Tap Dancing with the Devil

by Faith Gibson

  Without having to be told, Adam pulled the file he’d been compiling and had it in his hand when he was approached. “Murdock, these are Agents Howard and Lawrence. They’ll be taking over the case.”

  Adam wiggled the folder in his hand. “I figured as much. Here’s all I have. You’ll need to get Neil’s from him when he gets back.”

  Agent Howard took the file. “Thank you. We’re going to need you to be available for questioning.”

  What the fuck? He just handed them most of his information. “Yeah, no problem. I want this unsub caught as much as anyone.” Probably more. Adam didn’t want anyone questioning why a thirteen-year-old article was making a reappearance. He wasn’t going to stop investigating just because the Feds had taken over. He had too much at stake, like his career. The agents and Lou walked toward the elevators speaking in hushed tones. That pissed Adam off. The suits thought their shit didn’t stink, but Adam was of a differing opinion. At one point in time, he’d considered joining the Bureau, but after the shit with Neil went down, Adam decided to stay where he was. There were a lot of things in his past he regretted, but nothing more than that one night when he let Neil talk him into covering up what really happened.

  Now that his workload had been reduced drastically, Adam was going to focus on things he could control, like meeting the security company at his home. Knowing Charlie’s alarm had been bypassed didn’t ease Adam’s mind, but having one installed couldn’t hurt. As he was walking out, Neil was walking in. “Was that the Feds I saw with Lou?” he asked.

  Adam led Neil out the door into the hallway for some privacy. “Yes. They’re taking over our case. I’ve already given them my files. By the way, Cutler called. Seems he had a visitor who left a certain newspaper article on his desk,” Adam said in a low voice.

  “Fuck. Have you found any more on Cassidy?”

  Adam shook his head. “No more than what I’ve already told you. I’m not letting my guard down where he’s concerned, though. I’m meeting the security company at my house in thirty minutes. As soon as the install is complete, I’m going to drive by his cousin’s shop and see him with my own eyes. It’s too much of a coincidence that he gets boosted at the same time the murders started.”

  “I just can’t see that pansy-assed motherfucker being responsible. How did a skinny-ass cop manage to make it thirteen years on the inside without getting shanked? Something’s not adding up here.”

  “I agree. Now that the Feds are on the case, I’ll have more free time to check on our boy. I gotta go.” Adam didn’t feel like standing around chatting about their past out in the open. The relationship he and Neil had once upon a time had waned to nearly nonexistent. After this case was closed, Adam was going to look at transferring to another precinct. He needed to get away from all things to do with the Perrys, and that included The Hollows.

  It took the installers longer than expected to get the alarm hooked up. Some of the electrical needed to be updated, and the fiber optic wiring for the system Adam had chosen had to be replaced as well. By the time it was complete, it was well after the time Cassidy would have gone home from work. Adam wasn’t in the mood to sit around and wait for Lexie to get home and cook for him since this was her late night at work, so he decided to head to an old hangout and have a few drinks where he could enjoy the scenery.

  It had been several years since Adam had been to a strip club, but he wanted to unwind and forget about shit for a while. He ran a bigger risk of being seen in the classier club, but he wasn’t in the mood for skank. He’d never been in the mood for skank, unlike his partner. Neil’s tastes in women and what he liked in the bedroom meant there wasn’t much of a chance they would run into one another.

  Nothing had changed since the last time Adam was in Wild Cats. Mirrors lined the walls behind the bars. The stage in the middle of the room showcased lithe strippers who knew how to work a pole in more ways than one. No sooner than Adam had sat down did one of those strippers make her way to him. Tiffany. His favorite lap dance was strutting his way.

  “I thought that was you,” she said as she slid onto his lap.

  “Tiff, I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  “And I can’t believe you haven’t been to see me in, what’s it been? Three years?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?” Tiffany asked as she hovered over his thighs, moving sensuously to the music.

  “Of course.”

  Tiffany was the star of Wild Cats. She had her own dressing room, but she was good to the other girls, so there was no animosity. At least that’s how it was the last time he visited. When she got the attention of one of the waitresses, she told the girl, “Starla, please bring us two double Jacks, neat.”

  “You’re joining me? What’s the occasion?”

  “You are.” Tiffany’s face was serious as she continued moving seductively. Adam knew the rules about touching, but fuck if she wasn’t making it hard to keep his hands to himself. That wasn’t all she was making hard. With her slender body and her nice tits, Adam was ready to take this show somewhere more private. Starla returned with their liquor, and Tiffany thanked the girl as she took the glasses from her. “Let’s go to the back,” Tiffany suggested when she backed off Adam’s lap, handing him his glass.

  Adam followed closely behind, not missing the looks the woman was getting from every man in the room. Three years later, and Tiffany was still every man’s wet dream. And here he was, the lucky bastard who was being invited to the back room. Instead of going to the small, dark room they had the last time he was there, Tiffany led Adam into a much larger area. It was more like an office than a private showing room. “Wait here, I’ll be right back,” she instructed as she retreated into a door on the far side of the room, closing it behind her. Adam stared after her, trying to figure out what she was up to.

  Within a few minutes, Tiffany returned. Her glass was gone, and she’d changed into something even skimpier than what she’d previously been wearing. The lingerie left little to the imagination, but Adam had already seen everything she had to offer. He didn’t have to imagine how her tits felt in his hands or how her cunt tasted on his tongue. This bitch was the perfect fuck, and his dick was pressing against his zipper to be turned loose. She closed the door behind her, walked over to a cabinet and turned on some music. Adam downed his whiskey so his hands would be free to touch the seductress when she finally danced her way to where he was waiting.

  Tiffany stopped in front of Adam, swaying her hips as she unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed it down his arms, but left it hanging around his waist, effectively keeping his hands secure. She kissed her way down his neck, across his chest, teasing both his nipples. She trailed her tongue down his stomach as she dropped to her knees. Tiffany made slow work of getting his hard-on free from his pants. He was so goddamn hard he was ready to pound fucking nails, and she was taking her sweet fucking time in getting him where he wanted to be.

  Dragging his pants and underwear down his legs to rest above his shoes, Adam’s legs were now secure as well, making him as vulnerable as he’d ever been with a woman. Instead of taking him in her mouth, Tiffany stood and circled around behind Adam, never taking her hands off his skin. Raking her nails over his flesh, she dug in, leaving red marks. He wasn’t into the pain game, but fuck if that didn’t have his dick leaking even more than it already had been.

  Tiffany knelt down behind Adam, nipping at his ass as she slid a hand between his legs, rolling his nuts while she teased the seam of his crack with the other. “Tiffany,” he warned. Nobody had ever gone near his hole, and he wasn’t ready for her to, no matter how hot she was. Seeming to get the message, Tiffany crawled on all fours until she was on the floor in front of him. Keeping with the rhythm of the song, she ran her hands the length of his legs until she was face to cock. Fisting his, she circled the wet tip with her tongue before sucking him all the way down. Adam bucked into her face. “Goddamn, that feels good.”

&
nbsp; Tiffany sucked and slurped at his dick like a kid lapping up a melting Popsicle on a hot day. She was good at giving head, but he wanted her pussy. “Tiffany, please, baby. Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours. I’ve missed it.” She looked up at him from her knees and gave him a wink before pulling off his dick. When she stood, Tiffany removed Adam’s shirt, and he put his hands to her waist, lifting her so she could wrap her long legs around his hips. He should have been concerned about fucking this bitch raw, but he was so far gone he didn’t worry about a condom.

  Standing in the middle of the room, Adam impaled the stripper with his prick. He had to use the strength in his legs to keep them upright, but somehow he managed. Her powerful thighs tightened around his waist as she used her core muscles to ride him. Her tits were bouncing up and down each time he bottomed out inside. Tiffany threw her head back as her pussy clamped down around him. That extra squeeze was all he needed for his orgasm to reach its peak.

  As soon as he put Tiffany on her feet, she headed to the far side of the room and disappeared through the same door she had earlier. When she came back out, she was dressed in street clothes. Adam stared as she walked to the cabinet and turned off the music. She sat down behind the desk and motioned toward the door. “You can show yourself out.”

  “Excuse me?” Adam was dressed, but he was expecting a little small talk before he was dismissed. At least another drink.

  Tiffany appeared bored as she sighed. “You got what you came for, and I have work to do. I’m the manager now, and paperwork doesn’t do itself.” Tiffany began shuffling through the stack of papers on her desk, clearly done with him. Fucking hell. So that’s what women felt like when men did that shit to them. Adam straightened his shoulders and walked out of the office with what little pride he had left intact. He was no longer in the mood to drink or stare at tits while doing so.

  Chapter 21

  Lexie

  When I pull into the driveway of my parents’ home, the home I grew up in, I get choked up. I have so many good memories. As an only child, I was spoiled rotten. I admit it. Mom put me in frilly dresses, but I got them dirty as soon as I stepped out the door to do things with my dad. Being the only child, and being a girl, I was my father’s tomboy. Mom finally gave up on the dresses. I tossed baseball with my father. He taught me how to change the oil in my car as well as a flat tire. My mother taught me how to cook and how to act like a lady even with dirt on my face. Life lessons that every kid should know I learned from these two people. I always planned on passing down those lessons to my own children.

  If it wasn’t for the garage door being open and Dad tinkering under the hood of the Chevelle, I would probably have sat in my car and sobbed for hours. Instead, I swipe at the few tears that have leaked out, and I put on my best smile. It isn’t that much of a hardship considering I get to go for a ride in Dad’s car. He already promised when I called to tell them I was coming to visit.

  The ’66 is Butternut Yellow, my favorite color. The soft color is deceitful. There’s nothing soft about this car. It’s all hard lines and powerful horses. Seeing me, Dad reaches in the open window and starts the motor. The rumble does things to my girly parts. I can’t help but grin as my father pulls me into a bear hug. God, how I’ve missed him. He’s the only man in my life I’ve ever been able to count on. If things were different, I’d be living in Beaumont where I could feel his arms around me every day. Not a few times a year.

  “Hey, sugar bean. You’re looking a little rough around the edges,” he says in his Texas drawl. Dad never was one to pull any punches.

  I scrunch my nose and tell him, “Yeah? Well I know the perfect remedy for that.” I’m insinuating a ride in the Chevy, tipping my head toward the car, but deep down, I’m thinking a divorce. I can’t tell him that. He’d be at my house packing my things this afternoon. Dad doesn’t like Adam. He’s cordial whenever they’re around each other, but that’s it. Did I say my father is a good judge of character? Too bad I didn’t listen to him when he told me to think long and hard about marrying a cop. I think he was warning me more about the man than the uniform. Either way, he knew what he was talking about.

  My mom’s squeal sounds above the rumble of the motor, and I brace myself for impact. Before I’ve turned around all the way, my mom is pulling me away from my father. I laugh as she hugs me tighter than he did. I hold onto the woman who gave me so much more than just bringing me into this world. She was my rock and my best friend my whole life. Until I married Adam. She’s still my rock. I don’t tell her the way my life has turned out, although I can hear it in her voice when we talk – she knows. She might not know the dirty details, but my mother is aware that I’m not happy. Both my parents love me the way a child should be loved – unconditionally. They would move heaven and earth for me. They would go up against Adam Murdock and the whole Houston PD if they knew how badly he treated me. It’s why they can never know.

  “Alexa Grace Martin…”

  Uh-oh. When she pulls out the full name, I know I’m in trouble. Never in the twenty years I’ve been married has she referred to me as Lexie Murdock. I’m still Alexa Martin to her. “Stacey Grace Martin,” I throw back at her. Yes, I sass my mother.

  “Don’t you sass me, young lady. How much weight have you lost? Jesus, Wayne, would you look at her? She’s skin and bones. You get yourself in this house and let me feed you.” As much as I want to go for a ride, I know that’s not going to happen until Mom is satisfied with the amount of calories she makes me ingest.

  “What did you fix?” I ask, avoiding the subject of my weight. I’ve lost a good fifteen pounds since the last time she saw me, but I don’t tell her that.

  “Your favorites, of course. And you’re lucky there’s any left. Your father has been picking at everything for the last half hour,” she says as I follow her into the kitchen. The scent of roast beef hits my nose, and my mouth waters. I’m a good cook, but my mother is the best. I don’t have to look at the stove to know there’s also fried corn, mashed potatoes, fried okra, green beans, and cornbread.

  Dad turns the motor off and closes the hood. Once inside, he washes his hands at the kitchen sink. “I can’t help it if you’re a good cook,” he says, giving my mother his best smile. Mom swats him on the butt as she walks past to the refrigerator, where she pulls out a jug of sweet tea. Sliced tomatoes and onion are in the middle of the table. As soon as my dad’s done, I wash my hands before pulling the plates out of the cabinet. Unlike other homes I visited when I was growing up, Dad waits until Mom and I have our plates fixed before helping himself. Never once have I seen him ask my mother to wait on him. Sure, she does anyway, but that’s on her. That’s the way she is. He appreciates it, but doesn’t expect it.

  I tried to follow suit when Adam and I were married, but he did expect it. Maybe it was my fault for trying to be my mother. Trying to be the good and faithful woman who tried to make sure her husband was taken care of. Instead of appreciating everything I did, he demanded what he thought was his due as the man of the house. I don’t know how Adam was raised. I’ve never met his parents. All I know, and this is because Neil told Amanda who, in turn, told me, is Adam grew up in a trailer park. His father was in and out of his life, only coming around when he wanted money. He never mentioned his mother, at least, not to me.

  I asked about his parents when we were planning the wedding. Adam told me he had no parents and to leave it at that. So, I left it at that, but it didn’t stop me from wondering. Maybe they were the reason he got a vasectomy. Maybe he didn’t want to add more Murdock genes to the world.

  Maybe he had been right.

  While we eat, I keep the conversation away from me. I beg my parents to tell me what has been going on in their lives. It’s cute the way they tell me what the other person has been doing instead of talking about themselves. They finish each other’s sentences and laugh when they do. They smile at each other. They touch each other without realizing it. While I have missed them both something fierce
, it also hurts my heart watching the love they have shine through, after forty-two years of marriage. This is what a marriage is supposed to be.

  Once we’ve cleaned our plates, my mother pulls a strawberry shortcake out of the fridge. I’m stuffed to the gills, but I still eat every bite of the huge slab she puts in front of me, making myself miserable. I don’t bake cakes at home. Adam doesn’t eat sweets, and it’s a waste to make something for one person. When we’ve all finished gorging, my mom tells me, “You and your father go for that ride. I’ll take care of the kitchen.”

  “Mom, I have time.”

  “No. I’ve got this.” She pats my hand before “shooing” us both out the door.

  “You know better than to argue with her,” Dad teases. But he’s right. My mother has the last say and always has. Not that my father is a push-over. He knows when my mother makes up her mind that there’s no arguing. Growing up, I learned all about compromise. Whenever there were decisions to be made, the two of them would sit down at the kitchen table and talk things out. Both would give the pros and cons, and together, they would decide the best course of action. I’ve never heard them fight. Oh, I’ve heard them disagree, but never with raised voices. I thought that’s the way things would be with Adam and me.

  I was wrong.

  “Grab your purse,” Dad says before we make it out the door. I don’t think anything about it until we get to the garage and he hands me the keys. “You drive.”

  “What?” In all the years he’s had this car, not once has he offered to let me take the wheel. “Are you serious?” I ask while grabbing the keys and sliding into the driver’s seat. I’m not going to let him think too long about his decision. I start the engine and caress the steering wheel, letting the vibrations from the big block seep into my soul through my hands. After we’ve both buckled the lap belts, I shift into drive and roll to the edge of the driveway.