by Shelly Bell
The reverend paused, shaking his head and his clasped hands. “But when Alyssa left home, she lost her way as so many of them do. She turned her back on her church, her parents, and her faith. Why? Because like Eve, she was weak. The Devil tempted her with the apple, and instead of trusting in God, she ate the fruit only to find herself banished from the Garden of Eden.”
Jaxon’s head snapped up. What kind of sermon was this?
Nick threw his hand in front of Jaxon to keep him in his seat and whispered in a firm voice, “Not now. Not in front of everyone.”
Jaxon clenched his jaw but made no move to leave his seat.
The reverend let out a raspy sigh. “In Mark, Jesus warned his disciples about the thirteen acts that would invite the Devil’s poison into our hearts.”
Thirteen. She leaned forward and caught Nick’s attention. He nodded to her, obviously having the exact same thought. Was the reverend somehow involved in Alyssa’s death?
The religious leader continued, wringing his hands dramatically like the preachers on television every Sunday morning. “And once the Devil has your heart, only true repentance will save you from an eternity in the fiery pit of Hell. We pray Alyssa found her way back to Christ in the moments before death, and we pray for her soul. Pray she repented for her sins and entered the pearly gates so we may meet again in heaven. And together we say, amen.”
The congregants shifted in their seats and murmured in hushed tones. She had the feeling everyone was a bit uncomfortable with the reverend’s sermon.
“Her parents have chosen to say a few words. As they say good-bye to their daughter at the private burial, they ask you to celebrate their daughter with a donation to the summer camp, Angelus Tredecim, and to join together in the adjoining room for tea and cookies.”
Jaxon shot to his feet and passed her to get to the aisle. She and Nick followed him out of the sanctuary, trying to catch up with him as he stormed across the church. Nick grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket.
Jaxon whirled around, his eyes shiny and dark. “They’re keeping me from the burial of my own wife.”
Nick nodded. “Legally, they can’t, but Jaxon, you don’t want to start a scene. She’s gone. It doesn’t matter if you’re there today or tomorrow or never. You’re doing something they aren’t. You’re trying to find her murderer. Nothing said in there had anything to do with the real Alyssa Deveroux. You know it and I know it. When we lock up her killer, we’ll honor her the way she would’ve wanted. I promise you that.” He wrapped his hand around Jaxon’s forearm and patted him on the back.
Jaxon jutted his chin toward the sanctuary. “I couldn’t stay in there and listen to that hypocrite. Reverend Pierce was the reason Alyssa left the church. When she was thirteen, he physically abused and molested her while she was at that summer camp. Her parents didn’t believe her. They’re the ones who shouldn’t have the right to attend her burial. Not me.”
Poor Alyssa. Understanding what it was like to have a parent fail you, Kate couldn’t help but feel a kinship with Jaxon’s deceased wife.
Looking awkward for the first time since she’d known him, Nick rocked on his feet. “Jaxon, is there any chance Alyssa was still involved with Reverend Pierce?”
“No, she hated him,” Jaxon said vehemently. “Why?”
Nick hesitated. “The number thirteen was important to Alyssa’s killer. The reverend abused her when she was thirteen, and today he spoke about the thirteen sins.”
Jaxon stared at the closed doors of the sanctuary. “And the name of the camp—Angelus Tredecim—it’s Latin for thirteen angels.”
The excitement from their lead sped through her blood. “I think the reverend is definitely a suspect.”
Nick’s momentary awkwardness disappeared, replaced by his usual confidence. “Ask around at Benediction. See if anyone knows if Alyssa and the reverend still communicated. I’ll do my own research into the great Reverend Pierce and his summer camp.”
An older black woman with graying hair approached them. “Jaxon?”
Jaxon blinked and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Mrs. Webber. What are you doing here?”
She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I heard about your wife on the news. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He hugged the woman. “How . . . how have you been?”
“There isn’t a day goes by I don’t think about Stephanie. But as the days turn into weeks and months and years, the pain and loss become as normal as breathing. You don’t stop to think about it anymore. I hope for your sake you get the answers you need.”
Who were they talking about?
Jaxon averted Kate’s gaze. “Mrs. Webber, these are my attorneys, Nick Trenton and Kate Martin.”
“Please, call me Martha,” she said, shaking Nick’s hand. She turned to Kate. “You look too young and innocent to be an attorney.”
Kate took a step back from the woman, the stench of cigarettes overpowering. “I’m actually a third-year law student interning for Mr. Trenton at Joseph and Long.”
Storm clouds darkened Martha’s eyes. “My daughter was a receptionist there. They’re good people. I’m sorry. I just . . . This is much harder than I expected.” She turned to Jaxon. “I know with your parents dead you’re all alone now. You were there for me after Stephanie, and I wanted to return the favor.”
Jaxon hung his head. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“God be with you, Jaxon.” Martha kissed his cheek and walked out of the church.
“Who was that?” Nick asked.
“My old next door neighbor. Her daughter, Stephanie, was killed about ten years ago. They never caught the murderer.”
Kate’s neck tingled. “That’s terrible. What happened?”
Jaxon’s face looked pinched as if it pained him to recall. “When the Detroit River thawed in the spring, some guy on his boat ran into what was left of her. She’d gone missing right before Christmas. They ruled it a homicide, but due to the condition of her body, they never figured out exactly what had happened to her. The police told Mrs. Webber that according to witnesses, Stephanie had gotten involved with prostitution and drugs.”
“You don’t sound convinced,” Nick said.
“The Stephanie I knew was an honor student, but the cops didn’t want to waste their time on what they suspected was a drug buy gone wrong,” Jaxon said, a hint of anger in his voice.
“Were you close with Stephanie?” she asked as they pushed open the door to the church and stepped outside.
Some of the media had left, but several crews loitered around, probably hoping to score an interview with one of the funeral attendees. They pointed their video cameras at Jaxon. She could only imagine what they’d report about him leaving the funeral early.
Jaxon appeared oblivious of the media. “She was a good kid. I liked her, and so I stayed away from her,” he said, shielding his eyes from the sun.
Nick shook his head. “That makes no sense.”
“Trust me. From where I come from, it makes complete sense.”
“Nick, did you know Stephanie?” she asked.
“No,” Nick said. He scanned the parking lot and frowned. “She must have worked there before I was hired.”
Where was their driver with the car?
Wearing oversized sunglasses and a smug smile, Rachel Dawson strolled out of the church and sidled up to them. “It was a beautiful service. Didn’t you think so, Jaxon?”
“Mr. Deveroux has no comment,” Nick said crisply.
Rachel batted her eyelashes. “What about you, Katerina? Do you have anything to share?”
Katerina.
How did Rachel know that name? Had she figured out she was Katerina Martini or did she know her as Katerina, Jax’s sub? Could Rachel Dawson be her mystery caller and the Facebook hacker?
Kate’s chest tightened, her heart pumping so fast she feared she’d pass out. Her hands trembled as she unzipped her purse for one of her pills.
“Her name is Kate,�
�� Nick said. “And she has nothing to say to you.”
Rachel shrugged. “Oh well, can’t hurt a girl for trying.” Gazing at Jaxon, a smile broke across her face. “Or maybe you can.” She laughed at her own joke and walked away, waving good-bye over her shoulder.
Her hands shaking uncontrollably, Kate tried to flick open the Tic Tac dispenser, but instead it careened to the ground, her precious pills spilling out on the dirty concrete. She fell to her knees, scrambling to pick them up. A gentle hand fell on her shoulder.
“Leave them,” Jaxon said in his low, soothing Dom voice. “You don’t need them.”
She looked up at the two men standing over her and pushed away the sting in her chest from seeing the concern in their eyes. “I do.” She dropped two in her mouth and swallowed, her head hung in shame.
Their limo pulled up, and they got inside, not speaking. She wanted to talk to Jaxon. Needed the reassurance he wasn’t disappointed in her, but he stared out the window, lost to his own guilt and pain.
On his cell phone with one of his other clients, Nick glanced back and forth between her and Jaxon. Was he suspicious of their personal relationship?
Saving Jaxon from life in prison was her primary goal, but she also had to prove to Nick her worth to the firm. That’s why they had to keep their relationship a secret, at least until they found the real killer. But even then, if Nick had to coddle her just so she didn’t suffer from a full-blown anxiety attack, he couldn’t in good conscience recommend her to the partners for associate. He’d warned her not to let her physical weaknesses interfere with her career like he had during his internship.
How could she prove he could count on her?
The limo drew nearer to her apartment. Thanks to her pills, her heart rate had returned to normal, but a lingering sense of foreboding sat heavily in her belly. Kate pressed her hand to the bruise on her neck, comforted by the mark left by Jax’s teeth.
She thought about Martha Webber and her daughter. A decade later and she still mourned Stephanie. Strange she’d never heard any gossip at Joseph and Long about the murdered girl. Maybe after a decade the gossip had grown cold along with the case. If Nick hadn’t known her, it must have happened between his internship and rehiring.
What if the media tried to tie Jaxon to Stephanie’s death? She needed to know more about the murdered girl and whether she had any connection to Jaxon other than as his neighbor.
The limo idled in front of her building. She grabbed her briefcase and purse and slid out when the driver opened her door. Nick remained on the phone, but Jaxon followed her up the stairs to her apartment.
He no longer hid the heat from his eyes. They didn’t speak as she unlocked the door and waited for him to inspect her apartment for hidden intruders. What would he say if she told him about the Facebook page?
The ripped pair of panties from earlier hung from his finger as he strode from her bedroom. “I’m taking these as a souvenir.” He backed her up into the door, grinding his massive erection against her. He buried his face in her neck. “What are you doing to me?” His tongue laved her bruise, and then he bit down on it.
Her body screamed for relief, and she moaned softly. Her sore nipples beaded, and her slick channel ached. “Please.”
“I should make you wait until tonight, but I need to feel your cunt clamp down on my fingers. I need to know you belong to me.” He unbuttoned her skirt, wrenched it and her panties down to her knees, and pushed a finger inside her, inciting small ripples in her pussy.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. No one but me gets entrance into the piece of heaven between your thighs. You’re mine, aren’t you?” He thrust a second finger into her and bit her lip. “Say it, Katerina. Who does your pussy belong to?”
“You, Jax.”
A thick finger joined the other two, packing her with his flesh. His thumb teasingly swiped across her clit. “Who does your ass belong to? Your mouth?”
Tension and heat spooled in her womb. Her thighs trembled. She wouldn’t come without permission. “You, Jax.”
His other hand slid up the back of her neck and into her hair, and his mouth descended over hers, his lips bruising and punishing as their time grew short. Against her lips, he whispered, “Who do you belong to, Katerina?”
“You, Jax.” She whimpered and panted, holding back her climax.
“Good girl. Now come for me, Katerina. Let me feel those muscles suck my fingers inside you.”
The first wave of her orgasm hit her the moment he ordered her to come. Her pussy clenched around Jax over and over, and darts of pleasure shot through her body. She slumped against him, relaxed and temporarily sated.
He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking on them and making appreciative noises in the back of his throat. “Get some rest because that was just an appetizer. Tonight, we’ll gorge ourselves on a six-course meal.” He gave her a wicked smile. “I hope you’re ready for the dungeon.”
Chapter Eleven
KATE PARKED HER motorcycle at the curb, her stomach cramping from guilt.
Maybe she should have asked Nick to come with her. Or Jaxon. Why hadn’t she asked him? Most likely there was no connection between Stephanie and Alyssa. She didn’t want to say anything until she had something concrete. Something other than a nagging suspicion.
After Jaxon had left, she’d Googled Martha Webber’s address and hopped on her baby. She had plenty of time to question the woman and get back before Jaxon arrived to take her to Benediction. If it turned out to be nothing, they’d never know she had disregarded their orders to stay off her bike and have them chaperone her.
Besides, no one was hiding in the shadows, ready to attack. No one had followed her here. She didn’t need a man to keep her safe. Whoever had threatened her wanted her to drop Jaxon’s case. There was no reason to believe he’d physically harm her.
She took a moment and examined Mrs. Webber’s corner property. Missing pieces of its white aluminum siding and a crumbling concrete porch tarnished the otherwise attractive home. Like a jail cell, metal bars covered the door.
Jaxon’s old house next door appeared well-maintained. The red brick was free of graffiti, and beautiful landscaping butted against the front edge of the home. The door still had metal bars, but they were white, giving off an inviting feel to the house.
Jaxon hadn’t shared any details about his family. Did they still live there?
She strapped her helmet around the handle bar and slid off her bike. A BMW drove past her, illuminating the dark, empty street before it turned into a driveway a few houses down. Nice car for this neighborhood.
Bypassing the broken steps, she hopped onto the porch and rang the doorbell. She heard the patter of footsteps and then the sound of locks clicking. One. Two. Three. How many did this woman have?
The solid metal door creaked open. Mrs. Webber stared at Kate through the iron bars.
She gave a little wave. “Mrs. Webber? I don’t know if you remember me, but I met you at Alyssa Deveroux’s funeral.”
The woman’s eyes were glazed, but she nodded. “You were with Jaxon.” She stood on her tippy toes and tried to look behind Kate. “Is he with you?”
“No, ma’am. It’s just me. Would you mind if I came inside and asked you a few questions?”
“Of course.” Another lock later, she opened the gated door and ushered Kate inside. “You want a drink? Tea? Water?”
“No, thank you.” A haze of smoke hung in the air. Her eyes burned, and her throat tickled. She covered her mouth and coughed. Except for the missing stench of whiskey, it was like coming home.
Mrs. Webber sat on a bright-yellow flowered chair and gestured for Kate to take a seat on the matching couch. Between them sat a brown coffee table with an overflowing ashtray and a couple of last month’s gossip magazines.
The woman lit a cigarette and took a puff. “You’re helping Jaxon, right? I don’t believe what they’re saying about him killing his wife.”
Kate sh
ifted, trying to get comfortable, but the couch’s springs were broken, causing her to tilt. “Had you ever met Alyssa?”
“Nah, but his father, bless his soul, showed me their wedding pictures. I was invited of course, but I was grieving then. Got a bit lost for a short time until Jesus Christ saved me from drowning in the bottom of a bottle. Nine years sober this Christmas.”
“Congratulations.”
Mrs. Webber tapped her cigarette on the side of the ashtray, spilling a couple butts onto the table. Frowning, she squashed one between her fingers and returned it to the ashtray, repeating the process with the other. “I don’t see how I can help you with Jaxon’s case.”
“I’m not here about Jaxon.” She scooted to the edge of the couch and said in a quiet voice, “I’d like to talk to you about your daughter, Stephanie.”
Her hands trembled as she brought the cigarette to her lips and took another drag. “What would you like to know?”
“The police thought she’d died in a drug buy gone bad. Did she give you any reason to suspect she was using drugs?”
“My Stephanie was a God-fearing child. Wanted to be a lawyer like you, only she didn’t want to do criminal. She was going to be a civil rights attorney like that guy on television who won all those million-dollar verdicts.” Mrs. Webber stamped out her cigarette between the lipstick-stained butts in the center of the ashtray, once again pushing used cigarettes and ashes to the table. “My girl was going to get us out of this neighborhood. She wouldn’t have allowed the Devil to lead her astray.”
Kate’s throat tightened. God-fearing children got high, blacked out from drinking too much alcohol, and slept with strangers all the time, but she didn’t need to shatter the poor woman’s illusions. “What do you think happened to her?”
Martha lit another cigarette. “I don’t know, but she was a beautiful girl. Someone with a demon inside him must have kidnapped and had his way with her before throwing her away like yesterday’s trash. My baby might have grown up in the ’hood, but she was never garbage. The police didn’t do nothing. Didn’t run any of those fancy tests they’d run for a white girl. Said the river had ruined the evidence, but I bet they could’ve gotten DNA off the blue rope like they do on CSI.”
