by Eve, Jaymin
Dylan snorted. “It’s like we’re not even standing here.”
I flipped him off before Eddy and I hugged again. She held me tightly for a minute, then wiping at her eyes, she straightened. “Okay, I’m ready to deal with the police. Let’s do this.”
Jasper bopped her on the head. “You’ll stand at the back and keep your mouth shut, Edith. The last thing we need is anyone looking at you when it comes to this shit. You stay under the radar.”
She saluted him with a sarcastic wiggle of her head. “Yes, sir.”
“Smartass,” Jasper muttered, but he didn’t push anything else.
I drifted closer to Beck, and he wrapped an arm around me, holding me against his side. We would not show the police any of the chinks in our armor. Not today. Today we were a formidable team that could take on any fucking thing.
We took the stairs to the main lobby level, assuming that was where the police waited for us. The security on the front desk remained where they were, blocking the elevator, eyeing the half dozen officers that stood before them. Some in uniform. Some plain clothed.
“No one gets through,” George, the giant security man that I was pretty sure was bulletproof, was saying to the cops. I had no idea how old George was; his dark skin was smooth except for a few laugh lines, but the few sprinkles of gray in his black hair told me he was older than I thought.
However old he was, he was scary and formidable, and the police officers were not pushing forward on him at all.
“Thank you, George,” Beck drawled, nudging us past one of the uniformed cops and hitting the elevator button. “We’ve got it from here.” Barely even bothering to look over his shoulder, he addressed our guests. “I assume you’d like to speak with us?”
One of the guys in a suit, as opposed to a uniform, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Mr. Beckett,” he said, flicking a cautious glance over me, then a quicker one at the rest of our crew. “We need to speak with Miss Deboise as a matter of urgency.”
A sneering sort of smile crossed Beck’s lips. “You mean you need to speak with me. If there is a police matter concerning Miss Deboise, then it’s me you need to be informing.”
As much as I knew he was playing his role—the arrogant, entitled heir to a multi-billion dollar corporation—the misogynistic tone rubbed me the wrong way. Scowling up at Beck, I dislodged his arm from my shoulders and stepped closer to the cop.
“What Beck meant,” I said in a sickly sweet tone, knowing Beck was glaring death at my back, “is that I’m Riley Deboise, and you’re quite welcome to speak with me directly. After all, this isn’t the eighteenth century.” Calling myself a Deboise turned my stomach, but Wells’ point had stuck with me. I was a Deboise, like it or not. There were many bigger things to concern myself about than a stupid surname.
The suited man shook my hand and gave me a tight smile. “Thank you. I’m Detective Shepherd, this is my partner, Detective Riggs. May we speak with you somewhere more private?” He shot a look at George, who gave a sassy brow lift, and I needed to swallow back a laugh.
“We can speak upstairs,” Dylan offered, stepping in before Beck did something dumb. Like beat me over the head with a club then drag me back to his cave. “Just you two, though.” He nodded to the detectives. “Our apartments are a bit tight on space. Your officers can wait here in the lobby.”
I turned to the elevators, trying to hide the hard eye roll I’d just given Dylan. Just when I thought he was being the reasonable one. Nonetheless, the two plain clothes detectives joined us for a tense, silent ride up to the top floor then gave Dylan a narrow-eyed glare as we stepped into my expansive, open plan apartment.
“Yes, such cramped confines,” the partner—Detective Riggs—muttered under his breath. He looked younger than his partner, maybe in his early thirties, with a dark shadow over his jaw where he’d not shaved.
Half amused, half frustrated by the boys’ behavior, I indicated for the cops to take a seat.
“Can we get you coffee?” I offered, “Beck will make it.” I speared my boyfriend with a sharp glare, and he narrowed his eyes back at me. “Dylan, you’d better help.”
“I’ll take one, thanks boys.” Jasper smirked at Beck and Dylan, flopping down in my dusky gray armchair.
Evan nodded, perching on the arm of the couch I sat on. “Same.”
The alpha male dickheads of our group scowled sourly, but did as they were told. They damn well knew they were throwing their weight around unnecessarily. Detective Shephard had specifically said they were here to speak about something, not question or detain or anything like that.
“Sorry about them,” I apologized when I could hear the two of them clattering around my kitchen.
Eddy snickered, taking the seat beside me. “The Delta boys have a bit of caveman syndrome where Riley is concerned.”
“Probably a good thing,” Shephard murmured, then cleared his throat again. “Miss Deboise—”
“Riley,” I corrected him, and he nodded.
“Riley. You received a vase of roses recently, correct?” His gaze was even on me, but a chill ran down my spine at the reminder. But he didn’t know about the rose left at Carl’s murder scene, only the ones left on my doorstep.
“Should we be waiting for legal counsel?” Evan asked, speaking up before I could respond myself. “I understand they’re en route.”
Shephard gave a small shrug, even as his partner looked annoyed and generally irritated. “If you’d feel more comfortable, then by all means. But we aren’t here to question you on anything, Riley.” He raised his brows at me, silently asking if he should continue or wait for our lawyers to arrive. But really, I didn’t trust Delta paid lawyers as far as I could throw them—which wasn’t far.
“Go ahead,” I responded with a nod. Beck and Dylan had just slapped together the quickest coffee in recorded history and were already rejoining us so there was no sense in stalling any further. “Yes, the roses were left on my doorstep. I take it you tested the, uh, blood?” I swallowed hard, my mind flashing to Carl’s blood dripping from the rose under his wipers.
Shephard nodded. “The blood was nothing exciting, just store-bought pig’s blood.”
“Can’t understand why that’s even an option to purchase,” Detective Riggs muttered, scratching his stubbled cheek. “Just asking for stupid high school kids to pull dumb pranks on each other.” He shot me a pointed look, and I frowned.
“Are you implying this was a joke?” I demanded. “You brought six uniformed officers with you to tell me that you have dismissed this threat as a high school prank?”
Riggs was getting under my skin.
“No,” Shephard replied in a firm, no-nonsense tone. The look he shot his partner was a clear shut up, you asshole.
I squinted at him suspiciously. “No? So... what did you find out? I’m assuming it’s something to warrant this downright weird visit?”
“The black rose triggered in our database as being linked to an open investigation,” Shephard explained. “The specific variety is rare, called Osiria. It’s native to a remote region of Turkey, so not something readily available at florists. We’re worried that this links you to another victim. We’ve brought uniformed officers with us because until we can verify more information, we think it best you keep a police guard around the clock.”
My brows shot up, and I licked my suddenly dry lips. The guys all seemed fine letting me take the lead on this conversation—and rightly so—but I could practically feel the tension vibrating from all four of them. Eddy was the only normal one in the room, looking as pale and worried as, I’m sure, I was.
“When you say, another victim, I take it you don’t mean someone else who is being stalked?” My voice was husky, and I knew the answer before Shephard shook his head.
“Miss Deboi—uh, Riley. These roses are involved in an open murder investigation. A young oil family heiress in Texas was recently stabbed to death in her bed. The only clue left was a black Osiria rose drench
ed in her blood.” Detective Shephard looked grim as he shared this information. “Obviously, we ask you don’t share these details outside this room, but I need to impress on you the seriousness of your situation. That young lady had been stalked too. Gifts left in her bedroom, roses in her locker at school, things like that. Her family didn’t take it seriously, and she died for it. Please don’t make the same mistake.”
I stared at him for a long moment, searching for the right words. Eventually, Eddy spoke for me. “Thank you for letting us know,” she said with flawless politeness. Of course, she was a Langham heir, too, even if she wasn’t the heir. “I’m sure Riley would appreciate having your officers watching over the apartment building, but we do have our own security for school.”
I cleared my throat, coughing out the lump of shock and fear that had formed with the news of a murdered heiress who’d been getting the same roses as me. “Yes, what Eddy said. Thank you.”
Detective Shephard frowned at me, looking more like a concerned parent than a police officer in that moment. “Any other roses, or just anything remotely out of place, please be sure to call us. Okay?”
I nodded, biting my lip and trying to erase Carl from my brain. “Thank you for letting us know. Was there anything else?”
The lead detective shook his head and stood up. “That was all for now. Thank you for being amenable to our protections, I’m starting to think the rumors about the Delta heirs is unfounded.” He shook hands with me, then with everyone else, and headed to the door with his partner following.
Just as they were about to step out of my apartment, Riggs paused and looked back, scanning his eyes over all six of us. “You know, you’d all be a hell of a lot safer if you moved back home with your moms and dads. Militant Delta Estate is better guarded than the local prison.”
I gave Riggs—that prick—a sarcastic smile. “I appreciate your suggestion, but I’d rather run my chances with a serial killer than sleep under Catherine Deboise’s roof again. Have a great evening!” I slammed the door in his face before he could respond then turned back to the guys with a glower. “What?” I snapped, watching the Delta masks slipping off their faces, and Evan wrinkled his nose at me.
“You know he probably works for Catherine? The whole Jefferson PD is on Delta’s database.” Evan wandered over to my floor-to-ceiling window and peered down at the street, presumably where tonight’s officers were stationed.
I sighed, flopping down onto the couch and kicking my feet up onto Eddy’s lap. “I know. Catherine can kiss my ass.”
“But also, that’s why I figured it was easier to just accept their cops,” Eddy piped up. “If they’re being paid by Delta anyway, what difference does it make if it’s them or someone else? I figure Beck has his own guys out of sight anyway.”
Beck grunted a noise but didn’t disagree.
Jasper sighed heavily and stood up, grabbing his jacket from where he’d tossed it. “All right, wish me luck. If I’m not back before school, then maybe report me missing.”
He headed out the door, and I shot a confused look at Evan, who grinned wickedly.
“He’s going to see Layla,” he filled me in. “This new development sort of pushes more urgency on checking Huntley’s files, don’t you think?”
Fear coursed through me, and I clenched my fists to stop them trembling. “You think Katelyn might have been killed by this same guy?”
“I’m getting a feeling,” Beck said with a grimace. “This psycho likes heiresses. We need to be more careful. I’ll make some calls.” He disappeared into the outside hall, presumably to make those mysterious calls within his own apartment, which I doubt he’d even slept one full night inside since “moving in” the other week.
Dylan sat down on the couch beside where I had my head propped on a pillow. “You need some food, Riles,” he commented, stroking my messy hair with his fingers. “You barely ate at lunch time.”
Evan snorted a laugh. “She ate plenty... of Beck’s tongue.”
“Shut up,” I growled, throwing a spare cushion at him and missing.
“How about we order Chinese?” Dylan suggested, and my stomach groaned its agreement in unison with Eddy’s enthusiastic approval. “I take that as a yes.” Dylan laughed and pulled out his phone. He didn’t stop stroking his fingers through my hair, instead just using his other hand to find the delivery app and select our favorite foods.
Some time later, Beck returned and took Dylan’s seat, but I was already dozing. A little nap before the food arrived wouldn’t hurt, and the stress of everything was weighing down my eyelids like they were made of lead. Despite the fact I was being stalked by a murderer, plotting a mutiny for my bio-parents’ empire, and working to free my best friend from jail, I couldn’t help but soak in the peace and security of that moment. Lying there, surrounded by my chosen family, the people who I loved and trusted, I could push the bad shit aside.
15
I had no idea what woke me, but one minute I was deep asleep and the next my heart was racing and my eyes were wide open. Fear coursed through me like electricity, and I didn’t move for the longest time. I simply lay there, holding my breath and listening for what had woken me. My bedroom was silent, the only sound coming from Beck’s deep breathing as he slept beside me.
That was what finally allowed me to relax. If Beck was still asleep, then it had to have been a bad dream that’d woken me. Still, my heart was pumping, and I doubted I’d be getting back to sleep any time soon. Beck’s arm was heavy around my waist, and when I tried to slide out of bed, he tightened his grip, pulling me back into his body.
“Where are you going?” he mumbled without opening his eyes. His voice was so thick, I doubted he was even really awake.
“To pee,” I whispered back with a smile. “Let me go, caveman.”
Beck mumbled something incoherent but kissed my bare shoulder and released me from his grip so I could scramble out. By the time I’d grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and tugged it over my head, his breathing had evened back out into sleep, and I took extra care not to make any sound as I crept into the bathroom.
When I was done, I decided not to get back into bed straight away. I was still wide awake and would only end up tossing and turning, then eventually waking Beck up. Still, it wasn’t until I headed back into the living room that I remembered the folder Sami had given me in the bathroom at school.
I grabbed it out of my bag then tossed it on the coffee table. Whatever Wells had sent me would need some brain power to process, so I padded around in the kitchen and made coffee in my awesome Queen mug. Not wanting to turn on too many lights and wake Beck, I just flicked on the little table lamp beside the couch and settled against the pillows to tear open the sealed packet.
“I probably should have opened this sooner,” I murmured to myself, flipping through what looked to be a case file. One that catalogued all the grisly details of the heiress murdered in Texas two months ago. Wells must have somehow intercepted the information before the cops came to see me, which made me a little bit impressed at his reach and resources.
A thorough read of the papers showed nothing drastically different from what Shephard had told us, just offered a whole lot more detail. Including crime scene photos that turned my stomach and set my heart racing with fear. I was so engrossed reading a diary photocopy from the victim—sixteen year old Cordelia June—that I didn’t hear anyone creeping up on me until a hand touched my shoulder.
Needless to say, I screamed, and the papers I’d been holding scattered everywhere while I scrambled away from my attacker ... only to find Beck in a fit of laughter on the floor behind the couch.
“You asshole!” I shrieked, throwing a pillow at his head. Hard. “You scared the crap out of me!”
“Aw, I’m sorry, Butterfly,” he snickered, pulling himself up and climbing onto the couch with me. “I couldn’t resist. What had you concentrating so hard at three in the morning, huh?” He peeled my arms away from my face—which I’d bee
n hiding to stop him seeing just how badly he’d scared me—and kissed my neck.
I considered telling him all the crap I’d just read, especially the part where Cordelia had thought the roses were being sent by a secret admirer. She’d journaled about which boy at school she thought might be responsible and talked about how flattering and exciting it all was. This was a month before her murder. The gifts had steadily deteriorated from there, roses turning up covered in blood and her cat being left dead on her bedroom floor, until finally—while her parents were away on some business trip—the stalker had broken in, tied her up, tortured, and raped her before stabbing her to death. A single black Osiria rose was left tossed on her body, the signature of her killer. I worried about the fact that my first “gift” was the bloody roses. Did that mean he was lessening his timeline with me? Or had there been other gifts before the roses?
“What sort of shit did Delta intercept for me?” I asked Beck, and all humor died from his face. “Have there been other gifts? Or just threats?”
His face was suddenly alert, not a single sign that it was three in the morning and he had only had a few hours sleep. “Three written threats, two bunches of flowers, some stuffed animals, and a diamond necklace which was traced to an oil heir currently living in South Africa.”
I blinked at him, while attempting to smile. “Well, where’s my necklace? I love diamonds.” I joked to hide my discomfort about people sending me stuff. Especially when those flowers and stuffed animals—similar to what Cordelia got—probably came from the crazy serial killer.
Beck’s hand wrapped gently around my throat, and my body clenched. His voice at my ear was a whisper. “No one puts jewelry on this perfect body except me.”
I snorted, but didn’t disagree. There was a beat of silence, and I sighed. “I think those first flowers and the stuffed animals were from the Osiria killer,” I said softly.
Beck stilled, face unreadable. “What makes you think that?”
