The encounter quickly turned into something intense and consuming. His tongue moistened my slightly parted lips. The kiss became demanding and I was a very willing participant. I managed to work my hands across his chest, until I felt the outline of his erect nipples beneath my palms. He responded to my action by running his hands all over my back and nibbling my lower lip. It was a purely erotic action, one that inspired great need and desire in me.
A small moan escaped my lips as I kneaded the muscles of his chest. He tasted vaguely of mint and he continued to work magic with his mouth. I felt the kiss in the pit of my stomach. What had started as a pleasant warmth had grown into a full-fledged heat emanating from my very core, fueled by the sensation of his fingers snaking up my back, entwining in my hair, and guiding my head back at a severe angle. Passion flared as he hungrily devoured first my mouth, then the tender flesh at the base of my throat. His mouth was hot, the stubble of his beard slightly abrasive. And I felt it all. I was aware of everything – the outline of his body, the almost arrogant expectation in his kiss. Liam was obviously a skilled and talented lover. Me? A compliant and demanding partner.
The controlled urgency of his need was a heady thing. It gave me the sense that I had a certain primal power over this beautiful man.
Liam made quick work of my clothes. He kissed, touched and tasted until I literally demanded sex.
It was no longer an act, it was a need. I needed Liam inside of me to feel complete.
Poised above, his brow glistening with perspiration, Liam looked down at me with smoldering, heavy eyes. He waited for me to guide him, then filled me with one long, powerful thrust.
The sights and sounds around me became a blur as the knot in my stomach wound tighter with each passing minute. It built fiercely until I felt the spasm of satisfaction begin to wrack my body. Liam groaned against my ear as his body shuddered as well.
We just relaxed and enjoyed our post-coital moment. I loved being in his arms. Maybe more than I should. But as much as I liked the protective feel of resting my head against his chest, I was afraid my mother would come back and catch me in the act.
“Lemme guess,” Liam said with humor as I rolled away from him. “Mommy?”
“Shush,” I said before planting a kiss on his lips. “I’m already drowning in sex and my mother issues. Don’t make it worse.”
I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a cami. I like the feel of yoga pants. I do not like yoga. Too many pretzel-shaped movements and besides, who can find their center with one leg twisted around the other?
I found Liam in the living room, putting the DVD in the player. “Oh hell, no,” I said.
“Don’t worry. This is a pixelated copy.”
“What?”
“I had a friend blur the background so you don’t actually see the sex.”
“Why don’t we eat dinner instead?”
He smiled at me. “Dinner and a movie?”
“Funny man,” I said sarcastically as I went to the oven and took out the piccata.
He came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist. “We could always have sex again.”
“We will. Just not tonight.”
He kissed the top of my head, then stepped back.
“Smells great. Did your mother make it?”
“My mother can make a martini.”
“So you learned your cooking skills from her?”
“I can cook,” I huffed. “I just chose not to. And you should-” My phone rang and grabbed the receiver.
“Fin?”
“What’s wrong?” I asked Becky. I’d never heard her voice shake like that.
“Can you come to Jupiter Hospital? I was in an accident.”
Sometimes a lie is the best option
Chapter Six
I left Liam in the waiting area as a nurse showed me to Becky’s exam area. When I saw her, I tilted my head to one side and let out a short breath. She had a small square of gauze high up on her hairline and some dried blood on the neckline of her dress. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “The attack of the airbag,” she said, gently exploring the bandage with her fingertips. “Four stitches and an ugly scar on my face.”
I gave her a hug. “Your hair will cover it,” I reassured her. “What happened?”
Before she could answer the curtain fluttered open and Liv and Jane came rushing in. Worry registered on their faces. Liv’s perfume replaced the scent of sterile hospital. We’d been friends for years, even though she was the most beautiful woman on the planet. She had dark hair and eyes that were an exotic shade of blue-green. Liv owned her own event planning business and was very successful. Jane was successful, too. Though she and Liv were polar opposites in the wardrobe department. Liv dripped designers while Jane tended to wear body-huggiing leather and lace. I didn’t know another accountant who looked like one of the Pussycat Dolls. Jane worked out maniacally, so she had the body to carry-off her revealing outfits without looking slutty.
“Are you okay?” Liv asked.
“Yep.”
“What happened?” I asked again.
“Some asshole cut me off on I-95 and I ended up going off the road and hitting a tree. My car is toast.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I insisted. “You can get another car. We can’t get another you.”
Always practical, Jane asked, “Was the other driver insured?”
“I have no idea. The bastard didn’t even stop.”
“Did you get a license plate?”
Becky looked at Liv. “Uh, it happened really fast.”
I asked, “So nothing?”
She shook her head again. “It was a big, dark car. That’s all I’ve got.”
My mind immediately went to the suspicious, dark car parked on my street last night. I was being crazy. The two couldn’t possibly be related. Obviously I was dangerously low on caffeine.
We stayed until Becky got her discharge papers, then agreed that it made more sense for Liv and Jane to drive Becky home since they were going in that direction. I went back out to the waiting area to reclaim Liam. He was watching the silent Marlins game on the television mounted high on the wall.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“Coupla stitches. Probably a bad headache.”
As we drove back to my place, I told Liam all about the computer back trace. “Have you ever heard the name Gerald Cavanaugh?”
“No. But he shouldn’t be hard to find. I can log into my databases from your place and we can check him out. What about the photos?” he asked.
“Four out of five. The butler’s picture isn’t there.”
“So what’s your take on Deacon?”
I shrugged. “Seems okay. He’s the kind of man my mother marries.”
“And what kind is that?”
“Rich and twenty-plus years her senior. If he doesn’t ask for a prenup, I say he’s in.”
Liam chuckled. “That’s cold.”
“That’s Cassidy. My mother is a creature of habit and she has a habit of marrying rich older men. How do you think she’s able to pay the blackmail?”
“Must be nice to have that much money to piss away.”
“I wouldn’t know. She controls the trust Jonathan left me and since I’ve inspired her ire, I’m living off what Dane-Lieberman pays me.”
“Which isn’t exactly chump change,” Liam said.
“You know my salary?”
He shrugged and took one hand off the wheel and placed it on my knee. “I have a ballpark idea.”
As we drove, I was reminded of my mother’s many questions I’d been unable to answer, so I decided now was as good a time as any to learn a little more about Liam. “Where did you go to college?”
“U of F. Why?”
“I don’t know. It just feels like you know more about me than I know about you. Family?”
“Dad’s dead. My mother lives in Ocala. I have a brother and a sister who lives in Hawaii with her husband and four
kids. What else?”
He seemed amused and I felt like a fool. I immediately banished my mother’s questions from my head. Well, there was one lingering question that had nothing to do with my mother. I wanted to know why he was still attached to his ex-wife. Such a congenial relationship in the face of divorce was just baffling to me.
“Nothing,” I said. Just then we turned onto my street. “That’s the car!” I practically yelled when I saw the dark sedan parked on the side of the road.
Liam slowed and steered the Mustang toward the back of the car. The minute he did, the car turned its headlights on and screeched forward. Liam stayed on the car’s tail.
I braced my hands on the dashboard as the car zoomed up to nearly sixty miles an hour in a thirty-five mile an hour zone. “Be careful,” I called over a pounding rush of adrenaline. We tailed the car up and down side streets until it turned on to Okeechobee and picked up speed. Liam was undeterred, sticking close to the other car.
The driver weaved in and out of traffic, which was blissfully light this time of the night. He dangerously swerved in between cars and at one point, even drove along the shoulder of the road as he neared the on ramp to I-95.
Before he could reach the exit, lights flashed, bells sounded and the safety arms at the railroad crossing started to fall.
“Got ya,” Liam said as he stayed with the erratic driver.
The car slowed to a crawl and before I could process it, the drivewr’s hand came out of the window and then I heard a succession of pops and pings. I ducked as I realized he was shooting at us.
“Stay down!” Liam yelled as he reached in front of me and retrieved a gun from his glove compartment.
For some idiotic reason I lifted my head to get a peek at the action. Liam was bobbing and weaving as he stuck his weapon out of the window to return fire. I heard another, louder series of pops and then tasted the acrid smell of gunpowder.
The other driver reacted by snaking through the railroad stop as a locomotive blared its horn. A few seconds later, a long freight train blocked the way.
“Son of a bitch,” Liam cursed.
A second later the situation got worse. Police cars came racing toward us.
“Let me do the talking,” Liam said as he switched his hold on the gun so it was hooked by the trigger, dangling from one finger and fully visible to the officers. He cut the engine.
“Driver! Throw the weapon out of the car! Let me see your hands!”
Liam cooperated fully.
“Driver, open the door with your left hand and exit the vehicle.”
Once Liam was out of the car, a large deputy came up and slammed him against the car, slapping Liam’s hands to the roof of the Mustang.
“Passenger! Let me see your hands!”
I quickly stuck my arms out the car window. Oh joy, I was going to have a mug shot in yoga pants and limp hair.
Another cruiser pulled up just as I was placed against the car and another deputy patted me down.
“Hey, McGarrity,” the newly arrived deputy greeted. He placed his nightstick back in his utility belt.
“Frank,” Liam returned.
“It’s okay,” the deputy told his comrades. “I can vouch for him.”
The deputy guarding me asked, “Are you sure, Lieutenant?”
“Yep. I’ll take care of things.”
The original officers went back to their cruiser and quickly left the scene. I walked around the car and stood next to Liam. He placed a protective arm around my shoulders. I was still shaking.
“A shoot out?” the lieutenant asked, one brow cocked.
“Road rage,” Liam answered. “The asshole shot my car.” He pointed toward a small hole in the front quarter panel.
“Did you get a plate on this asshole?”
“No. Sorry.”
“I –” Liam squeezed my shoulder. “Didn’t get it either.”
The officer shrugged. “Want to write it up?”
Liam shook his head. “Guy’s long gone. No point.”
“Pick up your weapon.”
Liam retrieved his gun from the pavement. “Thanks, Frank.”
“No problem,” he shook Liam’s hand. “Stay safe, bro.”
“You, too.”
I still had Jell-O knees when I walked back to the Mustang. As soon as Liam got into the driver’s seat I asked, “Why did you lie? I got the license plate.”
“So did I,” he said as he started the car and then made a sharp U-turn to head back to my place. “But if that was the blackmailer, we promised your mother no cops.”
“I’m okay breaking that promise,” I insisted. “I think she’s nuts for placing her trust in the hope of this being the end of it.”
When we got back to my house, the Jag, the Bentley and my Mercedes were all in the driveway. I was still shaky from the shootout at the railroad crossing. And I was even more resolute in thinking this blackmail thing was getting out of hand.
My mother and Deacon were sitting on the couch sipping wine. The very picture of bliss. Apparently Deacon didn’t know my mother was a serial bride and he had the shelf life of potato chips.
“You look dreadful,” my mother said as I walked through the door.
I described – in detail – about the car and the shooting. “Have you noticed a big dark sedan? Maybe following you?”
My mother looked at Deacon and then they both shook their heads. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But you didn’t say anything to the authorities, did you?”
“Liam wouldn’t let me,” I told her with a level gaze. “But on all seriousness, one or both of us could have been killed just so your little tape doesn’t get out.”
“Don’t be overly dramatic, Finley,” my mother said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “I’m sure Liam had the situation under control.”
Liam reached out and took the DVD off the table. He explained how the nasty parts had been scrambled and then slipped it in the player. I tensed. This was just too surreal. I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. I could hear moaning and giggling. “Can we ditch the audio?” I asked as I felt my cheeks grow warm.
Liam complied so now the picture was a blurred image framed in orange, pink and green. “Flowers?” I asked.
“That’s what I thought,” Liam said. “Who sent them to you?” he asked.
“The resort,” Deacon answered. “A courtesy because we-I stay there so often.”
I zoned out when my mother described the flowers in detail. I know roses, tulips and carnations. I didn’t want a blow-by-blow on horticulture.
“How did the flowers get into your room?” I asked.
“The butler brought them about an hour after we checked in.”
“And you didn’t notice a camera?”
My mother’s spine stiffened. “Obviously not.”
“Did the butler put them on top of the dresser, or did you?” Liam asked.
“He did,” my mother replied. “I had every intention of moving them to the bedside table but then we got . . .”
Dear God please don’t finish that statement. “Does the name Gerald Cavanaugh mean anything to either of you?”
They shared a look. “No,” they said in unison.
My mother stood and brushed the front of her raw silk skirt. “Can you turn that off now, please?”
Liam did as asked. Then he turned to me and asked, “Where’s your laptop?”
“Bedroom.” I quickly went and retrieved the computer and brought it back to the living room.
Deacon and my mother were holding hands and moving away from the sofa. “Where are you going?”
“Just getting out of your hair so you and Liam can do whatever it is you do.” My mother glided past me and of course, all I could think about was the two of them defiling my guestroom. When this is over, I’m going to have to buy new sheets and a comforter. Maybe even a new mattress. I can’t have mother ya-ya in my house. Deacon looked a tad uncomfortable and didn’t seem as willing to extrac
t himself from the room. Good, at least he was taking this more seriously than my mother.
With the happy couple down the hall, Liam fired up my computer. “I can take the new note to my guy in latent prints. He works midnights. If our guy is in the system, there should be a hit on AFIS.”
He logged into the DMV database. “I can’t do that,” I said.
“I pay for a service,” he explained as he entered the shooter’s tag number in the box provided. A spinning hourglass appeared on the screen. “Give it a minute.”
“Okay.”
“Heard you were out interviewing witnesses today.”
“Did you and Tony have a chat?” I asked, a little testy.
“He mentioned it. Said you did great work.”
I shrugged. The action caused our thighs to rub. Suddenly I wasn’t thinking about license plates and trial witnesses. God, I needed to get a grip. “I found a couple of potential witnesses but who knows if they’ll come around by the time the trial happens.”
“Assuming the kid doesn’t take a plea,” Liam suggested.
“I hope he doesn’t. It sounds to me like his foster father was a violent jerk.”
“Here we go,” Liam said. “And the winner is Steven Buckner.”
“Can you get his photo?”
“Yep.” Liam switched screens and pulled up Buckner’s driver’s license photo.
“Tall,” I looked at his photo and also read his vitals as well. Dark blonde hair. Blue eyes. Thin. Sounds a lot like the butler my mother described.”
“Go get her. Have her look at the photo and-”
“I’m not going to get her. I have no idea what they’re doing but I don’t want to think about it, let alone interrupt it.”
“I’ll knock,” he said, then went down the hall.
Deacon came out first, then my mother emerged a few minutes later. Every hair was in place and if it hadn’t been for her smeared lipstick, I would have sworn they were playing checkers.
Liam showed them the DMV photo. “Recognize him?”
“That’s our butler,” my mother said with amazement. “Liam, how did you find him?”
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