A Reason to Kill (Reason #2) (17 page)

As we made it to the top, I realized we were on the opposite side of Grizzly Pointe and you could see the meadow where our tents were set. It was then I realized the cabin I’d glimpsed during the few hours I’d been in the meadow belonged to Max.

A warm glow of lights announced our arrival at his home. Built on the edge of the ridge, it was high above the valley and you could see the lights from the town below. His dog met us as we pulled in, a large dog whose breed was questionable. He looked to be a mix of Husky and German Shepherd, with a longish coat that was soft and thick.

When we parked, Max came around to my side and helped me down, then took my hand and led me to the large deck that faced the valley. It was cozy, with a porch swing and Adirondack chairs facing out as if he sat there every morning with his coffee as he started his day. When he unlocked his front door and ushered me inside, I stopped in awe at the cabin.

The front door opened into the living room filled with masculine leather furniture. Dark brown, leather sofa and chair were arranged in front of a massive rock covered fireplace with a timber mantel that was almost identical to my own. The floors were an amber colored tile with large rugs here and there in a tribal pattern of red, brown, and black. The walls were log siding, tucked with white chinking with minimal pictures hung on them. He had family photos on the mantel, but not much in the way of knickknacks or whatnots to give me a sense about the man.

Max walked around me as I took in the surroundings, moving into his kitchen that overlooked the living room. His kitchen, outfitted much like Maxine’s with black granite countertops and stainless appliances, was surprisingly clean for a man. Knotty pine cabinets gave the kitchen some warmth set against the coolness of the stainless steel.

When Max opened the cabinet, pulling out plates and glasses, it hit me he really was going to cook for me. He wasn’t just hauling me up here for a bootie call. I felt like an ass for assuming the worst so I dropped my pack and made my way to the kitchen.

“What can I do to help?”

“Got it covered, grab a beer for us both and I’ll meet you on the deck,” he told me as he loaded his arms with the plates and glasses and headed towards the front door.

Beer I could do, so I grabbed two from the fridge and followed him out.

Max had removed the cover from his grill and was scraping the grate when I walked out. When I handed him his beer he took it with his left hand, then raised his right hooking me around the neck, thanking me for the beer with a kiss.

My hand came up and wrapped around his wrist for support, and I could feel the wide leather cuff he wore. Actually, I don’t think I’d seen him without it since arriving. Max was a bit of an oddity now that I thought about it. He had the body of a lumberjack, but his hair was longer than most men wore. It hung longer in the back and his bangs were below his brows and parted down the center. He sort of pushed it aside when it got in the way, yet it always looked like he’d spent hours perfecting the look. The leather cuff was almost trendy, like you’d see someone younger wear, yet it seemed homemade, like it was cut from a leather strap of some sort.

“You always wear this,” I questioned as I ran my hand across it. Max’s dog bumped my leg, trying to get my attention, so I bent down and rubbed him behind the ears as Max answered my question.

“Yeah, it’s from a strap that saved my life. I never take it off. It’s to remind me of how lucky I was and I suppose a good luck charm in some ways. Muttley, go lie down,” he told the dog.

“And here I thought you were a trendsetter with your long hair and cuff,” I giggled as I watched the dog obey.

“Hardly, it’s colder here more months than not, so the hair keeps me warm,” he smiled.

“And the beard? Is that for warmth as well?”

“Nope, I just hate to shave. Give me a week and I’ll shave it off and start over again,” he smiled. “Hold my beer while I go get the steaks.”

Taking his beer, I moved to the railing and looked down on the town. My thoughts naturally drifted to whom in that town was a killer. At least I didn’t have to worry about Max since he’d been at the bottom when I fell into the river.

When his hands appeared on either side of me, he leaned in, pinning me to the railing. Caught off guard by his action I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. Without a word, he moved my hair aside and I felt his warm breath on my neck. Not thinking about what I was doing, I tilted my head to the side as his tongue snaked out, tasting my skin. All my bravado about keeping my distance fell out the window when his lips traveled up my neck. I moaned a bit when he nipped my ear, rubbing my ass against his crotch. The next thing I knew he turned me around, ripped the glasses from my face, and pinned my head with both hands as he consumed my mouth.

Screw the steaks
, I thought as his hands found their way around my body. One made its way to my ass, cupping it, and the other slid to my breast, his thumb brushing gently across my nipple. I inhaled sharply as nerve endings came to life, and my knees buckled slightly. When my weight gave way, Max ripped his mouth from mine and picked me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist.

“Fuck the steaks,” he gritted out as he turned and headed towards the door.

“Okay, that works for me,” I agreed breathlessly and then lunged at his mouth. Hell, if I was going to do this I might as well participate to the best of my ability.

We’d made it to his front door when the sound of tires on the gravel drive broke us apart. Max looked towards the driveway as I climbed off his body and he growled “Maxine.”

Smoothing down my shirt, I stepped back to wait for his mother. Max didn’t like the distance between us ‘cause he reached out and hooked me around the shoulders, drawing me back to him. I lost my footing, per usual, and slammed into the side of his body just as I heard footsteps on the deck and a sultry voice say, “There’s my girl.”

Stunned at hearing that voice, I looked up, saw the familiar face I adored, and squealed “Aunt Jess?”

Ten

Green Willies

“And then I told him, 'Handsome, if I wanted to get married, I would have done it when Eddie Van Halen asked.'"

“No shit?” Lucy asked, eyes wide in wonder.

“My lips are sealed,” Aunt Jess, laughed.

My current location, again, was Last Call with Lucy, Frank and now my Aunt Jessica or Jess as I call her. She’s my mother’s younger sister and the black sheep of our family. To me, she’s just Jess, the coolest aunt a girl could have had when growing up.

Here’s the thing about Auntie Jess, no one, and I do mean no one would ever put her in the category of, say, elder aunt. At forty-five, she looked middle thirties. She has long, dark auburn hair, big green eyes, and a complexion like a baby's butt, smooth and soft.

Jess has never been married and never had kids, has the figure of a twenty-year-old and the boobs of a woman who’s had plastic surgery. Dressed in faded jeans, western boots, and a tight fitting concert tee from some reunion show in Sturgis. In addition, she’d topped that off with a jeans jacket and trendy scarf. She looked great as always and the men in the bar couldn’t take their eyes off her. Typical Jess—and I loved her dearly.

Jess is a bit of a nomad, she travels around the country with her roadie friends, hanging backstage with aging musicians still trying to hang on to their youth.

My mom, ten years Jess’s senior, was never close with her sister. They’re as opposite as night and day. Mom, being much older, grew up in a time when women wore dresses while doing housework and had dinner waiting when their husband’s arrived home. Aunt Jess grew up during Woodstock and watched my grandmother burn her bra as she demanded equality.

Basically, they had two different mothers who occupied the same body. The result of Gram’s own personal growth and rebellion, was prim and proper Judy Roberts, girlie girl, perfect wife and mother, and Jessica Franklin, women’s libber and eternal hippie. She dressed like she was twenty, partied like she was twenty, and for an awkward girl who preferred books to sports having an aunt who was seriously cool kicked-ass. However, it drove my mother insane. Between my mother’s influence and my aunt, I turned into a girlie girl who loved music and dressed down most of the time. I preferred my jeans and collection of quirky T-shirts to grownup clothes thanks to Jess, and got my work ethic and all things girlie from my mother. My clothes drove my mother nuts, and my dedication to work drove Jess nuts. (She’s tried to get me to go on the road with her for years.)

That being said, I was shocked when Jess showed up at Max’s house. She’d called a week ago and I’d told her I was headed to Alaska to conduct the triannual field study. So, Jess being Jess, she decided she’d pay me a surprise visit. When she arrived in town and asked how to find me, residents of Trails End, of course, pointed her in Maxine’s direction. Upon hearing of my arrest, she’d laughed and then asked Maxine to take her to my location.

When she arrived at Max’s, like a force of nature, she’d taken one look at Thor and proceeded to flirt with him. Then she high-fived me for kneeing Stetson and insisted we go out for drinks to celebrate my incarceration.

Max had been laid back about the whole leaving thing considering where we’d been headed. He’d put the steaks away, said they’d keep for another night and to go spend time with my aunt, right before he’d kissed me goodbye so deeply I’d had second thoughts about leaving.

That brings us to now . . . shots and Aunt Jess.

“What gives with you and the gladiator?” Jess asked as she nudged my shoulder.

“Who Max?” I stalled.

“Spill, pipsqueak.”

“Just a guy who lives here,” I lied again. I wasn’t sure what Max was other than a constant thought in my head.

“Oh, come on, that clinch you were in says otherwise,” Jess laughed.

“Clinch? D.E.T.A.I.L.S woman and hold nothing back,” Lucy demanded.

“That’s my cue to play a game of pool,” Frank sighed.

Some local got up on the stage to sing so we all turned around to watch. I kept sipping my beer hoping Jess would drop the twenty questions. Unfortunately, when the song ended and the applause died down, she slung her arm around me and said, “Time’s up, tell Auntie Jess all about it.”

Per usual, whenever I was around my beloved crazy aunt, I couldn’t help myself, so I spilled to her and Lucy. About the bears, singing drunk, Max carrying me home and flirting with me. Then I told her about Donald, being chased by the killer and falling into the river. Of course, I wasn’t done there, so I told her more about Max, being a decoy for crazy Maxine, kneeing Stetson (just not why), being suspended, the whole pain in my ass or someone more, probably being set up as the killer and the best damn kisses I’d ever had.

“And you’ve been here how many days?

“This makes day four,” Lucy replied.

“Jesus, Mia Bear, I couldn’t be prouder if you were my own daughter.”

As I said, Aunt Jess was crazy.

Lifting my bottle, the three of us clinked them together in a female salute to “being bad when you can and living life to the fullest,” (Jess’s motto, not mine.)

I liked to have fun and I’m no wallflower, but my idea of having a good time didn’t include being arrested for defacing public property or stealing cars to get to a concert.

“You may be proud, but when Mom and Dad get back from their tour of India, I’m sure I’ll get an earful.”

“Then don’t tell them. They don’t need to know every detail of your life, just concentrate on your job,” she advised with a wave of her hand.

“What job? I was suspended, remember? Now I’m stuck here spinning my wheels wondering who has it out for me.”

“Uh, your job to sleep with that gorgeous man and keep him occupied. Forget about the rest. It’ll all work out in the end. Then you can go back home and forget all about this place.”

“Jesus, Jess—” I got out before a loud crash had me looking over my shoulder. Annie was walking away from a recycling bin when I turned around.

I turned back to tell Jess I wasn’t going to sleep with Max as a decoy. That
if
it happened, and my ability to control myself around him said it was possible, it would be because I wanted him, not to keep him out of Maxine’s hair. When I looked over at Jess to tell her just that, I found her pulling a pen, paper and a pair of glasses out of her purse.

“You finally gave in and bought readers?”

“Yeah, I may not like it, but father time, unfortunately, is catching up with me. Now, if someone is out to get you as you say, let’s make a list of who you know and might have pissed off.”

“Considering our association with Donald that would be the whole town,” Lucy jumped in.

“Ok, that won’t work. Who knew you threw that axe?”

“Um, I don’t know, maybe seventy-five people.”

“So, the killer had to have been in the crowd, then got pissed off when he heard what Donald said and decided to frame you, right?”

“Yeah, that sounds plausible,” I agreed.

“Do you know what evidence they found at the scene? Did you see anything?”

“I told you, the killer came up behind me and I took off, I didn’t see anything other than Donald’s body.”