by Fiona Archer
And Zach still hadn’t let go of Jinx’s arm.
“Gentlemen, I understand your anger, but the girls really didn’t mean to cause harm. London was even saying earlier how much she knows she needs to trust you all to find the answers she’s seeking.”
God bless her mom.
Heath’s gaze had flicked from her to her mom and returned.
“Okay, look, you guys have the right to be frustrated with us. But we never intended to damage your investigation. And frankly, I don’t yet know everything that happened here tonight. And I can tell you I don’t have any drugs. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get Mom and Gran home, then Heath and I can argue further.”
Declan shoved his hands into his front pockets and walked to the elevator. “I’ll leave this in your capable hands, Detective.” The elevator doors opened, and seconds later, Declan disappeared from view.
“He’s like some smoke and mirrors guy.” Cleo said from where she stood next to Mercy. “One moment he appeared upstairs, and the next moment, we’re down here alone.”
“Not alone,” Adam reminded her, then turned back to Jinx. “You go to the apartment by yourself?
“No, with Mercy.”
He turned to the high school teacher. “Tell us about the guy at Henry’s apartment.”
“He came out of the elevator when we were talking to the building supervisor.” Mercy rubbed her arms. “But then he caught sight of us in the hallway and went back into the elevator, and that was the last we saw of him. Until that man Declan brought us down here.”
“You speak to him at Henry’s apartment?” Heath demanded of Jinx and Mercy.
“No.”
“No.”
“Tomorrow morning, first thing, you meet Seth and do an identikit of his face.” Adam scowled at both women. “You don’t show, I’ll find you.”
“We’ll be there.” Mercy’s voice was calm, but she looked shaken by running into the man so easily.
“Adam, you’ll see London’s family to their car?”
The oldest Justice brother nodded and moved to the women. “Is your car close, Mrs. Shaw?”
But Joanna was looking to her daughter. “Honey, you sure it’s okay for us to go?”
No, but she wasn’t going to use her mom and grandma as shields when arguing with Heath. “I’m fine. You go.” Since Heath refused to let go of her arms, she was locked in place couldn’t offer up a hug or kiss.
With a searching look at both Heath and London, her mom allowed Adam to take Grandma’s hand and lead her to the back passenger seat of his vehicle.
Heath pulled her with him to his SUV. He opened his passenger door, lifted her up into the vehicle and slammed it closed.
Then he was behind the wheel, and the car was moving. Not speeding. Not screeching the tires. He flexed his grip on the steering wheel. That iron-willed control.
“Seatbelt,” he said in a clipped, angry voice.
London guessed now wasn’t the right time, but she had to have something, some shred of understanding. “Promise me when we get home you’ll let me explain.”
“We will definitely be conducting a question and answer process, Red.” He slid his gaze from the windshield to her face. “Count on it.”
What mattered.
She hoped he gave her a chance to tell him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Heath parked the car in the garage and turned off the engine. For the next few seconds, he sat there, listening to their breathing, London playing with the strap on her purse, and the way she kept smoothing the shirt of her dress. She was nervous. With bloody good cause.
How many times on the drive home tonight had he talked himself down from turning the car around, finding the head of security in the club and punching the bastard’s fucking lights out? The idea of her and the other women surrounded by security, kept under guard by strangers, and all under a pretext of drugs?
Where was their evidence?
Something slipped into her purse? A little bag of white powder…or pills. And he’d have to prove it wasn’t hers.
London felt helpless?
Join the club, sweetheart.
The fact was he’d done a pathetic job of encouraging her to share those feelings in the days previous. That was on him.
All that changed tonight.
“Don’t move, Red.” He swung out of his truck, walked around, and opened her passenger side door, filling the space with his body. Her green eyes filled with worry. But she still held her hand out to him.
That was the kicker, the move that felled him like a knockout punch. What was it? Trust.
London trusted him.
“Let’s go inside.” He lifted her down, gripped her hand, and led her through to the kitchen.
When he’d first climbed into his truck, the idea of questioning her in the bedroom seemed perfect. But…no. He needed a neutral space for both of them. No distractions.
He pulled out the middle stool, turned it sideways and tapped the seat. “Come sit.” Grabbing a stool for himself, he sat, his feet resting on the foot rung. He waited until she’d settled herself then dragged her stool so her legs fit between his. Snug. Safe. And unable to escape.
“You asked me if I’d give you the opportunity to explain.”
He watched her breathe in, gather her thoughts.
“I did.” Her gaze dropped to his thighs bracketing her own and her hands clasped together in her lap.
“We’re going to do that via a series of questions.” He smiled to himself at the crease forming in her brow. “That way, I get the answers I need. If at the end, you wish to say more, go ahead.”
“Okay, but why can’t we sit on the couch?” She shifted on the stool, her feet only just reaching the foot rung. “Why here?”
“Because you feel vulnerable here. And that’s exactly how I want you.” He lifted a finger and traced the curve of her jaw, loving the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her chest rose sharper at his touch. “I’m going to strip you of anything you could use to bullshit your way out of my questions, Red.”
“I don’t—”
He pressed his finger against her lips and warned, “My turn.”
At her silence, he began with his first question.
“At the club, you stated you didn’t want to be a victim, and you wanted to get back some control over what had happened to you with Henry’s death.” He ran a finger over the top of one hand, feeling the veins and the clenching of her hand underneath his. “Talk to me about being a victim.”
She leaned back slightly. “What do you mean?”
“How does that feel? What is it that worries you the most?”
“It feels like crap. It feels like you can’t take your next breath because all the joy and happiness you can have is controlled by someone else.” She looked to the ceiling then dropped her gaze to his. “Being at the mercy of others can rob you of everything.”
“Sounds like you’ve been in that position before, Red.”
She looked to the side before meeting his gaze. “Yeah, a while ago.”
“Will you share?” He rested his hand on top of both of hers and gently squeezed.
“It was…”—a shake of her head—“I was young. Ten. There were two girls at school, and they hated me. For no reason I could think of.”
“What happened?”
“I got a new backpack for my birthday. They stole it from me. Ripped everything out, including homework for a writing competition.” She fidgeted under his touch. Memories conjured emotions, some of them not so good. “They dumped my backpack and homework in the mud. Totally destroyed everything. I couldn’t save it, and the paper broke apart when I tried to salvage some to show my teacher.”
“She didn’t believe you.”
“I got detention and missed out on a camp for writers that summer.”
Heath wanted to lecture the ignorant teacher who believed a kid would ruin their birthday gift and her chance to attend a special school camp for s
pite.
And those kids? Jesus, he knew they could be shits, including him at thirteen.
“So you’re not wanting to be a victim from events surrounding Henry’s death has as much to do with how you feel about the police questioning you as it does about your teacher not believing you.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Both times they thought I was lying. At least with the cops, I could prove my innocence.”
“True.” He moved his hand from hers to her knee and pressed. Steady. Firm. “What was it that made you feel overall you weren’t in control last week? Something made you get to the point you asked the girls for help.”
“You mean after I offered to help in your investigation and you shut me down?” She sat straighter, ready to argue her point.
“You’re right. I was an arse.” He chuckled at her derisive smile. “So what was the tipping point?”
“Angelique Dupree revealing my plans to switch genres. I put out a statement and felt great for ten minutes, but…” She shifted in her seat again. “I was still reacting to someone else’s actions. And what she revealed was something I’d stressed over for weeks. I became that ten year old kid again, worse this time because my secret had been put right out there. My fear of readers not liking my plans and thinking I was a liar just as my teacher did all those years ago, made me keep the news secret. And that made me panic even more.”
“I appreciate your honesty.” He hardened his voice. “Which is why I have to know why you lied to me the other day.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t.”
He reached out and gently uncrossed her arms, putting them in her lap. “No defensive measures, Red. I did warn you. And as to your answer, yes, you did.”
“I chose my words carefully.” She went to cross her arms again. He sent her a level stare and she pressed her lips together.
“London—”
“I promised not to interfere with your investigation, not that I’d never have one of my own.”
“Jesus, that’s a fine line.”
“Nevertheless.” She refused to back down. “What counts is I haven’t crossed the line.”
He felt control of his temper fraying at the edges. How the fuck had those tables turned? “Did your group discuss the fact you should have called me when Jinx and Mercy had the near miss with the guy at Henry’s apartment?”
“At the time, we weren’t sure he was guilty of anything. The girls couldn’t say for certain. He could have made a mistake about getting off on the wrong floor.” She attempted to move back on the stool, but he clamped her legs in place with his thighs. Her gaze flashed in annoyance.
Tough.
“You can’t take those kinds of risks, London. For fuck’s sake, someone recognized you at the club and, for whatever reason, wanted you held.”
London threw her arms out in the air. “We went to a club to dance, Heath. Not to act out the latest script from Mission Impossible. Jinx wanted to try to access the snobby level four. I understand. She goes there; people remember seeing her, and she gets referrals for work. That Cashmere lady was there and got us in.”
“Was she with Bishop?” He should be pissed that Bishop was the one who’d called Adam, but in truth, he was grateful they’d gotten the warning. To act any other way would be churlish.
“I have no idea.”
“And the fact the same man from Henry’s apartment was also in the club’s parking garage? That’s one big fucking coincidence. What if you’d met him there alone?”
“And what if I’d had Derek with me? We can keep trading ‘what ifs’ all night. Let me ask you this: How much risk is too much? Is there a chart with a magic percentage? And as for attending the club, we weren’t even planning on staying there long.”
“Jesus, London, it only takes a second and everything you know is fucked.”
She frowned. “What are you—”
“Three fucking seconds and they were dead. All my family was dead.”
Heath saw the shock-widened eyes, the partially open mouth. But he couldn’t think of how to walk back what he’d said.
“Heath.” She rested a hand on his arm.
His skin burned where she touched him, like a brand of his shame.
He rose from the stool, nearly toppling it over in his haste to get away. “Fucking up doesn’t take hours, London, or days. It took three seconds.” ‘Shut up the pair of you.’ “That was the time my father spent turned around, telling me to behave, instead of looking at the road.”
She jumped off the stool and came to stand beside him. “No, Heath, don’t think that.” She tried reaching up to his face, but he caught her hands in his.
“I was there, London. I saw the frustrated look on his face. Dad was pissed at Mum for not controlling us. She was over me being a little shit.”
London stared at him a moment and then dropped her arms from him and took a step back. “Fair enough.”
“What?”
“You think you’re the real killer of your family, then so be it, but I think you’re full of shit.”
A sudden coldness hit at the core of his chest. “What the hell?”
“You were thirteen, Heath. You weren’t the adult in your family unit. You just said it yourself. Your mom and dad were both annoyed with each other, likely for more than simply dealing with kids. Tell me, were you so much of a shit you never listened to her?”
“No, not at all.” In fact, he’d tried helping. Doing his chores as soon as he got home from school. But Mum had been tired lately. Grumpy, too. “Why don’t you take care of them for once. I’ve just come home from a double shift.” Dad had taken on more around the house and looking after him and his sister.
“The truth is, you’re never going to know exactly what was happening for everyone in your family’s car because you were in the backseat. And more than that, you were a kid.”
He didn’t know what to believe. Seventeen years of blaming himself didn’t go away with a few smart insights from the woman you lov—.
Heath reached out, took a curl in his fingers and let the silky strands slide over his calluses and healed nicks. She was utterly gorgeous, funny, and given what she’d shared with him this evening, brave too. It took a lot of courage to stare down a man who’d held her locked close against him and part-forced, part-guided her to confront some long held wounds.
This is the kind of woman he wanted by his side. Strong, intelligent, kind, funny—all qualities Aurora would have loved in London.
His heart broke a little more at the total fucking unfairness that was Aurora’s passing. God, he missed her. With her gentle touch and sweet understanding, she’d recognized that all her sons had different needs for her to fill. Aurora had never tried to replace his first mum. And he’d loved her even more for showing Vicky Hudson such respect. For him, she’d been a confider of dreams and fears, a person who’d cheer him on when he wondered if he had anything left to give a challenge, and when he’d get low and think about what he’d lost, she’d remind him of the family he had now, and how much he could honor the memory of those he’d lost by never closing off to love the one heart of theirs that still beat with life.
Now he was opening up his heart to another.
He watched her as she pushed in the stools at the counter and collected her purse. He caught her small yawn. No surprise. After all, it had been one hell of a night.
“Let’s go to bed, London.” He held out his hand to her and they walked to the master suite.
He’d undressed and was beside the bed, pulling back the bedding, when London called out.
“Heath, can you reach the nozzle thingy in the shower for me. It’s coming loose.”
Help a damsel in distress and get a clear view of her gorgeous arse and breasts? Definite win-win.
Heath smiled to himself as he walked toward the large two-person shower. A towel hung over the outside of the thick glass door, obscuring his view.
He whipped away the towel as
he opened the door.
A blast of warm water hit him in the face and then upper chest.
Giggles floated through the steamy air as she continued to drench him.
“Right, you asked for it, Red.”
He lunged, laughing at her squeal, and ripped the nozzle from her hand. In the shape of a thick, foot long wand, the device was self-adjusting and packed a punch. Heath immediately got some ideas he wanted to explore.
He slung an arm around her waist and gathered her against him, her back to his front. Lifting her clean off her feet, her legs pinwheeled in the air.
“It’s so bloody unfair when the big, mean bastard who has you in his arms won’t let you go, huh?
“Do your worst, Dundee drongo.” She threw out her new Aussie word of the day, courtesy of Harper. Heath had noticed they all seemed to be insults, never compliments. He’d have to speak to Seth.
“You calling me an idiot, woman?” He used the nozzle to drench her from head to toe, guessing she wanted her hair wet or she’d have put it up in a bun or used her shower cap.
He checked the water’s temperature for use on more fun areas of the body.
“Now have you seen this little twist mechanism at the oaafff…” He grunted as she sent an elbow into his abs. “Now you’ve done it, Red.” He grinned and set the spray to soft pulse as he wedged her into the corner with his body and placed the nozzle’s pulsing spray over her clit.
“Oooooooh” she moaned, and half a minute later as she still squirmed to get away, he noted the ferocity of her struggles had dwindled too little more than a few slaps on his arms.
“You like that?” He didn’t want her satisfied; he wanted her writhing, begging.
“Mmmm.” She swayed her hips back and forth, her hand curling around his bicep and squeezing.
Heath removed his arm from around her waist and London’s hands slid down his arm. “Turn and face the wall, legs apart.” Once she was in place, he tapped her right leg. “Further.” She wiggled her foot out until both were shoulder width apart. He clicked the shower setting to steady—the perfect tease setting. “One hand on the wall head height. The other holds this on your clit.” Once she was set, he left the stall to nab some supplies from his bedroom. Ripping open the condom packet, he sheathed himself.
