My heart raced. Shit. The last time Jacob and I had visited the cafe was at least three weeks ago. Alarms blared in my head. This weekend needed to be over. I folded the jeans and placed them on the bed.
The picture? Oh, I would keep that for a while.
* * * *
The longer I waited for him to come back, the higher the red bar on my anger meter rose. His muffled voice rose and fell outside, his footsteps tracked up and down the hallway. At one point, I peeked through the peephole to find him standing in front of Jacob’s door, phone to his ear, shoulders taut, his free hand clenched at his side. Judging by his stance, the phone convo was not a happy one.
Why would he take a picture of me and Jacob? Why the concern with my safety? Who was this whirlwind who’d stormed into my life and decimated the wall I’d lived behind?
Crap.
I’d let this near stranger into my home. Had let him violate me in torturous, pleasurable ways. Had trusted him completely. What a naive dumbass. My father must be doing flip-flops in his grave.
No time like the present to right a wrong. I stomped to the extra bedroom, grabbed his duffel and jeans, and headed for the front door.
I took one last whiff of his dreamy scent, then tossed his shit into the hall.
“I’ve got things to take care of,” I shouted. “Thanks for a lovely weekend.” I slammed the door, flipped both bolts and the chain lock.
Almost immediately, he pounded. I ignored it. Soon, my phone rang. I ignored it as well.
One more knock. Softer this time. I swallowed down the clumps of sand in my throat, then marched away from the temptation that lingered only inches away to finish making the guest bed.
I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of cleaning I could get done when pissed. I vacuumed, dusted, rearranged a closet, cleaned both bathrooms, washed windows. Not the front windows. I didn’t want to look toward the beach, didn’t want to see or be seen. By dinnertime, my arms ached and exhaustion set in, but my house looked like I’d won the Merry Maids lottery.
Franklin hadn’t attempted to contact me. Thank goodness. I wouldn’t have known what to say to him anyway. Monday morning would pose a challenge. I wasn’t one to call in sick for no good reason, but Lordy was I tempted. I contemplated it for a moment, then shrugged the thought away. I couldn’t let my indiscretion with a coworker alter my work ethic any more than it already had.
I wasn’t hungry, but I grabbed my pint of Rocky Road, plopped my tired butt on the couch, and channel surfed my way to zombie land.
Sometime later, I woke with a pint of melted ice cream in my lap and a kink in my neck. I heard voices outside my door and tiptoed over to spy. Before I had a chance to peek, a sharp knock made me squeal and nearly empty my bladder where I stood.
Another knock. “Miss Wood. It’s Detective Waters.”
Knees weak, I drew a deep breath and unlatched my three new locks.
“Hi. What’s going on?”
Over his shoulder, several uniformed men huddled in a tight circle. Jacob’s door was ajar and the police tape drifted across the floor like a drunk snake.
“May I have a word?” His large smile put me at ease until he snickered.
“Of course, come in.” I moved aside and gestured for him to enter.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at my chin. His gaze darted to the drippy container on my coffee table, then back to me. “Rocky Road. It was my wife’s favorite.” A deep dimple formed on the left side of his face. He returned the hanky to the breast pocket of his shirt.
My cheeks burned hotter than a freshly toasted marshmallow.
Wise brown eyes scrutinized me. “Are you alone, Miss Wood?”
“Um, yes.” Gulp.
“I’m afraid we have a situation next door.” As he spoke, he studied the living room. Searched. Took inventory.
“Why? What happened? Is it Jacob?” For the third time that day, my hair stood on end. For the first time in three years, I contemplated moving.
“Miss Wood. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. If you don’t mind, could I ask you a few more questions?”
“Of course.”
Not at liberty to say, huh? Too bad. I was done with secrets for the day. I pushed passed the six-foot-something, burly policeman and bolted across the hallway towards Jacob’s apartment. Another officer tried to swing me in the opposite direction. Two blinks too late. He tried to block my view, but I caught a glimpse of what had everyone’s panties in a bunch.
A man, wearing a dark gray hoodie and dark sweats, hung, suspended by ropes, in Jacob’s foyer, just beyond his door. Arms and legs sprawled, head fallen forward. Like a giant X. Blood pooled thick and shiny below him. So much blood.
My knees and ankles gave out. The floor came at me like a speeding bullet. I was suspended in the air by a solid arm, then set upright. I looked up into the warm eyes of Detective Waters.
“Shit. Miss Wood. I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to see that.” He scooted me back into my apartment. “Stiles. Shut that fucking door,” he shouted.
My own door slammed behind me.
“I—I saw him.” Thoughts spun in a nauseating cycle. “He. Jogging. I saw.”
The detective braced me with a steady arm. A musky pine scent filled my senses. Warm. Soothing. “My deepest apologies. Those jackasses are being demoted first thing in the morning.”
“No. You don’t understand…” I shook my head and backed away. “I saw that man outside. This morning.” Head spinning, my vision narrowed.
Detective Waters guided me to the couch and forced me into the cushions. He strode to the kitchen, searched my cupboards for a glass, and brought me some tap water. “Tell me what happened.”
I took a small sip of the warm, chlorine-flavored aqua, then replayed the morning’s events for him, minus the sexy stranger who’d outfitted my apartment in super spyware. I should’ve told him about Franklin.
I didn’t.
I was pissed. I wanted an explanation from mysterious Mr. Reed before the police got a crack at him.
“Have you been home all day?” The beefy cop sat next to me.
“Yes.” His weight sunk the cushion and I fell against his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind. His breath smelled of mint and coffee. I scooted over and turned toward him.
“Did you hear or see anything?” He flipped through the pages of his notebook.
“No. Nothing. I did have my music louder than it should’ve been. I was cleaning for most of the day.” How I didn’t hear or see anything so brutal happening right next door was beyond my comprehension.
“Miss Wood. I’m going to show you a picture. It’s graphic. I’m sorry, but I need to know if you recognize him.”
My gut clenched. More gore? No, thank you. Visions of Jacob’s mangled body flashed before my eyes. Bile rose in my throat. I choked it down with more warm water.
Detective Waters handed over his cell. A close-up of the dead man’s face filled the screen. Tattoos covered his shaved head. They also stretched up his neck and rose just above a square jawline. His cheeks were bloody. One eye was swollen shut. His lip, split wide open, revealed two bloody teeth.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know this man.” Not that I would’ve recognized his bruised and bloodied mug. The tattoos? I would’ve remembered meeting someone wearing that ink.
“Miss Wood. Do you have somewhere you can stay tonight?” I bounced when he rose to stand.
“I don’t have anywhere to go.” Mom was in Florida. No siblings.
“No family, friends?”
I shook my head. “No. Not really.” Sure, I had a few close friends, but none I would burden with my troubles.
“Do I need to go?”
“You’re not required to leave. Wouldn’t you feel safer staying with someone? What about your boyfriend, the man who was here yesterday?”
I almost laughed. Bit hard on my lip instead. “Oh, he’s n
ot my boyfriend.”
The handsome detective’s eyes grew wide. “Could’ve fooled me. I noticed the way he looked at you.” He winked as if he’d given me top-secret, valuable information. Wow. The gruff detective was a romantic at heart. How sweet.
“Not to worry. We’ll be working through the night, I suspect. There will be officers stationed outside as well. Please don’t be offended when they insist on escorting you in and out as you go.”
“Thank you.” I attempted a smile. “Where did they take Jacob? I called the three major hospitals earlier and nobody had record of him being admitted.”
The detective’s face hardened. “As soon as I hear how he’s doing, I’ll let you know.” He paused as if debating whether or not to say more, then huffed. “You have my number. Call me any time. Day or night.” He winked, then closed the door behind him.
Chapter 7
The black leather bodysuit squeaked as I prowled the unlit alley. I should’ve broken it in before carrying out my mission. Thank goodness the city noise hid the swoosh, swoosh of my thighs rubbing together. The mile-high spike heels made it difficult to navigate the cobblestone street, but damn they looked hot, and they were the main attraction for the evening’s events.
I pulled the black mask into place, covering my face from nose to forehead. I didn’t have a mirror to check myself, but who wouldn’t look sexy and mysterious in a get-up like this?
I flattened myself against the wall and waited for my prey. Footsteps grew louder, bounced off the old brick buildings. One set. Good, he was alone. Made my job so much easier.
My heart raced with nervous excitement as he drew closer. I took one last deep breath, squatted, and performed a swinging, side-sweep kick as he passed. Caught him an inch above his ankles. He fell face-first at my side with a grunt.
The heel of my boot found a nice little resting spot at the base of his neck.
“Good evening, Mr. Cruse.” I’d lowered my voice to make it sound dangerous and sultry.
He tried to rise. I held him in place with my stiletto spike.
“What are you doing?” He struggled to speak and fought to keep his open mouth away from the dirty ground.
“Tell me, Mr. Cruse. Are you even the slightest bit sorry for the terrible things you’ve done?”
Wallace squirmed underneath the weight of my foot. I pressed harder. He grunted and blew a puff of air.
“Do you suffer any remorse for the lives you’ve ruined on your journey to the top?”
Shrill laughter rose from the ground. “Never.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” His flesh strained under the pressure of my heel. I angled my foot. Pushed harder. His skin popped, breaking under the strain.
“Is that Italian leather?” he asked with a whimper.
“Oh yes, Mr. Cruse. I knew you’d appreciate the outfit. Paid an arm and a leg for these boots. They’re worth every penny though. Wanna know why?”
Wallace blinked and nodded.
With a slight twist, the spring-loaded blade in the heel of my thigh-highs pierced his neck and made a soft ding when it dug into the stone beneath him.
“Who are you?” Blood spurted between his lips, dribbled down his chin.
“I’m payback and I’m a bitch.”
Morning hung over me like a layer of oily fog, heavy and suffocating.
I struggled to rise and haul myself to the shower. Barely mustered the energy to wash my hair. Getting dressed posed a challenge. Each article of clothing I tried on rubbed my skin like a scouring pad. The AM hours were usually my favorite time of day. That was no longer the case.
Franklin Reed and his damn panty-melting smile, his unexpected, yet timely injection into my life, had the gears in my brain grinding off kilter. Made it difficult to accomplish the smallest of tasks. I gave up hope of kick-starting my day with coffee when I’d brewed a whole pot of nothing but hot water.
I wasn’t nervous about facing him at the office. Maybe I was too angry. Confused. In shock? Couldn’t be certain. I was damn sure, though, I didn’t want to sit in my house the entire day and sulk or worry over the horrors of the past forty-eight hours. Work was a much needed distraction. I could ignore Franklin if need be. Like I could ignore a toothpick jammed under my fingernail.
A young police officer, obviously new gauging by the spring in his step and the cock in his voice, escorted me to my car. By some miracle, I managed to make it to the office ten minutes early. I’d even taken a detour to pick up a venti caramel macchiato. Breakfast of champions.
I fought the urge to buy a morning drink for my new, now ex, sex buddy. A thank-you for rocking my world, for giving me crippling orgasms. On a normal day, I would’ve. Bastard wasn’t getting any nicey-nice from me. Not until he explained why there was a picture of me in his pants, and why every conversation via cell was treated as top secret.
I greeted Nan with a fake smile as I passed. The gesture wasn’t returned, which was out of character for her. In her defense, she was on the phone, and held a cup of tea to her lips. Seemed to be chin-deep in an intense exchange by the glower she wore.
When I rounded the corner to my office, I wobbled in my platform pumps. The space reeked of male heat. Warm, spicy. Oh, so sexy.
Damn him.
A white to-go cup of something steamy sat on my desk, right next to a single red rose.
Just my luck, he’d beaten me to work.
Thank goodness Wallace was out of town. No way could I juggle his narcissistic ways as well as Franklin’s overwhelming presence. Not after the weekend I’d managed to escape.
I swallowed the last drip of sugary heaven from my cup and moved aside the mystery drink. I pondered, but didn’t touch the rose. Wasn’t ready to process that yet. Bold move on his part. Office policy prohibited dating co-workers. How would I explain this if anyone asked? Why would he risk our jobs? We weren’t even dating. Just fornicating. I walked to the window to open the shades, lingering to enjoy the view.
“Are you trying to make me jealous?” Heated breath tickled the back of my head. The funk of anger and male testosterone wafted off him.
Startled, I swung around and knocked a file folder from Franklin’s hand. He didn’t look down. Didn’t bend to pick it up. His chest rose and fell. Piercing blue eyes narrowed.
My ticker danced a jig behind my ribcage. Even angry, he took my breath away. I skirted him and shuffled to my desk, biding time. He followed, hot on my heels.
“I wouldn’t have touched you if I’d known there was somebody else. I don’t play games, Tate.” He leaned past me and the silk of his shirt brushed my cheek. He grabbed the rose then twirled it in front of my nose. The venom I’d been eager to unleash on him melted when disappointment, or maybe sadness, flashed in his eyes.
Wait. What? Somebody else? I snatched the flower from him. A thorn pricked my thumb. “Ouch.” I cussed under my breath, tossed the rose on my keyboard, and snagged a tissue to dab the blood. “That’s not from you?” I turned and gripped the edge of my desk for support. This was not the discussion I’d anticipated.
With a quick glance at the door, Franklin brought our bodies flush, suffocated me in his heat and lowered his lips to tickle my cheek. “I don’t do roses. Too cliché.” He straightened and took a step back. “If I did, I wouldn’t be careless enough to give you one here and risk your job. Why would you think that was from me?” He looked honestly perplexed.
Which only pissed me off.
“Hmm, let’s see. For starters, to apologize, maybe?” I couldn’t loosen my death grip.
His gaze raked my body. Up, then down, then up again. “What exactly would I be apologizing for? You kicked me out, remember?”
Was he serious?
“What for? What for? Are you dense? For fooling me into trusting you. Getting me naked. Keeping secrets.” I turned to dig the evidence from my purse and shoved the photo into the palm of his hand. “For spying on me. God, how could I be so ca
reless? How long exactly has this been going on, Mr. Reed? Don’t lie to me. I can’t take any more bullshit.”
When I should’ve run for the door, I slumped into my chair, crossed my arms and legs simultaneously, and waited. I needed to hear his explanation.
Franklin backed away, propped his shoulder against the wall and studied the pictures. “Is this why you threw me out?”
“Yes.” I held my head high. “And the secret phone calls.”
His gaze hardened. So did the knot in my gut. I wasn’t about to let him intimidate me. “Explain the photo please.”
“This isn’t mine. I found it.”
“Where?”
“Next to your car, in the parking garage.” He shoved it into his pocket. “You’re right about one thing. Someone is spying on you. It sure as hell isn’t me. You can be damned sure I’ll find out who it is.”
The angry heat that fueled my morning left my body in one swift gust, only to be replaced with ice cold panic.
With a quick glance to the hallway, he came closer and lowered his voice. He paused and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Maybe not you. Maybe your neighbor. It makes more sense, considering the brutality of his attack.”
It dawned on me that he hadn’t heard the latest breaking news. “Franklin, they found hoodie man in Jacob’s apartment yesterday. Someone strung him up in the entryway. It was awful…” I cringed and shook my head as if the motion would clear the images from my brain. “The blood—”
“You saw him?” He cut me off, scolding through gritted teeth. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me?” A crimson glow coated his face. I’m pretty sure I witnessed a new wrinkle carving itself into his forehead.
“I didn’t call you because I’m not your problem. This isn’t your problem. We fucked, Franklin. Nothing more. It doesn’t give us any claim over one another.”
“For Christ’s sake, lower you voice.” With another glance over his shoulder, he leaned toward me, pulled my chair closer to him then pressed his lips to my ear.
How to Kill Your Boss Page 6
