Authors: Stephanie Bond
shudder of anticipation rol ed over her body.
Coop parted her knees and lowered his head.
A knock sounded, and through the door Wesley said,
“Coop!”
They looked at each other through her legs and sighed in
abject frustration. “Ignore him,” she urged.
“Good idea.” Coop dipped his head.
But before he could touch down, another knock sounded,
this time more insistent. “Coop! I need to talk to you now!
It’s important!”
“I’m going to make you an only child,” Coop muttered,
pushing himself off the bed and grabbing his glasses.
“Be my guest.” Carlotta snatched her jeans from the floor
and struggled into them. Then she turned her back to the
door to awkwardly refasten her bra and blouse. She could
hear the men arguing in undertones in the hall.
She turned on the light. “What’s going on?”
Coop looked back from the door, his face a mask of
resigned frustration. “Wesley says his arm is hurting bad.
I’m going to take a look at it.”
Disappointment over the interruption warred with
concern for Wesley. “I’l go with you.”
Wesley’s face appeared in the doorway. “You don’t have
to, Sis. Just go on to bed.”
She knew that face, knew that tone. He didn’t want her to
see what was under the bandage. While Coop pul ed on
his shirt, she grabbed her key, then fol owed them to their
room.
“I’m staying,” she told Wesley when he started to protest.
Coop used a pair of scissors from his toiletry kit to cut off
the soiled and soggy bandage. Carlotta gasped at the sight
of the red, swol en skin underneath and the ugly slashes in
Wesley’s thin arm. “You didn’t get that from a bicycle
accident. What happened?”
But her brother appeared to have gone deaf.
“They’re knife wounds,” Coop said quietly, looking at
Wesley, who was staring at the floor.
“Knife wounds? Someone stabbed you?”
“Someone cut him,” Coop said when her brother wouldn’t
answer.
She leaned closer. “Are those…letters? C…A…R? Why
would someone cut ‘CAR’ into your arm?” Then she
covered her mouth. “The Carver—he cut his name into
your arm?”
“Not his entire name,” Wesley mumbled.
“He speaks,” Coop said dryly. “Chief, your arm is infected.
You need antibiotics, pronto.” He looked up at Carlotta.
“We need to take him to an emergency room.”
“No,” Wesley said. “It’l cost a lot of money that we don’t
have.”
“I’l pay for it,” Coop said.
“No,” he said. “I won’t go.”
“Wesley, you need medicine,” Carlotta said, her maternal
instincts rearing.
“Can’t you write me a prescription for antibiotics?” he
asked Coop. “Maybe give me a shot?”
Coop hesitated. “I could, but I’d prefer you see a doctor.”
“You’re a doctor.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Come on, man. I trust you more than some doctor I don’t
even know.”
Coop looked up at Carlotta.
“It’s your call,” she said.
He checked his watch. “Okay, I’l go get what I need and be
back as soon as I can.” He stood and she walked with him
to the door.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“So am I,” he said with a sigh. “It might be late by the time
I get back, and then I’l have to redress his arm.” He
scrubbed at his face and sighed. “Maybe we can try this
again tomorrow?”
Carlotta smiled and nodded. But as Coop strode way, she
couldn’t help feeling that what might have been had just
slipped through her fingers.
14
Even with his earbuds in for his iPod, Wesley could feel the
silent treatment he was receiving from the pair in the front
seat. He knew what he’d interrupted last night between
Carlotta and Coop, and he wasn’t sorry. If his sister slept
with Coop, the man would become completely pussy-
whipped. And Carlotta would be distancing herself further
from Peter.
And he had promised Peter he’d do everything he could to
help him win Carlotta back.
After Peter had forked over the twenty-five grand, Wesley
had said he didn’t know how he’d ever repay him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Peter had said, then smiled. “I do
something for you, you do something for me.”
“Like what?”
“Like put in a good word for me with Carly when you can,
and try to keep your boss and that cop away from her.”
“I can’t be with her all the time,” he’d told the man.
“I know. Just do what you can.” Peter had clapped him on
the back. “I can give Carlotta the life she deserves, Wesley.
I love her and I want her back. Do this for me and we’re
even.”
In the rearview mirror Wesley could see the strain on his
boss’s face, the anxious glances he shot in Carlotta’s
direction, the way he looked at her when he thought no
one was watching. The man had it bad for his sister, but
he’d get over it.
Just like he himself would get over E. Jones someday.
He removed the earbuds and stuck his head between their
seats. “How much longer to Boca?”
“Another couple of hours,” Coop said.
“Good, we’l have all afternoon on the beach.”
“How’s your arm?” Coop asked.
“Better,” he said, wiggling it. “Those antibiotics must be
potent.” And the OxyContin was doing its thing.
“The shot was strong. But you stil have to take all the pil s
I gave you.”
“You should’ve gone to Coop in the first place,” Carlotta
said.
“I tried to call Coop when The Carver let me go, but he
didn’t answer. I didn’t want you to see me like that, so I
called Peter. I thought you’d be happy about that.”
Carlotta frowned. “Why?”
“Because I know you and Peter have gotten close again,”
Wesley said, talking fast. “He showed me the ring.”
Carlotta turned around, her eyes wide. Coop jerked the
steering wheel and swerved, then corrected. “What ring?”
“Carlotta’s engagement ring,” Wesley said his sister. He
looked at Carlotta. “You didn’t tel Coop?”
“You’re engaged?” Coop practically shouted.
“No, I’m not engaged,” Carlotta said, shooting lasers at
Wesley with her eyes.
“So what’s all this about a ring?” Coop asked, stil sounding
panicked.
Wesley felt guilty watching his sister squirm.
“It’s the engagement ring that Peter gave me ten years
ago,” she said finally. “I had to pawn it to pay bil s. Peter
somehow found it and bought it back.”
“And upgraded it,” Wesley offered. “Had a big-ass
diamond mounted on either side of the big-ass diamond
that was already there. It’s humongous. And it’s Cartier.”
Coop’s face was turning gray. “Where is it?” he asked
Carlotta, staring at her hand.
“Peter has it,” she murmured.
“He’s holding it for her,” Wesley confirmed, then sat back.
From the way Coop and Carlotta were looking—and not
looking—at each other, he had a feeling he wouldn’t have
to create a diversion tonight to keep them in separate
rooms.
His arm twinged, so he reached into his bag to get another
pain pil , but his phone rang. When he glanced at the
display, his heart surged. It was E.
Playing it cool, he let it ring twice before answering. “This
is Wes.”
“Wesley, hi, this is E. Jones.”
“Hi, E., what’s up?”
“Just checking in,” she said. “Where are you?”
“I’m in sunny Florida. And the beach is fantastic.” He
hoped it conjured up images of him frolicking with lots of
scantily dressed women.
“You really should tel me when you’re going out of town,”
she said, chastising him. “I called because I received
notification from the court that you didn’t make your
weekly payment on your fine. If you can’t afford to pay
your fine, how can you afford to go on vacation?”
He sobered. “I’m actually on a job with Coop.”
“You’re picking up a body?”
“Yeah. We’re on our way to—”
Coop signaled him in the mirror with a finger to his mouth.
“It’s confidential.”
“We’re on our way…there,” Wesley said into the phone.
“When wil you be back in Atlanta?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
“And when wil you be able to make a payment to the
court?”
“Monday.”
“Okay, I’l let them know. But this can’t happen again.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, Wesley. Be a man and honor your
commitments.”
The call was disconnected. He sat there listening to the
silence for a few seconds as frustration welled in his chest.
Be a man like her boyfriend, Leonard, who was up to his
dick in bad news?
“Who was on the phone?” Carlotta asked.
“My probation officer.”
“Sorry for interrupting,” Coop said, “but this is supposed to
be a quiet job. I had to sign a confidentiality agreement
and that extends to the two of you.”
“Who are we picking up, anyway?”
“Kiki Deerling.”
“The celebrity chick with the shaved taco?”
Coop frowned. “Show some respect, okay?”
His arm was really hurting now. He pul ed out one of the
OxyContin pil s and rol ed it around in his mouth. What
was it Chance had said? If you want to feel like you’ve just
been laid by the woman of your dreams, chew it.
It might be as close to having E. Jones in his bed as he’d
ever get. Wesley bit down on the tablet and winced
against the bitter taste. But as the tablet dissolved, he felt
an immediate rush of pleasure. And within a few minutes,
he felt better than he’d ever felt in his life. Light. Carefree.
Euphoric.
He put his earbuds back in, cranked up Stone Temple
Pilots and settled back against the seat. Damn, he could
get used to this.
15
Coop rol ed down the window. “Smel that?”
Carlotta lowered her window and inhaled. “The ocean?”
“Money,” he said with a wry smile. “Boca Raton has some
of the most expensive real estate on the East Coast.”
And it looked it. The buildings were higher and more state-
of-the-art. The palm trees were taller and more
picturesque, the grass was greener and more manicured.
The streets were jammed with beautiful people sporting
cruise wear and eye-popping gobs of bling.
“TV news vans are everywhere,” Carlotta said, pointing out
the window. “Everyone is fascinated by Kiki Deerling’s
death.”
“With all this media, how are we supposed to get the body
out of town undetected?” Wesley asked.
“The morgue told me they have extra security, with vans
going in and out all the time. No one wil know which van
the body is in. They’ve even arranged to install a Florida
license plate on the back when we get there in the
morning so no one wil be suspicious when we leave the
property.”
“Wow,” Carlotta said, shaking her head. “The poor girl is
more popular now than when she was alive.”
“Death as a career move,” Wesley muttered.
“I can’t imagine this many people caring whether I was
dead or alive,” Carlotta commented. At her fake funeral,
most of the people had attended out of curiosity, to see if
her parents would show.
“Apparently, a lot of us would care,” Coop said lightly.
She averted her gaze. She could strangle Wesley for
bringing up the engagement ring, but she was actually
more angry with herself for not being able to deal with all
the loose ends in her life. As much as she’d yearned to
have Coop in her bed last night, this morning she was
relieved that nothing had happened. The news of the ring
Peter was “holding” for her made her look indecisive at
best. On the heels of a night of unbridled passion, it would
have made her look like something else altogether.
She felt miserable every time she made eye contact with
Coop.
The hotel was nicer than anyplace she’d ever stayed, and
Wesley was excited that the pool area featured a half-
dozen hot tubs. Despite being so irritable yesterday, he
was in a great mood now. His arm had to be feeling better,
Carlotta realized, thankful more than ever to Coop.
When he carried her suitcase into her room, tension stil
vibrated between them. “Coop, I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“About the complicated mess my life is.”
He pushed her hair behind her ear. “I guess that’s what
makes you so irresistible.”
“I feel like I’ve ruined this entire trip.”
“Not at all.” He winked. “Let’s go enjoy the beach, okay?”
Her heart expanded and she nodded grateful y. “I’l put on
my suit and meet you and Wesley downstairs in fifteen
minutes.”
He left her room and she sank to the bed, letting out a
sigh. Would she ever get her act together? Inside her bag,
her cel phone rang. She glanced at the screen and gave a
little laugh. It was Hannah calling. She flipped open the
phone. “Hel o?”
Silence.
“Hannah, this is childish, don’t you think?”
More silence.
Carlotta disconnected the call, shaking her head. She
unzipped her suitcase and withdrew a Karla Col etto red
one-piece bathing suit. With all the cutouts, it was just as
skin-baring as a bikini, but was much easier to get on with