His eyes look to each of mine at a quickened clip. “There is no way you’re ever getting rid of me.” He lands a chaste kiss to my forehead and walks out the door with a wave. I stand and watch him drive away, and even though he’s headed in the opposite direction, it makes my heart full knowing that Noah Fox will forever be with me.
That alone feels like a special achievement. I am a very lucky girl to have both Noah and Everett in my life. And, on the other hand, I am a very unlucky girl to be caught in such an impossible predicament.
One thing is for certain—Noah, Everett, and I are going clubbing tonight. And if we’re lucky, we’ll be dancing with a killer in our midst.
Chapter 9
By late afternoon the bakery is still bustling. I’ve been whipping up white chocolate chip macadamia cookies as well as traditional chocolate chip cookies almost nonstop since Noah left. Partially because they’re his favorite, and I’m doing so out of guilt, and partially because they smell so good when they’re baking it acts as a calling card along all of Main Street. It’s really not fair that no other business in Honey Hollow has such olfactory superpowers as the bakery.
But the warmer the weather gets, the more the tourists seem to flock to our corner of the world. There is still so much beauty in our stretch of Vermont. Not to mention terror, as provided by my mother’s B&B tours. And as morbid as it sounds, she sends them all to my bakery afterwards for what she’s dubbed as The Last Thing They Ate Tour. Unfortunately, Honey Hollow is becoming infamous for its recent string of unrelated homicides. And as equally morbid as it sounds, one of my baked goods always seems to be at the center of it.
Keelie bops over as Lily and I finish up with a small crowd, all demanding Nessa St. James’ lemon bars. It’s creepy if you ask me to gleefully nosh on something that was a part of a homicide. But I can rest in the fact that nothing I actually baked was responsible for anyone’s death. Someone adulterated the lemon bar that killed Nessa. And even though Greer Giles had one of my red velvet cupcakes shoved so far down her throat it could have easily suffocated her, it wasn’t the ultimate cause of death. And more to the point, Greer herself has never blamed me once.
“What’s up, Keels?” I offer up a lemon bar, and she quickly snatches it from me.
“Forget me. What’s up with you? Have you let Everett frost your cookies again?”
I cringe at her verbiage. It just so happens that little baking euphemism (code for getting down to the nitty-gritty) was one that Noah and I came up with right before we did the deed.
“Almost. But Noah caught us.”
They both gasp so loud half the customers snap their necks in this direction.
“Everything is fine.” I’m quick to wave them back to their goodies. The last thing I need is an incident, or a rumor of an incident, taking place at the bakery. “Anyway”—I keep my voice low—“he started beating up Everett, but Everett got a few good swings in, too. Speaking of Noah, both Everett and I have a date with him tonight.”
Lily scoffs. “I knew this was going to get weird. You do realize once the fine townsfolk of this blip on the map get wind of you and your bed buddies, they’re going to run the three of you out of town.”
I avert my gaze at the thought. “You’re probably right, but Everett and Noah are not my bed buddies.”
“That’s what you say.” Lily gives me the side-eye. “I’m betting a year won’t go by before the three of you are shacking up in one house and dubbing it a smart financial move.” She says that last part with air quotes.
“So where’s the date taking place?” Keelie opts to ignore her, and how I wish I could do the same. I really do care what people think of me—what they think of Noah and Everett, too. Noah is a prominent homicide detective, and Everett is a well-respected judge. I can’t let this thing between us take them down in a ball of lust-filled flames.
“A secret club in Leeds. It’s highly exclusive. Noah says that if you drove by you wouldn’t even realize it was there. It’s in the meatpacking district.”
“Club Echelon.” Lily shrugs while sorting coins in the cash drawer.
“You know about this place?”
“Everybody does. Everyone with money.” She gives a snide look my way. “Naomi and I have gone a few times.”
Keelie’s mouth falls open. “That witch! Did she ever once think to take me, her sister? I can’t believe this.” She shakes her blonde curls my way. “Well, you are certainly not getting away with this.” She pulls out her phone and begins pecking away manically at the screen.
“What are you doing? You’re not calling the authorities, are you?” God, she’ll be on the news for making an asinine call to 911. Hello? Operator? Send the Sheriff out. My BFF refuses to take me clubbing with her.
Keelie rolls her eyes. “I have a group chat going with Meg and Hook. They’ll be ready whenever you are. There’s no way we’re going to miss this good time.”
Hook Redwood came back into town last December when his brother was murdered. Hook and Keelie went at it hot and heavy and were even engaged for about five minutes, but they’ve since decided to date other people instead. So, when my sister, Meg, came back from a rather prolonged stint with the women’s wrestling circuit in Las Vegas, well, let’s just say Madge the Badge pinned Hook to the ground pretty quickly.
As soon as Keelie caught wind, she was morbidly jealous—even though she’ll never admit it—and she wanted Hook back for herself. But Hook being the cuttingly handsome devil he is, decided he would date both women and understandably both women fell under his charismatic spell.
Lily shakes her head over at Keelie. “I can’t believe you’re still with that guy even though he’s openly making out with Meg whenever he gets the chance.”
“I can’t help it.” Keelie bows her head in shame. “Meg and I both care deeply for him. He’s our Lottie.”
I shudder at the comparison.
Lily grunts my way, “See what you started? A very bad trend. Let’s just hope you don’t pollute the youth with this nonsense.” She takes off for the back, and Keelie leans across the counter.
“Just wait until you have two hot men warring after you, Lily! It won’t be such nonsense then!”
I take a step closer to my sweet friend who I want nothing but the best for. “Do yourself a favor and find someone else to pine after. If Hook can’t make up his mind, then he doesn’t deserve either of you.” I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand. “Did I really just say that?”
“You did, but do you mean it?”
“On the surface I do, but”—a deep groan comes from me as I roll my neck—“it’s so much more complicated than that.”
“I figured as much. I’ve got some black lace lingerie that can double as a dress. I’m coming guns blazing tonight. Make sure you look hot. You want to blend in.”
“Will do!”
Look hot. I mentally survey my wardrobe and come up empty. The hottest thing I own is that frilly, naughty Mrs. Claus outfit Keelie gifted me last Christmas. Nope that will not do.
Then an idea comes to mind.
* * *
Scarlet Sage knew immediately what to outfit me in once I explained my predicament—thus the reason I’m standing in front of a sign that reads Condi’s Deli Meats, wearing a skirt so short and snug a part of me wonders if it were really a belt. I’ve also donned a pair of fishnet stockings with obnoxiously large netting and have completed the look with rhinestone pumps and a silver coned bra strapped over the girls with red tassels that spin effortlessly with my every move.
In all honesty, I have never been one to walk on the raunchy side, not even on Halloween when every good girl gets a pass to outfit herself with as much slutty apparel as she wants.
As soon as Noah and Everett spotted me, they stood still for a small eternity just ogling my body as if I were a billboard doing my best to entice them to the naughty side of town. And ironically, that happens to be exactly where we are—in Leeds where every side of town is the naug
hty side.
Everett eyes me from the side, his lips curling with approval. His eyes are glossed over with desire, and I can practically feel the heat emanating off his body. Ten bucks says if Everett and I were alone, I wouldn’t be wearing this greasy getup for very long.
“Lemon, you just can’t go wrong in anything you put on.”
Noah groans, “Shut up. Other men are going to be looking at her tonight, and they are not going to be having a single wholesome thought.”
Everett growls with approval. “I can attest to that. I’m not having a single wholesome thought at the moment myself.” He steps in close until my body conforms to his. “Did I tell you I invested in a litter box? You can bring the boys over later and you can all spend the night.”
My mouth falls open, amused at the thought of Everett stepping into a pet store just for my sweet angels, Pancake and Waffles. But before I can say a thing, Keelie, Meg, and Hook come bounding our way.
Keelie has a little black dress on. And if I squint, I can see that it’s comprised of lace, but it looks demure compared to the travesty I’ve donned. And Meg, well, she’s wearing a black latex number that looks as if her naked form was dipped in paint. And as far as my sister goes, that’s practically an everyday accouterment. In other words, she didn’t have to dig too far in her closet to produce that number. Hook is wearing slacks and a dress shirt much like Noah—and Everett is complete with his signature three-piece suit.
“Keelie, why did you tell me to dress this way? I look completely ridiculous. I’m embarrassed to tell you how much I paid for this grungy getup. And now that money is a total loss.”
Everett takes up my hand and gives a wistful shake of the head. “I can promise you that not one red cent will be wasted. I’ll make sure you’ll make good use of that for a very long time to come, Cupcake.”
Noah looks ready to kill. “Over your dead body.”
“Relax, sweetheart,” Everett is quick to chide him. “Why are you so stressed? Things not going so well with the missus?”
Noah gives a long blink before offering a rhythmic knock on the door, and, after about a minute, a tall man answers. He’s bald, angry, and has muscles so painfully big that his T-shirt is having trouble stretching over them.
“Echelon,” Noah says it cool and low as the bouncer surveys our small crowd.
“Everyone but the stripper gets in.” He steps back, and the entire lot of us inspect one another for a moment before Keelie and Meg burst out laughing.
“Oh my goodness”—my face burns with the heat of a thousand sexed-up suns—“you think I’m a stripper?”
“Why else would you be dressed like that?” he barks before motioning the rest of them inside. “Go on. Get going before we draw attention.”
Everett produces a wad of bills from his pocket and stuffs them into the bouncer’s oversized mitt. “After you, Lemon.”
And just like that, I’m the first to enter what reeks like a slaughterhouse—because it is. Aside from being putrid, it’s murky, and just as I’m about to wedge myself between Noah and Everett, I spot a pair of familiar supernatural sparkling spooks a few feet away.
“Greer, Max! I’m so glad you could make it,” I say it lower than a whisper. “Where’s Winslow? He might really dig this scene.”
Greer rolls her luminescent eyes. “We’re on a break. He’s not taking it well. Who knew he had the power to take an entire door off its hinges? That boyfriend of your mother’s thinks she’s cheating, by the way. Things are going south quickly. He ripped a page out of Winslow’s playbook and ripped a door off its hinges, too.”
“Great.” I knew Carlotta would do far more damage than good. How could I have entrusted my mother’s safety in her hands? I couldn’t even entrust her with my safety. “I’ll take care of that later. Tonight, we’re scoping out Jenson Becker. If either of you hears anything, report right back to me. I expect some serious supernatural sleuthing to take place.”
Greer blows me a kiss as she takes Max by the hand, and we all follow the beefy bouncer toward a long, dark hall that leads to a secret door in the back.
And once I step inside Echelon, I can’t help but gasp.
Chapter 10
Club Echelon is nothing more than a preppy playground.
The lighting is a step up from the murky hovel we were just led through, the music—’70s soft rock—isn’t all that loud, and the well-mannered, well-dressed crowd is milquetoast to say the least. The building itself is a large steel structure with concrete flooring, exposed ductwork, and lots of metal tables scattered around.
There’s a bar with flashy neon lights directing you to the mixologist, in the event you get lost on the way—but none of that compares to what my eyes are actually witnessing. Dozens of white sofas fill the immediate space just beyond the entry, each of them laden with men clad in chinos, women in corduroy pants, long-sleeved blouses buttoned up to their necks, and their feet are either covered with penny loafers circa 1983 or driving moccasins that I’m guessing cost more than my poor Honda is worth.
Meg leans in. “Welcome to the preppy palladium. Hey? Maybe if we’re lucky, a Republican pep rally will break out and we’ll all be asked to register to vote?”
Greer and Max glow as they make their way to a more expansive area in the back where bodies appear to be moving and grooving to this yawn-able yacht rock. Not that I hate it. It’s actually just my speed, but as far as clubbing goes, this feels rather like a dud.
Keelie slaps her hands and shakes her hips. “Come on, Meg. Don’t be such a downer. This is where Wall Street comes to sizzle.”
Meg grunts, “More like fizzle.”
“Hook!” A couple of guys from the Wall Street corner of the room wave him over. “We were just discussing hedge funds.”
Hook heads over. “Why bother? They’ve been dead for years.”
Keelie moans as he meanders straight toward the chino crew, “And we’ve lost him.”
Meg doesn’t look all that distraught, though. My sister tugs at Keelie by the elbow. “Come on. We’re hitting the dance floor. I need to limber up for later tonight.”
“I get him later tonight.” Keelie swats Meg with her purse as they stumble into the next room.
Everett and Noah close in on me, and I can’t help but note all the condescending looks I’m receiving from the uptight girls sporting that low-key wealthy vibe. And soon enough, their eyes enlarge as they catch wind of the demigods I’ve dragged into their midst.
“We need to find Jenson,” I say as more bodies pile in and the club starts filling up.
Noah leans in. “I think I see her by the bar.”
Just as the three of us are about to make our way in that direction, a familiar couple crops up before us. My ex, Bear, and his new main squeeze, Rigby Emerson, are here whooping it up. Bear has that sandy beach look to him, blond hair, tanned face. And Rigby is a redheaded, freckle-faced sweetheart.
“What are the two of you doing here?” I ask with open-mouthed surprise. For a very long while, I couldn’t stand Bear after he broke my heart. But last month, after my other ex, Curt Vanderlin, strolled into town, I seemed to make peace with both of my exes. It was the last thing in the world I expected.
“What aren’t we doing here?” Bear wraps an arm around Rigby as she snuggles into him. “Face it, there’s nothing to do in Honey Hollow after dark.”
Everett leans in, his lips right over my ear. “I can think of a few things.”
Rigby is quick to agree with her new boy toy. “Lottie, you should really consider putting a secret club in after hours at the bakery.”
“I think I’ll leave the dancing scene to the pros.”
“Speaking of pros”—Bear leans in—“I hear you’ve got another case on your hands. That St. James girl seemed to have an enemy hiding under every rock.”
“What makes you think that?” My adrenaline kicks in at the thought of Bear hand-delivering vital information to me.
“I’m doing rep
air work for your mom. Some kook knocked two doors off their hinges. And that chick who had the divorce party loves to chat me up whenever I’m there.”
Rigby’s eyes enlarge with rage. “Give me a call next time you need to head to the B&B. I might just make a pit stop there myself. No one messes with my fuzzy little teddy Bear.”
I wince as she says the seemingly adorable moniker, and we part ways as they head to the dance hall in the back.
“Landon seems just as hard up for a man as her sister.” I don’t mind taking a swipe at Cormack in the process. “Those girls will do anything for attention.”
Noah’s phone pings, and he looks at the screen. “Funny you should say that. It’s a text from Cormack.”
I glance to Everett and avert my eyes.
“Right on cue,” I mutter. “Let me guess. She wants you to pick up some bath salts so you can give her an appropriate foot rub later tonight?”
Everett’s chest rumbles as he wraps his arms around me. “And while you’re touching Cormack’s tired dogs, I’ll be touching Lemon’s—”
“She got another threat,” Noah cuts Everett off before shoving the screen in his face.
I peer over. It’s a picture of a note.
“You’re not leaving this planet alive,” I read before scoffing with a laugh. “That’s hardly a threat. None of us are leaving this planet alive. What kind of a moron would come up with that?”
Noah begins texting back. “I’m sorry, Lottie. We have to take this seriously.”
“You shouldn’t bother.” I point to the screen. “Look at that chicken scratch. It looks as if she wrote it with her left hand.”
Everett sighs. “Cormack is left-handed.”
“And I stick to my story,” I say as I indeed spot Jenson Becker by the mixology station.
Noah’s phone pings again, and we all peer down to see it’s a text from Britney. How about a nightcap at my place? The ghosts are raging tonight. I’m guessing it’s a couple’s squabble. Quite romantic. Don’t you think?
Lethal Lemon Bars: MURDER IN THE MIX 9 Page 8
