Head Start (Cedar Tree #7)

by Freya Barker

  “No problem. And I’ll run her over there tomorrow morning before the breakfast rush.”

  “Thanks Arlene, I owe you one.”

  “No worries, I’ve got your back. Just look after my girl,” she says before hanging up.

  It’s only seven thirty, but it feels like a full forty-eight hours have passed since the phone woke me up this morning. Still, there’s no way in hell I’m going to bed now. Not when there’s a crazy bastard out there picking off women. With a cold beer from the fridge, I sit down at the table and boot up my computer.

  I’ve just finished spreading out the notes I made on the dining room table, any possible parallels between the files highlighted. All six women from La Plata county except for one, were single, between the ages of twenty-five and forty, working in a medically related field and all, at some point in time in the last year, had had a profile up on one of three dating websites. I don’t have access to the files from the possibly related cases from other counties that had been flagged, but I assume Agent Jasper Greene will be able to get a hand on those, if he doesn’t already have them. For each of the six women, I made a list of profile names for people they were approached by or had contact with through the dating sites, and I’ve been looking for the same or a similar name on each of them. I could do a background on every profile they’ve connected with but that would take me forever. If I could narrow it down to one profile, it would speed things up. Nothing stands out at first glance until I spot a few that seem oddly familiar. I’m about to pop them into Google to see if there’s any significance when there’s a knock. With half an ear to the upstairs listing for any movement, I quickly open the door.

  “Hey,” I greet Gus, joining him on the porch. I don’t want to chance waking up Kendra, so leave the front door open only a crack. “Something happen?”

  “Got a call from Gomez,” Gus says as he leans up against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. “They picked up Cayman half an hour ago in Gallup, pulling into his driveway. He’ll be driving out there sometime tomorrow with plans to take on Cayman’s questioning himself.”

  “That’s great news. Fucking fantastic news,” I tell him. It is great news, but it doesn’t explain why Gus came to tell me in person when a phone call would’ve done the trick. “But why do I get the feeling that’s not why you’re here?” The slight tick of his jaw tells me my guess is on the money.

  “Kendra,” he says, squinting at me. “What are you up to with her?”

  Instantly my defensive hackles go up. “Not sure if that’s any of your business, Boss.” The last I say with a bit of an edge, enough for Gus to raise one eyebrow into his hairline.

  “I also consider you a friend,” he says, calmly deflating my indignant balloon. “Kendra as well. Which is why I’m asking.” He slowly uncrosses his arms and reaches back to grab the top of the railing, effectively using his body language to show a little less confrontation. “Maybe the better question would be what are you up to with Kara?”

  Now I’m confused. Kara? We’re good friends, he knows that. Hell, everyone knows that. But then I think of the odd look I was catching from Kendra across the table and there was that remark she made outside of the diner. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, although she did sound a bit off. In fact, she’d been off most of the evening.

  “I don’t understand. I haven’t seen Kara in over a year. We’ve been friends for years, Gus. What the hell? Everyone knows that. I know there was a period where some people thought there might have been more, but friends is all we’ve ever been.” Of course I don’t tell him that Kara has even less interest in me than I might have in her, but that’s not for me to share.

  “Sure most of us know that, but not necessarily everyone, bud. Would Kendra have reason to know that? She’d never met Kara before tonight. Look,” he urges when I make a move to object, “I’m not blind. I know you’ve had a thing for Kendra since she first came to town, but I don’t know where you’re at with her. Or where she’s at, for that matter. All I know is that seeing you and Kara together did something to her. Don’t know what, but I know she was shaking beside me almost the entire meal.”

  Son of a mother-fucking-bitch.

  I drop my head back against the house and blow out a lungful of air through my tightened lips. Dammit. It never occurred to me how it may have come across. I never even fucking stopped to introduce them. Frankly, I didn’t even know they’d never met. To me, Kara is synonymous with Cedar Tree, and so is Kendra. The one difference is that I’m probably the only one in Cedar Tree who knows everything about Kara. Which is part of the reason we’re so easy with each other. She’s like my sister. But to Kendra ... Jesus. I’m an ass.

  “I see I made my point,” Gus says with a grin. “Better clear that up ASAP, boyo.”

  Kendra

  I feel like I’ve slept a year.

  My head is heavy, but the migraine is gone, thank God. Carefully cracking open an eye against the sunlight streaming in, I take a peek at my alarm clock. Six forty-five. Shit. Already fifteen minutes behind. It only took me ten minutes to get to the hospital for my shift from the apartment. Now, I’d need at least another fifteen minutes. My internal clock apparently hadn’t received that message and I’d been too out of it last night to set my alarm.

  Last night...shit. The whole day yesterday had been one stressful thing on top of another. I thought at the time, my mother’s arrival would be the cherry on the cake but it managed to get worse. No wonder I ended up with the migraine to end all migraines. Did I puke? Can’t remember. I do remember Neil following me outside and taking me home, but very little after that. Before my mind has a chance to drag me places I don’t want to go, I swing my legs out of bed and rub my hands over my face. Thinking can come later. Time to hustle.

  It’s not until I see myself in the bathroom mirror that I notice I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes. At least the top half of them. My legs are bare. Neil must’ve undressed me. A hint of panic is almost instantly quelled when I realize he stopped there, and I blow out a deep breath in relief. With quick movements and with my back to the mirror, as always, I whip off the rest of my clothes. Once under the hot shower, I feel the lingering tension drain from my body. After quickly washing my hair, I squirt some shower gel in my hand and soap up my body, shaving the stubbly bits as I encounter them. My fingers slide over the ugly ridges on my skin. Scars I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.

  My migraines started when I was maybe fourteen. Just about the time I started ballooning out of my training bras. By fifteen, I had a chest that seemed to be everyone’s envy. Or focus. I hated it. It wasn’t until I was twenty-six that I started thinking those two might be connected—my boob size and the migraines. But it wasn’t until about six years ago that I worked up the courage to do something about it. At first it had been worth it as it seemed my migraines were gone.

  They weren’t, so now I had scars and migraines to contend with. Big ugly scars from complications after the surgery. Scars I couldn’t even bear to look at, let alone expect someone else to.

  Wiping briskly with a towel, I finish drying myself off, and will the negative thoughts from my head. I still have my back to the mirror, though.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed—my hair blown out and up in a ponytail—and am coming down the stairs. It’s not until I’m halfway down that I realize I’m smelling coffee. Neil never left.

  “Hey,” I say in greeting as I walk into the kitchen and see him at the counter, doing something with a bowl of eggs. Relaxed in a T-shirt and jeans, he looks unfairly gorgeous as usual.

  He turns around and throws me a smile. “Morning. How’s the head?”

  “Better,” I mumble as I edge up to the counter to see what he’s doing. A cutting board with diced peppers and onion is sitting beside the stove, and in a pan he has some chopped up bacon sizzling. “What are you making?”

  “Omelet. Thought I’d do a mushroom omelet, but you don’t have mushrooms.”
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  I wrinkle my nose at the thought. Mom tried to feed me mushrooms every so often when I was younger but I never could stand them. I’m a bit better now and can stomach them if they are chopped up small enough and hidden in a bunch of other ingredients. A mushroom omelet sounds disgusting, though.

  Neil chuckles when he sees my expression. “I’m guessing mushrooms ... not a favorite?” I simply shake my head in response.

  “What are you still doing here?” I ask as I watch him deftly sauté the vegetables with the bacon.

  “Had planned on staying anyway, Pup. Sure wasn’t gonna leave with you not feeling well.” He pours the eggs right on top of the contents of the pan and shoves it in the oven.

  There it is again— Pup. Irritating me and making me feel warm inside at the same time. But before I can voice an objection, he has swung around. Tagging me behind the neck, he pulls me close and takes my mouth in a firm kiss. “Morning,” he mumbles against my lips.

  “You already said that,” I point out, my brains about as scrambled as those eggs.

  “I needed to do it right. Especially since I fucked up.”

  I push back on his chest and take him in. “How’s that? What did you do?”

  Grabbing my hand, he pulls me into the living room.

  “Hey, your eggs.”

  “Twenty minutes in the oven. We need to talk,” he says, pulling me down on the couch with him.

  It’s never good, when someone tells you they need to talk. Those words lead to disappointment and pain. Which is why I scoot to the other side of the couch and pull my legs up to create some distance.

  “I fucked up yesterday and I didn’t realize it. Kara and I—“

  I immediately hold up my hand to stop him. I don’t want to do this right now. I don’t want to hear it. I’ve had a fudged-up weekend and I’m done. “Please, no need. I get it, we’re good. You two obviously go way back and you seem perfect together. I wasn’t really—“

  “Shut up,” he growls. Growls. At me.

  I’m already on the move, prepared to pick up breakfast on the way and forfeit that delicious looking omelet in the oven, when I’m stopped in my tracks, his hand on my wrist. With one tug, he has me sitting on his lap. “Neil, I—”

  “Quiet. You’re gonna have to let me explain.” His words are clipped.

  “Really, it’s not necessary.” I slide off his lap and laugh. Even to my own ears it sounds fake. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Christ, you are exasperating, would you be quiet and let me talk?” The eye-roll to the ceiling was a bit over the top if you ask me. But I press my lips together, figuring that it’ll be over much faster if I let him have his say.

  “As I was saying, Kara and I met years ago when Gus first met Emma. We’ve always been friends, good friends, even though we don’t see each other that much. Seeing her last night was a surprise. It didn’t even occur to me that you two had never met.” He slips his arm around me and pulls me right back on his lap again. Ignoring my struggles, he wraps both arms tight around me and stuffs his face in my neck. “Should’ve introduced you. I screwed up.”

  I sit motionless, not sure what to say.

  “Kendra,” his low voice urges. “There is nothing between Kara and I. Nothing but friendship. There never was anything more.”

  “But why? I don’t understand. You seem perfect together.” I’ve finally found my voice and I hate that insecurity sounds through. Since I’ve known Neil, I’ve fought tooth and nail against any attraction I may have felt for him. Have been able to convince myself this was not something that was in the cards for me. So why, after all this time, can I suddenly not shut myself down? The small tastes of him I’ve had over the past days have weakened the resolve I’ve held on to for so long. Defenses are down and already he has the power to hurt me. Dagnabit.

  “You’re wrong, babe.” He shifts me on his lap so I’m sideways and lifts a hand to turn my head so I’m facing him. “You’re using this to try building that wall up again. The one I just managed to start knocking down. Don’t bother, I’ll just bring a bigger sledgehammer.” He strokes his long fingers along my jaw, his index finger rubbing along my bottom lip until my tongue slips out to lick along the tingle he leaves behind. He sounds genuine. He feels genuine too, if the state of his lap is anything to go by. There’s no denying the hard ridge pressing against my butt cheek.

  Taking a giant leap, I lean forward and softly brush my lips against his. A risk, but one that is quickly forgotten when his arm tightens around my back and one hand slides up my back and tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat where his open mouth latches.

  “God,” his voice rumbles. “You taste amazing.”

  “It’s my body lotion,” I offer, a bit out of breath.

  “Bullshit. It’s you. This ... I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, I’m aching with it.”

  “Neil,” I breathe, finally allowing my hands to explore him. My fingers kneading the muscles of his defined back and shoulders, my other hand cupped on the back of his head to hold him to me. Just as the previous few times his mouth has been on me, my brain becomes one big blank. Nothing registers except the slightly rough texture of his tongue stroking down my neck and teasing my clavicle. Down the sensitive skin that dips between my breasts where he nudges the edge of my T-shirt. I can’t stop the needy, senseless whimpers escaping me, pressing my chest out in offering. It’s not until his hand leaves my hair and starts tugging my shirt down that sanity returns and I manage to still his hand with mine. Even keeping it trapped against my breast, his fingers don’t stop moving. The gentle abrasion of his calloused fingertips over the bared strip of skin, edges closer to my nipple, already tightly puckered.

  “Let me have a taste.” The deep vibration of his voice against my chest only intensifies the erotic sensation. When he scrapes a single fingernail over my areola, I experience a full body shiver.

  Suddenly his mouth is back over mine and I eagerly open up to allow his tongue entry. With his entire hand now covering my breast, kneading gently, my body is buzzing. Buzzing loudly, because I don’t hear the door opening until my mother is standing in the doorway, clearing her throat loudly to announce her presence.

  “That’s my girl,” she says with a big, proud smile.

  And just like that, my body turns frigid. “Mom...” I scramble off Neil’s lap, trying to straighten my top at the same time. “I’m late for work. I’d better go.” A quick glance at Neil shows him squinting his eyes at me.

  “Can’t,” Mom informs me. “The road is still closed.” Calmly she drops her purse beside the chair and sits down.

  Fudge. Totally forgot about that. I immediately walk into the hallway to get my phone from my bag. By the time I’ve explained to the hospital I won’t make in today and why, both Neil and my mother have disappeared into the kitchen. When I poke my head in Neil is taking his omelet from the oven and Mom is pulling plates down from the cupboard.

  “Breakfast,” she announces casually over her shoulder. She’s always had a knack for knowing whenever my sister or I are around. When we were younger, we truly believed she had eyes in the back of her head, like she used to claim. “And then you can explain to me what is going on here.”

  Neil’s head shoots up and he looks at me, eyebrows raised in question. I shrug my shoulders; I’m used to Mom’s uncanny extra-sensory abilities.

  -

  The omelet is delicious. I’m surprised I’m able to eat any of it, but I end up digging in after tasting the first bite. Another checkmark on the plus side of my Neil list. If my mother hadn’t dumped a bucket of water on my weakening resolve where Neil is concerned, this might have tipped the scales in his favor.

  Mom leans back in her chair and takes a sip from her coffee. “Are you gonna talk or am I going to need to pull it out of one of you?” she challenges, looking from one to the other.

  “I’m working on an investigation that may involve your daughter. Not...” he says with
his hands up when Mom starts to protest. “Not that she is directly involved. But she may have unwittingly been in contact with someone who could be related to the case. So until we can make sure it will have no negative effect on her, we’re going to make sure she stays safe.”

  A very eloquent, and extremely evasive explanation that doesn’t seem to impress Mom much. Then again, she’s fierce when it comes to the protection of her girls.

  “And feeling my daughter up is part of your job description?” she asks in a biting tone.

  “Mom!” I jump in, not quite able to hide the smile at seeing Neil put on the spot. Yet, he stays surprisingly calm.

  “No, it isn’t. Your daughter is stubborn. I’m simply taking advantage of the fact she can’t avoid me like she has done her best to this past year.” He looks my mother straight in the eye, and she meets his gaze squarely.

  “And how old are you?”

  There we are. My misery is complete. I drop my head on the table, narrowly missing my empty plate and my mother starts chuckling.

  “Why? Did you think I didn’t notice you have a few years on him?” She directs at me. “It’s not as if I don’t know how you feel about dating younger men. God knows you lectured me enough about the dangers when you were barely out of your teens.”

  I groan loudly. “Barely, Mom? I was in college.”

  “You were judgmental ... and rigid. Always were, because you couldn’t understand my motivations. But Kenny, you are not me. I hope you never have to face losing the love of your life and struggling to find ways to keep living. And I certainly hope you don’t dismiss the promise of a good man by merit of something as insignificant as a few years.”