Deceiver Page 12

  “A choir?” he asks casually.

  “Yeah. Sort of.”

  “You mean glee club. Right?”

  I plant myself on the floor beside him and look at him as I bite my lip. “That’s the name of the group, yes. The Southern Ladies’ Glee Club. Why?”

  He picks up his beer and takes a deep draw, swallowing and then shaking his head. “Just a big coincidence, is all.”

  “What is?” I flutter my lashes innocently, counting on my sweet countenance to sway him.

  “That you know one of my suspects in the Hines case.”

  “What do you mean? Who?” My mind flashes back to a recent conversation, when he said “You get a sense about these things.” That sandwich is now sitting heavy on my stomach.

  “Billie Shaw.”

  “Billie?” I widen my eyes and let my mouth gape a little. Easy on the theatrics, Candy. You’re no Faye Dunaway. “You can’t be serious, Dan?”

  He studies me with sharp, intelligent eyes, and my insides quiver. Don’t break!

  “She’s on my list,” he says finally before taking another swig from his bottle. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?”

  “Because I had no idea she was a suspect,” I lie. “You said there were multiple attackers and that someone beat his head in with a club or something.”

  “A fifty-pound weight.”

  “Well, there you go.” I throw my hands in the air as if he just sealed my case. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I just can’t see Billie doing that. First of all, she might seem tough on the outside, but she’s really sweet once you get to know her. And, secondly, she—”

  “I know,” he interrupts. “She’s not nearly big enough to take down a man with a fifty-pound weight. Actually, I don’t think she could even lift that kind of weight, much less brain him with it.”

  I nod. “Right. So, then why is she a suspect even?”

  “Like I said, there were multiple attackers, multiple shooters, and even she’s big enough to pull a trigger.”

  “So you think Billie is part of a criminal enterprise or something?” I know I’m being ridiculous.

  “Well, it’s not unimaginable. Her boyfriend is high up on my list of local thugs and he’s definitely capable of beating someone’s head in with a weight.”

  “Adam?”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “You know him, too?”

  Oh, shit. “I don’t know him, know him, but I’ve met him. He’s Billie’s boyfriend. Are you telling me that he’s a suspect, too?”

  “No. He has an airtight alibi,” he says, obviously irritated by the fact. “You should stay away from him, though,” he warns. “Her, too, for that matter.”

  “Billie is a good friend of mine, Dan, and we sing together, too. She’s totally dedicated to the glee club, and I promise you…” I lay my hand on his leg and look him in the eye. “The only organization she is involved with is the SLGC, and our biggest crime is singing. Billie would never harm an innocent person. This I can swear to.” Because it’s true, there is nothing reflected in my eyes but honesty and sincerity.

  His countenance finally softens a little. “Okay. So, she has an alibi and a great character witness. I hate that case,” he mumbles, finishing off his beer and pounding the empty bottle on the table.

  I think I’ve convinced him. Thank the Lord! I stand up and begin clearing away the empty wrappers, bottles and trash from the table.

  “You don’t need to do that,” he says, pushing his hand up the inside of my thigh. “I pay someone to come in once a week and clean for me. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “Oh, really? That must be nice,” I tease, finally figuring out how he keeps such an immaculate house.

  “It is. The exciting life of a busy bachelor, you know.”

  “Well, I don’t mind doing it. It’s second nature for me.” I stand still, fidgeting slightly as his fingers crawl upward to my bare pussy, tickling my lips as they glide back and forth. I take a deep breath. “Okay. Let me just throw this away. It’ll only take a minute and then, we can relax.”

  “Can you stay?”

  “All night?”

  “Yes. All night. What time do you need to be at work in the morning?”

  “Um… eight.” I stuff the wrappers down into the empty bag. Why shouldn’t I stay the night? Josh is almost grown, a senior in high school who turns eighteen in just a few months. He stays out with his friends, and girlfriends, too, I’m sure, all the time.

  “That’s perfect. I need to be at work by seven. We’ll just leave a little early, and I’ll drop you back by your house.” He grins like a naughty boy as he pushes a finger inside me, wetting it and dragging it over my clit. “Say yes.”

  I tremble and close my eyes, thinking of reasons and justifying it to myself, not the least of which being that he’s tired, and I don’t want to make him get up and drive me home. Besides, I want to spend the night in his arms. “Yes,” I whisper. “Let me text Josh and let him know.”

  He smiles, satisfied, and drags his wet fingers back down my leg. “How upset will he be?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never done it before. I guess we’ll see.”

  I scurry away into the kitchen and throw the trash in the bin. Then, I walk back to my purse and fish out my phone once again. I know I should call him and not just send a text. But I’m a coward. So, I start a new message.

  “Had a few drinks and it’s getting late. Going to just crash here tonight. I’ll be home early in the morning. Love you!”

  There. Maybe he will just accept that and not try to give me the third degree. Suddenly, I’m not so sure I like living with two detectives. I start to walk away, and my phone chirps. Oh, crap.

  “Where is ‘here’? I can come and get you.”

  I chew on my lip, trying to decide the best way to handle this. I text back.

  “Here is at Dan’s. No need to pick me up. Will see you bright and early tomorrow. Love, Mom.”

  Why do I feel so guilty? Is this child abuse or poor parenting? Stop it! I can see I need to get firm with myself. After all, my happiness counts, too. Doesn’t it?

  I return to the living room and sit down next to Dan on the sofa. He’s watching the news so I burrow up under his arm. Nothing that feels this good can be bad. This much, I’m sure of.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” I smile reassuringly, though I’m not sure if it’s for his benefit or mine.

  He wraps his arm around my shoulder, picking absently at a stray lock of hair. “Have I told you how sexy you are wearing my shirt?”

  “I believe you mentioned it.” I trace my finger up his thigh, stopping just short of his zipper.

  “It’s getting late. Shall we retire?”

  I fake-yawn. “Yeah, I’m exhausted. I might just pass out.” I grin, teasing.

  He stands up and, leaning over, hoists me into his arms as I screech, giggling.

  “Well, you can certainly try.” He laughs.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I wake up to the sound of the shower, stretching and smiling, reveling in the delicious soreness between my legs. It’s still dark in the bedroom, so I don’t panic. Rolling out of bed, I grab Dan’s shirt off the floor and shrug it over my shoulders. I pad over and put my hand on the doorknob of the bathroom. Should I do this?

  I nod bravely. Hell, yeah.

  I push the door open a crack and pop my head inside. Then, I tiptoe toward the shower while shedding Dan’s shirt once again, letting it fall into a puddle on the floor. I pull back the shower curtain and step inside. His back is to me as he vigorously scrubs his face directly beneath the hot, streaming water.

  I try not to laugh as I inch up behind him and snake my arms around his waist.

  “Ack!” he shouts, jumping about three feet off the floor and flinging a bar of soap in the air.

  He scares me to death, so, naturally, I jump and shriek, as well. The fresh bar of soap lands directly on my little toe. Thus, I ju
mp around and curse some more.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” I hop up and down with my foot in my hand.

  “Oh, shit. Baby. I’m so sorry.” He pulls me to him. “You startled me.”

  “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” I laugh. “In retrospect, probably not a good idea to sneak up on a cop.”

  He chuckles. “Fortunately, I don’t carry my sidearm into the shower. Oh, and good morning, I guess.”

  “Good morning.” I tilt my face to look up at him. Even wet, the man is still fuck-a-liciously beautiful.

  “Well, I think we’re both awake now.” He leans down and picks up the bar of soap. “Here, stand under the water for a minute.”

  He grabs my waist and walks me around in a circle so that I’m standing beneath the shower.

  “Ahh. That feels good.” I close my eyes and lean my head back, running my fingers through my hair. Then, I feel a soft, soapy cloth sliding slowly across my breasts. My brow furrows as I peek at him. He looks very intent on his task.

  “Mm,” he moans as he pushes the soapy cloth all around. Finally, he studies me with approving eyes, satisfied. “Turn around and let me get your back.”

  Well, if it gets his motor running, why not? I turn around and let the hot water rinse away the soapy suds on my breasts and stomach. He scrubs diligently at my back, taking the same sweet care that he did with my front. And slowly, the soft, soapy cloth dives deeper until, finally, he’s pretty much waxing my ass.

  He drops the cloth to the floor of the shower, replacing it with his hands as he slides them back and forth. Then, he slips his hand between my cheeks, gliding it up and down my crack farther and farther until his fingertips brush against my anxious clit.

  “Oh, baby,” he whispers as he steps into me, poking me in the ass with what I assume is his morning tribute. His cock now replaces his hand, sliding between my cheeks and skimming across my pussy as he leans into me, cupping my breasts in his hands and pinching and rolling my nipples.

  I reach forward, allowing him full access as I brace myself against the shower wall, suddenly praying that he enters the right hole. He places his hand on my lower back as he guides himself into me with the other. Fortunately, he chooses the right one.

  “Ah,” he breathes sharply, moving his large, firm hands to my hips and gripping me tightly.

  Then, slowly, he sinks into me, fully and totally, stepping closer into me, and grinding and pushing in a circular motion.

  My muscles tense and then turn to jelly. It’s never felt so good. I’ve never felt this full, this exposed, this blissful.

  “Oh!” I shout as he hits a spot, a virgin spot, the spot, and I nearly orgasm.

  He stops. “Did I hurt you?”

  No! I shake my head vehemently, unsure whether my voice will actually work. “No! Don’t stop,” I beg.

  He starts again, grinding and pushing in that circular motion, and I moan as the feeling builds.

  “Yes. That. Please,” I mewl, afraid he might stop again.

  He pulls out and then pushes into me again until he has a slow, steady rhythm, but I start to lose my orgasm.

  “Faster,” I plead. “Harder.”

  He pushes against my foot with his, sliding my legs further apart. Then, he adjusts his grasp on my hips, and he begins to pound, hard and fast. The sound of his hips slapping against my wet ass, the water spraying from the shower head, and his deep, primal breaths fill my ears as he drives hard against that spot, over and over. The orgasm slams into me and blasts everything else out of my mind.

  I cry out as the bliss overtakes me, a thick shroud of pleasure that sharpens my senses and dulls my brain, and I shout and moan, unsure what garbled nonsense comes out, mixed with pleas and curses. I think I scream his name. His name? My name? Rufus’ name? The only thing I know for sure is the heaven between my legs as I contract and convulse around him.

  “Fuck,” he shouts, driving into me so hard, my feet lift off the floor. He groans as if he’s dying. Then, I feel him. Oh, yes, I feel him. He slides his arms across my stomach, lifting my ass as he pushes and pulls, grinding against it, spasming and groaning through his gritted teeth.

  Then, slowly, he releases his grip around my stomach, lowering my feet back to the floor as he pulls out of me. I stand up, using the wall to steady myself.

  “My God, baby.” He kisses my back. “I think you almost killed me.”

  “Me?” I turn around to face him. “What did you do?”

  He looks confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, how did you—? What did you—?” I give up and shake my head. “I’ve never had anyone quite do that to me before.”

  “What?” He smiles proudly, even though he has no idea what I’m talking about.

  “I’ve always heard about that ‘spot’. Honestly, I thought it was a myth until now.”

  He beams as he flexes his hips into the warm spray of water, giving his cock a quick wipe with his hand. I wonder briefly if he’s trying to high-five it.

  “So, I’m the only one who knows where your ‘spot’ is, then. Eh?”

  “Apparently so. I think I almost fainted.” I giggle as I reach for the shampoo.

  He steps out, his chest puffed out, as I lather up my hair. A minute later, as I begin to rinse, he pops his head back in.

  “Let me try it again,” he pleads, a look of honest determination on his face.

  “What? Right now?”

  “We have time.” He grins boyishly.

  “No, we don’t. We’ll be late for work.”

  He nods, defeated. “You’re right. I don’t want you to be late. Or you may not come again.”

  “Oh, I’ll come again.” I smile wickedly, stepping out of the shower as he hands me a towel. “I’m sure of that.”

  We pull into my drive at exactly seven o’clock. I have my things already gathered in my hands by the time we come to a full stop.

  “I made you late,” I say apologetically.

  “They’ll live. It was totally worth it.” He grins as he leans over and gives me a soft, gentle kiss. “Not to push my luck, but any chance of seeing you tonight?”

  “After practice?”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I’ll let you come home and get some rest. I’m sure Josh would probably like to see his mother, too.”

  “He’s at the age where he thinks he doesn’t need a mother anymore.” I roll my eyes.

  “That’s because he wasn’t afraid before that he was going to lose her to a grouchy old shit like me.”

  “I guarantee you, he could care less.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Dan nods toward the front window where Josh is standing, staring out at us with a murderous look on his face.

  “Oh, my.” I giggle. “I might be in trouble.”

  Dan reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it, and his cool, blue stare makes my heart flutter.

  “I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Good.” I lean forward and give him a quick, chaste kiss.

  “Don’t get me in even more trouble now.” He laughs.

  I open the door and step out. “He’ll live. It was totally worth it.” I wink.

  Then, with a wave, I close the door and trudge up the drive.

  “Well, good morning, stranger!” I try to sound chipper and upbeat when I step into the kitchen with Josh.

  “Good morning,” he replies rather coolly.

  I reach into the cabinet and then pour myself a cup of coffee.

  “So, was that him?”

  “Well, if by him, you mean Dan, then yes. That was him.”

  “Do you have to go to work?”

  I pour some creamer in my coffee and stir. “Yes.”

  “You’re late.”

  “How do you know?” I look at him incredulously. He has never kept up with my schedule. Can he really be acting this childish? Well, I guess he is still sort of a child. My child, anyway. “Josh, I’m not late. I don’t have to be there until eight, but I do need to go throw m
y scrubs on real quick. Or I really will be late.”

  I grab my cup and head out of the kitchen. Josh follows me.

  “Have you talked to Dad?”

  I stop dead in my tracks and turn to look at him. “No. Why?”

  “He came over here to see you yesterday.”

  “Yes, I know. Mrs. Gilmore was kind enough to tell me. What did he want?”

  He’s sullen for a moment, like he’s trying to decide whether to tell me something. “He broke up with Tammy.”

  “So?” I wait for the rest of the sentence.

  “So, nothing. He wants to come home.”

  The steaming hot cup of coffee slides through my fingers and crashes to the floor, spraying coffee all over both of us as well as everything else within a three-foot radius.

  “Fuck!” I shout as my pants boil against my leg.

  “Nice, Mom,” Josh quips.

  I’m not sure whether he’s referring to the coffee or the expletive.

  “Josh…” I bite my lip, fighting back the wave of angry words ready to roll out of my mouth. “Just go to school.”

  “Whatever,” he spouts and stomps away.

  “Grrr!” Growling, I bend down and pick up the pieces of my favorite mug.

  After scrubbing all the coffee off the sofa, the rug, the wall, the table and the floor, and peeling off my coffee-soaked pants, I jump into my scrubs and haul ass to the hospital. Somehow, I manage to get here only fifteen minutes late, but, of course, I run head-first into Nurse Hatchet as I step off the elevator. Needless to say, this is not a happy, fortuitous moment. After a full five-minute lecture on the importance of punctuality, she makes me inventory the entire stockroom by myself.

  “Five-hundred-fifty-seven aspirin,” I mumble as I fill out the inventory sheet.

  There! Finally done. I glance at the clock on the back wall, and my stomach growls. I’m starving. I gather all the sheets together and attach them to my clipboard while strolling back toward the nurses’ station.

  Suddenly, blue lights flash in the corners of every corridor. “Oh, no.” My heart sinks. “Mr. Donovan!”

  I race down the hallway, streaking past several patients and visitors, catching up with and passing all the attendants heading to Mr. Donovan’s room. I burst through the doors of Room 303, panting. Nurse Hatchet and Nurse Crossland stand beside the bed, along with Dr. Carter. They stare at him as his heart obviously fails.