by JL Simpson
She added, “Where is Mrs. Randall?”
Exhausted, she lay on the sofa for a minute, to rest her eyes. Solomon couldn’t possibly be gone for much longer, but she was loath to go to bed until he showed up, in case he needed her for something.
*
Solomon slipped the key in the front door and stepped inside, tugging the dog along behind him. He’d been longer than he intended. The house was silent. Had Daisy gone to bed and forgotten to set the alarm? He made his way to the kitchen, to check the security panel. It was unarmed. The dog happily followed him into the utility room, drank some water from Rosebud’s bowl, and curled up on the pillow Molly insisted belonged on the floor for her princess puppy to sleep on, during the day.
Happy the dog was settled, Solomon closed the utility room door, and went looking for Daisy. Light shone from under the door to the lounge. No one could breach the outer defenses of the property without being let in. The garden wall was built as more than a deterrent, but it never hurt to be too careful. He tugged his gun from the back of his black jeans. After taking up position next to the door, he shoved it open with his foot. When he got no response, he peered around the doorframe, gun at the ready. The flames in the fireplace crackled and licked around half burnt logs. Soft snoring sounded from the sofa.
Safety on, Solomon slipped the gun back into his jeans. He crossed the room. An empty wine bottle and glass sat on the coffee table. The whiteboard from his study stood in front of the television. Daisy had done well to include all the details from the one in the office, as well as some of her own.
She moaned, and shifted in her sleep. Neither of them would solve the case tonight. Too jazzed to rest, he planned to print the photos he’d taken, and see what else he could add to Daisy’s whiteboard, but that didn’t mean Daisy had to miss out on her beauty-sleep. He dropped to a crouch next to the sofa, and gave her a gentle shake. Her only response was to snuggle deeper into the soft cushions.
When another shake garnered the same response, he scooped her into his arms. Her eyelids fluttered, but she slept on. Every time he picked her up he was surprised to discover that she was lighter than he expected, despite her feminine curves. She must burn off all the shite she ate, without needing to go to a gym.
She shifted, pressing her face into his shoulder and he smiled. What would it be like to have a woman of his own, who trusted him so implicitly? If Daisy knew who was manhandling her, she’d have a fit. She was too tired, and he suspected too drunk, to care.
Careful not to jostle her too much, he climbed the stairs, and made his way down the corridor. The door to the spare room swung open when he nudged it with his hip. Balancing Daisy in one arm, he tugged the blankets back with his free hand, and then gently laid her on the bed. She’d taken off her boots at some point during the evening, but was still dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a shirt. He’d slept in his clothes more times than he cared to remember. The experience was never comfortable. He blew out a breath. God help him.
Daisy snuffled and moaned, and Solomon froze with his fingers inside the waistband of her jeans. When she settled again, he undid the button and gently unzipped her fly. Moving down her body, he grasped the bottom of her pants and gave them a tug. As they slid over her hips and down her thighs, he made a conscious effort not to notice the scrappy piece of pale blue and white satin and lace that Daisy considered appropriate underwear. Jeysus. Paul was a lucky man. Most of his other married friends complained their wives no longer cared about how they looked, and sexy underwear was thrown out with the leftover wedding cake and soiled nappies. Obviously Daisy still thought Paul was worth the effort.
Freed from her jeans, Daisy rolled over, and Solomon blew out a breath. Thank God her panties were a little more substantial than the dental floss G-string his last date had favored. However she still had more backside on display than a brother-in-law should ever witness. If she got too hot in her sweater, she’d have to suffer. He’d seen enough. His brain might know Daisy was out of bounds, but his trouser snake didn’t appear to have received the message. The poor thing was sadly lacking female attention of late, so the response was hardly unexpected.
He pulled the blankets up to her waist and stood a moment watching her, before leaning over and planting a kiss on her cheek. Daisy had been brilliant the last few days. She drove him crazy, and caused more trouble than he’d ever thought possible. He was constantly rude, undermined her at every opportunity, and generally made life as his partner hell, and yet here she was, sleeping in his house and taking care of his little girl, the most precious thing in the world to him. He’d try to do better by Daisy in future.
“Night, Daisy.”
She sighed and rolled over. “Night, Solomon.”
He chuckled. On some level, she knew who he was, but come morning, when she worked out who had undressed her and put her to bed, she would go mental. She really needed to learn to hold her liquor.
After pulling the door closed behind him, he stepped into the next room, and took a quick look at Molly. She had to have woken while he was out, because she was curled up sleeping with Rosebud back in her arms. He rescued the dog, relieved to find the puppy hadn’t wet the bed. Molly’s even breathing never changed, as he kissed her pudgy cheek and whispered that he loved her.
Rosebud wiggled in his arms, desperate to lick any part of Solomon he could get his tongue on. Solomon jogged silently down the hall and stairs, and finally out the back door, and deposited Rosebud on a patch of lawn. The dog stumbled toward the flower border on shaky legs. One sniff of a rose bush, and he relieved himself.
Solomon smiled. “Good boy. Now how about you come and see if you can’t help me solve a murder?”
He scooped up the poodle, being careful to lock the back door as he headed inside. A couple more hours should see the pictures printed, and then he’d find out what they revealed, assuming they shed any light on the case at all.
Chapter Forty-Three
Solomon pulled the SUV away from the curb. Daisy waved and then wound up the passenger side window. He took one last glance in the rearview mirror. Molly seemed content enough in the nanny’s arms. It was good of Daisy’s friend, Cherry, to let Emily take care of Molly, but it wasn’t the permanent solution he needed. He’d still not called his solicitor back about signing the paperwork to contest custody of Molly.
Maybe he’d wait and see if he was able to persuade Lisa to give her up without a fight, once he solved the case. She was more than a casual bystander in whatever was going on. He could go and speak to her again, but he didn’t want to reveal his hand. As far as Lisa was concerned, he knew nothing about what caused a man to be shot in her bed. And the God’s honest truth was, as of this moment, he didn’t actually know much at all.
He glanced at Daisy, who’d resumed glaring out the window, now they were alone. Not only had he offended her sensibilities by putting her to bed, he’d failed to mention he’d left a standard poodle in the utility room before she opened the door. At least she’d been able to confirm Jethro was one of Candy’s dogs. He seemed very fond of her. Solomon smiled. Based on the way Daisy had screamed, he got the impression the feeling wasn’t entirely mutual.
“Are you ever going to forgive me?”
“You should have woken me up.”
“I tried, Princess, but you were dead to the world. A whole bottle of wine will do that to a person.”
She crossed her arms, and let out a humph. The day was going to be trying enough without her sulking.
“I’m sorry I saw your underwear. If it’s any consolation, you’ve seen mine a time or two—and more—and I’ve no complaints.”
“That’s because you’re a man and an exhibitionist. Besides, you wear boring white boxer briefs, and what you keep in them isn’t worth viewing.”
Solomon fought to keep a straight face. She was still angry, but once she moved from giving him the silent treatment to fighting back, it was only a matter of time before she’d get over it. “And the fact yo
u were wearing something from Victoria’s Secret’s Winter Collection makes a difference?”
Daisy turned and stared wide eyed at him. “How do you even know that?”
“I’m a big fan.”
“Of my underwear?” She squirmed in her seat, and her face flushed with heat.
“I’ve no complaints about you or your underwear, but I meant a fan of Victoria’s Secret.”
Her brow furrowed. “Do you wear their stuff when you’re home alone?”
He chuckled.
“That wasn’t supposed to be funny.”
Solomon came to a stop at a red light, and turned to face her using his best hang dog expression and pleading tone. “Will you not forgive me? I promise to never undress you again. It was a brotherly gesture. I’ve slept in clothes, and know how uncomfortable it can be. I’d no more desire to see your toned backside in your tiny unmentionables than you had to flash your arse at me. I’ll forget I ever saw it.”
Daisy chewed her bottom lip, her fingers plucking lint from her jacket sleeve. “You think it’s toned?”
Solomon struggled to hold back a smile. “Not that I was looking but I’d have to say Paul is a lucky man, to have the pleasure of sharing a bed with such a fine piece of arse.”
She let out a sullen sigh. “You’re overdoing it now.”
“Am I? Would it be okay, if I at least admitted I had a pang of regret that Paul had something I didn’t?”
“Me?”
“Not precisely. I meant a woman of his own. One with a fine backside, and heart enough to care about a man she insists she hates.”
“I don’t care about you. I care about Molly.”
“Well, that’s grand. We’ll not care about each other then, but can we at least put the cold war on hold, until after the case is solved?”
Daisy shrugged, which was probably the closest to forgiveness he was going to get.
Solomon pulled away from the lights.
She leaned forward. “Where are we going?”
“To see a woman about a dog.”
“I hate dogs.”
“They seem very fond of you.”
*
Daisy glanced at Solomon, and he winked. Maybe she was being overly sensitive. He’d seen her in less on the beach, when they all stayed in Ibiza. He’d also disappeared for a week of their three-week stay, with Paul in tow. They’d both still been in the army, but on leave, when they got an urgent call. She was left to smolder in the sun with Erin, Solomon’s blonde bimbo of choice. That relationship went south when Erin took off with a body builder from Durham, two days into Solomon’s disappearing act. Neither Paul nor Solomon would tell Daisy anything about where they’d been, swearing it was a national secret, but they were both far too cagey for her liking. Was that when they went to Morocco?
“Do you remember Ibiza?”
Solomon pulled the SUV into the curb outside Lisa’s. “What about Ibiza?”
“You disappeared with Paul.”
“And you got a lovely tan.”
“Where did you go?”
Solomon shook his head. “I’ll not be giving away secrets.”
“Your secrets or the Government’s?”
“I don’t give away any secrets.”
“You know I can find out, if I want to. I found out about you and Paul being brothers.”
“And now I know what a terrible snoop you are, I’ve done a better job of hiding things.”
“So the information is hidden amongst your stuff?”
“Ibiza is not important. Speaking to Nobby is.”
“What would Nobby say about Ibiza?”
“I’ve no idea, Princess. I’m not sure she’s ever been.”
Solomon climbed out of the SUV, and Daisy followed suit.
“I think she has.”
Solomon shook his head. “You need to let this go. We’ve a murderer to catch.”
Daisy slammed the car door. “Fine. Whatever. But don’t think I’m going to stop trying to find out what you were all doing in Morocco, and where you went when you left me to fend for myself in Ibiza.”
“It was year’s ago. You’d not long met Paul, and being left in a suite in a beachside hotel, was no hardship.”
“Not the point. Paul and I don’t have secrets.”
“So ask Paul, then.”
“No. I don’t want him to think I don’t trust him.”
“Do you trust him?”
Daisy fell into step next to Solomon, as they made their way through the gate and along the front path. She sighed. “I do.”
“Then let the past stay in the past. The man loves the bones of you. Once upon a time, I might have been able to lead him astray, but you’ve been his whole world since the day he lifted you out of the gutter. You’ve more than most people can ever hope to find. Don’t be digging up things that are best left buried. Besides, you’ve things of your own you’ve not shared with him. For instance, does he know you’ve spoken to Nobby? Or that she’s involved in this case?”
Daisy glared at him. One of the reasons she couldn’t ask Paul was because he’d want to know who told her about Morocco. “I wasn’t in the gutter. The heel of my shoe broke.”
Solomon flashed a lopsided smile. “I know. Now can we get back to work?”
“Do you really think I’ll give up that easily?”
“Not a chance in hell, but a man can dream, can’t he?”
Daisy glanced at the front door. “Should we knock?”
Solomon pulled a key from his pocket, slipped it into the lock, and gave it a turn. The door swung open, and he stepped back to let Daisy inside first.
She made her way down the hall, toward the lounge. “Nobby?”
A loud crash sounded from the back of the house. Daisy wobbled in her high heeled boots, and grabbed at a hallstand to steady herself, as Solomon shoved her aside and ran toward the noise.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Wait here.”
His command was fine with her. If he wanted to play super hero, she wasn’t about to stop him. She’d seen enough blood on this case already.
Chapter Forty-Four
Solomon stopped just short of the door to the living room, and pressed himself against the wall. He glanced back at Daisy, who stood in the middle of the hallway, her gaze focused in the direction of the noise. She might as well have a target painted in the middle of her forehead. One of Molly’s teddy bears lay on the hallstand. Solomon picked it up and tossed it at Daisy, to get her attention without alerting whoever was inside of their arrival. When it bounced off her chest, she screamed. Footsteps pounded in their direction.
“Daisy, get the feck down.”
She dropped to her hands and knees, and crawled to hide behind the staircase wall. Thank God the house didn’t have an open banister with slats. A man burst through the kitchen door with a gun aimed at the spot where Daisy stood only moments before. Solomon sprung forward, tackled the intruder around the thighs, and rammed his shoulder into the man’s stomach, as they both fell to the ground. Solomon landed on top, fighting to keep a grip on the intruder’s right arm, but the man was no slouch. The man squeezed Solomon’s throat with his huge left hand. Within seconds, Solomon was struggling for air.
His breathing was ragged, and his pulse pounded in his ears. If he blacked out, he’d leave Daisy unprotected. He gripped the man’s hand with both of his, and tried to pry him off. The man wrapped his legs around Solomon’s waist, trapping him in place. All Solomon’s struggling did was use up what little strength he had left. His chest convulsed, and his lungs ached, desperately seeking another gulp of air. He was done. His life was over, unless his opponent relented. Solomon stopped trying to pull the man’s hand from his throat, and shifted from defense to attack, scrambling to pop an eye into its socket, or to break the man’s nose.
With a growl, the man rolled until he had Solomon pinned beneath him. Solomon had seen some ugly bastards in his time, but this guy made the top ten. A deep red scar ran from his le
ft eye to the corner of his mouth. The puckered skin made his eye droop, and twisted his lips into a permanent grimace. He might be older and uglier than in the picture, but Solomon had no doubt his assailant was Bogdan.
Solomon bucked his hips, in an effort to throw him off. Bogdan grunted, but didn’t budge. With the man’s knees pressed into his shoulder’s, there was nothing more Solomon could do. Not only was his life about to end in Lisa’s front hallway, but he’d failed to protect Daisy, and would leave his little girl with no one to love her the way a child should be loved. He couldn’t see Daisy, but he’d heard nothing to indicate she’d gone for help. She might have had the sense to escape. Vision fading, Solomon closed his eyes, and let his body relax. If Bogdan thought he passed out, he might be stupid enough to drop his guard, and give Solomon a fighting chance.
Footsteps sounded in the tiled hallway. Feck, Daisy. She’d stayed and seen the whole thing. She probably thought he was dead. If she was smart, she’d be running for the front door, but no, the footsteps headed in their direction. Bogdan’s weight shifted, and the man let out a grunt of pain. His hand slipped from Solomon’s neck. Not one to miss an opportunity, Solomon shoved, and the man rolled onto his back with a deep, gut wrenching moan.
Bogdan’s face was pale and sweating. One hand was clasped between his legs, the other still clung onto the gun. Before Solomon could grab the weapon, a black stiletto heel crunched down on the man’s hand. Daisy bent over, tugged the gun free, and then removed her foot. When Bogdan scrambled to get the gun back, grabbing at her ankle with both hands, Daisy took the opportunity to bury her other foot in his groin. Solomon shuddered in sympathy, as he pushed to his feet, sucking in lungfuls of air in an attempt to kick start his oxygen starved brain.
Daisy held the gun like a professional, aimed directly at Bogdan’s testicles. If getting his nuts kicked so hard they lodged in his throat didn’t slow him down, she obviously intended to bring him to heel by emasculating him with a bullet.
