Weddings Can Be Murder (26 page)

Crap!

His focus shifted to her spread legs. She slammed her thighs together and yanked at the toilet paper roll for a few squares. But before she could give herself a one-swipe wipe, he’d climbed out of the tub and had the door blocked. She hit the flusher and popped up.

She glared at him. “Let me by.”

He shook his head. “Not until you listen to me.”

“I don’t care to hear anything you have to say.

“I was an asshole. A piece of shit.”

She nodded. “Go on.”

“See? I do have something to say you want to hear.”

He leaned against the bathroom counter. She eyed the space between him and the door and made a run for it.

He snagged her around her waist and they fell against the wall. One of them must have hit the light switch, because darkness fell. Sweet darkness. Katie’s breath hitched.

“Kind of brings back memories, doesn’t it?” he asked, and drew her a little closer.

“Bad memories,” she lied, and tried to pull away, but he held her. She heard the bathroom door shut. “What are you doing?”

“I just want to talk to you.” His hand moved over her hip. That wasn’t talking.

“Why were you sleeping in the bathtub?” She reached back to stop him from touching her, and in doing so she brushed her breasts across his chest. Plea sure shot through her, up and down and all over her body. Her nipples became instantly tight. She heard him inhale and knew he’d felt them.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” he said. “I was waiting for you.”

“In the bathtub?”

“I thought about the floor in the hall, but knew you’d see me and shut the door. I thought about the sofa, but I knew you’d hear me coming and run back in the bedroom. I considered just standing in the bathroom, but you might have made it back to the bedroom before I caught you. Then it occurred to me that if I caught you on the pot, you were too much of a lady to run before you wiped.” He chuckled. “And I was right, too.”

“I see no humor in that,” she snapped.

“I guess it’s a man thing.” He almost grinned.

She tried to pull away again, but his arm tightened. Not too tight. She knew all she’d have to do was yell out for Mr. Hades and he would rescue her. And Carl had to know that, too. Which meant, he knew she wanted to be here. To be in his arms, against his chest, in the dark.

“You hurt me,” she said, fighting the intimacy of the darkness that surrounded them.

“I know. And I’m really, really sorry.” He pressed his lips to her temple. It was a sweet kiss. A simple kiss. A test to see if she might let him do it again. “I don’t have a good excuse either. Except I was…I was scared.”

She listened and knew he’d spoken the truth. His hand
slid down her back to the curve of her bottom. His slow touch moving over the silk felt like a warm breath on her bare skin.

“Scared of what?” she asked.

“Of you. You scare me, Red.”

“How do I scare you?” She sighed when his fingers started slowly inching up under her nightshirt, touching bare skin.

“In every way there is. The way you make me feel. The way I get instantly hard when I look at you.” He jutted out his pelvis just to let her see what he meant. “The way your smile makes me melt inside. The way I don’t mind wearing pink or eating quiche that really tastes like crap, the way I wish I had matching wineglasses to serve you in. The way I felt to night when I saw you in another man’s arms.” He kissed her neck. “Tell me you’re not going back to Joe.”

“I’m not.” She moved her head back to give him better access. His lips trailed a path down her throat as his palm made an upward sweep to her naked breasts.

“Got any bathroom chores we can do?” he asked.

She ran her hand over the bulge behind his zipper.

“Oh, yes, touch me, Red.” He unzipped his pants and eased her hand inside. She wrapped her fingers around him, the pulsing heat of him making her want him inside her right then. She tightened her fist around him and said as much.

His mouth covered hers. His hand moved from her breasts to between her thighs. He slipped two fingers inside her. Then, before she knew what had happened, he’d picked her up and was carrying her down the hall.

He laid her on the bed and pulled at her nightshirt. The silk whispered up and over her body. Then he shucked off his pants and shirt and came down on top of her. His penis probed between her legs. He jutted his hips out an inch, just an inch, and the round tip of him entered her, but then he pulled out. He kept teasing her,
giving her only the slightest bit of him, then taking it away.

“I want all of you.” She jutted her hips and took every inch of him inside her. Then she wrapped her legs around him and began to move for him, with him. And they rode the hot wave of passion together. The words
I
love you
lay on her tongue. She barely managed to hold them back as the plea sure exploded.

She knew the moment he came because his body became a rock of tight muscle. He fell to the side of her, their bodies still joined. Then his body tensed again, his muscles turned hard.

“Shit! Fuck!” He rolled off her so fast, Katie gasped.

“What?” she asked.

“I didn’t use a condom.” He sat up, put his feet on the floor, and dropped his face into his palms. “This is why you scare me, Red. I can’t think! I fucking never forget to use a condom.”

Katie froze. His language, his tone. Like an eraser, it wiped away all the wonderful and left the naked truth.

“Are you on anything?” he bit out, not even looking at her.

The naked truth
. If she got pregnant he’d feel obligated to marry her, or at the least to act as a father.

Katie pulled her knees up to her chest. She recalled the mismatched daisy knife and rose fork during their lunch at the diner. Carl Hades and Katie Ray were just like that restaurant’s cutlery; they didn’t belong together.

“I’m on the pill.” The ache in her chest doubled. “But pregnancy isn’t the only thing we need to be worried about.”

He looked over his shoulder. “I’m clean.”

“As if you had a blood test just last week.” Right then, she saw the bedroom door was standing wide open. They had made love in his father’s house with the door open. Embarrassment had her yanking a blanket to cover herself.

“No, like I had a blood test since I’ve been with anyone.”

She waved toward the door. “You’ve got to go.”

His gaze shot to the door. “Shit!” He scrambled out of bed and closed it.

“Leave, Carl. Please, leave.” She rolled over, not wanting him to see her tears—and she really needed to cry. She stared at the wall, feeling the knot grow in her throat. She heard him breathing. Not moving.

The bed shifted as he slipped in beside her. “I did it again, didn’t I? I acted like a bastard.” He touched her shoulder and his touch sent shards of pain to her heart.

“This isn’t going to work, Carl. You know that,” she managed to say, but the words came out with the sound of pain.

He pressed his face into her hair and wrapped his arms around her middle. “And that’s the biggest reason you scare me,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ll hurt you, and I can’t stand that thought.” He got up. She heard him gathering his clothes.

She heard him move for the door. His footsteps stopped.

“Did Ben tell you that we think we got the guy?” he asked.

Got what guy?
Then she remembered. Odd, how easy it was to forget one was being hunted by a serial killer. “No.”

“You should be able to go home soon.”

“Good.” She closed her eyes and realized what he was saying. That soon they’d be out of each other’s lives.

He walked out, and Katie buried her face into the pillow and cried. It didn’t help when she told herself she’d be okay because she’d survived losing her entire family. She knew that. She was just so damn tired of losing people she loved.

The next morning, Carl stood behind his brother.

“You fucking can’t do this!” Edwards growled.

“Yes, we fucking can.” Ben pushed his way inside Edwards’s home and shoved the copy of the search warrant in his face. Ben had done Carl the big favor of letting him come along, with threats that if Carl said or did anything, he’d send him packing. Or arrest him.

So, biting his tongue, Carl stood back. He watched his old peers tear through Edwards’s place searching for evidence—any piece of evidence would do. Anything that would help put the creep away. Anything to make sure he never laid a finger on Red.

Carl watched Edwards pace back and forth like an angry child. Carl’s hands itched to get involved. His fist itched to teach Edwards a few lessons.

Carl hadn’t seen the victims, but from the disrespectful way his old peers tossed Edwards’s things, all of the guys here had. The thought that Edwards wanted to hurt Red in that way had acid pooling in the pit of Carl’s stomach.

Someone bumped into a table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. Edwards took a defensive step toward the officer, and Carl and two other officers swung around, all hoping he’d do it: give them a reason to go at him.

Edwards, not as stupid as he was pissed off, stopped.

For the next hour, Carl watched the SOB pace. Back. Forth. He watched him bite back threats, but what Carl didn’t see him do was get worried. Not once. And that worried Carl. Someone yelled out something from the bedroom. Carl moved in to hear, but didn’t catch it. Ben walked out, the frustration etched on his face telling Carl that what ever they’d found, it wasn’t enough.

“Just some photos that prove Edwards and Jones were acquainted.” Ben’s disappointed expression explained more than his words had.

Carl reached back and rubbed his shoulder and shot Edwards another glance. “He’s not worried, Ben. Either he’s already gotten rid of the evidence or he doesn’t have a reason to worry.”

“He lied to us about his relationship with Tabitha. We
can put him at Katie’s house. He has to be our man, damn it!”

“I want to believe it, too,” Carl said.

“But you don’t?” Ben snapped.

Someone in the garage let out a victory whoop, then Carl watched as a young hom i cide detective came strutting out. Hanging from his gloved finger was a 9 mm Smith & Wesson, just the type of gun suspected of killing Tabitha Jones.

Carl had never been so happy to be wrong in his whole life.

That afternoon, Carl stood behind the mirrored glass as Ben questioned Edwards. They had their man. So why was it that Carl still didn’t feel satisfied? Could it be that he just wasn’t ready for it to be over? Because Katie would leave his dad’s apartment, leave Carl’s life forever?

Edwards pounded his fist on the table. “That’s not my gun! Yes, I was fucking her. She’d fuck anyone.” The man’s lawyer put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but he knocked it off. There was no calming Edwards.

Ben spoke up. “And you just decided to lie to us about your relationship when I questioned you the first time?”

“If I’d told you I was seeing her—”

“And you lied to us about the flowers you took to Miss Ray.”

“I explained that. I knew Tabitha had been the one to fire me. I thought I’d send the bride-to-be flowers, hoping she’d change her mind and show Tabitha…”

Carl stood there and listened to the man protest his innocence.

Ten minutes later, Ben left the room. “He’s not giving it up,” he said.

“Maybe he hasn’t got anything to give,” Carl answered.

Ben cut him a sharp look. “We got the fucking gun. What do you want—a video of him doing the killings?”

Carl shook his head. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, it will feel a lot better as soon we get the green light to arrest his ass.”

“What are you waiting for?” Carl asked.

“DA wants to make sure the gun is a match.”

“So you’re going to let him walk out of here? What if he goes after Red?”

“Oh, now you think he did it!” Ben frowned. “We don’t have a choice, Carl. Until this is resolved, just make sure she stays with Dad.”

“I’ll probably see you guys tomorrow,” Carl said, and walked out his dad’s door.

Probably
. Katie watched him go and pulled the hot cocoa to her lips. The last week had passed, each day much like the other. Les would come over in the afternoon and they’d rent chick flicks and make Mr. Hades watch them. Afterward, he would make her and Les play poker with him. “Girl time for boy time,” he bargained.

After poker, she and Les would crash on the bed and talk. Katie told Les about the whole bathtub and sex fiasco, and about what seemed to be their mutual agreement not to pursue things. Les insisted they were throwing in the towel way too soon. But when Katie asked about her plans with Joe, Les said only that she wasn’t ready, and the talk ended.

In the mornings, Tami would stop by and they would all sit around laughing and telling Ben-and-Carl stories. Little Ben and Katie had bonded. She taught him how to make paper airplanes and they would hold competitions. Katie even got good at pretending she wasn’t hurting.

Carl had stopped by every day, too—short visits, as if he couldn’t stand to stay away. Yet when he got there, he couldn’t stand to stay. He was always nice; he never got too close. Sometimes she’d catch him studying her as if he wanted to say something, but he never said it. And neither did she.

And she knew that was best. But sometimes being in
the same room with him and not being close enough to inhale his scent, to touch him, was pure torture. She told herself to stop thinking about what she didn’t have and just be glad she got to see him at all. Because come next week, if they arrested Jack Edwards, she’d probably never see Carl Hades again. Probably. It was a word she hated but was getting used to.

“You okay?” Mr. Hades studied her, and when he sat down, his weight jarred the sofa and her cocoa almost spilled.

“Fine.” She sipped from her cup, barely tasting the sweetness.

He reached over and patted her arm. “You two are breaking this old man’s heart.”

Katie smiled. “Please, we both know you don’t have a heart to break.”

They laughed, and he hugged her. Then Katie parked her cocoa in the kitchen sink and went to her bedroom and cried.

Carl didn’t come over again for the next three days, and crying herself to sleep became a ritual. She would eventually get over him. Probably.

The next Wednesday at lunch, Mr. Hades announced he had a hot date with Jessie, whom Katie had met several times, and he asked if Katie minded going to Carl’s for the evening.

Katie minded. Carl obviously didn’t want to see her, and afraid Mr. Hades might ask Carl to come here, she improvised. She called Tami and asked if she and Benny would babysit her. Of course Tami had agreed, but only if Katie would help her with some decorating ideas.

“So, you think yellow paint?” Tami pointed to the living room wall.

“Mom?” Benny, dropped off from the car pool, came running into the house and tossed his backpack on the sofa. When Benny saw Katie, he broke out into a big
little-boy smile and ran over and hugged her. Katie’s heart did a big-girl squeeze when his arms went around her neck.

“Can we make airplanes?” he squealed.

“You betcha!” Katie said.

He pulled back and looked at her. “I like you a lot better than Amy. I’m glad Amy left Uncle Carl.”

Katie’s heart did another squeeze. “Well, I like you better than any other little boy.” And right then it hit her, she’d not only fallen in love with Carl, she’d fallen for his family, too.

Benny scrunched up his face. “I’m not little. I’m five.”

“Oh, I forgot.” She stared into his soft brown eyes, so much like his uncle’s. For just a second she wondered, if Carl and she had created a child, would it have looked like Benny?

Tami piped up. “Why don’t you go work at your computer on the spelling game while Katie and I cook dinner?”

“But we’re going to make airplanes,” Benny whined.

“You can make airplanes after dinner,” Tami said. “Go.”

Benny whimpered but obeyed. As Katie followed Tami into the kitchen, she felt obliged to say, “I’ll do anything you ask, but I have to warn you, I seriously suck at cooking.”

“Not at my type of cooking you won’t,” Tami said.

“Please! I’ve heard nothing but praise about your cooking since I’ve been staying at your father-in-law’s place. Your pies, your homemade breads, your homemade pasta sauces.”

Tami grinned. “Which is why I must have you swear on…on a stack of cookbooks that what happens in my kitchen, stays in my kitchen.” She pulled out a cookbook from one of the shelves and slammed it on the kitchen table. “Come on.”

Smirking, Katie put her hand down on the book. “I solemnly swear on a stack of cookbooks.”

“Good. Now that we got that covered, look in the pantry, way back in the back, and pull out the bottled spaghetti sauce.”

Katie laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I kid you not, girlfriend! You see, when I was dating Ben, they had been eating their dad’s cooking, which was so bad that they thought the canned beanie weenies I served were gourmet.” Tami pulled out a pot from under the cabinet. “Anyway, the praise felt so good I actually took cooking lessons.”

“Ahh, so you can cook?” Katie found the sauce that really was hidden way in the back of the cupboard.

“Well, let’s say I managed to put together a few meals. You’d have thought those Hades men died and went to heaven.” She filled the pot with water. “But as much as I loved all their praise, I learned some truth about myself. I hate cooking.” Laughing, Tami put the water on to boil. “So, I started experimenting with what you might call quick-fix meals. And frankly, dear, I found Ragu can make as good a sauce as I can. And the day I found out that Mr. Dough Boy made a pie crust better than mine, I practically”—she lowered her voice—“offered him a blow job.” She grinned. “Grab me the cherry pie filling from the bottom shelf.”

“You are such a phony,” Katie teased.

“Remember, you’ve sworn on a stack of cookbooks.”

A few minutes later, as Katie made the salad, Tami shot her an unsure glance. “You know Benny was right, don’t you?”

Katie looked up. “Right about what?” Her gaze caught on the family photo hanging over the phone. The image of the three of them, Ben, Tami, and Benny, sitting on a blanket at some park, drew Katie’s eye. She wanted that. Family.

“You’re much better than Amy.”

Katie and Tami hadn’t spoken about Carl or the problematic
relationship, and Katie had decided that it was best. She didn’t want to pull his family into their issues.

“So, Ragu is as good as homemade, huh?” Katie focused on the tomato sauce and not on the unanswered remark hanging heavy in the air.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Tami said.

“Looks can be deceiving.” Jumping subjects again, she asked, “So, Ben really doesn’t know you use canned sauce?”

Tami didn’t go for the ploy. “He’s not a bad guy, Katie. He was hurt. First by his mom and then by Amy.”

“His mom?” Okay, now it was Katie plowing right into a subject. “I thought…he seemed to love her a lot.”

“He did. She had cancer. The treatments worked in the beginning, but it came back, twice. The last time it was really bad. My father-in-law, he…he’s stubborn, really stubborn, and he just wouldn’t accept that it couldn’t be fixed. He signed her up for all these last-ditch efforts. And she was tired.”