Resisting Redemption

by Amabel Daniels

  He lifted his face from the cocoon of his arms and eyed her. Chlorine burned his nostrils. Probably the reason he’d failed to smell her familiar scent of vanilla as she’d come to the pool and sat on the edge, her long, lean legs kicking the water absently next to him.

  “Why not? She clearly had to ‘control’ him. Why not decide whether he lives or dies?” he asked.

  Her brows raised. “But then she wasn’t the only one to control him, was she? If you start going down that path, why couldn’t Dave have killed him?”

  Unable to answer, he pushed off the wall for another lap. For the sake of considering the question, he needed to think a moment, and to resist the urge to pull her in the pool with him and feel her silky skin sliding next to his in the water, distance was necessary.

  Swimming away from the distraction of his assistant in an emerald-green two-piece, he forced himself to concentrate. How could he envision Kylie killing Josh as a means of control, but not Dave? Kylie’s dominance over Josh was a personal one, inside her twisted inner psyche. Perhaps Dave’s was not. Dave surely managed Josh from a business standpoint, but the man wasn’t “in love” with him. Or marrying him. Or starting rumors about having his babies.

  Kylie did have the license to two handguns. Not the firearms used to kill Josh, but it could at least hint at her familiarity with firing a weapon. Then again, Dave had been an amateur huntsman.

  Returning to Roxie, Grant hefted himself out of the pool and sat next to her, shaking his head once to toss the excess water. Alone in the room with her, he felt it a safe enough location to discuss the case.

  “Kylie owned him. His soul, his sanity—poor man—his life. Dave owned him for his career.”

  Roxie handed him a towel. He took it and rubbed his face and torso as she answered. “Wouldn’t the product of Josh’s career be the same end result both Kylie and Dave wanted? Money? Fame? Popularity? You’re not suggesting Kylie loved him.”

  He shook his head. “If Dave didn’t have Josh, he could get another client.”

  “And if Kylie didn’t have Josh, she could get another lover.”

  Watching their kicking limbs in the water, he frowned. “I bet it would be too much time and effort for Kylie to seek and find another gullible sucker to bend her way.”

  “Don’t tell me. Big boobs, blonde curls, tiny waists, and let-me-suck-you-off smiles aren’t your type?”

  Twisting, he faced her and eyed her from water-kicking toes to lush red ponytail. He took a good, long stare of just what his type was. One hundred percent trustworthy Roxie.

  She swallowed. “Line’s up.” She drew her arm between them in a linear motion.

  He nodded. “I meant it would be hard for her to start all over. Kylie and Josh were together for three years. All that time she had full access to him to plant the seeds for controlling him, pussy-whipping him into doing everything she wanted.”

  “Bitter much?”

  He rubbed his face with both hands, letting his towel fall to his lap. “You raise a smart point, though. Dave and Kylie both had something to lose in Josh. Dave a client. Kylie her pushover lover.”

  “What makes you so sure Josh was only a client to Dave?”

  “What other connection would there be? Friends?”

  Roxie tilted her head. “Sure, they could have been friends. But maybe Dave had high hopes of more money? Maybe they were buddies. Kylie said they’d both come from the same city. Not impossible they knew each other before Josh went on Idol.”

  “Possible. And perhaps Dave was disappointed at the amount of money he inherited in his death?”

  “Yes. But if he was killing Josh for money, I have to bet he’d at least know the potential piggy bank he was going for. You know? Why go to the extremes of killing Josh for ‘only’”—she air quoted with a comical smirk—“a few million? I’d imagine if Dave was looking for easy money, he’d want more than that. And that’s supposing Dave knew what Josh’s latest will said before the murder. If Kylie knew about Josh’s will, what’s to say Dave wouldn’t have been privy to the info?”

  “And Kylie already had more money than Josh’s estate,” he said, reinforcing his belief Kylie acted on twisted, dark personal motives, instead of financial ones. After mulling over the debate, he leaned back on his hands. Roxie adopted the same posture.

  “Don’t they say spouses are the first suspects?” Roxie asked.

  “Nothing’s as black and white as that. Surely a forensic statistic, but nowhere near a rule.”

  “But that would be Kylie.”

  “As almost spouse, yes. Are you trying to dissuade me from considering a financial motive for this killer?”

  “You told me already, you think what you want to think. No interference there. I’m merely brainstorming on the possibility of Dave or Kylie being driven to kill for Josh’s money. Or their relationships with Josh bearing more weight on their decisions.”

  He grinned. What a relief for a woman to respect and give him space to think for himself. So unlike his past with Tara’s nagging. And Roxie brainstorming? He was thrilled to see her come out of her shell more and forget that stupid label of ‘only’ being his assistant. The title had long ceased to matter to him, having come to respect her judgment and sharp mind in the first month of her employment.

  “You tell me then. We’ve talked to four of the five VIP guests so far. What’s striking you as a motive?”

  She let her chin rest on her shoulder. “For all of them? Paul, motive of hatred and sleeping with Richelle, so, I guess revenge? Jaydon, no motive. He was simply there and had an unfortunate coincidence of being there. Dave, motive of …” She frowned, struggling for more. “I can’t describe it, but there’s something there. Kylie, motive of craziness, her need to own Josh.”

  “No motive for Jaydon?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Not really.”

  “Don’t be too quick to count him out,” he warned. “Nothing is ever as it seems.”

  She snorted. “Seems? That’s all this is. Supposing. Asking questions to which answers go any which way. Debating. Other than video of Paul physically entering his car at the time of Josh’s death, there is no proof. No solid evidence to save Ben.” Giving him her green-eyed attention, she continued. “Paul hated Josh, but he was already leaving Velocity when Josh died. Jaydon was prey to Kylie’s flirtings, but he had nothing to gain from Josh’s death. Dave lost his client, but Josh wasn’t his only one, nor was he his highest-earning client. Kylie, she’s got some issues of being the boss, but how was she going to get her manipulative nails dirty dismembering Josh’s dick?”

  “Welcome to the nuances of a case built on circumstantial evidence.”

  She shook her head.

  “We’ll get there, Roxie, we’ll get to the bottom of it all.”

  “Frustrating.”

  “All things worth striving for are.”

  He dragged his gaze from her mouth to her eyes.

  “Count me out of your goals, Boss.”

  With a smirk, he stood and then offered his hand to her. “Thought you came to terms with not telling me what I wish to think.”

  She laughed once, accepted his assistance to stand, and then wrapped a towel around her waist. “Anyway… If we can hustle to get dressed and on the road in a couple hours, we can get to Geraldo’s Cut.”

  Did she really think avoiding their attraction was going to last? He smiled. “Fancying a steak?”

  “Fancying a strike of two birds with one stone. Wayne plans to dine there tonight.” She winked as she exited the pool room.

  Winking? Saucy little temptation. But there was a line. She could be the one to cross it. Roxie was too valuable of a companion to risk losing by not playing by her rules. He could wait. He would wait.

  “Another revelation from Twitter?”

  She shrugged her shoulder. “Hey, it works.”

  “How about we make a reservation this time?”

  She beamed at him. “One step ahead of you. I
called his assistant and was actually forwarded to Wayne’s publicist. As soon as I said we wished to speak with him about Josh’s death”—she rolled her eyes—“something I’ve been calling them about like a nag, he was all for it. I’ve got a hunch since there was nothing else for them to do in Miami, they used this to spin it into a little PR. They already shared a post about ‘looking forward to business arrangements to settle with the late Josh Warren estate.’”

  “Awfully far-fetched. They realize we’re speaking about the case, on behalf of Ben, not…?”

  Nodding, she turned down the hall. “Yes, they know. I bet they threw that out there to mooch off Josh’s name. Give themselves a little dose of importance.”

  “Couple hours, you say?” he checked as they headed to the elevator.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sir? With her arms crossed over her chest, no doubt in a defensive posture from his wandering leers, she was silent. Apparently, she was risqué enough to taunt him, consciously at least, but too timid to stand by her teases. He’d give her time. “Let’s explore your dislike of Kylie?”

  “My dislike?”

  “You called her manipulative.”

  “You got moody and angry after our interview with her. I think you’re the one who had issues with her.”

  No. Not Kylie. Just the reminder of Tara.

  “By the way, how did you get to her table?” Roxie asked, saving him from sharing that detail.

  He crossed the space of the elevator and mimicked the hold he’d had on Roxie at The Blue Heron’s bar, arm around her slim, bare waist, one hand holding hers, his mouth centimeters from her ear beneath the red frizzes of hair that escaped her ponytail. “Remember this?”

  She bobbed her head, her chin tapping his chest.

  He leaned even closer to whisper. “I let her imagine she was the one in my arms.”

  With a solid shove away, Roxie claimed her distance, but with a frown on her face and her lower lip between her teeth. “Well, clearly you are her type then. Good work.” Safely plastered to the opposite wall again, she cleared her throat, posing in what he considered her ‘I will be professional’ look. “And what do you mean by exploring?”

  Distractions again. Damned if he was, damned if he wasn’t. On one hand, Roxie was a hell of a disturbance to his concentration that should be consistently focused on Ben’s case. But she was quick to redirect his attention. Lines, right.

  “Let’s say she did it. Let’s confirm what we can find out. Exactly when was Josh’s latest will written? Who wrote it, and was Dave associated with that firm? Chris has all that info somewhere, so we’ll wade through it until dinner. I’ll start on those will prerogatives, and you can check out the rest.

  “The younger sister, Kylie’s assistant. Review her interviews with the detectives. Research any documented experience of her handling firearms—firing range, license to carry, etc. Check on the firearms assigned to Kylie’s bodyguards and whether the investigation confirmed any pieces were on them the morning after at Velocity. Review the—”

  “Jesus, Grant. Hold on!” She hurried after him as the elevator opened to their floor and he exited. “Where the heck do you think I’m hiding a notepad in this towel?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  If Roxie had to guess, she’d estimate she’d scoured thousands of papers on Ben’s case. Digital and print, she’d skimmed, highlighted, read, and re-read countless documents—interviews, statements, detective notes, autopsy results, financial reports. Countless data. Instead of overwhelming her—because it wasn’t much different than post-grad dissertation prep—she was in awe.

  Grant didn’t shortcut. And thanks to the assistance of Chris back at Kaniz & Associates, Grant had easy access to the information. It was only up to her to organize it. Needle in the haystack became a sheet of paper in the pile.

  An hour and a half flew by in Grant’s room. She researched his list and he studied the matter of Josh’s will. She had yet to enter her own room, her bag still near the door. He’d showered, dressed, and stuck to his laptop, and she’d borrowed his facilities and did the same. He on the bed, she at the table.

  Even though the temptation to sneak a peek of him exiting the bathroom was tricky, she’d plowed into her tasks, determined to prove to herself she had some restraint, and to prove to Grant she could meet his impromptu challenge of information gathering. And reaffirm her own proposed lines, distinguishing why they shouldn’t linger on smoldering gazes and ESP of ‘gimme, gimme, fuck me, please.’

  With twenty minutes left before they needed to depart for the steakhouse to meet Wayne, Grant gave her the cue to wrap it up on her laptop and get ready to go.

  “We’ve got plenty of time,” she said as she followed him out the door nonetheless, legal pad in hand while she arranged the mess in her tote.

  One thick brow shot upward.

  “Yeah, yeah. Mr. Punctuality.” She dismissed him with a wave in the elevator.

  “Let me guess. You’re the kind to be fashionably late to the party?”

  What party? “Nice try. But no. I’ve never really done the party scene. Too busy studying and working.”

  A gray button-down shirt, jeans, and sandals completed his attire. It was the first time she’d been privy to what Grant considered casual. Even though his garments had to cost more than her rent, he did it well. Posh or relaxed, Grant didn’t disappoint.

  And I bet the nude version is the best. She shook her head. “Why is that funny?”

  “It’s not. Just another similarity between us.” He gestured for her to precede him into the hotel lobby.

  “All work and no play makes…”

  “I’m even duller than that.” He took the key from the valet and drove to Geraldo’s Cut.

  It was a breather from his direct and blatant flirtations and hopes for mixing business with pleasure when he told her how Josh’s will measured up. Yes, he’d written it years ago, when he’d first met Kylie, and yes, both Kylie and Dave were made aware of the contents prior to Josh’s death.

  “There is a possibility Josh might have sought to write a new one, but none have been filed other than the original.”

  “Maybe to flex the money going to Kylie and Dave?” she asked.

  “Perhaps. The newer will likely would have been through a firm Dave used, as that’s where the initial correspondence of Josh’s inquiry came from. So Dave must have known to have arranged or recommended that firm. But I suspect Kylie knew nothing of it.” He glanced at her at a red light and pointed to the legal pad in her lap. “Find anything on your list?”

  Anything? Oh, sweetie pie. I got it all.

  “Frances, Kylie’s sister, is licensed to carry, as is Kylie. Between the both of them, they have three handguns to their names, but none of those match the weapon nor the ammunition found at the crime scene. Kylie and Frances previously visited a firing range near their home in California, but they haven’t gone since 2006, and no other documentation—let’s say, for example, rifle association awards—can show they are expert shooters.” She paused reading from her legal pad for a deep breath. “The firm Kylie hires for security and protection employs men licensed to carry. Of the three men she had assigned that night, only two came inside the building, while the third remained outside. He was armed, again not with the piece that killed Josh, and the two who came inside with her were not armed. I’m surprised you’re wasting time on their guns. You know the gun that killed Josh wasn’t found in any of the reports.”

  “True.”

  Business complete, silence filled the car. She guessed it was only a matter of time before he said something that would annoy and thrill her at the same time.

  “Did it hurt?” he asked.

  “Did what hurt?” She tore her gaze from the window and narrowed her eyes at him. His attention was riveted on her shirt.

  “Having Lucy.” He returned his focus to the road. “I couldn’t help but notice the scar…when you were in your suit earlier.”

 
; No, that’s not personal as hell, right? Weird for him to want to know, but it wasn’t horrendous information. Didn’t he say he had a sister? A man should never comment on noticing a woman’s scars. Though Roxie didn’t regret her eight-inch line of delivery. She was proud of it, a symbol of the most important day of her life, Lucy’s arrival. “No. I mean the labor was awful, hours on end. But they had to do a C-section and I was numbed for that. Recovery was the not-so-fun portion. Interesting how one can take parts of the body for granted until they are decommissioned. Laughing, sneezing, getting up from a chair…those were damn near impossible until I healed.”

  When he didn’t follow up with another out-of-the blue question, she felt the need to retort somehow. “Anything else you notice that needs clarification, master of observation?”

  His reply was a wicked grin. “Only the inside.”

  As in him entering her, or her soul and mind? Argh! She forced the sexual images from her mind. His trips to the gutter were both peeving and exhilarating. “You’re not the only one to notice things here.”

  “Checking me out?”

  “There’s no doubt you’re a gorgeous man. On the outside.”

  “Is that your backhanded way of calling me an asshole?”

  She watched his frown grow. “I mean I see no more than what you let me see.”

  Downturned lines flipped to the start of a smile. “What are you looking for?”

  “What’s inside you?”

  His left hand dropped from the steering wheel. The pad of his index finger circled the pad of his thumb. His tell? He was vulnerable? About her opinions? Maybe it wasn’t all lust and straight-up testosterone controlling his gazes and teases.

  Dangerous grounds, Rox. Watch your step.

  “You want to know me intimately?” he asked.

  “No, I want to know who you are as a person.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “To consider me as more than a promise for a good fuck?”

  I have a hunch there. “Just to see you as more than a boss.”