Stone (Stone Cold Fox Trilogy #1)

by Max Monroe

  We were out the door and inside his cruiser a few minutes later. With a turn of a key, the engine roared to life and we were off, heading out of the parking lot and roaming the currently action-less city streets of Cold.

  There wasn’t much to see, or do, for that matter, but I tried to make the best of it by mentally calculating how to steer a conversation toward Levi without making it too obvious.

  A few minutes into our drive, he glanced toward me out of his periphery, and the biggest smile consumed his face. “I can’t believe I’m driving famous Ivy Stone around Cold, Montana in my cruiser today.” He looked at me once more before gently flexing his fingers against the leather of the steering wheel. “I am one lucky son of a bitch.”

  “No way.” I waggled my index finger at him. “I’m the lucky one today.”

  He chuckled, and his cheeks flushed a little at my words. “Drop-dead gorgeous and a sweet-talker, you’re a dangerous woman, Ivy.”

  God, he was adorable. And, if I was being honest, pretty damn hot.

  Not only did he have that boy-next-door look, but underneath his police uniform, it appeared he also had a pretty damn good body.

  I knew for a fact that I wasn’t the only one inside this small town who had come to that conclusion, though. Dane Marx was quite the ladies’ man. The last and only time I was at Ruby Jane’s, I’d managed to catch a glimpse of him in all of his smooth-talking, charming glory.

  “Like you should talk. I’ve seen you in action before, you know.”

  “In action?”

  “Uh-huh.” I grinned. “Ruby Jane’s about a week ago. You were sitting near the pool tables in the back surrounded by a bunch of women who were batting their eyelashes and giggling at anything and everything you said.”

  A soft chuckle left his full lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Liar. Liar. Pants on fire.

  It was my turn to laugh. “Unless you’ve got a doppelgänger in this small town, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  My mind, the devious fucking thing, decided now was a good time to compare the way the women of Cold responded to Dane versus Levi.

  Dane was charming, always smiling, and the women who had flocked around him at the bar had looked like they were at ease in his presence, nothing more on their agenda than laughing and having a good time.

  Levi Fox was a whole different animal.

  Brooding and moody with a face that gave nothing away, he was an enigma. But, God, I’d seen the way the women at Ruby Jane’s had looked at him with erotic interest. It was like he was the James Dean to their quest to find a bad boy to take to bed.

  Even the ones who’d been chatting up Dane couldn’t stop themselves from glancing in Levi’s direction. While he’d drunk himself into a stupor, the interest and intrigue shining within their eyes had only grown. A tortured man held a power over the part of a woman that wanted to heal hurts—the innate drive to nurture.

  Yeah, and you’re no different…

  I shook off that thought and focused back on Dane. He smirked softly as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes.

  “It was just a few friends,” he said, referring to the very women who’d been swooning over him.

  “A few friends who all happened to be of the female variety.”

  “Mere coincidence.” He chuckled softly again.

  “Sure, it was.”

  He smirked and shrugged his shoulders, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road this time.

  “So, tell me, Officer Marx, how long have you been charming the ladies in Cold, Montana?”

  “If you’re wondering how long I’ve lived here,” he responded, a sly grin reaching his firm cheekbones, “I’m a Cold native. Born and raised here.”

  “So, you were here when everything with the Cold-Hearted Killer went down?”

  “When the first girl went missing, I was still living at home while taking Criminal Justice courses at Montana Tech. But I wasn’t here when…” He trailed off for a moment, and I had a feeling his silent thoughts revolved around Grace’s death. “I had just started the Police Academy when everything went down,” he added.

  “Were you close with anyone involved?”

  He nodded, but his voice was otherwise silent.

  “I’m so sorry, Dane.”

  “Me too.”

  The car grew quiet, and I gave him his space. Obviously, I wanted as much information as he was willing to give, but I wasn’t going to be a pushy, insensitive bitch about it. I understood the tragic events that had led to Grace’s death had left quite the scar on the entire Cold community.

  “I knew nearly everyone involved,” he stated, breaking the silence with his quiet yet firm voice. “The victims, two of the girls, I went to high school with, and I knew Grace Murphy. Hell, I even knew Dr. Gaskins. He’d been my family’s physician since I was a little boy.”

  “I still can’t believe a man everyone trusted, essentially the entire town’s doctor, ended up being the Cold-Hearted Killer.”

  A humorless laugh left his lips. “Don’t forget, he was also our coroner at the time.”

  Immediately, my mind flashed back to the script.

  INT: Cold Police Station, two days after the bodies of Carly Best and Victoria Carson are discovered. Grace walks into Chief Pulse’s office.

  GRACE

  Have we received the autopsy reports yet, Chief?

  CHIEF PULSE

  Dr. Gaskins said to be patient. It might take seventy-two hours before we hear anything.

  GRACE

  Patient? He wants me to be fucking patient? Two of our girls are dead. I won’t be patient until I figure out who did this.

  Nausea clenched my gut. Not only had the serial killer been a trusted member of the community, he’d been the one examining the bodies of his own fucking victims.

  “That’s probably one of the most disturbing details of the case.” Supposedly at peace, when in reality, they were actually still vulnerable.

  “Yeah.” Dane nodded in agreement. “The most twisted irony of all, the entire city voted him into that position, practically unanimously, about a year before he went on a goddamn killing spree.”

  “That is so fucked up.”

  “I guess that’s why Hollywood decided they needed to make a movie about it, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I shrugged nonchalantly, but on the inside, I felt like vomiting.

  I felt nauseous for the women he’d murdered and then violated again while doing a goddamn autopsy on their bodies. I felt sad for the victims’ families who’d lost their loved ones too soon. I felt sad for Grace and her family. I felt sad for the entire community of Cold. Even though it’d happened nearly six years ago, that tragedy had left a permanent wound. Their trust had been compromised.

  And, like a train cycling back into the station, I once again felt sad for Levi.

  I mean, I hated that getting him to talk to me about Grace felt harder than attempting a root canal on a drunk monkey, but at the same time, the more information I learned about the case, the more I understood this was fragile territory for everyone involved.

  “Levi and Grace had known each other since they were kids,” Dane said as he took a right at a stoplight that switched to green. “There were thick as thieves. And if I’d been Levi, I would’ve been tempted to quit the force and retire my badge. Lord knows he has enough money to live off of for the rest of his life.”

  I quirked my brow, and Dane glanced out of his periphery to find my confused expression.

  “You don’t know anything about Levi or his family?”

  “Um, no.” I shook my head. “It’s safe to say our interactions are purely business-related. Anything we’ve discussed has mostly been about Grace and what happened with the Cold-Hearted Killer.”

  More lies. Soon, I feared my nose would start growing.

  Levi still hadn’t told me any-fucking-thing, but Dane didn’t need to know that. Deep down, I ha
ted lying to him, but I also needed him to keep talking.

  “Levi’s father owned half the damn town before he passed away two years ago,” he said and pulled the cruiser to a stop at a red light. “Levi sold most of the land and the businesses back to the town for dirt-cheap prices, but it didn’t matter. His inheritance is basically enough to buy Cold, Montana three times over and still have money left over. Hell, besides land, the only thing the Fox family still technically owns is Ruby Jane’s, but…” He trailed off before adding an explanation.

  My mind flicked back to the script.

  INT: Walter Gaskins, sitting at the bar inside Ruby Jane’s, drinking a beer, while people around him drink and chat. He notices two young lovers kissing at the back of the bar, and his fist clenches around his beer. The bartender, Lou, stops in front of him with a smile.

  LOU

  Thanks for fitting Celia in the other day, Doc.

  WALTER

  [nods]

  Is she feeling better?

  LOU

  [flips a bar towel over his shoulder and smiles]

  Yep. Tomorrow night, we’ll be celebrating her being five years cancer-free.

  WALTER

  I’m glad for you guys, Lou. And I know, if Betty were still alive, she’d be celebrating with you.

  LOU

  [frowns over the memories of Walter’s late wife, Betty]

  Celia loved Betty like a sister. You know if you ever need anything, you just give us a call.

  WALTER

  Thanks, Lou. Means a lot.

  LOU

  [leans closer]

  So, any news on the autopsy reports on Carly and Victoria?

  WALTER

  [laughs softly]

  C’mon, Lou. You know I can’t give you any of that information until Chief Pulse releases it to the public.

  “Anyway,” Dane said, pulling me from my thoughts. “It’s safe to say Levi isn’t a cop for the money.”

  I glanced at him and nodded, but my mind started spinning again with new questions.

  For one, why was Levi still a cop?

  I mean, he never seemed happy, that was for fucking sure. And according to Dane, Levi had more money than he knew what to do with.

  Not only did his many moods give me whiplash, even the small tidbits about his life did.

  I wanted to ask Dane more questions about Levi. For starters, was he a dick to everyone, or was it just me? Yeah, that question was definitely at the top of my list.

  But the police radio crackled to life. “Officer Marx, are you ready to roll yet?”

  Dane responded. “I’m ready, Dispatch.”

  “We have a possible burglary call from an eighty-five-year-old female located at 77 Lily Drive. 7-7 Lily Drive.”

  “10-4, Dispatch. I’m en route. ETA three minutes.” Dane flipped on his lights and sirens and did a U-turn in the road, switching directions and heading southbound on one of the main roads within Cold.

  “Hold on tight, Ivy,” he said. “It might get a little bumpy.”

  I nodded and reached for the “oh shit” handle to steady myself.

  Dane weaved us in and out of traffic, and once our tires hit snow-covered back roads, he flipped off his lights and sirens. Another minute or two, and he took a left onto a dirt road with a hand-painted sign that read Lily Drive.

  Once he pulled the car to a stop in front of a small white house with beige shutters, he switched the engine off and hopped out of the driver’s seat. Before shutting the door, he added, “Stay put, Ivy.”

  This time, I stayed inside and watched from the passenger seat as Dane walked in the direction of the house. He reached his fingers toward his belt, unclipped the stop snap of his holster, and left his right hand resting at the top of his gun.

  Before Dane reached the front door of the house, another cruiser pulled up.

  When Levi hopped out of the driver’s seat, the word fuck fell from my lips on a mutter. I had the insane urge to slide beneath the dashboard so he couldn’t see me, but it was too late. Our eyes locked as he walked in front of Dane’s cruiser, and a scowl turned his lips down at the corners.

  Oh, shit. He does not look happy.

  Fucking Ivy Stone.

  Everywhere I looked, everywhere I went, it felt like she was there. And now, she’d somehow managed to convince Dane to tote her Hollywood ass around Cold today.

  The impulse to drag her out of his cruiser and toss her into mine that fucking instant was damn near overpowering, but I fought the urge and focused on the task at hand: a possible burglary call at Poppy Munn’s house. I could drag Ivy’s entitled ass all the way home when I was done.

  Knowing Poppy’s history of making frequent 9-1-1 calls over anything and everything, I wasn’t on high alert. But a good police officer never assumed anything.

  I walked toward the front porch where Dane stood talking to the eighty-five-year-old owner of the house.

  “What’s going on, Ms. Munn?” I asked as I closed the distance between us.

  “It’s okay, Levi,” she called back, her arms gesturing wildly beneath her pink housecoat. Strands of her gray hair fell out of the messy knot on top of her head and into her eyes. She blew them away with an exaggerated breath.

  I stepped onto the worn, wooden steps of the front porch, and Dane grinned at me over his shoulder.

  “She heard some rustling outside and got scared.” He nodded toward the two garbage cans sitting on the blacktop of her driveway. Both had been flipped to their sides, and trash remnants scattered the ground around them. “But it appears it was just a few coons digging through her trash.”

  Considering I’d yet to see an actual emergency occur at sweet old Poppy’s house in the approximately one hundred trips I’d made out there, I wasn’t surprised.

  “I’m so sorry, boys,” she apologized, and the crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled. “I just got spooked again from those damn raccoons wanderin’ around my house. Those little bastards think they have free rein over my trash cans.” She twisted her mouth into a half frown, and immediately, Dane stepped in to reassure her.

  “It’s okay, Ms. Munn,” he said, affection softening his voice.

  She looked down at her feet and tapped her black velvet house shoes against the wooden porch stoop. “I guess I probably should’ve called animal control instead of 9-1-1, huh?”

  Animal control in Cold, Montana consisted of a man named Butch with one lone pickup truck. His retirement from the job was ten years overdue, and he had about a fifteen percent follow-through rate on calls. The odds of his handling her raccoon situation were slim-to-none. She’d probably have a better shot at the coons finding another person’s garbage to fixate on.

  I offered a soft smile. “We’d rather you call us and it not be an emergency, than you not call us and something bad happen.”

  She nodded, but her gaze stayed fixated on her slippers.

  “Our priority is to make sure you feel safe, Ms. Munn.” I reached out my hand and gently patted her small shoulder. “Never forget that, okay?”

  “Okay,” she answered quietly. “Can I get you boys anything to eat or drink for your trouble?” she asked, and her hopeful gaze lifted from the ground and back to us. “I just put a pot of vegetable soup on the stove. Should be ready in about thirty minutes or so.”

  “You’re a sweetheart, Ms. Munn, but I’m going to have to pass,” I said, and she smiled, the remnants of her embarrassment still coloring her cheeks. “Now, go on inside and enjoy your lunch, but let Officer Marx take a quick look around just to be sure everything’s all right.”

  Dane looked at me with confusion in his eyes, but he followed my order and walked inside Poppy’s house. The screen door shut behind him with a creak and a clank, and I didn’t think twice about my next destination.

  Off the porch and down the driveway, I strode toward Dane’s cruiser where Ivy sat in the passenger seat. Just seeing her sitting there, looking back at me as I moved toward her, was enough to damn near
put me over the edge.

  This woman had some fucking nerve.

  Even though she was involved in some big Hollywood film, she was not entitled to anything related to my police department, including a ride along with a rookie cop. One she certainly had zero permission for.

  With my hands clenched around the handle, I pulled open the door and glared down at her. “Get out of the car, Ivy,” I spat.

  “No,” she snapped back, her voice equal parts confused and irritated.

  “You can’t just walk into a police department and think you can do whatever the fuck you want without getting permission,” I stated firmly. “We both know you’re not supposed to be with Marx. Not you or anyone on your fucking film production received any kind of approval for this. Get out of the car. Now.”

  “And what exactly am I supposed to do, Officer Fox?” Her green eyes darkened three shades, and anger dripped from each word. “Walk home in ten-degree weather?”

  God, this woman was a pain in my ass.

  “Get out of the car, Ivy,” I said for the third fucking time. “You’re with me. I’m driving you home.”

  “Oh, that’s real rich.” A sarcastic laugh left her full, pink lips, and I hated myself for how much I enjoyed watching them move. “The only reason I’m with Officer Marx is because you won’t let me do my job. Which, we both know, me and my fucking film production did receive approval for.”

  “What’s going on?” Dane asked, taking both Ivy and me by surprise.

  I had been so damn focused on her that I hadn’t even noticed his arrival.

  “Everything okay?” he reworded his question when silence consumed the space between the three of us.

  “I don’t know what she’s told you, but she isn’t supposed to be riding along with anyone besides me,” I said. “And that’s a direct order from the chief.”

  He looked between the two of us, misunderstanding furrowing the lines of his brow. “I thought—” He started to respond, but Ivy’s voice stopped him before he could get started.