Shadowing Ivy

by Janelle Taylor

  “A lie,” Griffin said.

  “He told me he was a graduate student at NYU,” Ivy told her. “Getting his MBA.”

  Mara shook her head. “Jerk. A jerk and a liar and a murderer!”

  “Mara,” Griffin said gently, “what makes you so sure Dennis killed Jennifer? Had you seen a violent side of him?”

  She bit her lip. “No, but once at a party, another guy was flirting with Jen, and I noticed that Dennis was watching. He was boiling mad. He was so angry that he actually squeezed the wineglass in his hand. He was bleeding all over the place. There was something about that look in his eye. The anger. It was the first thing I thought of when I was told Jennifer had been killed. Especially after what happened the night before.” She wiped under her eyes. “You have to find him. You have to make him pay for what he did to my sister.”

  “I assure you we will find him,” Griffin said. “But please remember, Miss Lexington, that at this point, we still don’t know for sure if Dennis killed Jennifer. It looks that way, but we need to investigate all angles.”

  “And I’m working with Detective Fargo to find Dennis. Or Declan, as I knew him. Believe me, I want him caught as much as you do.”

  “Find him fast,” Mara spat out. “And then castrate the bastard.”

  Chapter Eight

  After making the necessary phone calls to set up surveillance on Laura Frozier, who, for all Griffin knew, might be working in partnership with Declan, Griffin and Ivy drove away from Mara Lexington’s building.

  “Where to now?” Ivy asked.

  “My place,” he said. “I need to do some research, make some more calls.”

  And keep you in my sights, he added mentally. As long as Ivy was by his side, she wasn’t making her own phone calls to Declan, slipping him information while pretending to work with the detective assigned to bring him in. If she was working with Declan, she was one hell of a good actress. The way he saw it, there was only a one percent chance that Ivy was working with Declan. Less than one percent. But he’d be a fool to ignore it.

  She nodded. “How are we going to find ‘the bastard, ’ Griffin? And we have to find him. We have to find him and make him pay for what he did to Jennifer Lexington. Could he be hiding out with this Laura Frozier?”

  “It’s possible, but I doubt it,” Griffin said. “Sounds to me like Jennifer went home and very likely argued with Declan all night about Laura. A witness—a tenant walking his dog—remembers Declan leaving around midnight and coming back a few hours later. So maybe he stormed out, then came back, and Jennifer threatened to call Laura Frozier in the morning to ask her straight out. Maybe that’s when he killed her.” Ivy nodded. “To stop her from ruining his good thing with Laura. Sounds like she was his only possibility at getting his hands on a rich wife since Jennifer would have likely dumped him. I wasn’t a sure thing, given the fact that my father would have likely disinherited me. Especially because I didn’t open the inheritance letter when I was supposed to. So the way Declan saw it, Jennifer was about to destroy his chance to marry Laura for her money.”

  Griffin nodded. “You’d make a good detective.”

  “That’s my goal,” she said. “Though I’m not sure my captain will think I deserve it after letting a common crook like Declan snow me.”

  “Wasn’t your fault, Ivy,” he said for the second time that day. “As I’ve said, Declan is a master con artist. Your captain would have been fooled by Declan just as you were.”

  She bit her lip and nodded and looked away. He was struck once again by how fragile she could look, despite her strength. He had the urge to reach out, squeeze her hand or something, anything. His dad used to do that kind of thing, lay a strong hand on Griffin’s shoulder to let him know he cared, that he understood whatever it was Griffin was going through as a kid, a teenager. And that would always make Griffin feel better, less alone with his problems.

  “You okay?” he asked. “I know it couldn’t have been easy to hear there’s another woman.” Damn. He hadn’t quite meant to emphasize another quite so much.

  She glanced at him and offered a small smile. “I’m getting used to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more to come.” She let out a deep breath. “So this is where you live?” she asked as they pulled into a parking space on his street. She glanced up at the row of brownstones.

  “I don’t own the entire brownstone,” he said. “Just one apartment. But it’s nice. With a garden out back.” He grabbed her suitcase from the trunk and carried it up the few steps. After unlocking his deadbolts, he stepped inside, his gun drawn. Ivy behind him, he checked out each room. Declan wasn’t lying in wait for him. Nor had he managed to break in. No calling cards had been left. But Griffin wouldn’t put it past his brother to leave him a warning. Or try to get him out of the way.

  “Nice place,” Ivy said, glancing around. “Definitely a bachelor pad, but nice.”

  He smiled and led her down the hall. “My guest room,” he said, placing her suitcase on the bed. “All yours.”

  She glanced up at him. “Thank you, Griffin.”

  The small bedroom was suddenly too small. He had the sudden urge to grab Ivy and lay her down on the blue blanket and touch every inch of her. With his hands, his mouth. He suddenly wanted to make love to her with such ferocity that he turned away.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  Yes, something’s wrong. I’m attracted to you when I can’t be.

  His cell phone. Saved by the captain. He went into his bedroom and shut the door, filling his captain in on the conversation with Jennifer Lexington’s sister and his next steps—to question Laura Frozier. He also informed his boss that he was safeguarding Ivy. Griffin then made a couple more calls, one to a snitch to check in, and another to set up a meeting with Laura Frozier for later today. The woman had her own personal assistant, despite not having a job.

  The doorbell rang, and again, Griffin drew his gun. He put his finger to his lips and gestured for Ivy to stay put.

  Declan? Possibly, but Griffin doubted his brother would be so bold as to come to Griffin’s home. Declan was smart, but Griffin was smarter. And bigger.

  He padded to the door and peered through the peephole. Not Declan. Not even close. It was Joey, his young friend he’d met at the nursing home.

  He unlocked the door and Joey barreled in, fists clenched. He was pacing so fast that his mop of dark brown hair flopped into his eyes.

  “I hate him! He’s such a jerk. I hate his stupid guts!” Joey ranted, his cheeks flushed and his big hazel eyes filling up with tears. The young man glanced up and noticed Ivy and slid down the wall onto his butt, his face buried in his hands.

  Ivy gestured to Griffin that she would make herself scarce, and she slipped into the kitchen.

  Griffin sat down next to Joey, his knees up like his young friend’s. “Hey, Joey, calm down and tell me what’s going on. It’s just us now.”

  Joey glanced up, looking around. He let out a deep breath. “I just hate his guts. He’s such a bastard!”

  “Who, Joey?”

  “My stupid jerk stepfather, that’s who,” Joey yelled. “I was eating lunch in the caf at school, and he calls me and tells me I have to go to some stupid wedding in his stupid family next weekend in California. He knows I spend every Saturday and Sunday visiting my dad. And my girlfriend isn’t even invited to the wedding.”

  Despite being six feet tall and one hundred sixty muscular pounds, Joey was barely eighteen, finishing up his last semester of high school, and still, for the most part, a kid.

  “Did you tell him how you felt?” Griffin asked.

  “Like he cares? My mother and Chip the Dip-head both said my dad wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t there. How dare they? Are they doctors? No. So they don’t know anything. They don’t know what my dad knows and doesn’t know. Maybe he does know I’m there. Maybe he does hear me.”

  Griffin understood how important it was for Joey to believe that. And it could very well be
true.

  “And my girlfriend isn’t invited to the wedding because ‘she’s not family,’” Joey continued, mimicking his stepfather in a singsong voice. “But I know the real reason. Chip the Loser and my mother think she’s ‘inappropriate.’ That’s their favorite word. Well, I think they’re the ones who are inappropriate!” He buried his face again.

  “I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend,” Griffin said.

  Joey lifted his head, his expression brightening a bit. “She’s a little older. Nineteen. She has her own apartment, well, with two roommates. Mom and Chip don’t like her because she’s not in college and has a belly button ring.”

  Griffin smiled. “What is she doing?”

  “She’s a singer. Well, a waitress-slash-singer. She wants to try out for American Idol. And I’ll bet she makes it. She’s really good. And so pretty.” He stared down at the floor. “Sometimes, she’ll sing without any music, and she makes me forget what’s going on, you know? Like my dad.”

  Griffin nodded. “Women definitely can make you forget your troubles sometimes.”

  “Hot chocolate can, too,” Ivy said, setting down three steaming mugs on the dining room table. “Well, it can at least warm you up on a cold day.”

  Joey half smiled and popped up, wrapping his hands around a red mug. “Thanks. So, are you Griffin’s girlfriend?” he asked.

  Griffin caught Ivy’s cheeks pinken as he stood up and took a seat next to Joey at the table. “She’s a fellow officer,” he explained. The word girlfriend combined with Ivy filled Griffin’s mind with images of kissing her, feeling those pretty red lips against his.

  “Cool,” Joey said. He sipped his hot chocolate.

  Griffin forced thoughts of Ivy’s lips from his brain. “You know, Joey, I’d be happy to visit your dad for you when you’re away at the wedding. If you decide to go, that is.” Joey was legally an adult and could do what he wanted, but he clearly respected his mother and stepfather’s authority. He was a good kid.

  Joey glanced at him. “Really? You’d really go see him? Talk to him?”

  Griffin nodded. “You bet.”

  “Well, that makes you a lot cooler than my mom and Chip the Dipshit.” He glanced at Ivy and bit his lip. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I hear a lot of curses in my line of work.”

  Joey laughed. “Yeah, like which ones?”

  “I’ll spare you and Griffin,” she said with a smile.

  “Anyway, Joey,” Griffin said, “when I’m faced with a situation like yours, what I like to do is really think it through. Think through both sides and decide what’s best, what’s right. With a cool head—not a hot one. Know what I mean?”

  Joey smiled. “I can get a little hotheaded sometimes. But that jerk makes me so mad!”

  Griffin smiled. “Well, if you ever need to talk about anything, you can always come to me.”

  Joey nodded and bit his lip again. “I’m gonna go think.” He glanced up at Ivy. “Thanks for the hot chocolate. You make it really good.”

  Ivy smiled. “No problem.”

  When Joey was gone, Griffin moved into the living room, and Ivy sat down next to him on the couch. “He’s a good kid. Going through a lot.”

  Ivy leaned her head back, revealing the beautiful long column of her neck. “That’s wonderful of you to visit his dad. Assuring him of that really seemed to take the pressure off him.”

  “He’s a great kid,” Griffin said. “It killed me to see him at the nursing home every day, never taking his eyes off his dad for a second just in case there would be some flicker of recognition of his son. Seeing my dad the same way took a huge toll on me and I’m an adult. Imagine what it’s like for a kid in high school.”

  “I’m so sorry for what you went through,” Ivy said. “For what your dad went through. Were you close?”

  Griffin shrugged, an image of his father floating to the surface. His father, once so big and strong, once so brilliant, had been reduced to a shell. Frederick Fargo would be walking down the street and would suddenly turn to a stranger and bark orders as though he were in the hospital talking to an intern. And then, for a while, he thought he was a teenager. Griffin wasn’t often scared by anything; he was always prepared for the worst. But he’d been scared to death by what happened to his father.

  “Not too close,” Griffin said. “We never were.”

  She glanced at him and nodded. “Sounds like Joey was very close to his dad. I hope you know what your support must mean to him. When I was a teenager, I used to wish I had someone to talk to about my dad and how bad I felt about it.”

  This time Griffin did reach over and squeeze Ivy’s hand. She glanced up at him with a gentle smile, and before he even knew what he was doing, he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. Not a friendly kiss, either. He felt her surprise, her momentary hesitation, but then she kissed him back. Tentatively, at first. And then passionately.

  He pulled away to look into her eyes, to give her a moment to decide. She leaned closer, her lips barely touching his. It was an invitation. And that was all he needed.

  He pressed her down on the couch while deepening the kiss. Her soft, cool hands were around his neck, in his hair, her back arching up. He slipped his own hands under her sweater and quickly disposed of her lacy bra. Interesting. He’d expected plain white, but this delicious piece of lingerie was pale pink and sheer with tiny rosebuds along the straps. And it smelled faintly of perfume, of Ivy.

  He inched up the sweater until his hands covered her full, round breasts, then he practically tore off the sweater to get it out of his way. She smiled, and he kissed her, and she surprised him once again by sitting up and then pushing him down on the opposite side of the couch. He felt those breasts against his chest, her thighs against his thighs. She inched down a bit and began unbuttoning his shirt, and suddenly the zipper of her pants was in line with his. He groaned and grabbed her hands. Their eyes met then, and he knew she knew what he was trying to tell her.

  This was it.

  Either she stopped him now and they very quickly started discussing the case and murder victims and former fiancés who were also estranged half brothers, which would be the equivalent of a few cold showers, or they made love.

  I have to make love to you.

  Instead of putting a stop to this madness, and it was madness, Ivy unbuttoned his shirt, her gaze on his. The moment her hands touched his bare skin, his last rational thought left his mind and he simply felt. Felt her soft, full breasts crushed against his chest, her lips on his, his erection straining against his zipper. In seconds he had both of their pants off. He braced himself up to admire her curves. She was an innie. And her panties were as sexy as her bra. Pale pink and sheer. He pulled them down and lay naked atop her, teasing each rosy nipple with his tongue. She moaned and that was all he could take.

  He slid inside her, gently at first, his gaze on her beautiful face. She opened her eyes and kissed him, then closed them again against a moan that escaped her lips. He thrust into her, his hands, his mouth enjoying her breasts. When she began moaning fast and furious, he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer himself. Griffin exploded, the pleasure intense, and lay against her, her heart beating like crazy against his.

  “That was amazing,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Yes, it was,” she breathed back.

  They lay like that for at least a half hour. Griffin didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell. And clearly, neither did Ivy. But then she wriggled underneath him, and he moved aside to give her room to get up. She grabbed the chenille throw on the arm of the sofa and wrapped it around herself, then headed to the bathroom. Without looking at him.

  “Ivy,” he said, having no idea what words would follow.

  But she didn’t turn around.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, Ivy berated herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink in Griffin’s bathroom. How could she have let that happen?
For God’s sake, she didn’t even know if she could trust Griffin Fargo. If she was simply a means to an end.

  The face that greeted her in the mirror looked so unfamiliar. The blue eyes were sparkling. Her complexion was glowing. And a warmth enveloped her, despite the fact that she was standing naked in the bathroom, the throw folded neatly on the rim of the tub.

  That felt so good, she thought, closing her eyes against the memory of being underneath Griffin’s rock-hard body, of looking into those gorgeous dark eyes. For the first time in a long time, a man had made love to her and actually looked at her. She’d almost forgotten what that connection felt like. And now that she’d felt it, had shared it with Griffin, there it was. Which was why she was hiding in the bathroom.

  There was a knock at the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there?” came Griffin’s deep voice.

  It took Ivy a moment to find her voice. “Everything’s fine. I’m just ... washing my face.” She quickly turned on the water. She could imagine him smiling on the other side of that door.

  She wrapped the throw around her and then pulled the door open, and in fact he was smiling. His hands were braced on either side of the frame. He wore a pair of jeans and nothing else. God, he was sexy. He swooshed up all the air in the bathroom. “I’m ...” She faltered. “I have no idea what I am, actually.”

  “I do,” he said. “You’re beautiful. And you’re not sure if we should have done that.”

  “Yup,” she said.

  “I don’t think either of us expected that to happen, Ivy. But I don’t regret it.”

  “You might,” she said.

  He stared at her then, his eyebrow going up. “Are you admitting to something here?”

  “Like what? That I’m a no-good grifter? That Declan and I are working together?”

  “I don’t believe that, Ivy.”

  But she didn’t believe him. He was a detective first and foremost.

  “Detective Fargo, I think we both lost our minds for a while there. And from now on, I think we should keep our mouths to ourselves.”

  He smiled, and then she did, too, adding a grimace to let him know she was angry at him, though she wasn’t sure why.