Текст книги "Heated"

Автор книги: J. Kenner

Соавторы: J. Kenner
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Chapter Twenty-Two

“Self-defense, Detective,” I said. “Mr. Sharp had told Mr. Franklin that he had evidence that Franklin had sexually harassed an employee. Franklin attacked, and Sharp defended himself.”

“And you saw that?”

“I did. I’m not telling you how to do your job, but if it was my case, I’d just have everyone walk away.”

The memory played in my head, over and over like a broken record, blocking out everything else.

“You did the right thing,” Tyler said as we stepped inside his suite at The Drake.

They were the first words we’d spoken since leaving the benefit, and they sounded far away. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

“He files charges for assault, and the only way to defend is to drag Lizzy into this mess,” he said as he headed into the living room. “Would you want that for her?”

“You didn’t have to pound his face in,” I said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that he attacked an innocent girl who’d already suffered enough.”

“Yes, I know. Of course.” I drew in a breath. “But, Tyler, there are laws against rape, even attempted rape. Lizzy could testify. Bring assault charges, attempted rape.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he said. “A former stripper crying rape? What cop would believe her?”

“I would,” I said, and I saw the flicker of warmth in his eyes.

“Fair enough,” Tyler said. “But even if the DA did believe her, he’d get a slap on the wrist and no cage time, and we both know it. Justice doesn’t always go hand in hand with the law.”

I shook my head, knowing I needed to just drop this. That it was becoming too damn personal. “That doesn’t mean you can take it into your own hands.”

“Why not?”

I just looked at him, willing myself to stay silent.

“I’m serious,” he repeated. “Why not?”

“Because you can’t,” I snapped. “There are rules. There are codes.” I thought of my mother. Of my stepfather. And in my mind, I heard the sharp crack of a shotgun.

I shivered, turning away from Tyler. “Don’t you get it? There’s an entire foundation built around those rules and codes, that makes us civilized.”

He came to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “That foundation is full of cracks, and you know it.”

I shrugged him off, took two steps forward. “Yeah? Well, it’s not your job to fill them.”

“Christ, Sloane, listen to yourself. You’re a cop for Christ’s sake.”

I whipped around, spitting out my words as the memories pummeled me. “You think that because I’m a cop I don’t know about crossing the line? That I don’t know about getting dirty? About paying a price?”

I held my hands out in front of me, my breath hitching because I knew that they were covered in blood. “I killed him,” I yelled. “I killed my own stepfather, you son of a bitch, and I pay the price every goddamn day.”

I gasped the moment the words were out of my mouth, a sharp sound, like I was trying to suck them back in. But they weren’t coming back. Instead, they seemed to hang in the air between us.

I stood frozen, staring at him, expecting to see shock, revulsion, even surprise.

I saw none of that.

“Oh, god,” I said, collapsing to the floor. “You knew.” My voice was dull. Pained. “I’ve never told that to anyone. I don’t know why I told it to you. How did you know?”

He was on the floor, holding me, stroking me, making soft soothing noises. And I realized I wasn’t entirely sure when he’d done that. “Because I see you,” he said simply. What I heard was, because I love you.

I blinked, and tears spilled from my cheeks.

“You mess me up, Tyler.”

“Yes, well, the feeling is mutual.” He pressed a kiss to my head. “Will you tell me what happened?”

I didn’t want to go back, but at the same time I wanted him to know. Wanted to share the horror with someone who knew me. Someone I trusted. So I drew in a breath, and started slowly. “You know some of it,” I said. “It was like living a nightmare. He beat her. He raped her. He was a monster.”

I drew in a breath, clutching his hand tight. “When I was fifteen, he tried to rape me. He was drunk, and I fought him off, but I was done with him. I was so very done.”

“What did you do?”

“My dad’s a cop, and even though my parents had been divorced for forever, we’re close. So I knew things about evidence. And I knew things about my dad. Like the fact that he had a crappy old shotgun in his garage. It used to be his father’s, and it was a filthy mess. My dad wasn’t a hunter, but he wasn’t going to get rid of a gun. It just stayed there in the garage, unloaded, tucked in behind the spare fridge.”

“You took it.”

“Took it, cleaned it. Left it there until the night I’d picked, then I spent the night at a friend’s house—to this day my friend thinks I left her place to sleep with Tommy Marquette—and drove to my dad’s. He was working nights, so it was easy to get in the garage, get the gun, and get out.”

I drew in a breath, trying to push away the visual memories. “It was summer, and Harvey always slept with the light on. He was punishing my mother for something—I don’t remember what—and had her locked in the bathroom. So I just got myself set up outside the window as far away as I trusted my aim. There was a rock wall, and I used it to keep the gun steady. I watched, got him in the sights. And then I pulled the trigger. After that, I tossed the gun in the lake and went back my friend’s house.”

“And it was easy,” Tyler said.

I nodded. “It was.”

“That’s because it was justice.”

I shook my head. “No. No, I snapped, and I took it too far. Justice would have been him in a cage for the rest of his life. It wasn’t my right to take him out.” I looked at him, held his eyes so that maybe he would understand. “That made me the same as him.”

“The hell it did. You protected yourself. You protected your mother. The police had already failed you. What the hell else were you supposed to do?”

“You asked me once why I became a cop. Harvey Grier is one of those reasons. It’s like redemption. It’s like a second chance.”

He shook his head. “No. No, you’re wrong. You think you crossed a line, but you didn’t. He was vile. He was a monster. There’s nothing wrong with killing a monster.”

He took my hands and held the tight. “You did the right thing. Back then to protect yourself. Even tonight to protect me. You’re one hell of a cop. And I promise you that justice is safe in your hands.”

I managed a thin smile. “That’s a nice compliment,” I said, “coming from a criminal mastermind.”

“I’m squeaky clean,” he countered with a grin.

I stroked his cheek, suddenly extraordinarily tired. “I wish I could believe that,” I said. “Because that’s the fundamental gap between us. And there’s nowhere we can go from here.”

“Bullshit,” he said, then kissed me so deeply I thought I might drown in it. “I already told you. I get what I want. And I don’t do things halfway. You’re already mine, Sloane. The rest is just making the pieces fit together.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Warm hands stroked my back, easing me out of sleep.

I started to turn over, but Tyler whispered in my ear. “No. Close your eyes and drift. I have to get up early for meetings. But you’re too tempting to pass up. Just stay there.”

I did, moaning as his hands gently spread my legs, then explored me fully. Soft, feather touches. Gentle kisses. Caresses designed to soothe, not tease.

Gently, he stroked my sex until I was wet and ready. I made a small sound of pleasure, my hips moving in anticipation even though I liked this treat, this morning wake-up call.

Then he was over me, his hands spreading me so his cock could slip inside me. He thrust rhythmically, and I could sense his climax coming.

Each thrust moved me against the sheet, sending soft strokes over my clit, teasing and firing my body so that I bumped close against the chasm, but never quite reached that edge.

Tyler leaned forward then, grabbing my shoulders as he levered himself deeper and then, with a low moan of male satisfaction, exploded inside me before lowering himself to the bed, his arm and leg draped over me.

“I couldn’t resist your temptation,” he said, when I turned my head to smile at him. “Turn over and let me touch you. I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

I shook my head. “No, I like it. Still sleepy and aroused. I’m going to go back to sleep and dream of you.”

His brow lifted and he bent down to kiss me. “In that case,” he said, “have very sweet dreams.”

I drifted off to the sound of the shower. And lost myself in those sweet dreams until fingers of sunlight sneaked into the room to tickle my nose. I sat up slowly, feeling gloriously used, then laughed when I saw the Hershey’s Kiss that Tyler had left on the pillow beside me.

I knew that he had a full plate today, and so we had planned to meet at Destiny after my shift. Now, I stretched in bed, feeling warm and happy and feminine.

Last night had been both good and bad, but in the end, I couldn’t deny that I felt closer now to Tyler than I’d ever felt to anyone. And when we’d gone to sleep, my exhaustion so overwhelming that he’d carried me to bed, then spooned against me, his strong arms holding me close and keeping me safe.

It had felt romantic and sensual.

It had felt like love.

I stretched across the bed to grab my phone, pleased to see I didn’t have to rush. I slid out of bed, then decided to forego the fluffy Drake robe for one of Tyler’s button-down shirts. Foolish perhaps, but I liked being wrapped in his scent.

I found frozen waffles in the freezer and popped one in, then sat down at the kitchen table with the paper Tyler had left there. But I couldn’t concentrate on the news. Last night was too fresh in my mind, and my thoughts were a jumble.

Squeaky clean.

That’s what he said, and I desperately wished it was true. Hoped it was true. I could imagine a life with Tyler, though I told myself not to think like that.

Thinking like that only led to disappointment.

Still, there was no denying that we fit together in so many ways. And now—now that he knew about my stepfather, I had no more secrets from him.

It felt good. It felt honest.

The waffle popped and I pulled it out of the toaster with two fingers, then searched the fridge for syrup. When I didn’t find any, I settled on peanut butter. I slathered it on thick, then took a bite, remembering the look in his eyes when I’d blurted out my secret.

He’d known. I still didn’t understand how, but I guess what he said was true—he really did see me.

I took another bite, only this time it felt too thick to swallow. I spit it out into a napkin, then went to the sink. I turned on the faucet and just stood there, looking at the water draining away.

He’d known.

True, we had a connection—there was no denying that.

But still, he’d known. And in such a short time.

If he’d known after only a few days and even fewer facts, then how the hell could my father have missed the truth?

Unless he hadn’t missed the truth.

I stumbled back to the table and fell into the chair, the thought enough to make me go limp.

Did he know?

I licked my lips and, before I could talk myself out of it, picked up my phone.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey there, daughter o’ mine. How’s the hip?”

“It has a hole in it,” I said. “Otherwise it’s fine.”

“Funny girl. What’s up?”

“I—Daddy, I wanted to ask you something.”

“All right,” he said, his voice softer now. “Go ahead.”

“It’s … about when I was a kid. Living with Mom. Did you know—” I sucked in a breath. “Daddy, Grier abused her.”

He was silent a long moment. When he spoke, his voice sounded far away and very sad. “I realized that later.”

“I should have told you. Maybe it would have helped.”

“No—no, sweetheart. You were a kid. You were living in hell and doing your best. You did just fine.”

“He was a monster,” I said. “I wanted him dead every single day.”

“I bet you did.”

“And then—and then someone killed him.”

“Yes, they did,” he said, and I knew—because I knew his voice, just like he knew me. My father had held my secret, too.

“Sloane?”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“It’s like I always say—justice wins out.”

“Did it, Daddy?”

“You bet it did, sweetheart.”

When I hung up, I realized I was crying, but I was smiling, too. And for the first time in a long time, I let the weight of my secret drop away.

I wanted Tyler, but he was off at meetings, and so I did the next best thing. I got dressed, got in my car, and headed to Destiny.

I would be early, but I didn’t care. I could mingle with the customers, maybe see if there were any more who knew Amy.

I frowned, realizing I hadn’t asked my dad about the run on her license. Then again, it hadn’t been that long, and I knew he’d call if and when he got something.

I did, however, want to give Candy an update to let her know I had even more confirmation that Amy had skipped to Vegas. I put the phone on speaker and dialed her number as I maneuvered onto the highway to head toward Destiny.

“I was going to call you today,” she said, right off the bat. “Guess who called me last night?”

“Amy,” I said.

“Yes! She sounded terrible, but she said she’s doing great—she did meet a guy, so we were right about that. She’d lost her phone. I almost just deleted the voicemail—I figured it was a wrong number—and she said not to worry about her.”

“How did she sound bad?”

“Just tired,” Candy said. “I tried to call back on the number, but it said it wasn’t working. Not sure what’s up with that. I wanted to tell her to chill. And to lay off the guy if he was wiping her out so much. Anyway, it’s good news, huh?”

“The best.”

“She said she’d be here for the baby. Well, she said next month, but I’m sure she meant next week. If not, I’ll chew her ass out for being late.”

“I bet you will.”

I hung up, smiling at the relief in Candy’s voice. I thought of Sapphire, and her frustration at not knowing what had happened to Emily, and her impression that the police weren’t doing enough.

I could hardly help on the investigation, but maybe I could help gather some facts. I scrolled through my contacts and put a call in to Detective Louis Carson, one of the Chicago homicide detectives I’d called to ask about Tyler and the guys when I’d first rolled into town.

“Hey Watson,” he said. “You still in our fair city?”

“I am,” I said. “And I have a favor.” I told him about Emily and about wanting to help Sapphire and asked him if there was anything more I could pass on to her.

“I know a bit about that case,” he said. “I can give you some info, but you need to keep it to yourself. Chief wanted a tight wrap on this case, and he hasn’t yet authorized release of the details. Should be soon, though, and you can tell your girl.”

“I’ll keep quiet until you say,” I promised, then listened as he told me about how she’d been found in an abandoned warehouse—that was public knowledge—and that she’d been the victim of torture.

“Not sexual, as far as we can tell. But starved and beaten. Some sick fuck did a number on her.”

“Shit.”

“I know. We’re hoping we don’t have a serial killer on our hands.”

“Anything useful from forensics?”

“Adhesive residue and POE oil,” he said, spelling out the last for me. “That’s the angle we’re working now, but both are pretty damn common.”

I thanked him and we chatted some more until I hit my exit, then I said goodbye and pulled into the Starbucks that was just a few doors down the street. I’d done the same the last two times I’d come, and when the barista knew I wanted a venti nonfat latte before I even asked, I realized I was feeling like a regular.

I bought a scone for later and took it and my coffee back to the car, then continued on to the club. I was about to pull behind the building to park when I saw the back door open and Tyler step out—and Michelle was with him.

I pulled over and watched as they got into Tyler’s Buick and pulled out onto the road. And then, though I felt prickles of guilt for doing it, I followed them.

Despite what I knew about Michelle, I wasn’t expecting them to lead me to a love nest. On the contrary, because of what I knew about Michelle—including Tyler’s comment that first day in his office that he wanted to use her for some project—I had a feeling I was about to see the kind of thing I really didn’t want to see—proof that Tyler Sharp wasn’t anywhere close to squeaky clean.

The thought almost made me turn back around.

But I couldn’t. I needed to keep going. I needed to see.

They pulled up at The Drake, and as I took a spot on the opposite side of the street, the valet opened the car for Michelle. She got out, looking classy in a red business suit with a straight skirt. I waited for Tyler to get out, but he continued on, pulling back into traffic.

I frowned, and was about to follow, when I noticed the white van two spots in front of me with a BAS sticker in the back window.

Okay, then.

Apparently I’d stumbled on a BAS Security operation. And I figured I might as well pop in and see what they were up to.

I was about to get out of the car to do just that when my phone rang, the caller ID showing that it was Kevin. I considered ignoring the call, but succumbed to curiosity and answered.

“I keep hoping to hear from you.”

“Kevin, I told you. You’re chasing rainbows. These are good guys. Trust me.”

“No,” Kevin said. “It’s there. Those three don’t operate clean. Everything they touch snakes back to dirty. Smuggling, forgery, extortion, you name it. Did you know they supposedly run a private security company? But I’ll be damned if that’s not just a front for them to gather intel.”

I glanced out my window at the BAS van and frowned. “Jesus, Kevin. Do you have even a shred of evidence that isn’t completely circumstantial?”

“I know what I know,” Kevin said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t.” I ended the call, too frustrated and distracted to let it linger.

Once again, I glanced over toward The Drake, and then to the van in front of me.

I thought of Tyler and hoped I hadn’t been a fool to let him shatter my walls and slide in through the cracks. But even as I hoped, I couldn’t forget what Kevin had said—everything they touch snakes back to dirty.

And I couldn’t help but think that Tyler had touched me.

I’d told Kevin the absolute truth—I had nothing on these men. But while that was true, it wasn’t the whole truth.

The whole truth was that I hadn’t looked because, dammit, I was afraid of what I might see. And if I saw, would I lie? As I’d lied last night to the detective?

Shit. Who was I?

I’d been closing my eyes where before I would have been poking a flashlight into shadows.

That had to stop now. If for no other reason than I was falling in love with Tyler. And I had to know if the man I loved was dirty.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I got out of the car and marched to the van. I drew in a breath, grabbed the sliding door handle, and tugged.

Inside, Cole whipped around to look at me, then slammed his palm down on a console, making a row of five video monitors go to black.

But it didn’t matter—I’d already seen. Michelle, in full dominatrix regalia, holding a whip over a man I recognized from the Chicago papers. Alderman Brian Bentley, decked out in a ballgag and cuffs.

“Sloane, wait—”

I slammed the door, cutting off Cole’s plea. Then I ran for my car. I heard the van open, heard him call for me again. I didn’t care. I started the car, slid into traffic, and floored it.

I cranked the music up loud, and hoped that the beat would drown out my thoughts, but it wasn’t working. My thoughts were filled with Kevin’s accusations and with the images I’d seen in that van. Extortion, I assumed. Bribery. What had Evan called it? A protection plan?

God. What they hell were they into?

And what the hell was I doing?

A year ago, a month ago, hell, a week ago, I’d be calling the local PD. Now I wasn’t sure what to do.

I was twisted around because of love—but didn’t that make me as guilty as they were?

I didn’t know. All I knew was that Tyler filled my head, bigger and bolder than even the music my dad sent me.

Tyler, who had held me, teased me, touched me, fucked me. Whose heart had beat in time with mine.

I thought about his humor. About his compassion.

I drove on auto-pilot, my thoughts churning wildly, and it wasn’t until my dad’s music was looping for the fourth time that I tuned in to where I was—which was no longer in Illinois. I’d not only crossed the line into Wisconsin, but had just hit the Kenosha city limits.

I may have been on auto-pilot, but my subconscious had definitely had a plan all along.

I’d only been to the Victorian style house on Fifth Street once before, but it wasn’t any trouble finding it. The lawn had been a mess the last time I was there, but now it was neat and tidy, with colorful flowers in pretty clay pots. The dingy paint had been spruced up, at least on the street-facing side. I saw buckets and two ladders around the side of the house, and assumed I was facing a work-in-progress.

I pulled up in front, killed the engine, and sat there for a while, debating. I could go in … or I could turn around and drive the hour and a half back to Chicago.

I decided to go in.

The house was quiet, and I saw no sign of life as I walked to the front door. I wasn’t sure if I should be annoyed I’d come so far for no reason, or relieved.

I rang the bell, got no immediate response, and rang again. A good three minutes passed, still with no answer, and I finally decided that all I’d gotten out of this day was a relaxing drive and too much thinking.

I turned to go—and heard the lock click behind me.

I turned around, and found myself staring into the hangdog face of Oscar Hernandez.

He wore a coffee-stained undershirt and flannel pajama pants that had seen better days. Sleep creases lined his face, criss-crossing under his puffy eyes.

“Gee, Lieutenant,” I said. “You’re taking this retirement thing seriously.”

“Watson?” His red eyes crinkled in delight as a wide smile split his face. “Goddammit, Detective, what in the name of the devil’s younger daughter are you doing here?”

“Guess I got a little lost.”

He cocked his head, and I saw the sharp mind behind the bloodshot eyes. “You’re not talking about streets and maps.”

“Guess not.” I lifted a shoulder. “Needed a beer. Figured this was the place to find one.”

“Damn right it is,” he said. “Or it was last night. Wife’s back home with Joey,” he said, referring to their oldest daughter. “Had some of the guys over.”

“A calm night of cigars and literary discussions?”

“Fuck that. We got pissed and talked about our misspent youth. Get your tiny ass in here,” he said, stepping back and holding the door open wide.

I followed him into the kitchen, then hung back as he opened the fridge and stared inside. “I got Heineken and Heineken. Might have some flavored vodka in the freezer. Wife likes that whipped cream stuff.”

“I’ll take Heineken,” I said. “And if you’ve got a bag of potato chips hiding around here somewhere, I’ll love you forever.”

“After what we’ve been through, you should love me anyway.” But he crossed to the pantry and came out with a bag of Lay’s and a bag of Ruffles.

“You’re a good man, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

Fifteen minutes later we were sitting on the back porch steps, breathing in the summer air and looking out at the water. I’d never seen my partner as the Mr. Fix-it type, but I had to admit that for a house like this—big and sprawling with a huge backyard, trees, and a view of the lake—maybe being domesticated would be worth it.

“You gonna tell me what’s on your mind? Cause as much as I enjoy your company, I don’t think you drove all this way just for beer and chips.”

“It’s really good beer,” I said, and clinked bottles with him. “But no. Honestly, I’m not sure why I came. The car sort of drove itself.”

“All the way from Indiana? You must really be going out of your mind on this medical leave.”

“Chicago,” I said, and that was as good a lead-in as any. I gave him the basic rundown, leaving out the more titillating details. If we ended up going there, I’d need more than one beer in my system.

“Last time I looked, kid, you didn’t have a Chicago badge.”

I eyed him sideways. “So?”

“So whatever these guys are up to doesn’t have anything to do with finding your missing friend, right?”

“Right.”

“And the girl was the reason you went to Chicago.”

“Yes.”

“So leave it alone.”

I blinked. “Leave it alone?”

“Jesus, Watson, you live and breathe this job more than anyone I know. You don’t have to right every wrong, you know. So unless those guys are killing folks in Indiana, their crimes and misdemeanors aren’t your problem.”

“Even if I’m banging one of them?”

He drew in a loud, noisy breath. “Well, shit, Watson. Now I’m gonna have that in my head all day.”

I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. “I’m all twisted up, Oscar.”

“Aw, shit. Aw, hell.” His big hand came down on my back and rubbed. “You’ll get untwisted.”

“How?”

“No idea.”

I laughed. “You’re a big help.”

“Okay, try this. The heart knows what the heart knows.”

I turned to him. “That’s some flowery shit coming from you.”

“Courtesy of the wife. It’s what she used to tell me whenever Joey dragged home some yahoo I didn’t like the looks of. Like the idiot banker who followed her home one day like some determined puppy.”

“What’s it mean?”

“I think it means if you fall, you’re fucked. So you might as well enjoy yourself.”

“You know, that’s not bad advice, actually.”

“That’s me, always dispensing the knowledge. You want to hang around? Meredith’ll be home in time for dinner.”

“Nah. I should get back. But thanks.” I stood up, then considered him. “What happened with the idiot banker?”

“Turned out not to be such an idiot after all. Gave me three of the most precious grandkids on the planet.” He stood, too, then walked me around the house to my car. “You take care of that hip. And if this guys sticks, you bring him around. If there’s a man out there can trip you up, I want to meet him.”