Finding Home

by Rachel Smith

  Something.

  Anything.

  My God, if he would just… “Touch me, Alex.” I jolted at the sound of my voice; unaware I’d even said the words out loud until I heard them.

  “I am touching you.”

  “Touch me more,” I pleaded. He released my nipple, looked up and raised his eyebrows. “And I should listen to you because, why?”

  I growled. A deep growl which literally bubbled up from my chest and out my mouth.

  “Oh, my little firecracker,” he teased as his lips continued their trek down my torso. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you.”

  “I’ll tell you what you can do to me.”

  I felt him smile against my skin. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

  Raising up to my elbows, I glared. “Well, you can shut up and fuck me, for one.”

  Alex stilled. All kisses, movement, talking. Everything stopped. I didn’t break my glare, not even a flinch as his eyes bored into mine. I held my ground, determined to beat him at his own game.

  He didn’t even look away when he reached down to the floor and grabbed his pants, pulling a foil wrapper from his wallet. With his eyes still on mine and knees to the mattress, he rolled the condom on in one swift move. Then, with both hands on my hips, he flipped me.

  “Holy crap,” I wheezed, shocked that he could so easily toss me around.

  He tugged my hips and suddenly I was up on all fours. He slowly ran his hand up my spine, buried it in my hair and pulled until I was up on just my knees, my back flush against his chest. Leaning forward, his grip tightened as he whispered in my ear, “Your wish is my command,” before giving me a scorching kiss. It was short, wet, and quite possibly the hottest kiss I’d ever had in my whole life. With my hair still wrapped around his hand, his lips still resting against mine, he muttered, “Now hold the fuck on.”

  I felt my eyes roll back in my head as he lined himself up and entered me. My inner walls contracted around him, gripping him like a vise as he pushed forward. My hands shot out after the first thrust. I grasped the headboard to steady myself as he powered on.

  Thrust after powerful thrust.

  A moan fell from my lips. My God, the feel of him, the force behind those hips. It was so deep in this position, so raw and unbridled. I swear I could feel him all the way up to my throat.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since we were out on the street,” he said through clenched teeth. I’d just turned to look over my shoulder when his palm cracked against my ass. My muscles clenched from the strike, my skin stung.

  Yet, it was oddly arousing.

  Before I knew it, an orgasm slammed into me. It hit me with no warning, like a bolt of lightning flashed out of nowhere. My back arched, my calf muscles cramped. Every cell in my body simultaneously detonated.

  Alex followed close behind, a loud roar ripped from his throat as he poured himself into the condom. We fell to the bed in a heap of sated limbs. My body completely spent; I couldn’t move if I wanted.

  When I finally caught my breath, the realization of what just happened sank in. I’d never been so brazen before, wanting anything more than the normal missionary position after a bit of foreplay.

  I suddenly felt embarrassed, ashamed.

  Dirty.

  I freaking loved the shit out of it.

  “You okay?” Alex looked concerned.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He rolled to his back, cradling me against the side of his hard body. My head rested against his chest, one arm across his stomach.

  We lay in silence then, completely still except for the soft stroke of Alex’s fingertips against my arm. With my head on his chest, I could hear his heartbeat in my ear. A steady thump in sync with the soft ‘tick-tock’ of the clock on my bedroom wall.

  Before long, the quiet cadence lulled me to sleep.

  Without any apologies or explanations about what happened. Without talking through what happened out on the street or the way Alex spoke to me. Without working through the anxiety that lingered about letting Alex manhandle me in the bedroom.

  And without knowing what sat on my kitchen table, hidden in the pile of mail, waiting for me to find it.

  16

  Alex

  The quiet stillness of Lizzie’s bedroom slowly calmed the angry beast inside me. I could watch this woman sleep for hours.

  So peaceful.

  So innocent.

  So opposite of the filth that lived just down the street.

  My God, I’d wanted to throttle her earlier. All she had to do was listen to me and get her ass inside the house. Instead, that smart mouth of hers kicked in. Not only did she purposely defy me, but she did it in front of that shitstain, Johnny Trellis, which he took as a green light to lay on the nasty comments.

  Sometimes I forgot she led a completely different life than me. Mine had been spent around rough and tough men. Officers. Soldiers. Lizzie was the farthest thing from them. She was all soft skin, curves, easy smiles, and dorky comments. While I was dealing with the trashy thugs of the area, her biggest concern each day was if the numbers on her spreadsheet add up or not. No one died. No one got hurt.

  They were numbers, not worthless lowlifes.

  I guess to be in a relationship with her—an actual relationship and not just fucking around—I couldn’t treat her like my property. Because that was what this was, right? A relationship?

  I shifted my body to face her. Mouth slightly parted, eyelashes fanned gently against her cheeks as she slept, my stomach bottomed out. This woman beside me totally rocked my world. Awkward and nerdy and adorable as hell, she had it all. Everything I ever wanted all wrapped up in this cute little firecracker. And knowing her feistiness, she’d kick my ass to the curb if I kept up the caveman attitude.

  I flopped onto my back, careful not to disturb her. If she just would’ve listened when I’d told her to get in the house. I didn’t want her anywhere near Johnny Trellis. That asshole didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as my Liz.

  Especially after everything I learned about him from Brandon.

  I ran my hand down my face, feeling the gruff prickles of my five o’clock shadow against my palm. I still couldn’t believe Brandon offered up all the information he did. I knew he was scared to spill, but once he got going and let it all hang out, there was no stopping him. Maybe he’d seen the error of his ways after getting arrested, knowing that mark would be on his record permanently. Or maybe it was guilt because his mother’s murder case had gone cold.

  Who knows?

  In a small town like Glenview, it didn’t seem possible. There were only so many possibilities as to who could’ve done it. And after hearing about Paul Waters’ half-ass attempt at selling pot for Johnny Trellis, I knew the drugs and the murder were somehow connected.

  They had to be.

  “Dad got greedy,” Brandon had said. “He sold the first couple batches easily. He told me it would just be to get a little extra money because he was planning a big surprise for Mom. But then he tried it, liked how it made him feel and couldn’t let it go. When the time came to pay up, Dad had smoked all the product and had nothing to give Johnny.”

  What an asshole.

  I sat up and flung my legs over the side of the bed, letting my feet hit the hardwood floor in Lizzie’s bedroom. I didn’t want to wake her, but with everything swirling around in my head I couldn’t sit still.

  I padded through the house, into the kitchen to see if I could scrounge something up for dinner. I found a package of chicken in the refrigerator, along with a variety of vegetables. I could chop this shit up and throw it in a pan.

  Good enough.

  Setting myself up at the kitchen counter after washing the food, I began to chop, letting my mind once again wander.

  Paul Waters had started on the small stuff. Brandon told me after he couldn’t pay for the batch of pot he smoked; Johnny offered
him an alternative. A chance to recoup his money and then some.

  “I’m not an idiot. I may be just a kid but I have seen a movie or two so I know what blow is,” he’d admitted. “Dad had bags and bags of that shit.”

  “Jesus,” I whispered as I sliced the chicken and tossed it into the pan. Paul Waters really was the epitome of white trash. Smoked all the product of one drug, so why the hell not try to sell something different?

  Fucking moron.

  “He didn’t sell all of that either, did he?” I had asked.

  I’ll never get the image of Brandon shaking his head ‘no’ as tears welled in his eyes out of my head. “That’s when he offered me up instead.”

  I brought the knife down on the red pepper with more force than necessary, almost slicing off my finger in the process. Letting the knife drop to the cutting board, I took a step back. I needed to rein in my shit before Lizzie woke up. I had to learn to leave work behind and just be with her at home. I knew once she woke up, we had to talk about what happened out on the street, and in the bedroom. But with not being able to tell her everything going on with Johnny, how could I get her to stay the hell away from him?

  “Damnit,” I whispered and took a deep breath.

  “You pissed at the vegetables, too?”

  I whirled around to see Lizzie standing just inside the kitchen wearing only my T-shirt. The hem hit her just above the knee. Her lips tipped up into a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Did they not follow orders either?”

  My shoulders sagged as I turned back to the counter and scooped the chopped vegetables into the pan. With more force than necessary, I set the cutting board in the sink, causing the metal knife to slide down and then clink against the stainless steel.

  “Are you going to talk to me? Or keep slamming shit around my kitchen?”

  I twisted to face her, but she’d already turned her back as she leafed through the mail.

  “I don’t want you around that guy,” I said.

  She held the pile of mail in one hand, flipping through each piece before she dropped it on the table.

  “Oh really? I hadn’t gotten that impression earlier.” She flipped over an envelope, inspecting it carefully before opening it. “Huh, you should be more obvious next time.”

  Taking a deep breath, I said softly, “I just didn’t expect to care this much.”

  That caught her off guard. And me, too. Her fingers froze on the envelope in her hand and she lifted her head to look at me.

  “What?” she breathed when our eyes met.

  I stepped closer, needing to touch her, to be near her. Needing the reassurance that I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. It was soon, yeah, but that didn’t stop me.

  “Something clicked inside when I met you, Lizzie. And I’m not talking about the fact that you were flustered and cute as all hell when I pulled you over. I’m not talking about the way I needed to take care of you that night you were hammered in the bar. What I’m talking about is the fact that you’re smart, you’re funny, and you go absolutely wild when I touch you. Now, that being said, babe, you’ve also got to understand that my feelings are different than how another man might feel. My reactions are more intense because of the job I do every day. I know shit going down in town that is not good, not by a long shot. So please, honey, I’m begging you to let me in. Trust me that I’m only doing what’s best for you, for us. And that means not having anything to do, ever, with Johnny Trellis. You understand?”

  The color drained from her cheeks as she stared at me. “Lizzie, I need to know you get me, babe.”

  “I got you,” she whispered, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “Now come over here and kiss me.”

  Immediately responding, she took two steps and threw her arms around my neck, planting her lips against mine. I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close, craving her touch, longing to prove everything I just said about the way I felt was true.

  When she pulled back, I didn’t let go. I felt her lips tip up into a smile against my own. “You better get back to the food. I’m hungry.”

  I gave her backside a playful swat when I finally released her. “On it, boss.”

  She winked and finished opening the envelope while I turned back to the stove to check on the food.

  “So I was thinking,” she started, and then… silence.

  “Yeah?” I prompted.

  Still nothing. As I pulled the stir-fry off the burner, I looked over my shoulder and my heart sank.

  “What?” I snapped. “What is it?”

  She didn’t move. Not to blink, not to breathe, nothing. The paper fell from her hand, floating gently to the kitchen floor. “Lizzie, talk to me, baby.”

  “I didn’t know,” she whispered, finally raising her eyes until they met mine. The pain I saw in hers gutted me. “I didn’t know he was married. Not until she caught us that day.”

  “You didn’t know who was married?”

  She stood still, slowly shaking her head back and forth. The vacant look in her eyes worried me. I looked down to the paper on the ground, facing up so I could read the words scrawled in red marker.

  Home-wrecking bitch. You’ll pay for what you did.

  “Why would Veronica feel the need to torment me now, after all this time? I’m not in his life anymore. I left town. So, why?”

  My hand moved up and down her back, hoping to soothe her. “I don’t know, honey, but I can guarantee you I will find out.” I stepped in front of her and bent so I could look directly into her eyes. “To do that, Lizzie, I need you to tell me everything, okay? Don’t leave anything out. No secrets, no lies. I will not judge you one bit, but I need you to tell me who Veronica is and why you’d think she sent this to you.”

  She nodded, tears still pouring from her eyes. It killed me to see her hurting.

  “This isn’t going to be fun, sweetheart, and I’m guessing by what little you’ve said so far, it’s not going to be fun for me to hear either. But I need to know. You need to tell me so I can find out who sent this.”

  “Okay,” she said and bent to pick up the paper.

  “Wait!” Grabbing her arm, I pulled her away. “Let me bag that. I’ll get it down to the station and see if we can pull any prints.”

  I led her to the couch. When we sat down, I maneuvered her on top of me, a leg on either side of my hips. “Okay,” I whispered, my hands against her cheeks, forcing her to look into my eyes. “Tell me.”

  She nodded once, closed her eyes to take a deep breath, and then started.

  Every muscle in my body tensed as her story unfolded. I’d been right earlier when I said it wouldn’t be easy for her to tell. She’d been burned, betrayed, and then hung out on her own to handle the repercussions from Erik’s wife.

  I was also right that it wasn’t easy to hear. It killed knowing this guilt had been eating her inside. Hell, she left Chicago because that asshole took advantage of her. Erik was the one who was married. He should’ve known better than to get involved with his employee… especially when he wasn’t available in the first place.

  Still, the cop in me suspected something wasn’t quite right about this whole situation. She’d told me the wife, Veronica, was the one who found them. Months had passed since then, so why send a note like this now? It’s not fresh news to her.

  Which means someone else is involved. Someone close to either Erik or Veronica, who just figured out Lizzie’s connection to them.

  But to send a threatening letter? Seriously?

  Seemed a little steep for infidelity.

  Later that night, after Liz crashed on the couch during a movie, I took the bagged note and envelope down to the station. I had filled Raftzen in on my way there and he assured me they would check for prints and run background checks on this Erik guy and his wife.

  “Thanks, man.” I clapped Alan on the back when we were finished and made my way to the door. “I owe you one.”

  “Don’t mention it.” />
  I nodded, thankful he was a nice guy.

  “She shook up?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you?”

  “No,” I lied. Truth was, I didn’t like this shit one bit. She already lived down the street from pure trash, and now someone else was after my girl.

  Thankfully, Alan let it go and got back to work.

  “Later,” I mumbled, and had almost made it out of the station when Raftzen called my name. I turned to see him standing at the top of the stairs that led into the station. “You check this envelope over before you brought it in?”

  I froze. What was on the damn envelope? “No, why?”

  He looked down at his boots. One hand settled at his hip while the other rubbed across the back of his neck.

  “Damn it, Alan,” I prodded. “Tell me what’s written on the…”

  “It’s blank,” he blurted, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Blank? “This note wasn’t mailed, man. Besides Elizabeth’s name on the front, the rest of the envelope is blank. No return address, no postage, nothing.”

  “Son of a bitch,” I hissed.

  Alan looked troubled, nervous even, when he opened his mouth and said, “Someone had to have…” He paused, his eyes focused directly on mine. “Someone physically put this in her mailbox.”

  17

  Lizzie

  I adjusted the height of my chair, trying to find that perfect sweet spot. The place where I wasn’t too low or too high. Where I could cross my legs without jamming my knee into my desk each time.

  I’d been officially set up in my office for two weeks and I still hadn’t found it.

  “Damn thing,” I huffed as I blew a stray hair out of my face.

  Sitting back against the plush leather of the chair, I looked around the room. My college degree from the University of Iowa hung perfectly straight on the wall. Framed behind the crystal-clear glass, it held a place of pride above my desk.

  I’d painted the walls a soft mushroom color. Accentuated with the dark wood of my office furniture, it created a warm, cozy atmosphere.