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Authors: Lauren Gilley

Whatever Remains (28 page)

BOOK: Whatever Remains
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19

 

 

             
I
t was after midnight when Jade was awakened by the chirping of her cell phone. Getting up at five-thirty meant going to bed at a reasonable hour, and that routine was deeply ingrained. Despite Ben not returning, despite Jeremy coming back with a wide-eyed story of Alicia erupting in the middle of the precinct about Ben jeopardizing the case, sleep had claimed her. She hadn’t called him; he was a big boy and had never appreciated being doted on. She’d tried to sit up and wait, but found herself now floundering for her phone in the dark, knitted throw sliding off her shoulder and waterfalling to the floor at the base of the sofa.

             
She squinted at the screen when she finally managed to light the thing up. It was a text from Ben:
Im at the back door
.

             
She almost laughed and groaned instead, shoving to her feet and tossing her tangled hair back over her shoulder. “The men in my life,” she muttered as she shuffled up the hall and into the kitchen.

             
Ben was indeed at the back door, blocking out the security light. She opened the door and stood in it a moment, hands on the jamb, still blinking away sleep. He had a duffel slung over one shoulder. “You went down for night check, let’s see…hours ago. Did you decide to bunk down with Merry?”

             
“That pony’s a dick,” he said. “And I – ”

             
“I know. Jeremy told me.” She sighed. “Just some kid, huh?”

             
He put a hand on her shoulder and gently eased her to the side so he could step into the kitchen. “A terrifying one, apparently.”

             
“I wouldn’t have been afraid if I’d known it was a teenager,” she defended, closing the door and putting her back to it.

             
He set his bag at his feet and gave her a
really?
look.

             
“I wouldn’t.”

             
“It was Robbie Bowles from down the street. Know him?” She shook her head. “He’s been sneaking out to see his girlfriend and cutting down your dive. Mystery solved.”

             
“Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Ben.” He was moving toward the cabinet where she kept the glasses. “Jeremy told me that Alicia turned up.”

             
He paused, hand on the cabinet door, and she saw a frown threaten before he composed himself and pulled down a tumbler. “Yeah. She did.”

             
“And?”

             
“And apparently – I didn’t see it.” He found the Jim Beam and poured himself too much. “She announced to the entire Homicide unit that my, quote, ‘romantic involvement’ with a witness was preventing me from dedicating all my time and effort to catching Heidi’s killer.”

             
Jade sucked in a breath. “She didn’t.”

             
“Oh, she did.” He went to the head of the table – Jeremy’s spot – and slumped into the chair, downing half his drink in one swallow.

             
“But…why?”

             
“You know her better than I do; you tell me.”

             
“I…” She was too tired, and not long enough awake: her mind refused to process the scene. “Was she on drugs or something?”

             
“You said yourself you didn’t think she was stable. That was an understatement.”

             
“But…she just sabotaged the case herself!” Jade looped a hand at the base of her throat and felt her pulse accelerating. Another thought sparked and she cringed. “What did your captain do?”

             
The rest of the drink went down; he drank that awful shit like it was water. “Two weeks suspension without pay.” He shot her a wry smile. “And I’m off the case.”

             
“Shit.”

             
He shrugged.

             

Shit
. What about the evidence you already collected? Your arrest? Is there going to be a
murderer
coming home down the street because of her?”

             
“I don’t know. Here, hand me that.” He motioned for the bottle he’d left on the counter and Jade frowned.

             
He sighed. “I’m not drowning my sorrows, alright? Just give it here.”

             
“I shouldn’t,” she said as she complied. “You’re rude as hell.”

             
“We’ve been over that. Look, I don’t know what’s gonna happen with the case. Trey’s lead detective now, so it’s probably gonna go down the shitter.” He poured himself another drink. “Fuck it; I don’t care anymore. If Alicia chooses to blow the whole thing, then that’s what she gets.”

             
“Yes.” Jade stood at his shoulder and twisted to fire a restless glance out the window. “That’s true. But there’s still the whole problem of a
murderer on the loose
.”

             
He poked the duffel bag with the toe of his boot. “Fully armed and dangerous, sweetheart. Nobody’s getting out of here alive.”

             
“That’s your solution?” she asked. She couldn’t decide if it was touching, or annoying. “You’re just bunking down for the next two weeks?”

             
“Yep.” He swallowed his bourbon, poured another, and gave her a measuring look. “Why? You don’t want me around?”

             
“We don’t exactly…”
Specialize in shared time
, was what she’d wanted to say. But the way he was watching her, the way the Jim Beam was warming the hard edges of his eyes…she couldn’t make herself say it. She took a deep breath.
Careful
, a voice in the back of her head whispered. She had to be so careful; this wasn’t Ben: sleepovers and protection and getting himself kicked off cases. She wasn’t sure how to maneuver around the man at her table.

             
“Wouldn’t you,” she started again, “like to take these two weeks and catch up on all the vacation time you won’t use?”

             
He shrugged. “Does Clara still wanna go to Disneyworld?”

             
“Okay. One: yeah. Every kid wants Disneyworld. And two.” She laid a hand on his shoulder – it was hard and smooth with muscle beneath his jacket, but not clenched, not tense – and leaned low over his face, searching the familiar, hard lines of it, amazed at the openness of it tonight. “What’s up with you? Getting kicked off this case should have made you angry enough to punch walls.”

             
He smiled, lazy and sideways. “I won’t lie: I had a lot to drink before I came over here.”

             
Jade sighed. “My God, you don’t make it easy on a girl.” She stepped around behind his chair and put her hands at the base of his neck. He had a nice neck: lean, corded, strong. He leaned into her touch as she worked her fingers up to the back of his head and raked them across his scalp, through his hair. “Don’t play games with me,” she said softly. “My home is yours; you know that. But don’t yank me around for the fun of it.”

             
He tipped his head and looked up at her. “I don’t play. I’m fucked up in a lotta ways, but at least I don’t do that.” He was serious.

             
“I know.” She smiled, and for a moment, felt a stirring in the maternal cords of her heart.

 

 

“I’m
gonna grab a shower,” she said as she leaned in to turn the taps on. There were two bathrooms upstairs: one was overrun by all things Disney princess and the tub was full of toys; the other was the smaller of the two, but it had a glass-walled shower and original, resealed marble floors. Jade had pulled down the wallpaper and painted it a soft ivory that matched her towels and candles and lavender-scented soap. Dressing room lights ringed the mirror above her cabinet-mounted sink to minimize the horror of the bags beneath her eyes. The water came on with a hiss and she hung a fresh towel up on the bar, turning to see if Ben was still lingering in the hall or if he’d gone to her room already.

             
He had a shoulder propped in the doorjamb, arms folded, watching as she reached for the bottom of her sweater. “You want company?”

             
Oh, I don’t need this
, she thought, but heat went pouring through her, melting her judgment, filling in the logic gaps. Her skin hummed at the idea. “Yeah.”

             
They undressed without pretense, plainly looking instead of stealing glances. The wanting in his eyes was something she would never grow tired of. Jade tested the water – it was hot and roiling with steam – and stepped in first. The water sliced through her hair; she pushed it back and reached for him.

             
Her shower felt tiny with him in it. He crowded her under the spray, ducked his head and kissed her while water coursed down their faces and pounded against their shoulders. While his big hands framed her face – he urged her jaw wider with his thumbs, tongue plunging into her mouth –  her hands wandered. He was made of solid, masculine stuff: heavy bone and lean muscle; wide shoulders and narrow hips; soft skin that jumped beneath her touch, rippling with water, slick and smooth; chest dusted with dark hair.  He was the embodiment, for her, of what a man was supposed to be. He was the face of her nonexistent father; the lover her hollow heart had wanted. Boys had never interested her. Once she’d faced the truth that her best friend could only ever be her best friend – both of them sixteen and holding hands and Jeremy choking on tears while she rubbed circles across his back and told him how much she loved him, no matter what – she’d only ever wanted a
man
in her life. Older, wiser, worn around the edges. Who needed her and loved her. She’d been given Ben, who was what she’d craved, and yet the biggest heartache. Everything had a price.

             
His hand slid down her throat, over her collarbone, lingering at her breast and moving down again. Jade broke the kiss when his touch slid down the curve of her belly and went between her legs. She sucked in a breath full of raindrops. His fingers stroked against her, teasing, thumb finding her sweet spot.

             
She latched onto his biceps and squeezed, eyes level with his shoulder. “Ben…”

             
A finger pressed inside her, going deep to the knuckle. He thumbed her clit and her hips rolled at the contact.

             
“Mmm.” She bit down on the tip of her tongue and tilted her head, blinking up at him through the falling water. “No,” she forced herself to say. “I want it horizontal this time.”

             
The shower jets had flattened his hair and painted it black. Water beaded his lashes and ran down the proud ridge of his nose. He grinned, and maybe it was the drink in him, but damn, it was the wicked, welcoming smile that he’d flashed her for the three months before things had changed. “Giving me orders?” he asked under the rush of the shower.

             
“Asking,” she corrected. With his finger still inside her, hand still cupping her, she stretched up on her toes and put her lips to his ear. “Asking nicely,” she whispered, and took his earlobe lightly between her teeth.

             
His hand withdrew – for a second, she regretted her decision – and he took her by the hips, setting her back (she grinned when she caught the pained amusement on his face) and turning her so she faced the showerhead. “Okay.” He reached over her shoulder and pulled the soap down off its shelf. He rolled it between his hands in front of her, arms hemming her in around the waist, erection digging into the base of her spine. “That’s fine.” The soap went back to its spot and his lathered hands closed over her breasts; her head kicked back against his shoulder and he chuckled. “But I get to try and persuade you otherwise.”

             
And he did. His soapy fingertips worked her nipples into tight, straining buds; his hands molded her and his spine flexed, his hips rocking against hers. “You don’t fight fair,” she accused, breathless, eyes trained to what he was doing.

             
His palms passed over her breasts and down the lean stretch of her belly, stroking up and back for long, slow moments, making her wait. When he reached her clit, her defenses melted.

             
“Oh, I don’t care,” she breathed.

             
She felt his smile against the side of her face. “I’ve still got your horizontal. Don’t worry.”

             
“Really? You didn’t have too much to drink?”

             
In answer, he hoisted her up against the shower wall, hands taking a tight hold on her hips. The glass was smooth and slippery under her palms, cold on her breasts. She turned her head, let the wall catch her cheek, and gave herself over to the way he angled her hips and lowered her…

BOOK: Whatever Remains
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