Sweet Revenge

Chapter 12

Matt finished delivering another round of drinks to some college kids home for the weekend, his gaze again turning toward the group of bikers at the far pool table. They were having a good time and seemed like decent guys. He glanced at his watch, surprised how the night had flown by. He’d need to make a move while the bar remained busy, and now was the time.

He’d questioned Laney a bit more about Greg after the pharmacist had stomped out of the bar, discovering the guy lived in one of the houses scattered a few blocks away in an older subdivision. A quick flip through of the local phone book, and he’d found an actual address. Small towns—no real security. There was something off about the guy, and since Greg supposedly was at some Elks dance, now was the time for Matt to investigate.

Tossing the tray across the bar, he gave Smitty the high sign. “I need to make a phone call—be back in a few.”

Smitty nodded, his attention remaining on a woman sitting at the bar chatting with him. The gal had to be about fifty, and wore heavy blue makeup, which enhanced her sparkling brown eyes.

Laney was in the kitchen scaring up some pizzas for the crowd, so Matt slipped out the back door and jogged down the sweet-smelling alley. He kept to the shadows, his senses tuned in to the night.

Greg lived in an unassuming white cottage with overgrown grass and weeds. Apparently the guy didn’t like lawn work. Matt glanced around the quiet neighborhood and then quickly vaulted over a rickety fence to the backyard. Weeds and crumbled bricks made an odd pathway to a sliding glass door. He drew on leather gloves and tried the door. It was unlocked.

What the hell was it with people who didn’t lock their doors? While even an excellent lock was only a minor deterrent, still, it was something.

Matt slipped inside and waited for his eyes to accustom themselves to the dim light. No sounds echoed in the house—no breathing, no heartbeats. Good. Greg was out somewhere. A dog barked in the far distance, and wolves mourned in the hills.

He used his phone as a flashlight to search the kitchen drawers. Old bills, parking tickets, and lottery tickets crammed the drawers full. A cursory glance at the living room illustrated leather chairs and yellowed newspapers. Continuing through the house, Matt trod lightly over scratched wooden floors and headed down a narrow hallway. The smell of copper hit him just as his foot slipped.

His gloves smacked the wall to keep him from going down.

Regaining his balance, he reached behind himself and shut the hallway door before flipping on the light, already knowing what he’d find. A large puddle of blood now held his perfect footprint. Arterial spray decorated the wall, which showed the shape of his hand.

Damn it all to hell.

His mind needed to get back into the game. He tugged off his boot and stepped over the blood and beyond a small bathroom into the home’s sole bedroom, which had been torn apart. The body had been tossed on the floor in a heap. Dropping to his haunches, Matt leaned close. No heartbeat.

Greg’s blue eyes were open in horror and death. His hands revealed no bruising or defensive wounds. The guy hadn’t seen it coming.

Matt straightened and surveyed the room. Drawers had been yanked from dressers, the contents spilled. His attention jerked to the photographs spread across the bed. All black-and-white, and all of Laney. Had Greg been stalking her? They were all simple printouts, probably from a home computer. A desk sat in the corner without a computer or printer. Had the killer taken them? If so, why?

He glanced at his watch. Damn it—he needed to get back to the bar. After he erased any sign of his presence.

The cleanup took about five minutes, and he tried to leave the crime scene as close to untouched as possible. He paused as he surveyed the pictures. They showed Laney at the bar, around town, even through the window of her apartment. The digital camera or phone that had been used to take them was missing, as was the computer that had printed them out.

Fury filled him, and he wasted precious moments shoving it down.

Taking the pictures was a risk to him, and so was leaving them at the crime scene. The murderer had obviously rifled through them, and the sheriff knew Matt was sleeping with Laney. Since Greg had dated her, Matt would already be a suspect in Greg’s death. The pictures of Laney would focus the sheriff on Laney, and in turn, the cop would take a closer look at Matt. He couldn’t afford a closer look right now.

Without the pictures, Greg was just a dork who’d taken Laney to dinner once. With the pictures, Greg was more than that—an intense stalker who may have gone too far, or who may have seen something he shouldn’t have.

Matt needed to take the photographs, just to buy himself more time.

So he gathered the pictures together, tucked them at the back of his shirt, and quickly exited the house, careful not to come in contact with any more blood. Once outside, he jogged down the street before replacing his boot on his foot. He’d cleaned the bottom with bleach, but he wouldn’t mind giving it another soaking soon.

Sticking to alleys and the darkness, he arrived at the back of the bar just as his phone rang. He glanced down at the face and then answered. “Hi, Nate.”

“Hi. What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” Oh, hell. The Southern accent gave him away.

“What the fuck is going on?” Nate asked, his voice dropping to a growl.

The outside door opened, and Laney stuck her face out. “You’re still on the phone? You’ve been gone almost thirty minutes.”

Actually, it was closer to an hour, but maybe she hadn’t seen him leave. He gave her the high sign that he’d be finished in a minute. She rolled her eyes and disappeared again.

Man, she was cute. But he needed to step back and fully focus on Tasha to confirm she used to be Dr. Peters.

“A lot is going on, but I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later,” Matt said.

“Wait. I paid a visit to the loan shark,” Nate muttered.

“Good. Did he take the money?” At least that was one less item to worry about.

“No. In fact, Joe-Joe said he’d already been paid in full.” A police siren sounded through the line.

Matt straightened. “Where are you?”

“Downtown Philly. No worries.”

His mind focused automatically, as they’d been trained. “When was the loan shark paid?”

“Apparently a cashier’s check arrived every month, just like clockwork, until the entire loan and compounded interest were paid in full. Took over a year,” Nate said. “I questioned him, but the guy had no clue who’d sent the checks.”

“Where was the postmark from?”

“Dunno, but he said he’d look through his old files to see if he’d kept an envelope, though he doubted he did. I told him I’d pay for the envelope if he finds one, so he’s inspired. I’ll check in with him tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Matt said. Who the hell would’ve paid off the loan shark? Laney didn’t know anything about it, or she wouldn’t still be lying low. Her brother was killed right after they’d taken out the loan, but maybe he’d had a friend with money? But if so, why not borrow from the friend and not a loan shark? None of this made any sense, and he had the oddest feeling that Laney was keeping something from him. What frightened her so? “I swear, the longer I stay in this town, the more bizarre everything becomes.”

“Do you need to be extracted?” Nate asked.

“No.”

“Do you need backup?”

“Not yet.” If things kept going downhill, he might need help. “Wait to hear from Joe-Joe, and then get back to chasing down Jory’s last location. If we’re ever to find out what happened to our brother, we need to know where they killed him.”

“Shot him. Where they shot him,” Nate said.

Matt closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Nate—”

“No. Until I see a body, my brother isn’t dead.”

Matt nodded. “Fair enough.” When they found Jory’s body, Nate was going to fall apart. Matt would have to figure out a way to put him back together. But for now, he had enough to deal with. “Check in tomorrow.” He ended the phone call and quickly dialed Shane.

“What?” Shane asked after a series of clicks.

Matt leaned against the brick wall. “I’m calling for updates.”

“Betty Newcomb checks out. I found her cult—nice group of people it seems. The family practitioner also checks out—I dug up her father’s records and traced her whole life. She’s allergic to nuts and most deodorants.”

Only Shane would find that interesting. Matt shook his head. “What about Dr. Tasha Friedan?”

“She’s full of shit. The name has only been used for six years… Before that, she didn’t exist. Wherever she bought the new identification owes her money back—it’s a bad cover.”

Adrenaline flowed through Matt’s veins. “I knew it was her. Okay, before I take her, I need a breakdown of where she’s been since leaving the compound. Everything.”

“You got it. Anything else?”

He should say no. But his instincts were humming, and that meant something. If Laney was in trouble, he needed to help her while he still could. “I want you to run a background check on Laney Jacobs,” Matt said slowly.

“Already ran a surface check, and she seems all right.”

Matt drew in a breath and eyed the door, gathering his thoughts. His shoulders went back. “Go deeper. I want to know everything.” He clicked off and headed back into the bar.

After closing, Laney stepped around the snoring cat and set the pool cues back in the wall mount, her gaze on Matt as he finished cleaning bleach off his boots. The guy had accidentally spilled the bucket while mopping. “You don’t seem like a clumsy man.”

He plopped the mop in the bucket. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

Laney nodded. He’d been distant and preoccupied all evening. Unease and embarrassment filtered through her. She’d slept with a guy she’d just met. Did he think she was easy? Surely he felt some of the same emotions she felt while they’d been together. “Did your phone call upset you?”

“No.” He rolled the moving bucket to the back room, returning and eyeing the room. “We’re all cleaned up.”

“Yes.” She swallowed, a humming tickling her abdomen. She barely knew him, they didn’t have a relationship, and she wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, um, I guess I’ll head up since we need to start early tomorrow.”

“Laney.” His low timbre wafted across the room as he focused on her. “I’m sorry I’ve been short tonight. It’s just, I don’t like what’s going on here. With the notes and Claire’s murder.”

She tilted her head. “Me, either.”

Lazy strides maneuvered him around the tables, where he wrapped his hands around her waist. Two seconds later, she sat on the bar, her legs on either side of his hips. “If you’re in trouble, you can trust me.”

“I-I know.” He’d lifted her so easily, the power in his body intriguing her. Setting her blood on fire. They only had a short time together, and real trust wasn’t something she did. “You don’t have to worry about me.” Frankly, it wasn’t his place. But the need to protect seemed to be ingrained in the man, and something deep in her wanted to jump right into that strength. To keep herself from doing so, she slid both hands through his thick hair.

His eyebrow rose.

She leaned forward to brush his lips with hers. They had one more night together, and she wanted it. She wanted him.

His smile against her mouth warmed her throughout and made her dream. He levered away, at the same time tugging her closer and tilting her hips until he pressed against the apex of her legs.

He grinned, already hard and throbbing against her sex. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“I’m just trying to enjoy the moment,” she murmured. Finally, a truth she could give him. “Life is short and apparently getting more dangerous. Moments count.”

His lids dropped to half-mast. “Moments count,” he repeated, licking his lips. A hard edge still lived in his eyes, which revealed none of this thoughts. He seemed even further away than usual. “I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”

“Are you going to tell me what else is bothering you?” she asked softly.

“Life in general, sweetheart.” He smoothly lifted her from the bar and waited until she’d tightened her thighs against his before heading to the stairs. “For one thing, I appreciate when my lover is honest with me.”

Her body instinctively stilled. She dropped her hands to his shoulders so she could meet his eyes. “I’m not lying.”

“The hell you aren’t.” His smile held both charm and challenge. “I’ve been trained by the best to discern shades of truth, and you’re not being completely honest.”

Terror stilled her limbs. “Completely honest? About what? Not that it matters. You’re temporary, and as such, you don’t get a free pass into my life.”

His eyes darkened, his hands flexing. “The money for the bar. I don’t know how, but that’s the key to the notes and recent murders.”

“Murders?” What the hell was he talking about?

“Murder,” he growled. “Though I expect more bodies soon, considering the notes were sent to both you and Claire—probably to other women in town, too.” He smoothly unlocked his apartment door, having them inside within seconds. “Considering my sleeping with you makes me a suspect, I want the truth.”

She kept his gaze. “I told you the truth.” Her stomach lurched as she lied her ass off.

His chin lifted as his hands dropped to cup her butt. “Try again.”

Heat cascaded from his palms, and her eyes wanted to roll back in her head. “Put me down.” She so did not mean those words.

“No.” Her back hit the wall, held in place by a body harder than any other surface in the room. “You’re not moving until you tell me the truth.” He slid his lips along her jaw, sending her senses reeling.

They had too many clothes on. She sighed, arching into his touch. “I knew you were a throwback Neanderthal the first night I met you, but this is ridiculous. Put me down, or I’ll scream,” she said. Even though anger threatened to swamp her, desire slid through her blood.

“Go ahead.”

Damn it. She didn’t want anybody to come running, and he knew it. He had her legs secured, so she couldn’t kick him. They were too close for her to get in a good punch, and he wasn’t taking her seriously. So she levered back and went for his eyes.

His head jerked back, his hand instantly manacling her wrists. A grin flashed across his face. “Did you just try to poke my eyes out?”

She struggled in his grasp, her sex rubbing against his pulsing shaft, even through their clothing. “I saw the move on an episode of Bones.”

“Bones.” His smile widened, even as he lifted her arms above her head, pressing them against the wall.

Her back arched, her nipples scraping against his chest. She bit back a groan. This was pissing her off, not turning her on. Heat spiraled through her body and proved her a liar. Raw need clawed through her abdomen. What was wrong with her? His show of dominance should be a splash of cold water on her desire, not a freaking accelerant. Besides, she knew deep down it wasn’t a show. Not at all. “I promise my bar has nothing to do with the notes.”

He angled closer, his eyes right above hers. For several quiet seconds, he studied her. “You knew.”

She swallowed and fought the urge to rip off his shirt. “Knew what?”

“That the loan was paid off,” he drawled.

She frowned and tried to ignore the hard length of him pressed against her. “Do you have an accent?”

“No.”

Sounded like a Southern accent for a moment. She shook her head, her mind scrambling, her body rioting for relief. “What are you talking about? The loan was never paid off.”

A muscle visibly spasmed in his jaw as his gaze dropped to her needy breasts. “Stop lying.”

“Fine.” She relaxed against him. “I won’t lie. Now mind your own fucking business.” That was the second time she’d used the f word in the last few days. She never swore.

His head jerked back. “You’ve made this my business.”

“No, I haven’t.” Wait a minute. “Why do you think the loan was paid off?” How had he found out?

“I had a colleague of mine meet with Joe-Joe the loan shark.”

Heat drained from her face. “Why would you do that?”

“To help you out before I left town.”

Damn, damn, damn. She shook her head. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I like you.” The words rang true, but the pissed tone of voice didn’t reassure her much. “I wanted to help.”

She took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m sure your heart is in the right place, but I don’t want your help.”

He blinked, and erotic tension filled the room. “Fine. Who paid off the loan shark?”

She held his gaze and tried to put an apology in her eyes, telling him the less he knew about her past, the safer he’d stay, wouldn’t help with a guy like him. “I can’t tell you. Please, let it go.”

For once, his feelings showed on his face. A combination of regret and relief. “So we agree we’re limited.”

She nodded. “We both need to understand the temporary nature of our, ah, relationship.” She gyrated against him, appeased by the quick flare of hunger that lightened his odd eyes to a determined gray.

“Fair enough.” Something in the tone hinted he wasn’t finished with his search for the truth. “Promise if you need help, you’ll ask.”

“I promise.” Yeah, she lied again, and by the flare of irritation across his face, he knew it.

His mouth slammed down on hers. Firm and angry, he kissed her hard, his body against hers and his hand holding her wrists captive. He was a storm, fully unleashed.

Thank God. Finally.

Desire crashed through her, weakening her muscles and shutting down her mind. She should get the hell away from this guy. Even so, she pressed against him, a whimper lodging in her throat.

At the sound, he gentled. Slow, soft, the kiss turned devastating. Hot and sweet, he drugged her with his taste, making her want. Making her hunger.

Maybe one more night together. Then she’d end it. She’d have to.

He finally released her wrists and strode toward the bedroom, his mouth working hers the entire time until he set her on the bed. Gentle hands tugged her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra to toss across the room.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze warm and his tone lazy.

She needed to tell him the truth. “Matt, I—”

“Shh.” His hand flattened across her upper chest and pushed. “You said we have this, and I want it. I want tonight.”

She fell back on the bed, her mind reeling. One night. Okay. One night.

He leaned over her, his mouth wandering from her neck, down between her breasts, to the clasp of her jeans. He unhooked it with talented teeth, and seconds later, her pants and underwear flew across the room. Her heart clutched, and her legs trembled. She’d never be able to find all of her clothes in the morning.

Her breath caught in her throat as he stood, so tall and formidable, fully dressed.

She was completely nude—vulnerable and feminine.

He yanked his shirt off, the dim light showing hard muscles and old wounds. She reached for him. He shook his head, desire and wonder creasing his cheeks in a soft smile. “Let me play, Laney. Let me show you what you do to me.” A flash of teeth provided erotic warning before he dropped to his knees and his mouth found her.