by Jen Talty
Shit.
Did that just come out of her mouth?
He cleared his throat. “First, I never meant to treat you like a child. When Becca came running into the conference room and told me your car had blown up, so many things went through my mind. I have never felt so hopeless before.” He kissed her temple.
“And second?” she asked, wondering if she really wanted an answer.
“I like the idea of you being my girlfriend, for the record.” He winked.
God, he was so adorable when he flirted.
Her cheeks heated. “I didn’t mean to jump us from one night to relationship status. I mean, I’ve been kind of a bitch to you since my brother died, and we really don’t know each other. Probably should take things slow.”
“You sure know how to cover a lot of ground in one sentence.” He scratched the side of his face. “Yes. Slow. I like slow. And you weren’t a bitch. I should have listened, and I didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t have listened to me,” she said, palming his cheek. There was so much she didn’t know about him and so much she wanted to share. He had the kind of heart she knew she could love. The kind of man she wanted to love. “I know I didn’t have anything to go on the night I came over here begging for your help.”
He pressed his finger against her lips. “That’s not the point. And you do now.”
She adjusted her throbbing thigh, groaning.
“I’ll let you rest while I make us some food.”
“Wait.” She tugged at his arm before he could stand and walk away. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
Where to start? She had so many questions, both personal and professional. “Is it possible to make it look like a car explosion was an accident?”
“Truth?” He lowered his chin and arched a brow.
“Yes.” She wanted nothing but the truth from Garret, even if it was something she didn’t want to hear.
“Cars don’t usually burst into flames like they do in the movies. Not even when they catch fire, so for yours to explode like that, well, something had to have made that happen. I got a text from Becca that said they have taken the car to forensics, so they are definitely looking for something.”
“Like a bomb?”
“Exactly.”
“Jesus,” she muttered, swallowing the thick lump of fear that had formed in her throat. Her hands trembled. “So, we know then my car was tampered with while I was in that house.”
He nodded. “Mind you, we have no proof of anything yet. But between the fact that Julia doesn’t exist, and your car randomly exploding, which isn’t really possible, Rusty is working on the idea that this is a potential attempted homi—”
“Please don’t finish that statement.” She shuddered at the thought of joining her brother in the afterlife. Steve had more than his share of hard knocks in his lifetime. He’d struggled in high school. Dropped out of college twice.
And yeah, he had done drugs.
But it had been three years and while there had been times Tabitha didn’t trust that her brother was pulling it together.
This hadn’t been one of those times.
“We’re going to figure this out, and whoever did this to you, and your brother, are going to pay.”
Chapter 8
Garret rubbed his temples. His eyes stung from staring at a computer screen, reading statements and reports over and over again for the last three hours. He’d come to a few big conclusions. The biggest one had been that whoever had tried to kill Tabitha today linked back to Moore’s party. He clicked open the email from Fletch, staring at the picture of Steve and Ashley. He’d hoped the other couple had been Moore and his wife, or perhaps his daughter and her husband.
Who happened to be Assistant District Attorney Jeff Bellen.
But one couple he didn’t recognize, and the other, their backs had been turned.
Tabitha, who sat across the table, let out an audible sigh.
“Are you comfortable?”
She had her leg stretched out across another chair, with a pillow under her foot and an ice pack placed over the bandage. He hated seeing her jaw tighten every time she moved, causing her more pain.
“I’m about as cozy as I’m gonna get after a piece of metal ripped through my thigh.” She peered over the laptop she’d been working on, sporting a sarcastic grin. “I know you’re just being thoughtful, but really, if I need something, I’ll ask.”
“This coming from the woman who told me how fiercely independent she was.” He clicked his mouse, sending her an email with the picture. Hopefully, she’d know at least one of them.
“I am, but I kind of like watching you jump out of your seat whenever I feel like asking for something.”
He quickly checked his phone. One text from Declan.
Declan: Wesley Armond is assisting with the investigation into Tabitha’s car. Ace says he’s as trustworthy as Rusty, who has been named lead detective.
Garret: Thanks. I’ve asked my buddy Fletch to look into Officer Riley.
He laughed. “Don’t get used to it. Once you’re all healed, you’ll go back to hosing down your own roses.” He closed his computer, folding his arms over the top. “Because I really like the view.”
She crumpled a piece of paper and tossed it, nailing him on the forehead. “I think I’ll be putting up a fence.”
The ease at which they had settled into flirty conversation surprised Garret. Even with his last girlfriend, he found himself with the jitters. As a kid, girls and boys teased him about his height. He’d always been so much taller than everyone else, and one kid dubbed him the Jolly Green Giant in sixth grade. He’d tried to laugh it off, but it had always made him feel like he was different from everyone else.
It carried over into his teenage years when girls started to think his height was sexy, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the attention since he didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin. The fact that he’d ran up to her bedroom, shedding his clothes without a care in the world had shocked him to the core. He knew women could be shy and concerned about their bodies. They were so much harder on each other in general than men.
But it was usually him dimming the lights and staying hidden under the sheets.
He snagged a beer from the fridge. He knew she wasn’t taking the pain killers the hospital offered since she refused to fill the script, saying she couldn’t stand the way they made her feel. “Would you like a beer or some wine?”
She leaned closer to the computer screen. “I might need something harder.” She flipped the computer around. “That woman in the picture with my brother and Ashley was my client this morning.”
“Are you sure?” He set the beer on the table, grabbing another one before sitting down next to her.
“Absolutely. That’s her. But now her hair is a little longer, and she had a big, gray streak. She’s got to be in her late fifties, early sixties, I would think.”
“The man she’s with appears to be older.” Garret twisted the screen. “There are two other people in this image, but their backs are turned. Any idea where or when it was taken?”
“I don’t know where. Nothing looks familiar, but based on my brother’s bad haircut and the fact he’s with Ashley, I’d say maybe four years ago.” She leaned back in her chair, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a delicate motion. “I wasn’t speaking to him much back then.”
“Why not?” The one thing Garret really regretted was not paying more attention to her plea for help. Once he’d read the report, he’d been satisfied that her brother had large quantities of drugs in his system and that he’d been passed out and the fire overtook the house.
He’d seen it many times. Drug addicts burning candles, knocking them over while they shot up, or overdosed, the needle still hanging from their veins when first responders would show up, just like her brother. However, thinking back, the autopsy said Steve had died of an overdose. He didn’t have smoke in his lungs because he hadn
’t breathed any in. The fire investigator, Wesley, had stated that the fire had been started in the bedroom. Steve died in the kitchen.
It was still possible that Steve had stumbled out of his bedroom, knocking over the candle without knowing it, or maybe the window had been open, and the wind knocked it over.
“Because of the drug use. He stole money from me a few times. But he’d been clean and sober for the last three years, and there was no sign of him falling off the wagon. He was gainfully employed and going after his dreams. I saw him a couple times a week, and I know he was going to meetings.” She spoke with a slight tremble in her voice, but also the tone carried a sense of strength and pride.
He scooted closer, resting his hand on her back, rubbing up and down.
“I’m going to see if I can find Wesley’s phone number so I can talk to him directly.”
“Who is Wesley?” she asked, her lashes flickering over her questioning orbs.
“I don’t know him well, but he used to be a firefighter with the Air Force. Now he’s an investigator for the Fire Marshall. He was lead on your brother’s fire.”
“You know him?” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Fuck,” she groaned, clutching her leg.
“Sit down,” he said as softly as he could, pressing his hands on her hips.
“Don’t touch me.” She batted him away before letting her butt fall back on the chair. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you knew him. He could have very well covered up evidence that proves—”
“And he might have done his job. I read the report. I went over every detail along with the police report and the autopsy. That’s quite the conspiracy theory to think all those people are involved in covering up a murder.”
“My brother didn’t accidentally overdose,” she huffed under her breath. “I thought you believed me.”
“Tabitha, I do. Something doesn’t add up, but I think you’re looking at this all wrong.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re assuming someone covered up something. That the police, or the investigator, or the medical examiner, or all three are guilty of conspiracy. But isn’t it possible that someone pumped those drugs into your brother and then started the fire?” Gently, he placed the ice pack back on her leg. Kneeling, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Whatever happened the day Ashley died set this in motion. That’s what we need to focus on. Who would want her dead and why? And what did your brother really know about it?”
She curled her fingers around his wrist.
“You’re saying that it’s possible that no one who handled my brother’s case could be dirty?”
He shook his head. “Not what I’m saying at all. I have my doubts about the one cop, Riley. It seemed odd to me that he just happened to be driving by when Sandra’s car burst into flames. And that’s another thing. I was reading that report, and I am an expert in fires. The thing is, she crashed into a tree. There were no witnesses, and Riley said he didn’t pass the accident until after the car had been burning hot, so how did he get hurt? I don’t buy his story.”
“You read his statement?” Her eyes went wide as she dropped her hands to her lap.
“I called in a favor.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you did that or any of this other stuff that has been floating around in your mind?”
He pulled up a chair, sitting as close as he could without having her on his lap. “Partly because I didn’t want to worry you until I had more information. I’ve got friends digging into all of this.”
“I want to be in the loop. I want to see everything. Be involved in every conversation. It’s my brother who died, and I’m the one someone tried to kill today and—”
His phone rang.
“It’s my boss, Ace. I’ll put it on speaker.” He tapped the phone, setting it next to the computer. “Hey, boss.”
“I’ll skip right to the point. Tabitha’s car was rigged with a bomb.”
She gasped, covering her mouth. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“No need to be,” Ace said.
Garret took her hand, hoping she didn’t slap it away. Thankfully, she gripped it tighter.
“The trigger for the bomb was a timer, which was engaged the moment the car was turned on. Wesley estimates about five minutes.”
“Not a lot of time for Julia, or whatever her name is, to get out of harm’s way.” Garret rolled his neck, trying to ease the tension.
“Well, we don’t know her role in all of this yet,” Ace said. “However, Wesley said, if Tabitha is willing to give him the information her brother collected, he would open up her brother’s case file for re-examination of the fire. He has no control over the police department, unless he can find something and if he does—”
“Do you really trust this guy?” Tabitha interjected.
“I do,” Ace said. “He was my crew chief for a year before he resigned from his post. He’s a good man. He doesn’t have much of a personality, but if I have to go running into a burning building with him, I know he’d have my back.”
“And I trust Ace.” Garret tossed in for good measure.
“I’ve got to run. My boys are running wild, and I promised the family a sunset boat ride. I’ll have my phone, so reach out if you need to.”
“Thanks, boss.” Garret took his phone, ending the phone call. “I promise, I will keep you in the loop, but you have to trust me.”
She nodded, but the sadness etched in her face didn’t ease up.
“What do you need right now?”
“A sunset boat ride,” she whispered.
Chapter 9
Sleep had eluded Tabitha. And if that wasn’t bad enough, because of her tossing and turning, Garret hadn’t got much shut-eye either.
Quietly, she rolled to her side. Based on Garret’s deep breathing, she hoped he’d been able to fall back asleep. Her thigh throbbed with every beat of her heart. It hurt so bad during the night, it gave her a whopping headache. The dark night sky slowly turned a light blue, even though sunrise was a good hour or so away.
Tenderly, she put a little weight on her sore leg.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Garret asked, pulling back the sheets.
She tried not to smile as her mid-section warmed as she stared at his bare chest and long legs. He wore only a pair of loose boxers and how she wanted to get in them.
“To the bathroom.” She glanced down at her tank top and her own boy shorts that she’d brought from her house when Garret had so kindly carried her across the yards. She could have taken pajamas that covered more, especially since she hadn’t been up for anything sexual because of her injury.
If she were being totally honest, it wasn’t just her leg that had kept her from sleeping well, but the man she lay next to all night. Inhaling his fresh musky scent that reminded her of sitting in a hot spring, smelling the rich outdoorsy aroma. His muscular frame holding her protectively, making her feel safe.
Cared for.
Even desired when his lips brushed against her temple right before he got out of bed to get her a glass of water or some Tylenol at two in the morning. He’d been so attentive, and never once tried to push her, where other men would have. It nearly brought tears to her eyes. For weeks before her brother died, she and Garret had begun to grow close, sharing long walks. They talked mostly about books, movies, and his buddies’ kids.
“Let me help you.” He stood, stretching his arms over his head and twisting his body.
It was impossible not to look him up and down, admiring his perfectly defined physique. Every muscle flexed and popped like a well-oiled machine.
“You’re staring,” he mused.
“Anyone ever tell you that you should be the cover of the firemen and puppies calendar?”
He shook his head as he curled his arm around her waist. “When I was little, kids used to tell me I belonged on a bag of vegetables.”
She covered her mouth with her free hand as she
hobbled toward the bathroom. “You were not called the Jolly Green Giant, were you?”
“Yep. Kind of hated that.”
She gipped his biceps, turning to face him at the doorway to the bathroom. “Kids can be cruel. When I was in middle school, everyone used to ask me to crinkle my nose and make something disappear, usually the pimples on my face.”
“That’s really mean. I mean, seriously, Tabitha, the witch. So cruel.”
“Yep. Kind of hated that.” She chuckled, so happy he focused on the lesser of cruelties.
“I imagine you did.” His thumb gently glided across her cheek. “But you’d be beautiful to me even if you had a green nose with warts.”
“That would match your green body.”
Suddenly, his phone made a buzzing sound. She jerked, hitting her forehead against his nose.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“I didn’t hit you that hard,” she mused.
“It’s not that.” He held her by the biceps. “You okay on your own? I’ve got to answer that. It’s a work S.O.S.”
“Sure.” She braced herself using the towel rack before closing the door. Running a hand through her hair, she tried to tame the bedhead. She turned on the faucet, splashing her face with cold water. Life had taken some strange twists. For years, she’d been afraid she’d lose her brother to a drug overdose.
There had been a time when it felt like she’d already lost her brother, so when he’d shown up on her doorstep, claiming sobriety, she practically slammed the door in his face. But over time, letting him into her life slowly, Steve had shown he’d truly changed.
Knock. Knock.
“Tabitha?”
“I’ll be right out.”
“I’d make it quick. We’ve got a problem.”
She wiped her face dry before hobbling to the door. “What now?”
He looped his arm around her waist. “You’re going to want to be sitting down for this.”
