“Now can I hear about those fantasies?” he asked.
“They’re sort of show more than tell.”
“Show me.”
I reached up and traced the line of his jaw with my fingertips, trailing them over his lips before I pulled his head down and kissed him. He moved his mouth to my throat, his tongue leaving a trail to the hollow, where my pulse threatened to pound right through my skin. He paused there, then planted a line of soft kisses along my collarbone to my shoulder, pushing the strap on my dress out of the way. My fingers curled into his hair and I closed my eyes as everything but Joey disappeared from my radar. He rested one hand alongside my head, pushing himself up easily and staring at me as though he wanted to memorize every freckle. I took a hitching breath. No one had ever looked at me quite that way.
“You know,” he said, trailing the fingertips of his other hand in loose patterns on my shoulder, “you’re not the only one with fantasies.”
Holy Manolos.
“Good to know,” I whispered, reaching up to flick open the buttons on his shirt. I worked the Windsor knot out of his tie and threw it, pushing the shirt open and running my fingers over the smooth skin underneath. I knew he was gorgeous, but the rock-hard lines under my fingers said he was in great shape, too.
“You want to know mine?” I pulled his shirt free of the waistband of his pants and pushed it back over his arms. He took it off and tossed it onto the chaise, and the way his muscles worked for the simple motions made my pulse pick up more steam.
“I’m waiting.” He leaned over me. I propped myself up on my elbows and kissed him, sliding my tongue over his. He put one hand on the nape of my neck, then moved it down, unzipping my dress in a single motion. I wriggled my arms free and fell back into the pillows, but he stayed with me, never breaking the kiss.
“It sort of starts with you carrying me to bed,” I whispered against his lips.
“I heard that part,” he said, raising his head a touch and brushing one hand over the black satin of my bra. “But my fantasy starts with you asking me to.”
“Consider yourself asked.”
His chest jumped under my fingers with a sharp breath, and he lowered his lips back to mine. I lost myself in the kiss, sliding my hands to his bare shoulders. I moved my lips along the roughness of his jaw, pausing to swipe my tongue over his earlobe. The sound that came from his throat told me he liked that, so I did it again. He buried his hands in my hair, his breath speeding, then twisted and dropped to one knee next to the sofa.
He kissed me again before he stood and scooped me into his arms. My whole body shuddered.
A thousand breathless dreams.
And this was really happening.
We were halfway down the hall when the doorbell rang.
Joey froze. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I dropped my forehead to his shoulder, trying to catch my breath. Pressing my lips against his skin, I murmured a string of swearwords that would make Bubba the moonshiner blush. “Go away,” I finished, bouncing my feet and turning Joey’s face toward mine. “Where were we?”
“Wondering why someone’s ringing your doorbell at twelve-thirty?” The soft look on his face dissolved into the tense lines I remembered from the parking lot.
I twisted my head toward the foyer. “Shit. You don’t think Bubba followed us, do you?”
He sighed and set me on my feet. I grabbed for my dress and slipped my arms back into it, dropping another kiss at the nape of his neck as he turned back for the front of the house.
“If there’s not a nuclear bomb in the house next door, I’m going to hate this person on principle for the rest of my days.” I zipped my dress, moving toward the door.
Joey put a hand on my elbow. “Let me.” He looked down. “I need a shirt.”
Standing back, I admired the physique that had felt so nice under my fingers a few moments before. His shoulders were broad, the muscles rising into ridges where they met his neck. His biceps were defined and impressive without being veiny and scary. The twin divots at the base of his spine that just peeked over his belt hinted at a sculpted rear end and made my pulse race again.
“I’m not convinced you should ever wear a shirt again,” I said, leaning against the wall.
He shot me a grin and ducked into the living room to retrieve his, pulling it on as he walked to the door. He peered out the trio of windows that lined the top and turned to me with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a woman. Who looks nothing like Bubba.”
What? My best friend, Jenna, was the only woman I could think of who would drop by unannounced, and if she was ringing my doorbell after midnight on a Tuesday, catastrophe was afoot. My stomach wrung as I crossed to the door.
I jerked it open to find a puffy-faced Ashton Okerson.
16.
Cause of Death
“Ashton?” I tossed a confused glance at Joey, who was leaning on the edge of the open door. He raised his eyebrows and I waved Ashton inside. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I,” she choked on the syllable, dissolving into more tears.
I put an arm around her. “Come in,” I said gently, ushering her to the sofa. I heard the latch click as Joey shut the door behind us.
I sat with Ashton, who buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed for a good five minutes. Joey stood in the doorway, a worried line running the length of his forehead. I thought about the questions I’d asked him about Tony and gambling, and felt a little sick when I considered that she might be about to tell me she did know why her son was dead.
When she finally sat up, I didn’t think her own mother would recognize her swollen face.
“What on Earth?” I asked, locking my violet eyes with her blue ones.
“The sheriff,” she spat, hauling in a deep breath and trying again. “He closed the case file. The coroner says TJ died of liver failure, and they’ve stopped looking. If they were looking in the first place. He’s having a press conference in the morning, and I just…I got in my car and I drove and drove, and I finally asked Grant to send me your address. I hope I’m not intruding.” Her eyes jumped to Joey and his half-buttoned shirt and she bit her lip. “I am. I’m so sorry.” She moved to stand up, and I put a restraining hand on her arm.
“Not at all.” I threw Joey an apologetic glance and he waved a hand, shaking his head in dismissal.
“I just didn’t know where to go.”
“Liver failure would track with a Vicodin overdose,” I said gently, my brain switching gears. Did we have it all wrong? Had TJ killed himself?
“My son did not overdose on Vicodin,” Ashton said, dropping her head into her hands and sobbing. “No one believes me. I know my baby. It’s just not…there’s no way.”
I stared, my brain rewinding through years of repressed memories to my own mother crying almost the same thing.
“I believe you,” I said.
Ashton sat up, sniffling, and I passed her a tissue box.
“Why?” she asked me.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
“This happened to someone I loved once. Someone my mom loved,” I began, glancing at Joey. Concern creased his brow and he crossed to the sofa, sitting on the arm and laying a hand on my shoulder.
“I guess it’s always been part of the reason I do what I do.” My voice cracked, and Joey’s fingers sank into my shoulder, massaging the tightening muscles there. “No one believed her, either, and I saw so many things I thought I could help. Truth to find, injustices to expose. All the noble crap I tell myself when I’m chasing a story.”
I took a shaky breath.
“Did you ever find out what happened to your friend?” Ashton asked.
“He was my mom’s fiancee,” I said. “And no. Nobody would listen. By the time my friend’s dad did, it was too late.”
“I’m so sorry. I know the feeling.”
“I’m listening,” I said, trying to smile. “Have you thought of anything else? Any other person w
ho might have wanted something bad to happen to TJ?” I studied her carefully. Her swollen eyes told me nothing was off the table, and I was out of reasons not to ask.
“Is Tony into anything he shouldn’t be? Or was he?” I asked, reaching involuntarily for Joey’s hand and lacing my fingers in his. “Gambling? Drugs? Anything that could make TJ a target for someone who’s trying to hurt y’all?”
She shook her head slowly, her face a blank mask of grief and confusion. “Tony was one of the cleanest guys in the league. His whole career, he never took anything he wasn’t prescribed. He never cheated. He’s a homebody.”
“No steroids?” My grip on Joey’s hand tightened. Forgive me. “Nothing organized crime would have a hand in?”
“Organized crime? Like The Godfather? Jesus, no. Tony would never.” No doubt crept into her raw voice as she spoke.
I leaned my head back on Joey’s chest. A soft chuckle rumbled under my ear. “That puts us back to locals. Most likely local kids,” I said. “What links TJ and Sydney, besides their relationship?”
Ashton shook her head. “They had classes together. It’s a small school, though. They all have the same teachers.”
“How long have they known each other? Y’all only moved to the island a year or so ago, right?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “They grew up together in the summers, but they didn’t start dating ’til after we moved out there.”
Oh.
“Did Sydney date anyone before TJ?” I asked, a thousand Lifetime movies playing in my head.
“I’m sure she did, but I don’t know who.”
“Luke Bosley?” The creepy cold look in his eyes haunted my thoughts.
Ashton sucked on her lower lip. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
“Can you find out?” I asked.
“I can ask Tiffany.”
I twisted my mouth to one side. “Any chance she’s still awake?” I didn’t want to be a pain, but I had no help coming from the cops and precious little to go on.
Ashton sat back. “You think someone might have killed TJ over who he was dating?”
I sighed.
“If I’m being flat honest with you, Ashton, I haven’t the first damned clue what I think. I’m doing a lot of flying blind and grasping at very thin threads. But I’ve covered a lot of murder cases in my years at the crime desk, and sex and money are always at the top of the motive list. Since TJ and Syd didn’t have any money, I’m betting on the former.”
“They weren’t having sex. They were thinking about it. We’d just had that talk, because he said maybe this summer, when she came back from France, they might.”
I smiled. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. Just that unless there’s an honest-to-God psychopath running around out there, we’re dealing with an emotional crime. And they tend to be motivated by things like jealousy. Especially in a population where hormones are raging.”
She tilted her head to one side and stared at me for a long moment.
“You’re talking like it was a murder.”
“Isn’t that what you think?”
She pulled her iPhone out of her bag, her children smiling at me from the back of her custom case. All three of them.
“I didn’t think I’d convince anyone of that,” she said. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me for two minutes, I’ll get your answer from Tiff. She can sleep another time. If she sleeps at all.”
I smiled a thank you and led Joey to the kitchen.
“Wow.” He leaned on the edge of the yellow-tiled countertop and folded his arms across his chest.
“What do you think?”
“She’s telling the truth about the dad,” he said.
“I thought so, too.”
“I asked around. Couldn’t find a story anywhere about that guy so much as taking a leak in an alley. Found a couple people who tried to get him into something, but they said they never could.”
“Would they care enough about that to hurt his kid?” I asked.
“Not likely.” He shook his head. “I like your theory, if you want my honest opinion.”
“Thanks.”
“And I like the way you were with her. You’re a good person, Nichelle. She needs help, and you’ll help her, regardless of whether there’s anything in it for you.”
“I would. The story is a nice bonus, but this became about a lot more than the story the minute Sheriff Zeke made up his mind. I can’t sit here and do nothing while this happens again.”
“And that’s what I don’t like.” Joey fixed me with a Baptist-preacher stare.
“The cops are out,” he continued. “The sheriff’s closing the case and he’s not going to help you anymore. Once the press conference is over, the rest of the media will likely disperse. Which leaves you trying to pin a murder on someone who was crafty enough to get away with it. If they’re that smart, they’ll figure out you’re looking. Maybe before you figure out who they are. Which means you could get hurt. That, I do not like.”
I shivered under his gaze, though it wasn’t cold in the room. “I can’t walk away,” I said. “They did that to my mom. It broke her. She’s never been on another date, and Randy died when I was fourteen years old.”
A tear escaped my eye before I could brush it away, and he pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Thanks.” I swiped at my face. “Just don’t give me a hard time about chasing this one, and we’re good. I appreciate that you worry.” I kissed his neck. “But I get a pass this time.”
“Be careful, okay?”
“Will do.”
“Nichelle?” Ashton called from the hallway. I squeezed Joey and walked back to the foyer.
“Tiffany said Sydney’s only ever had one other boyfriend, the year before she started going with TJ,” Ashton said. “But it wasn’t Luke. It was Eli Morris.”
“Any relation to Coach Morris?” I knew the answer before she opened her mouth.
“His only son.”
Joey walked Ashton to her car while I wrote down everything she’d told me.
“I feel bad, letting her drive home,” he said when he came back in, flopping down on the couch. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, trying to focus on my notes and not how unbelievably sexy he looked. Stubble shaded his jaw, and his shirt was still untucked and half-unbuttoned. No tie. Yum.
Ashton had sort of mucked up our moment. Now I had a story to write, hopefully an exclusive until the sheriff’s press conference. But since I wasn’t any closer to figuring out how the Post had gotten the inside scoop, I wasn’t sure of that, so time was not my friend.
“Yeah. I wish she’d stayed here. But she swears she’ll be fine,” I said. “I called Parker and he was going to call her husband and tell him she’s on her way.”
Joey nodded.
I put my notes down and reached for my computer.
“You have work to do?” he asked.
I scrunched my nose apologetically. “I really do. I want to get this up on the web early, so I need to get it ready and send it to Bob. He’ll post it online at the crack of dawn. And maybe he’ll be less annoyed with me as a bonus.”
“He’s not really mad at you,” Joey said. “We covered this already.”
“All the same, I’ll feel better when he’s fully back in my corner. I’ve been taking shit from the sports editor all week, and with Shelby filling in for Les, I can’t handle anyone else gunning for me.”
“What’s wrong with the sports editor?”
“He’s pissed because Parker asked me to take this story. Really has his panties in a bunch. It’s creepy, because Spence has always been a super nice guy, and he’s gone all stalker boy on me this week.” I paused. “You don’t think the Post got their story tip from him, do you?”
Joey frowned. “Couldn’t he lose his job over that?”
“He could. At the very least, Bob would put him on leave. But someone who works for us had to have told them. I didn’t run anything about it
, and the families haven’t talked to anyone but me.”
“But to be fair, it’s a small town,” Joey said. “Everyone knows everyone’s business out there. So someone else could have told the reporter from the Post.”
“Maybe. But Bob and Rick thought it came from me, which means they have good enough reason to think it came from our newsroom.”
“Why would the sports guy do that?”
“It gave away my exclusive before I was ready to run it, and got me in hot water with the bosses as a bonus. Anyone who’s worked with me for ten minutes knows that’s the surest way to get to me.”
“I suppose it’s possible.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
I pondered it for another three seconds before I stood to walk him to the door.
“I don’t have time to be worried about who Spence is talking to right now. Dead people first. Asshat sports guys later.”
He stopped at the door and turned to face me, pulling me into his arms. “Where do I fit in?”
I kissed him, teasing the tip of his tongue with mine. “Wherever I can shoehorn in a stolen kiss or three,” I said. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
“Don’t apologize. Your story is important right now. I’ll wait. You still have plans for Friday?”
“Yes. I had to bail on Jenna, too. I’m going to a street dance in Mathews.”
A dance I had a date for. Oy. Why couldn’t things just be easy?
“I see. Enjoy your dance. Be careful.” He smiled, opening the door before he put one finger under my chin and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “I’ll call you.”
“You’d better.” I closed the door behind him and watched him walk down the steps, wishing the evening had ended differently. Damn Zeke Waters and his craptastic timing.
“All right, Darcy. Let’s catch us a murderer, shall we?” I asked the dog, going back to my computer.
I thought about trying Waters, but didn’t want to piss him off. It was coming up on two.
TJ Okerson’s death has officially been ruled a suicide by Mathews County Sheriff Zeke Waters, the boy’s mother told the Richmond Telegraph late Tuesday.
Small Town Spin Page 18
