How to Kill Your Boss (14 page)

His clever fingers rubbed and invaded, his lips moistened my skin from ear to chin. His erection pushed between my butt cheeks, settling nice and tight.

“I’m the only man who’s been inside you. I get so fucking hard just thinking about it.” He pushed deeper. “Promise me, love. Tell me there will never be another.” His strong finger curled and white heat exploded inside me. My legs buckled and Franklin let me collapse to the floor, catching me in his lap, never retreating. I came with violent shudders around his thick, magical finger. My head fell against his shoulder, my body tensed and quivered in his arms. He held me tight, rocked with me as I writhed in wanton pleasure, fucking his hand.

When I relaxed into him, he didn’t relent. He cupped my sex, circling the sensitive nub with his thumb, teased a nipple between his fingers with the other hand. “Say it, love. I want you to say it. Your words, your promise. They mean everything.”

Completely out of my mind with orgasmic overload, I hadn’t a clue what he wanted me to say, let alone the wherewithal to slow my breathing enough to speak.

Releasing my nipple, he squeezed my jaw and forced my face to meet his. “No other man will have you, Tate. Say it.”

Holy shit.

His eyes burned, hands trembled. “Say it,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

“I only want you.” I forced my words through jagged breaths.

His thumb circled harder, possessive against me. “No other man. Promise me.”

Pillow talk, heat-of-the-moment, lust-fueled words? Nope. Franklin pulled some Mark Wahlberg in Fear, Julian Sands in Boxing Helena shit. Was I afraid? Yes—of disappointing him or scaring him away.

I grasped his wrist and pulled his hand from between my thighs. Then I turned and wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck. “No other man. Ever. Only you.”

Did I only say that to appease him?

No. I wanted him—all of him, in every way possible. I just couldn’t understand why he wanted me, plain old, soft-and-squishy me. But he did, and I would’ve done or said anything he asked. Not because I was powerless to resist his charms. Nor was I a mindless bimbo trying to up her social status by association with a should-be super model. It was because, in Franklin, I sensed not only a kindred spirit, but a haunting desire for unconditional trust and commitment. Those were key ingredients in any successful relationship.

I had them to give in spades.

* * * *

We’d slept in because we’d kept each other awake most of the night. He’d discovered my birth control pills in the bathroom and came out wearing a shit-eating grin. He confessed that he’d always worn a condom with his ex. Since I’d never been with another man, and he’d been safe, we ditched the Magnums. After that, it was no holds barred.

After I’d dipped my toe in the pool of sexual bliss, I felt the need to cannonball into the deepest end, float the bottom and only come up for air when absolutely necessary.

We rushed to get ready for work. I threw my cell into my purse, grabbed my keys, and almost forgot to lock the door as we scurried out. Franklin, however, did not. Shooting a scornful glare, he pulled his own set of keys from his suit jacket and took care of business.

We rode the elevator to the parking garage and he escorted me, hand in hand, to my car and held the door while I situated myself.

“See you there, Killer.” He kneaded my breast, kissed me hard, and waited for me to fasten my safety belt. We’d agreed at some point during the night’s festivities that, considering office gossip, it’d be better to take separate cars to work.

I watched him leave through the pedestrian door, shoulders back, head held high, rockin’ the hell out of his Armani suit. How could he afford Armani anything? On the salary Wallace paid his lower level employees, Suits-R-Us would better fit his budget. The sight of him, especially the backside, had my thoughts traversing a torrid path. I was tempted to forget about work and drag the man back upstairs.

A pang of fear ripped through my chest when he strutted out of sight, like it was the last gander I’d ever get of his magnificent form. I shifted the car into drive and tapped the wheel, struggling for breath and impatiently waiting for the heavy grille door to inch its way up, up, up. I tore through before it completely opened. My pulse stopped racing only after I spied Franklin leaning against his car with his cell raised to his ear. He flashed his pearly whites my direction. Air returned to my lungs.

Whew. What the hell was that mini panic attack about? Lack of sleep. Yes. Must be overtired. I waved to him and headed toward a fresh new Monday with hopes it’d be better than the last.

I checked my rearview, Franklin-style, certain Mr. Sexy Pants was hot on my tail. Disappointment misted through me when there was no sign of him. A few blocks later, I checked again. No Franklin, but there was a man on a motorcycle two cars behind—and by golly, he straddled a black Harley.

Gut clench? Yup.

Rapid heartbeat? Um, yeah. Jackrabbit speed.

I swerved into the right lane to make my exit, cutting off a not-so-friendly Audi. I ignored the middle finger waving objections and focused on the motorcycle’s actions. Staying two cars behind, he slipped into my lane.

Shit.

A storm brewed in my belly. Steam rolled between my ears. I waited for the light that seemed perpetually red. Where was Franklin? Mr. Overprotective-and-Overbearing suddenly decided to leave me on my own? My usual route would’ve taken me left. To test my I’m-being-followed theory, I turned right. So did the motorcycle.

Another right. He swerved between my car and a parcel delivery truck to land behind me. I took a sharp left, pissing off more than a few drivers and a couple pedestrians.

Motorcycle man followed, this time riding my ass. I could’ve slammed on the brakes and ended things right quick. I could’ve driven to the police station only a few blocks away. I decided it best to get to work, where Franklin should be waiting. At least, I hoped like hell he was.

To my surprise and relief, half the SPD surrounded our building, accompanied by two fire trucks, a news crew, and a fleet of unmarked matching black Buicks. I parked behind Franklin’s SUV in the middle of the street.

Motorcycle man, apparently displeased by the scene, turned his bike around with minimal squealing of tires. He disappeared before I could get a look at his license number.

My heart skipped a beat when Franklin strode toward me, but it sunk to my gut when Detective Waters appeared from behind an ambulance and interrupted his trek. They exchanged words. Franklin’s wrinkles set hard, and Leland’s shoulders raised at least an inch. I stayed right where I was, snug as a bug in my safe little car.

Detective Waters typed something on his cell, shook Franklin’s hand, and walked away after nodding my direction.

For crying out loud, what now?

Franklin climbed into my passenger seat.

“What’s going on?” I was almost afraid to ask.

Face grim, eyes dark, he muttered, “Wallace is dead.”

“What?” I heard the words. They didn’t make sense.

“Murdered,” he mumbled, eyes glazed, jaw tight.

I shook my head. “No!”

He leaned over the console and pulled me into the safety of his arms.

“What do you mean, murdered? I don’t understand.” I tried to wiggle free. Franklin held me tight as if he needed the comfort more than I did.

“Someone threw him off the roof. The detective wouldn’t tell me more than that.”

I’d known the dick-wad my whole life. He was like the creepy uncle that nobody wanted around, yet could never get rid of. But he’d always been there. I couldn’t accept he was dead. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know, baby.”

I looked up to see Nan coming out the front entrance tucked under the arm of a robust but gentle-looking officer. Face red and wet with tears, she looked my direction before he helped her into the back of his car.

No. This was not happening. No way did someone murder Wallace. I was the only one allowed to do that. Before Franklin could stop me, I jumped from the car and jogged toward the building. I needed to see for myself.

Bad idea? Hell yes.

I hadn’t considered Wallace’s body would still be on the cold pavement like a rag-doll that’d been tossed on the ground, limbs impossibly twisted, face unrecognizable. Uncovered, on display for the world to see.

Funny, the blood didn’t bother me so much. Maybe because I’d seen it so many times in my dreams. What did bother me? This wasn’t a dream I could wake from and shake off with a giggle. This reality wasn’t amusing in any way.

A solid voice over my shoulder made me jump. “I’m sorry, ma’am, you’ll need to return to your vehicle.”

A hand splayed against my lower back. “Are you crazy? What the hell were you thinking?” Franklin’s rebuke sliced through the fog invading my brain. He wrapped an arm around my waist and nudged me back toward the car. “We need to go. Detective Waters asked us to meet him at the police station to answer some questions.”

I started to turn, but a glimpse of something green caught my eye near Wallace’s foot, the one that wasn’t twisted the wrong way. “Wait.” I pushed Franklin’s arm off to get a better look. “No. It can’t be.”

He leaned over my shoulder. “Fuck.”

A shriveled, long stemmed, red rose lay on the ground next to Wallace, untouched by the blood.

* * * *

“Thank you for coming in. We’ll be talking to each employee. I wanted to get you in and out of here as quick as possible, considering—”

“The dead bodies following me around like flies,” I interrupted, unable to hold back a nervous smirk.

Leland slammed his pen on the table, rubbed his eyes, then crossed his arms. Apparently he wasn’t amused by my inability to keep my mouth shut when appropriate. I wasn’t trying to be funny. Two dead men and one brutal attack in two weeks? If it wasn’t a cruel joke, what the hell was going on? Were there hidden cameras and a jolly host hiding behind the desk, waiting to jump out and tell me I’d been duped? The shit I’d witnessed didn’t happen in the real world. Certainly not my sheltered corner of it.

“Miss Wood.”

“Tatum,” I reminded him. I leaned back in my chair and mimicked his posture.

“How well did you know Mr. Cruse?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve known him my whole life. He was friends with my father. He was always around.”

“I see.” He scribbled something on his yellow notepad. Chicken scratch from my perspective. “You don’t seem upset.” Leland held his pen in the writing position but lifted his eyes to mine, weariness evident by the dark half-moon shapes underneath.

“I should be, shouldn’t I? Maybe I’m in shock or something.”

“People who are in shock don’t know they’re in shock, and you don’t have any symptoms,” he grunted.

There went that theory. Maybe I’d seen too many corpses to be bothered by the sight of them anymore. “I won’t lie. I didn’t like him much. Nobody did. Any idea what happened?”

“We’re putting the pieces together and I’m asking the questions, remember?”

“I just…my father started the company. He got bored and sold it to Wallace. I don’t need the job, don’t like it much, either. I’ve stayed on because I feel close to my dad in that building.”

“I understand.” The detective pursed his lips. “Where were you last night and this morning?”

“At home.” I swallowed hard. “With Franklin.”

“I see.” His face lit up and a hefty dose of
I told you so
flashed in his eyes.

I needed to change the subject, and fast. “What about the rose?”

“What rose?”

“The one laying on the ground next to the body.”

“You saw the body?” He slammed his pen down again.

Oops. That damn mouth of mine. Did I get somebody in trouble? “It wasn’t anybody’s fault. I needed to see for myself that he was dead. They tried to stop me.” I proceeded to tell Leland about the roses and my stalker, leaving no detail out.

“Miss Wood, why didn’t you let me know this has been going on?”

“I was going to. Things have just been crazy.”

He massaged his right temple.”Yeah. Crazy is right.”

“Any news on Jacob Smart?” I asked, more curious about his connection with my father than anything.

Leland shot a nervous glance to the door, then the camera mounted in the corner of the room. “No, and we can’t discuss that here,” he whispered.

“What’s going to happen to Cruse Investigations? What about our clients? When can we get back to work?”

“You’ll be contacted when the place has been cleared. Shouldn’t be long. And Miss Wood, as much as I like you, I’d enjoy not having to see your face again for a while. Try to steer clear of trouble, will ya?” He half smiled and shook my hand.

I stepped into the hallway. Franklin leaned against the wall opposite me, hands tucked in his pockets, tie loose, legs crossed at the ankle. My cheeks heated. If public sex were legal, I would’ve jumped him right there. No joke.

“How you holding up?” He stood straight and grabbed my hand.

“Better than I should be, I suppose.” At least according to the good detective.

The door behind me opened with a jerk and I wheeled around, bumping against Franklin’s shoulder. “Reed,” Leland shouted. “Need a minute.” He paused and looked at me. “A private word.”

Franklin squeezed my hand. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” With a kiss to my head, he left me standing alone.

I leaned against the wall and watched people go about their business. Several uniformed men passed and nodded. A round, perky woman bounced past carrying two boxes of Krispy Kremes. My stomach grumbled. The aroma of java wafted my way.

I was about to go in search of the coffee but Franklin tore through the door with a red face and a scowl that made my hackles rise. He grabbed my elbow and tugged me toward the elevator.

“What?” I shrieked, struggling to balance while keeping pace with his strides. “Ouch. Let go.”

His grip tightened.

I tried to yank my arm free, which apparently pissed him off. He slammed me so hard against his chest, my teeth rattled. What in the world happened in the two minutes he was with Detective Waters?