Lucky and the Electrocuted Ex

by Emmy Grace

  “You tricked me.”

  “Me?” he asks with the innocence of a pit viper.

  “You’re a mean, mean man, Liam Dunning.” I step aside so he can come in and then I close the door behind him. “How did you know?”

  “I told you,” he says as he takes two steps into the room and then turns to face me. “I know you.”

  “Well, know me or not, you’re not going to stop me. I have to do this. To clear my name.”

  “Who says I came here to stop you?”

  He’s close now. He’s standing less than a foot away, towering over me. His face is so close. Just a step away and I’d be kissing him.

  Distracting.

  That’s what he is.

  Distracting.

  “Then what do you want?”

  He reaches up to tuck a piece of hair that escaped my bun back behind my ear. “Can’t I just want you?”

  Holy Lord.

  I gulp.

  “Yes, but right now isn’t exactly the best time.”

  “Are you saying you’d rather go risk your freedom by doing things the wrong way than spending the night with me and letting me handle them the right way?”

  I narrow my eyes on him. “Oh, you’re good. You’re very good.” I take a step back. A necessary one. He’s already made my brain foggy, even though I have no intention of telling him that. “But I’m not falling for it.”

  He lets his hand drop and gives me his best “what am I going to do with you, young lady” glare.

  “Don’t you trust me to fix this?”

  Is that a hint of hurt in his voice?

  “Of course, I do. But when it was your life on the line, did you stop investigating?”

  To this, he says nothing.

  “Ah-ha! See? It’s not just me. It’s the way people like us are made. We have to get to the bottom of things. It’s like a need. Like breathing and eating and…”

  One midnight brow twitches up. “And…?”

  “Dirty,” I pronounce with mock censure. But even so, a pleasant heat floods my cheeks.

  This man… Good grief.

  “You’re stubborn,” he says softly.

  “So are you.”

  He huffs in quiet humor. “We make quite the pair then.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Will you at least let me go with you? Someone needs to have your back. I’m assuming Regina is sitting this one out after the ditch debacle today?”

  “How did you—? Never mind. Yes, she’s at home, awaiting her prince charming.”

  “Then let me be yours. I promise my steed is at your disposal.”

  I think my mind went into the gutter when the car went into the ditch. Or maybe it’s just because it’s nighttime. I seem to have trashy thoughts after sunset.

  Well, before sunset, too.

  Sometimes first thing in the morning.

  Now that I think about it, I believe Liam might be making me slutty.

  And I’m strangely okay with that.

  Just not right this minute.

  I can’t help swooning, though. He wants to be my prince charming.

  “God, that’s so romantic. And sexy. And…” I shake my head to clear it. “But not right now. Right now, I need surly Liam. I need practical, dangerous, ex-FBI Liam.”

  “That Liam wouldn’t want you breaking the law.”

  “You turned a blind eye before.”

  “Because I thought you were crazy.”

  “You still think I’m crazy.”

  “True, but now I care about what happens to you.”

  My heart melts.

  That’s why I grab him by his big shoulders and push with all my might to turn him toward the door and shove him through it. “I think you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and don’t take this the wrong way, but get out of my house and go home.”

  When I finally get him onto the porch, I’m about to sweat despite the cool temperature. He’s a big guy, and I know if he had truly resisted, I wouldn’t have been able to budge him.

  Phew.

  I lock the door behind us and make my way past him, intent on driving to the block away from the Inn, parking my car alongside the gas station, and walking the rest of the way.

  Before I can step off the porch, Liam grabs my hand and yanks me back. I sort of wobble and twirl and almost fall, but he catches me in his strong arms.

  And then his lips are on mine. They’re hungry.

  And, suddenly, so am I.

  When he finally eases me upright and releases my mouth, I’m almost dizzy.

  “Please be careful,” he says quietly.

  “I can’t even walk a straight line now, thank you very much, and don’t even pretend like you won’t follow me. Which is actually fine. Just don’t interfere.”

  He nods once. Doesn’t even try to deny it. “Done.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  “Unless you need help. Then I’ll interfere.”

  “I won’t need help. I’ve done this a thousand times. I could get in and out of there in my sleep.”

  “You’re Lucky, right?”

  “Exactly. I’m Lucky. What could possibly go wrong?”

  Why do I keep tempting fate that way?

  15

  Even though I speed to get there, I’m two minutes late arriving at the Spring Water Inn. Fortunately, people are just starting to file out the front door and onto the sidewalk when I break through the trees that border the Inn’s property on the south side.

  I hunker down and slink along the dark hedge, and then dart across to the rear staff entrance of the building. I listen at the door for a few seconds before opening it. I can hear murmuring and shuffling. No doubt employees grumbling at having to exit the building over “a prank” as one complained.

  I feel kinda bad, but only for about two and a half seconds. Then I’m slipping through the door and creeping down the hall toward room 104.

  The doors at the Inn are equipped with those irritating things that snap the lock into place when the door is closed unless you stop it from closing completely, which you can do by sliding that little kickstand-looking thing into place. I’m hoping that most of the patrons, but one in particular, had the foresight to do that rather than grabbing her key.

  When I get to the mouth of the hallway, my hopes are dashed. I can see that the door isn’t ajar at all, but, rather, closed snugly instead. That trollop must’ve been calm enough to take her key or her purse, or both.

  I’m muttering under my breath as I hurry back down the hall toward reception. I can only hope that Paul has spare keys in all of the little room cubbies behind the desk.

  I pause before passing in front of the doors, glancing out into the night to make sure no one is looking back into the Inn. All I see are a bunch of people milling around, staring at the upper floors of the building. I’m glad Paul put Beebee and Momma Leona up there. I’m sure there’s still smoke coming from the window she cracked in her room.

  I’ll pat myself on the back later for a brilliant plan, but right now, I’ve still got a ways to go in pulling it off without getting nipped.

  I fly across to the curved reception desk and duck behind it. I shuffle around in a squat until I can get to the bank of tiny boxes. Each one has a brass label beneath it boasting a different room a number. The row for the first floor is nearest the bottom and JACKPOT! There’s a spare key in it.

  I smother a yip of victory as I reach up to snatch it and make my way back out from behind the desk, quickly retracing my footsteps to the room in question.

  I work the key into the lock and sneak inside, closing the door behind me. I can almost hear the precious seconds ticking away as I bring out my flashlight and scan the room for where Sassy McButthole keeps her shoes.

  I check the closet first, but it’s empty. Clearly, she’s the type that lives out of her suitcase. Not that it’s a bad thing. I do it, too. I just hate having anything in common with her. The fact that we both dated Gavin is more than en
ough.

  I rush to the giant suitcase that’s propped on one of those portable X shaped stands. This girl doesn’t believe in traveling light.

  Neither do I.

  Another commonality.

  Dang it.

  I put the thought out of my head and start rifling through Sassy’s personal belongings. On the one hand, it feels scummy and intrusive. On the other hand, my freedom hangs in the balance, so it seems necessary.

  I go with what’s necessary.

  Duh.

  I lift clothes and feel around in the suitcase for anything out of the ordinary. I find nothing. Not even cosmetics, which I assume are in the bathroom. I don’t find shoes either, even though I know for a fact that she came here with some. At least two pair. The boots I saw her wearing and the shoes she ran through the forest wearing. Because I’m convinced there’s no way in a thousand hells that she could’ve traversed the woods in her goofy high-heeled boots without breaking her neck. And as far as I know, she’s still alive and unbroken-necked, so…two pair.

  She could be wearing the comfy ones now, since she was ousted from her hotel room at such a late hour, but that doesn’t explain where the boots went.

  My suspicions rise.

  Did she get rid of them? Because if she did, she might as well have painted the word guilty across her forehead.

  I shuffle more thoroughly through Sassy’s luggage, and still come up empty handed. That’s when I turn my search to every other corner of the room. I check the closet again, even up on the shelf. I check under the bed and under the desk. I even check the bathroom. Weird, yes, but…

  No boots.

  There’s no sign of them anywhere.

  “Gotcha,” I whisper smugly.

  Only…

  Do I?

  If I can’t produce the boots and the police can’t find the boots, then there would have to be another way to tie Sassy to the scene of the murder. And I haven’t found another way. All my eggs—or, well, my one egg is in Sassy’s basket.

  Okay, that sounded dirty, but it’s true. The boots are all I have. And without them…

  Back to square one.

  I search the room again. Still, I don’t turn up a single boot.

  I gasp and hit the floor, belly down, when the door suddenly flies open and light floods the room.

  “Lucky?”

  It’s Liam.

  I poke my head up to peek at him over the bed. “What the heck are you doing in here?” I clamber onto my feet. “And how did you get in?”

  He holds up a key as the door falls shut. “You left the key in the door.”

  “Oh.”

  Crap.

  “Still think you don’t need my help?”

  “Actually, I might’ve been a little hasty.”

  Even in the low light, I can see one of Liam’s arched brows snap up in the landscape of his face. “Is that right?”

  “Don’t be a butt about it,” I caution as I make my way to him.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “We can talk about it later. We need to get out of here before they come back.”

  “That’s one reason I came to find you. The smoke had already stopped by the time the fire department arrived. One of the other patrons pointed out Beebee’s window. They found the cherry bomb almost immediately. Said it must’ve been a prank.”

  “Since when do they respond so fast?”

  “They’re firefighters. It’s kind of important to act quickly.”

  “I know, but this is Salty Springs. When was the last fire? 1902?”

  “Probably. But they still train every day.”

  “I thought it was a volunteer fire department.”

  “It is, but what else is there to do?”

  “Good point.”

  There’s a brief pause. “So, you ready? We need to get out of here.”

  “Oh, right. Yes. Let’s go.”

  Liam cracks the door and listens out into the hall. When it’s obvious that there are voices coming from inside the Inn, he grabs my hand and whizzes me out the door and down the hall in a flash. We’re around the corner and out the employee door before you can say spit.

  When we are safely tucked into the shadows along the back side of the old house, he turns to me and grins in satisfaction. “And that’s how it’s done.”

  “I didn’t find the boots,” I blurt.

  “I know.”

  His response surprises me. “What? You know? What does that mean?”

  “It means I know you didn’t find them.”

  “And how could you possibly know that?”

  “Uh, because I saw her standing outside. She was wearing them.”

  “Wearing them? At eleven o’clock at night?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe she sleeps in ‘em. Who knows?”

  “But there were no other shoes in her room.”

  “So?”

  “So, she brought only one pair, and managed to run through the woods in them without killing herself?”

  “Some women can move really well in heels like that.”

  “Yeah, they’re called Fembots. Real women can’t run in stilettos. It’s unnatural.”

  “Maybe she got rid of the other shoes.”

  “But why? They weren’t the ones that could point to her in relation to a murder.”

  “Then what other explanation is there?”

  “There are others, like maybe she borrowed someone else’s. Or even ran barefoot.”

  “And you think those are more likely than her being able to run in heels?”

  I jack up my chin. “What if I do?”

  “Did you consider the possibility that maybe she’s not the killer?”

  I was really hoping he wouldn’t bring that up. “Yes, but I won’t exclude her until I can get a look at those boots. If there’s any evidence of that sandy, gravelly stuff on them, we’ll know it was her.”

  “And if there’s not?”

  “I guess I’ll worry about that then.” I take a deep breath and start off toward my car. Liam is close behind me. “If only I weren’t the most logical primary suspect and Clive could get a warrant for her shoes.”

  “All those pesky rules to protect the innocent.”

  I stop and spin to face him. “Do you think she’s innocent?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you didn’t not say that.”

  “I think it seems pretty…thin. That’s all.”

  “Why does it have to be thick?”

  “I think you’re just too close to this to see it objectively.”

  That ticks me off. I cross my arms over my chest and shift my weight to one leg. “Oh, and just how do you see it?”

  That’s the thing about Liam. He cares about me, obviously, but he’s still gruff, pragmatic Liam. He just tells me like it is.

  “I think you’re overestimating her ability to move nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight, much less drag him to a car, get him into it, and then get him out of said car and into position at the quarry.”

  I’m irritated by his assertion, but as soon as he says the words, I realize that he’s right. On all counts. I’m too close to this. I’m not seeing clearly. Sassy is about my size and it would be very hard for me to do all that. And not get caught. Or leave a blazing trail of evidence.

  I drop my face into my hands. “Oh, God!”

  After a couple of seconds, I feel Liam’s strong arms come loosely around me. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I mumble through my fingers.

  “You weren’t exactly in the mood to listen to reason, if you remember.”

  At that, I raise my head and meet his eyes. “When am I ever? And when has that stopped you before?”

  “I’m trying to be a little more sensitive to your…eccentricities.”

  “Eccentricities?” I practically screech the word. It makes me sound like a total flake.

  “I don
’t mean that in a bad way. You have your way, and clearly it works. You’ve solved how many cases since you’ve been here?”

  I let my ruffled feathers smooth out and lay back down. “Probably more than Clive has in his whole life.”

  “Exactly. That wasn’t an insult. Everyone has their own methods. Yours are just different than mine. But that’s one of the things I like most about you. You’re nothing like me.”

  “And, thankfully, you’re nothing like me. Or we’d probably both be in jail.”

  “Can’t argue that,” he says dryly.

  I slap his chest. “So, what now?”

  “Who do we know that would have the strength to pull off something like this? I think that’s a good place for you to start.”

  My list of suspects is short.

  Extremely short.

  Like one.

  But that one wasn’t a viable suspect. Not really. So now there needs to be another. And the only one that makes sense also makes no sense whatsoever.

  “Gavin’s dad?”

  Liam pulls back, shrugging one big shoulder. “It sounds harsh, but believe me, it happens more than you’d think.”

  “But if a man were to do something like that to his son, what would be his motive? I mean, his own son? That’s…that’s just crazy.”

  “People can be unbelievably selfish and cruel.”

  I stare up into Liam’s eyes. They glow pale in the silvery light of the moon. “You’ve seen a lot of bad stuff, haven’t you?”

  “More than I want to think about.”

  “You know, you can tell me anything, right? If you ever need to talk about it, any of it, I’m here for you.”

  “You’re a therapist now?”

  “What? I’m an excellent listener. And that’s all they do. They just ask leading questions and listen to people blather on about their problems.”

  “That easy, huh?”

  “Of course.”

  “Um-hmm,” he hums doubtfully. “Well, lucky for you, hell would have to freeze over before I’d do that to you.”

  “Why? I want to know all of you. Even the bad stuff.”

  For the first time since I’ve known him, Liam’s face shows a tiny hint of the weight he carries. His expression turns sad. For just a few seconds, I see what his service to the FBI cost him. “I don’t want you to know that side of the world. I much prefer the way you see it. Full of light and life and hope and possibility.”