I duck my head, sinking my teeth into her neck, right over the pulse. It throbs against my tongue as I knead her flesh. Her fingers work around the back of my head, drawing me closer.
Fuck. She’s so tight. So wet. She feels so good. Too good.
Rocky’s body tightens, squeezing my length as she comes, and I follow right behind. She slumps onto the counter, panting hard. I lean against her back, now damp with sweat, trying to catch my breath as well.
“Good morning,” I say.
A burst of laughter leaves her lips and I revel in the melody. “It’s actually afternoon,” she corrects.
I glance over at the clock. “Shit.” I reluctantly pull out of her warmth. “I’m supposed to meet Augie at the gym.”
Her gaze moves over me with appreciation as she turns. She raises her arms over head, stretching. Her breasts rise, pushing out with the movement, and damn if I don’t want to take her against the counter again.
“Go ahead. I’ll soak in the bath while you’re gone, if you don’t mind.”
I’m slow to answer because I’m still staring at her tits, fighting against the urge to bury myself right back inside her. I shake my head. “No. Get dressed. You’re coming with me.” I point at my chest. “Shadow, remember?”
Her lips pucker as if she’s not happy about it, but she doesn’t fight me. “Fine. But you owe me a bath.”
She brushes past, heading for the bedroom. I watch the swing of her hips like a teenaged boy just noticing girls for the first time. “I’ll bathe you myself when we get back,” I call after her.
Six
Rocky
I don’t know if it’s because our sex bubble burst once we had to put our clothes on and go outside, but Link hasn’t spoken a single word since we left his house. He lives just minutes from the gym, so it isn’t a long silence, but it’s a little uncomfortable. I guess I can’t complain. I’m the one who thought talking was overrated.
I can’t stop stealing hidden glances at him. This man who has healed a piece of me that I was certain would be broken for the rest of my life.
Sculpted cheeks and full pink lips. Thick eyebrows the same color as his hair. Dark stubble lining his cheeks, chin, and down onto his throat. I shiver unexpectedly, recalling how his shadowed face felt between my legs, on my breasts, and against my neck.
I have the strongest desire to trail my hands over his face, to connect our hands, to kiss him. I press my fingers into my palms, my nails biting into my skin as I stifle the urge. I peer over at him again and wonder what exactly he wants from me. Because I’m beginning to want things from him.
Link parks in his usual spot and cuts the ignition. The silence grows louder with the loss of the rumbling engine. He turns his body to face me, his leg resting on the seat, and I arch an inquisitive brow.
His eyes move over my features as if he’s trying to memorize each one. His long fingers tap against his jeans in a muted rhythm. This is another new side to him. Hesitant and unsure. His reluctance makes my stomach flip with nerves.
“I need to tell Augie some of what’s going on. I want an extra set of eyes on the place—and you.” He pauses and it’s clear he isn’t finished. I wait, watching him choose his next words. “But…he doesn’t know what I’ve been doing. He doesn’t know I’ve been…looking for the men that killed Liv, or that I’ve found them, or that I’ve been picking them off one at a time.”
He gaze falls away and he sighs. I can see the guilt and shame eating at him as if it’s painted vividly across his forehead. I have no idea how or if I could ease it, but I want to, and that is both fascinating and confusing.
“And I think we should talk to your brother, too,” he continues. “He should know what’s going on.”
Now I sigh, echoing his previous frustration. I love my brother—probably more than I’ve ever loved anyone. He’s one of the greatest men I know. He would do anything for me. He’d be vigilant and protective if I explained the cowboy’s connection to Link. He’d do anything and everything he could to keep us all safe. That’s exactly why I don’t want to involve him in this.
“I don’t want to tell Joe,” I say. “He’s been hovering enough as it is. And it’s still your plan to find this guy—to kill him?”
Link nods tightly. His teeth are clenched, causing the muscles to pulsate in his cheeks.
“Then it’s better if my brother doesn’t know more than he already does.”
“Okay,” he agrees, but I pick up on the averse tone to his voice. He doesn’t have to agree with me. He doesn’t even have to like it. He just needs to respect my wishes.
“Okay,” I repeat, pushing my door open and sliding out of the car.
Link rounds his side quickly and places his hand on my waist, his fingers splayed across the bare skin between my jeans and shirt. He draws me into his firm chest, resting his chin on top of my head. I inhale deeply, filling my senses with his scent, and then I hear him do the same.
“How would you feel about taking a few extra self-defense classes?” He doesn’t release me and his chin bumps my head with each word. I can feel my hair catching on his day’s worth of rough whiskers that I adore so much.
I huff out a feigned groan of protest. “Extra classes?”
“One-on-one,” he amends. “Just you and me.”
I smile, trying to lift my head to look at him. He holds me tighter, not allowing me to pull away. “I think I could handle that.”
He steps back then, grinning. “Good. We’ll start tomorrow.”
“Why not tonight?”
He pauses, his lips pressing into a straight line. “I’m going to check out the bars you’ve seen Bates in.” And then he takes my hand, entwining our fingers. I’m surprised by the gesture, rooted in place as he starts for the door.
Link glances back at me when I don’t move, my eyes shifting from our joined hands to his face. He looks down as if just noticing what he’s done, and mimics my stunned silence.
I feel his fingers flex between mine as if he isn’t sure whether to squeeze tighter or let go. It’s such a small act. I’m sure most people wouldn’t think much of it, but it’s personal. Intimate in a way that sex isn’t. We could both use sex as a tool—something to take our minds off of the memories weighing us down. Sex is a basic instinct. It feels good. It produces endorphins. And endorphins relieve pain. Physical. Emotional. It’s human nature. A primal need met. It’s fundamental. Essential.
But handholding is a choice. A choice to be close. Familiar. Friendly. And so many more possibilities that I’m not ready to explore.
I look up in time to meet his eyes, full of the same questions I’m sure are reflected in mine. Link offers me a small smile. He releases my hand as he opens the door, leaving all of the questions untouched.
Seven
Link
My cell phone rings just as Rocky and I walk into the gym. I pull it from my pocket, fully expecting to send the call to voicemail. I stare at Byers’ name on the screen, my phone continuing to ring in my hand. A burst of adrenaline rockets through my limbs, causing them to feel heavy and shaky.
The last time he called me changed my life.
I finally press the button and raise the cell to my ear. “Hello?”
“Linken, Detective Byers. I need you to come down to the station. There’s been a development in your case.”
I can’t respond. Several beats go by before I agree to head over there. My mind’s stuck on one question.
What does he know?
***
I left Rocky at the gym under Augie’s watch. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him like I wanted, but I made it clear the cowboy could still be a threat.
Now I’m making my way through the police station to meet with Byers. Over the past four years, I’ve come to like the older detective. He’s always been patient with my weekly phone calls, and he’s never given up on the case¸ though the few leads he’d had back then have since run cold.
My stride falters jus
t a few feet from his desk. I realize I haven’t called him since the day I came in for the lineup. I didn’t need to ask him if he’d found the men responsible for killing Liv when I had one in my sights and one locked in my basement.
I fucked up. Again. I should have kept up on the calls.
Byers spins in his chair, noticing me. He scoops up a file from his desk and nods his head toward the hallway. I follow, my eyes automatically fixing on the file tapping against his thigh with each step.
He opens a door leading into a small room with a table and chairs. He takes a seat and gestures for me to do the same. And then he opens the file.
“I have a possible lead on your case,” he says, his gaze directed at the papers in front of him. Copies of newspaper clippings. Articles about Olivia and me.
The articles from Morrison’s house.
On the outside I remain impassive, slipping my mask of indifference into place. On the inside I’m raging. I’m furious with myself. Pissed that I could be so fucking stupid.
Why didn’t I take the box of articles?
Why did I leave them there?
I knew someone would find Morrison eventually. How could I walk out of that house and not bother to pick up the one thing tying him to Livie? Tying him to me.
I grit my teeth, fighting against the anger begging to unleash itself. I want to slam my fists on the table. Go toe-to-toe with the brick wall. Break every fucking thing in this room.
Byers is a smart man. If he hasn’t done it already, he’s going to find the connection between Morrison and Woods—the same way I did. And then, it’s only a matter of time before he finds the rest.
And I won’t be able to make them pay for what they did.
If they end up walking away free, that’s it. Rocky’s still in danger. And Liv never gets justice.
I blink, coming out of my thoughts, and meet Byers’ gaze. I hold it, trying to prove I have nothing to hide. I have no clue what he sees—what his years of experience have taught him to look for. But he looks away first, sliding the file across the table until it’s directly in front of me. I rifle through the pages, looking at each one.
“The body of Steve Morrison was found this morning. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Does it mean anything to me? I almost laugh. My hands pause, gripping a sheet so tightly it crinkles between my fingers. That name means more to me than I can ever put into words. Hate. Loss. Death. Murder. Regret. Fear. Pain.
“No, nothing,” I say. “Who is he?”
Byers leans back into the chair and shakes his head. “As far as we know, a local computer programmer.”
“I don’t understand,” I say returning my attention to the file. I’m fishing, trying to find out exactly how much he knows without coming right out and asking.
“Morrison had these articles about you and Olivia.” He nods at the manila folder. “He had a box full of them sitting on the coffee table, just a few feet from his body.”
I don’t know how to respond to his statement. Instead, I begin flipping through the stack of papers again as I try to determine what I would say if I didn’t already know this information.
“You know,” Byers says conversationally, “you haven’t asked me why he had these articles. Or how he died.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and meet his steady gaze. That’s what I would have asked if I didn’t already know this information.
I don’t reply.
Byers folds his hands behind his head, watching me. “Suicide. Single gunshot to the head. He didn’t leave a note. Just the box of these articles.”
“And you think he might be one of the men from that night?” I ask, my voice carefully controlled.
“That’s my suspicion.” He pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket and sets it on top of the open file. I stare down at it, wondering why he kept this particular paper separate from the others. I almost don’t want to unfold it, but that’s exactly why I do.
It’s a copy of Morrison’s driver’s license.
“Do you recognize him?”
If I say yes, this ruins everything. Four years of planning my revenge dies with one admission. If I say no and Byers puts it together on his own—which he will—I’ll never be able to finish.
Unless I move quickly.
I press my lips together and shake my head. “I’ve never seen him before.”
Eight
Rocky
Link insisted I stay at his house while he goes to Sticks to look for the cowboy. It feels weird being in his house without him. I search his cupboards for any form of alcohol, but come up empty handed.
I’m tempted to walk over to Bo’s and buy something to bring back, but that didn’t go so well the last time I tried it. A shiver skates down my back with the memory. I close my eyes and try to push away the shame I feel. I let a rapist and murderer go down on me. One of Link’s girlfriend’s rapists and murderers. One of Link’s attempted murderers.
Being alone and sober leaves too much time to think.
I don’t know how he can touch me knowing.
How isn’t he repulsed by me?
I’m disgusted with myself.
Unable to sit with my thoughts any longer, I take Link’s laptop off the desk in the corner and do a search on Garrett Marshall. Twitter and Facebook options pop up immediately. Below those are a few local stories covering the “alleged rape.” And then beneath all of that are images of different Garrett Marshalls.
One catches my eye immediately. He stares back at me with the same eyes I see in my nightmares. My stomach rolls and I swallow back bile. I snap the laptop closed and shove it away.
I hear a car door close outside. I stand, moving toward the window just as someone knocks on the front door. I peer around the curtain. I don’t recognize the car or the blonde-haired woman standing on Link’s porch, so I don’t know if I should answer the door.
The woman knocks again and I flip the lock, pulling the door open.
Her dark-green eyes widen in surprise when she sees me, obviously expecting Link. Her brow crinkles in confusion. “Is Link home?” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, the foot at the end of one of her long legs tapping impatiently.
“No. He went out for a little bit.” I want to ask her who she is, but I don’t. It’s not my business. Though I’m sure my insides are turning an obnoxious shade of putrid green with the explosion of jealousy I’m trying really hard to ignore.
She’s pretty. Very pretty. And the longer I have to stand here looking at her prettiness the more I’m starting to dislike her.
The woman holds her hand out with a smile. I take it hesitantly and she pumps my arm twice in a solid handshake. “I’m Lea. Link and I are old friends.”
“Rocky,” I say. “Link…” I trail off not knowing how to finish that sentence. What is Link to me? “Is my boss,” I finally finish.
“You work at the gym?”
I nod uncomfortably. “I’m his secretary.”
She returns the nod. “Oh, good. He’s been complaining about needing secretarial help for as long as I’ve known him.”
“Mm,” I agree.
“So,” she says, placing her hand on the door. “Can you just tell him I stopped by?”
I click my nails against the handle and nod. “I’ll let him know.”
Headlights swim across the doorway, temporarily blinding me as Link’s car pulls to a stop in the driveway. Lea glances over her shoulder, a sexy smile spreading across her face as he steps out, his attention falling directly on her.
I press my cheek into the wooden frame as Lea meets Link in the driveway. She leans in, wrapping her arms around his neck. She’s so tall she doesn’t need to balance on the tips of her toes to hug him like I do.
His hands land on her lower back, just inches from her ass, and I push away from the door. I go back to Link’s room, grab a pair of pajamas from my bag, and duck inside the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I run a bath, making it as ho
t as I can stand.
I don’t like this feeling. This melancholy, envious, anxiety descending over me like a polluted cloud. I don’t know how to stop it. But I really need it to go away.
I pause with my shirt halfway over my head. No. I know exactly how to get rid of it.
Once I wiggle my shirt back into place, I turn the water off, and put my bath on hold. It will be much more enjoyable with a glass of alcohol in my hand. I pass Link’s bedroom, the door now closed. My chest tightens and my stomach does another somersault. I can hear voices inside, verifying what I already assumed.
I pick up my purse from the counter and keep walking. I need to get away from here now because I can feel my eyes burning. I’m about to cry and there’s no way in hell I want Link and Lea to see.
Ugh. I roll my eyes. Even their names sound cute together.
Alcohol.
I need lots of alcohol.
Nine
Link
Lea sits on the end of my bed, watching me as I lean against the wall. This isn’t something I was prepared to deal with. Not today. Fuck. Not ever. I don’t know how to deal with it.
“The girl out there,” Lea murmurs, “she isn’t your secretary, is she?”
A laugh puffs between my lips. “Yeah, she actually is…” I rub the back of my neck, knowing I should add something more to that sentence, but not sure what exactly.
“Is she also your girlfriend?”
I shake my head, but don’t answer right away. I can’t put Rocky into a category. It’s not that simple. There’s this whole gray area where she’s concerned. I’m bad for her. I know that. But I think she could be good for me.
I clear my throat. “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t know what we’re doing.” I suck in a long breath and release it slowly. “A part of me died with Olivia,” I rasp. “But sometimes it feels like Rocky’s breathing life back into me.”