by Vella Day
She needed the caffeine hit to get her mind back into her lab work and not think about men, especially men like Derek Benally.
His name alone evoked a kaleidoscope of emotions ranging from sympathy to guilt to depression. She remembered how happy she’d been back in high school, but also how she’d chosen her career over what she thought was love.
In this case, it was best to let the bones stay buried.
6
Detective Seinkievitz wiggled in the driver’s seat. “Damn, my butt hurts. What do you say we call this one and return tomorrow?”
Not waiting for Derek’s reply, Seinkievitz rolled up the cruiser’s windows and cranked up the engine. Two kids on bikes sped down the sidewalk, nearly knocking over an elderly woman.
Derek’s fists bunched, his muscles ready to spring into action. Stupid juvies. Just as he was about to help the victim, she steadied and continued to teeter down the street.
Derek returned his attention to his fellow cop’s question. “It’s your case. Remember, I’m just an interested citizen along for the ride.” Right. Finding Rayne’s killer was his number one priority. Like he cared if he broke every rule in the police handbook. He’d find Rayne’s killer one way or another.
Derek hadn’t been able to keep his mind on any of his other cases since Rayne’s death, but he needed to close the pesky jumper case before the Captain jumped down his ass.
The problem was that the biting pain of loss kept assaulting him at all the wrong times. And here he prided himself on his control. No more. Derek didn’t like how his urge to beat the shit out of someone kept haunting him. Some kind of black ugly sludge had found its way inside his head and was fucking with him.
He rolled his shoulders to loosen his tight neck muscles and to clear his mind. Surveillance always killed him. Give him a clue to track down, and he’d never complain.
Derek slapped the dash. “Dammit. I wanted Piloseno.” He was itching for the confrontation, but the guy had been a no-show. Right now, he was their best suspect for who might have harmed his sister.
“Hey, me too.” Seinkievitz pulled into traffic and exited the low-class neighborhood.
Good riddance. For now. Derek rubbed his temples to ward off the impending headache that had threatened to erupt all day. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back in an attempt to quell the gnawing at his gut. Something was wrong. He could feel it.
Twenty seconds later, the sweet smell of sugar nearly suffocated him. Derek bolted upright. Seinkievitz was stuffing a fifth donut in his mouth as he shot through a busy intersection. Count ‘em, five. How did the man stay so skinny?
A car honked as Seinkievitz nearly clipped a van in the next lane. “Well, in my humble opinion,” Seinkievitz said, acting as if no one else existed in the land of autos, “I don’t think Piloseno would dare skip town so soon after being released.” The cop turned toward Derek.
Derek’s muscles tensed. Look at the damn road. “He’d better not.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a parolee ran though.” Seinkievitz returned his attention to the street.
Relaxing a bit, Derek cracked the window to let out the donut stench. He checked his watch for the hundredth time. “I think I’ll check out what Stefanie Gentry’s sister, Kelly, has to say about her sister’s whereabouts the night she died.” Given his light tone, he figured Seinkievitz would never pick up on his ulterior motive for wanting to see Kelly.
Derek told himself if he stayed at the station, he’d end up spending the next few hours filling out paperwork. Given his inability to concentrate, he’d do no one any good. No need to short-change the report gods by doing a crappy job.
Seinkievitz passed a motorist going ten miles over the speed limit, and a horn blasted as he cut back across a lane. “Watch it!” Derek shouted. “I want to live for another few days.”
The cop didn’t slow. Instead, he accelerated and smiled, as if he wanted to test Derek’s patience. “You’re wasting your time talking to the sister. According to Medina, she knew nada.” He licked his sticky fingers than wiped his them on his pant leg.
Gross. Derek shook his head. If only Seinkievitz wasn’t in charge of Rayne’s case, he’d...
“The dead woman was driving recklessly and crashed. Plain and simple,” Seinkievitz ran on, chunks of donut coating his teeth. Disgusting.
“I’ll take my chances.” Derek still wanted to speak with Kelly—not only about her sister’s accident—but about Rayne’s death. He didn’t dare tell Seinkievitz he planned to investigate on his own time in case the cop spilled the beans to the Captain about Derek’s ride-along. It wouldn’t help to have the boss on his ass any more than he was already.
After nearly running two traffic lights, his coworker dropped him off at the station. “Thanks, man,” Derek said. “I appreciate you letting me come along.” And getting me here in one piece.
“As if I let you.” Seinkievitz turned toward Derek, squinted and scrunched up his nose. “I don’t like being blackmailed.” Derek knew he was only half kidding.
“Then watch what you wear and who you sleep with.” The threat in his tone came out too harsh. Tough shit. The man needed discipline.
“Ooooh.” He held up two hands, and then laughed. His curled lip told Derek Seinkievitz was still pissed.
Before he met with Kelly, however, Derek needed to shower. Sitting in the car all afternoon probably made him smell like day-old socks, though he sure as hell wasn’t about to ask for Seinkievitz’s opinion. The man didn’t know the definition of hygiene.
As Derek strode back to his truck, two police cars pulled into the lot. Medina rolled out of one unmarked cruiser, waved, and headed inside.
Derek climbed into his cab and eased into traffic, careful to obey all speed limits. Though nearly dusk, the heat of the day hadn’t taken a hint and left. When sweat pulled his shirt closer to his chest, he cranked up the AC.
He slowed as he approached the yellow light, nervous about seeing Kelly again—not worried how she’d look, but rather how she’d react to him. Would the lines on his face or his bald head bother her? Would she be cool and cautious or delighted to see him?
What are you doing?
This wasn’t a date. He was investigating his sister’s murder. Shit. How had his priorities become so scrambled? Oh, yeah. The moment he’d heard Kelly Gentry’s name, his brain acted like a rat in a maze desperately looking for a way out. Not his dick though. Far from it.
Derek fanned his hand over the AC, hoping the cool air would jerk him back to reality, but it didn’t work. His mind refused to stop focusing on her. Would she be happy to see him? Perhaps more importantly, would Kelly accept his comfort?
Before he knew it, his apartment loomed in front of him. Derek parked, but missed the white lines by six inches. Tough. He didn’t have time to repark.
He raced upstairs, showered quickly, and then slipped on a clean pair of jeans and a blue buttoned down shirt. Kelly was a doctor who was a class act. She wouldn’t appreciate him looking like a slob.
At the last minute, he splashed on cologne. He studied the bottle, and then chuckled without joy. He’d never changed his brand since high school. Would she notice? Hell, he wondered if she was still using Channel No. 5. He shivered, trying to rid himself of his juvenile thoughts.
Needing to keep alert, he grabbed a soda from the fridge on the way out. Shit. He felt like a damn teenager going to his first prom. Why was that?
Because the witness was Kelly, stupid. Right.
As Derek pulled out of his parking space, another car shot out from behind him and nearly clipped his bumper. Derek slammed his palm on the horn. Damn it. He needed to concentrate on the meeting, not have to worry about the crazies.
He rolled down his window. “Look where you’re going.”
The poor woman looked crestfallen. Cripes. He shouldn’t have yelled at her. Hell, he hadn’t even looked to see it was a woman before he shouted. Seeing Kelly again was messing with his head. She alwa
ys set his blood pumping and his heart thumping.
Halfway to her house, Derek pulled out the Post-it note with Kelly’s name and address on it, but Medina had omitted the phone number. Derek should call the station for the information, but dammit, he needed to see her expression when he quizzed her about Stefanie’s last hours in case she had anything to do with her sister’s death. A good detective received his clues from eye movement and body language.
He pulled to a stop at a light and opened the paper again with Kelly’s address.
Fuck.
Her last name wasn’t Gentry any more. It was Rutland. She was married—to someone else. A dart of jealousy flew out of nowhere and pierced his heart. Derek had once loved her; watched her grow into a woman. He’d shared her joys and sorrows, and then watched her leave.
Sick at how things had ended, Derek was tempted to turn the car around. His fingers played the wheel like a piano, debating his choices as he waited for the light to turn green. If he went back now, he’d never learn about Rayne. His sister’s smiling face flashed in his mind’s eye, and Derek settled into police mode, determined to find her killer. Stowing his emotions into the back recesses of his mind, he took off, anxious to get on with the investigation.
Despite the heavy rush hour traffic heading north on Dale Mabry, the turn off to Kelly’s road appeared sooner than he’d wanted. One more turn brought him to her street, and the dead end led to a cozy cul-de-sac, shaded by water oaks and palmetto palms. Nice. Fancy, but not too uppity.
He searched the house numbers, a little surprised the Hyde Park style cottage at the end was hers. He would have guessed a doctor of her stature would own a bigger home. But Kelly came from a poor background, which was probably why they’d gotten along so well. They used to share dreams of having money, of traveling, of making a difference in the world.
She’d succeeded. Had he?
With money? Hell no. Traveling? Not much. To the third question, he hoped so, at least to the victims’ families.
A yellow Volkswagen sat in her drive, and he had to smile. Kelly had a fondness for everything yellow, especially sunflowers.
He eased his truck to the edge of the drive and cut the engine. He used the visor to check his appearance. After he pulled back his lip to make sure there was nothing stuck in his teeth, he hauled himself out. Hot air blasted him, constricting his chest. Exhaust fumes from the busy highway a mile away remained in the air.
His muscles were slow to respond. Coward. Move. Meet the husband, meet Kelly, ask her a few questions in a professional manner, and then get the hell out. Stop acting like a high school senior in love.
Though he usually only used his sage when he faced the dead, he removed it from his packet and held the calming scent to his nose, forcing himself to relax, to center himself, to focus.
When he felt ready, he stepped onto her walkway. With a metered stride, Derek headed to her house, careful not to step on the cracks between the pavers. The one superstition his father had passed onto him remained engraved in his brain.
When he’d eaten up all the space between the drive and the door, he knocked.
The scent of the jasmine that clung to the columns on either side of the door let out a sweet smell too strong to ignore. He took a deep breath to prepare to meet the woman who still held his heart in her hand.
7
Munching on a stale chocolate chip cookie while sitting at the kitchen counter, Kelly read her emails on her laptop. The day had been disappointing. She’d been convinced the clinical trials of the conjugated linoleic acid isomers were the definitive answer to tumor prevention, but she’d been wrong. Starting all over again put a lump in her stomach.
She kicked off her shoes and sighed with relief from having stood all day. The sandal wedges dropped to the tile kitchen floor with a clunk. Lab work wreaked havoc on the body, but she wouldn’t give up her passion for anything. Someday, she’d advance the cure for cancer. And on that day, maybe a little girl wouldn’t have to lose her dad.
Not only had the lab results not turned out as she’d hoped, but they’d come right after her unsettling meeting with Justin Bladen.
At first, she’d felt sorry for the guy. He’d lost a woman he loved and the mother of his unborn child. She could relate to the unceasing pain. Okay, fine, his anguish appeared sincere, but when he acted interested in her as a woman, the ick factor had kicked in. Mourning meant you couldn’t help but think of that person.
What the heck. Given the horrific week, her mind was probably misinterpreting all the signals. Reading men was not her forte. Oh, well. She’d probably never run into him again and should just be glad someone else understood how death could rip a person in half.
Just as she exited her email account and logged off her computer, a loud knock on the front door made her jump. Were the police here again?
She closed her laptop and rushed to the door, the cold foyer tile helping to cool her hot feet.
She shot a glance through the peephole, and all she could see was the top of a man’s chest. A nice, broad chest in a blue chambray shirt. Definitely not the cops.
Confused as to who could be calling, she cracked open the door and wedged her toe behind the door’s baseboard to prevent him from busting in. She ran her gaze up to his face. He blinked, and her focus shot straight to his eyes. Only one six-foot six man possessed eyes the color of sapphire and emerald morphed together. Every muscle in her bone-weary body turned to Jell-O.
Derek Benally at her door? Interest, excitement, and lust bombarded her, and all coherent thoughts flew out her mind. She opened her mouth to greet him but suddenly turned mute.
She was pretty sure why he’d come. He’d heard about Stef’s death and wasn’t here to start up where they’d left off. Her initial thrill deflated.
“Hello, Kelly,” he said, his voice as rich as Godiva chocolate—her favorite treat.
She swallowed to wet her mouth, hoping she hadn’t looked like a gawping fish as she drank in the sight of him. “Derek?”
Of course it was Derek. No length of time could erase his chiseled features or the way his full lips turned up slightly at the edges. And those eyes. Eyes never changed. Especially ones as distinctive as his.
She took in the rest of him. My, oh, my. He was taller, more broad-shouldered than she remembered. But then again, she hadn’t seen him since he was eighteen. He’d changed from a teen to a full-grown man. Definite man growth there. Time had been good to him. To his body. To his face.
But he’d shaved his head. Darn. She’d so loved to run her fingers through his long, thick, black hair.
Yet, despite the years since their last meeting, he did unimaginable things to her heart and soul. Always had and probably always would.
“May I come in?” He cocked a brow and focused solely on her eyes. The hard line of his mouth told her all she needed to know.
A slam of hurt blasted her. He wasn’t interested in her, which was a dramatic change from high school. He was here about Rayne, she bet.
She forced a calm she didn’t feel, plastered on her best cheerleading smile, and stepped out of the way to let him enter. His two long strides brought him into the foyer, and his closeness stole her breath away—again. Her chest tightened along with the pain of their parting. The right words wouldn’t form, and all she could do was motion him toward the living room.
Damn Derek Benally. And here she thought she’d moved on.
As Derek walked in front of her toward the sofa, his musky scent trailed behind him, transporting her to a time when they used to kiss behind the football bleachers.
Kelly allowed herself to become lost in the movement of his tight butt, narrow hips, and long muscular legs. And those shoulders. Ooooh. Boy, what he did to her insides.
Stop fantasizing. Twelve years was a lifetime ago. Get a grip.
Kelly glanced down at her chipped toenail polish and sobered. What was wrong with her? Her sister had just died and here she was acting as if she didn’t have a
care in the world. She was no better than Justin Bladen.
Recognizing the need for space between them, Kelly hurried behind his powerful form and slipped down into the lone high-back chair across from him. She curled her toes, not having given any thought to her appearance in days.
Wouldn’t ya know? She was a mess and today he had to show up. Mercury must be in retrograde
Good thing he sat far enough away or else she’d have to inhale his wonderful scent. Remembering how good he always smelled conjured other memories of how he used to hold her with strong arms and kiss her with his full, soft lips. Her mouth went dry as she felt herself lean forward. Suddenly, Stef’s face intruded and Kelly straightened, embarrassed by her reaction, especially during her time of mourning.
“You’re looking...good,” he said, his lips pressed firmly together as if he were holding in a lie.
She knew she looked tired. The bags under eyes were darker than normal because of the sleepless nights since her sister’s death. At least she weighed only ten pounds more than she had in high school. Had he meant to say more or hadn’t she aged well?
“Thank you.” I think.
He ran a hand over his bald pate where a dark stubbled shadow threatened to spoil the clean landscape. “I, ah, I wanted to come by and say I’m sorry for your loss.”
Just as she’d thought. A sympathy call. Nothing more. Nonetheless, his sentiment touched her deeply. “Thank you. I heard about Rayne’s suicide. It was such a shame.”
He nodded. Despite the trite conversation, Kelly received comfort from him being there.
“Thanks, but I didn’t come here to reminiscence, especially about the dead.”
Kelly stiffened at his sudden calloused tone, and she tried not to let her shoulders sag. So what if he hadn’t come to give comfort. Disappointment tugged at her belly—or was it closer to hurt?
She leveled him a stare. “Okay. Why did you come?” Her hands caressed the nubby chair arm, the fabric soothing her palms, but not her heart.
