Devil's Kiss (8 page)

He relents, pulling me back toward him. I kiss him softly on the mouth, then tuck my head under his chin. Now I’m really exhausted. I feel the rise and fall of our breath sync up just before I fall asleep.

I ring the doorbell of the colonial house. Without the police databases at my fingertips, it’s taken me a while to track down Olive’s mother. Plus, it turns out she just moved into this small, blue house with some boyfriend. Finally, I hear footsteps approaching. The wreath on the front door wobbles a little as the door opens a crack.

“Yes?” the woman asks. I recognize Olive’s eyes immediately in her face, though her hair has a reddish tint to it.

“Are you Christine Corder?” I ask authoritatively.

“Yes...” she answers more warily, looking me over.

I take my wallet out of my back pocket and flash my badge quickly. Not my real badge, of course. That was taken from me. This is just a cheap knockoff I bought downtown. A nice sports jacket and my personal revolver strapped to my hip completes my look. I can’t believe it’s come to this—I’ve had to put a costume together to be a cop.

“I’m Detective Stan Carbee. May I come in for a moment, ma’am?” I ask politely. I haven’t talked to Stan since we fought on the steps of the courthouse, though he’s left me plenty of messages. I never met Olive’s mom, but she might have told her my name, so I figure it can’t hurt to use my former partner’s.

“Oh, yes, come right in,” she says, opening the door all the way and gesturing me inside. I glance around as I follow her into a sitting room off the foyer. Christine’s done well for herself, it seems.

“Is everything all right?” she asks worriedly, sitting on the edge of an armchair. I take a seat across from her on a sofa, unbuttoning my jacket.

“Everything’s fine, Mrs. Corder,” I reply.

“Ms.,” she corrects me.

“My apologies, Ms. Corder,” I say, “As you probably know, your daughter filed a complaint with the police department concerning an officer who was bothering her by the name of Richard Lees.”

“Yes, he was stalking her,” she says, nodding. I bristle slightly at her word choice, but obviously can’t correct her.

“Right,” I say shortly, “Well, we’re just conducting some interviews, trying to get a clear picture of what happened for a department review.”

“Oh, OK. I’ll help anyway I can,” she replies, smoothing her khakis. Olive never described her mother as a housewife type, but she seems to fit the bill. Or maybe it’s just an act for the new boyfriend.

I take a notebook and pen out of my jacket pocket. I have to be careful with this next part, because I don’t want her to know that all I want is Olive’s current location. I’m sure the actual police already have that information.

“So, how would you describe your daughter’s feelings toward Lees?” I ask. The woman frowns. Shit. Feelings wasn’t the right word.

“Feelings?” she asks quizzically, “Well, she was frightened of him, of course. And angry.”

“Of course,” I murmur sympathetically. “What happened was just terrible.”

“It really was. I mean, she had to move clear across the country to get away from that fucker!” she says, her voice rising in anger, losing her composure. This is more like the Christine that Olive described.

“Right, across the country, that is unfortunate.” Where does she mean, California? I don’t want to push it. “Did you ever meet Richard Lees?”

“No, I didn’t. I wish I had, too. I have a strong intuition about men and I would have set her straight about him before things got out of control.”

I have to swallow hard to keep from laughing.

“And do you know if Lees has tried to make any contact with Olive since she filed the complaint?” I go on.

“Can’t you ask her that?” Christine replies, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, we have,” I assure her, “But sometimes, the victims in these things, they’re scared, they don’t want to stir up any more trouble...We just want to verify that he’s really leaving her alone. It’s important to the department.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” she sighs, “Because really the most shocking thing to know was that he’s a cop, you know? And I know not everyone trusts the police, but I always did, and I still do. There’s a bad apple in every bunch.”

“That’s very true.” Just keep her talking. “Well, I’m glad she’s safe now.”

“Oh, yes. Her brother won’t let anything happen to her,” she nods.

I frown. Her brother? She never mentioned a brother.

“Yes, her brother. It’s good she has him around. They’re very close, yes?” I ask innocently.

“Oh, yes,” she says, “Even when we moved away from West Clayton when she was young, they stayed close.”

Bingo. Might as well get as much information as I can. “And what does he do, Olive’s brother?”

“Oh, he’s a sort of accountant,” she says, waving her hand vaguely. Huh. I wonder why Olive never mentioned this brother of hers. An accountant sounds innocuous enough.

“Right,” I say, “Well, it’s good that he’ll be living close by.”

“More than close by,” she says.

“Sorry?” I ask.

“Well, living in the same house is a little more than ‘close by’, don’t you think?” she goes on.

“Yes,” I reply, “You’re right, of course. Well, we’ll send someone out from the Vegas sheriff’s department to follow up with both Olive and her brother, then.”

“Wonderful,” Christine smiles.

“Oh, let me just verify the address, just in case.” I make a show out of flipping through my notepad, and then checking through all of my pockets. “Oh, jeez, I seem to have left the address in my other notebook.” I frown and rub my face. “Sorry, the missus just had a baby and our sleep schedules have just been all over the place. I can’t seem to keep track of anything lately, not that my Captain understands...”

Christine clucks sympathetically. “Oh, that’s such a shame. Olive was colicky as a baby, so I completely understand. Why don’t I just write down the address for you?”

“Oh, would you? That would be a real help,” I say, handing her the pen and notebook.

“Sure, no problem,” she says. And just like that, she writes down her daughter’s address.

“Well, thanks very much for your time, Ms. Corder,” I say, as she hands back the notebook.

“That’s it?” she asks.

“Yep, just routine questions, really,” I reply, tucking the notebook and pen back in my pocket as I stand. I glance toward the mantelpiece as I turn to leave, where a row of family portraits sit. “Oh, is that Olive?” I ask, walking toward a portrait of her.

“Oh, yes, that’s her,” Christine says warmly, “Her high school graduation.”

“Mmm. Pretty girl,” I observe, “You look just alike.”

“Oh, well, that’s sweet.” Christine smiles up at me, and I find myself staring at her lips, so similar to Olive’s. “Well, I can show you to the door.”

“Great, thanks,” I say.

She walks me to the front door and opens it for me. “Please let me know what happens to that Lees guy,” she says, “I hope he gets what he deserves.”

I turn to smile at her from the front steps. “Oh, I will,” I tell her. “Don’t worry about that.”

I shift in bed as a twinge of soreness awakens me. I frown, confused, moving my legs back and forth as I half-consciously try to figure out what’s caused this feeling. Before I can come to any conclusions, the culprit snakes his arm around my waist. I smile as West spoons me against his naked body. Oh, right.

The soft morning light shines around the sides of the closed curtains as I blink sleepily. In the sunlight, a creeping anxiety begins in my stomach even as West’s body warms my skin. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. West doesn’t know how to have a relationship. My brother would completely freak out if he knew what happened last night. He’s off doing something dangerous while his best friend and his sister are sneaking around behind his back. I interlace my fingers with West’s where they droop over the side of my waist.

“Well. Good morning,” I say. I feel him hardening again at the sound of my voice. For god’s sake...I need to speak quickly. “I think we should talk about last night.”

“Mmhm,” he murmurs, and begins kissing my neck.

“I just think that it was a bad idea,” I go on.

“Very bad idea,” he echoes, taking my breast in his hand. He tweaks my nipple, and I feel an immediate wetness between my legs. Must...focus.

“I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work,” I whisper. “We need to just be friends. That’s it.”

“And yet you’re not going anywhere...” he observes, sliding his hand down my stomach to—oh my. I take a deep breath to keep from gasping as his fingers come to rest against my clit.

“Well, maybe we could do this for a little while,” I breathe, “Just, you know, we have to be clear about what we’re doing, here.” God, it’s impossible to think straight as pleasure overwhelms my brain.

“It’s important to be precise,” he whispers, his fingers sliding inside me, pressing up against my g-spot.

“You are making this very difficult...” I murmur, gripping the underside of my pillow as I struggle to form words.

“Am I?” he whispers innocently. I feel him shift a little behind me and hear the rip of a condom.

“OK, OK,” I say, trying to gather my thoughts, aching to feel him inside me again. “Just until Stick comes back, alright? Then we have to stop. That’s it. Deal?”

“Deal,” he whispers in my ear. The heat of his breath sends a tingle throughout my body.

I feel the tip of his huge dick flush against my slit. He takes me by the hips and holds me steady as he enters me. I gasp as sensation reverberates through me. West groans as he slides into me. He rubs my clit, he drives his cock all the way inside of me. I clench my legs together to create more pressure around his member. I feel his mouth against my neck, his stubble brushing my skin.

“West...you feel so fucking good...” I moan.

He rolls me onto my stomach so that I’m on my hands and knees. He grabs my hips and pounds into me, ramming straight into my core.

“Fuck!” he moans, as I cry out wordlessly

He has complete control over my body, pulling me back onto his huge cock. I groan every time he thrusts in. He picks up the pace, and I arch my back. I feel his hand slip between my ass cheeks, where one finger slips inside—

“Oh!” I gasp at the new sensation and brace my hips against him as my orgasm builds. My vision swims as pleasure overwhelms me. I lose control of my body, hear sounds of bliss coming from my mouth as though they’re being made by someone else.

West comes with a loud, guttural groan. We collapse onto the mattress, completely spent. I feel his body relax on top of mine, his huge frame covering me completely. He reaches for my hands, and interlaces his fingers with mine.

We lie for a while like this, I don’t know how long. His body is heavy, but comforting on top of mine. Finally he sits up, kneeling between my open legs. I blush as he looks openly at my body, and I cover my eyes with my hand. He runs his hand down from my sternum to my stomach.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, uncomfortable under his gaze.

“I’m just admiring you,” he says with a little smile.

“Admiring me? Oh, god...” I say, rolling my eyes.

“What? Don’t you know how beautiful you are, Tiny?”

“OK, you definitely cannot call me ‘Tiny’ anymore, especially when I’m naked,” I reply, sitting up and pulling myself toward the edge of the bed. “You want breakfast?” I ask as I stand up and grab my robe.

“Yeah. I got some sausage from the butcher shop we should try.” He gets up and grabs his clothes, which are still in a heap on the floor. He walks toward the door with the bundle in his hands, still naked.

“Hey—” I say, about to stop him. “Oh, right. You live here. I forgot. Weird.”

He smiles at me and disappears down the hallway. I pull on my slippers and run my hands through my hair to smooth down the mess, then make my way to the kitchen. I start on the eggs and heat up a skillet for West. He joins me at the stove, wearing an old pair of jeans and no shirt, and cooks the sausage. We stand in an easy silence, then bring our food into the living room. We sit at opposite ends of the couch, facing each other.

“You hear anything from Stick?” I ask.

“Not yet,” he says, “They’re probably still on the road, so I won’t for a while. Don’t worry, he’s got good men with him. You working tonight?”

“Yeah, four to close,” I reply.

“OK, text me a little while before you want me to pick you up,” he says.

“You don’t have to pick me up, you know. Now that’s Stick’s not here, I mean. I can drive myself,” I inform him.

“Nah, Stick would kill me if I didn’t pick you up,” he says.

“You really think
that’s
what Stick would be mad about?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

“Oh, right,” he winces. We both guiltily push our food around on our plates as we think about Stick.

“He doesn’t have any right to tell me who I can sleep with,” I point out.

“I know...but it still doesn’t feel right,” West replies.

“He has a blind spot when it comes to you,” I say, “I mean, he was so worried about everyone else trying to sleep with me, but he never thought about you.”

“You’re making it worse.” he says.

“Oh, sorry, I guess I am,” I grin sheepishly. “It’s just funny, I mean...”

“That he trusts me implicitly?” West asks. “That he wouldn’t think he has to say, ‘Hey West, please don’t sleep with my little sister behind my back?’”

“OK, it doesn’t look good, I’ll grant you that,” I allow, “But what he’s really worried about, what he’s always been worried about, is that someone’s going to hurt me, and that’s not going to happen here. We have an agreement. This is just for the next couple weeks, then it’s done. No mess.”

“You’re right. Hurry up and finish eating,” he orders me.

“Why?” I ask with a frown.

“If we’ve only got two weeks, I’ve gotta fuck you at least twice more today before you go to work,” he says with his familiar smirk.

I stare at him for a moment, my mouth open. I set my unfinished plate aside and meet West’s intent gaze.

“All done,” I grin.