Текст книги "Vindicate"

Автор книги: Beth Yarnall

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 17 Cora

We stop at Leo’s parents’ house for him to pack a bag. I’m not excited about having a roommate, especially one who pushes all of my buttons, even the ones I didn’t know I had. I’m used to living alone. I’ve been on my own for a long time now, nearly a quarter of my life. I like being alone. Having him there is going to be awkward and weird, and I’m not sure how long I can be on my best behavior. I’m not hostessy. Jamie is the only person who has ever spent the night at my house and I’m ashamed to admit that most of those mornings I couldn’t wait for her to leave.

Leo’s parents’ house looks a lot like the house I grew up in. The neighborhood with the toys in the yards, the dads out doing whatever dads do in garages, and the occasional dog walker give me an unexpected nostalgic pang. I took it for granted that things would always stay the same and that someday I’d bring my own family back to my childhood home for a visit. I don’t imagine a converted garage apartment would have the same effect.

He opens the door and the sound hits me first. A dog barks. Female voices drift from somewhere at the back of the house and the play-by-play of a baseball game blares at us from the left. Mr. Nash sits in a recliner with a beer in hand. For a moment I tense and then I remember that not everyone drinks to forget until the blackout of oblivion turns him into someone you don’t recognize or want to know.

“Hey, Dad.”

Mr. Nash raises a hand, his concentration on the game.

“Come and meet my mom,” Leo says to me.

I don’t remember the last time I met someone’s mom.

We move into the kitchen area, where a woman lifts the lid on a pot and gives the contents a stir. Now I know where Leo got his good looks. He’s the young male version of his mother. A young woman sits at the counter bar, doing homework. The radio is on, tuned to something classical.

“Hey, Mom. This is Cora.”

Both sets of feminine eyes turn in my direction. Mrs. Nash smiles and puts the lid back on the pot.

“Cora, this is my mom, Laura. And that’s my youngest and most annoying sister, Anne.”

“Leo,” Mrs. Nash admonishes. “Don’t talk about your sister like that. Nice to meet you, Cora. Will you join us for dinner?”

Anne takes her time looking me over. “Hey,” she finally says.

“I don’t know,” I answer Mrs. Nash, because I really don’t know. I don’t know how to act or what to say or how to get Anne to stop looking at me like she’s memorizing me for a police sketch artist.

Another chick comes into the room, this one a little older than Anne. She skids to a stop when she spots me. “Oooo, Leo brought home a girrrrl.” She strings out the last word, making it sound like Leo brought home a giant cockroach or something.

“Cut it out, Mary,” Leo growls. “That’s my other sister. Feel free to ignore her.”

Mary walks right up me. “I love your hair. It totally matches your eyes. How did you get it that color?”

I touch my hair, more than a little self-conscious. “It took me a while to get the color just right. Lots of trial and error.”

“You do it yourself? Will you do mine?” Mary separates a section of her hair that falls to one side of her face. “I want a pinkish-red streak right here. I know the exact color I want. Hang on, I’ll get it and show you.” Off she goes before I can answer her.

“Mary, Cora isn’t going to do your hair,” Leo calls after her. “I’m sorry,” he says to me. “Just ignore her.”

“No, it’s okay.”

He leans in so only I can hear. “Do you mind staying for dinner? I don’t know when I’ll be back home. Family dinners are kind of a thing with my mom.”

“All right.”

Mary slides across the wood floor again like an ice skater, coming to a stop inches away from me. “Here.” She thrusts an opened lipstick in my face. “This is the color I want my hair. Think you can do it?”

“Leave her alone, Mary.”

“Easy,” I answer.

“You don’t have to do it,” Leo says.

“I want to.”

Anne’s suddenly interested in me. “You’re a hairstylist?”

“Not really.”

Mrs. Nash pats Anne’s hand. “Go tell your father dinner’s ready. You two are staying?” she asks Leo and me.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Set another place at the table, Leo. Mary, help me put the food on the table.”

We all sit down to eat. I’m between Leo and Mrs. Nash. Across from me are the two sisters, who don’t stop asking me questions about hair and beauty. Leo tries to shut them down, but I tell him it’s okay. I don’t have a sister, so I kind of like the back and forth. Plus, they don’t know anything about my life or me. They’ve probably never heard about Beau’s case. The Nash family is so normal. I forgot what normal feels like.

Mrs. Nash turns to me. “Ed tells me you and Leo are making good headway on your brother’s case.”

I glance over at Mr. Nash, who is busy talking to Leo. The girls are arguing about Anne ruining Mary’s sweater. It’s just Leo’s mom and me.

“It’s going okay,” I answer.

“I remember hearing about the murder on the news. Terrible. How is your brother doing?”

I know she’s trying to be polite and making an effort to connect with me over the only thing she knows about me, but damn. I hate it. I hate that there is nothing else to talk about.

“He’s okay.”

I’m totally aware that I’m not holding up my side of the conversation. There’s no way to end her line of questioning without being rude. I don’t want to talk about Beau. Not because I’m ashamed. It’s because he’s not here. It feels like a betrayal to chat about him and his life with a stranger like you’d talk about traffic or the weather.

“It must be rough on your parents. I can’t imagine what they’re going through.”

She means well, I remind myself, even as she drifts past empathy and straight into sympathy.

“And you too,” she adds.

I’m an afterthought, a pitiful afterthought. She feels sorry for my family and me. Of all the emotions people have about what happened to Beau, pity is the one I can’t stomach.

I slide back in my chair. “Where’s the restroom?”

She blinks at me, then points. “Down the hall. Third door on the right.”

“Thank you.”

I’m out of my chair and halfway down the hall before the tears start. Once closed inside and alone, blessedly alone, I take big gulps of air, trying to calm myself. This is why I don’t do social situations. I don’t know how to field the inevitable questions and the myriad emotions people want to throw at me as though I’m a universal catchall for whatever opinion they have about the case. They don’t care about me. Their only concern is having their viewpoint heard. I’ll take a nosy reporter asking questions over people telling me what they think any day.

I stay in the bathroom as long as I dare without drawing attention. When I return to the table, the conversation seems to have turned to something Anne learned in school that day. I resume my seat at the table and paste on a smile, pretending that I’m as normal as everyone else here.

Leo leans toward me. “You okay?”

I nod. His gaze lingers on me as I somehow manage to show the proper response to the story Anne is telling. He takes my hand under the table. I squeeze it hard enough to earn a startled glance. The rest of the meal goes by without incident and I’m starting to relax again when Mrs. Nash asks me another question.

“Do you get to see your brother often?”

The whole table waits for my answer. The girls’ faces reflect identical curiosity. I don’t know if it’s because of the question or my potential answer.

“As often as I can,” I answer.

“It’s getting late,” Leo says, pushing his chair away from the table. “I should pack so we can get going.” He still has ahold of my hand.

I do as he did and stand with him. Everyone’s eyes go to our clasped hands. I don’t care. It was this tie to Leo that helped me get through what should’ve been an easy task. Mr. Nash looks like he wants to say something. The girls glance back and forth at each other. Mrs. Nash’s smile looks strained, as though she’s been holding it too long.

“Thank you for dinner,” I tell Mrs. Nash, even though I mostly just picked at it.

“You’re welcome.” Then, to her husband, “Ed.” As though he should do something.

Mr. Nash lays his napkin on the table, saying nothing as we head to Leo’s bedroom. This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered someone who can’t separate me from Beau’s case. I’m a curiosity up to the point where they realize I’m a person who could possibly invade and influence their child’s life.

Leo closes the door and puts his arms around me. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s…what it is.” I push out of his arms and wander around the room.

There are trophies on shelves—baseball trophies. Clothes are scattered across the floor as though they were dropped where he stood. A big TV hangs on the wall with wires coming out of it. Video-game controllers are stacked on top of the dresser under the TV. In the corner is a desk with more trophies and ribbons. It looks and smells like Beau’s room used to.

“It’ll just take me a sec to pack,” Leo says.

I sit on the corner of his unmade bed and watch as he stuffs a gym bag with clean clothes from the dresser and dirty clothes from the floor. He’s such a guy. He goes to get more stuff from the bathroom, leaving the door open slightly. Mrs. Nash says something to him, her voice hushed. I don’t hear Leo’s answer. Mr. Nash replies, his tone soothing, but Mrs. Nash is having none of it. She doesn’t like me or who she thinks I am. That’s fine. I don’t need to be liked. I also don’t have to sit here and listen to them argue about Leo staying at my place.

I peek down the hall, but I don’t see them. Their voices are louder now. Leo is madder than I’ve ever heard him. He’s defending me. I get a quick rush of happiness over that, but it’s instantly doused by what Mr. Nash says. He doesn’t want Leo to get involved with me. I’ve got issues. Issues he doesn’t want in his son’s life. That’s fine too, because involved is more than I want or need right now.

I head out to the front of the house. I’ve heard enough. The girls are watching TV, so they don’t notice me walking out the front door. I’m in my car and backing out of the driveway when Leo comes outside. He runs up to my car and bangs on the window.

“Open the door.” He’s got his bag over his shoulder.

I roll the window down. “Running away from home?”

He reaches in and unlocks the door. Before I can say or do anything else, he’s climbing in. “You were going to leave without me.”

I can tell this shocks him. What did he expect?

He closes the door, but I don’t drive away. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Going with you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You heard.”

“Don’t tell me to ignore them, because I can’t. I won’t.”

“I don’t care what they say.” He puts his hand on my cheek and leans across the console. “I only care that you’re okay.”

When he’s close like this I forget why things could never work out between us. His scent wraps around me in the small space. I breathe him in and it’s like he’s a part of me. The stroke of his thumb across my cheek echoes in other parts of my body and I feel myself leaning in to him like a flower seeking the sun. I don’t want any of this and yet it’s all I want. I want him in and around and on top of me. I want to not be able to tell where he begins and I end. It’s a winding, twisting sort of sensation that blankets my senses. I become a solid mass of need. My body wants something that I don’t quite understand.

“What do you want from me?” I ask, because I have to know if he understands this any more than I do.

He watches me in the dying summer light. His expression is as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “Don’t you know?”

“No.” How in the hell should I know?

“God, Cora.” His voice is a sigh that arrows straight through me, fanning out into tiny prickles of pleasure and pain.

His mouth is unexpectedly urgent and hot on mine. He pours every intangible thing between us into this kiss. I grab at him, holding on, a willing receptor for everything he has to show me. The more I know of him the more I want to know. His hands roam free over my body. It’s like he’s suddenly let loose, pushing past whatever barriers were there before. He grabs my ass and pulls me tight against him. The console digs into my side, but still I try to get closer, needing something only he can give.

He breaks the kiss as abruptly as he started it. “Get us out of here.”

I shift into gear and hit the gas as he collapses back into his seat. I’m alive everywhere. My nipples are hard, poking against the lace cups of my bra. I can still feel the brand of his big hand on the right one. The throbbing between my legs makes it difficult to drive. Every movement of my feet on the pedals creates friction and it’s all I can do not to shove my hand down my pants and finish what he started. He showed me more than I wanted to know and yet not enough.

He rolls the window down and sticks his head out. He mumbles something that sounds like “I can smell you,” but I’m not totally sure what that means or if I heard him right.

I look over at him. He faces away, his hair blowing back in the breeze. His mouth is a flat, grim line. In another glance I can clearly see his erection pressing against his zipper. I want to reach over and touch it. What would it feel like? What would he do if I did?

Chapter 18 Leo

I want her so badly it scares the shit out of me. If I hadn’t stopped, we might be fucking right now, right in front of my parents’ house for the whole neighborhood to see. My balls ache and my dick feels like it’s going to explode. I don’t even know how long I’d last with her. Seconds, maybe. If I was lucky. Just thinking about the sound she made when I touched her breast—like she’d been waiting forever for me to do it—makes it hard to think about anything except being inside her. Right now.

Her ass is firm and lush, making me think of bending her over a bed, a chair, a table, just about any-fucking-where, and driving into her from behind. I force myself to sing “Take Me out to the Ballgame” in my head. It’s just about the least sexy thing I can think of at the moment. I’m on the third round and I’ve got things pretty much under control when she pulls up in front of her garage apartment.

And then my brain leaps ahead to being alone with her in a place with a bed and a chair and a table…

“What’s going to happen when we go inside?” She sounds expectant yet nervous.

I have to remind myself that she’s not that experienced. I don’t know how inexperienced she is or if that’s what’s holding me back. She’s so damn beautiful I want to touch her to make sure she’s really real. I’m unsure with her in a way I’ve never been before. My brain is telling me to take things slow while everything else inside me screams to hit it full-throttle.

“What do you want to happen?” My voice comes out calmer and cooler than I feel.

Her gaze drops to my lap. “I want to touch you.”

I suck in some spit and start coughing. I’m not fucking calm or cool.

She pounds on my back as I try to wheeze in enough air to breathe again. She catches me off guard at every turn. She can touch any part of me she wants any way she wants. I tell her this and her eyes widen. She gets out of the car without another word and strides up the path to her door. I grab my bag and catch up to her.

She puts out an arm, blocking me from moving past her. With a finger she pushes on her front door. It swings open freely. Son of a bitch. The place is a mess.

“Who would do this? Oliver!”

I grab her arm. “Don’t go in. They still might be in there.”

“Oliver!”

I pull her away from the door and punch 911 into my cell. “Let’s go back to the car.”

“The cat. Where’s Oliver?”

“We’ll find him.” My chest is pounding for a whole different reason now. Cora could’ve been home alone when that asshole broke in.

I give Cora’s address to the dispatcher. While we wait for the police, I help her look for the cat. She’s frantic to find him and at times I worry she’s close to tears. I spot a flash of orange under a bush and creep toward it. “Here, cat.” Crouching down, I see that it is the cat. He lets me pick him up.

“Oh, my God. Thank you.” She scoops the cat out of my arms and hugs him.

An unmarked cop car comes to a halt behind Cora’s.

“You should put him in your car,” I tell her. “So he doesn’t run off again.”

While she takes care of the cat, I go to talk to the officer.

“Someone broke into her apartment,” I tell him.

“Did you go in?”

“No.”

A patrol cruiser pulls up. The two cops confer and then they head for Cora’s apartment, their hands on the butts of their guns. I join Cora at her car and put an arm around her. We watch as the police go in. A few moments later they come back out and head for us.

The big one with black hair speaks first. “Looks like someone was looking for something. Can’t tell if anything was stolen or not. You want to come inside and have a look?”

Cora nods and we follow them into the apartment. It’s a god-awful mess. Worse than my bedroom. If someone was looking for something, it’s likely they found it. Cora takes in the destruction in silence. I put a hand on her shoulder and give it a little squeeze.

“The TV’s still here,” the shorter cop says. “Is anything missing?”

She takes a slow tour of the apartment, picking her way over the debris at her feet. Every drawer, closet, and shelf was cleared and everything is on the floor. Most of it’s broken, either on purpose or when it hit the tile. She’s doing a good job of keeping it together. I wonder how long that will last.

“It’s hard to tell one hundred percent,” she says. “But I don’t think anything’s missing.”

“Do you have an idea who would do this? An ex-boyfriend?” Big Cop glances at me. “A disgruntled coworker or ex-friend?”

“No.”

“We can have a crime-scene crew come over and dust for prints, but if nothing’s been stolen there’s not much of a case here.” Big Cop shrugs. “Just vandalism.”

“We’ll write a report if you want it for your insurance,” Small Cop says.

“No. That’s okay,” Cora answers.

“You have a place to stay until that lock gets fixed?” Big Cop asks.

“I…I don’t know. My landlord is out of town.”

I put my arm across her shoulders. “She’ll be fine. I’ll take care of it.”

“Here’s my card.” Small Cop scribbles something on it and hands it to Cora. “That’s the case number. The report will be available in a few days. Call us again if you have any more trouble.”

“Will do,” I say.

Big Cop’s gaze roams the room for a moment, then he follows the other officer out.

“I can see if I can rig the door to stay closed.” I examine the frame. It’s trashed. Someone kicked the door in. Hard.

“There’s a shed on the back of the new garage. There’ll be some tools in there.” She pulls her key ring from her pocket and selects a key. “Here’s the key.”

She’s eerily calm. Neither of us have to say it to know who did this and why.

“Are you okay?”

She nods.

“Why don’t you come with me to find those tools?”

“No, I have to clean up.”

“Cora.” I take her arm, keeping her from bending down to pick something up. “You don’t have to do this right now.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to stay and I can’t stay here with it like this.”

“We’re not staying here tonight.”

“Where else am I going to go?” I. Not we.

“We’ll get a hotel room or something.”

Her laugh is harsh and bitter. “I can’t afford a hotel room. I have to pay to get the door fixed. I don’t have a job right now, remember?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry about it. Wouldn’t you worry about it?”

Yeah, yeah, I would. “I don’t mean it like that. Hey, you’ve got me. Let me help you.”

She looks me over, then pulls her arm free. “I’ve got to get this place cleaned up.” She rights a chair, her hands shaky, her lip trembling. “Why don’t you go get those tools?”

She wants to get rid of me. It’s not going to be that easy. But I let it go for now. “I’ll be right back.”

I head out to go around to the back of the building. I get two steps out the door and I hear her breath hitch on a sob. It tears through me, stopping me in my tracks. She didn’t want me to see her lose it. I want to punch something. Or someone. That asshole who did this to her. What was he looking for? Did he find it or will he be back?

She lets out a low moan and sniffs. My hands curl into fists. I want to go back inside, but I know that’s the last thing she wants right now. Some time goes by and then I hear her moving around the apartment. I continue on to the shed and unlock it. There’s some wood I can use to temporarily fix the door frame, but the lock is probably shot. She’ll need a new one. Tomorrow. Tonight I’ll rig it so that no one can get in and I’ll take her somewhere. I don’t know where. Somewhere safe.

By the time I get back, Cora’s cleared some floor space. I get to work on the door, doing my best to temporarily repair what I can. It’s full dark when I finish and Cora is sweeping up the broken pieces of her things, which look like confetti scattered across the tile.

“Pack some clothes,” I tell her. “We’re not staying here tonight.”

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“My friend Mike’s down in Mexico for a couple weeks. I know where the key is to his place. We’ll stay there for a few days until all this gets sorted out.”

“We can’t just break in.”

“We’re not. I called him when I was in the shed. He’s cool with it. Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m sure the cat wants out of the car.”

“All right.”

She packs more for the cat than she does for herself, and then we’re in the car and I’m giving her directions to my friend’s place.

“It’s on Coronado Island?” She gives me a worried glance.

“Yeah.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m making you drive across the bridge for no reason.”

“Smartass.”

We pull up to the house and she just stares at it. It’s a nice house. Okay, it’s more than a nice house. It’s a mini-mansion on the beach.

“You have a friend who lives here?” She sounds like she doesn’t believe me.

“Yup.” I climb out of the car and look for the brick. Ah, there. I push on it and out slides another brick farther down with a dent carved into it just big enough for a key. I retrieve it and show it to her. “See.” I unlock the door and flip the lights on, then reset the alarm.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” I take her bag and head down the hall.

She follows with the cat carrier. “Are you sure it’s okay to have Oliver here? This doesn’t look like a house for pets.”

“He has three cats that are being boarded while he’s out of town. Relax. He knows about your cat. It’s cool,” I say again to reassure her. I open a door off the hall. “You can put him in here.” It’s like a feline Disneyland with a bunch of those tiered, carpeted cat climbers and trails built into the walls. “There’s already a litter box.” I point to a house-looking thing in the corner. “And automated food and water machines. He’ll be fine.”

She sets the carrier down and opens the door. The cat steps out carefully, sniffing.

“See,” I say. “Come on.”

We back out of the room. She follows me down the hall to the spare room, her eyes wide.

I open the bedroom door and give her a moment to soak it in. This side of the house faces the beach. The moon is big and low, reflecting off the water. The rhythmic roar of the waves is a little louder in this room.

“There’s only this bedroom and the master,” I tell her. “You can have it. I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room.”

“No.” She grabs my arm. “I don’t feel like being alone.”

“Okay.” It feels wrong to be glad about this turn of events.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to stay here?”

“Totally okay.”

She goes to the window. “It’s so dark out there.”

I move in behind her and put my arms around her. “There’s a full moon.”

“It would be even darker without it.”

“Are you afraid of the dark, Bluebird?”

“No, of course not. I’m just not used to looking out the window and not seeing another house or a street.”

“There are none of those on the ocean.”

“What if I’d been there when he broke in?”

“I think he waited until he knew you wouldn’t be home. He was looking for something. But what?”

“I don’t know. All of my files are at the agency.” She turns in my arms. “What if he breaks in there next?”

“The place is alarmed. Dad would know it the minute he did.” Which reminds me…“I should call my dad and let him know what happened at your place.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, okay. Are you hungry? I think there might be some—”

Bringing my head down to hers, she cuts me off with a kiss. For a second I’m too shocked to move, and then it’s like we picked up where we left off in the car. The full length of her presses against me. Her hands are all over me, under my shirt, over my shirt, on my ass. I struggle to hold back. The last thing she needs is me ripping at her clothes. But she’s grinding against me and I forget why I should go slowly. I work a hand into her shirt to unhook her bra.

I’m practically fucking her mouth with mine. She’s making these little moaning sounds that drive me insane. I finally work the last hook of her bra and her breasts tumble into my hands. More than a handful. Rolling her nipples between my fingers, I lick my way across her jaw to her ear. She puts a hand on my dick and my eyes nearly roll back into my head.

“I want you,” I whisper, and bite her earlobe.

She has both hands on the front of my pants now, working the button. She struggles for a second and I’m about to help her when she finally frees the button and goes for the zipper. She pushes at my pants. I’d help her, but I’ve got my hands full of her tits. She moves her head to the side, exposing her neck. I take advantage, nipping my way down.

“Oh.” Her surprise jolts me out of my haze and I realize she’s checking out my dick.

Experimentally, she runs her thumb across the tip. It slides in my pre-cum, which seems to delight her, so she does it again and again. I groan. Her fascination with it is killing me. She wraps both her hands around my dick and gives it a squeeze. I put my hand over hers and show her how to stroke me. She picks up my rhythm. I’m dying. She’s torturing me.

I pull on her shirt. She lets go long enough for me to draw it and her bra off at the same time. I shuck my shirt and toss it aside. We’re way past going slow. Putting her hands on my chest, she moves them across my shoulders, down my arms, then back again. Her expression is a mixture of fascination and curiosity. I stand still for her. Her hands continue their movement across my pecs and over my abs. I want to touch her, but I don’t want her to stop touching me. So I look instead.

I imagined Cora naked so many times. I wasn’t even close. She’s beautiful. Gorgeous. Perfect in every way. She has her hands on my dick again. It’s sweet torture. Bending down, she licks it. She’s playing, testing. I lay my hand on her back, encouraging her. I watch as she takes me all the way into her mouth. Moving my hand to her head, I gently coax her, letting her know what I like. She seems to understand, picking up the movement.

“No teeth,” I grit out.

She adjusts. For sure I’m dying now. It’s like the first time I ever got head, and I can’t stop the pressure that’s building fast, too fast. If she doesn’t stop…I lift her chin and her mouth slides off with a pop.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I tell her. “God, no. You did it too right. Come here.”

I hold her. Her breasts feel amazing against me. I want to make this good for her. I want to make her as crazy for me as I am for her. I want to hear her scream my name as she digs her heels into my ass. But first I want to make sure this is what she wants.

“Are you sure about this, Bluebird?”

She nods against my chest, her hair tickling. “Are you?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Okay, then.”

She steps back. While I watch, she takes her jeans off and then she’s standing there in nothing but a little scrap of white cotton. I want to touch her, but can hardly move. She hooks her thumbs in her panties and then they’re gone too. My heart is beating so hard and fast I can hear it over the sound of the ocean. I shuck my underwear and jeans in record time. Her gaze is everywhere. I stand still for her inspection. My dick is so hard it hurts.

I feel like she needs this, this moment to pause. She could back out at any moment. I don’t want to give her a chance to. There’s so much to her I feel like it will take me years to learn it all. But if I only get this night, this one moment, with her it would be more than I ever thought I could have. With everything in me I hope she feels the same. I want to be everything she needs me to be, everything she ever imagined.