Tracked by Trouble (Bad Boys Need Love, Too #3) (27 page)

Beck let out a garbled shriek.

Zed dropped the digit in the dirt. “Fuck. Do you think it’s Lawson’s? I don’t remember seeing him missing a finger but then I didn’t study his hands. I barely look at him.”

“He…he…he wore gloves in the treatment room. Some of the guys wear workout gloves but I found it odd since we were only putting him through legwork. I thought maybe he had scars on his hand. Some guys are self-conscious that way. They’ll come in with no legs and be worried if you see some kind of disfigurement on their hand.”

“Or no finger. Shit. Now that I think on it, I remember he wore gloves at the party Ma threw for him. I thought it part of his marine badass getup. Maybe…no. No way.” He stepped away from the evidence, his face awash with something like a freak-out revelation. “What if he
had
to retire? What if I did something making him lose his finger on that night and he returned to the military a damaged soldier? What if it affected his ability to kill? He’d want my head on a platter.”

He grabbed the back of his neck with his palm and paced in a circle before coming to a stop, huddling with Beck over the bones, peering down at them.

Beck stood with her hand pressed tightly to her mouth. Saliva trickled into her mouth as her body, repulsed by the finger, by the possibilities, by Lawson, threatened to respond the only way it knew how—vomit. Her lingering hangover didn’t help the situation. She willed herself to be logical, rational, to think, for God’s sake. “We don’t know anything at this point. Maybe it’s an animal bone like you said. Maybe we’re jumping to conclusions.”

“And maybe we’re not,” Zed said. “Shit.” He sank into a crouch, positioned over the bones. “Shit,” he said again. “Know anyone who does forensics? Isn’t that what they do on TV?”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Not that I know of.” She joined him in the crouch. “Are you getting anything back? Any memories?”

Zed shook his head. “Nothing. Same black hole. Except that I found this place. Shit,” he repeated. “Fucking hell.”

“Okay. Okay. We take the evidence with us. Do something with it, I don’t know; we’re not detectives or anything. We take the finger to the police.”

“And what?” Zed snapped. “They find out it’s Lawson’s, the decorated soldier’s finger, and accuse me of wrong doing?”

“I don’t know, we have to do
something
!” Beck wracked her brain for ideas. “Let’s take it, and think.”

Zed shook his head. “Bad idea.”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Beck volleyed.

“No. Goddamn.”

“Okay, then. We take it with us and figure it out as we go.” She picked up the biggest leaf she could find and wrapped it around the bones. Clutching the bundle tightly in her hand, she used her other hand to retrieve the keys from her jeans pocket. “Here. Pop the trunk.”

“Fuck, Beck, is that your best idea? Put my brother’s finger in the trunk?” He took the keys from her.

“I can’t think of a better one, can you?” She glared at him.

“This is a rental car, don’t forget.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, her mind racing. “Do you have anything in the car we can wrap it in?”

“Let’s look in the Toyota.” He stalked up the hill.

Beck had to practically trot to keep up with him.

Once he got close enough, he pressed the trunk open button. The trunk eased up.  He opened the passenger door and rummaged around. “Here’s the envelope stuffed with maps and crap the rental place gave me.” He waved it wildly at her.

“It will have to do. Put the contents somewhere,” she said, following him up the hill. She watched him dump the contents on the back seat. She held the digit like a radioactive specimen and tromped next to him. “Open it up.”

He did so, holding it open like a paper maw.

She dropped the aged finger in the envelope. “Okay,” she said, decisively, folding the paper twice to secure the bones inside, walking back to the trunk. “This will keep it from rolling around,” she said, wedging it underneath the gray mat inside the trunk. “Wait here.” She turned toward the hillside.

“Where are you going?” called Zed.

She lifted her hand in response and trotted toward the bumper. Once she had it in hand, she climbed back up the hill. “More evidence,” she said, waving it high, once she got close to Zed.

“Evidence of what? Have you lost your mind? I’m the one who wrecked the truck, don’t forget.”

“I know, but what if…” She felt a surge of sleuth-like excitement. “What if Lawson came after you. Hunted you. And you used the metal bumper to slice off his finger.”

“Jesus, Beck, you’re writing fiction now.” Zed’s face grew stony with evident judgment.

“Do you have any better theories, hot shot?” she snapped.

“No. Okay, toss it in the trunk and let’s go.”

They set off, Beck driving at a slightly less frenetic pace, heading down the hill.

“This is a stupid idea. We’re flying home tomorrow, don’t forget. It will have to go through the scanners at the airport. ‘Care to tell me what you need with a mangled piece of metal and these little bones, son?’” Zed pretended to be airport security.

“I just thought of that,” Beck said. “Our minds are connected.” She wiggled her fingers at his head. “Maybe we should leave the evidence here. We have no way of getting it tested and what good does it do? I think the evidence was for you and you alone as some sort of proof of what happened that night.”

Zed stroked his soul patch. “At least we can give it a proper burial. Remove it from the crime scene. Let’s pitch it off the cliff when we head back to the hotel. Gift it to the sea. Good riddance.”

“I could make a necklace out of the bones and wear it to the office. ‘Look what Zed gave me! He said he bought it in San Diego!’ Can you see Lawson’s face? He’d be apoplectic.”

“And you’d be dead. Hell, no to that idea. Maybe it was a worthwhile experiment, though. Maybe it will shake something loose.”  Zed pulled his phone free and stared at it, cursing. “I’m going to have to make up one whale of a story to let the grower know why we’re an hour late.”

“Oh, come on. Your flight was delayed. Traffic sucked. The hotel lost your reservation and you had to argue for a while. You’ll think of something. You’re smart that way.” She smirked.

“And you’re devious,” he said. “Okay, Ms. Tosetti, onward to the grower while I hem and haw over the phone.”

“Tosetti Drivers, at your service.” She gave him a crisp salute.

“Is this some kind of escort service? Any benefits come with it?” Zed looked at her with longing, his wicked tongue skimming his luscious lips.

She melted inside. “For you, baby, you get the full meal deal. Later…”

“Oh no. I have a few ideas to explore while you’re in the driver’s seat.”

“Such as?” Beck’s panties suddenly felt wet.

“All you have to do is drive, sweetheart. Pay attention to the road.”

“What will you do?” She licked her lips in anticipation.

“Oh, I’m going to see how much friction’s required to get you to come in a moving vehicle.”

“With what?”

He wiggled his fingers in her direction, leaning across the bench seat, and unzipping her pants. He pushed and wriggled his hand to her sex, smiling broadly when he reached his destination. “Oh, my, Ms. Tosetti. You’re wet.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “And you’re hard. Sweet baby Jesus, Zed. If this is what sleuthing does to you, let’s become detectives.”

He slid his hand free, sniffed his fingers and inserted them in his mouth, sucking and licking them. “Mm hmm,” he hummed, making her even hornier. “You’re my healing balm. I need to get all this crap out of my head.”

“Which head are we talking about?” She felt light-headed. Beck stopped at the stop sign, pulled on the parking brake and wriggled her jeans off her ass, glancing furtively in the rear view to make sure no one was behind her. “There you go, hot shot. Easier access.” She stepped on the pedal, smiling at the driver who pulled up to the four way stop. She even gave him a little wave for good measure. She laughed, seeing his mouth fall open as they drove by.

“Voyeur much?” he said, his mouth in a hard twist.

“A girl’s gotta show her delight in her man in one way or another.”

“By driving him nuts? I’m sure that guy’s pulling off the road to jerk off.”

Beck glanced at Zed’s face.

He seemed displeased, a dark scowl on his handsome face.

Knowing what she knew about his past, she said, “Baby, don’t be jealous. There’s only you for me, now and into the future.” She snuck a quick glance, taking a breath as his jaw relaxed.

“Where was I?”

Her legs opened wider. “Somewhere in the vicinity of my pussy.”

“Oh, yeah.” He licked his lips, and pushing aside her panties, slid his finger between her legs.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

“I like your response time.” He stroked her slippery flesh. “I like the way you light up when I touch you.”

“Don’t think I respond this way with anybody. Only you.” This statement seemed to arouse the hell out of him. In a few hot minutes, she clenched the wheel, and tried really hard to keep the car in the correct lane as her body exploded in orgasm.

At night, snuggled in bed, Zed’s beautiful cock still lingering inside her, his arms pulling her tightly to his firm body, Beck began drifting to sleep in the afterglow of climax and intimate connecting.

Earlier, Zed’s story to the growers had been only slightly far-fetched. He’d told the owner he’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in the hills outside of San Diego. They guy said, “No problem,” he hoped Zed would be late because he was running late.

After they finished there, they headed back to the hotel. Zed had traced and retraced his steps over and over and over until Beck thought he might explode with frustration. He’d gone up the stairs, down the stairs, up the elevator, paced throughout the garage but no memories surfaced.

“You can’t force it,” she said repeatedly. So, they ended up back in the room, ordered room service and made love. It wasn’t the out of this world sex she’d grown used to with him, but seemed to be more of a stress release for Zed. Whatever. As always, he’d been attentive to her needs, giving her another orgasm. And honestly, she’d love him through anything. There’d be more time for mind-blowing encounters.
Like in the car. Now that was hot.

“I want to tell you about San Francisco,” Zed murmured in her ear.

Sleep quickly fled from her body. “What?” Her eyes popped open, finding Zed’s deep blues trained on her face, his face somber and sincere.

“San Francisco. I want to tell you before I lose my nerve.” He rolled away from her, pulling free from inside her, plumped the pillows behind him and leaned against the headboard.

She sat up, doing the same. “There’s still a beer left in the mini-bar. Want me to fetch it for you?”

“Thanks, but no.” He wet his lips and glanced away from her. “Not sure where to start. It’s, um…it’s complicated and the whole thing fills me with repulsion.”

“I’m here for you, baby, you know that.” She reached for his large hand, laced her fingers with his, brought it to her mouth and kissed his knuckles.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m grateful for that.”

She watched him as he struggled to find the words to his story. Not wanting to add anxiety to his already over-amped nervous system, she took several deep, calming breaths.

“So. My brother’s never been one to indulge in feelings, and the Marines only reinforced that. I mean, I get it. You can’t go weeping on the battlefield or process your feelings after you just took someone’s life. Anyway, each time he came home on leave, I noticed increasing distance between him and anything resembling a feeling or sensitivity of any kind.”

He glanced at her, chewed on his lower lip and turned away. “It’s like the Marines scrubbed his humanity out of him. All he wanted to do when he came home was find someone to screw, get wasted, fight, in whatever order that came. So when I was twenty-three, immersed in my party lifestyle with Jace and Billy O’Reilly’s crew, he got charged with raping a girl.”

“Shit,” Beck said, her lip curling in disgust. “It figures.”

“Yeah, but he’s always been Mr. Lucky and the charges were dropped. The military may have helped, who knows? He’s an asset to their team. The girl was made to believe she made the whole thing up, it was consensual, blah, blah, blah. Poor thing.

“Anyway, after that, he insisted I come with him when he scored. He wanted both an eyewitness and someone to soothe the women he fucked, because, believe me, there’s not an ounce of tenderness in his soul. I doubt if his heart even beats at this point.”

He blew out a long breath. “He said he’d always make sure there was someone for me. I was young and hey, I’d had enough girls snatched out from underneath me, I thought it might be nice to be given one, instead. I forced myself to believe he was making nice with me, and we’d get closer. Nuh uh. Not with Lawson. I was merely a tool. I had to calm and soothe many a female he’d jacked off in and abandoned.” Zed’s foot began jiggling underneath the blankets. He stared off into space as if he were merely talking, and Beck didn’t exist.

She remained quietly attentive, giving ample space for him to sort his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, on one occasion, he invited me to spend the weekend in San Francisco. Said he’d pay for my flight. We’d have a nonstop party. ‘It would be
loads
of fun,’ he said.” Zed’s voice sounded hoarse, nearly cracking as he spoke.

Beck’s breath caught in her throat. She dared not exhale lest she break the walls of their private confessional, she the priestess, him the guy on the other side of the screen seeking absolution.

He let go of her hand, made a fist and made small punching gestures at his mouth, as if trying to keep it all inside, or else.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and gently moved his fist away from his face.

“So, we’re down in the hotel bar, getting drinks and I…I…” His head shook violently back and forth.

She brought her palm to his thigh, and ran it along the muscles soothingly. “It’s okay, baby, I’m right here. I’m here for you.”

He rolled away from her, and exploded out of bed, pacing back and forth. “So, I fucking wake up in a bed somewhere, I can’t see a blasted thing and my dick’s in someone’s mouth, male or female, who the hell knows. I’ve got this fucking erection that feels like shit. Like I’ve been given an injection of wasp venom or something.

“There’s some sort of hood over my head and headphones on my ears so all I can hear are murmurs. I start to writhe, try to move, but I’m bound to the bed.” He stops pacing, turns to her and gives her an almost pleading look. “When I bound you to the bed and told you I wasn’t into pain and you, well, you believed me, I was so grateful I wanted nothing more than to give you fountains of pleasure. That beautiful, blissful, mind-blowing night was me purging demons, trying to make a wretched experience into something glorious. You gave it to me, Beck honey.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted him next to her, she wanted to take away the burden of pain and shame, but she dared not move or say anything.

His restless prowling began. “All I hear is faint laughter. I don’t know what they’re laughing at but I’m guessing it’s me. I start to rage, to yell, pleading for release. This makes the laughter even louder. I don’t know how long I lay there, letting all these hands and mouths, pussies and breasts have their way with me, but it wasn’t pleasant.

“It wasn’t like, ‘Oh, an orgy of bliss.’ It was torture. My dick felt like it was on fire. Finally, the headphones are pulled free and the slurred voice of my brother says, ‘you have to beg to get free.’ And he and his groupies all laugh. Someone, one of the women, says, ‘let him go, Laws. You’ve had your fun.’ But for him the fun’s only begun. I’m his entertainment. I refused to beg. Told myself I would never beg. I think he got bored at one point, so he kicked the women out and turned his vile attention on me, telling me he refused to release me unless I begged and begged hard.”

Beck’s hand flew to her mouth.
The humiliation. The degradation. Oh, baby.
She refused to insult him with sympathy. Zed had turned into a good, good man. A man worthy of respect, not pity. “What did you do? How did you get free?”

He turned to give her the most chilling gaze she’d ever seen on him. And hoped she’d never see again.

“What do you think? I had to piss, I had to relieve my relentless hard-on…I begged. The more I begged, the harder he laughed. When I could barely stand it any longer, he untied one of my hands, and left the room. I didn’t see him until San Diego a year ago and the whole mystery moment began. Six blissful years, Lawson free.

“Of course, Ma kept me apprised of everything.” The muscles in his jaw ticked. “I pulled the hood from my head. The room was a total mess. Bottles everywhere, remnants of cocaine, bras, panties, ripped clothing. I cleaned up the best I could but…” He shrugged.

“I had to pay damages because he disappeared. That’s twice I’ve covered his ass financially. And I had been drawn on with permanent Sharpie. I had the word Loser on my forehead. Waldo scribed over my ass. Fuckhead, dickwad, pussy-whipped, you name it. I scrubbed my skin until it was raw, trying to get the words off.

“And my hangover…shit, it lasted for days. I was violently ill. Couldn’t keep a thing down. I don’t know what he managed to get his hands on
—
modern day Roofies, like temazepam or midazolam, mixed with Spanish Fly? I could have been killed with whatever he dosed me with. Anyway…that’s what happened in ‘Frisco.” A grim, mirthless smile appeared on his face.

“Come here.” She patted the space next to her.

He shook his head in the negative. “I need to…I dunno, get cleaned up or something. I need a long shower. By myself, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, dumbly, unsure of what to do or say. “Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you’re done.” When he shut the door behind him, even locking it, she hoped he didn’t do anything stupid. She hated Lawson Farrell. If he came back for treatment, she didn’t think she could even look at him. She’d want to knee him in the nuts, a move that probably wouldn’t fly with her employer.

Her body roared with rage. Feeling helpless, having been let in and then literally locked out, she got out of bed, and made her own pacing prowl. The water turned on in the bathroom and she listened as Zed moved about, pushing back the shower curtain, stepping into the tub/shower stall.

She stalked back and forth through the small room, wishing she’d taken up smoking or something. If she had, she’d be chain smoking like her former boss, Bruce Tapt, at this moment. She let out a chuckle. “Stupid idea, Beck.” Wandering toward the bathroom, she pressed her hands and face against the door in an attempt to be close to Zed. She jerked, surprised, when Zed’s voice roared from the bathroom.

“Beck!”

“What?” She heard the shower curtain being catapulted aside.

Zed flung open the door, causing her to nearly fall on his hard, wet body—something she wouldn’t be averse to if the circumstances were different. His face looked excited, exuberant.

“Telling that story must have rattled a memory loose. I’ve got something!”