Breathe (29 page)

It was also weirdly hot.

“Jesus, are you fuckin’ serious?” I heard him ask in what had to be a rude greeting then finish, “Jon, I’m off-duty. Very fuckin’ off-duty and this would be why I didn’t answer the fuckin’ phone.”

Right, Chace was cursing more than normal. He was pissed. I knew this but I had a feeling his pissed-ness had increased after finding out who was at the door.

“I know that but we need you on this one, Chace, or I wouldn’t be out here. You’re our most experienced detective,” another voice sounded.

“Frank might have passed the test only a few months ago but he’s been around these parts since birth, clean and on the job awhile. He’ll do fine,” Chace told him.

“It’s a murder, Chace.”

My breath left me and my body stilled.

“Fuck,” I heard Chace clip.

“Darren Newcomb,” Jon told him.

Suddenly, all the way from the front of the house, a white-hot current of electricity streamed through.

It was so intense, I twisted woodenly on my stool to face that way as Jon went on, “Brother, sorry, so sorry, brother, but he was found on the access road up to Miracle Ranch about ten feet from where they found your wife. And buddy, this sucks, I hate to share this shit, but Newcomb was done just like her.”

At these words, my body having a mind of its own, I ignored the terrifying current still streaming and moved quickly through the massive kitchen to the hall.

I saw through the hall that the front door was open, storm door closed. The uniformed policeman that was at the reception desk when I went to the Station was standing just inside Chace’s lit foyer. Chace’s body was still and his jaw in profile was hard, both in a way that made my heart clench.

Jon’s eyes cut to me when I moved through the hall then they cut to Chace. I saw them drop to his shirt, taking in the opened buttons and they came back to me. He shifted uncomfortably, likely reading into the situation somewhat inaccurately since the action wasn’t interrupted but reading accurately there was action.

This would normally mortify me.

But my focus was entirely on getting to Chace.

Which was what I did. Immediately, I moved into him. His arm came up in a distracted way, curling around my shoulders as I fitted my front to his side and my arms moved to circle his middle.

“Honey?” I called as he stared silently at Officer Jon.

When my word sounded, his body jerked slightly, he looked down at me and muttered, “Go back to the kitchen, darlin’.”

“I’m good here,” I refused gently, giving his middle squeeze.

He dipped his face close and repeated quietly, “Go back to the kitchen, baby.”

I pulled in breath, squared my shoulders, held his eyes and repeated (kind of), “Chace, honey, I’m good
here.
”

“Backbone,” he murmured, his gaze drifting around my head and shoulders then it sliced to Jon. “Send someone to check Harker’s Wood. I’ll get Faye sorted and then I’m on my way.”

Oh God. Holy frak.

Harker’s Wood.

I’d heard of Darren Newcomb but I didn’t know how. His name was just familiar.

But whoever he was, this had something to do with Misty.

“Frank’s already on that. Got a cruiser headin’ that way. Frank’s with the body,” Jon replied.

“Call him, tell him I’ll go to the body first. The wood second. Anyone on the family?” Chace returned.

Jon shifted uncomfortably again as he shook his head.

“Fuck,” Chace muttered then, “Right. Body, wood, then I’ll go to his family.”

I didn’t like that but even if I didn’t, it was his job. Unfortunately, murders were happening in Carnal on an alarmingly frequent basis. Well, that wasn’t true. Just Tonia Payne, a waitress who was killed by Dalton McIntyre. Then there was Neeta, Tate’s old girlfriend though she didn’t live in Carnal, she was just murdered by McIntyre who did live in Carnal and also did
all
his killing here. And, of course, Misty Keaton. But still, that was three people I semi-knew in the last few years when I’d lived there near to my whole life without a one.

Though I suspected even if you informed a hundred families a loved one had died or something bad had happened, it would never get any more fun.

“Right Chace,” Jon muttered then he looked at me. “Sorry, uh… Faye, is it?”

Like he didn’t know. I’d been with Chace at the Italian place, The Rooster and Bubba’s. The talk hadn’t come to me but I was no dummy. The town was buzzing.

Anyway, I’d given him my name at the police station three weeks ago.

“Yes, Faye.” I offered my hand but stayed close to Chace, with my other arm wrapped around his back. “Jon?”

“Jon, yeah.” He took my hand and gave it a squeeze while giving me a small smile appropriate to an introduction on the heels of giving the news that someone had been murdered. “Sorry to interrupt but, uh… nice to meet you, formal like.”

“You too, Jon,” I said quietly and pulled my hand away.

He let it go and looked up at Chace.

“See you, um… there,” he murmured, dipped his chin to me then walked to the door.

Chace gave my shoulders a squeeze. I read the command, dropped my arm and he followed Jon.

“Later,” he muttered, Jon looked over his shoulder at Chace, jerked up his chin then took off.

Chace closed the door and turned to me.

“I’ll just uh… go, um… find my purse and head home.”

I was thinking about where my purse might have gotten to so I jumped a little when I felt Chace’s hands settle on either side of my neck and my head tilted back to catch his eyes.

Then I caught my breath at what I saw.

“Please, honey,” he whispered, “make tacos. Eat ‘em. Watch television. Do whatever. But however it ends, when you go to sleep, crawl into my bed.”

Oh God.

I blinked, my belly warmed, my heart skipped, my hands came up to curl around his wrists and my mind couldn’t decide whether to be scared, excited or freaked.

“Chace –” I whispered back, not sure what else I was going to say but not getting the chance to say it.

His hands squeezed my neck, gripping firm but not hard. His face got closer. “Please, Faye, whatever this is, when I get home from it, I want to slide into my bed with you bein’ in it.”

“Okay,” I agreed quietly and it was Chace’s turn to blink.

“What?”

“Okay,” I repeated. “I’ll stay. I’ll eat tacos. I’ll watch TV. If you’re not home, I’ll go to sleep in your bed.”

His head moved away an inch but his voice was still soft when he asked, “Easy as that?”

“You want me here?” I asked back.

He didn’t answer that. That raw warmth washed through his face and he murmured, “Christ, Faye.”

I finished as if he answered yes.

“Then I’m here.”

His fingers gripped harder and he clipped a guttural, “Christ, Faye,” that hurt to hear but for some reason felt good all the same.

I squeezed his wrists. “Go, so you can get back. I’m hungry so I have to cook.” I rolled up on my toes and concluded, “I’ll leave the champagne for tomorrow.”

It was then his hands at my neck gave me a rough jerk toward him but he didn’t kiss me. His hands left my neck so his arms could close around me tight.

And he hugged me.

I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around him and pressed my cheek to his chest because it felt good.

It also felt bad and this was because I knew he was feeling something ugly and I couldn’t protect him from it. The only thing I could do was sleep in his bed as he asked. And that meant so much to him; he man communicated it with a hug.

And really, if you communicated that way, who needed words?

That said it all.

I hugged him just as tight or as close as I could get seeing as he was stronger than me.

This lasted not long enough for me before I felt his lips at the top of my hair and he said, “Dresser, middle right are my tees. Tag one when you go to sleep, yeah?”

I nodded though I didn’t know about that. I’d brought a sexy nightie. I now had a conundrum. The sexy nightie (for Chace) or his tee (for me).

I didn’t choose before he kissed the top of my hair, gave me a squeeze and let me go.

But I felt the tips of his middle three fingers light under my chin and I again did as he silently commanded and gave him my face.

“This probably won’t go quick but I’ll get home soon’s I can.”

I nodded.

His fingers slid like a whisper over my jaw making the skin of my neck and cheek tingle in a good way as he whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

He grinned, a small grin that didn’t reach his eyes. Then he bent his head and touched his mouth to mine.

I got another mouth touch after he went to his bedroom, I went to the kitchen and started rooting through for dinner fixin’s and he came back wearing his sweater, jacket and boots.

He left.

I made tacos. I ate tacos.

I put the leftovers in one of those reusable but disposable tubs that Chace, upon inspection, seemed to have a lot of.

I watched his big flat screen TV.

When the clock was about to strike midnight, I took off my makeup, moisturized, brushed my teeth, put on my sexy nightie and slid into Chace’s bed.

I thought I’d never get to sleep, what with where my body was resting. A place it had never rested in twenty-nine years, not only it being Chace’s bed, but
any
man’s.

But his mattress was the fraking
bomb.
It felt like a firm cloud.

So, seconds after my head hit one of his pillows, I was out like a light.

Chapter Nine

Worth the Wait

I swam up from sleep, feeling warm, delicious, my eyes fluttering open and closed as I felt weird sensations at my back and waist.

My eyes kept fluttering as a warm body fitted itself to the curve of mine, a strong arm circled my belly and pulled gently back so my warm body fit snugger into the one behind me.

Chace was home.

“Honey?” I called, my voice barely audible.

His arm around my belly gave me a squeeze. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

God, he really felt nice. Everything felt nice. His awesome mattress. The down comforter over us. Pillows that were just the right mixture of firm and yielding. The warm cocoon we were in. Chace the length of me, holding me close.

Then where he’d been, why he’d been there and the nuance of Misty that was attached to it penetrated. My eyes quit fluttering, my consciousness quit doing the same and I came awake.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

“Go back to sleep, Faye,” he whispered back.

I laid there in the curve of his body, beyond comfortable, warm, safe, having had a nice night in a nice house and not being out in the cold dark investigating a murder and telling a family someone they loved was dead.

Then I moved my hand to his at my belly.

When I asked it this time, it was firmer.

“Chace, are you okay?”

His fingers extended out, mine fell through, his caught mine, lacing them and he closed both of our fingers tight.

Then he said quietly, “No. But I’ll be all right after I sleep.”

I pulled my hand from his but immediately turned in his arm.

He immediately adjusted with my body’s movements as he started, “Faye –”

I wrapped my arm around his waist, pressed close and asked, “Do you need to talk?”

“I need to sleep,” he answered.

“Maybe you should talk,” I suggested quietly and cautiously.

“Actually, baby, what I need is sleep.”

“It was bad,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

Oh jeez.

“So you should talk,” I urged softly.

“Honey, you’re sweet but what I need is sleep.”

“You should get it out.”

His arm around my waist tightened and his voice got a little impatiently growly when he said a warning, “Faye.”

“It isn’t good to sleep on stuff, Dad says so,” I pressed.

“Your father is a wise man but I’m not bein’ nice, shieldin’ you. It’s late and I really need sleep.”

I pressed closer to him and whispered, “You bury stuff, it can fester.”

“Faye –”

“You have to work it out.”

“Faye, honey, seriously –”

“You don’t want to talk, then work it out another way. Make love to me.”

His body went completely still, he said not a word and I was with him on both counts.

Did I actually say that?