Private Investigation

by Aidèe Jaimes

  Drawing little circles around the tight opening, I insert two fingers into her wet pussy, feeling her contract around them as I begin to thrust. She screams, and I know she’s coming when she stiffens without breathing, standing on her tiptoes. Then, just as suddenly, she relaxes.

  I pull away, reluctantly because I love the taste of her. She turns as I stand, looking high as shit and as if she’s ready for bed. But I’m not done.

  I push her back against the tile wall, lifting her until she wraps herself around me. Water pools between our bodies, pouring over our arms as our lips collide.

  There’s nothing but Eva and me in the swirling steam. I’m hungry for her, starved after already having had a taste of her. I impale her, driving myself to a frenzy just as I did before. With my face in her neck, I let go. I let go of thoughts about anything but her. Let go of my ghosts and my guilt. My past.

  I briefly revert to my primal self.

  But as the steam clears, and I lower Eva to her feet, I remember who I am. And what I’ve done.

  Eva’s put on a comedy on the TV in the living room and we’re sitting on the couch, watching. Or at least she is. I’m just pretending to, yet all the while, she’s the only thing I’m aware of.

  Her laughter makes me turn, and I observe her without her knowing. She’s giggling at something on the screen, her eyes crinkling gently at the edges.

  God, she looks so much like Lena, but even with that, it’s almost impossible for me to see her as anyone other than Eva now. It’s impossible not to see the subtle differences, the little things that make her unique. The slight upward curve of her eyes. The smaller nose and the tiny indentation right at the center of her chin. Though Lena had freckles, she often tried to hide them beneath make-up. Eva, on the other hand, has a darker smattering of them over the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. Too dark to hide, even if she wanted to.

  And when she turns to me and the clear gray of her eyes completely changes her face, any resemblance to Lena is completely gone. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, I can’t see her. Not anymore.

  I don’t know why a simple change in eye color can make a face so different.

  “Close your eyes,” I tell her without thinking.

  Eva’s smile vanishes as she assimilates my request, her expression asking, “Why?” But she does it.

  Her lids lower slowly, smothering the light that shone only a moment ago. “I can wear contacts if you want me to.” Insecurity fills her voice and it comes out in a tremble.

  She’s able to swallow down whatever emotion my request has evoked, but as for me…

  It wrecks me. I unintentionally shut the door to her soul, and I want back in. I want Eva back.

  I wipe a long lash that lies on her cheekbone. “It was just an eyelash. I didn’t want it to go in your eye.”

  When she smiles at me, the light has returned, and I realize I never want it to go away again.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks me.

  “Tomorrow is our last day together.”

  “Matthew, let’s not talk about that. It will ruin your experience.”

  “Eva.” I bring her face to mine until our foreheads touch.

  Her small hands wrap around my wrists. “Matt, stop.” The words are choked, almost inaudible.

  “Just one day with you. I want one day. Before it’s over.”

  “You don’t want me. I’m not like her, Matt. Everything you see is a lie. What you’ve seen…this is all Lena. I’m not real.”

  “I don’t believe that. I’ve seen you, Eva. Just show me something real from you.”

  When she nods, I kiss her. Not Lena. Not a memory. But a real woman who’s sitting here with me, warm and tender.

  Her arms come around my neck and her breath is in my ear. “Say my name again.”

  “Eva.”

  “It’s been so long since a man has said my name like that,” she admits, and it breaks my heart in a way I never would’ve imagined when I first learned of what she did. She’s never herself. Always playing the girlfriend, the toy. The wife.

  “So is that a yes?”

  “Yes,” she answers.

  “Where should we go?” I ask her. “Anywhere you want.”

  “You don’t like it here?”

  “I do. But not for us. There’s a ghost here. Tomorrow I want to be alone with you.”

  She thinks about it, chewing on her lower lip as she does. “There’s a little place in the Everglades, not far from here. It’s called Heaven’s Gate. I went there once. Years ago. Before all this.”

  “With a lover?” I ask. I don’t want any ghosts. Not mine. Not hers.

  “No. Alone. It’s quiet because it’s too far for tourists. I know the owner. She’d lend it to me if I ask.”

  “Would you get in trouble? You know, if you strayed?”

  “I’m a slave to many things, Matt, but Ember isn’t one of them. I decide who, when, or what.”

  “What are you a slave to, Eva?”

  She doesn’t answer that. Instead, she asks, “Would you like to do a longer day?”

  “Can we?”

  “I…I usually have to leave early because I have an errand that pretty much ties me up the rest of the day.”

  “And you don’t on Fridays?”

  “Well, if we could start later, I can make arrangements. It can be a sleepover.”

  I should be asking what kind of arrangements she’d make. A sitter for her two kids? What about her husband? But what really concerns me is the extra thousand or more this would cost.

  “Eva, I’m not sure if I can afford that extra time.” I’m embarrassed to say it, but it has to be said.

  “I’m not going to charge you for anything, Matt. This is for me. Is that okay?”

  I nod, and she jumps into my arms. “You’ll get the confirmation and address tonight. But I have to warn you, it’s a bit far and…different from this.”

  “Different is good.”

  “Yeah, sometimes.”

  “Eva?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you happy?”

  “I am right now. Are you? Even though you’re not fulfilling your desire?”

  “You are my desire.” I want to tell her more. I want to tell her that I can’t wait till tomorrow, that when we make love I’ll make sure she knows there’s no one else on my mind but her. That I’ll say her name over and over again.

  But I wait too long, and the words go unsaid. The clock chimes and there’s a knock on the door to let us know our time is up.

  She leans over and touches her lips to mine softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Matt.”

  “Tomorrow, Eva.”

  Chapter 20

  My dark Charger blends into the darkness of the night as, from a distance, I watch Eva’s house. The red car is in the driveway, and I assume Mr. Cage’s vehicle is parked in the garage. That is, unless he’s not home yet, which at this hour would make me wonder if there’s something he’s hiding? Maybe it’s him I should be following.

  So many nights I’ve been here and have yet to see the man.

  The light in the front room turns on, switching my thoughts from him to her. Is that her in that room? What’s she wearing?

  I close my eyes, remembering the way she felt when she was wearing nothing at all. The way she smelled. The sound of her husky voice as she cried out my name.

  There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ve lost my ability to think clearly. Now every thought is fragmented into pieces of Lena. Guilt. Lust. Eva. More guilt.

  Not only does it feel like I’m cheating on Lena’s memory, but I’m doing it with a married woman. Never in a million years would I have thought myself capable of such a stupid thing. Being a willing participant in adultery. Obsessing over another man’s wife when I should be mourning my own. Then again, I’ve never met someone that made me a mindless buffoon willing to do it.

  “Fuck me!” I need to stop. To drive away, give Justin my report, and end this shit. Forg
et about Eva and her damned gray eyes.

  There’s probably nothing there. I’m seeing nothing but a reflection of my own emotions. But what if I’m not? What if she really is tormented by something and I’m the only one who can help her. I let Lena down. I wasn’t there to save her when she needed me most. What if Eva is in the same position, and I walk away leaving her to her fate.

  Prostitution isn’t an occupation most women would choose, even if she insists she’s there because she wants to be.

  As I go around and around, chasing my damn tail, trying to figure out shit that’s so confusing I might as well be in a funhouse, my phone rings.

  “Grayson,” I answer.

  “Matty.” It’s my mother.

  “Ma.”

  “You’re up at midnight and you don’t sound one bit sleepy.”

  “Pot, meet kettle,” I retort.

  “I set my alarm just so I can call you to see if you’re awake at these godforsaken hours.”

  “All of my hours have been forsaken by God, Ma.”

  “Shut your mouth! Lord, he knows not what he says.”

  Chuckling as I imagine her looking to the heavens, I say, “So you set your alarm just to call me at midnight?”

  “I figured you’d answer your phone. Saw your brother yesterday. He brought your dad some of those chocolate donuts he likes, even though I clearly forbade it!”

  “Why are you yelling at me? I never take him donuts.”

  “That’s because you’re never here. Baby, you’ve been gone almost three weeks now. I heard Justin tell your father the case you’re on is a dead end. What’s the point of staying? Come home,” she insists.

  “I have one more day. And you know that one more day could make the difference. I’ll leave this weekend.”

  “I’m worried about you, Matty. You, in Naples. I just don’t like it.”

  “I don’t take those pills anymore, Ma. Not since that day.”

  “You don’t know the fear I feel thinking one of these days they’ll find you in a ditch.”

  Rolling my eyes because the woman can’t get off the ditch thing, I do my best to reassure her. “I promise that the next time I lose control, it won’t be near a ditch.” Nope. No more ditches for me. At this rate, they’re more likely to find me in front of Eva’s house, a hopeless skeleton who wasted away while waiting for a woman he couldn’t have. Cause of death: EOD (Eva Obsessive Disorder).

  “All right, my baby. Please come see us as soon as you get home.”

  “Will do.”

  The moment I hang up the phone buzzes again.

  “What is it now, Ma?”

  “Mr. Grayson?” The voice sounds familiar, smoky.

  Pulling the thing away from my ear, I see that it’s, in fact, a call from a blocked number. “Yes.”

  “This is Ember. I have the address you’ll be meeting at tomorrow.”

  “What, Carlos quit so now I have to drive myself?” I ask.

  “Number twelve has waived her right to a guard,” she replies.

  “Guess she trusts me.”

  “Keep in mind, Mr. Grayson, just because there won’t be a guard there doesn’t mean she’s defenseless. Carlos is nothing more than a witness. All of our contractors are perfectly capable of neutralizing a threat, and for you, it’d be no different.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  I want to tell her that I’ve seen Eva walking around completely clueless about the people around her. But I can appreciate her being concerned for her girl and wanting to make me a little scared, even if it’s unnecessary.

  “Please arrive no later than six thirty in the evening. The address will come to you in a text, as it did before. Thank you for doing business with Ember.” The phone call ends just like that.

  A few minutes later, I get the address. When I look it up, I find that it’s located smack dab in the center of the Everglades, about thirty minutes south.

  Fuck. I really am following this woman straight to hell.

  Chapter 21

  I’ve never liked the swamp. There’s nothing out here but gators and bugs.

  That’s part of the reason I migrated north from Tampa once I was old enough. Though as I drive down through the wild side of Naples, away from fancy cars and sunburned tourists, I start to really enjoy the peacefulness of it all.

  I can see why it would appeal to some people. The lone highway is lined with tall grasses and mangroves. Lakes peek through the heavy shrubbery here and there, reflecting the sun as I go by. Birds of every kind, long-legged ones with slender beaks and huge wingspans, little ones with round bodies and colorful chests. Once upon a time, I knew what they were called, but I’ve since forgotten, discarding it as useless information. Now I wish I could remember so that I could tell Eva what I saw on the way.

  As if State Road 951 wasn’t wild enough, when I make a right turn down a path that’s cut into the landscape, I have to trust that I won’t end up window deep in murky water, eye to eye with something that wants to eat me. And in this area, there are a lot of hungry man-sized creatures. However, this is the way my phone is telling me to go.

  A mile down the road, I finally come to a mailbox. Gravel crunches under my tires as I go up the narrow path that’s surrounded by sawgrass and brambles.

  A small, simple blue structure on stilts comes into view. Eva’s red car is parked by the wooden steps that lead to the front door. She’s waiting for me at the top of the stairs, waving happily when she sees me.

  My heart skips a beat at the sight of her. All pretenses—well, most pretenses gone. She’ll be herself. She’ll be mine all night. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll finally find out what darkens her soul.

  I step out, grabbing my duffel bag.

  “You’re late.” Her hands come around my neck, and she brings me down for a deep kiss, letting me know she’s not as annoyed as she’s putting on.

  “I turned around once. Thought I’d gotten lost. What in the world are you doing out here?”

  “Welcome to Heaven’s Gate.” She points to a sign above the door written by hand in turquoise paint.

  “Fancy.”

  “Okay, so this is just protocol. But I need to search you.”

  “Right.” I set my bag down, stretching my arms out to the side.

  A naughty smile touches her lips as she begins her pat-down, running her hands over my gray and white striped button-up shirt, bending oh so provocatively to search my pants. When she makes contact with my dick, she looks up, raising a brow. “Looks like you’re packing something big, mister.”

  “You would know.”

  “Yes. I would.”

  “Eva. I don’t have a weapon on me, but there’s a pistol in my duffel bag.”

  She opens the bag, taking out my SIG. With ease, she removes it from the holster, pulling back the slide to see a bullet chambered. When she drops the mag into her hand without hesitation, I realize she knows her way around a gun.

  “You keep one in the chamber? You know that’s dangerous.”

  “I know. Do you?” I ask because I want to find out if she’s also “packing.”

  “Yes.” She shoves the mag back in and sets the gun in my bag.

  “Are you armed right now?” I ask her.

  “Would you like to check?”

  “I won’t turn that down.” I bring her to me, kissing her as my hands roam her body. There’s no way she could have anything on her, not with her tight black spaghetti strap shirt and torn jean shorts. No, whatever she’s got is in the house, of that I’m sure. I pull away, breathless. “So you like guns?”

  “No. But I like the power that knowing how to use one gives me. I never leave the house without it. It’s only at work that I conceal it somewhere other than my body. But believe me, it’s never too far away. And neither are my knives. Come on, let me give you the grand tour.” Taking my hand, she tugs me inside the small shack.

  There isn’t much more to it on the inside. The white washed walls do little to b
righten up the place, but it’s clean and organized. Entering through the small living room, I see a tan chenille couch with a patchwork quilt thrown over the back and a wooden rocking chair in the corner.

  “This is the kitchen,” she says.

  I peek inside. It’s a galley style kitchen that rather than being updated has simply been painted, again and again from the looks of it. “The person who owns this place likes blue, I see.”

  Eva chuckles, the sound of it touching that part inside of me that only she’s been able to find. “Too much, possibly.”

  “Well, I would have stopped at blue walls. The cabinets take it over the top. But at least that door’s not blue.” I point to a single door that leads out to a side deck.

  “It’s glass, smart ass.” She slaps my shoulder. “I like blue. It soothes me.”

  “I prefer gray, like your eyes.”

  “Hmm. Gray like a gloomy day, more like.” We walk back through the living room to a hallway with three doors. “This is the bathroom. Just be sure to check for snakes before you plant your tush there.”

  “Lovely.”

  “What? You didn’t camp when you were a kid?” she asks, snickering.

  “I did. That’s when I learned it wasn’t for me.”

  “Maybe that’s why I like it. My parents weren’t really the outdoor type.” She shrugs. “And this is the master bedroom. Ours for the night. You don’t snore, do you?”

  “I guess you’ll find out tonight. Will that thing hold us? Looks like it was made in the eighteen hundreds.” I give the thin-railed bed a wary look. It reminds me of those beds you’d see in a sanitarium. Or an asylum. Perhaps that’s what it was meant to be.

  “It was made in 1845. And it will hold us. Just be happy it’s got a real mattress and not hay stuffed into a bag.”

  “At least it’s not blue, though the yellow might keep us awake.”

  Coming closer to me, she walks her fingers up my chest. “I’m hoping we’re up all night anyway.”

  I smile back at her appreciatively, then we continue my tour.