by Debra Webb
“Thank you, Austin,” she muttered. As much as she hated all he’d done to make her miserable, she couldn’t help feeling sorry for how he must have suffered the final minutes of his life. Would he have felt any sympathy for her had she been the one murdered? She doubted it. Anger chased away some of the softer emotions. He would be thrilled she couldn’t put up a fuss about the divorce.
After finger combing her hair and checking her teeth, she returned to the main room. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air. Blake stood as soon as she came into sight.
When she’d resumed her seat, he started his questions again. “What do you know about the woman he was with Friday night?”
“Barbie?”
He chuckled at the way she said the other woman’s name. “Yes.”
“She’s Barbie Sue White. One of the waitresses at the bar knew her.” The painful realization that Marie and her kids had lost their home—probably because someone wanted to get to her—made Julie sick to her stomach. She should never have accepted her friend’s hospitality. Now her home and possessions were gone. All the mementoes from her babies’ first years were lost.
How would Marie ever forgive her?
“This isn’t your fault.”
His eyes were the darkest brown she’d ever seen. Like his hair. Deep, rich brown. She wondered if he had a wife or a girlfriend. He didn’t wear a ring. Who could tell about that anymore? He could have a wife and half a dozen kids running around for all she knew.
Why in the world was she even thinking about his marital status?
Because she needed a distraction. Anything to take her mind off the reality of what was happening to her. Her best friend’s house had burned down. The man she’d married had been murdered and she was a suspect.
Oh, wait, and that didn’t even include the fact that she’d been shot at. The possibility of what could happen next terrified her.
She lifted her chin in defiance of the emotions twisting inside her. “You’re right. It’s not my fault. Now all we have to do is prove who is responsible.”
“Randall Barton.”
The certainty in his deep voice made her shiver. “Do you have any evidence at all that it’s him?” It wasn’t that she wanted to be uncooperative, but Randall had always been so good to her. Always. In subtle ways, he’d tried to make up for Austin’s infidelity and neglect. The idea that he had spoken negatively about her to the police simply made no sense. “It’s just that, he has never given me any reason to believe he’s anything but kind and generous.”
Could she trust her judgment? Probably not. She was still reeling from finding Austin’s body. The blood. She shuddered. Austin was dead. Austin—the man to whom she was married for three and a half years. How could she have known so little about the real man? How was she supposed to believe Randall was some sort of mobster?
It was all simply too much.
Blake lowered his tall frame into the club chair next to the sofa, his coffee cradled in his big hands. “There are whispers in the organized crime world about brothers on the southeast coast who operate behind the scenes.”
“Whispers?” Surely he wasn’t basing all he’d told her on rumors and innuendoes. He’d spent an hour telling her all the drug smuggling and nasty crimes Randall orchestrated. Where was the proof? Without evidence, even if she believed the story, Lieutenant Cannon would laugh her out of his office and right into a prison cell.
“The Bartons have always maintained several degrees of separation. No getting their hands dirty.”
“If all you say is true, you’re suggesting that someone Austin double-crossed killed him? Since I saw the list and confronted Austin, is it possible that same someone wants to make sure I don’t share what I know.”
“Possibly.” He set his coffee aside. “At this point, my instincts are leaning toward Randall as the one who ordered Austin’s death. And yours.”
He’d implied as much before, but she just couldn’t wrap her head around the idea. “Randall loved Austin. You’ll never convince me he did this.” There were some things that just weren’t possible.
Blake held up his hands surrender style. “Let’s move on for the moment and focus on what we can do.”
“I’m listening.”
“When Austin left the bar on Friday night, his girlfriend, Miss White, was with him.”
“Lieutenant Cannon said her alibi was airtight.” Julie watched Blake take another sip of his coffee. Rather than look unkempt, a day’s beard growth made him even more handsome. And there she went off into fantasyland again.
“Why don’t we find out for ourselves?” He stood.
“What makes you think she’ll tell us anything different than she did the cops?” Julie couldn’t see her talking to them at all.
“We don’t have to play by the same rules as the cops.”
“You are a cop.” She reminded him as she pushed to her feet. He’d said the same thing to her when she’d rear-ended him what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Not today.”
Wild Willie’s, Perdido Beach Boulevard
Orange Beach, 10:00 p.m.
Monday nights were ladies night. No wonder the place was packed. The dance floor was overflowing with moving bodies. Somewhere in that throng was Barbie White. If they could find her and then get her out of here without any trouble, it would be a flat-out miracle.
Julie tugged on Blake’s arm. He leaned down so she could put her lips to his ear. It was the only way to hear.
“There!”
She pointed and he spotted the bleached blonde sandwiched between two guys who were clearly hopeful the threesome would continue off the dance floor. Blake headed in that direction. Julie stopped him with another tug on his arm. He leaned down once more, bracing himself for the feel of her lips against his ear.
“You make a move for her and I’ll distract the men.”
The jealousy that had a bad habit of rearing its ugly head whenever he was near her poked him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Even in that plain pink tee and those body-hugging jeans, she was way more gorgeous than any of the other women in the place.
Rather than respond, she dove into the crowd.
“Hell.” Blake went after her.
With no choice but to follow the plan, he went for Barbie, cutting between her and the man at her back. He had his arms around her waist before she bothered to look at him. When he ushered her toward the edge of the dance floor, she finally turned in his arms and peered up at him. Recognition flared and she tried to wriggle free.
He held her tighter. “We need to talk.”
Barbie clamped her mouth shut. By the time they reached a quiet corner of the club, Julie had caught up with them.
“You,” Barbie shrieked.
“Did you kill him?” Julie demanded with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.
Barbie’s face puckered into a practiced pout. “I did not!”
“What time did you go your separate ways that night?” Blake asked before Julie could accuse the woman of murder again.
“I’ve already given my statement to the cops.” She tossed her hair. “My alibi checked out.”
Julie went toe-to-toe with her. “Now you’re going to give it to me.”
Barbie rolled her eyes. “Whatever. When we left the bar where you work,” she sneered at Julie, “we went back to his house and had sex.”
“I’m sure that took all of five minutes.” Julie folded her arms over her chest.
Blake held back his grin. “Did Austin take you home or did you spend the night at his place?”
“He took me home about midnight. He said he had to talk to you.” She looked Julie up and down. “I can’t understand why he’d bother when he had me.”
Julie reared back, anger and confusion on her face. “Why did he have to talk to me?”
Barbie lifted one bare shoulder in a shrug. “How would I know?”
“He said plenty to Julie at t
he bar,” Blake reminded the woman. “Was he planning on trying to intimidate her into signing the divorce papers?”
“Let me give you a piece of advice, handsome.” She trailed a glittery gold nail down his shirtfront. “You can’t win this war.”
“This is a homicide investigation, Miss White.” Next to him, tension whipped through Julie’s body but she held her tongue. “We’re trying to find the truth,” Blake urged. “We think you can help us do that.”
Barbie glanced around. “You think the cops want the truth?” She shook her head. “This isn’t about the truth. It never is when the Barton name is involved.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Julie demanded.
Another dramatic eye roll ensued. “Did you never listen to your man?”
Julie stuck her face in the other woman’s. Blake wondered for a second if he’d have to pull the two apart.
“Why was he coming to talk to me?”
“All I know is he got a call from his brother. Randall was pissed. He told Austin he’d better take care of the situation right then. Austin took me home so he could go see you.” Barbie’s face puckered again. “You killed him.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Julie snapped.
Barbie waved her off. “The police think you did and that’s all that matters.”
“Randall sent Austin to Julie’s apartment, is that what you’re saying?” Blake asked.
“All I know is what Austin said.”
“Is that what you told the police?” Blake pressed. No wonder Cannon considered Julie a suspect in spite of numerous statements proving Julie was at the bar at the time Austin was murdered.
“Damn straight,” Barbie confirmed.
Julie turned to him. “Then why are they trying to blame this on me? I wasn’t even home until after two.”
She was right, no matter that the police were currently ignoring that glaring fact. According to his partner, the M.E. had established time of death as between one and two a.m. “It had to be Randall,” Blake warned. This time she didn’t argue.
Barbie laughed. “You think the police would dare accuse a Barton of murder? Where have you two been? Don’t you know the Bartons own this county?”
With that profound announcement, Barbie headed back into the crowd of dancers, her hips swinging in time with the music.
“You were right.” Julie looked up at Blake. Her eyes were wide with defeat. “Randall set me up.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Midnight
Julie had never felt so alone in her life.
How could she have been fooled so badly?
It was bad enough to learn her husband had been lying and cheating basically during their entire marriage. She’d chalked up his behavior to his being a total bastard. But to learn she’d also been fooled by his brother? A man she’d thought was kind and generous. How could she have been so very wrong?
She glanced at the man driving as he made the last turn that would take them back to the cottage. Could the police really be involved in this cover up, too? Had Randall killed Blake’s brother?
Dear God. What kind of monsters had she been surrounded by?
As soon as Blake parked the car, she was out the door. She blinked back the tears as she strode toward the door. Somehow she had to make sure Randall didn’t get away with this. No man should be above the law.
Blake opened the door for her and she went inside. As he turned on lights, she walked out to the screened porch that looked over the water. It was so quiet here. Quiet and peaceful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt at peace with her life. Maybe before her parents died. She should call Marie and make sure she was okay. Her heart still ached for the loss of her friend’s home. How could she feel such grief for her friend’s things and not feel any for her murdered husband?
What was wrong with her?
Maybe because he was a vile human being? Worse than she had dared to suspect.
“It’s been a tough day.”
The sound of Blake’s voice flowed over her, making her shiver with an awareness she had been trying to deny since the day she’d rear-ended his fancy sports car.
“I’m sorry the men I trusted had something to do with your brother’s murder.”
“When it happened, Luke’s partner called me.” Blake propped against the railing. “The hardest part was telling my mom.”
“Are your parents still alive?” She missed her parents so much.
“My mom is. My dad lost his battle with cancer about five years ago.”
“I lost my grandfather to cancer.” Julie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the night scents. The sweet vines flowering along the picket fence. The rich, damp earth and the murky water. She pretended not to notice the warm, subtle scent of the man next to her. He smelled fresh, the slightest hint of sweet with woodsy undertones. Manly and plain good.
Get your mind out of places where it doesn’t belong, girl. “Do you have other siblings?” She moistened her lips.
“Three sisters. How about you?”
She shook her head. “There’s only me.”
“You have your friend.”
“I do. Marie’s like a sister to me.” She could never forget that. “I hope she’s okay.”
“I’m guessing it’ll take more than losing her home to take the lady down. I get the impression she’s pretty tough.”
He was right about that. Marie was the strongest person Julie knew. “You think the shooters came back and started the fire.”
“It’s possible. They’re trying to scare you off.”
“They’re doing a stellar job.” Julie hugged herself.
“I will do all within my power to keep you safe.”
His quiet words eased the loneliness just a little. “Thank you.”
“We should get some sleep.”
She took a deep breath. “Good idea.”
They moved at the same time and ended up bumping into one another.
“Sorry,” they said in unison.
Julie laughed. “I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Well.” She smiled up at him. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
She moved and this time he waited until she’d headed for the door.
“Wait.” She hesitated and turned back.
He bumped into her again. This time the full frontal contact sent desire zinging through her veins.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“No, it was my fault.” She smoothed her hands over her hips. “Do you have a bedroom preference?”
He grinned. “I might keep the answer to that question to myself.”
More of that sweet desire sung through her. “I guess I’ll take the yellow room.”
He nodded.
“Good night.” She laughed softly, wishing with all her heart he would kiss her. “Again.”
As if he’d read her mind, he reached out and took her face in his hands. He leaned toward her slowly. She thought she might die of anticipation before his lips brushed hers. He kissed her. Soft at first, and then he deepened the kiss. She melted against him. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been kissed—much less kissed like this.
Her fingers knotted in his shirt and she wanted more.
He broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against hers. “Good night,” he whispered. “I should secure the house.”
Then he was gone.
No matter how turbulent her life was right now, she was reasonably sure she would be dreaming about that kiss for many nights to come.
Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday, June 30, 7:15 a.m.
Blake stood outside the door to her room for a whole minute before he worked up the guts to knock. When he’d rapped his knuckles against the door, he waited some more. He’d tossed and turned all night thinking about that kiss. No matter how much he’d enjoyed it—no matter how long he’d been dreaming of doing just t
hat—he owed her an apology.
Since she still hadn’t answered his knock, she was probably hoping he’d go away. She’d been through enough. She didn’t need him satisfying his own selfish desires at her expense. Giving himself grace, he’d thought he saw the same longing in her eyes. Had he misread her?
The door opened and whatever thought he might have had next vanished. She’d braided her long blond hair, making her look even younger and incredibly innocent. Instinctively, he shoved his hands into his pockets to prevent touching her. Standing here, looking at her, he was damned sure of one thing: he could not trust himself where this woman was concerned.
“Good morning,” he finally had the gumption to say.
“Good morning. I need a shower and a change of clothes.”
“There’s a small shop before you get into town. The lady sells homemade things, including clothes. We’re less likely to be spotted by anyone who might be looking for us if we stay off the beaten path.” Avoiding any place with security cameras would be the smart thing to do. Barton had endless resources. If he wanted to find Julie, it wouldn’t take him long. Blake had leased this place using his mother’s maiden name, Grant. He had hoped this time would come—the time when Barton understood an enemy had breached his perfect life. Blake doubted the step would do more than slow Barton down if he had his dogs out sniffing around.
“Makes sense. You already made coffee?”
He nodded. “There’s no cream.” He stepped aside for her to exit the bedroom.
“Black is good.”
He followed her, trying unsuccessfully not to focus on the sway of her sweet hips. She hadn’t mentioned the kiss and she didn’t seem angry with him. Maybe he’d read her right after all.
When she’d poured her coffee, she maintained a safe distance near the small dining table. He went back to the front window where he’d left his coffee on the desk. Whoever had decorated the place had been smart to place the small writing desk near the large window that overlooked the water. One of these days, he should lend the place to Lutz for a quiet writing weekend.
Julie made a satisfied sound, drawing his attention back to her. “You make good coffee, Detective.”
