by Shelly Bell
Dreama wasn’t an idiot. She knew this was more than a test. It was Meg who couldn’t handle her workload. She needed Dreama’s help and instead of admitting it, she’d packaged it as a way to help Dreama.
She’d call Meg’s bluff. Even if Meg was lying and there wasn’t an open supervisor position, Dreama would prove she could manage whatever Meg threw at her. “You have yourself a deal,” she said.
If in a month Meg didn’t recommend Dreama for a supervisory position, Dreama would go over Meg’s head and report that Dreama had been completing Meg’s work for her.
Either way, there was no way Dreama could lose.
The rest of the day was a blur of activity. Every time she had a moment to breathe, Meg would give her some other task to do. Her poor mother was probably having an apoplectic fit since Dreama had ignored all eight of her phone calls. Frankly, Dreama didn’t care what her mother was worried about this time. She needed to learn not to bother Dreama during work hours.
In addition to the appointments with her parolees and the usual documentation that came with them, Dreama had written two memos in Meg’s name and prepared the office’s monthly statistical report. Seeing she’d be working late, Dreama had quickly texted Cash earlier in the day to ask him to come over after nine. It was good planning because while she normally finished work between five and six, she didn’t get out of her office until eight that night.
In the end, working extra hours was going to be worth it. Dreama would get that supervisor’s position and beat Meg at her own game.
It was another cold and snowy drive home, but Dreama was more content than she had been in a long time. Not even the ache in her legs could bring her down. Everything in her life seemed to be coming together for her. She had the new opportunity to advance her career, had mended her friendship with Jane, and with Cash’s help, was on her way to completely beating her phobia.
Forcing the memories of last night out of her head today had been incredibly difficult. She could practically still taste Cash on her lips. Having his mouth on hers had been one of the more erotic experiences of her life.
The only thing that could ruin it, other than Meg finding out about them, was her secret about Cash’s parentage. She still didn’t know how to approach the issue with him. Last night, she hadn’t gotten the chance, but she couldn’t keep the information from him any longer. He deserved to know. She’d find a way to tell him tonight.
In her apartment lobby, she waved to the guard.
“Good evening, Ms. Agosto. I’ve got a package for you back here,” he said, getting up from his chair and bending over to retrieve something.
Huh. She wasn’t expecting anything.
The guard stepped out from behind his desk, a long white box tied with a red bow in his arms. “Looks like someone sent you roses.”
Warmth bloomed in her chest. The last time she’d gotten flowers was college graduation, and those were from her parents. She’d never received flowers from a man.
Cash must have sent them.
When the guard transferred the box to her, she was surprised by the weight of it. “Thank you.”
Upstairs in her apartment, she set the box on her coffee table and removed her coat, shoving it off her shoulders and leaving it on the couch. She was too excited to worry about keeping her place clean. Besides, Cash was probably used to her messes by now.
After kicking off her boots, she dropped to her knees and slid the pretty ribbon off the box. Maybe she’d answer the door for Cash wearing the bow—the bow and nothing else.
Giggling to herself, she lifted the top off the box.
She stared at the object inside, not sure what she was seeing. It took a moment for it to sink in.
Her stomach cramped and bile climbed her throat.
Cash hadn’t sent her flowers.
Cash hadn’t sent this at all.
In place of the long-stemmed roses she’d expected lay a wooden baseball bat.
This wasn’t a gift of endearment.
It was a death threat.
TWENTY-FOUR
Growing more and more concerned, Cash knocked on Dreama’s door again. She had to be in there. The guard downstairs had mentioned she’d just gotten home a few minutes ago. There was probably a good explanation as to why she wasn’t answering—maybe she was in the shower—but his stomach was roiling with unease. His concern intensified when he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and found the door unlocked. He pushed it open and stormed inside. “Dreama?”
Relief washed through him as he immediately spotted her on the carpet between the couch and the coffee table. “I’ve been knocking for five minutes. Why didn’t you answer?”
Remaining as still as a statue, she didn’t acknowledge having heard him. She was on her knees, still in her work clothes, staring at the box in front of her.
Beside him, Butch whined, trying to break free of Cash’s hold on his leash. Cash crouched down and unhooked the leash from the dog’s collar. “Go get her, Butch.”
Butch’s tag jingled against the metal of his collar as he padded over to Dreama. He bumped his nose up against Dreama’s side, announcing his presence and signaling he wouldn’t mind if she petted him.
Cash came around the couch, getting his first view of what was inside the box. What the hell? Someone had sent her a baseball bat.
He knelt on the floor, Butch between them. “Dreama, where did you get this?”
“Downstairs,” she said, still staring at the bat. “I thought you sent me flowers.”
Anger swelled before giving way to acquiescence. He would let the past die and stop his search for the truth. Whatever he’d overheard the night Maddie died, it wasn’t worth risking Dreama’s life. “We’ve let this go on long enough. You have to call the police and file a report. Tell them about the car that tried to run you down two weeks ago, the photo sent to you that was taken outside Club X, this baseball bat. Everything.”
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Someone probably sent this as a joke,” she said flatly.
He wanted to take her over his knee and spank some sense into her. “You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”
“No, but what else am I supposed to think? The guy who hurt me is dead.”
He had done this to her—him and his secrets. “This isn’t about you,” he admitted. “It’s about me. The woman who was recently killed with a baseball bat. That was my coworker, Nancy. Last night, another one of my coworkers, Laci, was murdered the same way.”
Her face lost its coloring. “What?”
He lifted himself off the floor and sat on the couch. “The police came by the shelter to speak with me. This was the second time, but it seems like they’re narrowing down their list of suspects. A witness reported they saw a man fitting my description leaving Laci’s house late last night.”
Something about the way Detective Henry had phrased that had bothered him all day. Cash was six foot three. With less than 4 percent of men being taller than six foot two in this country, the chance that the killer was around his height seemed highly unlikely. Either the cop had lied to him in the hope that Cash would suddenly confess or someone had intentionally given Cash’s description.
Dreama’s coloring began to return. She joined him on the couch. “You were with me the whole night.”
He sighed. “Rebecca lied and told them I was home with her.”
“You know I met her,” she said, absentmindedly petting the top of Butch’s head. The fact that she hadn’t asked about the dog’s presence yet showed that she was still in shock. “I came yesterday morning to do your home visit, but you were out. She’s sweet. She’s also very smart. I think she suspects something is going on between us.”
Cash covered his face with his hands. Rebecca had taken him in when he’d gotten out of prison and how did he repay her? He’d not only put her in the position where she felt as if she had to lie to the police to protect him, but he�
��d also placed her life in danger.
He dragged his fingers down his cheeks. “She won’t say anything if we don’t want her to, but, Dreama, I think we’re going to have to stop our investigation and tell the police about us. The closer I get to the truth about what happened the night of the accident, the more I put you and Rebecca at risk.”
She angled toward him. “You think it’s Browner?”
“Or Kevin Sanders. Jay Moran. Or Thomas. Hell, it could be all of them. I might have had some champagne for a toast with Thomas, but after remembering pieces of that night, I’m almost certain I wasn’t drunk and it seems unlikely Moran, Sanders, or even Thomas saw me drinking inside the tent.” He’d gone over and over it. He still had no idea what he’d overheard that night, but he knew whatever it was had resulted in the deaths of three women.
He wouldn’t allow it to be four.
Dreama scratched Butch under his jaw. “I thought you were close to Thomas at one time. Do you really think he could be capable of murder?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t.” Cash couldn’t discount the fact that everything came back to what happened at Lundquist’s party eight years ago.
Dreama gave him a little smile. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room—I mean, the dog?”
“I was wondering when you’d mention it,” he said, relieved she was no longer in shock. “I can’t possibly protect both you and Rebecca at the same time. That’s why I brought Butch.”
Her brows dipped. “Did you adopt him?”
He rubbed Butch’s back. “Not exactly. He’s for you. To keep you safe.”
“Cash, I told you, I can’t have a dog in my life right now.”
He decided to go with a different angle. “He’s got nowhere else to go. If I didn’t get him out of the shelter, Rebecca would be forced to euthanize him to make space for a younger, healthier dog.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why can’t you take him?”
“Rebecca has her cats.” He leaned toward her. “And it would make me feel better to have him with you.”
“Fine. I’ll take him for now, so long as you try and find a more suitable owner for him.”
“Deal,” he said, knowing there was no one more suitable than Dreama. He’d bring up the dog crate and all the supplies from his car before he left. Butch had already bonded to Dreama and it wouldn’t be long before Dreama bonded to him. Besides, she could protest all she liked, but he’d heard the wistfulness in her voice when she told him she’d wanted a dog as a child.
She looked down at her lap. “I don’t think we should report this to the police.”
He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times to keep from saying what was on his mind. It didn’t work. “Are you insane?”
“We still don’t have any evidence,” she pointed out. “This will only give the cops more ammunition to use against you. Think about it, the bat was sent as a warning. Whoever delivered this to me still hopes we’ll drop our investigation. He’s using me as collateral. Otherwise, he would’ve just killed me already. If we go to the police, who’s to say they’ll even listen to me? If anything, it would strengthen the case against you and we could lose our shot at finding out the truth about what happened.”
She’d crafted a rational, well-thought-out argument.
But he was calling bullshit. “All that is true, but I don’t buy that’s your only reason. What aren’t you telling me?”
She bit down on her lip. “There’s an open supervisor’s position. Meg is going to recommend me for it.”
Was she kidding? He jumped to his feet, startling Butch. “You’re willing to risk your life for a job? I thought we discussed this already and that I’d gotten through to you.”
She popped up from the couch and strode away from him before flipping around. “Don’t you get it? Do you know what it’s like to have a mother who thinks you’re not good enough—not smart enough—to make it on your own?” She put her hand on her chest. “Because I do.”
He stayed quiet, knowing now was a time for listening.
“I have attention deficit disorder,” she said. “Before my diagnosis, I did terrible in school. I thought I was stupid, and rather than find out why I had trouble learning, my mother coddled me. She said that it was okay if I didn’t get good grades or go to college because I could live at home and work at my aunt and uncle’s bakery like so many of my other cousins. She told me someday I’d marry a man who would take care of me and protect me. That my real job was to support my husband and raise children. I don’t judge anyone for choosing that life if that’s what they want. But that was never my dream and it hurt that my mother didn’t know me at all.”
Her eyes shone with tears. It was clear how much her mother’s words had hurt her.
She took a ragged breath. “When I was finally diagnosed and got on the right medication, she didn’t change her opinion of me even when I pulled straight As. So, I set out to prove her wrong. I went to college and got my social work degree.” She swept her arm out, motioning to the room. “I’m a slob.” She raised her chin defiantly. “While I enjoy sexual domination, I don’t want or need any man to take care of me. And I’ll never have children.”
He got that. He really did. His mother had always supported his dreams, but he’d disappointed her. First when he’d knocked up Maddie and then again, when he’d gone to prison for Maddie’s death. But unlike Dreama’s mother, she’d never shown it. “So, you think if you get a promotion, she’ll…what…finally accept you?”
“No. I don’t know. It sounded better in my head.” She ran her hand through her hair. “I realize she’ll never change, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping she will.”
“And Meg?” he prodded. “Tell me this isn’t about your silly competition with her.”
“It’s not silly. I deserve the supervisor’s position.” Her shoulders slumped. “If we go to the police, I’ll have to tell them about us. My career will be over. It will prove what my mother and Meg thought about me all along.”
He understood now what motivated her, but how could she not see how wrong they were? “Dreama, you have nothing to prove, but if you need a testimonial, I’ll give you one. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. After what you went through last year, you could have followed the path your mother set out for you. Instead, you moved out of your parents’ house and returned to work. You fight for what’s right and you’re passionate about what you believe.” He winked at her. “Oh, and you give the world’s best head.”
A tear spilled over on her laugh. “Thank you.” Her eyes were red and she looked exhausted.
He still didn’t agree with her about not reporting everything to the police, but for tonight, he’d let her rest. They hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep this past week. He’d come back in the morning and work on changing her mind. If he could split himself in two, he would. But while Dreama was safe in a guarded apartment and had Butch, Rebecca was alone in the house with no protection.
“If you think you’re okay here for the night, I should go,” he said quietly. “I need to get home to my sister.”
Her hand shot out and stopped him from leaving. She curled her fingers around the top of his biceps. “Could you stay? Just a little while, until I fall asleep? I can’t help feeling like this could be the last time we’ll be together like this.”
Heat darted through him and his cock stiffened. He hoped he never got used to her touch. “I promise it won’t be,” he said more confidently than he felt. He smiled down at her and jutted his chin toward her room. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
Once there, she removed her work clothes and put on a set of SpongeBob pajamas while he remained dressed from the waist down. After turning out the lights, he slid under the sheets and blankets with her. Butch lay down on the carpet just inside the room.
Cash had known Butch would be an incredible watchdog. The dog reminded him of himself.
Dreama tossed the barrier of pillows to
the floor. “Hold me?”
He forgot to take a breath. “Are you sure?”
She inched closer. “I’m sure.”
“There’s nothing I’d like more.” His hand was surprisingly steady as he slowly lowered it onto her shoulder and touched her for the first time. He sighed when his fingers met the warm, soft skin of her neck. It was like coming home after a lifetime of being away.
She momentarily lifted herself so that he could slide his arm beneath her and roll her to his chest. Bliss washed over him. Dreama was finally where she belonged—in his arms. Nothing had ever felt so right.
She tilted up her chin and echoed the words he’s whispered to her a few nights ago. “Tell me a secret.”
Dreama’s heart fluttered. She’d done it. She’d beaten her phobia. Her need to be in his arms outweighed her fear of his touch. No. Her only fear was never having the chance to experience it.
She hadn’t lied. Call it intuition or paranoia, but she knew tonight would be their last night together, and she planned on making it count. Not with sex, but with honesty.
His warm breath blew over her skin. “I never loved Maddie.”
The jealous woman inside of her was thrilled to hear it confirmed, but it also made her sad that Cash had been in a loveless marriage. “I know. Rebecca mentioned it to me.”
He paused. “She never let on that she knew.”
“Tell me about Maddie.” There had to be a reason he never talked about her.
He sighed and held her a little bit tighter. “I confused neediness with submissiveness. By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. She’d figured out my weakness and exploited it to her advantage. At first, she threatened to kill herself if I broke up with her. It got so bad, I just gave in to whatever she wanted. I should have told someone, but I was young and stupid and convinced I could do it on my own. Just when I’d decided I couldn’t take it anymore, she told me she was pregnant.”
Rebecca’s words about Maddie hanging on Cash and Cash’s concern about her suddenly made sense. “Why did you keep sleeping with her if you wanted to break up with her?”
