by M. S. Parker
“You didn’t eat anything.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You’re going to get a crick in your neck if you keep doing everything you can to avoid looking at me.”
“I am–” Sighing, I turned my head and met his gaze. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want.” He offered me a crooked smile, one that invited me to smile back, one that made me feel all warm and melty inside.
I didn’t let myself return it, and I tried to ignore that warm, melty feeling.
He didn’t let it affect him. He lifted a shoulder and stretched out his long legs. The dark material of his suit clung to muscled thighs and my belly heated as memories of feeling that body against mine rushed through me.
The way his hand felt against my face.
His eyes on mine.
My breathing hitched in my lungs, and I swallowed, jerking my head around once more to stare outside.
There’s a funny thing about leather. It’s hard to be completely quiet when you’re sitting on it – or moving on it. I actually heard him this time, as he slid off his seat and came to sit next to me on my other side. James had indeed fallen asleep. I could hear the steady, deep sounds of his breaths, and the uneasy rattle that often plagued him of late.
Nervously, I shot Reaper a look before turning my head to resume my study of the landscape as it blurred by.
“Whatever it is you were thinking just now…” Reaper murmured, leaning in so close, I could feel the whisper of his lips brushing against my ear. “You should probably stop. We’ve only got about ten minutes left to go, and I’ll need every last one of them if I want to climb out of here without a hard-on.”
I jerked my head around and stared. Not at his face, but at his lap.
He groaned, the noise rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest, and I whipped my head up to meet his gaze. My cheeks were red, all but burning with it. He did indeed have an erection, and now, the hunger pulsing in me began to rage even harder.
“Stop it,” I said half-desperately. “This isn’t…we’re going to Elise’s funeral.”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb stroking over my lower lip. “I know.”
He shifted, moving to return to his seat.
I don’t know who was more surprised when I reached up and caught his arm. “Wait…I mean…sit here. With me.”
His eyes widened as I slid my hand down his forearm and laced my fingers with his. “Please.” Licking my lips, I busied myself looking everywhere but at him. “This is…it’s getting too real. Please.”
“Whatever you need, O.”
* * *
I hated funerals.
The first one I had attended had been for Bianca, the girl who had helped Jaquan jump James.
That was a few years after James had taken me in. Jaquan had gotten the tougher sentence, and it probably turned out to be the best for him. Although it was his second time in, he was turning his life around, working with dogs and younger inmates.
He’d be out in six more months, and he planned on continuing his work with dogs, according to Demarre.
Bianca had only served nine months of her sentence, and she’d fallen in with another gang, a rougher one.
She’d been loyal to Jaquan and he to her, but she’d never been all that bright. She hadn’t lasted a year with the new gang, killed by the leader’s girlfriend. Jealousy ran high in situations like that, and Bianca had been beautiful. Beautiful…and stupid. Easily fooled.
I’d paid for her funeral, and James had attended it with me, standing there at my side as I tried not to cry.
The only other person to show up had been Demarre. That was how we’d met. He’d reminded me so much of Jaquan, and I’d done a double-take as fear flooded me. He’d recognized me, although he’d only been a kid when he’d seen me last.
Bianca’s funeral had been closely followed by another funeral, a security guard who’d worked with James for almost as long as he’d owned the company. I’d stood with James. He hadn’t bothered to hide the tears, just quietly dabbing them from his face with a pristine white handkerchief.
There had been two more funerals since then, and each one had sucked.
But none of them had been like this.
There was only a handful of people, unlike the circus that had been Elise’s memorial service.
The household staff had been invited, and most of them were there. The nurses who’d cared for her in the final days were there as well. A few of her closer friends stood in a knot off to the side, weeping softly while James and the minister spoke.
I just wanted them to start the service and get it over with so I could get away from here and cry. The tears were a giant, miserable ache inside me, but I couldn’t cry in front of people. I just couldn’t.
The sound of a car approaching had me looking up, but it was with a casual disinterest. It wasn’t until the car slowed that any of us really paid it much attention.
Even then, as it came to a stop, we all just stared.
Even when one lone occupant climbed from the back seat, none of us reacted.
Well, one of us did.
Reaper.
He stepped in front of me, the gesture oddly protective.
Cherise Sinclair looked around, her eyes huge and red-rimmed, almost wild. Immediately on her heels was a large, suit-clad man who rushed to catch up with her as she started our way.
“You thought you could keep me from her even now,” Cherise said, her voice rising and falling.
“You–”
The man with Cherise caught her arm, pulling her to a stop as he held out a piece of paper. “Ms. Sinclair was granted permission to attend her sister’s funeral. If you want to see the court order, it’s all right here.”
Lawyer. I curled my lip as I stared at the piece of paper for a second, then up at Cherise.
“Funny time for you to decide you really cared about her,” I said sourly.
“I always cared!” Cherise shouted.
A few of Elise’s friends fluttered their hands, murmuring to themselves, and I flushed, shame rushing through me. This wasn’t the time or the place. What did it matter if Cherise was there?
Okay, she’d tried to kill me, yeah. That mattered.
But it wasn’t like she’d try anything again. She’d have to be crazy on top of stupid.
“I always cared,” she said again, her voice wobbling.
“Cherise, if you wish to stay for the funeral, so be it. But you’ll conduct yourself accordingly, or I’ll have you removed,” James said. His voice was thinner. He sounded weaker every day. But the threat was clear.
And I had no doubt he could have her removed.
For a moment, it looked like Cherise would argue.
But she must have thought better of it, lifting her chin and giving us both an icy glare. “Very well. While I despise the both of you, I’ll hold it in check so I can say goodbye to my sister.”
There were so many things I could have said to her.
I bit my tongue, holding all of them back.
I’d tolerate her, for now. But the second the funeral was over, she was going to get the hell away from here. Away from me, away from Reaper, away from James.
Chapter Eight
Reaper
I know too much about evil.
Evil can be twisted and confused…and it can convince itself that it understands love.
I was staring at the face of evil right now.
Plenty of people would think I was wrong, calling one Cherise Sinclair evil. Sure, she’d tried to arrange it so that it looked like I’d killed O. I wasn’t exactly sure what her endgame had been. She wouldn’t have gotten away with it, although arrogant people always assumed they wouldn’t get caught. Maybe she’d just figured that if James didn’t have his successor, the board would sell to one of the companies that had offered to buy Clarion before, and all the board members would be rolling in it within a few short months.
But that was just
greed driving her, most people would think.
There was a difference between greed and madness and evil.
Cherise might be greedy, but she had more madness and evil in her than greed. She lived to make people miserable.
I could spot the malice in her eyes from five hundred yards.
It glinted there, an ugly little monster looking to pounce.
But she was one twisted cookie, because from time to time, she would look over at the casket where it rested, just above the vault and the rage would fade from her eyes, replaced by a misty veil of tears. After a moment or two, she’d blink those tears back and suck in a breath, square her shoulders, and the rage and malice would return.
“I think she did love her sister,” I muttered as the funeral came to an end. “At least as much as she was able.”
O didn’t respond, her eyes drilling a hole into Cherise’s face.
Cherise seemed unaware, her gaze directed solely at James.
And she was smiling.
That smile was creepy as hell.
“Come on,” I murmured, curving a hand over O’s shoulder and herding her closer to James. “I want to get you all out of here.”
“We can’t leave yet.” She looked at the hand full of mourners.
“The hell you can’t. We’ll tell them James isn’t feeling well, and you’re going to tell him you’re not feeling well.”
She whipped her head around, glaring at me.
Bending my head until we were nose to nose, I glared at her. “Do it, O.”
She narrowed her eyes, and I prepared myself for the argument to come.
But to my surprise, she didn’t argue.
She turned on her heel and walked to James’s side, tugging on his hand until he took a few steps away. As they spoke quietly, I moved over to the plain clothes officers who James had hired. They’d kept their distance for the service, but now that it was over, they were on hand and watching Cherise with unconcealed interest.
“We’re going to bug out. You think one of you could maybe…stall her?”
The youngest, a tall, thin man with a scarred eyebrow, studied me. “Stall her how? You want us to arrest her? She’s got a court order allowing her out of her house for the funeral, but she’s expected to be back inside her home by a set time. Interfering with that could be construed as interfering with a court order.”
“Five minutes won’t interfere.” His partner studied me. “You think she’s up to something.”
“From what I’ve heard, she’s almost always up to something.” I didn’t want to tell him I had a bad feeling in my gut.
He must have sensed it anyway. “Tell you what…I was only hired to hang around until the service was over…and until you three left. Once I see you all heading out, I can maybe move my car.” A game smile curled his lips. “She’s parked awfully close to me. I can maybe get an important call and stop in a bad place. Just for a few minutes.”
“Appreciate it.”
He gave me a shake of his head. “Five minutes is all you’re getting, Mr. Dedman. And I’m only taking care of a call. That’s all.”
I gave both of them a smile and turned back just as O and James started down the path toward our car. It was on the other side of the road from where Cherise had parked, the front of the car already pointed toward the exit. From the corner of my eye, I saw Cherise throw her nose into the air and huff off.
She didn’t even notice the cop as he slouched off alongside her, his seemingly lazy stride eating up the ground so that he reached his car far faster than she did. He was already pulling out before we even climbed in.
And just as Cherise’s lawyer held open her door for her, the cop stopped his car. I could clearly see his phone as he lifted it to his ear.
They were trapped, pinned in between his car and a small wall of monuments. Her driver had been forced to wedge the car into that small space, and now they’d have to wait to be let out. As more cars from that lane began to back up and start their exodus, I smiled.
“You want to tell me what that was about?” James asked as I climbed into the limo.
“If I knew, I would.” I shrugged restlessly. “I just had a feeling we should be…elsewhere.”
Through the window O had cracked, we could hear raised voices.
I glanced over, watching as Cherise shouted at her driver to move the damn car already.
* * *
I had a message from a Detective Michael Vogler waiting for me when I checked my phone two hours later.
We’d gone to lunch, James, O, and me. O had told me that a local ladies’ club had offered to throw a wake, but she’d declined on behalf of James, explaining that he needed to limit his exposure to too many people because of his health.
I doubted that was why neither of them had wanted a wake, but I was happy all the same.
If I kept having to smile and nod at people, shaking hand after hand, while O looked like she wanted to find someplace quiet so she could cry, I might put a fist through something.
She’d fallen asleep in the limo on the way to the townhouse, but she’d woken up as soon as the car stopped.
She had a room here as well, and James had offered for her to stay the night, but she had refused.
She did accept the offer for coffee though, and we were inside the kitchen, O at the counter, staring at the coffee pot like it might make the coffee brew faster.
It wouldn’t.
Ducking into the hall, I listened to the first message from Vogler.
Short and to the point.
Looking for an Adam Dedman. Call me when you get this…blah blah blah…
The second message was a bit more urgent, and it echoed in his voice.
Mr. Dedman, this is Detective Vogler with the Cincinnati Police. I need to speak with you. It's urgent.
There was another number I didn't know. Three calls. I listened to the first message with a sense of growing dread.
This is Special Agent Gail Nolan. I am attempting to reach Adam Dedman. It's very important that you call me. I need to speak with you regarding Kylie Wallace.
I ended the call and went into my phone log to find Vogler’s number, tapping it the second it came up. I knew too much about Feds – a local cop might be more open. Besides, I was still pissed off at the fact that they'd fucked things with Wallace anyway.
Whatever that little troublemaker was up to, I didn’t want any part of it.
He answered on the second ring. “Detective Vogler.”
“This is Adam Dedman. You’ve been calling.”
“Yes…” He sighed. “Yes, I have. First, I must ask…where are you and are you alone?”
Immediately, a chill raced up my spine. “I’m in Cincinnati.” I rambled off the address. Remembering little details like that was second nature after so much time with the SEALs, although we’d gone by coordinates rather than street names. “I’m with two civilians. Why?”
“Would that be James Clarion and…ah, Olivia Darling?”
The chill turned to ice. “Why?”
Chapter Nine
Olivia
The moment Reaper stepped back into the kitchen, I knew something was wrong.
He was clutching the phone in a fist so tight it had gone bloodless, and his eyes skimmed the entire room as if seeing it for the first time.
“Is there a basement in this house?” he asked.
“A…what?” I stared at him, confused.
“A basement. Is there a basement?” His voice was flat.
“Yes,” James responded while I was still trying to process the odd question. He was already working his way to the edge of the seat so he could stand up. His face tightened with pain, and I moved over to offer a hand. I wasn't surprised when he didn't accept it, although he did rest a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.
His breathing was far from even and for a moment, I was distracted.
It didn't last long.
Reaper caught my arm and started walking me out of t
he room. “You two are going into that basement. James, don’t disappoint me. Tell me you have weapons in this place.”
“Of course I have weapons. Now please…tell us what’s going on.”
He managed to deliver the words with too much dignity for a man who was breathing heavy from just walking across the living room. But the authority in his voice had Reaper stilling. Finally, he shot James a look. “Cherise didn’t go home after the funeral. I just got done talking with a local cop. He’s been in contact with the FBI. And the feds…well, the feds have reported that Cherise Sinclair has been in contact with Kylie Wallace.”
“Kylie…” My mind blanked out on me for a minute, and I just stared at him, not following. “Who…oh. Wait a minute. That’s the bitch who has been giving weapons and money to some extremists over in the Middle East, isn’t it? Are you telling me that Cherise Sinclair, a member of our board of directors, is involved with a traitor?”
I was going to be sick. I knew it.
“No.” Reaper shook his head. “Not on that level. It looks like she reached out after what happened at the party. She was pissed that her little welcome present to me got spoiled, so she thought she’d talk to somebody else who hated me as much as she apparently does. What can I say? People love me. Now…let’s go.”
* * *
“What is this?” Reaper asked as I escorted him into the vault.
“A safe room,” James said.
I slid my hand out, looking for the light switch.
I found a light, alright – the one in my hand.
My phone had lit up. Frowning, I angled it so that the light shone on the wall. Once I had the lights on, I looked at the screen and realized I still had the phone on silent. It had been that way all day.
I didn’t even remember pulling it from my purse. It was my lifeline though. I researched, double-checked, fact-checked and triple-checked everything possible on that little device.
Maybe I was thinking I’d follow up on what Reaper had told me once we were in the safe room. When Reaper had asked about a basement, I doubted he was expecting anything like this.