Gilded Craving: Cowboy Justice Association (Serials and Stalkers Book 3)

by Olivia Jaymes

  "I can get along if you wouldn't always bring up the past."

  He didn't want to talk about the past? Fine. She could deal with that.

  "Okay, let's talk about the present. Tell me about your new job and how you're going to find out who killed Brad."

  Because even Ryan Beck was going to have his hands full with trying to solve a murder from over a decade ago.

  7

  Ryan had conveniently forgotten how challenging being around Mariah could be. She didn't take any of his crap and never had. On more than one occasion, his own mother had advised him to seek out an easier to be with girlfriend.

  Funny, they hadn't argued that much but he'd often be frustrated by her stubborn nature. She'd accused him of being bull-headed but she was no innocent angel either. He used to swear that if he said the sky was blue she'd argue that it was actually a shade of green. She was contrary like that although she would have just told him that he wasn't right all the time.

  He'd never thought that he was. Right?

  I didn't. I'm sure of it.

  Toward the end of their relationship, their disagreements had become more frequent until they'd mutually ended it. Their lives were heading into completely different directions - him a cop and her an artist. It hadn't been an easy decision but in the long run he was positive it had been the right thing to do. They couldn't have made it work in the long term no matter how much in love they were. Wasn't that what everyone always said? Love alone isn't enough. A couple had to have more.

  But this was Mariah. The one person he'd never bullshitted in his life about anything. She'd asked him a straight question. He didn't have a good reason for not answering honestly.

  "I don't know," he finally confessed after taking a sip of the wine. He wasn't a big red wine drinker but this wasn't bad. "I don't know how I'm going to find out what happened to Brad. We don't even know that anyone killed him yet, remember? It could have been an accident."

  He was hoping that was the case.

  "Do you think it was an accident?"

  "I don't know enough about the case to give an answer," he said honestly. "I’ll know more when I see the case file and evidence tomorrow. I might have an opinion then."

  Mariah's gaze was on her wine glass, studying the contents. "I keep thinking back to that night. I can't get it out of my mind since we heard they found Brad."

  "Me too."

  Her head jerked up, her green eyes bright with tears. Even weepy, she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman with her long dark hair and curvy figure. She wasn't fashion model tall but somehow she managed to have legs that went on for days. Right now, they were bared and golden by a tattered pair of running shorts.

  "What do you remember about that night? Sometimes I think that my memories are all messed up and that I'm not thinking about it straight. What do you remember?"

  Images from that night crowded his brain. He'd spent so much time thinking about that night after it happened and then he'd pushed it away for a long time. It had all come roaring back though since his meeting with Logan. He couldn't get away from the past.

  Hell, his past was standing across from him right now.

  "I remember that it was raining," he began, letting the memories take him back. "There was a thunderstorm and you don't like lightning and thunder."

  "Lots of people don't like storms."

  Mariah didn't have to be defensive. She had a terrible fear of storms after getting caught in one while walking her dog when she was about eight. Her parents had driven the neighborhood looking for her and found her wet and crying, huddled under a tree and hugging her dog. She always tried to act like storms didn't bother her, but he knew that they did.

  "That's true. Many people don't like them."

  "I just didn't want to get my new shoes wet."

  They'd briefly disagreed about going out. Mariah hadn't wanted to at first but he'd talked her into it, reminding her that they wouldn't stay late. They had a plane to catch in the morning.

  "But I convinced you to go."

  "Yes, and we did have a good time."

  They had but back then it had been easy to have fun. They'd been young and their friends, music, and a few drinks were all it took to entertain them.

  "We got there after everyone else," Ryan went on. "Brad was already there along with the rest of our friends."

  By the time they'd arrived, the rain had luckily stopped but the bad weather had kept the crowd down in the bar. Normally, it was packed shoulder to shoulder.

  "Trent and Caroline were on the dance floor," Mariah said. "Because Brad didn't like to dance."

  Caroline and Brad had been an item of sorts, dating on and off for years, although the latter had been a rotten boyfriend.

  "Brad just didn't think he looked cool when he danced," Ryan said. "And for good reason. He was a lousy dancer. Brad and Dan were doing shots, I think."

  "Sex on the beach shots," Mariah agreed. "Because we were all going to Hawaii the next day. Dan ordered us shots too. Carl and Theo, however, weren't doing shots. They were playing pool in the corner. Mike was watching and he was going to play the winner."

  Carl didn't like to drink much because alcoholism ran in his family. His dad might be the president of a huge bank but he was also a drunk. A mean one. Carl had spent as much time as possible away from home.

  Mike had always been a cautious person and that night was no exception. From what Ryan could remember, his friend - and now brother in law - had nursed a couple of beers all night. From what Mike had said on the plane the next day, he'd left soon after Ryan and Mariah.

  Theo was like Mike in that respect. He didn't binge drink like so many young people, keeping to a few beers all night and maybe doing a shot or two. On his birthday, he'd thrown caution to the wind and ended up drunker than a skunk and puked most of the next morning. Since then, he'd been wary as hell.

  Dan and Brad? They were the original party animals. They'd start pre-gaming at home before they even headed out to a bar. They loved rowdy crowds, loud music, easy women, and lots of booze. As far as they were concerned, life was one never ending party and last call just meant they had to move to a new location.

  "We had a table in the corner," Ryan said. "Dan and Brad were knocking back shots as fast as the waitress could bring them. At one point, Caroline came over and tried to get Brad to leave but he wouldn't go."

  "She knew she was wasting her time," Mariah replied. "Brad never did anything he didn't want to do."

  "I'd say we were all like that."

  More than a little spoiled.

  "He had it down to an art form though, and you would know. You went to boarding school with him. Didn't you say he was constantly in trouble?"

  Ryan didn't have to tell anyone because Brad would brag about it. He'd loved playing pranks and breaking rules. In fact, he went out of his way to break rules.

  Even the Bro Code Rules.

  "He's lucky he didn't get punched in the mouth more often."

  "You're thinking about that night. It wasn't a big deal. I handled it."

  "You shouldn't have had to handle it at all. He should have known better."

  They both knew what night Ryan was thinking about. It had been Spring Break and their families had rented houses in the Caribbean - all in a row. The adults had shuttled the teenagers off into one house so they could make noise and wouldn't bother the grownups. To this day, Ryan couldn't believe his parents and the others had done that. He sure as hell wouldn't be doing anything like that with his kids. It was asking for trouble.

  Brad, as usual, was being a jerk to Caroline, flirting outrageously with other girls and generally being a dick. She'd finally had enough, slapped his face, and stomped out, taking several of her friends with her. Eventually Brad had camped out in the kitchen feeling sorry for himself. When Mariah had come in there to get a fresh soda, he'd tried to get some sympathy, and with her being soft-hearted she'd tried to comfort him.

  In a friendly way.
r />   She'd given him an inch and he'd tried to take a mile, getting handsy with her until she'd had to knee him in the balls. Brad had yelled, causing everyone to run into the kitchen to see what was going on. Mariah looked pissed. Brad was yelling and saying that she'd lost her mind. She'd told Ryan what had happened and then she told Brad that she wasn't sorry. He needed to learn to keep his hands to himself.

  And he had. Brad had never tried anything with Mariah again, although he'd pulled that crap with most of the other females in their group more than once.

  As for Ryan, his close friendship with Brad had never been the same. At one point, they'd been more like brothers, but after Brad's actions with Mariah, Ryan had put some distance between them. He simply couldn't trust him the same way.

  I should have punched him that night. He'd deserved it.

  "But I did handle it," Mariah said, breaking into his thoughts. "He was always that way, pushing at every boundary he came across. Sometimes, I wonder if that's what happened to him. Did he run into the wrong person that night? Did someone take offense to something that he did?"

  She spoke the last part so softly Ryan almost didn't hear the words.

  "I've often wondered about that myself," he confessed. "Brad could be so naive about the world at times. He thought everyone was just like him. Just out for a good time."

  "Everything was a game," she whispered into her glass, taking another sip. "It was all fun."

  "Until he disappeared."

  She set the glass down and pushed it away slightly. "When was the last time you saw him? What did he say?"

  "He was at the pool table with Theo and Carl. Caroline and Daphne were there, too. I told him that you and I were going to leave. He said that he was going to stay and have some more fun. He wanted to win back some money from Carl at pool after he took a leak. He headed to the bathroom and that's the last time I saw him."

  Mariah nodded. "I saw him in the hallway. I was coming out the ladies' room so we could leave and he was going into the men's room. He didn't see me, I don't think, but that's the last time I saw him. Do you think that he walked out of the back door? Cameras never saw him walk out the front."

  Ryan had already thought about that. "It was an emergency door and had an alarm on it. We've both heard it go off and there's no way someone wouldn't have heard it. It was loud as hell. I don't see how he could have walked out of it without everyone knowing."

  "Then how could he get outside and into the construction site next door?"

  "That's what I need to find out."

  "Can you? Really? After all these years?"

  "I'm going to do my best. It's what Brad and his family deserves." Ryan paused but his mouth didn't. "I'm not that thrilled to be here, if I'm honest. I just want to do my job and get back to my life."

  Now why did I say that out loud?

  Her expression changed from sad to angry in an instant.

  "I feel sorry for your parents and Liza. They love you, you know, but you act like they're the worst people on earth."

  "I don't," he replied reflexively. "I love Liza. I adore her. But you know I have a difficult relationship with Jack and Pat."

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head. "I noticed that you didn't say that you loved them. They're your parents, Ryan. They raised you and gave you everything."

  "Yes, everything that money could buy."

  She rolled her eyes and groaned. "You're upset because you didn't have the parents of your dreams. But your parents were fine. Give me a break."

  She didn't get it and she never had.

  "You wouldn't understand. Your parents are all touchy-feely hippies that said I love you every day of your life. I bet you got a hug and praise when you graduated high school. In fact, I know you did. My dad told me that I needed to buckle down for college."

  "Your mom and dad bought you a BMW for high school graduation. I think that's praise. I'm sorry that you didn't get a hug as well. I know what that would have meant for you but Jack and Pat just aren't huggers. It doesn't make them bad parents, it just makes them emotionally closed off. But if you think they don't love you, you're delusional. They love you. They just don't know how to say it. So they show it. With stuff."

  "Maybe I didn't want stuff."

  Sighing, Mariah reached across the counter and placed her hand on his. The skin burned where she touched it as if it was 2008 again.

  You can't go back in time.

  "You're one of the smartest people I've ever known, but the one thing you don't get is that people aren't always what you want them to be, Ryan. Your life would be a lot easier if you stopped expecting people to change for you, and then being upset when they don't or can't. The fact is some people can easily say I love you without actually feeling it. Your parents can feel it but they can't say it. I know which one I'd rather have but you have to make your own decisions." She leaned forward so they were nose to nose. "By the way, you're not exactly Mr. Eloquent. You rarely told me you loved me when we were together. You rarely let me in any of your emotions, for that matter, so basically you're the pot in this scenario and your parents are the kettle."

  He could feel the heat of anger on the back of his neck. She was twisting the past into something that it wasn't.

  "I think you and I don't remember the past the same."

  She shrugged. "Maybe we don't."

  He stepped back, trying to get some breathing room. It was always like this with Mariah.

  She was intense and she challenged him at every turn. He didn't want tonight to turn into a battle. Or a war.

  "This is why I'm not sure we can be friends."

  Brushing by him, she marched over to the door and opened it. For a split second, he'd felt the heat of her body and smelled her distinct perfume. It was sultry and spicy and at one point in his life it had made him crazy with lust.

  But no more. I'm immune.

  Fuck that, who am I kidding? One hour in her company and I'm like a teenage kid again.

  "Then you should probably go," she said, still holding the door open. "I'll try and avoid you as much as possible. Good luck with the investigation."

  He hesitated for a moment but her expression was clear - he was an asshole. She was done with him...at least for now. This was why he'd ended their relationship. They didn't see things the same way.

  "Thank you for dinner," he said, moving toward the door. "I really don't want us to be at each other's throats. I just–"

  "Don't want to be friends," she said, finishing his sentence before he could. "Got it. I think you're right. You haven't changed a bit, Ryan, and that's not a good thing. So good night."

  He didn't argue. There was no point. Instead he exited her apartment and entered his own, shutting the door behind him. Blowing out a long breath, he leaned back against the door.

  The woman made him insane. He couldn't think straight when they were breathing the same air, so close together. His mind got all muddled up and the next thing he knew he was saying shit he never would have if he'd had his head on straight. He hadn't meant to hurt her and he realized that he had. She'd taken his statement about being friends personally when it wasn't about her. It was about him.

  He doubted she was going to believe him about that though. Best thing he could do is make sure that they weren't alone again. There was too much...history between them.

  History and heat. At least on his side.

  He might be digging into the past because of Brad's death but that didn't mean that having any sort of relationship with Mariah was a good idea.

  Do a job. Go home. That was the plan.

  8

  "Your brother is an idiot. A total and complete dumbass."

  Mariah was sitting in an outdoor cafe having breakfast with Liza the next day. She'd been simmering all last night and this morning about Ryan's stubborn behavior.

  "Good morning to you too," Liza joked, pouring cream into her coffee. "I guess you and Ryan have seen each other then."

 
"My food was accidentally delivered to him last night," Mariah grumbled, perusing the menu. They had great omelets here. "So I invited him in for dinner. I thought we might be able to be friends. Now I'm wondering what I ever saw in him. He lives in a deep state of denial. He thinks he's not stubborn or super competitive. Can you believe that?"

  Liza burst into laughter, her cheeks turning pink. "Of course I can, he's a Beck. For the most part, we're deeply in denial about how our upbringing has affected our psyche. Ryan thinks he's so smart but he's just like the rest of us in so many ways. I can actually hear him telling you that he's not competitive in the least and that winning doesn't matter to him. He believes it, too. At least I can admit it. I hate to lose. More than I like to win. It's a family trait and it was bred into us from the day we were born."

  "He thinks his parents don't love him," Mariah went on. "Then he said that I couldn't understand how he felt because my parents were different."

  "In a way, he has a point. You can sympathize but you can't empathize. But it's crazy that he thinks Mom and Dad don't love him."

  "I know, right? Your parents adore him and he can't see it."

  "He can't see that he's just like Dad either."

  "I think he does see it, but he's in denial about that, too. I think he's convinced himself that if he left the family and made his own way that somehow he'd magically become different."

  They had to pause the conversation as the server took their order. A Denver omelet for Mariah with a side of wheat toast and orange juice, and a Belgian waffle for Liza.

  "I'm off my diet today," she declared after handing her menu to the waitress. "I'm going to be bad."

  Calories didn't dare come near Liza. Like her brother she was tall, slim, and gorgeous.

  Mariah was lucky as well, her metabolism lightning fast. Someday it might turn on her but right now she could eat whatever she wanted. Unfortunately, what she wanted most of the time wasn't good for her.

  That's how it is with Ryan, too. He's not good for me.

  But damn, he looked handsome last night.