Fairest (10 page)

Nate and Terrell stayed with me, but Carly took the others to her room. I didn't want them re-traumatized and further involved, especially when I knew the police would come. I sighed, knowing I would never again be welcome at the New Orleans Marriott.

At eleven o'clock that night, a knock came on Nate's door. I slid off his bed, and Terrell went with me to check the peephole. I saw a man with short, dark hair in a dark suit with a shaggy-headed, ill-looking Linc standing next to him. I hadn't expected him to come.

“Skye,” Linc said, and his father put his hand on his son's arm.

I nodded to Terrell and then opened the door. “Hello, Mister Moore,” I said. “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, and I thank you for helping me.” I held out my hand to him.

He shook it and said, “Anything for one of Linc's friends.”

When Mister Moore released my hand, Linc pushed around him and grabbed me in a bear hug. “I'm glad you're okay,” he said as he pressed his cheek onto the top of my head. Still unsure if he had fully evolved from bully to friend, I tentatively put my arms around him.

Once he released me, I introduced Linc and his father to Terrell and Nate. I told Mister Moore that I had been unable to get in touch with my father, and he assured me we could find some way to contact him. I went back over the story with Mister Moore. Then, we made a call to the front desk and let them call the police.

When they came, Mister Moore sat with me while I told my story to the police. When I told them why I wiped down the gun, they told me I had seen too many movies. They tried to call my daddy and were unsuccessful in reaching him. We had to bring Gina in to corroborate our stories, and I was glad she stayed calm. Once the crew from the coroner's office took the body away, the police asked us to come down to the station for another round of questioning.

After I told Carly where we were going, Terrell, Nate, Gina, and I followed the police down to their cars. Mister Moore and Linc rode in a cab and met us at the station. It was early in the morning, and I was tired. The last two days had been some of the longest of my life.

The police took pictures of my neck, and I drew them a sketch of my necklace. I told them my hair-brained ideas about Lizette and that it would be a crime against humanity if they held Terrell or Nate responsible for my attacker's death.

“I mean, you saw the hole he shot in the window and the wall. He pulled the trigger himself, no matter if Nate had his hand on the guy's wrist or Terrell touched the gun,” I insisted.

“It's okay, Miss Daniels,” tall, thin policeman Gimble said. “All the evidence points to it being an accident, and Gina's testimony supports what you've told us. We're going to release you into Mister Moore's custody until we can find out more about if and how your stepmother is involved.”

“What about Terrell and Nate?” I asked.

“They are both under eighteen, so we're releasing them to the state home. The other kids, too.”

“No.” I jumped to my feet. Through the interview, Linc had been sitting with me and holding my hand. When I stood, I jerked him up with me. “I promised them I would see after them.”

“They can't stay at the hotel,” Detective Gimble said.

“Find them a bed and breakfast, then. Somewhere that will feed them. I don't care. I am paying for it, and there won't be any trouble, as it was my fault they got involved in the first place. Please. If you saw where they'd been living,” I shook my head and tears came to my eyes, “I promised them, Detective Gimble.”

He blew out a puff of air. “Okay.” He flipped open his phone. “I'll see if we can set them up at Olivier House on Toulouse and Dauphine.”

“Okay, okay,” I nodded.

“Mister Moore, I think it's safest for Skye if you take her back to New York with you,” Detective Gimble said.

“Yes,” Linc said quickly and then looked at his father. “Sorry, sir.”

“No, it's fine,” Mister Moore said.

“We'll contact your stepmother and try to get a landline for Mister Daniels in Japan.” Detective Gimble turned to me. “Without telling her exactly, we'll hint that something bad has happened to you. Meanwhile, we'll get a search warrant for the house and look into our John Doe. Don't call her, and nobody should tell her where you are if she happens to get in contact with any of your friends.”

“She won't,” I said. “I don't have any friends, other than my new ones here.”

“The hell, Skye?” Linc jerked me sideways by our joined hands. “I think I'm a pretty good friend to you.”

In his father voice, Mister Moore said, “Lincoln, your mother and I did not raise you to speak like that.” Linc turned red, but I couldn't tell if it was from shame or anger.

I tugged on his hand until he looked at me. “Sorry.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, really. You are being a very good friend to me. It's just…well, you know. You don't have the best track record with me.”

He kept my hand in his while I waited for Terrell and Nate to be released and during the cab ride back to the hotel. The hotel manager had the rest of the gang and all our stuff clustered in the empty dining room. I gave Carly the address of the bed and breakfast and told her the gang was expected. I promised that I would come up with a better arrangement for them, but in the meantime, they weren't to worry. I was footing the bill for their stay, and if they had any needs the Olivier couldn't take care of, the staff there had instructions to run a tab.

I apologized profusely for getting them all into such a mess, but I swore I would make things right. When Mister Moore told me we needed to get going, I gave them all hugs—especially Terrell and Nate, whom I thanked for saving my life.

“Take care, Skye,” Terrell said.

“You, too. I'll see y'all soon,” I promised.

I'd never been on a private jet until Mister Moore escorted me aboard his. The inside looked like a posh living room with white, leather seats, a card table, and a little dining room. Linc said there was a bed if I wanted to lay down, and even though I was exhausted, I was too wired to sleep. Instead, I sat beside him.

Mister Moore took a seat that he swiveled around to face us. “Skye, Lincoln tells me that you tutor and date Whitney Hastings.”

“Yes, sir. I tutor him,” I said. “We've only been on one date, though. I'm not sure that counts as dating.”

“He introduced you to his parents,” Linc said. “Plenty of girls go to his house, but very few have been brought there by him.”

“Plenty,” I muttered and made a face.

“That didn't come out right,” Linc said. He looked at his father. “Whit wants to date her, but she's resisting because,” he paused and looked down at me briefly, “she's madly in love with me.”

“In your dreams,” I said and then clapped my hand over my mouth. Here I was insulting Linc in front of his father—a man who had just flown almost the length of the country to help me.

“Yes, in my dreams,” Linc said. “Excuse me, Father.”

He slid his hand up my cheek and turned my face. My eyes went wide as Linc pressed his lips to mine. With a slight rub, my lips parted, and he slid his tongue over my teeth. His thumb grazed over my cheekbone, and then he ended the kiss.

“Whew.” He flopped against his seatback. “I've wanted to do that for months, now.”

Mister Moore looked displeased, and I laughed nervously. “Ha. Uh, yeah. What could be a worse choice for a girlfriend than one whose stepmother is probably trying to kill her?” I wished I had my hoodie, so I could pull it over my head. Instead, I settled for looking down at my toes.

“Girlfriend?” Linc said with interest.

“None of that is your fault,” Mister Moore said.

I nodded but didn't look up at him. When he offered me a drink, I opted for ginger ale, which Mister Moore spiked with a touch of vodka. I looked at him, confused.

“You need to sleep. Just a little will help,” he explained. “
You
,” he said, glaring at Linc, “need to pace yourself. You're going to end up like your mother.”

Linc muttered something unintelligible under his breath and looked out the window into the dark night. I drank my ginger ale, wincing at the bite of the fizz and the sting of the vodka. Linc asked about the concert, so I launched into a play-by-play of the entire thing. It helped take my mind off the ordeal, and so did the vodka. The more of my drink that I had, the more I laughed and smiled and felt calm. Eventually, I ended up just sitting there, feeling warm, cozy, and a bit stuffy-nosed.

As I nodded off, I heard Linc say, “She's sweet, smart, and loyal. She's the most wonderful person I've ever met. I've never asked before; I just did. For her, I want your permission and blessing to date her.”

“I'll think about it,” Mister Moore said.

I felt Linc's warm hand slip around mine. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it. With a little urging, I fell over so that my head rested on his lap. As his fingers stroked through my hair, I drifted further to sleep.

When the phone rang at two in the morning, it scared the bejesus out of me. “Hello?” I asked, still groggy and half-drunk.

“Mrs. Daniels? This is Detective Graham Gimble with New Orleans PD. May I please speak with your husband?”

I sat up and flicked on my light. “He's out of the country. Can I help you?”

“It's in regard to his daughter, Skye. I really need to speak with him.”

I smiled. “He's in Japan. Has something happened? Is Skye okay?” I tried to sound appropriately worried.

“Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I really need to discuss it with him. Is there a number where I could reach him?”

“Oh, um, sure. Just give me a moment.” I got out of bed and slipped on my robe and slippers. After going downstairs and rummaging through my purse, I found the number Winston left me. I read it to the officer and then said, “You're worrying me, detective. Is there anything I can do?”

“Not right now, ma'am,” he said. “Just…if I were you, I would stay home for the next couple of days. If you have a security system, make sure it's armed.”

“Oh, my word,” I said. I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. “This sounds serious.”

“Yes, ma'am., It is. I'm sorry, but I can't give you any more details. I'm sure your husband will be in touch when he can. Thank you.”

“Yes, certainly, detective,” I said.

When he hung up, I put the phone down and did a quick fist pump. If cops were looking for Winston, it meant that the hit man had finally done his job. He hadn't called me, and if he called Colby, Colby hadn't called me. I checked my cell just to make sure that I hadn't passed out and missed it, but it showed no missed calls. So, he didn't call. Big deal. I was sure this meant someone had found Skye's body.

I began to daydream about what would soon follow. Winston would come home. We would grieve her passing and puzzle at why someone would do such a thing to “our” little girl. Then, Winston would change his will, and I would get not only my share but Skye's, too. I would continue living the way I had but with insurance for the future. In a few more years, Winston's heart would go caput, and I would be one stinking-rich widow. I could even sell the company…maybe even move to Europe. The Italian countryside always looked so lovely in magazines.

I woke as Linc carried me toward another cab. I snuggled my head against his arm and enjoyed the faint scent of his cologne. I heard Mister Moore tell Linc to take me to their home. He was going to his office for a while.

I slept through the cab ride and being carried into the house. I was aware of being laid upon something soft. I felt someone, undoubtedly Linc, remove my shoes. Then, warmth spread over me as he snuggled up to my back and spread a blanket over us.

“Linc,” I mumbled. “Be good.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said in a mock southern accent.

I tucked my arms against my chest with my fists under my chin. Linc wrapped his arm around me and held me close to his chest. It felt nice, safe, and not so lonely.

In the morning, I woke to find myself in Linc's bedroom and in his bed. Soccer trophies—there was a shelf of them above several shelves of books. All his furniture was dark wood, and his walls were burgundy. The spread was a paisley execution of the same burgundy as the wall—black, and a rather unusual shade of green that was just a tad darker than a grass snake. The room had a cave-feel to it that was comforting and made me want to go back to sleep.

I shifted and rolled over to find a shirtless Linc awake and looking at me. His hair was a tangled mess, which made me wonder if mine was just as horrible. When I patted at it, he took my hand in his.

“Good morning,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I'm living in some crazy parallel universe where my life is a ridiculously cheesy thriller,” I said and then yawned.

“I never knew anyone who was actually attacked by a hit man.” He brushed my hair back from my face.

I frowned. “I don't see how that's a good thing.”

“It makes you infinitely more interesting than anyone I've ever met, but then again, you already were before someone tried to kill you.”

“You must not have met many people.” I shifted back from him a bit. “Why am I in your room?”

“I've met plenty of people,” he said, shifting closer to me, again. “You're in my room, because I wanted to sleep next to you in my bed.” He grinned at me. “And I want you to make out with me.”

“I just woke up,” I protested, my eyes going wide. “I haven't brushed my teeth.”

“I don't care about that.” He pressed his lips to mine, and I reacted instantly and surprisingly—to me, anyway.

I slid my hand into the back of his hair and pressed my lips more firmly to his. “This is ridiculous,” I said, as he slid his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “I shouldn't feel this way about someone who is mean to me.”

“I'm not going to be mean to you, anymore,” he promised. “I'm going to be very nice.” He kissed me again and then stopped abruptly. “Wait. How
do
you feel about me?”

I craned my neck forward and kissed him softly. “For some reason, I like you, and…I actually want to make out with you.” My cheeks flushed, and I covered my face with my hand. “But, I'm scared.”

“Come here. Come here,” he said and pulled me so close that the front of our bodies touched.

My knees touched his thighs just above his knees. My breasts pressed against his chest, and I could feel him pressed against my belly. It excited and frightened me at the same time.

“Linc,” I fretted, looking at him.

“Don't be scared, Skye. I won't do anything you don't want me to,” he said and then resumed kissing me.

We laid in his bed and just kissed for what felt like half an hour. I kept my eyes open for most of it, staring back into his warm, brown ones. I trailed my fingertips over his cheeks, along his jaw, down his neck, and around his ears. I ran my fingers through his hair, and when he shifted a bit away from me, I touched the skin of his chest and the tiny patch of dark hair over his sternum.

Linc slid his hand up the back of my shirt. When he unhooked my bra, my heart beat faster, but I didn't panic or stop him. I was curious. I felt all sorts of odd things I had never experienced before, and I found that I wanted him to touch me about as badly as I wanted to touch other parts of him.

“Skye,” he kissed my chin and then down my throat. “I want to touch your breasts.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Let me take your shirt off. I want to see them.”

“Okay.” I shifted and lifted a bit so he could grab the hem.

My heart raced as he pulled the shirt up and over my head, and my pulse thudded in my neck when he pulled away my bra and tossed it off the side of the bed with my shirt. I was nervous, never having shown my breasts to anyone, and I instinctively, covered myself. Linc's hand, warm and less rough than Whit's, slid over my ribs, making me giggle before he eased the comforter and sheets away to expose me. I watched his eyes go wide as his hand came up to cup my left breast.

“Can I…?” He looked down at it, and I nodded, not really knowing what it was he wanted but wanting him to do something.

He flicked the end of his tongue over the tip of my nipple, and I made a very grown-up, sex sound that shamed me. When he did it again, I felt parts of me below but near my belly button heat and tense.

“So beautiful,” he whispered between my breasts before he moved over to the right one. In response, I shifted onto my back. He kissed down toward my bellybutton. I heard him inhale sharply and then his right hand moved to unzip my jeans.

“Linc, what are you doing?” I asked, nervously.

“I want to eat you out.” He shifted so that he could use both hands to work on my pants.

“I…I don't know.” I put my hand on top of his, and he stopped. “I'm scared and…I don't know if I'm ready for that or to, uh, reciprocate.”

He kissed the tops of my hands and looked up my body to me. “I don't expect you to reciprocate. Just because I want to give you head doesn't mean I expect it in return, but if you're scared, I'll stop.”

“I'm sorry, but please don't.”

“You don't have to be sorry.” He let go of my pants and kissed all the way back up to my lips. “I could kiss you for ages.”

After we shifted onto our sides, he covered us with the comforter. Then, we did kiss for what felt like ages. Linc rubbed his palm against my breast and then stroked my skin from the top of my jeans to my collarbone. Hesitantly, I reached for him with my free hand. I caressed his shoulder and chest. I let my fingers dance over the fuzz around his belly button.

“Skye,” he whispered when he broke the kiss. “You go much lower, and you're going to get a surprise.”

“I know it's there.” I smiled. “Am I making it too hard for you?”

He laughed and pressed his face against the side of my neck. “You're making it hard all right, but I can control myself.”

I put my hand over my face and said, “I'm so curious about it. I want to touch it, see it, but oh…I don't know.”

“Okay.”

“It seems like a big step,” I babbled on and then started when Linc jerked back the covers. “What are you doing?”

There wasn't really time for him to answer as he shimmied out of his boxers much faster than I would've imagined possible. I covered my eyes. “What do you think? Come on, Skye.” He tweaked my wrist. “Be brave.”

Slowly, I lowered my hand. There it was, and it looked ready. I snickered. “Penises are such funny things. Yours looks pretty big, though.”

“It is,” he said proudly. “Bigger than Whit's.”

I lifted a brow. “You've compared?”

“Guys compare all sorts of things, including their dicks. You want to touch it?”

I pinched my lips between my teeth. “Yes, but, uh…I'm not ready for that, yet.”

“Okay.” He shrugged. “Can I tell people we are dating, now?”

I snickered, again. “You'd have to take me out on a date, first.”

“If I did?”

“Then, yeah. You could. I don't think your dad approves, though.”

Linc smirked and waved a hand at his bedroom door. “He needs to take his silver spoon out of his butt, like most of the people I know.”

“Including you?”

“Yeah. Look. I'm gonna go,” he said as he made an impolite hand gesture, “in the shower.” He swiveled off the side of his bed and walked over to his dresser. From it, he took a pair of boxers. He paused, twisted a bit to look at me, and dropped his underwear. “That,” he held his hand out at me, “every day.”

“What?” I looked around the room.

“You, in my bed,” he said. I smiled and buried my face in the pillow. “You can grab a shower after me, unless…you want to join me.” By the tone of his voice, I knew he was smiling widely. I waved my hand at him and kept my face hidden. “Okay. I must say, this was far more than I expected for our first time making out.” I twisted my head so I could look at him. He slid his drawer shut and just stood there, unashamed. Why should he be? He had a lovely, athletic body that made that warm feeling come back just south of my belly button. “I didn't expect to get past first base, and here I got to second.” He came back over by the bed and looked down at me. “What about Whit?”

“What about him?” I couldn't help but look at him. I mean, it was
right there
. The more I looked at him, the more curious I became.

“Hey, Skye. My eyes are up here.” My face heated, and I looked up at him sheepishly. “That's about the most adorable thing I've ever seen.” He grinned at me, but then his brow furrowed. “Whit's my best friend, and he wanted to date you.”

“Yeah, well. He should have thought of that before he gave in and let Sicily… you know.” I sobered and eyed him. “I'm not into sharing. You understand that, right?”

“Yes.” He backed away and picked up his boxers. “You want exclusivity.”

“That's a weird way to put it,” I said as I watched his butt muscles flex, “but yes. I wouldn't want you doing things with other girls while you're dating me.”

“I can handle that.” He padded across the room to the door on the right.

“Are you sure?” I called after him with narrowed eyes.

He stopped and turned to look at me. “Yes, Skye. Geez.” He patted the doorframe with his hand and looked down for a moment. “I told you that I love you.”

I rolled my eyes and rolled onto my back. “I'm fifteen. You're seventeen,” I reminded him as I stared up at the smooth, dark gray of his ceiling. “You can't love me.”

He stomped over to me, and when I brought my attention from the ceiling to him, I saw he wore an angry scowl. “Stop blowing it off. Believe it or not, you
can
hurt my feelings.” He took my face in his hands. “I'm pretty sure that I love you. You're certainly the first girl I've ever asked to shower with me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes, well, showers don't mean you're in love.”

“No, but being terrified you were hurt and wanting to be with you all the time are pretty good indicators, though. Don't you think?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Maybe, nothing,” he snapped and then kissed me hard.

After that, he paced back over to the door and went through it. The light flicked on, and I heard water run. I sighed and pulled the covers up to my chin.

Linc loved me. I couldn't wrap my head around it. To have been so mean to me at school, he had been nice at Whit's party. He was so gentle and even sweet when we were alone. I wondered if it was something that would carry over when we were around his friends. I was afraid that it wouldn't.