I fist my hands against my sides. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your sweetheart, or your sweet girl, or any other endearment, for that matter.”
For a second he studies me, probably trying to figure out how to put me in a better mood. But I’m up to his tricks. It’s not going to work this time.
“I’ve never been in a teenager’s room before,” he says. There’s a wistful tone to his voice.
Huh. Not the approach I thought he’d take. “Not even your own?”
“Last thing I had was a teenager’s room. No posters for me. Just the basics. Clothes, schoolbooks. I shared my bedroom with one of my foster brothers. He stashed weapons and drugs on his side.”
“God.” We really are from two different worlds.
“So this room of yours is a wonder to me. Everything here is white and innocent. Like you.”
“I’m not innocent. You should know.”
“It takes more than the loss of your virginity to sully someone. Like someone taking a cigarette to you because you didn’t move fast enough or breaking your arm because you didn’t get him what he wanted. Or someone killing your brother for speaking the truth. After that, you’re not innocent. You’re awakened to the darkness in the world.”
His litany of pain makes my temper tantrum seem silly now. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“I survived it. That’s what’s important.” Suddenly he drops on the bed and pulls me toward him.
Surprised by the move, I scramble for balance and end up straddling his legs to keep upright.
His hands knead my hips. “Wanna fool around?”
I sweep back the lock of hair that’s fallen forward across my face and glare at him. “Are you insane?”
Reaching up, he cups the back of my head and pulls me down to him. He gently nibbles my mouth, licks the seam between my lips. “We’ll only go for second base, I promise.” His voice’s gone husky, needy.
I give him the entrance he seeks, moan when his tongue tangles with mine. How could I have forgotten how amazingly good he is at this? “I like third base better,” I confess.
“If I get to third base, I won’t stop until I make it all the way home. And that, my darling Madrigal, we can’t do in a teenager’s room.” He strokes his thumb against my cheek. “Such soft skin you have.”
“Okay.” What can I say? I’m a pushover when it comes to him. Without a word of protest, I allow him to strip off my blouse because, who am I kidding, I love everything he does to me.
One-handed, he unsnaps my bra. Rather than toss it somewhere in the room, he lays it, nice and tidy, next to us on the bed. “I love your breasts.”
“They’re too big.”
His brow wrinkles. “Says who?”
“Me. Nothing fits.”
He cups my breasts with those big hands of his. “They fit me.”
He plays peekaboo with the fingers of his hand, and a nipple pops out. I fidget while he suckles it right through his fingers. He’s hard beneath me, against my crotch. And by now I know what he likes, how he likes to be touched, so I stroke his erection over his slacks.
He stops torturing me long enough to croak out a laugh. “Stop that, you witch.”
“What’s the matter? You can dish it out, but you can’t take it? Why am I the only one to be tortured? Two can play this game, you know.”
“Because sooner or later someone will come looking for you, and if they find me here, there’ll be hell to pay. I don’t care what happens to me. I can stand up to your grandfather. But you? Holden must keep believing his beautiful granddaughter is pure as undriven snow. And this time I am talking about your virginity.”
“I don’t care. And the door is locked.” Unzipping his slacks, I free him. He bobs hard and long and thick in my hand. He only gets one second’s warning before I lower my head and take him into my mouth.
“Madri—God Almighty—the mouth on you.”
I smile as I pleasure him. Taking my time, bobbing up and down his cock, sucking him in, playing with his balls.
He grunts when I squeeze him gently. When he grows large, I know his climax is near. Sure enough, within a few seconds his seed spurts in my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, but some of it spills onto him. I lick every last drop from the head of his cock. But before I have a chance to do the same to his skin, he grabs me under the arms and raises me until we’re face-to-face. “I do believe we’re going to third base after all.”
Such a pronouncement makes my heart sing. I love it when I get my way with him.
His mouth is right over my groin, and he’s pulling down my pants when a knock sounds on the door. “Madrigal, are you in there?”
“Shoot.” I scramble off the bed and grab my bra, glad he didn’t toss it somewhere in the room. “It’s Olivia. I have to open the door. She won’t go away unless I do.”
He’s already rising from the bed, zipping his pants, snapping on my bra.
“You have to hide.”
“Where?”
I point out the obvious. “The closet. Where else? And close the door.”
“Madrigal. Are you okay? I’m worried about you, honey.” Olivia’s knocks are louder, more insistent.
“Coming.”
“I believe I did just that.” He gives me a hard kiss before he disappears into the closet, closing the door behind him as told.
I rush to straighten the bed and slip the wrinkled mess of a blouse back on.
After one last look at the room to make sure everything looks okay, I open the door and let Olivia in.
“Are you all right? You disappeared from the picnic.” Her gaze bounces around the room as if she’s looking for something, trying to discover some secret.
I follow her gaze, and that’s when I notice Trenton’s loafers. He’d kicked them off when he plopped down on my bed. Hoping Olivia hasn’t noticed, I rush over and nudge them away.
Brushing my hand against my forehead, I act out the wilting flower routine. “I had a headache. Too much sun, I guess. So I thought I’d come up and lie down for a bit.”
“Did you take some aspirin?”
“Yes.”
She searches the room some more, hunting for clues. But everything’s as it should be. Except for his scent. That I can’t disguise. Damn, where’s that can of air freshener when you need one?
Breathing out a soft sigh, she sits on the bed next to me. “Sweetheart, be careful.” She knows. “Your grandfather would get very upset if he found out about your . . . friendship with Trenton Steele.”
Friendship? Well, that’s one way of putting it. I don’t pretend not to know what she’s talking about. “I will.”
Giving my arm a soft squeeze, she rises. “I’ll let your grandfather know you’re not feeling well. That will keep him from coming up here to check on you. But just in case he does, I suggest you take care of matters so he has nothing to find.”
“Thank you, Olivia.” I hug her and kiss her cheek. She’s always been such a great friend and mentor to me.
“Good-bye, Mr. Steele,” she says before walking out the door.
I throw the lock before running to the closet to spring Steele from his hidey-hole.
“She knew.”
“Yes.” I can’t help but giggle. “She’s aces at detection. I never could keep anything from her.” I change into a fresh blouse while he studies me with his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry we never got to third base.” He cups my chin, brushes his lips against mine. His beard stubble as always tickles my skin.
“Me too.” I lead the way to the door. “I better go with you. If we run into somebody, I’ll just act like I’m giving you the tour.”
His brows scrunch. “The tour?”
“Of the house. It’s a historic site. You didn’t know?”
“Yes, I
knew. Not that Holden’s ever shared that information. He and I don’t exactly run in the same circles.”
Gramps is a snob who only hobnobs with individuals whose families can be traced back to colonial times. As far as Gramps is concerned, Trenton’s a member of the lower class, even if he is a partner in his firm. “You know how they all have those signs stating that George Washington slept here?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he actually did. Sleep here, I mean. In Gramps’s bedroom. Well, what is now Gramps’s bedroom. Our family and his were great friends.”
“Figures.”
I can’t quite decipher the look on his face. But his frown tells me it’s nothing good. Just before we walk out the door, he pulls me to him and kisses me. “Just so you know, tonight I’m going to dream about all the things I’d like to do to you in this room.”
I shiver. “Bastard.”
“Witch.”
And that’s the last word he says before we step out into a life that no longer fits.
CHAPTER 24
Trenton
After Madrigal gives me the grand tour of her grandfather’s mansion, I climb into my Jag and head back to an existence that feels emptier than usual. To keep from going stir-crazy, I call Charlie from my car to see if he’s made any progress in locating the detective in charge of her parents’ murder investigation.
“Glad you called, Steele. I was having no luck with the police departments, so on a hunch I tried searching detective license databases in every state. Hit pay dirt right off the bat. I located Detective Collins. In Arizona, of all places. He’s working out of Yuma as a private investigator.”
Thank fuck. Glad we finally got a lead on the bastard. “Did you call him?”
“Yep. Got the basics about the murders. Now don’t go and get excited. Nothing we didn’t know before. But he hinted he had quite a tale to tell. If you want more, it’s going to cost you.” His voice is filled with disgust.
“Whatever he wants, I’ll pay.”
“Chief, he wants $10,000.”
“He could be asking for a hundred thousand. Get me his banking information, and I’ll wire him the fucking money.”
“Okay. No need to tear off my head. I’m not the one cheating you out of your hard-earned cash.”
“It’s not cheating, damn it.”
“Yeah, it is. You’re so sweet on that girl, you’re not thinking. You haven’t thought straight since the day you met her. What is it about her?”
“None of your business, that’s what. Now go do your damn job. And stay out of my life.”
“Okay, Chief.” And he hangs up.
Damn, now I’m going to have to apologize to him. And after all he’s done too. But he’s right about Madrigal. And so is Mitch. I need to keep a professional distance between Madrigal and me, treat her like any other client. Problem is I can’t. I’m too far gone on her taste, the scent of her skin, the way I feel when I’m deep inside her to stay away.
By the time I make it home, Charlie has the private dick’s financial details. I call my bank and arrange the wire. Unfortunately, the money won’t go through right away. And something tells me the sooner I find out his tale, the better off we’ll be. After I ring back Charlie so that he can be in on the call, I telephone the PI with the transfer details.
“Detective Collins, Trenton Steele.”
“I’m just a private investigator now. You the lawyer wanting to know about the Berkeleys’ murders?”
“That’s right. Charlie White is an associate of mine.”
“Lost my job because of those damn murders.”
His words come through hard and bitter. I’m sure his love affair with the bottle had nothing to do with Arlington PD letting him go. Word has it he liked the hooch too much.
“I always knew somebody would come calling. Just didn’t think it would take ten years for anybody to wise up to the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That crime scene. Wasn’t right.” His slurred speech tells me he’s hit the bottle early. It can’t be more than three o’clock his time. But then it’s always five o’clock somewhere.
“What do you mean?”
“The bodies were staged to make it look like they’d both been murdered in their bedroom. He was, but she wasn’t. The woman’s body, Mrs. Berkeley. Blood wasn’t pooled beneath her. At all. Which means she was killed somewhere else. The husband died from a gunshot wound to the stomach. Whoever took that shot must have hated his guts. Took him hours to die.”
“Did you find out where she was killed?”
“No. And it wasn’t because we didn’t look. We did. Couldn’t find a thing in that big motherfucker of a house. We spent days investigating that case. And in the end we had nothing more than we had at the beginning. Two dead bodies.”
“You zeroed in on the handymen?”
“Yes.”
“How did that come about?”
“We looked at everyone that had anything to do with the house. Started with the family. The oldest daughter was away at a sleepover. The youngest was upstairs. She didn’t hear a damn thing. Thank God. Would have hated for someone that young to be traumatized by such a scene.”
“Did someone clue you in to the two handymen?”
“Yes. The damn cook. She heard them talking about breaking into the house to steal the TV. Well, as soon as I heard that, I got the details from their place of business and hunted them down. Found them in DC in this run-down house. One of them came after me. Shot him in the knee. The other one folded like an accordion. Said he hadn’t meant to do it. That the other one talked him into it.”
“What happened afterward?”
“What the fuck do you think? We arrested him and searched the house. Found all kinds of things from the Berkeleys’ home, including a picture frame with a photo of the Berkeleys. That lowdown thief told us he took it because they were such a pretty family. He wanted something to remember them by. Can you believe it?”
Yes, I can. They had made a beautiful family. Two dark-haired parents. One child the spitting image of her mother and the other a gold-haired tyke with brown eyes. Judging by the photo in Madrigal’s bedroom, Madison resembled Holden more than her parents.
“But then the case fell apart.”
“Yeah, that damn cook. Helga somebody. Wait a minute. Let me go through the file.”
My heart skips a beat. “You kept a file?”
“You bet I did. I kept separate files of all my cases. Just in the event things headed south.”
Hadn’t seemed to do him much good. But that file? It could be a gold mine. “I want a copy of it.”
“Sure you do, champ, but it’s going to cost you.”
Of course it will. “How much?”
“Another ten Gs.”
“I’ll send the additional money on Monday.” Can’t do it before then. The banks are closed on Sundays. And it’s too late now to start another wire transfer.
“As soon as I get it, I’ll overnight the file to you. Have to warn you, though. No photos. The damn police photographer wouldn’t share. Bastard.”
Doesn’t matter. We have the photos Madison took from the newspaper. Together with his file, we should be able to come up with a new theory of the crime.
“Here it is. My interview of the cook. She said she heard the skells talking about breaking into the house at night. But on the witness stand, she recanted her words. Said she never said such a thing. So it looked like I dreamed the whole thing up just so I could grab those sons of bitches.”
“And without that evidence?”
“We had no right to nab them or to search the house they were living in. Fruit of the poisonous tree or some legal mumbo jumbo. After the case was thrown out of court, I was put on administrative leave pending investigation. I knew what that meant. Saw the writing o
n the wall. Sure enough, it took them no time at all to let me go. And all because of that bitch.”
“What was her name?”
“Helga. Helga Carlsson.”
After he hangs up, I stay on the line with Charlie. “Do you think Collins is telling the truth?”
“Yeah, I do. He lost his job because of this case. He’s got nothing to gain by lying.”
Something about the case is terribly wrong. Nothing jibes with what Madrigal was told. Granted, I can ascribe Holden’s motive to trying to protect his granddaughter from the ugly facts of the murders. But my gut tells me it’s something much nastier.
“Charlie, do one more thing for me. After the Berkeleys’ murders, Madrigal was kept in a mental health facility for a year. She swears she shouldn’t have been kept there that long. Can you look into it and get back to me?”
“You suspect foul play?”
“I suspect something. Why would she be kept in a facility for a year when there was no need? And when it would be better for her to be with her family?” What remained of it, anyhow.
“Good questions.”
Yeah, with no answers. But I intend to find out.
CHAPTER 25
Madrigal
After escorting Trenton out the front door, I have no interest in returning to the picnic and Gramps’s guests. So I hole up in my room, dreaming about all the deliciously forbidden things he’d hinted at. I love the things he does to me.
Late in the afternoon, Madison knocks on my door. By now I’ve showered and put on fresh clothes, so there’s no evidence of Steele’s visit. At least not on me.
“How are you, squirt?”
“Wish you’d stopped calling me that. I’m not five anymore.”
“You’re right. You’re not.” I muss up her hair.
She steps away from me. “Stop. What’s got you in such a good mood?”
“Oh, work, life.”
With a heavy sigh and downturned lips, she drops on my bed. Something’s got her upset.
“Are you okay?”
She gives me a tight smile. “Peachy, thanks for asking.”
Sarcasm doesn’t suit her. “What’s wrong?”
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