by Tara Rose
Ria stood up as Luke came into the back room.
“You done with the dishes?”
“Yes. Do you think Gerry will be okay?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
“Can I ask you a question, and can you promise not to laugh at it?”
He gave her a curious look then ruffled her hair. “Sure, kiddo. What is it?”
She hated the nickname and the gesture, but this time she didn’t chide him for either one. “Do you think I’m smart enough for college?”
Luke frowned. “What makes you think you’re not?”
She shrugged. “Maybe ‘smart’ isn’t the right word. Do you think I’m cut out for it?”
“What degree would you pursue?”
“I have no clue.”
“Well, if you figure that out, I say go for it. Why not? You have as much potential as anyone in this town. Don’t you know that?”
She stared at him, wondering if he realized that was the first compliment he’d given her in years. “Thanks.” She smiled and brushed past him. Time to get back to work.
Chapter Two
Trent Rohan waited in the ER with Paul Wakefield, the paramedic with whom he was working tonight, until they’d taken Gerry to surgery, and then the two went into the staff lounge to wait for the next call. Saturday nights were usually busy in Racy, but Trent suspected the cold weather had kept the usual fights and accidents at bay tonight. “I hope he’ll make it.”
“You remember him?” asked Paul.
Trent nodded. “Yeah, I do now. Looked like a big blade. Kitchen knife, maybe?”
“Maybe they should have dusted for prints in the back room of Luke’s Bar, then?”
Trent frowned. “You kidding? The Rodriguez family are good people. Wyatt and I went to school with Rafe, their oldest.”
Paul made a face that Trent was used to seeing now, but it still pissed him off. “He’s part of that kinky stuff you’re still into isn’t he?”
“He and Luke both are. So what?” Trent stared him down. Paul was a kick-ass paramedic, but as a person, he was a fucking tight-ass that needed to seriously get the pole out of his keister.
“So you know how I feel. You’re all degenerates.”
“You know, for a health care provider in a town full of kinksters, you’re not very tolerant.”
Paul turned his attention back to the news, and Trent dropped the subject. It was pointless to argue and he knew it. He’d only been back six weeks, but he remembered Paul from when he’d worked as a basic EMT here in Racy.
Now, he had his paramedic certification from Indianapolis, and he didn’t need to keep his lifestyle a secret in this hospital like he’d had to do at his former job in Indy. He was grateful for that, but he wished they’d pair him up with someone other than Paul. Trent had nothing beyond gender and certification in common with the man. Paul was a deacon at his church, was married to the same woman he’d dated in high school, and they had two perfect teens who never did so much as sneeze in public.
If Paul wasn’t so judgmental of everyone who didn’t live the way he did, none of that would even bother Trent. He believed in live and let live. Although he’d been a Dom since college, he’d had plenty of friends who weren’t in the lifestyle and didn’t agree with it. But Paul was the only one who liked to try and bait him, and then shove his beliefs in his face, and Trent despised people who did that.
He tilted his chair onto the back legs until it touched the wall behind him and then he closed his eyes. Trent let his thoughts turn toward Ria, the dark-haired beauty whom he remembered as Rafe’s gossipy sister. Rafe had five sisters, but Trent had always found Ria the most alluring of them all. She was a spitfire, and he loved women like that. When he’d lived in Racy before, she’d been a sales clerk at Busler’s Department Store downtown. Why was she now waiting tables and washing dishes at her brother’s bar?
She’d watched them working on Gerry, and at first Trent thought she was going to pass out, but then as he’d sneaked quick glances at her face, he realized she wasn’t squeamish about the blood and gore. She was concerned for Gerry, and his stomach had given a quick little lurch as understanding dawned on him. He’d already been impressed that she hadn’t simply gone back inside as soon as they’d arrived. The compassion he’d glimpsed in that alley was a side of Ria Rodriguez he’d never seen before, and it made him want to get to know her better.
Front what little he’d heard of her conversation with Sean and Harrison, she’d called 911 right away, and had remembered a lot of details about the man who’d stabbed Gerry. That showed she could keep her head in a crisis. She wasn’t in the lifestyle, but that had never stopped him before. He made a mental note to ask Wyatt about her. His twin worked with one of Ria’s friends, Bonnie Kowalski, and that meant Wyatt might know more about her.
Paul glanced over his shoulder, and his question pulled Trent out of his reverie. “You mind if I change the channel?”
Trent shrugged. “Watch whatever you want.”
Paul picked up the remote. “Yeah, not much on. Sure wish we had our own local channels here. But I guess it’s not a big enough town for that.”
“Nope. Sure isn’t.” Racy had just over ten thousand residents, and while Trent had enjoyed living in a larger city for the conveniences it afforded, it hadn’t been anywhere near the same as his home town. It was good to be back. He’d missed the way each resident had at least a passing knowledge of all the others, and the way people came together to help one another.
But while everything was familiar, too many things had changed in the three years he’d been gone. He’d heard about the tornado, but hadn’t been prepared for the damage on Main and Market Streets. Many of the businesses were gone for good, and others had set up temporary quarters while their owners waited for the reconstruction to finish. Luke had been one of the lucky ones who had found another spot in which to reopen.
His mind started to wander toward the reason he’d left town to begin with, but Trent pushed away thoughts of Deanna. He couldn’t go there. Not tonight. It was still too raw. He forced his images back to the downtown area, which had been hit the hardest by the EF3 tornado in May. The buildings were scheduled to be completed by April, and the town was planning a celebration and grand reopening on May 3, the one-year anniversary of the storm. That had been Zach Kincaid’s idea.
As much of a shock as the damage had been, the news that Racy’s former mayor, Bernie Crumb, was facing charges for fraud and murder had been the biggest surprise. Trent was glad the town had voted Zach in as the new mayor, although his money would have been on Maddox McCree. He’d gone to school with Maddox, and had heard that the job was offered to him as well, but he’d turned it down. Zach would do well as mayor. He’d been a councilman for years now, and he was well-respected in this town.
As Trent glanced first at the TV and then at the back of Paul’s head, he smiled as he wondered what he thought of a mayor who was in the lifestyle. That must bug the shit out of people like Paul. At least the crap that Maddox used to take for having his club had abated somewhat.
Maddox ran a BDSM club in his house, and Trent remembered how Bernie and his cronies had constantly tried to get it shut down. Even among the residents of Racy who weren’t in the lifestyle, most of them didn’t give a passing thought to the club. They went their way and ignored it. But it only took a few people to put a monkey wrench into the works.
Thoughts of Maddox’s club led Trent back to Ria, and he wondered whether she was even remotely interested in BDSM. Did she know he was a Dom? Luke would probably tell her if she asked. But why would she ask? Was she thinking about him right now, or had he only imagined the interested look in her eyes tonight?
It had been dark in the alley, but he didn’t usually mistake that look on a woman’s face. Their lips parted slightly, and their eyes got all soft. He could almost see their nipples hardening and their pussy lips turning smoky with blood engorgement.
Ria ha
d a sexy, curvy body that he’d love to see naked, tied to a St. Andrews cross or bent over a spanking bench. Her ass would be round, just the way he loved them. He was dying to know if she’d ever had fantasies involving BDSM play, but there was no one to ask. The best he could hope for was to glean some information from Wyatt in the morning.
Their radio buzzed, and both men jumped up. Paul picked it up first, and Trent took advantage of his coworker’s momentary distraction to reach into his pants and straighten his dick. When Paul glanced at him again, he was adjusted and ready to go. “What is it?”
“Car skidded off the bridge over the creek by Skeeter McCree’s farm.”
“Let’s go.” It was time to get back to work. But while Trent loved the adrenaline rush his job afforded, right now he’d rather be enjoying one of those rushes in Maddox’s club with Ria.
* * * *
Wyatt Rohan was used to phone calls on weekends. They’d recently added a third public defender, but he and Bonnie still had the bulk of the cases. They both took turns being on call during the hours the court wasn’t in session. It was a small town, and they’d agreed a long time ago that there was no reason anyone should have to wait until a Monday morning to know whether they had legal representation. It might not be the way things were done in larger cities, but in Racy, that’s how they handled things.
So when his cell rang at 6:00 am on Sunday morning, he didn’t bother looking at the caller ID. He simply answered the phone. “Rohan here.”
“Hey, it’s Sean.”
“Hi.” Wyatt put down his coffee cup and frowned. “What’s going on?”
“Gerry Homer was stabbed last night in the alley behind Luke’s Bar.”
“No shit. Is he all right?”
“No. He died about a half hour ago.”
“Oh man. That sucks. Any leads?”
“Yes. You know him. We all do. I’m on my way now with Harrison to pick him up, so I thought I’d give you a heads-up.”
“Who is it?”
“Ned Meyers.”
Wyatt groaned. “Fuck. No fucking way. Are you sure he did it? Murder would be a few steps up for him.”
“I don’t think he meant to kill Gerry. It was a stab wound to the gut, which, unfortunately for Ned, pierced Gerry’s liver and his hepatic vein. They got him into surgery and repaired all that, but then he went into a condition called DIC. Know what that is?”
Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. Disseminated intravascular coagulation. It’s a clotting disorder, right?”
“Close enough. It’s when your normal clotting mechanisms go haywire. That’s how Karen McCall explained it to me. She was in Luke’s when Gerry was stabbed and she followed the bus to Memorial last night and stayed until this morning. She said it can happen after surgery, especially in the GI system, and apparently Gerry had had clotting issues before.”
“I can’t believe he’s dead. This will hit the town hard.”
“I know. Everyone looked out for him.”
Wyatt took a sip of coffee. Even if it wasn’t premeditated, Ned could still be charged with involuntary manslaughter. He was looking at six years if convicted in this town. “Why do you like Ned for it?”
“Ria Rodriguez saw him stab Gerry. Well, hang on. Let me back up. She didn’t see who stabbed him. She saw a man stab him using his left arm, and she gave us a general description of what he was wearing. She also described hearing a voice say ‘I know you have money.’”
Ned was left-handed, if memory served Wyatt correctly. “How does she know it was Ned who spoke, and that he said the words to Gerry?” Ria was one of Bonnie’s best friends. Wyatt had had a secret crush on her for years, but dating anyone outside the lifestyle hadn’t worked out well for him, so he’d never done anything about his unrelenting fantasies.
“She heard him shout it from inside the bar just before she went outside and watched Gerry get stabbed.”
“That’s quite a stretch, even for you.” Sean was the best damn detective in Racy. If he believed Ned had done this, he was probably right.
“Hang on. I have more. We found a very large, very long ornamental knife in a Dumpster behind The Fit Bod.”
“For which you already have a match to the wounds?” The Fit Bod was close to Luke’s Bar, but why would Ned dump the knife where it could be so easily found?
Sean chuckled softly. “Not yet, smart-ass.”
“What else do you have? Why would Ned be stupid enough to toss the weapon where you could find it? He’s been in and out of your police station enough times to know not to do that.”
“We figure he panicked. Gerry was bleeding like a stuck pig when Harrison and I got there.”
“You got prints?”
“We will. And we know Ned had access to this particular knife.”
Wyatt smiled. “Why is that?” He and Trent had been friends with Sean their entire lives. There was no one on the police force that either man respected more, and the fact that Sean was so sure of himself only added to the game. He’d defend Ned or anyone else accused of this crime to the best of his ability, but he secretly loved it when Sean rubbed his nose in evidence like this. It kept his skills sharp, and when he was able to prove Sean wrong, it fed his ego.
“Because it’s the same knife that was among the ones Ned stole six months ago from Racy Antiques.”
Wyatt searched his memory. “You never proved that Ned took any of those knives.” Pearl Goodman, who owned the antique store, had filed a police report when an entire collection of ceremonial knives had been stolen from her shop one night. Someone had broken in and taken them before the cops arrived.
She had an alarm system, but whoever took them was fast. He or she had known exactly where to find them, which means it had been planned. Because Ned had had run-ins with theft charges before in Racy, they brought him in, but they weren’t able to pin this crime on him since the knives were never recovered.
“But we will now.”
“How?”
“We’ll find the others at Ned’s place.”
“Whoever took those knives has probably sold them by now.”
“Not in Indiana. They’re too unique, and we’ve been watching.”
“He or she went out of state then.” Wyatt drained his coffee cup. He might as well shower and get to the jail since it looked like Ned would be there within the hour.
“We have a warrant to search Ned’s apartment. We’re on the way now. You can meet us there if you want.”
“No. I’ll meet you at the station. Find the other knives, and then we’ll talk.”
“You got it.”
After Sean disconnected the call, Wyatt took a quick shower and mentally went over all the facts and assumptions Sean had presented. By the time he was dressed and on his way to the police station, his mind kept wandering back to Ria and what she had supposedly heard. While he would agree with Sean or anyone in Racy that Ned Meyers had a distinct accent, not found among anyone else in this town, he wanted to be more certain of the voice Ria had heard.
You just want an excuse to talk to her.
Wyatt smiled. Well, that much was true, too. But if she’d heard an accent, he wanted to be sure it was Ned’s combination of living in Germany until he was twelve, and a Swedish mother who was bilingual and still spoke to him her native language. And once he’d established that was what she’d heard, maybe he’d think about taking a chance on someone outside the lifestyle?
Of course, that would also mean he couldn’t defend Ned. Wyatt sighed as he started his car and waited for it to warm up. Why did his life always have to be so fucking complicated?
Chapter Three
Ria slept in late the mornings after she worked, especially when she worked the Friday or Saturday night before, because Luke stayed open until 2:00 a.m. on Saturday and Sunday mornings. When her cell phone rang, she knew as soon as she opened her eyes that it was early from the soft light in the room. Thinking it was one of her siblings or her parents, she snatched the cell phone of
f her nightstand and answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Hi, this is Wyatt Rohan. I’m looking for Ria Rodriguez.”
She almost dropped the phone. Why was he calling her? How did he have her number? Ria sat up, her heart pounding. “You’ve found her.”
“Oh, good. I got your number from Bonnie, who by the way is a very loyal friend. She almost wouldn’t give it to me.”
Really? She must remember to ask Bonnie why the hell she’d assume that Ria wouldn’t want a hot guy to have her phone number. “She’s a good friend.”
“I’m sorry to bother you this early, but I need your help.”
“With what?”
“I understand you witnessed Gerry Homer’s stabbing last night, and since it’s likely that either me or Bonnie will be defending the man who did it, I wanted to ask you some questions.”
The hair on the back of Ria’s neck prickled. Something about the mention of the man who had stabbed Gerry nagged at her consciousness, but she was still too foggy from being woken up early to figure out what it was.
“Can we have lunch?” And the tone of Wyatt’s voice bothered her, too. He was hesitant for some reason. What was going on?
“Okay. Sure.” She wasn’t going to pass that up, even if they were going to talk about such an unpleasant subject. Wyatt asked her to meet him at Nan’s Place in two hours. After he ended the call, Ria was surprised to see that it was almost ten in the morning. She’d only slept two hours less than usual. That wasn’t too terrible a sacrifice to make to have lunch with Wyatt Rohan.
Nan’s Place was usually crowded, but not until early afternoon on a Sunday. Ria ate there often even though the food nearly always gave her a stomachache the next day. The original Nan had died some time ago, and now her granddaughter, Emma Falcon, ran it. Ria liked Emma. She always had a smile for her customers and never seemed to be in a rush, even when there was a line out the door.
There were plenty of booths free, and Ria suspected that had as much to do with the fact that most of Racy still at church services, in addition to the temperature. It was barely ten degrees. She saw Wyatt, waved, and walked toward where he waited in a booth near the back. Several people watched her, but Ria reveled in that. If Bonnie or Leela had been here, she’d have been tempted to high-five them both.
