Diner Impossible, page 18
“Molly? I know she has an eating disorder.”
He shrugged. “Heard she’s been to psychiatric facilities for something.”
“What about Julia Baxter and Judge Keeler?”
“He hooked up with Julia just months after his wife’s funeral. Some say they were actually an item long before his wife died. Julia’s smart and cunning, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“If she’s so smart, why hasn’t she married him? Wouldn’t a gold digger lock the judge down with a ring?
“Maybe she wants to try and convince everyone she’s not on the make?” Dane asked.
That could be it. Or maybe she was terrified that her true identity would be uncovered. What would her country club friends think if they knew she had a criminal background and an ex who was in prison? Probably wouldn’t be good for her business prospects, let alone her social life. She could kiss Junior League and the Historical Society goodbye.
“I hear Keeler, Ashby, and Mathers are very good friends,” I said. “Like the three amigos.”
Dane pulled away. His gaze ran over my features. “Who are you getting all this info from?”
“I can’t reveal my sources. And when Martin doesn’t want a criminal to go to trial, Ashby complies.”
Dane’s brow furrowed. “Have you been talking to Andre Thomas?” he asked.
“Hardass? Hardly.” I tried to make it sound like the lamest idea he’d had all day. “I’ve been poking around, asking questions. People like to talk, Dane.”
His narrowed eyes led me to believe he wasn’t completely convinced.
“I know about Captain Charles Bentley,” I said. “Everyone’s talking about it.” And by everyone, I meant Officer Andre, of course. “Was Delia involved in getting him fired?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but Mathers was. Bentley was dropped from the force after twenty-something years. Supposedly, he’d been taking bribes. At least that’s the way I heard it. He was gone before I returned to Huntingford. I just picked up tidbits. Surely you don’t suspect him of murdering Delia?”
“Not really.” Not with stage four lung cancer, anyway.
“Mathers retained my boss as his attorney. Just talking to you like this could get me fired.”
I patted his knee. “You’re a pal.”
“Yeah, I’m a pal.” Dane leaned close enough that his breath ruffled the hair near my ear. “Now it’s your turn to answer a few of my questions. Why are you still dating Sullivan? You know what he is.”
I chewed my bottom lip and thought about how I should answer. Although I wasn’t thrilled with Sullivan’s illegal endeavors, they didn’t bother me as much as they used to. I was becoming hardened to the realities of his life and business. And I’d learned that sometimes, playing the wrong side of legal was damn convenient.
But I didn’t feel like talking about my very personal feelings for Sullivan. So I planted a smile on my face. “We’re just hanging out. I like him.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“Not to me. Just how corrupt is Martin Mathers anyway?”
With a sigh, Dane gestured to the waiter and ordered himself another drink. I shook my head and waved off more wine.
Dane couldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know, so eventually we sat back and enjoyed a few more songs.
Before I made tracks home, I decided to stop by the restroom. Dane waited at the entrance while I walked past the bar and hooked a right, darting down a narrow hallway. I reached for the bathroom door at the same moment a hand clamped on my arm. Gazing up in surprise, I looked into David Ashby’s blue eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
“I need to talk to you,” he said. “Come with me.”
He began yanking me toward the emergency exit at the end of the hall, but I jerked away. “Are you following me?”
He glanced over his shoulder, making sure we were still alone. “Please. I need to speak with you.”
I had questions for him, too. And if he tried anything, there was a club full of people just a few feet away. With a nod, I motioned for him to lead the way. I darted outside after him into the cold night air. Rain sputtered from the sky, making me damp, but not dripping. We stood directly beneath a spotlight attached to the roof’s soffit. The yellow glow made a halo around Ashby’s golden head.
“Why are you following me?” I asked.
“Why were you at the pub with Martin the other night?” he countered.
“None of your business.”
“Does Sullivan know? Are you sleeping with Martin?” My fingers twitched to wipe the smirk off his face. “He’s going to kick your little butt to the curb for cheating on him.”
I crossed my arms. “Really? You know Sullivan that well, huh? Let me ask you the same thing. What will Charlotte say when she finds out you were boning Delia?”
He lost the smirk. “She’s never going to find out. Is that clear? So you and Mathers, were you two talking about me?”
Someone was paranoid. “Your name might have come up.” I watched to see if he squirmed, but he held steady. “Why were you meeting Mathers that night?”
His facial muscles tightened slightly before he paced away. Sullivan said that was Ashby’s tell. “We just met for a drink.” He was totally bluffing.
“Not buying it. Try again, David. And this time, give me something plausible. Or I will tell Charlotte about your affair.”
He faced me. “My wife is very…she couldn’t handle finding out about an affair. It would devastate her.”
“Then maybe you should keep your dick in your pants. Because your wife’s devastation is really not my problem.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine,” he spat out. “Martin is desperate right now. He demanded my cooperation and at first, I told him I couldn’t help him. Of course he threatened to make my relationship with Delia public.”
“And?”
“I told him I’d give him a heads up before the police brought him in for questioning. That I’d work with his attorney to plead down to manslaughter. I can’t do much more than that and still keep my job.”
With a shiver, I pulled the collar of my coat tight around my neck. “Is Judge Keeler a part of this deal?”
He studied me with a narrowed gaze, causing wrinkles to appear beneath his eyes. “You seem to know everything.”
“I know the three of you are complicit in a lot of shit. Did Martin put Delia up to screwing you or was that all her idea?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking clearly the first night. Charlotte and I, we have our problems. We’d been arguing for days. Finally, I left the house and stopped by one of Sullivan’s poker games. That night, Delia wouldn’t take her eyes off me. Martin didn’t seem to notice, and afterward, we agreed to meet up at her place.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“Four months ago. It was exciting, you know? Fooling around behind Martin’s back.”
What a great friend. “How long did it go on?”
He hesitated. “Until she told me she was pregnant. Three weeks before she died.”
“Did she want money or something?”
“No.” He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets. “But she was thinking about keeping it. That brought everything to a halt.”
“Did you see her the night she died?”
He shook his head. “No. And I didn’t kill her either.”
“You don’t seem sorry that she’s dead.” In fact, with the exception of her parents and Andre Thomas, nobody seemed to care that Delia Cummings had been murdered.
He was quiet a moment before taking a deep breath. “I’m not. The baby could have been mine just as easily as it could have been Mathers’. That would have completely fucked my life.” He stared at the wet blacktop, where oily slime rose to the surface, creating an iridescent sheen.
David Ashby had very good reasons to kill Delia Cummings. But why share them with me? He was confessing a hell of a lot. But was he telling the truth about not killing her? “Why are you being so forthcoming, David?”
He dialed the wattage on his All-American smile up to dazzle. But I wasn’t fooled by the apple pie, flag-waving package. “You can’t prove anything I’m telling you. It’s my word against yours. And who do you think people will believe?” he asked. “Me? One of Huntingford’s top fifty up-and-comers? Or you? A dropout waitress with a criminal boyfriend?”
Not bothering to answer, I flung open the door and strode back inside, into the crowd and the dim lighting. The singer’s husky voice dipped on the chorus of a Sade song. I worked my way through the crowd at the bar to find Dane.
His gaze ran over me, took in my damp hair and my probably blue lips. “What happened?”
I walked out the front door and onto the sidewalk, peering up at him. “I just got waylaid by David Ashby. He admitted to the affair, said Delia’s baby could have been his.” I stalked toward my car, but Dane’s hand on my shoulder brought me up short.
“Why do you put yourself in these dangerous positions? I know your mother wouldn’t want you risking your neck for this shit.” He stroked my upper arm. “Someone killed Delia Cummings. And you’re not equipped to deal with these people. Do you want to wind up hurt? Again?”
He was referring to my previous investigations. Things had gotten a little messy, true, but I was fine.
I knew he worried about me. And while it was sweet that he cared so much, I wasn’t going to stop. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Mathers said if he went down, he’d take Sullivan with him. That was not going to happen.
“Dane,” I said, patting his hand. “I can’t do a lecture right now, okay?”
His lifted his hand from my arm to stroke my hair. “Okay. But call me if you’re in trouble. Promise me.”
I nodded. “Deal.”
He followed me to my car, kissed my cheek, and made sure my seatbelt was buckled before shutting the door. With his hands in his pockets, he stood on the sidewalk and watched me drive away.
*
I made it home in less than ten minutes. As I opened the front door, I damn near had a heart attack. Sullivan lounged on my futon, an arm draped along the back of it. Dressed in a dark suit with a crimson tie, he was devilishly sexy.
His gold eyes, however, were predatory. “How was your date?”
I shut the door behind me and paused, willing my racing pulse to slow down. “How did you know?”
He became a statue. I swear, he didn’t even blink for a full minute. “You’re not even going to deny it?”
I slipped out of the cashmere coat and hung it next to the door. I hated to take it off. Sullivan’s anger made my small apartment seem glacial. “Are you having me followed?”
His pause stretched out to an uncomfortable length. “You’re asking questions about the police chief and his dead mistress. Of course I’m having you followed.”
“You might have told me.” David Ashby had been following me, too and I never even noticed. So much for my skills of perception. “Look, I only met with Dane so I could get the dish on Martin Mathers and Delia Cummings. He knows all the courthouse buzz. And I had a little chat with David Ashby outside the club. He’s an asshole, by the by.”
He said nothing, but the silence was deafening. “Why was he touching you? Why did you touch him back?”
“I didn’t touch David Ashby.”
Sullivan pulled a breath and his nostrils flared ever so slightly. “Harker, Rose. Dane Harker put his hands on you.” His words were measured, and although his voice had gotten softer, he was seven shades of pissed. “And you touched him back. I want to know why.”
With my feet planted to the floor, I cast my mind back. Dane had touched me, he’d kissed my cheek hello, he’d stroked my arm, my hair. There’d been nothing romantic in any of it. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember touching him. And frankly, I don’t like your spies telling on me. It’s creepy.”
He stared me down, not blinking, not moving. His anger was palpable.
With a sigh, I walked over to the futon and flopped next to him. “If I were the slightest bit interested in Dane, would I be with you?” I looked into those cold, rage-filled eyes and repressed a shudder. When Sullivan got really worked up, he was like a tightly coiled spring ready to go boing.
My leg tucked beneath me, I shifted to face him and leaned my head against his outstretched arm. “Dane’s a friend. That’s all he’ll ever be.”
Without warning, he reached out and grasped my nape, pulling my head closer to his. “I will not be played, Rose. Especially not by you.” Then he kissed me. It wasn’t seductive or coaxing. It was a warning. A branding.
I thrust my hands into his dark mane and kissed him back. I was making my intentions clear as well. I wanted him—all of him.
Suddenly, I found myself lying flat on my back, with Sullivan spread out on top of me. He’d let go of my nape and his hands shoved beneath my sweater, pulling it over my head in one swift move. My bra quickly followed.
I tugged his jacket over his shoulders, yanked the knot from his tie, and practically ripped the buttons from his shirt in my haste to feel his bare chest against my own.
At first, I clutched his back as we continued to kiss, but slowly I eased up, letting my fingers rub along his smooth skin. Over his shoulder blades and down to his tapered waist. Without the sophisticated veneer of his clothes, he appeared almost savage as he pulled away. His hair was a sexy tangle. His pupils had grown wide, swallowing up the burnished gold of his irises.
“I’m not playing games with you.” His normally smooth, deep voice became gruff and textured. He was breathing as hard as I was and every time his chest pressed against my breasts, it made me ache for more.
Reaching up, I stroked the planes of his beautiful face. “What do you mean?” I wanted to hear him say it, say those words, the ones floating through my head every time he touched me, made love to me.
“You know how I feel.” He bent down to kiss me, but I stopped him by grabbing a hank of his hair in my other fist.
“How do you feel?” No, I didn’t want to hear the words. I needed to hear them.
His body froze, but his high cheekbones became flushed. “I’d fucking kill for you,” he ground out.
We tore at each other then, ripping at zippers and buttons. What followed was frenzied and raw. Passionate. And his eyes stayed on mine through it all. Never breaking contact. Not for one instant.
Chapter 22
When I woke the next morning, I was cocooned in Sullivan’s warm arms. He’d stayed.
I smiled against his chest, wanted to linger there, cuddling next to him for the rest of the day. But my phone’s alarm started blaring like a siren.
I reached over to the side table and shut it off, then curled back into Sullivan for just a few more minutes. He hadn’t awakened. His sharp features looked less fierce, but just as beautiful while he slept.
I’d been wondering for weeks if his feelings ran as deep as mine. What he gave me last night was so much more than three little words. And I believed what he said. The man would kill for me. God, only Sullivan could make a declaration like that impossibly romantic.
As gently as I could, I disentangled myself from his embrace and hustled into the shower. By the time I emerged from the bathroom, dressed and ready to face the day, Sullivan had gotten up, folded the blanket, and made coffee.
The aroma perked me up; seeing him without a shirt set me on fire. Tawny, smooth skin over hard-ridged muscles. His hair was a dark tangle. My fingers tingled at the thought of taming it. The smile he wore was arrogant and full of naughty promises.
Why? Why had I gotten out of bed?
“Good morning,” I said. All of the sudden I felt shy and girly. Heat bloomed in my cheeks.
He smirked. “Would have been better if you’d stayed in bed with me.”
I grinned and looked away. “Yeah, well, some of us work non-vampire hours.”
He crooked his finger. “Come here.”
I walked into his arms and buried my face against his chest. He kissed the top of my head and stroked his hand down my back. Before things could go further, I pushed away and leaning on my tiptoes, kissed his prickly chin.
“I have to get to work.” I practically fled the apartment. Otherwise, he’d have had me flat on my back again in no time.
The rain hadn’t abated all night, and this morning, it poured down in waves, which of course meant people tromped in with wet shoes. Jorge spent most of the morning mopping the floor. Lightening zipped through the sky and every time thunder boomed, I jumped a little.
Roxy’s mood was as foul as the weather. She hadn’t put any effort into her outfit this morning. She actually wore sweatpants and a t-shirt. All was not well in Roxyville. And when the guy at the back table timidly complained that he’d ordered wheat toast, she snatched the offending white bread off the table and replaced it by slamming the whole wheat in front of him, sending toast flying off the plate and onto the center of the table.
“I suppose you want me to get some more? This isn’t good enough either?” With her hands on her hips, she leaned over him.
“No, no that’s quite all right. I’m sure the table’s very clean,” he said.
I walked behind the counter and ordered him fresh toast. When Roxy whooshed past me to grab the coffee pot, I stopped her.
“Rox, you can’t take it out on the customers.”
One of her eyes narrowed. “I can’t have a bad day? Go to hell, Rose.” She shoved the coffee pot back on the burner and ran off to the bathroom.
I snagged the man’s toast at the pass thru and slid it in front of him on my way to the ladies’.
Roxy’d locked the door and I knocked until she opened it. Slipping inside, I barred the door with my back.
Roxy, her eyes red and swollen, her face mottled, sat on the sink and buried her head in her hands. “I thought Tariq and I had something special, you know? And now he’s in a relationship with someone else. Changed his status and everything. Then I went and made a fool of myself over stupid Brian. What is wrong with me?”
