Suspicious Circumstances

by Rita Herron

  “I won’t hate you,” she whispered. “And the only regret I would have is if you turned me down again.”

  A debate warred in his mind—his conscience, rational thought, all the reasons he shouldn’t touch her and give in to desire. But the hunger in her expression triggered his own, and rational thought lost out.

  She cradled his face in her hands. Tentative, then bolder, her tongue teased at his lips. Pure raw hunger ripped through him, and he gave in to temptation and kissed her deeply. She tasted like the sweetest, finest wine—delicate yet bold, and so savory that he craved another drink.

  Their tongues mated and danced in a sensual game that ignited his blood with lust. A flick of his tongue along her ear and down her neck made her moan, and she pulled at the buttons on his shirt again. This time, he helped her, freeing them and tossing his shirt onto the floor.

  She pushed aside the quilt on her bed and made room for him, and he crawled in beside her and cupped her breast in his hand. Her nipple stiffened, and she parted her lips on a soft, sensual sigh.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered as he lowered his mouth and teased her nipple through her tank top.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please.”

  How could he deny her request? He wanted her, naked and hot beneath him. He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to make her cry out in pleasure instead of pain.

  She stroked his calf with her foot, and he lifted her tank top and pulled it over her head. Her bare breasts were ripe and full, her nipples begging for his mouth. He gave them what they needed, sweet tongue licks and teasing, then he tugged one into his mouth and suckled her.

  She lifted her hips and groaned, then pulled at his belt. He teased her other breast, pausing only long enough to yank off his belt and pants. Her pajama pants came next, gliding down her slender legs and over her round hips. They fell to the floor in a puddle with the rest of his clothes, and he dropped kisses down her abdomen to the waist of her lacy panties.

  He teased her heat through the thin lace with his fingers while he suckled her breasts again. She whispered his name and clawed at his back, urging him to continue with soft moans of delight.

  Slowly he lowered the lacy garment and she slipped it off, then she pushed at his boxer briefs. His sex was hard, throbbing and aching for her warm body, and when she freed him with her hand and stroked his length, he thought he might explode with pleasure.

  She gripped his hips and pulled him to her, but he hesitated, then snagged a condom from his pants’ pocket. A smile tilted her mouth as she helped him roll it on, then he nudged her legs apart, climbed on top of her and stroked her inner thighs with his rigid length.

  Their movements became frantic as she kissed him again and wrapped her legs around his hips. He suckled at her neck, then thrust his sex into her wet heat. She groaned and lifted her hips so he could move deeper. His breath panted out as they built a steady sensual rhythm. She met him thrust for thrust, moan for moan as their slick bodies glided together.

  She groaned, then flipped him onto his back and straddled him. Need and passion rose to a crescendo as her breasts swayed and she rode him harder and faster. He called her name and twisted her nipples between his fingers, then she threw her head back and cried out her release.

  The raw pleasure on her face made his orgasm come swift and hard, and his body jerked as the sensations splintered through him.

  * * *

  PLEASURE ROCKED THROUGH PEYTON in a mind-numbing array of colors. Her chest squeezed with emotions for the strong, sexy man who’d just made love to her, and she dropped her head against his chest on a sigh.

  Their sweat-slick bodies melded together as he cradled her against him and rubbed her back. “You okay?” he asked softly.

  “Good. Real good,” she whispered.

  He chuckled. “That was amazing.”

  More than amazing. She feared she’d given him more than her body. She’d given him her heart. But admitting that would probably send him running.

  “I’ll be right back.” He slipped from bed, went into the bathroom and returned a minute later. She reached for her tank and pajama pants, but he shook his head. “I like your skin against mine.”

  His husky voice brought a blush to her face, and she raked her hand over his bare chest. “I like it, too.”

  Heat flared in his eyes, and he kissed her again, then pulled her up against him and wrapped his arms around her. For the first time in forever, she curled into a man and allowed him to comfort her as she drifted back to sleep.

  Hours later, as the first strains of daylight seeped through the window, she stirred and rolled over to find Liam watching her.

  She smiled. “No regrets and I don’t hate you,” she whispered. “Do you hate me? Have regrets?”

  He chuckled. “How can I hate you for giving me the best night of my life?” His voice turned husky again. “And my only regret is that we can’t stay in bed like this all day.”

  Her cheeks blushed. She wished the same thing. But daylight brought reality. Her mother was in a coma, fighting for her life. Val was in trouble and needed her.

  And someone wanted her dead.

  “I keep a duffel bag with a change of clothes in my car,” Liam said. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

  “Of course not. I’ll start some coffee, then shower after you.”

  She snagged a pair of sweats from the chair in the corner, pulled them on, then headed to the kitchen. While he retrieved his duffel bag, she filled the coffee carafe with water and coffee and pressed Start.

  She waited until he was in the shower, then stuffed her feet into her sneakers and left the apartment. She jogged up the hill and across the property toward the gardens. Birds chirped and twittered their morning songs, and the wind lifted dried leaves from the ground and sent them swirling across the land. More storm clouds filled the horizon, rolling across the sky in a blurry gray.

  She scanned the property as she passed the central building housing the patio. Grateful the residents hadn’t yet ventured outside, she wove through the rows of flowers to the rose garden.

  Anxious to find whatever her sister left before Liam realized she was gone, she dropped to her knees and raked her hand along the ground beneath the bench. A second later, her finger brushed over a slight section where the ground was raised in a small mound.

  Val had buried something here. She’d always liked scavenger hunts and enjoyed hiding things from Peyton.

  She used her hands to dig away the dirt and found an envelope. Fingers shaking, she ripped it open. Val had left a note.

  I know what happened the night Gloria Inman died. You can’t trust anyone at the Gardens. We have to meet somewhere private, off the property. I’ll be in touch.

  Peyton’s pulse jumped. How would Val know what happened to Mrs. Inman?

  * * *

  LIAM DRESSED IN clean clothes, then went to tell Peyton it was her turn to shower.

  Time to get back to work.

  The odor of strong coffee wafted toward him, and he found a pot brewed in the kitchen. Peyton wasn’t in the room though, or the living area. The sound of the sliding glass doors opening echoed from the doorway, and he glanced up to see her entering.

  He went still, alarm bells clanging in his head. “Where have you been?”

  She lifted her brows at his tone, and he realized he’d sounded harsher than he intended. Maybe even a little possessive.

  He couldn’t help himself. He was damn worried about her.

  “I went for a short run,” she said. “I usually jog in the morning and thought it would help with my anxiety.” She rolled her shoulders as if to prove her point.

  “It’s dangerous for you to be alone,” he said. “I thought you understood that. That’s the reason I stayed last night.”

  Hurt flickered in her eyes. “I know th
at. But it was just a short run and it’s daylight.”

  He gritted his teeth as she crossed the room, removed two mugs from the cabinet and poured them both coffee. “Don’t do it again,” he said, softening his tone. “I don’t want you to go out alone until we solve this case and make an arrest.”

  She stirred honey into her coffee. “Yes, sir.”

  He took a deep breath. “I mean it. You have to listen to me, Peyton, or I can’t do my job. You’re in danger.”

  “I know that.” Her gaze met his, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face. Last night he’d made love to her, had felt close to her.

  This morning she seemed distant. As if she was erecting walls.

  “I’m going to shower.” Spinning away from him, she took her coffee and disappeared into the bedroom.

  He heard the shower water kick on and felt as if he’d just made a big mistake with her. But he didn’t have a clue as to what he’d done wrong. He just wanted to protect her, dammit.

  His phone buzzed. The ME, Dr. Hammerhead. “Agent Maverick.”

  “I have the autopsy report on Leon Brittles. Cause of death was cardiac arrest due to an opioid overdose.”

  Similar to Gloria Inman. “Did he have a history of taking opioids?”

  “No evidence that he did from the autopsy,” Dr. Hammerhead said. “And the only medication listed on his medical records was blood pressure medication.”

  “Did you pinpoint the drug that killed him?”

  “Heroin,” the ME said. “And more than four times the amount a first timer would use.”

  Which meant Leon Brittles had been murdered.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Liam drummed his fingers on his thigh. What motive would anyone have to kill a man in his late seventies?

  Did Leon Brittles have money?

  Liam ended the call, pressed Bennett’s number and relayed his conversation with the ME. “Did you check Mr. Brittles’s financials?”

  “I did. He had no family, but it appears he had a life insurance policy that he signed over to a third party. I’m trying to track down the recipient of that policy now.”

  A possible theory formed in Liam’s mind. “How about the three patients who died where Conrad worked? Did any of them have policies they signed over to a third party?”

  “I’ll look into it,” Bennett said. “I’ve been running background checks on the list of employees at Golden Gardens and found something interesting about the director, Richard Jameson. Did you know he worked at Whistler Hospital for a while?”

  “No, in what capacity?”

  “He was an internist,” Bennett said. “But before med school, he worked as a med tech at a pain clinic. This is where it gets interesting.”

  Liam sipped his coffee, impatient now. “Go on.”

  “He was suspended when opioids went missing. But with no proof, the clinic didn’t press charges. Jameson agreed not to file a lawsuit for slander if they didn’t report the issue and kept it off his record.”

  “Then he attended med school and now he has a script pad,” Liam said. “All the access he needs for drugs for himself or to kill someone if he wanted.”

  “Exactly. I did some digging at the med school and while some of the instructors and docs liked him, a couple stated they had personality conflicts with him. Nothing specific about drugs. Just that his ethics were shaky.”

  The bedroom door opened, and Peyton emerged, looking fresh faced and gorgeous with her long wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her gaze met his for a moment, and something hot and needy flared between them before she glanced away.

  “Let’s dig around for a motive for the director,” Liam said. “Did you find anything on the names of the prescribers listed on Mrs. Inman’s pills?”

  “Working on them.”

  “Keep me posted.” Bennett agreed he would, and they ended the call.

  “What was that about the director?” Peyton asked.

  He filled her in. “Did you know Richard Jameson worked at Whistler Hospital five years ago?”

  Peyton set her coffee cup on the counter. “Yes. After the fire when the hospital had to close temporarily, and I was looking for a place to move Mama, I learned about Golden Gardens. He’d taken a job there as director.” She swallowed hard. “He helped me get my job.”

  Every nerve cell in Liam’s body jumped to alert. Had he helped her so he could keep an eye on her because he was involved in what happened at Whistler Hospital?

  * * *

  PEYTON SIPPED HER COFFEE as she contemplated Liam’s statement.

  “Director Jameson helped you land a job here,” he said.

  She nodded, although his suspicious tone made her reevaluate the past. Gloria Inman’s death. The threat. The fire. Her move. Her mother’s near death.

  Director Jameson had been in all those places. But he hadn’t been in the ER the night Gloria Inman died. And he had no motive to kill her or set the fire.

  “I don’t understand,” she said quietly.

  “Neither do I. Yet. But I will figure it out.” His dark gaze skated over her, a reminder of the intimacy they’d shared the night before. And that she wanted him again.

  “When I want something,” he said in a husky tone, “I don’t give up.”

  If only he wanted her.

  Her heart gave a pang at the thought. The fear and danger were obviously messing with her head.

  She silently reminded herself that her relationship with Liam couldn’t go anywhere. That he was only working a case. And she had thrown herself at him. Practically begged him to take her to bed.

  But his comment about staying to watch over her had struck a nerve. She had been independent for so long that relying on someone else made her feel vulnerable.

  Liam would protect her and keep her safe. At least physically.

  But he could still break her fragile heart.

  KNOWING SHE HAD to focus, she snagged her coat from the rack by the door. “I need to go to the hospital.”

  “Let’s go.” He pulled his keys from his pocket and she grabbed her purse and keys to lock up. They walked outside in silence, her mind racing as she remembered different encounters with the director. He had been understanding about her situation, kind to her mother and had arranged for her to have a private cottage near the garden area so she could enjoy the view.

  She’d watched him with other residents and thought he had their best interest at heart.

  Could she have misread him?

  “Liam, do you think Director Jameson really had something to do with all this?”

  Liam shrugged as he maneuvered a turn. “I don’t trust anyone at this point.”

  Val had said the same thing. She couldn’t trust anyone.

  “Jameson was accused of stealing opioids when he was a med tech. He’s certainly had access to them as a physician. And both Gloria Inman and Leon Brittles died with suspicious amounts of opioids in their systems.”

  Peyton gasped. “Leon had opioids in his system?”

  “Yes, heroin,” Liam answered. “But no evidence of abuse.”

  Peyton’s eyes pinched into a frown. “Leon didn’t do drugs. He hated that he had to take blood pressure medication.”

  “He was murdered,” Liam said.

  Emotions churned inside Peyton.

  The suggestion that opioids might be at the crux of the situation surrounding the hospital and suspicious deaths reminded her of Val again.

  She checked her phone for a message from her sister as Liam parked at the hospital and they climbed from his vehicle.

  Where was Val now?

  * * *

  LIAM STOOD OUTSIDE Mrs. Weiss’s door as Peyton rushed in to see her. There had been no change in her mother’s condition. Peyton looked forlorn as she seated herself beside her mother, stroked her
hand and spoke softly to her.

  His phone buzzed. Jacob. He connected. “Hey, brother.”

  “Morning. We found the vehicle that hit Peyton,” Jacob said. “It was an older black SUV, left in an abandoned field about twenty miles north of Whistler. I’ve had it towed in for processing, but the paint samples match what we found on Peyton’s car.”

  “Who owns it?”

  “That’s the interesting part,” Jacob said. “Originally it was registered to Lydia Corgin. No record of it being sold after her death or a change of name on the title. So, either it was stolen, or someone who knew her took the car.”

  “Did she leave the car to someone in her will?” Liam asked.

  “I didn’t find a record of a will.”

  Liam mulled over that fact. “But if she signed her life insurance over to a third party, that party could have taken the vehicle.”

  “True.”

  “Keep at it. Hopefully we’ll get prints or forensics inside the car to tell us who was behind the wheel.”

  He hung up, then joined the deputy who was seated outside Mrs. Weiss’s door in front of the hallway computer station.

  “Anything happening here?” Liam asked Deputy Rowan.

  The deputy shook his head. “Just the medical staff checking vitals, that sort of thing.”

  “You haven’t seen Brantley or Conrad?”

  “No,” he answered. “The director of Golden Gardens came by early this morning,” Deputy Rowan said. “He showed me his ID, said he was just checking on Mrs. Weiss, that he had a soft spot for her.”

  Liam’s breath tightened in his chest. “Director Jameson was here?”

  “Yeah.” The deputy frowned. “Is that a problem?”

  “It might be.” Liam debated whether or not to voice his concerns to Peyton. Instead he motioned for the head nurse to step into the alcove with him.

  “I need you to run a full blood panel and tox screen on Mrs. Weiss.”

  “Is something wrong?”