Blood Stains

by Sharon Sala

  “Open wide.”

  He obliged, rolling his eyes in mock delight as the batter hit his tongue. It made Maria laugh, which was all he was shooting for.

  He gave her a quick kiss, noting the slight chocolate taste, and then began putting up the groceries.

  Maria watched as a feeling of deep satisfaction swept through her. This was how she felt with her family back in Montana. Warm. Safe. Confident that she was loved.

  It had never occurred to her that she could make a new family somewhere else and still feel the same contentment, but life here in Tulsa was proving her wrong. Sam and Becky were family to each other, and once she’d belonged to that family, too. Now she was in the act of reestablishing her place.

  Bodie had his own branch of family on the Claremore ranch. She had yet to meet them, but she was eager to. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would fit in there, as well.

  Then he turned around and caught her staring, and the look that passed between them made her ache. She’d better figure out a way to fit into his family, because he was already the perfect fit in her heart. And right at that moment, she made a calculated decision. Tonight was the night. No more guff or playing the hero from Bodie Scott. She wanted him in her life, in her heart, and as deep between her legs as he could go. Then she shivered. The mere thought of how it would feel was making her hot.

  Just to make him nervous, she smiled.

  When he suddenly flinched and dropped the liter of pop he was holding, she grinned to herself, then looked away. Oh, yeah. He was way past ready, too.

  The moment passed, and the cake cooled enough for the frosting to go on. Sam was in the living room watching TV. Bodie was in his office, and Becky was getting out plates to serve the cake, when Bodie’s cell phone began to ring. Maria grabbed it from the counter and headed toward his office.

  He had heard the ringing and was on his way down the hall when she met him halfway. He took the phone out of her hand, and at the same time slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her senseless.

  Before she could take a breath, he’d flipped the phone open and answered, but he held her close and began doing a slow two-step to an imaginary song as he spoke.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Dave said. “They found Tom Jack Bailey…in pieces. He was in his own farm pond with a bullet hole in his head. Looks like whoever hired him to kill Maria was pissed off because he missed.”

  Bodie went suddenly still.

  Maria could tell it wasn’t good news.

  “Dammit,” Bodie said. “That’s two dead hit men and still no clue as to who’s the man behind the money.”

  Maria frowned. This must mean the bomber was dead and they’d found the body.

  “No, not a hint,” Dave said. “But we have one interesting bit of news I thought you might want to hear.”

  Bodie glanced down at Maria again, then kissed the tip of her nose.

  She cupped his butt with her hands and slid beneath his arm until they were standing face-to-face. She smiled, knowing whoever Bodie was talking to had no idea that he was doing an admirable job of making out with her in the middle of their conversation.

  Bodie’s muscles tensed as his eyes narrowed. She was playing with fire and didn’t know it.

  “So what’s the good news?” he muttered, as he turned and backed Maria against the wall.

  She stifled a moan as he did a little bump and grind, then hid her face against his chest.

  “You know that theory you had that Maria’s father might be the one who killed Sally Blake?”

  Bodie stilled. All his playfulness stopped.

  Maria felt the shift in focus and knew something important was being said.

  “What about it?” Bodie asked.

  “On a hunch, I had the crime lab run the blood from Nora’s killer to see if it matched that old DNA test you found in Sally Blake’s things. Well, guess what, partner? It’s a match. The man Sally claimed was Mary’s father is the same man who shot Nora and left a trail of his own blood as he ran.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Bodie whispered, then looked down at Maria. How did a man get so fucked up that he was willing to off his own child? “That’s huge. Have you guys found anything on the phone records of our two dead hit men? Like maybe the same number showing up on both?”

  “Yeah. We already covered that. There are phone numbers on both we can’t confirm because they’re throw-aways. Whoever is behind this is smart. He knows what the cops look for. He knows how to hide his tracks.”

  “Except he didn’t expect to bleed all over that hotel.”

  “Yeah, karma’s a bitch,” Dave said. “You guys take care.”

  “And you keep me in the loop,” Bodie countered.

  Dave grinned. “No problem. Oh. The guys wanted me to ask you to be sure and take lots of pictures. We’re all interested in seeing the sights you’re enjoying on your vacation.”

  “You tell the guys to go screw themselves. And when they’re done…go find the killer. He’ll know soon enough that Maria Slade isn’t dead,” Bodie drawled, then dropped the phone in his pocket and turned his attention back to Maria.

  Maria was holding her breath. Something bad had happened, and she was afraid to ask, especially after the way Bodie had signed off. But she had to know.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh…the guys at the office are just a bunch of clowns.”

  “So nothing’s wrong?”

  He sighed, then lowered his head until their foreheads were touching.

  Maria could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. But something was wrong. She could feel it.

  “Bodie?”

  “Remember that DNA test we found in the baby book your mother made?”

  “Yes.”

  “It matched the blood found in the hall outside the hotel room…your hotel room…where Nora was killed.”

  It took a few moments for reality to sink in, and when it did, Maria pulled out of his arms, needing space to absorb the blow from the truth.

  “No,” she finally said.

  “Yes, baby. There’s no mistake.”

  She started to shake. “This man. This Frankie who is my father and who wanted to put me in a sack and throw me in the river? Purposefully…knowingly…stood outside the door to what he believed was my room, put a gun to the peephole and pulled the trigger, thinking it was me?”

  “Yes. I’m so sorry, baby.”

  Maria couldn’t take a full breath. The air felt heavy. Her body was frozen in place as shock spread through her. But another emotion was growing that made her feel as if she was about to split in two.

  “Maria. Are you okay?”

  She glared. “What the hell do you think?”

  “I think you’re not.”

  “Well, you’d be right,” she snapped. “It seems that remark he made about throwing me in the river wasn’t just bullshit after all.”

  Bodie’s eyes narrowed. He’d been waiting for her to burst into tears. He hadn’t been expecting anger.

  Maria lifted her chin and doubled up her fists.

  “So that son of a bitch wants me dead, does he? He must be a real fuckup! When it comes to everything related to my mother’s murder, except for killing her, he hasn’t been able to do anything right.”

  Sam heard all the shouting and came into the hall, almost as angry as Maria looked.

  “What’s happening?” he growled.

  Maria turned, her eyes blazing. “My sperm donor is still trying to eradicate his little weed. I’m going to eat cake. Anyone want to join me?”

  Ignoring the twinges of pain, she stomped down the hall and out of sight while the men stood and watched.

  Confused, Sam turned to Bodie. To his surprise, the cop was grinning from ear to ear.

  “What the hell just happened?” Sam asked.

  “My Maria is getting well,” Bodie said. “That cake sounds good. Want to join us?”

  Sam threw up his hands. “What
the hell. If it will get me some answers, I’ll eat cake.”

  Twenty

  M aria plowed through two pieces of chocolate cake so fast that Bodie thought she would choke. He was afraid to offer so much as a glass of milk for fear he would get it back in his face.

  But it was a revealing time for him. At least he knew that in the years to come, if he ever made her mad, he would either need chocolate or would have to make himself scarce.

  Becky and Sam had gotten the rundown on the news, and both were staggered by it. Becky couldn’t look at Maria without wanting to burst into tears. The thought that a man could so coldly put a gun to what he thought was the face of his own flesh and blood and pull the trigger without a second thought was chilling.

  They’d seen Maria’s reaction and knew the last thing she needed was talk. Sam had taken his cake to his motor home, and Becky packed up a piece and went home.

  Bodie stuck it out with Maria, eating his cake without talking, then quietly getting up and putting his plate in the sink. Before he could turn around, she was behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and burying her face against his back.

  “I wasn’t mad at you.”

  His heart swelled as he covered her hands with his own.

  “I know, baby.”

  He turned, then caught her gaze. The fire was still in her eyes, but the tension in her body was gone.

  “This is hell,” she said.

  “We’ll get through it together.”

  “Are we alone?”

  He nodded.

  “Lock the doors. I want to make love.”

  Bodie felt his heart stop, then kick back into rhythm in double time. He headed for the back door, turned the locks and took her by the hand, then led her into the hall and put a finger against her breast.

  “You. In my bed.”

  He pivoted sharply, heading for the living room as Maria made a move toward his room, stripping off her clothes as she went.

  By the time Bodie got back to the hall, he was running. The trail of clothing almost stopped him in his tracks, but he felt the challenge. She was still mad—as mad as a woman could be and not burst into flames. But she was channeling it into a need for sex. The most basic reminder of life.

  He pulled his shirt over his head and started walking.

  She was in the middle of the bed, flat on her back with her arms over her head. The thrust of her breasts was defiant. He felt like she’d just flipped him off.

  A muscle jerked at the side of his jaw. It was the only hint of emotion.

  He stripped where he stood. When he dropped his shorts, his erection was already an undeniable fact. He watched her eyes glaze and her lips grow slack, and imagined he could feel the heat from her body from where he was standing.

  “Open your legs.”

  Maria shuddered. She heard him, but her body felt as if she’d shifted into slow motion. She felt her legs move almost of their own volition. When he started toward her, she moaned.

  If he didn’t hurry, she was going to climax without him.

  “I need—”

  “I know what you need,” Bodie said, and slid between her legs so fast he was in her before she knew it.

  She was slick and hot, and he felt her climax coming before his first thrust. Just to make things interesting, he hammered home the point that she wasn’t the only one burning with a need to explode.

  Maria’s scream was at the back of her throat when he put his mouth over hers and swallowed the sound. She tried to hold on—to think, to move—but the rage of her passion took her by surprise. She thought she would die from the jolt and the force as her body betrayed her. It was over before it had begun. She was the vessel, and he was the means of filling her as the climax took her up and up and up, rolling through her body in wave upon wave of blood-rush.

  When it peaked, she gave herself up to the fall, knowing that the little death that came with it would be worth the pain.

  Moment after moment, her body shook and her heart beat raced, and she rode the feeling back to sanity and reason. She had no sense of self, or of the fact that Bodie was still inside her, hard and pulsing, as yet unfulfilled. She couldn’t see him for the haze of red before her eyes.

  Had she died?

  Was this heaven, or had she fallen into hell?

  She did not know her hands were fisted in his hair, or that he was counting the racing beats of her pulse pounding at the base of her throat.

  This wasn’t sex.

  It wasn’t love.

  It was a mating between two forces of equal power.

  Then finally, finally, Bodie heard what he’d been listening for.

  A sigh.

  Her heart was silent. Her rage was spent.

  And he was still inside her. Hard and focused. Waiting. Waiting. For her to open her eyes.

  She took a slow, shaky breath, then looked up.

  Bodie was covered in a sheen of pure sweat, born of restraint.

  “Mine.”

  When he spoke, her heartbeat ricocheted once, then stilled. He hadn’t asked. He’d informed. It was only fair that she acknowledge the fact.

  “Yes.”

  “This is for you, so that you never forget.”

  Then he started to move, this time following his heart and not her heat, taking the time to wind her back up and then let her go—all over again. Only this time he went with her, spilling his seed with such force that he forgot to breathe.

  Franklin Sheets was but a shadow of his former self. He hadn’t been to the office in days, claiming illness, claiming migraines, claiming anything he could come up with to get his secretary off his back. He’d canceled appointments, rescheduled court dates, lost clients, made more enemies than he’d had before, and nothing mattered.

  He’d lost the clear focus of the trial lawyer he had been. He was a walking, talking vehicle of revenge. And he was losing his grip on sanity.

  He didn’t remember that Sally was already dead. In his mind, the clone-like image of her daughter had turned into its own time machine, sending him twenty years into the past, reminding him of the mistake he had made in ever getting involved with such a slut.

  He’d been tricked by her beauty, then caught up in the hot rabbit sex. She was a good lay. No one could fault her for that. But the bitch couldn’t read or write, and bedded others as readily as him. What the hell ever made her think they were a couple, he didn’t know. Racked with a low-grade fever and unshaven, he thought of nothing but shutting Sally’s mouth.

  But he couldn’t find her. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been with that cowboy cop. Which meant…since the woman he’d killed in Sally’s hotel room had turned out not to be her, that the cowboy cop had been in on the bait and switch.

  He already knew the cop’s name from the dossier Ed Underwood had mailed.

  Bodie Scott.

  Detective Bodie Scott.

  Homicide.

  Murder.

  Which was fitting, considering that was what he intended to commit.

  But when he’d called the precinct—using an alias, of course—and asked to speak to him, he’d been told Scott was on vacation.

  A lie.

  Obviously.

  But he’d let it slide.

  He swiped a spoonful of mayonnaise across the bread he had out, then added the meat and cheese, stacked another mayonnaise-slathered slice of bread on top, and bit into it with animal-like force.

  He glanced at the clock as he chewed. Nearly 7:00 p.m.

  He took another bite, unaware of the blob of mayo hanging at the corner of his mouth, and scanned Ed Underwood’s file, making a mental note of Homicide Detective Bodie Scott’s home address.

  The son of a bitch.

  He was helping Sally hide.

  So as soon as he finished eating, he was going to pay Scott a visit. If the lights were on, he was going to bet the rest of his life that was where the Tulsa P.D. had hidden her. Then he was going to take her out, her and the cop both, and end
this bullshit once and for all.

  He finished his food, swiped a napkin across his mouth, then moved toward his office. He needed his gun and silencer, a flashlight and some extra ammo, just in case. The only thing different this time around was the cop, so he would take him out first. Problem solved. Killing Sally would be easy. He’d already done it once before.

  Sam couldn’t sleep. Every nerve in his body was on edge. He’d walked the perimeter of Bodie’s place twice and seen nothing to give him pause. The lights were on inside the house, but he didn’t feel like talking, so he’d gone back into the motor home, but without bothering to turn on his own lights. Instead, he’d gone to the fridge, gotten himself a beer and then settled down in front of the windows in the dark to drink his beer with a good view of the street and the house.

  With the help of his GPS, Franklin drove right to Bodie Scott’s house, but he didn’t stop. This first pass was a test run to check out the site. Seeing the lights on inside the house had been a confirmation that he was right. No way did the cop decide to go on vacation when he’d been lead detective on the reopened case.

  What pissed off Franklin was that she’d been here all the time. If he’d only known, he wouldn’t have wasted time with the hotel, and he wouldn’t have gotten himself shot.

  It was the same with a trial. Just when you thought you had it in the bag, there was always a surprise.

  Yeah, life could be a bitch, and then it got worse.

  It was always something.

  But he knew how to take care of business. He’d proven that time and time again. He would fix this and then get his life right back on track. He would.

  He took a second run past the house, going slower this time to verify the location of doors and windows, then turned at the corner for another run around the block, this time checking out the number of neighbors who were gone or in bed. The fewer witnesses reporting a disturbance, the easier it was to get away.

  Sam knew that several of Bodie’s neighbors had teenagers, which meant plenty of coming and going.

  But he knew cars. And he’d picked up instantly on the fancy headlights and taillights of a Mercedes as it drove slowly past the house, and thought to himself that there was a car he’d always wanted to drive.

  It wasn’t until he saw it go past the second time, and even slower, that his instincts kicked in. It cost a bundle to drive a car like that. And it cost money to hire a killer, no matter how inept they were. Even if he was jumping to conclusions—even if it was nothing but a false alarm—he wouldn’t let anything else happen to Mary on his watch. He reached for his cell phone.