Thrilled To Death (14 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Apodaca

BOOK: Thrilled To Death
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He handed me a pair of gloves and said, “Inside.”
I passed by him, noticing that he already had gloves on, right before I caught a glimpse of his blank expression. God. What if he just wanted to tell me to get lost? What if Bo came in while he was telling me to get lost? I took a breath and looked around the room. King-size bed covered in a green bedspread. Two bedside tables. Two lamps bolted to the walls. There was a round table with two chairs to my right in front of the window that, thankfully, had the drapes pulled tight. Straight ahead was a mirrored closet, a sink and dressing area, and a door to a bathroom. On my left was a dresser with a TV on top and—
Gabe.
He stood a few feet to my left, watching me.
I sucked in a breath. “Gabe, I should have—”
“Later. Right now let's see what we can find out about Bo Kelly.” He went to the dresser and started opening drawers.
I stood there stunned while Ali trotted over to sniff around the dresser. Then I passed Gabe and headed to the bathroom. I found a shaving kit, deodorant, fresh towels, and everything tidy enough that I suspected the maid had been here. I found nothing unusual.
I went to the closet and opened it up. There was a small suitcase on the floor next to some shoes. There were a couple changes of clothes hanging up. “He must intend to come back tonight. His suitcase is here. And a toothbrush in the bathroom.” I tried to stay focused.
“Nothing in the drawers except boxers, socks, and some shirts.”
I went to the nightstand. “What are we looking for?” I thumbed through a
Newsweek
and
People
magazine when a handwritten note fell out.
“A gun, silencer, sleeping pills, lock-picking tools. Notes on hit men. A bank slip noting a large withdrawal. A large sum of cash to pay a hit man. Directions to the abandoned house the murdered hit man was found in. Anything that tells us where Bo is now or what he was looking for at the stadium.”
I picked up the note and stared at Gabe's back. He finished up the last drawer and stood.
When he saw me staring, he frowned. “What?”
“You've found out so much. It was the hit man that Vance found? How did he die?”
“Overdose of sleeping pills with booze. The severe dog bite points to him being the hit man. They are running prints to see if that will identify him. There was no ID on the body, so look for a wallet or ID that doesn't belong to Bo.” Gabe started toward the other side of the bed, then dropped his gaze. “What's in your hand?”
I looked down to the piece of paper I had picked up and read it. “It's the date and time of Shane's show on Saturday. The name of the security company.” I looked up at Gabe. “I remember that because my mom and I talked to them at the stadium, and my mom sprayed two of them with pepper spray.”
The tense, blank look on Gabe's face splintered for a second, and he lifted an eyebrow.
“Never mind,” I said, staring at the paper. “It also has the campground where Shane was staying and a couple names. One of them is Lola. I don't recognize the others. They are women, so maybe they are Shane's assistants.”
“That suggests that Bo came here to find Shane,” Gabe said. “Anything else on there?”
I shook my head.
“Take the paper and keep looking.” Gabe headed into the bathroom to recheck. Since I hadn't known exactly what we were looking for, I didn't let that get to me.
I stuffed the paper in my pocket and looked through the nightstand drawers. It felt creepy to look through Bo's things. But it was creepier to think of him as a killer.
“Sleeping pills. Ambien.” Gabe came out with a brown prescription bottle. He opened it and looked in. “There's only two left.”
“How many does it take to overdose someone?” I asked, feeling a wet chill soak my body.
“I'm not sure, especially mixed with booze and maybe something else. There'll be a tox report with the autopsy.”
I shuddered at the idea of Bo being the killer. I couldn't believe it. To hire a hit man, then kill the hit man when he failed, and then kill Shane, that was desperate. Really desperate. Bo didn't seem that desperate to me. He seemed like Bo. Nikki had seemed more strung out to me than Bo had. I saw that Gabe was copying down all the information from the prescription bottle. Guess he didn't plan on swiping it.
Gabe started back to the bathroom when we both heard a car door slam.
Ali lifted her head off her paws and looked at the door.
Shit. What now? I moved as quietly as I could toward the drapes. Gabe turned off the light, and I parted the drapes a sliver to see outside.
A woman walked to the door of the room next to us. Relief allowed me to drag in a large breath. “Next door,” I whispered and let the drapes fall.
Gabe nodded and hurried into the bathroom, then he came out. “Let's go. We've found all we can.”
I followed him out of the room after we checked that no one was looking. Gabe shut the door and took my arm, walking me to my car. “Meet me at my house.”
I stopped at the door to my T-bird. “The dogs.” I could see his face clearly in the lights mounted outside the doors of the motel. “Were they poisoned? Or drugged?”
“I'll tell you later.” He turned and left.
I opened the door for Ali, then got in after her. My shoulders were tight enough to bounce a nickel off of. My stomach churned. I started my car and backed out.
I got to Gabe's house first. Ali sat by me as I stared at his front door and debated using my key. I knew the alarm code too. I could wait inside and pretend we just had a little disagreement.
Or I could wait out here and acknowledge that I didn't know where we stood.
Thank God, Gabe's truck drove up before my brain exploded from the pressure of my thoughts. Ali raced off to greet him as he got out of the truck. I stuck Gabe's house key into my purse and watched Gabe and Ali come up the sidewalk. He unlocked the door, keyed the alarm code, then closed the door behind us.
I looked into his office in the fourth bedroom behind the front door. It was empty except for the box of pictures.
“I've got all my work at the table in the kitchen.” Gabe walked away with Ali running ahead because she knew Gabe kept treats for her.
I had this kind of strained relationship with my mother where we didn't really talk. My relationship with my husband had deteriorated to pathetic noncommunication after I realized that the boys and I were only window dressing in his life. Gabe had never, ever let me get away with that in our relationship.
Now he was ignoring our problems.
What was I going to do about it?
I took a breath, straightened up, and hoped I had a fraction of the courage Cal thought I did. I turned down the hallway that opened into the family room and kitchen. Ali had a brand-new chewy bone and plopped down in the family room to gnaw on it.
Gabe stood by his kitchen table in the breakfast nook. I walked up to him and said, “We need to talk.”
He picked up the cordless handset of his phone. “Right, but let's see what Barney has first. Maybe he's found a way into Bo's bank accounts to see if he's had large withdrawals.”
I grabbed the phone and slammed it down on the table.
The right side of Gabe's jaw twitched. “Don't push me, Sam.”
I heard the low threat in his voice and didn't give a rat's ass. “Why the hell not? You've been pushing me away for days.”
Gabe went still, except for a slow blink of his dark eyes. “Back off, Sam. We have work to do—”
Fear sparked an adrenaline rush. “Screw work! I want the truth from you. I want to know if you regret our arrangement!” Damn it, if I cried I swear I was going to get my pepper spray out of my purse and make Gabe cry.
Gabe shoulders stiffened and I saw him clench and unclench his fists at his sides. The nerve deep in his jaw throbbed in beat to his fury. The silence hung thickly, except for the sound of Ali chewing on her bone.
But I was not going to back down. If Gabe was going to bail out on me, I'd rather know now. And he would bail knowing the whole truth. “I hate feeling this scared, this vulnerable. I can deal with killers and liars, but I can't deal with you hating me for being a burden.”
No tears.
I shut my mouth and pressed my lips together to control the urge to cry or throw up. A flash of pain from my black eye and sore cheek made me ease up. But that was a mistake, releasing the hold on my emotions. “You sent your brother to babysit me? God, you must hate that hero streak that forces you to make sure I'm safe. And look at you now.” I threw up my right hand to indicate the table covered in diagrams and notes. “Forced to help me find this killer because your conscience won't let you just walk away.” I glared at him.
Color flooded his granite face. His eyes burned. He started to lean into a step toward me, then caught hold of himself. “Are you finished?”
I closed my eyes, desperate not to cry. He didn't care. It swept me back to Trent. In the last years, we didn't even fight. We didn't care enough. We just sniped at one another, then stayed away. So was I finished? “Yes. I'm finished.” I picked my purse up on the table.
One foot in front of the other and don't cry. Keep walking.
Dog.
God, don't forget my dog. I couldn't come back here. “Ali, come on.”
“Ali, stay,” Gabe said.
I stopped in the hallway, my back to the wall. Ali looked at me, then at Gabe.
I looked at Gabe. What was he doing?
Ali whined her confusion deep in her throat. She was loyal to Gabe and to me. “Don't do that to her! She doesn't understand!” I felt a tear slip and hated myself. “Fine, she can stay here.” I turned and headed for the door.
Gabe caught my arm and pushed my back up to the hallway wall. His face was raw with anger, and maybe pain. “Don't cry.”
I sniffled but kept my tears from falling. “Get away from me.”
“Too late.”
Ali stuck her nose between us.
Gabe let go of my arm and stepped back. He dropped down to his haunches and stroked Ali's head. “That's a good girl.”
Her powerful shoulders relaxed and she licked Gabe's hand.
“Go lay down with your bone, Ali.” He looked up at me, then back down to Ali. “She's not leaving.”
13
I
stood in the hallway of Gabe's house with my back to the wall and wondered who the hell Gabe thought he was ordering me and my dog around.
Ali seemed to think it was okay that he told her I wasn't leaving, and she went back to chewing on her bone in the family room.
Gabe stood from the crouched position in which he'd talked to Ali and took hold of my arm. Before I could snatch my arm back, he dragged me with him down the hallway. He hung a left into his bedroom, pulling me behind him. He let go of my arm, reached past me, and shut the door.
Mentally, I tried to catch up. I guessed he wasn't going to yell at me in front of Ali. She wouldn't like it. Why did he have to care about my dog? If he didn't care about my dog, I wouldn't have to remember his face when I'd said he didn't have to worry about me anymore, that I'd be out of his life.
That had been cruel. I had been cruel.
Gabe turned back to me. “I am not going to get away from you. It's your own damn fault. If you don't want me near you, then don't come looking for me. And don't come into my house. Don't stand in front of me with your demands and think I don't have demands of my own.” He advanced.
I backed up, not afraid of him physically. “Demands?”
He reached out, taking hold of my shoulders. “I saw Shane dead, and it could have been you that had the bullet through your head. He was killed
minutes
after he left you.”
His hands tightened slightly and I felt the tremor go through him, the tremor that urged him to shake me, but Gabe controlled that. But something deep and wild was testing his control. “But I'm fine. I wasn't in danger. What demands?”
“The hell you weren't! Shane smacked you around, and I call that danger. A killer found him fifteen fucking minutes after he left you. That's danger.” His jaw tightened, and the cords on his neck stood out.
I could feel the battle in him. “Gabe? What demands?”
“This.” He yanked me to him, bringing his mouth down on mine. He opened his mouth, sliding his tongue deep inside of me. His hands released their hold on my shoulders to caress my back. One hand slid around the curve of my hip and pulled me into him.
Into his hard erection trapped in his jeans.
The need for Gabe roared through my blood, and I stopped thinking. Stopped trying to understand. He had demands, and his mouth and hands grew insistent to meet those demands. He caught the edge of my tank top and broke the kiss to haul the top over my head.
I was breathing hard. Wanting him. Wanting a reassurance of him I hadn't known I needed. The solid weight of Gabe over me, thrusting into me.
Gabe moved up to replace cool air on my breasts with his hot hands. I looked up to his face. “Clothes,” I said, and reached for his shirt, dragging it over his head.
He pulled off his pants. I got rid of my shoes, pants, socks. Gabe caught my waist, backing me up to his huge king-size bed before I could remove my panties.
His body gleamed in the bedside light, his skin golden over hard, rippling muscles in his chest that moved as he pushed me back. His erection stood out from between his powerful thighs. I let him push me back and scooted halfway up the bed when he caught the edge of my panties, stripping me bare.
He stood there at the edge of the bed. His gaze, as dark as the fears that made us both so vulnerable, swept down my length until he reached out and parted my knees and looked his fill.
I shivered beneath his stare, seeing the heat roll over him, making his penis dance with anticipation. Warmth spread through me, creating an aching emptiness that only he could fill. “Gabe.”
He met my gaze and closed his eyes for a second. “Tell me now if you want gentleness.” He opened his eyes. “If I can.”
“I want you.” I swallowed and fought the flood of desire, need, and fear. “I love you.”
He let go of my thighs, put his knee on the bed, and came down on top of me. Taking hold of my wrists, he pulled them over my head and kissed me hungrily with no gentleness but an unrelenting demand. Using one hand to hold my wrists, he dragged his free hand down my length, teasing my breasts, and then he slid his fingers between my legs.
I bucked up against him, needing him. “Now,” I said into his mouth. I was beyond gentle. I wanted to possess this man, draw him into me and drive him to losing control until he gave me that part of himself he gave to no one else.
He shifted until his penis prodded against me, poised at the opening to my body. Gabe went still. Holding my hands stretched above us, he looked down into my face. Into my eyes. “Take me.” His voice was soft and thick.
I arched up.
He met me, plunging deeply and taking my breath away. The dam of his control broke.
For both of us.
He brought his other arm up and linked his fingers with mine and lowered his head to ravage my mouth. The pressure that had been building for days ripped through both our bodies, forcing us to a frenzied mating. The tensions and needs ratcheted up with every thrust until Gabe lifted his mouth from mine, his breathing ragged, sweat dotting his face. “Give me everything, sweetheart.” Then he pulled out and came back into me, and I shattered.
As soon as I went over into a blistering orgasm, Gabe's body went rigid and he drove deeper to gain his release.
Gabe caught his breath and rolled off me. I turned just as he reached for me, holding me. “I'm sorry I hurt you with what I said at the police station.”
He grinned, his easy humor returning. “I'm pretty sure pulling that wall out of my ass would hurt too.”
I winced. “I was angry and scared—”
He leaned down, kissing me. “Go to sleep.”
A slice of panic cut through my languor. “I can't. I have to go home to the boys, and I have to work on this case.”
He brought his hand up to touch my sore cheek. “Cal will watch over the boys and Barney with his life. He has a gun with him, one of mine, and he knows how to use it. You need to rest. If you won't sleep with me here, then we're going to your house and the two of us will cram ourselves into your bed.” His touch was gentle yet possessive. “We'll fix the world later. But we're going to take a couple hours for ourselves.”
I settled against him, knowing that the boys would call me if they wanted me. But I had to tell him two things. “You need to talk to Cal, Gabe.” I wasn't going to tell Cal's story. They were brothers—they could work this out. “Sooner rather than later.”
“I just bet you got the whole story out of him.”
I ignored the sarcasm in his voice. That had been the easy part. Now came a little truth I had been avoiding even telling myself. “I love Heart Mates. It's mine. I know I sound like a child, but it's . . . mine.” How did I explain it?
“Sam, I know.”
His voice was thickening with drowsiness. I had to get this out. “I don't know if I can do both. The PI stuff and Heart Mates. You signed a lease. I know how much we've spent. How much you've spent. How much work you've done. Your brother is even helping. And Blaine, and the painters are coming tomorrow. . . .” I ran out of words.
Gabe's silence reached every shadowed corner of the bedroom. Then he turned on his side to face me. He was backlit by the bedside lamp, making his black hair gleam and outlining his powerful body. He leaned forward until his face touched mine. “We'll figure it out. But it doesn't change one thing.”
Relief sank into me. He wasn't yelling at me. “What?”
“I love you.”
 
I took a sip of coffee and said, “I hope it's decaf.” It was midnight, and we'd gotten up to do some work before going to my house.
“Wuss. Next thing you know, you'll be adding water.”
I laughed. “Now that you've had sex, you think you're pretty hot stuff, don't you, stud?” The awful tension between us had eased. The problems were still there, but so was the belief that we'd find a way to deal with them.
Gabe picked up his diagram of the motor home and lifted an eyebrow. “Twice, babe. Want to go for three?”
I rolled my eyes at him and tried not to squirm at the pleasant thought. “Try to concentrate on something besides sex.” I reached out and took the diagram from him.
It was Shane's sitting area with the captain chairs, the couch, and the big-screen TV. Gabe had drawn Shane's body where it fell a few feet from the door. “So the killer got a little ways into the motor home?”
“And shut the door,” Gabe said,
I looked up.
“Blood spatter.”
Ugh. Thankfully he hadn't drawn that in. I assumed he meant some of Shane's blood hit the door where it had been shut. I kept looking at the drawing. Then I realized what that told us. “Someone was in the motor home when Shane went in. That's why Shane was closest to the door and some of his blood hit the door.” I shuddered at the thought. I didn't like Shane, but killing him in cold blood was wrong.
“Exactly,” Gabe confirmed.
I frowned and looked the hard lines Gabe had drawn to resemble the motor home. Shane was on the floor, but something was missing. “Wait, where are the dogs?” I looked up at Gabe. “Do we know if the dogs were poisoned or drugged?” That seemed really important.
Gabe sat down with his coffee. “Drugged. Sleeping pills or something like that. And they were on Shane's bed.”
I sat back in my chair and tried to get a picture in my head of how it happened. “Did they feel sick and go climb up on his bed? Or did the killer put them there?”
Gabe said, “First off, the dogs each had one of those doggie beds by Shane's bed so I doubt they got up on his bed.” He tapped the picture. “If I were the killer, I'd want the dogs where Shane wouldn't see them when he walked in. Sure he'd be suspicious that they didn't come running, but if he saw them sprawled on the ground, his instincts would go on high alert.”
“So the killer got inside, drugged the dogs, and maybe he put them on the bed. But couldn't he have just dragged them out of his way instead of lifting them onto the bed?” I thought about that. “And he didn't kill the dogs. He went to the trouble of tranquilizing them. He likes dogs. It might be that he knows dogs well enough to know how to get them to eat the tranquilizer.”
“If that's how he administered it,” Gabe pointed out.
True. “Now what about the other body Vance said was the hit man?”
Gabe said, “They found him in an abandoned house. The house was clean except for a plastic cup, and there were no prints, just the strong smell of alcohol. No bottles of alcohol or pills or even bandages. Just a sleeping bag the dead man was lying on and the cup. The theory is that the hit man met up with the person who hired him. That person brought the alcohol and pills in the guise of helping the hit man but ultimately ended up killing him.”
That was cold. “But how do the police know it's not suicide?”
He sipped his coffee. “There'd be bottles of liquor, a wallet, something. The place was cleaned. Not robbed, cleaned.”
I nodded. “And so maybe it was the same tranquilizer or sleeping pills used on the dogs.” I thought of the sleeping pills we had found in Bo's motel room. I tried to be objective, but the dogs bothered me. “Bo doesn't like dogs. He doesn't know anything about them.”
Gabe shrugged. “Doesn't take a dog lover to roll up a sleeping pill in a chunk of hamburger.”
It didn't add up. “But lifting them up on the bed?”
“Getting them out of the way.”
He was playing devil's advocate. “Maybe.”
“But you don't think so.”
I shook my head but said, “I don't know. Do we know if Bo has a gun? What kind of gun did the killer use?”
“Not yet. A small .22 pistol. Up close and personal, and not a lot of room for mistakes. A hit man would never use a .22.”
That struck me. “I don't know a whole lot about guns, but going from trying to use a hit man to killing him personally with a close-up-type gun—that sounds like our killer's getting angrier or perhaps the stakes are rising. But how did the killer get into the motor home to get that close? It's back against some trees, but wouldn't someone see a person skulking around?”
Gabe sat forward. “The door had a scrape on it, probably from lock picks. I couldn't be sure if they were from the hit man who broke in on Monday night or something more recent. That's part of why I went in.” His face hardened, and he cast his gaze over my cheek and eye. “Plus I saw Shane's SUV there. I knew the bastard was inside.”
My heart tripped over. The message was that nothing had been going to stop Gabe from going after the man who hit me. “You have a lot in common with your brother,” I muttered.

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