Tied Bond (Holly Woods Files, #4) (16 page)

“Fine. But she leaves the parrot.”

Nonna opens her mouth to argue.

“No!” I point a finger at her. “The parrot stays. I work a lot at home and I can’t concentrate if that thing will be flirting with me every two seconds. And I cannot stress this enough: I do not want that parrot in my house.”

“Leave the parrot, Mamma,” Dad agrees with me. “It’ll piss Kellie off.”

Ah. Gotta love a man who knows how to play the women in his life, especially when they’re his constantly feuding mother and wife.

“
Eccellente
!” Nonna claps her hands together then unties her apron. “I will-a pack!”

“Yay,” I squeak out.

Good God. This is going to be hell. Hell.

And to think: I only came for ice cream.

Shit.

“N
onna’s what?” Drake frowns, handing me a glass of wine.

I take it, raise it to my lips, and tip. Three mouthfuls later, I’m putting an empty glass down on his dining table and sliding it across to him. “Nonna is living with me for the next few days.”

“Is Gio there too?”

I stare at him flatly. “I’d rather pull my intestines out with a pair of tweezers and then knit them into a scarf than have that parrot at my house.”

He raises an eyebrow as he hands me another glass of wine. “But you’ll have Nonna?”

“I was forced into having Nonna. It’s like when you’re fifteen years old and want to go out with your friends but have to look after your little brother because he’s a hell-raiser, and your older brothers both have plans and because they have driver’s licenses and can run away and lump it on you.” I take the wine and have two mouthfuls. It takes all my restraint not to finish this second glass. “It was I take her or my whole family implodes from stress.”

“Wow. She left without the parrot.”

“She pointed a knife at my mother. It was being able to visit Gio from my house or jail, I think.”

Drake laughs and walks through to the living room. I follow him, making sure to grab the bottle of wine off the counter as I do. What? There’s only a mouthful left in this glass. It’ll save me the trip.

I join him on the sofa and rest my legs over his. “How are you?”

“Great. I love paperwork when I’m locked out of half the system.” He rubs his hand through his hair and drops his head on the back of the sofa. “It’s hard. I have to keep calling people to send me stuff because I can’t access a bunch of the files.”

“That seems kinda drastic, don’t you think? What’s the problem with you looking at the files if you’re not on the case? Dev isn’t on the case, but I bet he could access them.”

He rolls his head toward me, and his blue eyes are tired. I reach forward and rub my thumb across the stubble dotting the sharp curve of his jaw. He turns his face to me, a smile curving his lips.

“But Dev isn’t likely to examine the information so his mom is eliminated as a suspect.”

“So don’t use it to eliminate her as a suspect.”

“I can’t. It’s not in my nature to do that, no matter my job. I don’t think she did it, sweetheart. If I had access to those files…” He sighs and rolls his right shoulder. “I hate to admit it, but I’d use it to try to prove her innocence.”

“Are they even looking—never mind. You won’t know.”

His smile returns. “No. They’re not. They can lock me out of the files, but until they soundproof the doors…”

I tut and shake my head. “I am a bad influence on you, Detective Nash,” I say, lightly prodding his chest.

“I think you’re an excellent influence on me, Ms. Bond.” He leans forward and, sliding his hand up my thigh, lowers his body on top of me.

His mouth finds mine as my arms wrap around his neck, and in a flash of lips and tongue mixing together, I’m lying back on the sofa, his strong body over me as he kisses me.

Heat floods through me as his tongue flicks over my lips. His hands dive into my hair, and like a switch has been flipped, the kiss goes from playful to desperate. His T-shirt falls away from his toned body, and as I slide my hands downward and beneath the material, his skin is hot. My fingers trace the dips and curves of his muscles as he kisses me hungrily.

After the last few days, this is perfect. The idea of losing myself in him is exactly what I need. To feel nothing but him and forget everything else on the outside. I know he needs it too. Probably more than I do.

So I succumb to him. As his hands explore my body and our clothes are discarded onto the floor. As he pushes inside me and grips my hips, pulling me against him so snugly that the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubs against my swollen clit. We move together, each thrust getting deeper and harder. Pleasure flies through my veins and shivers cascade over my skin. His hot breath sweeps across my neck. Goosebumps cover my skin when he kisses me, swallowing my moan.

His fingers probe my skin, teasing from my hips, over my breasts and hard nipples, to the back of my neck. He cups my head, my hair winding around his hand, and he tugs lightly. It heightens my pleasure as my legs tense around his waist. He quietly groans my name and drives into me harder. My back arches at the same time his muscles tighten. We’re so close we’re practically one person, and then—

Boom. My orgasm hits like a fucking firework display, erupting through my body so ferociously I have to hold my breath to get through it.Drake collapses on top of me, a light, happy chuckle escaping his lips.

“See?” I whisper, breathing heavily, my eyes still closed. “Bad influence.”

“That was all me,” he murmurs back, running his lips along my jaw until he finds my mouth. He softly kisses me then gets up, easing himself out of me and then grabbing his boxers. He wraps them around his cock as he walks out of the room, and I frown.

What?

He comes back five seconds later wearing a different, hopefully clean, pair. “Aren’t you getting up? I was going to order dinner, and as much as I appreciate the view, I don’t want the takeout delivery guy to see you lying on my sofa with your legs open.”

I blink quickly. “As reassuring as your appreciation of me is, I have no intention of showing anyone my nether regions.”

“Did you just refer to your pussy as your nether regions?”

“No. Obviously, I was referring to my shoulder.” I prop myself up on my elbows and roll my eyes. “Can I get a towel, please?”

“What for?” He’s staring at my vagina.

It’s oddly uncomfortable. I mean, sure. Put your hand there. Pound the shit out of it with your cock. Hell, put your mouth there and explore it with your tongue. But look at it? No. Just, no.

“Please stop looking at my vagina.” I close my legs.

He snaps his eyes up to me. I swear he has puppy-dog eyes right now.

“I need a towel because, and I hope you’re prepared for a science lesson here, but when you orgasm, yours comes out and up me. And that is the problem. It goes up me, and what goes up must come down. So, unless you’d like me to drip both my and your cum all over your nice clean floor, you’ll get me a towel.”

Drake stares at me. Doesn’t say a word. Just…stares.

I grab a throw cushion and cover my boobs with it. “It’s also messy on your sofa.”

He turns and disappears only to return thirty seconds later with a towel. He throws it at me and reaches for his pants, which are in a heap on the floor next to the coffee table. “I have no idea how to respond to all of that, so I’m just going to smile, nod, and go order pizza.”

“Oooh, pizza.” I just catch his amused side-eye and curve of his lips before he leaves the room.

I clean up. Then, with the towel unattractively wedged between my legs, I throw my bra and my shirt on and go in search of clean underwear, because I know for a fact I have panties here.

More to the point: Have you ever tried to go upstairs with a towel between your legs? I have a word of advice.

Don’t.

I pull a pair of panties from his drawer, deciding to ignore how many are sitting there prettily next to his boxers. Or not, because when did I bring so much underwear to his house? Hmm…

When I’m dressed, I go back downstairs, retrieve my jeans from the floor, then put them on. I find Drake in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher. There’s something to be said about a shirtless man doing household chores, isn’t there? Especially when his body would make a stone gargoyle cry tears of delight.

I slide onto a chair and lean forward, propping my head up on my hands to watch him. Good God. He’s really quite beautiful.

“The pizza will be here in ten minutes. Stop looking at me like I’m your dinner.”

“You could be.”

“Stop it.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder.

“All right, all right.” I sit back with a laugh. “So you interrupted me before I could ask you what else you discovered by eavesdropping on your colleagues.”

“Do we have to talk about this?”

“Yes.” Because I need information, and the things he’ll find out by eavesdropping are things I can’t get online.

“They aren’t looking for anyone else unless the DNA comes back with something that rules out her involvement.” He puts two mugs in the cupboard and closes the dishwasher. “They’re certain she did it because of the sheer amount of circumstantial evidence.”

“When will the DNA results come in?”

“Next week if pigs fly.”

As the doorbell rings, he shrugs and grabs his wallet. He pulls a twenty-dollar bill from it and goes to get the pizza.

I slump forward onto the table.
Shit.
He just confirmed what I think I already knew.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I have to get some answers.

A
fter swinging by my house to make sure Nonna hasn’t turned it into a makeshift Italian restaurant and finding her asleep in the spare room, I drive to Rosie’s Café. I’m absolutely determined to kick-start this investigation today. I’ve been assing around on it for far too long.

I pull up at the end of the street and grab my purse. My car beeps as I lock it, and I turn my full attention to Rosie’s. Man, I hope she’s there. It’ll save me a trip to her house. Not that I mind, really, but you know. Her house is out of the way, and I’m hoping to head to the Oleander after this to see Kat.

The bell rings as I walk into the café. Relief floods me as I see the familiar sight of Rosie standing behind the counter, her graying hair tied up into a bun as she fixes a coffee. My lips twitch into something that’s barely a smile, and she turns to hand a coffee to the person in line.

Her eyes find mine as soon as the customer has moved away, and I walk to the counter.

“Hey, Rosie. How are you doing?”

“Oh, shucks, Noelle. I’m just fine. Needed a couple days to myself is all.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Corinne said you’d stopped by.”

I wince at my failure to see her. “I’m sorry. I meant to bring you some of Nonna’s ice cream but ended up with her as a houseguest instead.” At her confused expression, I add, “Don’t worry. I don’t quite know how it happened, either.”

“Don’t you worry. What can I get for you? The usual?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping we could talk.”

She sighs and wipes her hands on a towel. “I was afraid you’d say that.” She puts the towel on the rack behind her. “Corinne!” she calls through the back. “Can you come watch the counter for a moment?”

Rustling, and then Corinne says, “Sure, Aunt Rosie.” She appears through the door. Today she’s in full make up, her hair tied in a high ponytail, and I’m not entirely sure her shoes are appropriate for working in a café, but they sure are cute. “Hi, Noelle.”

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt whatever you’re doing.”

“Just sorting stock. Is everything okay?”

“Noelle needs a little help for something, and I’m happy to oblige her,” Rosie answers for me. “Make two coffees, will you, darlin’? She has a vanilla latte.”

“Sure.”

Rosie pulls her apron off and straightens her dress. Then she leads me to a table by the door. We sit opposite each other. She leans forward and rests her arms on the table before dropping her head down. Her shoulders heave as she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Well, talk, darlin’. Starin’ at me ain’t gonna getcha the answers you want.”

“You and Wally…”