Taste Me Deadly (Sensory Ops) (10 page)

Unlike the night before, when Liam neared the security gate to his division, the guard opened the gate automatically. Liam waved and drove toward the house.

“Your team is pretty impressive,” she said in an effort to fill the annoying silence.

“We’ve been through a lot together.” He rubbed the top of his fingers along hers. He’d been touching her with the same soft gestures all day and each time he did her skin popped with goose bumps. He’d said nothing, but every gesture suggested intimacy, which made her crave him while reminding her why they’d never last.

“Which could tear you apart.”

“Except it made us stronger. We’re good on our own, but together we’re unbeatable.”

She understood the theory even if it wasn’t one she could say she’d ever witnessed. His claims about how wonderful his friends were had been confirmed with every hug she’d been welcomed by. And each hug had twisted painfully, because she would leave Liam. Now, that meant she would also leave his friends.

“I know they can take some getting used to. Mainly how much we’re in each other’s lives, but you’ll get used to them.”

“Liam.” She pulled her hand from beneath his and placed it in her lap. “I need to tell you something.”

He pressed the button for the garage door. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m…” Her words fell away as the door rose. The convertible had been moved into the far spot and her dented up Corolla with its stained interior and two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand mile wear and tear sat in the spot beside Liam’s.

The heap couldn’t be more out of place.

Like her.

“You’re what?”

“What’s my car doing here?” She’d assumed it would sit in the hospital lot when he insisted he drive.

“We couldn’t leave it in the lot. For all we know Jessup’s people would find it and tamper with it.”

“So you had it brought here.”

It was sound logic. Everything Liam did for the sake of her safety was based on sound logic. The quality was equal parts endearing and frustrating. His latest gesture of getting her car, ten years past its expiration date, to his house turned a spotlight on their differences.

He was uptown. She was ghetto in a fading mask.

Logic and focus drove him. Spontaneity and guilt drove her.

He eased to a stop by her beater and put his machine in Park. “Where would you have rather seen it?”

“An impound lot. The bottom of the ocean. In a scrap pile.” She waved at the eyesore that had barely survived the trip from Vegas. “I’d rather see it anywhere but here.”

Liam studied her, long and serious. His silence wasn’t awkward, but neither was it easy. It was telling, as if he saw into her and could pull every insecurity to the surface with the lightest tug.

“You don’t think you belong here.”

“I know I don’t.”

“You think my friends and my house are more than you deserve. Even for a short time.”

She flinched. They were so much better than her, but the only way to make him understand would be to tell him everything. He would never know everything. She would never look into his eyes and see disgust looking back at her.

“You intend to leave, Grey.” The stark acceptance in his tone stabbed at her. “I intend to make that very difficult.”

“Why?” Her voice cracked. “Why do you want me here?”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you, so when you’re ready to stay, if you get ready, I’ll answer that question.”

“Your answer may be what I need to change my mind.” It wasn’t, but the idea that it could be held appeal.

He brought her hand up and placed a kiss on her wrist. “You have to want it for your own reasons.”

“Why can’t you make things easy?”

He was smiling as he leaned across her to open her door. His arm brushed her breast and a new round of goose bumps sprang to life. “The best things in life come with a little pain and heartbreak.”

“And how do you define ‘best things’?”

He kissed her cheek and kept his response to himself as he got out of the car and headed inside. Grey sat for a minute, stared at his retreating back and then the closed door as hollowness flooded her stomach.

Since their reunion he’d opened every door for her and showered her with affection. She’d wanted him to ease up, to stop so she could think straight. He had and she found herself facing something that felt suspiciously like sadness. It weighed heavy in her heart and sat thick in her throat. His departure left her feeling…empty.

Unsure what she’d say when she caught up to him she followed. Reconciliation with why she felt the way she did was far off, yet when she opened the door to the kitchen it became unattainable.

“Of course I’m happy to see you. I only asked what you were doing here.” Liam held a sprite of a woman in his arms and hugged her close.

Dark hair and alabaster skin, with a frame so petite she looked fragile enough to crack beneath Liam’s large hands, the other woman had her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. “I’m in town for a conference. You said the place was always open.”

Nice.
He’d acted like he’d only been interested in Grey, yet he’d given his key and security code to someone else.

The woman, who even sounded like Liam, raised her head and smiled at Grey as she tapped Liam’s shoulder. “Hi.”

He set her down. Despite her three-inch heels she barely reached his chest. She looked like a child. Rather, she had the face of a child and the body of a siren.

Grey did not return the child woman’s greeting. She was too busy wrestling down the sadness that had quickly morphed and boiled toward rage. Or it could be jealousy.

“Grey, come meet Gara, one of my all-time favorite people.”

She didn’t want to meet Gara, or any other woman making herself welcome in his house. Considering Grey’d be leaving in a couple of weeks, however, she had no right to say anything. Spine stiff, stomach churning with dislike, she nodded a greeting.

The girl didn’t look
as
young a little closer, but she still couldn’t be more than twenty-one. “Hello.”

The right corner of Liam’s top lip twitched with an unrealized smile. He was laughing at her. There was some joke only he was privy to and his resulting humor made her the butt. In her eyes that made him an ass.

“Gara.” He stepped around the other woman and took Grey’s hand. “Sis, this is Grey.”

Sis.

“You…” His sister’s mouth dropped. Knowing her name didn’t make Grey want to use it. Using it only stood to make her personable and
that
would
not
do.

Gara’s gaze darted between Liam and Grey. “I’m not sure what question to start with.”

Liam placed his palm at the small of Grey’s back. “She’s my wife.”

“Your… You… Oh my God!” Gara squeed at an eardrum-shattering pitch. “When? Does Aidan know? Have you phoned home?”

She squeed again and hand-flapped her way to Liam. Grey sidestepped. Gara grabbed Liam into a hug, bouncing. Then she released Liam and turned on Grey.

Excitement shone in the eyes so like Liam’s as she stepped forward. Grey stepped back with her hands raised in defense. She hadn’t just come face-to-face with a lover. This was worse. She’d just met more of his family and this family wasn’t the calm sort from earlier. No. This family was the high-strung, impressionable sort Grey shouldn’t be allowed near.

Grey’s lungs wouldn’t work right. She couldn’t get air. Her head buzzed. The muscles along her spine tightened, fisting around each vertebra.

“I’m gonna…go…” She pointed toward the back door as she moved away. “Air.”

She couldn’t move fast enough to get away from Liam and Gara. The introduction to his team hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t been horrible. They were helping protect Ruby. Aside from Aidan they weren’t family. And they’d been in the hospital, which was far less personal than Liam’s home.

Meeting his sister, who wanted to make sure his parents were notified, spelled doom. Meeting his family, the family Liam had said would be Grey’s, the family Aidan had welcomed her into, was the last thing she wanted to be dealing with.

Facing Jessup again in that storage closet held more appeal.

The walls moved in, pressing closer. Closer.

“Grey! Wait!”

She ignored Liam’s call and escaped into the backyard. Lush and stunning with a zero edge pool and amazing landscaping it held no soothing powers of seclusion. The trees bordering the property seemed promising. She headed for them and kept going until she found the seclusion she’d sought.

The neighborhood’s natural foliage of giant trees dripping with moss and the soft ground that gave beneath her feet were almost as good as the beach she’d have once visited. Her chest ached as she sank down.

Running hadn’t always been an option, but she’d gotten used to it, gotten used to being ready to run even if she didn’t. Running again because she felt trapped ripped the scabs off barely covered wounds.

Humidity clung to her cold, shaking hands. Sweat dripped from her brow, but she couldn’t get warm. And she couldn’t shake the memories sticking to her tighter than her shadow.

Drawing her knees to her chest, hugging herself with her head down, she begged for merciful relief. It didn’t come. Only the memory came.

The shop’s lights were turned off, but the Matoots never left less than three hours after closing. It didn’t matter how clean the staff left the place or how perfectly they balanced the till, the couple went over it again.

Or so they always explained.

In the backroom, the Matoots were dealing with bags of cake and muffin mixes. Or she’d thought that’s what they were doing. The labels were identical to the others, with the exception of the font.

On the stainless-steel counter sat clear, tightly sealed bags of pills stamped with a one-eared rabbit. Beside the counter was a giant container of dry mix, but instead of filling the bags with the mix they were dumping them out. The pile of pill bags grew with each one.

Opal’s—she hadn’t been Grey yet—fingers shook at the sight of the latest rage on the streets. White Rabbit was the latest brand of ecstasy everyone was wanting.

Her failure to resist it had already caused too much trouble, so she found herself struggling between stepping forward, not sure what she’d say, and retreating. To her left the back door opened, deciding for her. She darted silently into the storeroom and watched from the small window. She wouldn't confront the Matoots, but if she could sneak just one pill…

Karl Jessup came in, but he wasn’t dressed like usual. Instead of khaki Dockers and a polo he wore a slick-looking suit and gold watch.

“I’m hearing things,” he said in the slow drawl of the South. “Things I don’t like.”

Mr. Matoot, wiry thin with his fifty plus years showing in the gray hairs covering his head, turned to Jessup. He wasted no time getting to the point. “We can’t take these risks any longer.”

“We had a deal,” Jessup pointed out with a daring lift to his eyebrow. His charm suddenly seemed dangerous. “I help you get your daughter into the country, and you distribute cake mixes.”

“A boy’s dead because he got his hands on one of these bags,” Mrs. Matoot cried as she dropped another bag of pills onto the pile.

“A mistake that cut into my profits, but I let whoever made it live.”

“If your drugs hadn’t been here the incident wouldn’t have happened. Now we have cops sniffing around because they found a pill in the bag. We can’t do this anymore.”

“I see.” Jessup sounded calm as he reached beneath his suit jacket.

A chill wrapped around Opal’s shoulders. It had nothing to do with the cooler temperature of the closet.

“Let me simplify things for you. You’ll continue keeping your part of the deal and get rid of the cops.” He pulled a gun and pressed it to Mrs. Matoot’s temple.

Opal’s pulse points—every one in her body—slammed against the restriction of her skin.

“Or, I will give them something to sniff.”

Mr. Matoot shook his head. “We don’t trust you. Our girl should be here by now.”

“You think I don’t keep my word?”

Mr. Matoot notched his chin higher and stepped closer to his wife. “No.”

Jessup shrugged and pulled the trigger. Opal flinched. Mrs. Matoot fell. Her blood seeped onto the lavender tile. Mr. Matoot didn’t seem to notice as he went to his knee at his wife’s side. Vomit rolled up Opal’s throat. She swallowed it and a scream when Jessup swung the gun and aimed at Mr. Matoot.

“Do you doubt me now?”

“No.” Tears streamed down Mr. Matoot’s cheeks as he looked at his wife, stroking her cheeks. Loss and sadness didn’t weigh on his tone, though. Decisiveness did. “I think you got our daughter here long ago, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you killed her to keep us in line.”

“I guess I’m out of leverage.” Jessup pulled the trigger a second time. Mr. Matoot collapsed onto Mrs. Matoot’s chest. He was still moving when Jessup bent over with his hands braced on his knees. “Your daughter is here. She’s been staying with me.”

He pulled the trigger again. Opal failed to stop the new surge of vomit, but she managed to grab an empty bucket.