"Correct. I'm not usually a jump to conclusions type guy, but something tells me the sheriff knows more than he's letting on. Is there justification for investigating him as well?"
Asher drew a deep breath. It took several seconds before he responded. "Legally? Probably not, unless we have evidence tying him to the crimes, but I have some resources that can check off the books. If we find anything, then we find a way to tie him to the investigation and that gets us PC to find the information or evidence legally. We'd be spinning our wheels going after him now. I don't want to waste any more time chasing false leads. Would you arrange for me to visit the crime scene and swing by my hotel so I can follow you to that location?"
"I can do that. Where are you staying?" Mal glanced through the window and watched as one of the technicians walked by with his mother. He could tell by the man's hand gestures that he was explaining the system to her.
"I'm staying at... ahh, here it is, The Paintville Inn."
He chuckled, "That's where I'm staying. Room 307. Knock on my door when you're ready to go."
"I can do that. Meet you soon."
Maliki swiped his phone to clear the call and then called Poet.
"What?" The word was muffled. She sounded half asleep and pissed.
"Did I wake you?"
She groaned, "Who says I'm awake?"
He chuckled. "Guardian’s investigator is an hour away. He wants to visit the Doc's house before he meets with the new deputy in charge. Can you meet us there?"
"What time is it now?"
Maliki looked at his watch. "It's a little after one."
"Okay. What're you doing?"
"I'm still at my parents’."
"You should come over."
He chuckled and lowered his voice, "Why's that?"
The laugh she gave he'd heard before when they were alone and intimate, and it was fucking sexy. "I wanna beat you at Mario. Why do you think?" Sarcasm dripped from her tone like slow, sugary syrup.
He glanced at the library door to make sure he was still alone. "And here I thought you wanted my body."
"Oh, that? Well, okay, if you insist." A sexy, purr-like, sound crossed the connection.
Damn. "I insist. I'll see you in half an hour." He smiled when she said goodbye and tossed his phone into the air. Even with all the shit swirling around him, he'd found a small piece of Utopia, and fuck if he wasn't going to hold onto that sublime, blissful relationship as long as he possibly could.
He liked Poet. Hell, it was more than that. He was attracted to her in ways he hadn't been attracted to any woman before her. He stopped and thought for a minute. He ticked off the women he'd had any relationships with in the past, and damn, he was right. She was different, and he could list the reasons she was distinct and authentic. She had a wild sense of humor, a childlike wonder that hadn't been tainted by the harshness of the world, yet she was tough as nails and smart, shrewd, intelligent. She was irreverent and gave him shit all the time. Most women he dated were a variety of the same mold. Polite, socially acceptable, professional. Poet could play all those roles, and yet she spoke the same language he did, and had a shared military background that made them unusually compatible. Their differences were such that every minute with her provided a new revelation. Yeah, he'd embrace this contentment even as the world swirled around them. Hell, they both deserved a break.
Chapter 14
Poet dragged herself from the bed and into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and brushed her teeth. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her she’d clocked a solid three hours of sleep, about six hours too little, but she'd worked on less. She looked in the mirror and grimaced. The dark circles under her eyes were about as attractive as morning breath, but until she got some solid sleep, those charcoal colored slashes would be her new fashion statement.
She chortled at that thought. She had zero fashion sense. She wore jeans when she wasn't on duty and a uniform when she was. That left two dresses, three pairs of slacks and one blazer in her closet. Four long sleeve button downs completed her professional and going-on-a-date attire. Maybe she needed to go shopping? That thought went into the mental trashcan. She didn't need new clothes. It wasn't like she was going to need them, although she wondered if she'd change her mind if Maliki... but no, he was here for a short time, and they had a good arrangement. Those burgeoning thoughts of hearts and flowers were ill-advised.
She tugged on an oversized t-shirt and padded to the kitchen. She needed a caffeine infusion. Stat. It would be bad form to fall asleep during the middle of sex, although with the way that man moved, sleep would be the last thing she thought about. She placed her cup under the drip spout and started the machine. Leaning against the counter she sighed at the thought of his hard, muscled body. She was screwed because she really liked the guy. More than really liked him. Granted, it had started as purely sexual. She wasn't going to apologize for making moves on him that first night. She was an independent and sexually liberated woman. She could, and did, let men know when she was interested. But how do you let him know that the attraction has morphed into a desire for something more? Particularly when she’d been so emphatic about it being just sex.
Her coffee gurgled its last few drips into her cup. She cradled the warm mug in her hands for a moment before she took her first sip. Maybe more wasn't in the cards, but damn it, that man made her want it. Content in her life, she'd never really given much thought to sharing it with anyone. Marriage? A chuckle bubbled up. Not once had she dreamed of a white dress and a fancy wedding. Being a tomboy her entire life, outrunning the boys, out throwing them, being competitive and proving herself better, not equal to them, had been her focus. But now? Now she'd admit having someone to run with, not against, intrigued her. She'd never considered the possibility of finding that special someone who... She snorted a laugh into the empty kitchen. "He completes me."
Did you really just think that? Yes, yes, she did. As a matter of fact, those thoughts had coalesced since meeting Maliki Blue. He seemed to be the key to the new ideas. Of course, he was here temporarily. She took a sip of her coffee. Well, hell, as far as that went, she could be here temporarily, too. Depending on how the investigation shook out.
A soft knock on the door startled her. A glance at the microwave clock produced a smiled. She set the cup down and padded to the door. After lifting on her toes to see through the peep hole, she unlocked the door and swung it wide.
His eyes traveled down and then back up her body. The heat in his gaze brought forth a shiver of excitement. She lifted her foot and scratched her shin with her big toe. The t-shirt hiked up, exposing her thigh almost to her hip. His eyes followed the material’s movement and she smiled. "Ready to play games?"
He shook his head. "No. No games." He stepped in front of her, grabbed her waist and kicked the door shut behind them. He bent down, wrapped his arm around her thighs and hoisted her up. Scrambling to grab his shoulders and lock her ankles behind him, she dropped her head back and laughed. His mouth found her neck, and the humor of the situation turned to lust.
He walked toward the bedroom, holding her and kissing her neck and shoulder. His knee hit the mattress, and he leaned over the bed. She loosened her hold and dropped onto the cool sheets.
He lowered until he was on top of her, keeping most of his weight from crushing the breath from her. "You should be sleeping."
"I can sleep when I'm dead. You're worth losing a couple hours of rest." She ran her fingers through his beard.
He smiled. "You like my beard, don't you?"
She nodded; her eyes focused on what her fingers were doing. "I've never like beards, but there is something about you and this." A small tug on his beard brought him down to her lips again.
He reached over and found that half empty box of condoms and tossed a couple on the bed. His clothes and her t-shirt fell away in the midst of soft, slow touches, softer kisses, and eventually, deep penetrating thrusts. He allowed himself to feel the
way her body molded to his. The way her sighs and kisses not only surrendered to him, but also fueled him with more than desire. When he made her feel good, the small sounds she made drove him insane. The way her legs curled around him to keep him deep inside her, how her hips lifted to meet his thrusts—countless small things propelled this act of sex to something more.
He hadn't been looking for this––the emotion behind the act of sex. He'd given up thinking there might be someone for him. Poet could be that woman. She was magnificent in bed, her body in tune with his in ways no one else had ever been. He stared down at her, at the flush that painted her chest and neck, magnified her plump red lips, and those beautiful, expressive eyes. He held her gaze in a silent commune. He could see a lifetime with this woman. She would be worth the effort.
Her nails dug into his back, and her body clamped against him tightly. Eyes closed, he followed her over the edge. With his forehead resting on her shoulder and the weight of his upper body sagging on tired arms, he sucked panting breaths into his lungs.
Her fingers trailed over the muscles in his back. "It keeps getting better, doesn't it?"
He nodded. Not lifting his head from her shoulder, he replied, "It's because you’re falling for me. I warned you."
"That's true, you did—and I have. What was I thinking?"
He chuckled. "We weren't thinking, which is probably why it seems so easy. I agree. It’s rather unexpected."
Her fingers stopped trailing. "But... okay?"
The hesitant tremor in her voice brought him up so he could see her eyes. "Yes, I think so. Worth exploring at the very least."
She frowned at him and pouted, "Damn right I'm worth exploring. I'm fabulous, sexy and irresistible."
He laughed and nodded. "Obviously. You've snared me. Whatever will we do?"
"What? I would never trap you. You had your eyes wide open. Don't even think that I would use my seductive feminine attributes to entrap you." She sniffed in hauty mock derision.
"I apologize. You are fabulous, sexy and irresistible. So much more than I anticipated." He gazed down at her.
She traced his lips with her fingers, and he kissed the tips. "You're not staying."
"You might not be either." He dropped a kiss on her lips. "Look, we can worry, or we can move forward and see if what’s between us is going to last. When we know, we dictate what we want and make it happen."
"That easy, huh?" She tugged on his beard and brought him down for another kiss.
He lost himself in her taste for long minutes before they separated. "It could be that easy, if we want it to be." God, he really wanted it to be, but she needed to be on board.
"I want it to be easy. I want it to be good, and I want to see what is around the next corner—with you."
"So do I." He glanced over and groaned. "But we need to grab a shower and get over to the hotel."
She turned and lifted her head. "Damn."
"Yeah. Should we conserve water?" He waggled his eyebrows at her making her laugh.
"Do we have enough time?"
He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. "I have no idea. We agreed he’d drop by my room when he was ready."
She patted his back. "That will teach you. No ambiguity, Doctor Blue."
He grabbed her and rolled so she was on top of him. Her long auburn hair fell over them. "Lesson learned Deputy Campbell. You want the shower first?"
"No, but I'll take it." She dropped a loud smack of a kiss on his nose and slipped from his arms. He watched her stand, perfectly nude and gloriously beautiful. Her skin damn near glowed against her dark red hair. Her hips swung gently as she walked away from him. Yeah, he wanted to see what was around the next curve, too.
Maliki stood in the front room and waited for Poet. Evidently blow-drying hair was a process that took time. Finally, she walked from the bedroom. He glanced at her and smiled. The wait was worth it. She was beautiful. Obviously tired, but beautiful, nonetheless.
She stepped into his arms and put her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "I'm impressed by your awards. You were successful in the Air Force."
She turned and glanced at the one he'd been looking at. "Well, in hopes of not sounding vain, I guess I'm proud of who I am and of my accomplishments. I don't have a medical school diploma like you do, but I can look back at each of those achievements and say, I gave it everything I had. Sometimes knowing I did the best I could makes me feel… validated. What time do we have to meet the guy?" She covered a yawn.
He chuckled. "His name is Asher Hudson, and he'll be at my room by four at the latest. We should go." He brought her back into his chest and hugged her.
"Hard to go when you're holding me still."
"I think you could get away if you wanted."
"Who says I wanna get away? I kinda like it here." She snuggled closer, and he tightened his grip.
"This isn't getting us to the inn." He dropped his arms and grabbed her hand. "Come on, Deputy. Work calls."
His fingers intertwined with Poet’s, and he led her down the interior hallway of the Paintville Inn. It had been a hell of a long time since he felt this way. Smooth, with no rough, irritated edges. The snags, grit, knots, and coarseness of the world had been sanded away.
"I need about ten energy drinks." Her soft comment came as she leaned her forehead against his back when he stopped at his room and withdrew his magnetic card key.
He took a peek at her over his shoulder and caught her mid yawn. "You were the one who wanted to play the Mario Donkey thingy." He smiled, inserted his key.
"There was a donkey sized thingy involved, but it had nothing to do with Mario." Her laughter and a weak ass attempt at a swat at his shoulder had them both laughing. She followed him into the room and dropped onto the bed. She rolled over, taking the comforter with her, and cocooned herself. "Wake me when he gets here."
He glanced at the clock. If the guy was prompt, she could maybe grab a half hour power nap. He dropped into the one and only chair in the room and put his feet up on the bed. While he was tired, his mind wouldn't shut off. He glanced around his hotel room. There was nothing of himself here. Just like the small apartment back at The Rose. Nothing. Sure, he could paper the wall of that small apartment with military plaques, awards, diplomas, certificates from residency and internships, boxes full of laudatory commendations, and yet he hadn't bothered to display any of them. Perhaps it was because he didn't want to look back, exhume the bones of his past and examine them—resurrect memories he'd buried, or thought he had. He closed his eyes as memories flooded his mind. The regrets, the wrongs, the missed opportunities and the events he couldn't change but desperately wished he could. He remembered Poet's words and measured each event against those words. He had done the best he could. He opened his eyes, dropped his feet from the bed to the floor and leaned forward. He'd done the best he could. He stared at the door and thought of his father. Perhaps his old man had done the best he could, too.
Fuck. He needed to talk to his dad tomorrow morning, if his father was cognizant. He needed to let his father know he'd forgiven him. At the time, they'd both done the best they could do. The revelation and forgiveness, of himself and his father, cascaded over him in a wave.
Chapter 15
Poet's eyes popped open at a bracing knock on the door. It took a couple of seconds to remember she was in Maliki's hotel room. She rolled off the bed and brushed her hair into some semblance of order as Maliki walked to the door, flipped on the light and looked back at her. He cocked his head in question. She ran a hand down her shirt and smoothed her hair again before she nodded.
He opened the door and extended his hand. "Asher?"
"Maliki. Good to meet you. Jared is a common friend, I believe." A deep voice resonated through the room. The door blocked her view of the new Guardian.
"Yes. Please come in. I’d like you to meet Deputy Campbell. She's the one who brought us into this situation." He moved back and anoth
er massive man entered the room. He had to be at least six three, with black hair and hazel eyes. She moved forward and extended her hand. "Poet Campbell."
"Asher Hudson." He shook her hand. "Would it be possible to see the ME’s house before it gets dark?"
Poet waved his concern off. "Absolutely. Do you two want to follow me? We have a meeting with Carter Hopson, the deputy who has assumed the sheriff's responsibilities while he's gone."
"Perfect. If you don't mind, Doctor Blue, we'll take my vehicle. It has all my equipment in it."
"That works for me."
Asher put his hands on his hips. "Deputy, was there any indication why the sheriff would suddenly need to take vacation? Sick parents, siblings..."
"Honestly, I've been wondering that myself. His parents have passed. They died in a horrible accident years ago. From what I've been told, their heater stopped working during the middle of the night. His father used a portable gas heater and didn't vent it correctly. They died of carbon monoxide poisoning. I've never heard him mention any family. Even though we work together, we aren’t close. Talking about our families isn’t something we do." She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and thought about it. “Carter Hopson has been at the department the longest. He might know something." She glanced at her watch. "We've got an hour to look at the crime scene before we meet with him."
Asher nodded and gestured toward the door. "I'm ready when you are."
Poet drove into the office lot, parked and exited her vehicle. Rain threatened, and she didn't want to get caught in a downpour. Maliki and Asher had been caught by one of the town’s three stoplights and would arrive shortly. They'd spent a little less than an hour at Doc Giles' home. Asher walked through the house, asked a few questions and inspected the garage carefully. He'd agreed with Maliki. Based on the lack of chair, box or anything to use as a step to get to the rope, the death was not only suspicious, but one he'd consider a homicide. The doctor's autopsy was scheduled for tomorrow morning, and they should know then if Maliki's belief about the injuries not being consistent with hanging was correct.
Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2) Page 19
