The Sex On Beach Book Club (9 page)

“I need to go let the cleaners into my store. They're going to be there at one. Then I need to check on Monty and do a few other things. How about we meet around six?”

Once again, she was struck by how little she knew about Wes. She didn't like the feeling that he was keeping something from her, especially when she was busting her butt to help him—for the doubled fee, of course. “What other things do you have to do? You have something more important than finding the murderer?”

He grinned. “Monty. He's important.”

Uh-huh. And he was trying to distract her. “After you check on the dog—which, by the way, is why I don't have a dog—what are you doing then?”

“Don't get all huffy on me, I'm not seeing another woman.” Wes stood up. “So we'll meet at six. My place?”

Holly stood up and faced him. “Did I say anything about another woman? Rein in your ego, book boy. You can sleep with all the women you want, what I want to know is what you're trying to keep a secret.” It was all she could do not to poke him in the chest. Okay, so his “other woman” comment had pissed her off.

His green eyes got serious. “It's just a promise I made to some people. Nothing to do with the case, I swear.”

What was she going to do, hook him up to a lie detector? He was paying her the money whether he screwed up the case or not. She waved her hand. “Whatever, I have some work to do anyway. Go.”

Wes reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. “Nope, I can't feel it.” He looked into her eyes. “But I know I heard that chip on your shoulder snarking at me.”

“Haha, you are so funny.” He
was
kind of funny but she wasn't going to feed his ego by admitting it.

He ran his hands down her arms. “What I am is done being interrupted when I get you alone. Tonight we'll track down every clue we can, then we're going back to my house. Your brothers won't find us there.”

She could feel the heat coming off him. Or was that her? It felt like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs. “Pretty sure of yourself there, Brockman.”

His smile was wolfish. “You want me almost as much as I want you, Hill
baby
.”

“Don't—”

He cut her off by molding his mouth to hers. Then he stood up. “Six
P
.
M
., Holly. Don't be late.” He headed toward the door.

The fog of lust cleared enough for her to remember an important detail. “Hey, Wes.”

He turned at the door. “Miss me already?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Haven't you forgotten something?”

Confusion creased his forehead.

Holly laughed. She wasn't the only one baffled by this raging lust between them. She grabbed her purse and said, “Your car is at my house.”

Realization dawned on him. “Damn.”

A little bit later, Holly dropped him at his car. She watched him get into his black Range Rover. Her cell phone rang just as he started his car. Getting the phone out of her purse, she answered with, “Hillbay.”

“Nice touch to send your brother to charm me, Hillbay.”

“Rodgers.” Holly repressed a grin. As she watched Wes pull away, she said, “I can't help it if you fall for a pretty face.” She tried not to gag at calling her brother that.

“Yeah? Seth tells me you and Brockman looked pretty cozy last night.”

“He's a client.” The memory of him pulling her against his chest, putting his fingers inside of her, heated up the car. What was it about him?

There was a beat of silence.

Holly's heart stuttered. Rodgers wasn't calling to harass her over siccing Seth on her. What did she want?

“Wes Brockman only existed until three years ago. Then nothing. Nada.”

Her heart picked up speed and slammed against her chest. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“He's not the killer.” Shit. She wanted to thunk her head on the steering wheel for saying that. It was some kind of reflex she didn't entirely understand.

“As it happens, I don't think so either. No gunshot residue on him, or the clothes we analyzed. We looked through his house yesterday with his permission. Nothing. Either he's innocent or he hired a hit.”

Tightening her fingers around the cell phone, a heavy weight settled in Holly's chest.
Who was Wes Brockman and what did he have to do with the murder?

W
es pulled up to the park and saw George waiting for him. He had spent the last few hours in the store doing some work while the cleaners did what they could to remove the blood and gore of murder from his meeting room. He spent much of that time declining comments to the media over the phone and keeping them out of his store. But seeing George with the team baseball cap pulled down low on his head, expensive shaded glasses, and overall I'm-a-badass demeanor cracked his gloomy mood. He grinned as he got out of the car. “Good, my assistant coach is here.”

A bark brought George's head up. “What the hell is that?”

Wes pocketed his keys, then leaned back in and scooped up the puppy. “This is Monty.”

George stared at him. “A dog? You brought a dog to practice?”

“Yes.” Wes headed to the back of the Range Rover to start unloading equipment. A baseball rolled out and Monty fell all over himself trying to chase it. Laughing, Wes turned and fished out a tennis ball. “Monty!”

The dog turned and looked at him.

Wes lobbed the ball at him. Monty tried to catch it but missed. The tennis ball bounced and Monty barked happily and chased down the ball.

“A dog,” George announced again. “Do you really think the boys are going to pay attention to baseball practice if there's a puppy around?”

Wes turned to George. “If they don't want to run laps, they will.” The boys all knew that Wes was a tough Little League coach, and they respected his rules. Seeing George's serious expression, he said, “Relax. The kids will be fine. They love playing baseball. They can play with Monty after practice.” Wes handed him a bucket of balls.

George's expression remained stern. “I have news.”

Wes's grin died and he looked around. Normally five or six kids were already at the field and rushed up to help unload. He didn't see anyone. Monty came loping up with the tennis ball in his mouth. Looking back to George, Wes said, “Yeah? What news?”

George dropped his chin and looked over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were dark pools of trouble. “Bart Gaines was murdered in prison last year.”

Wes gripped a bat, holding onto something familiar. Bart Gaines was the catalyst that had sent Wes's life straight to hell. And Wes was the reason Bart had been in prison.

He looked down at the bat in his hand. For years, Wes had been a top sports agent at Apex Sports Agency in Los Angeles. He had represented major league baseball players, many of them high-dollar stars. Bart had been a sports fitness trainer, and Wes had sent many of his clients to him. Wes had discovered that Bart was doping players with anabolic steroids after one of Wes's baseball players died. Pulling himself back to the present, Wes leaned down and picked up the ball that Monty was dancing and barking around. He threw the ball and said, “Who killed him?”

“Mob.”

“Fuck.” Adrenalin rushed his body and buzzed his nerves. To get some relief, he hefted the bat into a batter's grip and swung. Again and again as his mind sorted through the information. Finally, he dropped the bat to one hand. “How would the mob get into my store? Why kill Cullen? Are the mob and Cullen's murder even connected?” All these questions had been beating at him for days. That was why he'd hired Holly, to find out. But somehow it hadn't seemed really possible. Until now.

George said, “I can't find any connection between Cullen Vail and the mob.” He shook his head. “It's not adding up. I don't think it's the mob. The only reason they went after you in the beginning was to keep you from testifying against Bart.”

“Because Bart and Apex had the stronger connections to the mob. And once law enforcement tugged that thread, it all came tumbling down.” Wes hadn't been the real threat to the mob—hell, he hadn't even known the mob was connected to Apex until after he'd contacted the DEA about his suspicions that the trainer was giving the players steroids. Wes stared blankly at the equipment in the back of his car. “So Bart squealed?”

George bent over, picked up the ball Monty brought back, and tossed it. “Yep. All kinds of indictments for the gambling and doping. You know Apex was destroyed.”

He nodded, feeling another stab of guilt. He hadn't been there to guide his clients, help them find another agent. He felt like he had abandoned them. But he had been more afraid the mob would kill him or his sister in revenge once he testified. He said, “Then who is behind the murder of Cullen? Holly was leaning toward either a pissed off lover, or someone from his past that he swindled. He had a record.”

George was watching Monty as the puppy tried to skid to a stop by the ball, but ended up tumbling over his big paws. “It wasn't a crime of passion, not with that professional double shot, one to the head and one to the chest. Someone had some training.”

“But Cullen is only connected to me through the book club.” He agreed with Holly in that respect, since Cullen was a book club member, and the murder was committed in the meeting room.

Two cars pulled up, distracting him from his train of thought. He was surprised to see Holly's white Maxima. She was supposed to meet him at his house at six. How had she found him? Dumb question, she was a private investigator.

The other car belonged to Nora Jacobson. Four boys spilled out, rushed up to say hello and grab equipment to set up practice. Wes glanced at his watch. Five minutes after four, and only four boys had arrived so far?

Monty came running back with the ball in his mouth.

“Coach, you have a dog? Cool! Can he come with us while we set up?” Nora's son Ryan asked.

Wes nodded.

George turned and herded the boys and dog out to the field.

“Hi, Wes.” Nora walked up wearing a pair of jeans and a beige T-shirt.

She looked like Sally Field from the movie
Norma Rae
. But unlike the woman from the movie, Nora tended to be quiet and slightly timid. She owned a bakery and he could personally vouch for her cakes. “Hi, Nora. It looks like we're going to be late getting started today.” He glanced around, catching sight of Ryan and the other three boys arranging the equipment. Monty thought it was a cool game and raced around them with the tennis ball hanging out of his mouth.

Nora followed his gaze, then she pushed a loose strand of hair back into her ponytail. “Uh, I don't think any more boys are coming today.”

Wes noticed that Holly had gotten out of her car and walked up behind Nora. She stayed quiet. Absorbing Nora's statement, he waited until she finally met his gaze. “Why is that?”

She played with her hair, then locked her hands together in front of her. “Some of the parents have heard rumors. You know, the murder. They, uh, they just…”

A cold feeling iced his gut. “What rumors?”

“Love triangle,” she mumbled, looking at his right shoulder.

“
What?
” What love triangle?

Nora stepped back. “I tried to tell them…I mean, I don't believe it. Most of the parents have been calling me all day since they know I'm the team mom and that I go to your book club. They're hearing rumors that you and Cullen fought over a married woman and you killed him. I know it's a lie! I told the parents, and the police when they came to my bakery today, that it's a lie!”

Getting himself under control, he said, “Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. I just don't know what that means, Nora. I haven't even dated in months.” His gaze slid up to Holly.

She stared at him with a hard, impassive expression. He couldn't read her and a chill loneliness rolled through him. What was she doing here? Had she followed him? Maybe she didn't believe him after all?

He looked back at Nora. “Who is spreading these rumors?”

She flushed and tugged at her shirt while staring at the hem. “Don't know. It's just going around. Everyone is edgy.”

Holly stepped up beside Nora. “Hi, Nora. I'm Holly. Remember me from the book club?”

Nora turned to her, looking a little surprised. “Yes, sure.”

Holly smiled. “I'm a private investigator working on this case. I'd like to ask you some questions.”

The flush drained, leaving her skin white and strained against her dark hair. She looked around and shuffled back a bit. “Oh no, I can't, that is, I don't have time. I told the police everything. I have to go back to work.” She glanced at him. “I'll pick Ryan up at—”

Her words were drowned out by the screech of tires as an oversized Hummer roared into the parking lot and swung to a stop at an angle. The motor kept running as a large man jumped out. He stormed up to Nora and leaned into her threateningly. “What do you think you're doing bringing Josh here? I don't want my son around this adulterous, murdering son of a bitch!”

“Hey.” Wes stepped between them, literally pushing Nora to the side, closer to Holly. “You have a problem with me, talk to me. Don't yell at Nora. She was just doing you a favor like she does every week by giving Josh a ride.” His temper shot up into the high scoring zone.

“Get out of my face, Brockman.”

Wes didn't know Josh's dad's name, although he recognized him from some games the man occasionally showed up for. “You want to take Josh home, then do it. But don't upset the other boys or cause trouble.”

His face got red. “
You
leave. You're not coaching these kids. We've heard all about your sleazy little games.” He grabbed Wes's shirt. “And if I find out you've messed with my wife—”

Wes felt his temper crack, but struggled to hold on because he figured the boys could see them. “Get your hands off of me.”

The man snarled, “Tell me! Did you mess with my wife?” He shoved Wes back against the Range Rover.

Wes bounced off the rear of the car and came back ready. He measured the guy at about six feet and two hundred fifty pounds of furious testosterone.

The guy took a step, drawing back his right fist.

Wes went in low and shoved his fist into the guy's gut.

“Ooof.” He doubled over.

Wes's ears rang with pumping rage. He wanted to slam the prick into the ground and make him eat dirt.

Then he remembered the kids.

Trying to control his temper, Wes stepped back and gave the man room. “Leave.” He could barely get the word out. Sucking in air to counter the effects of the adrenaline coursing through him, he added, “Don't make this worse. Take Josh and leave.”

The other man straightened up. “Cops are gonna fry your balls anyway.” He stormed to the field.

Wes turned around and saw that George had moved the kids behind the dugout to throw the ball for Monty, preventing them from seeing the scene. At least one thing went right.

Nora said, “I better take the other boys home.”

Wes looked at her. “Nora, do you know anything about this? What was Cullen doing that got him killed?”

She shook her head, sidestepping toward the field. “No. Nothing.”

Holly started to follow her. “You dated him, Nora. What are you hiding?”

“I can't help you. I don't know anything!”

Holly didn't let up. She walked closer. “Where did you tell the police you were after the meeting Tuesday night?”

Nora stopped scooting away to turn and face Holly. “Helene, Maggie, and I went to dinner, then they came to my house and we watched
The Notebook
. It was after midnight when Helene and Maggie left. I told the police all this. Now I have to go.” She turned her back on Holly and jogged across the field.

Wes stared after her. Nora was a single mom who worked hard, and she was team mom for their baseball team. She tended to be quiet and he could understand why she was spooked. Especially since Josh's dad just got in her face.

But it still felt like he was losing another friend.

“Hey, coach, you gonna reschedule?” Ryan asked as he stuffed some of the gear back into Wes's car, while holding Monty under one arm.

Wes took note of Josh's dad hustling him into the Hummer. Josh was a nice kid, a good outfielder. Too bad his dad was an asshole. Looking back at Ryan, Wes took the equipment and set it in the back of his car, then slung his arm around the boy's shoulder. “Sure, Ryan. I'll call your mom and we'll figure it out. In the meantime, you keep working on your swing.” Ryan was raw, but he had some real muscle in his swing. He could be a powerhouse slugger one day.

The boy looked up at Wes with his mom's big brown eyes. “Yeah, I will. Coach, I'm sorry about that guy in your bookstore.”

“Us, too.” The other two boys stored the rest of the gear.

Wes and the boys all loved baseball, and that had formed a bond between them. When he was on the field with the boys, he felt more at home than he had anywhere else in a long time. All he could say was, “Thanks, guys.”

Ryan held out Monty, who dropped his ball in an effort to lick the boy's face. Laughing, Ryan pushed Monty's face away and said, “Rad dog. Wish we could have one.”