Awakening Her Racy Passion [Racy Nights 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

Thoughts of Maddox’s club led Trent back to Ria, and he wondered whether she was even remotely interested in BDSM. Did she know he was a Dom? Luke would probably tell her if she asked. But why would she ask? Was she thinking about him right now, or had he only imagined the interested look in her eyes tonight?

It had been dark in the alley, but he didn’t usually mistake
that
look on a woman’s face. Their lips parted slightly, and their eyes got all soft. He could almost see their nipples hardening and their pussy lips turning smoky with blood engorgement.

Ria had a sexy, curvy body that he’d love to see naked, tied to a St. Andrews cross or bent over a spanking bench. Her ass would be round, just the way he loved them. He was dying to know if she’d ever had fantasies involving BDSM play, but there was no one to ask. The best he could hope for was to glean some information from Wyatt in the morning.

Their radio buzzed, and both men jumped up. Paul picked it up first, and Trent took advantage of his coworker’s momentary distraction to reach into his pants and straighten his dick. When Paul glanced at him again, he was adjusted and ready to go. “What is it?”

“Car skidded off the bridge over the creek by Skeeter McCree’s farm.”

“Let’s go.” It was time to get back to work. But while Trent loved the adrenaline rush his job afforded, right now he’d rather be enjoying one of those rushes in Maddox’s club with Ria.

* * * *

Wyatt Rohan was used to phone calls on weekends. They’d recently added a third public defender, but he and Bonnie still had the bulk of the cases. They both took turns being on call during the hours the court wasn’t in session. It was a small town, and they’d agreed a long time ago that there was no reason anyone should have to wait until a Monday morning to know whether they had legal representation. It might not be the way things were done in larger cities, but in Racy, that’s how they handled things.

So when his cell rang at 6:00 am on Sunday morning, he didn’t bother looking at the caller ID. He simply answered the phone. “Rohan here.”

“Hey, it’s Sean.”

“Hi.” Wyatt put down his coffee cup and frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Gerry Homer was stabbed last night in the alley behind Luke’s Bar.”

“No shit. Is he all right?”

“No. He died about a half hour ago.”

“Oh man. That sucks. Any leads?”

“Yes. You know him. We all do. I’m on my way now with Harrison to pick him up, so I thought I’d give you a heads-up.”

“Who is it?”

“Ned Meyers.”

Wyatt groaned. “Fuck. No fucking way. Are you sure he did it? Murder would be a few steps up for him.”

“I don’t think he meant to kill Gerry. It was a stab wound to the gut, which, unfortunately for Ned, pierced Gerry’s liver and his hepatic vein. They got him into surgery and repaired all that, but then he went into a condition called DIC. Know what that is?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. Disseminated intravascular coagulation. It’s a clotting disorder, right?”

“Close enough. It’s when your normal clotting mechanisms go haywire. That’s how Karen McCall explained it to me. She was in Luke’s when Gerry was stabbed and she followed the bus to Memorial last night and stayed until this morning. She said it can happen after surgery, especially in the GI system, and apparently Gerry had had clotting issues before.”

“I can’t believe he’s dead. This will hit the town hard.”

“I know. Everyone looked out for him.”

Wyatt took a sip of coffee. Even if it wasn’t premeditated, Ned could still be charged with involuntary manslaughter. He was looking at six years if convicted in this town. “Why do you like Ned for it?”

“Ria Rodriguez saw him stab Gerry. Well, hang on. Let me back up. She didn’t see who stabbed him. She saw a man stab him using his left arm, and she gave us a general description of what he was wearing. She also described hearing a voice say ‘I know you have money.’”

Ned was left-handed, if memory served Wyatt correctly. “How does she know it was Ned who spoke, and that he said the words to Gerry?” Ria was one of Bonnie’s best friends. Wyatt had had a secret crush on her for years, but dating anyone outside the lifestyle hadn’t worked out well for him, so he’d never done anything about his unrelenting fantasies.

“She heard him shout it from inside the bar just before she went outside and watched Gerry get stabbed.”

“That’s quite a stretch, even for you.” Sean was the best damn detective in Racy. If he believed Ned had done this, he was probably right.

“Hang on. I have more. We found a very large, very long ornamental knife in a Dumpster behind The Fit Bod.”

“For which you already have a match to the wounds?” The Fit Bod was close to Luke’s Bar, but why would Ned dump the knife where it could be so easily found?

Sean chuckled softly. “Not yet, smart-ass.”

“What else do you have? Why would Ned be stupid enough to toss the weapon where you could find it? He’s been in and out of your police station enough times to know not to do that.”

“We figure he panicked. Gerry was bleeding like a stuck pig when Harrison and I got there.”

“You got prints?”

“We will. And we know Ned had access to this particular knife.”

Wyatt smiled. “Why is that?” He and Trent had been friends with Sean their entire lives. There was no one on the police force that either man respected more, and the fact that Sean was so sure of himself only added to the game. He’d defend Ned or anyone else accused of this crime to the best of his ability, but he secretly loved it when Sean rubbed his nose in evidence like this. It kept his skills sharp, and when he was able to prove Sean wrong, it fed his ego.

“Because it’s the same knife that was among the ones Ned stole six months ago from Racy Antiques.”

Wyatt searched his memory. “You never proved that Ned took any of those knives.” Pearl Goodman, who owned the antique store, had filed a police report when an entire collection of ceremonial knives had been stolen from her shop one night. Someone had broken in and taken them before the cops arrived.

She had an alarm system, but whoever took them was fast. He or she had known exactly where to find them, which means it had been planned. Because Ned had had run-ins with theft charges before in Racy, they brought him in, but they weren’t able to pin this crime on him since the knives were never recovered.

“But we will now.”

“How?”

“We’ll find the others at Ned’s place.”

“Whoever took those knives has probably sold them by now.”

“Not in Indiana. They’re too unique, and we’ve been watching.”

“He or she went out of state then.” Wyatt drained his coffee cup. He might as well shower and get to the jail since it looked like Ned would be there within the hour.

“We have a warrant to search Ned’s apartment. We’re on the way now. You can meet us there if you want.”

“No. I’ll meet you at the station. Find the other knives, and then we’ll talk.”

“You got it.”

After Sean disconnected the call, Wyatt took a quick shower and mentally went over all the facts and assumptions Sean had presented. By the time he was dressed and on his way to the police station, his mind kept wandering back to Ria and what she had supposedly heard. While he would agree with Sean or anyone in Racy that Ned Meyers had a distinct accent, not found among anyone else in this town, he wanted to be more certain of the voice Ria had heard.

You just want an excuse to talk to her.

Wyatt smiled. Well, that much was true, too. But if she’d heard an accent, he wanted to be sure it was Ned’s combination of living in Germany until he was twelve, and a Swedish mother who was bilingual and still spoke to him her native language. And once he’d established that was what she’d heard, maybe he’d think about taking a chance on someone outside the lifestyle?

Of course, that would also mean he couldn’t defend Ned. Wyatt sighed as he started his car and waited for it to warm up. Why did his life always have to be so fucking complicated?

Ria slept in late the mornings after she worked, especially when she worked the Friday or Saturday night before, because Luke stayed open until 2:00 a.m. on Saturday and Sunday mornings. When her cell phone rang, she knew as soon as she opened her eyes that it was early from the soft light in the room. Thinking it was one of her siblings or her parents, she snatched the cell phone off her nightstand and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hi, this is Wyatt Rohan. I’m looking for Ria Rodriguez.”

She almost dropped the phone. Why was he calling her? How did he have her number? Ria sat up, her heart pounding. “You’ve found her.”

“Oh, good. I got your number from Bonnie, who by the way is a very loyal friend. She almost wouldn’t give it to me.”

Really
? She must remember to ask Bonnie why the hell she’d assume that Ria wouldn’t want a hot guy to have her phone number. “She’s a good friend.”

“I’m sorry to bother you this early, but I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I understand you witnessed Gerry Homer’s stabbing last night, and since it’s likely that either me or Bonnie will be defending the man who did it, I wanted to ask you some questions.”

The hair on the back of Ria’s neck prickled. Something about the mention of the man who had stabbed Gerry nagged at her consciousness, but she was still too foggy from being woken up early to figure out what it was.

“Can we have lunch?” And the tone of Wyatt’s voice bothered her, too. He was hesitant for some reason. What was going on?

“Okay. Sure.” She wasn’t going to pass that up, even if they were going to talk about such an unpleasant subject. Wyatt asked her to meet him at Nan’s Place in two hours. After he ended the call, Ria was surprised to see that it was almost ten in the morning. She’d only slept two hours less than usual. That wasn’t too terrible a sacrifice to make to have lunch with Wyatt Rohan.

Nan’s Place was usually crowded, but not until early afternoon on a Sunday. Ria ate there often even though the food nearly always gave her a stomachache the next day. The original Nan had died some time ago, and now her granddaughter, Emma Falcon, ran it. Ria liked Emma. She always had a smile for her customers and never seemed to be in a rush, even when there was a line out the door.

There were plenty of booths free, and Ria suspected that had as much to do with the fact that most of Racy still at church services, in addition to the temperature. It was barely ten degrees. She saw Wyatt, waved, and walked toward where he waited in a booth near the back. Several people watched her, but Ria reveled in that. If Bonnie or Leela had been here, she’d have been tempted to high-five them both.

As she slid into the booth, she breathed in his scent. The cologne was faint, and it smelled expensive. She loved it. Her nipples tingled and her pussy grew wet. Granted, it was only lunch, and it was business, but since she’d never been alone with him before, she was going to enjoy this. “Have you ordered?”

“Not yet.” He glanced around but didn’t have to wait long before Emma came over to ask what they wanted.

Ria knew she’d regret it by this evening, but she ordered onion rings with her cheeseburger because the rings always tasted so good going down. “I was surprised to get your call.”

“Well, it’s not all good news, unfortunately.” He glanced around then leaned closer.

If not for the fact he’d just prefaced that gesture with such an ominous statement, Ria would have been even more turned-on. But now, her mouth went dry and a feeling of dread she couldn’t explain washed over her. “What do you mean?”

“I wish there was an easy way to tell you this. Gerry died this morning after surgery. He had blood-clotting complications.”

Ria swallowed hard and shook her head, more to clear the sudden roaring noise than because she didn’t believe what he’d just said. “I can’t believe that. He can’t be dead.”

Wyatt covered her hand, and she drew strength from his warmth. “I’m sorry. Neither can I. The whole town will be very upset by this news.”

“Everyone liked him. It’s not right.” Emma brought her water and Wyatt’s iced tea, and as soon as she left, Ria drained her glass. “Did they arrest someone? Is that why you wanted to talk to me about what I saw and heard?”

Even though she’d whispered her questions, Wyatt still glanced around again with a nervous look on his face. “Yes, they did, but I’m not here as his attorney. He hasn’t yet decided whether he wants legal representation.”

“Won’t he need it?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yes, he will. And since this person has never before hired an outside attorney, it will be one of us. So, while I can’t discuss the particulars, I did want to ask you about what you told Sean and Harrison. You described hearing a unique voice.”

“That’s right.” Ria swiped at tears as the impact of what Wyatt had just said hit her. She’d been right. A man had stabbed Gerry. A man who had been in trouble before, and was well-known to the Racy legal community.

Ria also finally realized why the voice she’d heard had been so distinctive. “I know whose voice I heard. I just remembered. It was Ned Meyers. I know it was.”

Wyatt’s gaze grew dark and intense. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?”

“Yes.” Ria had heard his name for two decades, but she didn’t really know him. He’d been a year ahead of her in school, when he was in school, that was. He’d been in trouble since she could remember. “It was Ned’s voice.”

She leaned closer and tried to whisper even quieter. “He was one year ahead of me in school, but we had an English class together when he was in eighth grade, a couple years after he moved here from Germany. You know everyone in school made fun of the way he said certain words.”

Wyatt nodded, and Ria didn’t miss the sadness that filled his eyes. He already knew that she’d heard Ned in the alley last night, and the fact that she might be mistaken about that had been his one last hope that Ned couldn’t have done this to Gerry. Ria saw all that in his eyes as clear as sunlight.

“Well, I remember his voice because of that class. It was the only subject where they pushed me ahead in school. That’s why we were in that class together.”