, “but what am I right about this time?”
“That we need to cut down that tree outside my office,” Jim said. “Branch came down, cracked the glass, and it must have rattled hard enough to break the lock.”
“I love that tree,” Stacey said. “Remember the tire swing?”
“You’re not talking him into just trimming it again,” Doug said. “It ruins the view from that room, anyway.”
“I called the tree guy. Will be here next week. But that slider has to be special ordered, and I can’t get one for three weeks. For now, I was able to dummy the lock. It will hold till tonight.” Her father nudged Doug on the shoulder. “Time to go to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
Stacey released Doug, but looked up at her father and smiled. His mouth turned slightly upward, a good sign he was getting used to the changes around here. This was how life should be, and she was going to make sure Gregory had someone else to set his sights on if she had to deliver the killer to him herself.
Stacey drove with Reese to the National Bank main branch in downtown Albany. The fifteen-story building took up a corner block. She used to come down here with her father when she was little and he had business at the bank. They’d make a day of it. He’d take her to a little hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon for breakfast after he’d done his business, then they’d walk around Washington Park. They would then end the day in Saratoga at her favorite ice cream shop. The last time she’d made this trip with her father was probably ten years ago, since a branch opened much closer to home.
Reese had been lucky and found a parking spot on the street. Only two-hour parking, but she suspected they wouldn’t be there long. At least, she hoped it wouldn’t be long.
Gregory stood in front of the entrance with two detectives from Albany City Police, since he was out of his jurisdiction.
It was ten to nine. When Gregory saw Stacey and Reese walking across the street, his face turned red. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I’ve got banking business.” Reese leaned against the side of the building, arms folded across his chest, calm and relaxed, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“That’s convenient,” Gregory said, “but I was asking her.”
She held up an envelope. “My father’s bank, as well, and this is time-sensitive material for his business.”
“There’s a branch in Glens Falls. I’m sure all of that could have been handled there.”
“But that branch doesn’t have his business account manager, which is who these need to go to.” She smiled sweetly. She didn’t think his face could get any redder, but it did.
“Get in my way, and I will arrest you.”
“Um, I don’t think so,” Reese said. “You’re quite a distance from Warren County.”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Gregory puffed out his chest. The man was always in a pissing match.
“My wife says I have an off-color sense of humor.”
“She shouldn’t be here, and you know it.” Gregory turned his back, and Stacey waited patiently two paces behind him. She just wanted him to know she was there, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The bank doors opened promptly at nine. Stacey made a beeline for the courtesy desk. The papers could have been mailed, but it made sense at least to look as though she had a real reason to be at the bank. The person behind the desk ushered Stacey to an office where she said a quick hello, dropped the papers off, a
nd then made her way back to where Reese sat in the lobby. He was reading a magazine, looking around, acting casual.
“Do you have any banking to do?” She sat next to him.
“Deposited a check. Was the first in line,” he said. “The bank manager was waiting for Gregory. I suspect they’ll be coming out pretty soon.”
“Wonder what it could be.” Stacey had been racking her brain, not only about what was in the box, but about what would make Mary worry about her own well-being enough to send such a cryptic note to her sister. Stacey didn’t know what the note said, or what evidence had been taken from it. Jared did, and all he had to say was, ‘Let the system work.’ That was even more frustrating because Jared had that serious look on his face. The one that told her she’d better figure this out before something bad happened.
“Looks like we’re about to—”
“Is that a ream of copy paper in that evidence bag?” She stood, trying to get a better look as Gregory stomped toward her.
“Good golly, Sutten, I think you’re right,” Reese said.
“Either a dead end...” Gregory began. He stood about three paces from Stacey, his face still red, but his eyes showing a new sense of concern. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “…or the box was tampered with.”
She thought about that for a moment, wondering how the killer would know to look there. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I know what I’m doing.” Gregory leaned in. “Watch and learn, Rookie.”
“I’m certainly learning what not to do,” she muttered.
“We will need to subpoena the surveillance camera in the bank and on the sidewalk,” Gregory said.
Stacey’s mind was going a mile a minute. She hated that Gregory knew more than she did. “Tell me something. Was the letter from Mary to her sister authenticated? Prints? What, exactly, did it say?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.” Gregory looked around as a few people passed by. “But something tells me you know. I bet when we get the video footage we see you, or maybe that boyfriend of yours, enter this—”
“Or maybe you’ll see Bill enter the bank,” Stacey said, tired of Gregory’s insinuations. “He is still missing, and don’t you think that’s something of a coincidence? I mean, a woman murdered, her boyfriend missing. Pretty classic.”