Sweet Arrest (7 page)

"Oh!'

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A'isha woke with a satisfied smile on her face and a sore cootchie. She winced tossing her feet over the side of Connor's bed. He hadn't lied or exaggerated. The man had parted her thighs on up until four in the morning. And she had kept reaching peak after amazing peak. How he could sustain a hard-on so long was beyond her. But like he had admitted, it had been a long time for both of them.

Shouting voices caught her attention. She shuffled over to the closed door and pressed an ear to it. Connor argued with a woman.
Oh no!
The woman he had gone out with the night before was there. If she saw A'isha, she might tell his boss, and he would be fired. She turned the doorknob and inched the door open a crack to pick up what they were saying.

"I thought we were out on a date, Connor,” the officer yelled. “But you go haring off after that woman in the club and never came back. You couldn't have told me something, or answered your phone?"

A'isha didn't remember hearing the phone ring. He must have turned off the ringer. Good thing she didn't just show up at his place.

"Look, Jen, I'm sorry. I did try to settle things with Ms. Greene and her friend. Last time I checked, that was my job. He attacked her in the parking lot.” He hesitated. “After that, I had some things to take care of. I should have called. I apologize."

They both grew silent. A'isha strained to hear more, but caught nothing. She hoped he wasn't out there kissing the woman!

"Whose jacket is this?” She paused. “Smells like honeysuckle."

There was a rustle of fabric. “I will not be questioned in my own home, Jen. I think you need to go. We went out a few times. Nothing serious. I realize now that wasn't the best idea."

"You're not serious?"

"Please leave.” His voice was so cold, A'isha shivered where she was. She hoped there would never come a time when he would dismiss her with the same lack of emotion. The door opened and slammed shut. A'isha sagged against the wall. A moment later, Connor stepped into the room. “Hey, baby."

All she wanted to do was to jump in his arms and kiss him. Instead, she walked over to the bed to gather her clothes. “Hi. I think it's time for me to leave, Connor.” She turned to face him. “Last night was ... incredible. But I'm not going to risk your job. If you could spot me a few dollars for a taxi, I can go home. I'll get you the money back after I reopen the shop."

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I enjoyed last night too. Sex that good isn't something I'm willing to give up quickly. No, you will not catch a taxi. I have to go into the office, and I'll drop you off on the way."

"Connor..."

"Not a discussion, A'isha."

She grumbled. “There you go again, thinking you're in charge of my life. The only reason why I'll go with you is I can't force you to give me the money, but as soon as my shop is re-opened, we're not seeing each other again.” She scooped up her clothes and headed into the bathroom. When the door clicked shut, she locked it.

Bitter disappointment hit hard. Not in a million years would she find a man like Connor again, generally a good person, strong, brave, sexy. And best of all, he wanted her! She would never forgive herself if she let her physical urges cause a man that good to lose his job. They would each be better off if she walked away. Knowing his soft spot for her, might make him more apt to look hard for the real killer than someone else on the case. No, she had made the right decision. Now, if he kept his hands to himself, everything would be fine.

By one in the afternoon, the cleaning crew had come to the bakery, done their work and had gone, and by four-thirty, A'isha had gained some semblance of control over the madness on the first floor of her house. The police report of the break-in didn't look promising, but Connor had promised he would treat the incident as being related. That should get a little fire going to capture whoever had done it.

While she scrubbed the kitchen floor—the fingerprint powder Connor's men used on the back door was everywhere—someone rang the doorbell at the front. She set down the mop, hoping it wasn't John. Normally, she would see him hanging around the neighborhood like he didn't have a job to go to, but today she hadn't seen him at all. Her guess was the man was still smarting over Connor's threat to arrest him.

She tiptoed to the door, making as little noise as possible, because for some reason, a person could hear everything going on inside from the front porch. Paper thin door, windows or wall, she guessed. Maybe all three.

Glimpsing a man who looked like a messenger through a slit in the shade, she unlocked the door, having to remove the chain at the same time. Feeling safe in her home was a thing of the past.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Greene? Ms. A'isha Greene?” he asked. When she affirmed it, he held out a thick envelope and a clipboard. “Sign here, please."

She hesitated, but he offered a kind smile that had her reaching to do his bidding. Strolling back to the kitchen while opening the envelope, she had a sudden drop in her stomach. Something didn't feel right. Not looking inside the envelope, she tossed it on the kitchen table and stared at it.

"Too thin for a bomb, right?” she asked no one. “Nobody would kill me. I have no enemies.” Then again, before the murder, she would have said the same about Cammie. What they didn't know, Connor had said to her, was whether this was pre-meditated or Cammie stumbling in on a burglar.

Anyone thinking Purely Sweets had money they could steal weren't from around these parts, that's for sure
. “Just do it. Open the envelope. It could be something good."

She plucked the manila envelope up from the table and dumped its contents out on the table. Photographs. High quality photos with a really good camera, one she thought that might have a lens which didn't require a flash at night, but used infrared.

"Pictures of me and Connor having sex."

Sliding down to the floor, tears obstructing her view, she heard the phone ring but didn't answer. Whoever it was could not remove the horror of knowing someone had been watching her with Connor, just last night for goodness sake. That meant they had been following her around, waiting for her to slip up, waiting for a chance to hang something over her head.

The phone blared to life for the second time. When she didn't pick up, it stopped and her cell phone buzzed. Her rear growing damp from the still wet floor, she scooted to the corner between the baker's rack and the wall. The calls continued for a half hour before she began to hear a siren blaring in the distance. Soon tires screeched in the street outside, and someone banged on the door.

"A'isha, open the door!"

Connor stood outside, probably causing a scene with his siren and lights, yelling like a madman, or a cop come to haul her away. She hurried along the hall and struggled with the locks and chain. When she finally got the door opened, he burst through, slammed it shut and drug her into his arms.

He kissed her lips, her hair and her neck, mumbling, “Are you okay? I called over and over.” She stared up at him. Coming to his senses, he let her go and frowned. “Why didn't you answer?"

"I got mail."

"The pictures? Where?"

When she told him, he marched into the kitchen and picked up the photos to flip through them. His scowl darkened as he sifted. Hugging herself, she said, “Shouldn't you be handling them with your fingers on the edges in case of fingerprints?"

"You think I'm going to report these?” he snapped. “Hell no!"

She flinched. “I'm sorry, Connor. I've ruined your life.

He held up a hand. “A'isha, don't. Just ... don't. I've got to figure out what to do about this. I got the same exact photos, and there's no way anyone can mistake it's you and me.” He jerked his fingers through his hair. “Mine came with a note."

"A note?” She touched his arm, terrified of asking but needing to know. “What did it say?"

"It said to drop the investigation on you, otherwise, the chief will get these."

She perked up. “Well that's kind of a good thing, isn't it? It proves I'm not the one. Your boss may not like that we were lovers, but this shows I'm not the one. You're not obstructing the investigation."

In disgust, he flung the pictures on the table. “A'isha, don't you get it? The note said to drop the investigation on you—
you!
—not on Cammie's murder or even on the shop. This only makes you look like an incompetent murderess trying to get the heat off yourself."

Her jaw went slack. The room spun and tilted while black dots zigzagged before her eyes. “No.” She shook her head. “No, can't be. What did I do to deserve this?” she screamed. “Damn it, I'm not some bad person who went around screwing people over, so karma's back with a vengeance! Why is this happening? Why can't I make my life work? What's wrong with me?"

She ran about the house, ripping open drawers and searching the contents for who knew what. Dumping over trashcans that had just been filled with trash, she muttered and cried all the way. When she was lifting a vase her grandmother had given her mother years ago to smash it to the floor, Connor's arms came around her, and he removed the heirloom from her trembling fingers.

"Okay. It's going to be okay, A'isha,” he soothed. “We'll work through this together."

"No, it's not going to be okay!” She pulled away from him although she was calmer now. “You don't know what this is like. Everything is so hard. I'm not superstitious in the least, but I feel like I'm cursed."

"I know it—” His cell rang, interrupting what he had been about to say. A'isha spun to the trashcan she had overturned and began clearing it up. At Connor's exclamation, she turned her attention to him, fearing the worse.

"What is it?” she whispered.

He sighed. “Carl just learned that Cammie had recently put a deposit on a storefront shop a few doors away from yours. He questioned the landlord who admitted that Cammie mentioned starting her own coffee shop slash bakery."

"Th-That must be why she resented me, why she hated working for me. I bet she thought she could do so much better, and hated having to answer to an inept shop owner like me. And it ... It gives me a motive."

A'isha's eyes glazed over. Connor pulled her to her feet and directed her toward the front door. On the way, he snatched up her jacket and purse. Had she not been so devastated, she would have found it comical of him with his triceps bulging and a purse slung over his arm.

"Where are we going?” she muttered.

"Out! Away from this place and this situation for a while.” He tightened his hold at her waist. “You need it, and frankly, so do I."

A'isha didn't get the chance to protest further, that she was not dressed properly to go anywhere or to check her hair. Connor had her tucked in the car, and was speeding along the highway.

"Where are we going?” she asked again, her arms folded across her chest.

He stroked her cheek, but she pulled away. He grunted. “A park I know of, outside the city, where I sometimes run when I want a change in scenery. A'isha, I—"

"You what?"

"I thought we had something, but you're pushing me away. I know you're afraid, but I'm here for you. I have the resources, the training..."

"Everything you'll lose if you keep seeing me, Connor."

"So I should fuck you, and walk away, leaving you to fend for yourself. Is that it?” He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers and holding tight when she would have resisted. “We'll be careful. I don't want to risk my job anymore than you want me to. Believe me, I love it. I'm cut out for it. But I've also had it with women who just don't work with me. I'm not making a declaration of love here."

"Thanks. I knew it wasn't any more than good sex,” she grumbled. “I didn't need the reminder."

"Damn, you're infuriating!"

She laughed. The tension broke without warning. “So are you, but I bet you've heard that a lot. Look, I already know I don't have much to lose. I didn't have much in the first place. But you have a lot more going for you. I don't want to screw it up.” She held up a hand. “Before you say anything, I'm not coming down on myself. Sorry about that whole episode where I lost my mind. I think I actually did for a second there."

He kissed her hand. “You shouldn't apologize for that. This is a lot to deal with for anyone."

"Yeah, well anyway, I think it's not smart to see each other right now. And I do believe"—she glared at him—"you're still thinking with your small head. You want me, and you're not willing to give me up. Plus you're a man. Guys take more risks."

"Did you just stereotype me?"

"What if I did?” She smirked.

"That's almost a smile."

"I think you have dead bodies in your closet."

"What?” He laughed, taking an exit off the highway and slowing for the light ahead. “Where did that come from?"

"You're too good to be true, so there has to be some deep-seated flaw in you. Not that I'm looking for it."

"Uh-huh."

He parked. A'isha followed him out of the parking lot to a nearby trail. Like they had been doing it for years, they clasped hands and walked along side by side. A'isha peered up at him, and he kissed her.

"I just figured it out!” she declared. At his blank expression, she went on, ticking off his flaws on her fingers. “You're stubborn and bossy. You don't take no for an answer. You don't respect a woman's decision to be old and lonely."

"Okay, okay.” He laughed. “Got it."

"If you're forcing me to date you, or be your lover—whichever—then I'm going to have to know more about you. Ever been married? Any kids? Siblings?"

This time he ticked off the facts. “No, I've never been married. No kids, and I have a sister, but she doesn't speak to me much."

"Why not?"

"Long story.” His handsome face reddened. “I told her, her second husband was gay."

A'isha stopped walking and burst out laughing. “Oh goodness, you did not tell her that."

He nodded, shame written all over his face. A'isha felt sorry for him. She nuzzled in close and rested her head on his chest, stroking his back. “I guess you're not perfect after all. I can breathe a sigh of relief. Do you hate gays then?"