by Erin Wade
“Baby goats?” Trent started bouncing up and down on Joey’s shoulders. “I wuv baby goats.”
Joey opened the car door and buckled Trent into the car seat that had become a fixture in Joey’s car.
The toddler caught Joey by the ears and kissed his cheek. “I wuv baby goats,” he whispered.
“So do I.” Joey laughed and kissed him back.
They had barely left Wanda’s driveway when Trent fell asleep. Joey placed his hand in Paula’s lap, and she wrapped her hands around his.
“That was a very nice thing you did for Wanda,” she said softly.
“I’m happy to do it,” Joey said. “Did it work? I invited you a while back and have given you time to think about it. Will you and Trent spend the Christmas holidays with us?”
“Who is ‘us’?” Paula asked.
“There is something you should know. Brandy is my sister. I’m enrolled in school under an alias. Brandy and I are undercover FBI agents gathering evidence about the unlawful sexual activity connected to the athletic program. It is necessary for us to maintain our cover until we wrap up our case.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Paula demanded.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It matters a lot. Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I’ve spent over you and Brandy?” Paula looked away. “I know you said you were her beard, but there was a closeness between you that was more than that. I never thought you might be siblings.”
“Are we okay?” Joey frowned. Sometimes women failed to make sense to him.
“We’re more than okay,” Paula said. “Now back to my original question. Who—besides baby goats—will be at your family home for Christmas?”
“My dad, Brandy, and me. Brandy’s invited Professor Shaw. We lost Mom sometime back, so it’s just the three of us and those we care about.”
Paula mulled over the invitation for several seconds. “Trent would love the animals, and I would love the company. Okay, it sounds like fun.”
Joey sighed deeply. He knew Paula had been through a lot, and it would take time to have the relationship they both wanted. He knew she loved him, and God alone knew how much he loved her and the little boy sleeping in his back seat.
Chapter 42
Alone in her apartment, Peyton watched the security video from the hospital. Sawyer was right; it was plain as day that someone dressed as Batman had visited Bob Radford’s room in the clinic. She jotted down the time on the video. Batman was in Radford’s room for ten minutes.
She pulled the medical examiner’s report from her briefcase. He had put Radford’s death at between four and five that morning. Batman had been in Radford’s room during that time.
I’ve got to wrap this up, she thought. The last thing Katherine needs is the university smeared all over national TV. She wondered if there was any other story that might capture Leslie Winters’ attention. She knew the woman was desperate to take something sensational back to New York.
She popped the DVD out of her computer and opened the spreadsheet she used to organize information on her cases. Beside each victim’s name were the names of the people who stood to gain the most from their death.
Only two names were beside all three deaths: Chief Pat Sawyer and Chancellor Katherine O’Brien. Peyton knew Katherine hadn’t murdered Radford, because she’d been in her bed that night. The only one with no alibi was Sawyer. I’ve granted immunity to the person most likely to be the killer. All the evidence points to Pat Sawyer. That’s a good thing. Now all I have to do is wrap up this mess.
The knock on Peyton’s door surprised her. She looked at her watch, wondering who could be visiting her after midnight. She picked up her Glock and crept to the door to look out the peephole. Katherine O’Brien, in all her glory, fidgeted in the hallway outside her door.
Peyton opened the door and pulled the chancellor inside. “Merry Christmas, darling,” Katherine said. She slipped into Peyton’s arms and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” Peyton said, trying to catch her breath. “I’d decided you couldn’t get away.”
“I would have come no matter the hour,” Katherine said. “I’ve ached for you all day. Just knowing I’d see you sooner or later made my entire day wonderful.”
Peyton kissed her again and then realized she still had her coat on. “Let me take your coat.”
The devil danced in the redhead’s eyes. “Um, maybe you should open it in your bedroom. It’s the wrapping for your Christmas present.”
Peyton’s breath caught in her throat, and her knees weakened as a wave of lust swept over her. “I can’t wait to open it.”
Peyton grabbed Katherine’s hand and led her to a beautifully decorated room. Soft lighting from two bedside lamps illuminated the king-size bed, the covers already turned back. Katherine smiled as she turned to her lover.
Savoring the moment, Peyton slowly removed the pins that held Katherine’s long, glorious hair in a proper chignon. Peyton kissed her neck and nipped at her shoulders as the hair slowly fell to her full breasts. The blonde tangled her hands in Katherine’s hair and pulled her head back, giving her complete access to the pounding pulse point in her neck.
Katherine moaned loudly. “Are you getting even with me for making you wait?”
“No, I’m simply enjoying every second of opening my present.” Peyton smiled to herself as the chancellor began to breathe harder. She liked that she could make Katherine lose control.
“Hmm. Let’s see what we’ve got,” she whispered in Katherine’s ear as she unbuttoned the top button of the coat and kissed her way to the first exposure of cleavage.
“Oh my, Chancellor, I believe you are beautifully endowed.” She unbuttoned the second button. “Um, yes.” She kissed between Katherine’s breasts. “So perfect,” she murmured, making her lips hum against Katherine’s silky skin.
“Peyton!” Katherine gasped as the blonde sucked a nipple into her mouth. “Oh Peyton, it’s okay to rip the wrapping off a package.”
“I’m enjoying this.” Peyton teased Katherine’s other breast with her tongue and caressed the first one she’d uncovered.
Katherine’s breath was coming in sharp, frantic gasps, as Peyton took her time worshiping the body that dreams were made of.
Peyton dropped to her knees as she released the last button. She ran her hands down Katherine’s waist, clutching her buttocks and placing warm, soft kisses on her stomach. Katherine squirmed, dropping the coat to the floor.
“I believe you’re ready for me, Chancellor,” Peyton teased.
“Oh God, yes!” Katherine cried out.
##
Much later, Katherine lay in Peyton’s arms, running her fingers through Peyton’s shoulder-length hair and reveling in the scent of the blonde. “I love your hair,” she whispered. “It’s so soft and fragrant.
“Sometimes when you come by my office to report about what is happening on campus, you lean over my shoulder and place something on my desk. The soft fragrance and nearness of you makes me want to run to my door, lock it, and make love to you right there on my office sofa.”
Peyton laughed softly. “It’s good to know my little ploy works.”
“Especially when you lean down and let your breasts rest against my back,” Katherine said with a sigh. “But you know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Peyton admitted. “But you do a damn good job of pretending I have no effect on you at all.”
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Agent King.” Katherine undulated against Peyton’s body, clutching her closer. “I can’t stand being away from you.”
“You know I adore you,” Peyton whispered as she kissed Katherine’s ear and down her neck. “All I want is to make love to you.”
“How do we handle this?” Katherine groaned as Peyton slid her hand down her back to the top of her thigh.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to be wit
h you all the time,” Katherine said. “I want to fall asleep in your arms every night.”
“That’s for you to decide.” Peyton pulled back so she could look into dark jade eyes. “I’m pretty honest about who I am and my proclivity for women. You’re the one we must protect. You’re the chancellor of a major university, the keeper of the next generation’s morals, the example for young women all over the world.”
“I’m very aware of the burden I carry,” Katherine said. “Being a lesbian doesn’t change my moral character.
“Peyton, I’ve lived a lonely existence for years—all my life, actually—because my sexuality didn’t fit the job description. I love what I do. I love that I can guide our youth and clean up a corrupt athletic program. I’ve been given the opportunity to clean up corruption that has been eating at the heart of this campus for decades.
“Everyone will know that there is zero tolerance for sexual misconduct at our university. They will know that monsters aren’t real.”
“Oh honey, monsters are real, and they’re disguised as people,” Peyton said. “They will always be lurking in the shadows, waiting for crusaders like you to disappear so they can slink back in.”
Katherine shuddered.
“I love what we have,” Katherine said. “Would you be willing to continue our relationship under our present conditions?”
“You mean slipping around after midnight? Pretending that we only interact with one another on a work basis? Keeping it a secret from the world that the most wonderful, glorious creature in existence is in love with me, and I love her?”
Katherine rolled over on her back. She knew the answer to her question. “You’re the only one I’ve been with since my husband died. I thought I could live a celibate life, because men don’t appeal to me, and women were not in my realm of possibility.
“Then you came along and made life and love and happiness possible. I don’t know how I’ll—”
“Yes!” Peyton rasped.
“What?” Katherine couldn’t believe her ears.
“Yes, I’ll live any way you need me to—in secret, in a dark cave. Any way I need to live if I can fall asleep in your arms. I don’t want to face a life without you in it, Katherine. I’d do anything to protect you and keep you and your reputation above reproach.”
“We can make that happen.” Katherine wrapped herself around Peyton. “We’ll find a way, my love.”
They clung to each other, running through scenarios that would make it possible for them to be together without becoming the center of campus gossip.
“Pat Sawyer,” Katherine said. “If she’s out of the way, the university could hire you as the chief of campus police. We’d have an excuse for constant contact.”
“I think Sawyer is the killer of Tucker and Chase,” Peyton replied. “And possibly Radford. Just a few more I’s to dot and T’s to cross and I’ll be able to arrest her.”
“I’ll leave that in your very capable hands,” Katherine said, snuggling closer. “May I feel those hands on me one more time?”
Chapter 43
“What do you mean you can’t get an interview with anyone of importance?” William Porter roared over the phone line.
“I mean this place is a ghost town,” Leslie explained to her boss. “Everyone’s gone for Christmas. The chancellor and campus police chief are gone until January 19th.”
“Something an experienced investigative reporter should have taken into consideration,” Porter huffed. “What are you going to do, waste four weeks hanging around Texas or return to New York?”
“Expense-wise it’s a break-even deal, and I might learn something. I’ll keep digging here.”
“You haven’t hooked up with that writer, have you? Everyone in this town knows you two—”
Leslie snorted. “No chance of that.”
“If you’re just staying there to warm her bed—”
“William, she won’t even talk to me. She certainly isn’t letting me warm her bed.”
“I’m warning you, Leslie. This better be the story of the year.”
“It will be. I’ll keep in touch.”
Leslie racked her brain, trying to figure a way to get Regan alone. Regan’s current paramour was like a beautiful pit bull—gentle until aroused. Leslie suspected that Brandy could be deadly when provoked.
I’m a fool, Leslie thought. I had it all with Regan and let it slip away.
##
Leslie called an automobile rental, requested an economy car, and had it delivered to her hotel. She spent the week exploring UT’s 423-acre campus. It was a beautiful campus, with everything one could imagine in a world-class university.
She located the office of the Austin American-Statesman, Austin’s leading newspaper, and parked her car beside the building. She showed the girl at the front desk her press credentials and requested use of their archives and photo morgue.
The girl looked up from the game she was playing on her cell phone long enough to point toward a door marked “Archives.”
“You’ll have to sign in here,” the girl said, pushing a clipboard toward her. “Be sure to include the name of the paper you work for.”
Leslie nodded. Her press credentials clearly stated the network name of her employer, but the girl hadn’t even looked at that. Leslie decided to write the name of a struggling New York newspaper. No reason to draw attention to her investigation.
She thanked the gods that the archives were electronically stored and easily searchable. She’d had visions of searching through musty newspapers.
As she researched, she became more and more impressed with Chancellor Katherine O’Brien. A stunning red-haired beauty, O’Brien had closed deals and accomplished things that had brought worldwide recognition to the university. Her track record surpassed most men, and she was still in her midforties.
Widowed in her twenties, O’Brien had never remarried, turning all her energy toward her profession instead. The more she read about O’Brien, the more determined she was to meet her.
Leslie spent the entire day searching for articles on sexual misconduct related to the university. The only black mark on the university’s stellar reputation was the high number of sexual assault complaints filed by students.
She researched Chief Pat Sawyer, who seemed to be affable but ineffective in reducing the number of sexual assaults on her campus. Four years ago, Sawyer had arrested the man responsible for the rape and murder of a coed. Leslie’s instinct told her there was more to the story than that. She decided to pursue the conviction and get an interview with the man.
She searched for information on FBI Agent Peyton King. A former sex-crimes profiler, King was a decorated officer and was known for closing cases quickly. Coach Danny Tucker had been murdered four months ago, and Robin Chase had died under suspicious circumstances around the same time. Leslie was certain King had some idea who the killer was.
She closed the newspaper computer and decided to give King a call. She was tired of eating dinner alone in her hotel room. She was disappointed to find that Agent King had disappeared for the holidays along with everyone else.
Chapter 44
Brandy packed the last of her belongings in a duffle bag and walked from her dorm room. By the time Regan got home, she would have all her things put away and dinner on the table.
She knew Regan would be tired. The first day back at school was always hectic. Brandy’s first class was tomorrow, and she was looking forward to it. Sitting in Regan’s classroom was like an aphrodisiac. Watching the brunette teach and interact with the class members was arousing and always made Brandy’s heart beat faster.
A text dinged into her cell phone. “Can you meet me at the SUB for lunch?”
“I’d love to,” Brandy replied. “I’ll get us a table in the corner.” Her day had just gone from good to awesome. She thought about the holidays they had enjoyed together.
Christmas at the ranch had been a series of enjoyable days and incredible nights. Joey
and Trent had shared a room, giving Paula a chance to relax and sleep late without a little finger poking in her eye or up her nose.
Everyone had fallen in love with Trent, and the little fellow had become Joey’s shadow, following him everywhere. She hoped things worked out between Paula and Joey, because she knew Joey had fallen in love with both the Lamberts.
Regan had been delightful, and Brandy’s father loved her. “Why can’t I find a woman like you?” Grayson had lamented.
When they had returned to campus, Brandy had been disappointed to find Leslie Winters was still in town. She had been on her network doing background bits on Austin and continually talking about the murders of Tucker and Chase. She’d had the good sense not to deem as murder Radford’s asphyxiation by vomit.
The day after Christmas, Brandy had uploaded Regan’s rejected book to Amazon, and it had taken off like a rocket. It shot straight to the top and was rated number one in Amazon’s mainstream books and every category in the lesbian genre. Both Mel Denton and the publisher were begging Regan to pull the book from Amazon and let them run with it, but Regan refused to do that.
“Don’t forget your contract is up this year,” Mel had threatened. “This is a fluke. You won’t have the same success with your next book.”
“You made this happen,” Regan had told Brandy as they lay in each other’s arms. “You get the credit for the success of Dressed to Kill.”
“You’re too quick to credit others with your genius,” Brandy said, beaming. “The only reason your book shot to the top is because it’s a damn good book.”
##
Brandy secured the table in the corner farthest away from the crowd milling around in the SUB. She opened her laptop and began checking Regan’s stats on Dressed to Kill.
The book had been on sale for three weeks and was averaging 500 books sold per day. Barnes & Noble had ordered a pallet of books and had put them on their bookshelves in every store. Brandy quickly did the math on her computer calculator. If the sales held steady, Regan would make over a million dollars on the book in a year.
