Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6)

by Moore, Addison

  My mouth falls open. “Lots of kids? I love kids.” My head lands over his shoulder until I’m looking up at him from under my lashes. “How many are we talking? One, two dozen?”

  He belts out a laugh. “I love kids, too. How ever many please you. How about that?” He brushes the hair from my forehead and hitches it behind my ear. “And I know that you are going to be one spectacular mother. You’re a wonderful person, Lottie.” There’s a sadness in his eyes, and I can’t quite put my finger on why.

  “Hey?” I pull back a bit. “You’re not upset over that office visit with Dr. Ferdinand, are you? The only reason I brought Everett was because I didn’t think you’d approve.” I wince when I say it because we’ve both determined that I don’t give too much thought on whether or not he approves about anything, but I mean that in the very best, the very nicest way. I get why he’s like that, and it has everything to do with my safety.

  “No, I’m not upset.” He blinks toward the fire before looking as if he wanted to shoot Everett. “I mean, I’m not thrilled. It’s Everett.” He shakes his head, his gaze still set at the fire as if it were a portal to the past. “He’s not my favorite person. And I can guarantee he feels the same.”

  “He mentioned something about a girl a while back. One you borrowed and didn’t give back.”

  He glances to the ceiling. “Not this again. See? This is the exact reason we will never get along. I think it’s fair to say we agree to disagree. And for the record, I have apologized—maybe not loud enough for him to hear it. But it’s nice to know he’s got a real talent for nurturing a grudge. And I know that you appreciate him as a friend, but please believe me when I say he is particularly interested in you because it’s his petty way of getting back at me. I’m sorry, Lot. I’m sorry you were inadvertently dragged into this.”

  A throaty laugh comes from me as I put down my pizza and scratch at the soft scruff over his cheeks. “I promise I am not concerned. And Everett and I are simply friends. He has never tried anything funny. There’s absolutely zero evidence he’s trying to steal me away from you because of some high school-issued revenge. I think he really may be over it.”

  “Not if he’s bringing it up. And not if he’s bringing it up with you. He’s planting a seed, Lottie. Tearing down my character one subtle dig at a time.”

  My arms dive around his neck as I pull him in. “Well, it’s not working. In fact, one might even say it’s backfiring spectacularly.” I giggle into a kiss.

  Noah secures his hand over the back of my head and holds me there, our lips enjoying one achingly soft, slow peck after the other. He nibbles on my bottom lip before tugging at it softly with his teeth.

  A deep moan comes from him. “I vote we move the party to a different location.”

  “I second that vote.”

  Noah has me in his arms again as he swoops me through the living room, and Dutch roars to life, barking and dancing around Noah’s feet as if threatening to trip him. The barking gets louder, full speed and top volume as if someone placed a megaphone to his snout. My feet scissor through the air, and I do my best to get him to stop with a wag of my finger, but he only increases in velocity.

  “Would you hush?” I whisper it so loud and fast it almost sounds like a sneeze.

  Noah pauses a moment. “What’s that?”

  “Oh, nothing. I was just—my stomach was growling.”

  He backtracks a few steps. “Let’s get that pizza in you. I’m a patient man.” His dimples dig in adorably, and I can’t help but bite down over my lip at the offer.

  “No way. Get me to that bedroom, Noah Fox. I have naughty intentions with you, and I plan on initiating them sooner than later.”

  “I’m willing to bet my intentions are a little naughtier than yours.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Noah’s bedroom is spacious and sparse, which seems reasonable since he’s both a man and a minimalist. The furniture has that rustic, masculine appeal with each piece fashioned together with logs. The headboard itself is a series of dark wooden logs that run horizontal, and it feels homey and right in every single way.

  Just as Noah is about to land me onto the mattress, Dutch bounds in, yelping and barking, sprawling his massive body over the circumference of the bed.

  “No, no, no!” I cover my eyes as Noah deposits me gently, and I feel a strange rush as my body pushes through the furry phantasm who is insistent on not missing one exciting moment of my life.

  Noah pulls back, his face heavy with concern. “You’ve changed your mind.” His serious eyes meet with mine. He pushes out a slow breath of frustration. “How about I take you to dinner? I’m sorry that I’m moving so fast.”

  “What? No!” I pull him down over me and hold him there with all my might. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to—” I glance over at Dutch who looks to be happily chewing on Noah’s shoe. “Myself.” I give a little shrug. “It’s just something I like to do.”

  “You said no.” He gets up, his hands in the air as if it were a stickup.

  “No, no! It’s just something I like to say. See there? I did it again.”

  His chest pumps with the idea of a laugh.

  “Yes! I want you, Noah Corbin Fox.” I climb to my knees and pull him back over me. The weight of his body feels as if it’s something I’ve craved all my life. My lips find his, and we’re hitting our stride again. “I love you, Noah. I want this and everything else with you, too.” My hands ride over his rock-solid chest as I do my best to undo the buttons on his dress shirt.

  His eyes remain pinned on mine as he inches up my sweater, away from the lip of my jeans, and my bare skin becomes exposed to the cool air in the room. Noah and I are going for the slow reveal, the slow tease, and it feels as if it’s been a long time coming. Every last part of me is already titillated beyond measure.

  His mouth opens just as his phone rings in his back pocket, and he squints as if he regretted even knowing what a phone was. Noah falls to his elbow and fishes it out of his pocket before looking at the screen.

  “And here we go.” He picks up and tucks it to his ear. “Fairbanks,” he mouths my way.

  And there we go. Who knew Dutch and Ivy would team up to be a dynamic duo capable of preventing coitus in a single bound? I scowl over at the happy pooch, and he drops his head between his paws and whines.

  I feel the same, buddy. Exactly the same.

  Noah hangs up and stares at me for a moment.

  “You don’t need to say it. She needs you. The office needs you. All of Ashford County needs you back at your desk eating pizza with Ivy and her miles of long red hair.” I sling my arm around his neck as he falls next to me. “I get it. And I don’t mind. I love your career. I love that you get to do something that makes you happy.”

  “Nothing makes me happy like you do.” He dots a kiss to my lips.

  “So, what’s on the agenda?” I ask as he bounces to his feet and pulls his gun off the dresser that I hadn’t even noticed was simply sitting there. Terrifying, really.

  Noah’s chest expands as he looks my way. His lips twist as if he were uncertain if he should say a word. “There’s a dent in Bella Carter’s car. I can’t say much more.”

  “Oh, the dent!” I sit up, suddenly animated in a whole other way. “That’s right!”

  “Wait—you know about this?”

  “Yes. I mean, I didn’t hear the crash. But I saw the dent in Ned Sweeny’s minivan and his busted taillight. I guess I forgot to mention it.”

  “What do you mean you forgot to mention it?” Noah looks incensed—oh, all right, he looks downright ticked.

  “I mean, we’ve been so busy. I hardly see you. I was waiting for a chance to get you alone. Everett and I—”

  “You told Everett?” His brows dip with disappointment, but it’s his tone that lets me know he’s hurt. “Lottie, why would you keep these details to yourself? This could be vital information that could solve this case and, believe it or not, no o
ne wants this case solved more than I do.”

  I raise my hand slightly. “I might be able to match your vigor.”

  Noah sags a moment, a slight look of defeat in his eyes. “Ned Sweeny?” He pulls on his jacket, his face distressed as if I had just told him it was Ned Sweeny’s body I discovered next.

  “Yeah. I didn’t confront him about it, but I saw it the night of the tree lighting. Everett saw the damage the night of the murder, but he had no idea who the van belonged to. Did you know that Bella and Ned were—”

  “Related by marriage.” He blinks a dry smile. “I did know that, Lot.”

  “Oh, and he has this vast collection of those creepy wooden dolls just like the one in Dr. Ferdinand’s office. Do you think they were arguing about the doll?”

  “No, Lot.” He helps me up as we head back toward the living room. “They were arguing because they’re having a messy breakup. Dr. Ferdinand and Ned have been having an affair.”

  “What?” I shriek so loud, Dutch gives a bark to go along with it. “But he’s got a wife! A sick one at that.”

  “And that, unfortunately, is how an affair works.” He pulls me into his strong, warm arms, and I never want him to let go. “It usually happens when one person doesn’t feel fulfilled by their partner. They go off and find whatever it is they’re missing in someone else.” Grief pulls down his features, and it makes me wonder if he’s thinking about his own wife—ex-wife. “I hope I never make you feel that way, Lot.”

  “No way. And I’m certainly never going to look to Everett for a single thing.”

  His brows knot up as his chest rumbles with a laugh, taking my own body along for the trembling laugh. “It’s not you I’m worried about. He has a way of getting what he wants, when he wants.”

  “He didn’t get that girl you stole from him.”

  His eyes widen as if there was a bullet coming at him, and I cringe.

  “Sorry! Bad example. How about we have a do-over? Our night of spontaneity sort of went sideways.”

  “I’m in.” He lands a kiss to my lips. “You’re welcome to stay. I have no idea when I’ll be back.”

  “I think I’ll head home to Pancake. I have a three a.m. wake-up call. It’s the busiest month of the year. But if you happen to be on Main Street tomorrow, please stop in. I’ll have all of your favorites on standby.”

  Noah walks me across the street before jumping into his truck and taking off with a wave.

  Noah and Ivy are just now getting around to investigating Bella and the carnage she inflicted with her car that night.

  Bella’s ballistic brother comes to mind. Maybe I’ll check him out next. I’d hate to point the finger at someone with merely hearsay. He’s probably just your run-of-the-mill overprotective big brother.

  Or maybe he’s prone to bouts of icicle wielding insanity?

  Either way, I’m about to find out.

  Chapter 13

  “Oh. Ma. Gah,” Keelie struts the words out low and sporadic. It’s her verbal shorthand for all things fantastic. And clearly the sight before us has taken her breath away.

  “Breathe,” I hiss. “The last thing I need is to pluck you off the floor.”

  “This is a virtual buffet of the male species. Who has time to breathe? And, dear God, if I pass out, don’t you dare pluck me off the floor. I want one of these muscle men to give me mouth-to-luscious-mouth.”

  “And maybe an STD. Did you ever think of that? No offense, but these guys all look as if they need to discharge their excess testosterone on the regular—and I doubt they’re doing it alone.”

  It turns out, the place to find Mason Carter is the Ashford Hard Body Gym, a place that Keelie and I found ourselves intimately acquainted with last month while we were questioning Jules King during Collette Jenner’s murder investigation. But this is no Skin Swim. Mason works in the Bicep Belt, otherwise known as the weight room.

  “That’s him.” The teenager giving us a tour points toward a real live human being covered with flesh and thick, cable-like cords that distend from his tree trunk of a neck. Keelie suggested we cut to the chase and ask for him by name, pointing out the fact that dozens of girls most likely request him by his formal moniker. “Anyway. Enjoy your day pass.”

  She takes off and it’s just Keelie and me, and about five hundred hard bodies oiled to perfection. On second thought, that’s probably just sweat dripping down their well-chiseled bodies.

  Keelie sighs. “Oh, hon, I have no idea where to begin. It’s like letting a kid loose in a candy store. So many yummy abs and just one mouth to gobble them all up with. About how many times do you think I could give out my number before it becomes a problem?”

  “Well, it is Christmas. I say let the good times ring.”

  She takes off for the free weights, and soon enough there’s a handsome stack of muscles assisting her in the endeavor.

  I suppose this is the part where I should take a cue from my bestie. My feet meander over to where Mason encourages a couple of lanky boys to grunt it out while hoisting metal wheels the size of hubcaps over their heads.

  “Excuse me!” I give a flicker of my fingers as he looks my way, and why do I get the feeling I’ve suddenly morphed into my mother? “Can you help a girl out? I’m not looking to turn into the Hulk. I just want a little definition.”

  “Sure thing, little lady.” He gives a hearty wink and leads us to the back where a bevy of miniature weights in a rainbow of fruity colors sit in a neat pyramid. And for the life of me, I thought they were toys set out to occupy the junior set.

  “Try these.” He hands me a pair of hot pink vinyl covered glorified paperweights, and I’m more than glad about it. The last thing I want is sore arms while whipping out the three million gingerbread cookies I need to produce en mass before next week.

  “Oh, this is perfect. I just need to get a little strength in me. You know? I live in Honey Hollow, and the last few months really have me on edge. We’ve just had another murder. A murder! Can you believe it?”

  Veins erupt from his neck and under his eyes, popping to the surface of his plum-colored skin. A disconcerting sight, but, nonetheless, I can’t seem to look away. After all, I was trying to get a visceral reaction from him—if indeed he was the killer. But honestly? The rash of murders we’ve had as of late could pop the vein of even the most innocent of them all.

  “So I’ve heard.” He grunts as he helps position my arms out and wide like wings. “Tanner Redwood.” He gives a wistful shake of the head.

  My heart thumps unnaturally when he says his name. “Did you know him?”

  His eyes meet with mine for a brief second, and someone lets their weights drop near the back, breaking the awkward spell.

  “Yeah, I knew the twerp. He was leading my sister on like some kind of a moron—and apparently, half of Ashford County.”

  “Oh, wow. I bet that drives you berserk.” It was Bella who hand-fed me her brother. I may as well utilize her terminology.

  “It’s like you know me.”

  “Brothers. You’re all the same. You know one, you know ’em all.” Not really, but hey, it seems to be working. “So, I hear he was killed with an icicle to the neck. Do you think someone’s older brother finally got their hands on Tanner?” As in you? For the love of God and my sex life, confess already. I’m about ready to go berserk myself the next time I see Noah in the wild. It’s a cruel thing to tell my lady parts to brace themselves for a gentleman caller only to have a homicide block you off at the pass.

  He balks at the thought. “With an icicle? That’s something only a girl would use. In fact, the police caught the woman who did it.”

  “But they haven’t made any arrests so far.” Suddenly I’m fearing for my freedom. And, my God, what if he knows it was me hovering over Tanner’s lifeless body with the murder weapon in my hand?

  Something only a girl would use.

  I glare at him a moment for this sexist remark. I’m sure plenty of men have committed murder by way of f
rozen water. It’s brilliant, really. Theoretically, it could melt, and the murder weapon could vanish altogether. Although, Noah let me know they have this particular murder weapon safely tucked in the freezer. Not that it helps with forensics, but they didn’t know what else to do with it.

  “They’re probably just putting together a case, gathering evidence.” He scratches his chin, his stalwart frame posturing toward a group of girls who just walked in wearing less than a bathing suit. “To be honest, if it were me, I would have just beaten the snot out of the kid. It was on my list of things to do, but the killer got there first.”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. Mason does not sound guilty in the least. Unless he’s an expert at covering it up. If I were trying to get away with murder, I might employ the same tactic.

  “Personally”—he goes on—“I think death was letting him off a little too easy. After what he did to my sister. What he was doing to me—” His body tenses, and his eyes get a faraway look in them as he leaves the room emotionally for a moment. “I would have made Tanner Redwood suffer a whole lot longer than the three seconds it took for him to pass out at the sight of his own blood. He probably broke his neck when he hit the ground. I doubt a little puncture wound like that could have proven lethal.” He straightens my arms again as I continue to flap like a bird in flight. “Someone missed something. There’s no way that dude died of a stab wound.”

  Could he be right?

  I shake my head at him. “But it must have hit an artery.”

  Mason winces. “I wasn’t there, but I heard there was hardly any blood. Now you tell me if it hit an artery.”

  One of the girls calls him by name, and he excuses himself as he takes off with his enormous chest puffed out as if he wanted to impress her.

  I was there. I did see the blood. Although Mason is right, there didn’t appear to be much. But, then again, Tanner was dressed like Santa. With all that red fabric, he was swimming in a pool of crimson despite the fact he had a puncture wound. I’ll have to ask Noah what the coroner’s report says. Not that he’ll be willing to share it with me. He’s stubborn that way. And fiercely loyal to Ivy. Okay—so he’s fiercely loyal to his career, but some days it feels more like the former.