by Nicole Snow
“Izzy, this is Captain Bob Dawson from the sheriff’s department,” Brent says. “He’s brought the paperwork for you to sign for the OFP.”
Oh, we've met.
He’s the one who gave me a ticket weeks ago. And was extremely rude about it.
I’m hoping the captain doesn’t remember my face, but considering my car in the driveway, there really isn’t much hope.
“Hello, Captain Dawson,” I say, trying not to grit my teeth.
“Ms. Derby.” He gives a shallow nod. Then he sets some papers on the counter and pulls a pen out of his shirt pocket. “If you’ll just complete these forms, and sign them, I’ll have them sent to the judge promptly.”
“Thank you.” I take the pen and slide the papers closer.
Brent and the Captain talk while I read the instructions and check the appropriate boxes. I’m in the midst of explaining what happened at my apartment in as few words as possible when the doorbell rings again.
Brent excuses himself to go get the pizza.
The captain steps over and leans against the island. My nerves are already shot, and his closeness makes my spine ice up.
I really don't like this man. Something weird about him. Police officers are supposed to make you feel safe. With him, it's the opposite.
“How long have you known Brent Eden?” he asks, glancing at the lines I’ve completed.
It's hard not to turn and look him in the eye. I don’t think that's anyone’s business and keep my attention on the papers. “A while.”
“Did you know his brother? David?”
I don’t glance up. “No.”
“Ah. Just curious. Brent’s done a lot of work for the department, and I’ve known him for years. It’s too bad what happened to Dave.”
I’m curious, but don't dare ask. Not with that strange, soft edge in his voice.
I sign the last page and slide them all over to him. “Done, officer. Anything else you need from me?”
Brent and Nat enter the room, chattering away. Thank God. Natalie sets the pizza box on the counter.
“Got all I need right here, Brent,” the captain says. “I’ll head out now. Better get at that pizza before it gets cold.”
Brent walks him outside while Natalie and I set the table.
She’s still a bit subdued, so I turn the subject to the pizza, pretending I’ve never had Mike’s before. Her demeanor changes instantly, and by the time Brent returns, we're laughing and comparing local pizza joints.
After we eat, Brent insists on driving us both to the school and sits in the back of the room the entire time. By the time we get home, the stress of the last two days is dragging on me.
I go upstairs, take a bath, and then crawl into bed. I hear Brent come upstairs. I don’t want to imagine how comforting it would be to flop down next to him, feel those strong arms wrap around me. But tonight's not the night or the place for it.
I shouldn’t be so selfish. This isn’t easy on him, either.
He’s as stressed as I am. I can tell.
Even though I’m tired, I know I won’t be able to sleep, so I pull out my tablet to read. I don't get far. None of the books I’ve downloaded hold my attention tonight, so I open up my web browser, and before I even realize it, I’m typing David Eden into the search bar.
There are plenty of people by that name, and I only need to pay nine dollars and ninety-nine cents to shady background sites to learn all about them.
Snorting, I narrow my search. Including Brent’s name in quotes helps, but the only things that come up are Davey’s obituary on several different websites.
That creepy cop is why I’m more curious now than before. Why in God's name did he ask me about Brent's dead brother?
It makes no sense and it's eerie as hell. I don't just dislike Captain Dawson. He freaks me out.
I sigh, shutting off the tablet. “You don’t like him because he gave you a ticket,” I whisper to myself. It's not very reassuring. “Just go to sleep. Stop trying to make a mountain out of every molehill...”
An hour later, I’m still wide awake, and seriously contemplating sneaking down the hall to Brent’s bedroom, apologizing for being so foolish earlier, and begging him to let me crawl into his bed. Preferably naked.
It's wrong, but there are a few walls between his room and Nat's. If we're careful, there isn't a chance we'll wake her.
The click of the door opening has me sitting up, and the dark silhouette that appears in the doorway a second later sends my heart soaring.
He walks in and closes the door behind him. “Nat's sound asleep.”
“Oh?” It’s all I can think to say.
He steps closer to the bed. “I’m not, Blue. Wide awake.”
“Same,” I whisper, slowly flipping back the covers, exposing the wide-open space beside me.
He’s not even completely on the bed before we’re kissing. Seriously and deliciously. Tongues fused, thrashing, hot omens of things to come.
Pulling his mouth away, he says, “I suggest no boundaries once she’s sleeping.” He cups one of my breasts firmly, rolling the nipple between his fingers. “None whatsoever.”
I slide my hands under his T-shirt. “Sold.”
12
Dark Formula (Brent)
I pull the door shut on Blue’s apartment and lock it. Her place is as good as new.
Better, really, than when she’d first moved in. That’s for sure. The job took longer than it needed to, replacing the carpet and sub-floor. I usually leave that to someone else.
Clean it and get out is the motto for most of the jobs I contract. This one wasn’t contracted, though, and I wanted it to take as long as possible.
I’ve gotten used to Blue being in my place. Warming my bed. Sneaking into hers.
Fucking her brains out after we've both had a long, hard day. Usually keep my hand pressed over her mouth or stuff her face in the pillow so the little screamer doesn't make too much noise.
I'm too damn used to the new routine. Like it too much. Don't want it changing.
Too bad I’ll have to let her know the place is done, though. Riker, the manager, just did the walk through with me. So did the nosy neighbor, Mr. Barrett. Both kept asking when Blue would be coming back.
Not for a little while, I told them. Now, I just have to make sure she agrees to it.
There hasn’t been a word from that asshole, Preston, but I’m still not totally convinced he’s the one who trashed her place. That keeps my nerves on edge. There's no peace. More like the calm before a storm.
Bastard Phil hasn’t shown up either. Not since I threatened him with his own knife.
It's not like any fuckers in the Pearls to give up so easy. He’d been hounding me for weeks, and now, nothing?
Doesn’t make sense. Stinks worse than the rotten carpet we just ripped out.
Then again, none of this ever did. No sense. Going all the way back to Davey getting tangled up with them in the first place.
I push open the double glass doors of Blue’s apartment lobby and walk to my truck.
Davey got greedy, but he liked his job with the newspaper and was a damn good photographer. When he said he'd quit, neither my parents or I believed it. He floundered around then, taking odd jobs, spent months at the ranch. Kept saying he was fixing the place up, but never actually did any fixing.
I climb in the truck and turn on the ignition.
I slap the steering wheel. Can't fucking help it.
“Damn. If only he’d taken my offer that night.” My business wasn’t as successful then as it is now, when I'd offered my brother money, but I’d have given him every dime I had.
Years Ago
“Whatever money you need, you've got it. Right here.”
Davey laughs as he picks up my checkbook and tosses it back at me. “This isn’t about money, big bro. It’s bigger.”
“Bigger danger, you mean. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
He shrugs. “Same shit they said
about you. As I recall, you could've gotten killed in the Army, but that didn’t stop you, did it? Didn't stop you from wheeling drugs and guns and fucking God only knows how many sluts when you were a Grizz.” An angry glare appears in his eyes. Jealousy.
Christ. Doesn't he see how I hang my head when he mentions my past? The club was dirty in those days, but the worst of it never snowballed into Arizona. It still nearly cost me my life, and my soul.
“The only reason you left,” he says, “only reason you came home for good, is because Cindy died.”
He’s done that before, the prick. Acting like Cindy’s death was my fucking fault.
It wasn’t. An act of God took her away before her time. I step closer to him, balling my hands into fists to keep from grabbing at his shirt, and shaking some sense into him.
I’d tried that once. It doesn’t work. Just makes him more determined to fuck up his life.
“Davey, don’t you think I wish she was alive? That Natalie could know her ma?”
“You kept Cindy on a yo-yo string for years. On again, off again. Left her wondering. Had everybody scratching their heads.”
Keeping my anger in check grows harder. “This isn’t about Cindy, dammit. It’s about you, and how you're a chin hair away from fucking up your life. Throwing it away.”
He shrugs. “Mine to fuck up, bro.”
“You’re right about that,” I say. “But what about Mom and Dad? Don’t you care about them? About how they’d feel knowing you’re mixed up with the mob?”
He laughs. “There you go again. It was fine for you to be part of the Grizzlies, but not me. Oh, no. Never little Davey. I’m the good brother. Can't measure up to big brother's success or his disasters.” He shoves a finger in my chest.
“No, Brent. This time, it's different. I’ll be the one everyone’s talking about. The one everyone’s so proud of.” He tosses his pool stick on the table. “It’s been a long time coming, but it'll be worth it. Just wait.”
Present
My eyes are stinging and my throat burns like hell, remembering how I’d stood there and watched him walk out the door. That was the last time I’d seen him alive.
Two days later, I was identifying his body at the morgue. A job I didn’t want to hand off to either of my parents. A sight I couldn't stand them to see.
I reverse the truck and drive out of the parking lot.
Cross-fire. That’s what the police said. That Davey was caught up in the cross-fire of a drug deal gone wrong. That he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Like hell.
He'd been shot in the head at point blank range and then put in his car. His keys were in his pocket. I wanted to know more, but my parents believed the story. They wanted to believe and I couldn’t ruin Davey’s memory by insisting it was a lie.
Even now. That’s why I have to be careful.
My phone rings at the same time the speaker tells me Blue’s calling. I glance at the clock while tapping the answer button. Nat had ridden to school with her today and she’d sent a text a short time ago, saying they were home and going swimming in the pool.
“Hello,” I say.
“Hey.”
She doesn’t sound right. That instantly heightens my instincts. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you on your way home?”
Blue's voice trembles. Urgency has me stepping harder on the gas. “Right this second. Why?”
“Captain Dawson...he s-said they found Preston Graves. He's dead, Brent.”
Fuck.
I suck in my breath. “I’m on my way. Be there soon, babe, don't go anywhere.” Although I have a ton of questions, now's not the time. “There’s nothing to worry about. Is Dawson still there?”
“Y-yes. He asked when you’d be home.”
I wish I was there. To comfort her and tell Dawson he should've called me first. Dropping this on Blue...it's too damn much.
He shouldn't have knocked on the door with this kind of bomb. What the fuck was he thinking? “I’ll be home in a few.”
“Okay.”
Her voice sounds so meek, so drained, my pulse kicks higher. “It'll be all right, babe. Everything.”
Concern for Blue, how she sounded, stays first and foremost as I speed toward home. Meanwhile, I curse Dawson.
The man's not an idiot, so what gives?
He’s hired me for a large number of jobs the past couple of years. Has to know I don’t appreciate him telling Blue that type of news alone.
His squad car sits in the driveway. I park behind Blue’s car and jump out of the truck.
Dawson steps through the front door just as I step on the porch.
“Ms. Derby's fine, Brent,” he says, blocking me from going around him. “We need to talk.”
“Why?” I play dumb.
He rubs a hand over his stiff mustache. “Preston Graves was beaten before he was dumped in the desert. Left to die.”
A chill rips up my spine. “Yeah, what else? What are you insinuating?”
Folding his arms across his chest, he raises a brow. “Hope you won't take this the wrong way, however...it’s no secret you had some rough friends, Eden.”
“The Grizzlies?” I’m instantly pissed, but hide it by shaking my head. “Fuck, you know I haven’t been a member for a long time. But even if I was, that wouldn’t have anything to do with this. Besides, their national Prez, Blackjack, keeps the uglier elements on a tight leash these days. Local chapter flies right from everything I've heard. All the straight up scum long purged. The MC doesn't do shit like that anymore. Not in Arizona, or anywhere.”
“Standard procedure. Nothing personal,” he says quietly. “Surely, you can't blame me, considering how it looks. An old boyfriend breaking into your girlfriend’s apartment? Who winds up dead a couple weeks later?”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Dawson.” I look him dead in the eye. “Tell me one thing: do I need a lawyer?”
He says nothing. “Just want you to know you’ll be looked at long and hard. Friendly warning. If you have anything to say, you’d be better off telling me privately. We’ve worked together a lot recently. That could work in your favor.”
He’s overseen the L.E. cleanups I’ve been hired to do, and he's referred me to others, but it’s not as if we're drinking buddies. “I don’t need any favors,” I say. “No one's above the law. If I've got to clear my name, I will. Didn’t have anything to do with Preston Graves.”
He shrugs. “The investigators will think differently, given all the evidence.”
Evidence? The fuck is he on about?
“What evidence? I’ve only ever seen the guy once. The night he was in Izzy's face, trying to strong-arm her into a second date she wanted nothing to do with.” I stop right there. I've got to be damn careful what I say next, however true.
He slaps my shoulder as he walks past. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I spin around, watch him walk to his car, then let it go.
He’s just doing his job. Right?
Now, I have to do mine.
I walk into the house and find Blue in the kitchen. The moment she sees me, she squeezes her eyes shut. The recent tears are obvious, and so is her fighting to hide more. I walk over and pull her into my arms.
“I didn’t like him, but I didn’t want him dead,” she sobs quietly into my shirt. “Just wanted him to go away and leave me alone!”
I kiss the top of her head. “Course you did, Blue. You don't have a mean bone in your body.”
Preston was a little prick. Not a stretch to believe he pissed off the wrong person. I cringe slightly at the thought. I had threatened him, once.
He could have told others. Fuck.
I could get in some scalding hot water over this shit. I can’t have that. Not with the Pearls already breathing down my neck.
I need to know more. Releasing her, I keep one arm around her while leading her to a stool. “What else did Dawson say?”
She sniffs, wiping her
eyes. “He wanted to know when the last time I saw Preston was. I told him I haven’t seen him since that night at the school. Two times, ever.”
Shit. I'm not expecting her to have lied, but if she’d told him word-for-word what happened, I’m fucked.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Preston must have pissed off the wrong person. Maybe he’s been harassing another woman from that dating site.”
Her phone rings. The screen says Mom.
Glad for the interruption, I slide it across the counter. “Good distraction. You should take it.”
Blue shakes her head.
“You’ll have to talk to her sooner or later,” I say. “Clara knew Preston, she said. Fundraiser or something, like she told us at the wedding.”
“Shit. You're right.” She picks up the phone. “Hey, Mom. How’s Vegas? Oh, you’re home already...”
My mind weighs a hundred pounds and it's spinning out of control.
The way Davey’s death was handled, no one in Phoenix investigations was overly worried about discovering the truth. I know the workload of those detectives. The quickest and easiest route to a resolution is the one they usually follow. Especially when the signs of foul play aren't ironclad.
“Hey, Dad.” Natalie opens the sliding glass door and steps into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her wet body. “Did Izzy tell you we’re making tacos for supper? Hatch chilis with 'em!”
“Sounds good. How’s the pool?”
“Perfect.” She nods towards Blue. “We were just heading out the door when the sheriff showed up.”
I hadn’t noticed Blue has a swimming suit on because it’s covered with a long shirt. Needing a way to release the tension that’s overwhelming me, I say, “I’ll go get my suit on. We can all take a swim before supper.”
“Awesome,” Natalie exclaims. “I told Izzy you’d probably join us once you got home.” She lowers her voice. “Is everything okay? Did they find out who broke into Izzy's apartment?”
“They’re still working on that,” I say, recalling the bikini I’d packed up at Blue’s last week and brought here, along with most of her other personal items. “I’ll meet you outside in five or ten.”