Sweeter Than Sin (28 page)

“Had you been smoking when you went inside?”

As the temper crawled across Layla’s face, Jensen lifted a hand. “I just need to know, Layla. It helps me get the picture, helps me get an idea who tried to hurt you, who tried to set you up for this.”

Layla’s jaw dropped. “Me?” She pressed a hand to her chest.
“Me?”

“You were left there at the scene of the crime,” Jensen pointed out. She should feel bad about this, really. Nobody had tried to set Layla up, at all. Layla was just in the way when the killer was there and the killer wanted her
out
of the way.

But Jensen needed Layla to cooperate, and Layla only cooperated when Layla got something
out
of it. Suddenly that cooperation was all but flowing from the woman as she settled herself in front of Jensen.

Layla reached out, clinging to Jensen’s hand.

“You know I’d never hurt anybody,” Layla pleaded, shaking her head. “Not like that.”

“Of course.” Jensen gave Layla’s hand a squeeze.
See? We’re friends!
Then she pulled back and focused on her work, the tooth-pulling problem of getting a real statement from Layla Chalmers.

*   *   *

Setting me up—

Not likely.

Anger gnawed at Jensen Bell, but she kept it under control as she went through everything again with Layla. It was a damn good thing Jensen was such a goody two-shoes. So by the book. Plenty of the cops here would have just tried to pin it on Layla, but Jensen was smart. Jensen had seen what was going on and now Layla could think, could plan.

But she had to push the anger out and focus.

A headache throbbed and her skin crawled like a thousand ants lived just inside it. She needed a fix. The weed hadn’t helped. It had been too long since she’d had a decent high and she was dying for one. She’d had a few pills she’d been hoarding, taking just one a few times a day, to keep the edge off, but it wasn’t enough and she hadn’t been able to take one since that morning.

What she
really
needed was some coke, she thought. That would give her a good buzz, clear her thoughts, and she could think. Get through this, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Fuck it all.

She had to grit her teeth and get through it.

Under the table, she closed her hands into fists to keep from scratching at her arms as she continued to answer Jensen’s questions. Layla kept a confused, dazed look on her face even as she plotted out how to make this all better. She had to play it smart. Jensen was a goody two-shoes and she liked being the smart cop, but she
was
smart and if Layla laid it on too thick then the bitch would figure it out.

Damn Willie T. Damn his ass to hell and back. For being dead. For being a fucking pervert. For being a monster.

And Layla had let him stick his dick in her. She needed to scrub herself clean. She could never be clean, but she could be cleaner than she was now. But she had to stay here … answer these questions—

“And you don’t remember hearing anything?” Jensen asked.

Layla stared at her, scrunched up her face. “I was just pissed off, Jensen. I wanted to see Willie T.” Then Layla sighed and looked down, pretending to think.

As she did, the events of the past day rolled through her mind and then they stuttered, caught, as one face in particular settled in her mind.

Yeah, she was pissed at Willie T. He had some nerve, up and dying like that. Raping kids like he had.

But she never would have gone out there, never would have gotten involved, if it weren’t for Noah.

It was
his
fault she was trapped here, caught up in this mess.

She’d had a fucked-up day ever since she’d run into him, and he was the one who needed to pay.

That was her thinking and she figured it made sense.

He’d given her a day from hell and she was thinking she’d do the same for him.

“Come on, Layla,” Jensen nudged, prodding her and nudging her mind back on-track.

Gotta focus. Need to get out of here … what were we talking about … oh, the noises. Yeah.

“I don’t know. I might have heard something. Yeah, I was smoking when I walked in,” she said, sighing. She managed to paste a shamed expression on her face, dragged her eyes away like she couldn’t stand to meet Jensen’s eyes. “You’ve never done it, I know. You don’t know how it is, but maybe after my head clears … once I’m not so scared? I think maybe I heard a noise. But I don’t know.”

She shot Jensen a look, evaluated the expression on the cop’s face. Layla could usually read cops pretty well. But Jensen was harder to read. Hard to say.

Take it easy,
Layla thought to herself.
Take it slow.

If she did right, she might be able to find a way to get some payback.

“I think … maybe I did see somebody.”

*   *   *

As one of the officers escorted Layla out of the station, Jensen leaned back in her seat and met Thorpe’s eyes.

He looked at her, and although his eyes were clear, his suit looked a little rumpled. It made sense. It was going on one in the morning and they’d been at it since seven. They hadn’t expected to wrap up their day with another murder. They were going to have to call in the state to help with this at this point. Hell, Willie T.’s death wasn’t even
in
their jurisdiction, but it was definitely connected—the county boys had been nice enough to let them speak with Layla and Layla just hadn’t connected the dots between city cops and county sheriffs.

“You ever get the feeling you’re being played? Just like a fiddle?” Jensen asked.

Thorpe nodded solemnly. “All the time. I got three nieces and a nephew and they’ve turned me into their own string section.”

Jensen grinned at him and then looked back at the hallway, watching as Layla flirted with Officer Heaton. She should watch it. Heaton’s wife, Roni, would rip Layla’s hair out.

Once Layla was out of sight, Jensen turned and looked at Thorpe. “Well, between you and me, I have to say, Layla can outplay your nieces and nephew. We were just played, well and truly. That was some damn fine playing.”

“Not so fine.” Thorpe shook his head. “There ain’t no way it happened like she said.”

Jensen closed her eyes. “No. But we have to bring him in.” Her heart hurt, even thinking about it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The house was dark and quiet. Lana pressed her back against the door and closed her eyes, wished like crazy that somebody was inside the house with her. Wished she wasn’t alone so she didn’t have to deal with the noise in her head. Too much noise, too many thoughts.

If she had somebody with her, she wouldn’t have to think.

Somebody … no. Not
somebody.

Adam.

She wanted Adam.

She wanted to feel his arms around her and maybe lean against him. Feel him touch her the way he’d been touching her before Noah had walked in.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she breathed around the knot that just refused to go away. She’d gone to see Max, determined to get answers, because
answers
would make that rawness inside better. That was what she thought. But nothing was going to make that raw, bruised feeling go away.

And now it was even worse.

Now the confusion was spreading and she had more questions.

Max …

I
never
wanted you gone.

She shoved a fist against her temple, wishing she could drown out that voice, wished she could wipe away the memory of the past few hours. Even just turn back the clock to when she’d been standing here facing Noah. It had been a brutal, solid punch, but at least
then
she’d thought she understood things.

Instead of looking for clues where to find David—because the judge had been
so
forthcoming about that—she should have gone to Noah.

Explained things, told him she might have to disappear again … or, you know, maybe end up in jail …
please understand
.

Noah would have held her hand and offered to help her find a lawyer.

Fuck.
Actually, her dad would have done that. Noah would have just been a quiet, supporting presence at her back. She hadn’t wanted to hurt or disappoint either of those men.

She’d done both.

The floorboards creaked and she shoved away from the door, tensing automatically. As she turned to face the doorway, she let her backpack fall to the floor and then she caught sight of who it was. The tension drained out of her in a rush as she saw Adam, shrouded in half shadows. “I thought you had to work,” she said, her voice a soft whisper in the quiet stillness of the house.

He closed the distance between them and reached up, pushing his fingers into her hair. “I thought you might need a friend.”

“A friend.” She closed her eyes and turned her face into his palm. His thumb stroked over her lip while he pushed his fingers into her hair. “Is that what we are, Adam? Even now?”

He moved a little closer and the heat of his body reached out to tease hers. She could whimpered, it felt so good. “Do you not want to be friends?”

She dropped her head against his chest. “I no longer know what I want. I don’t even know what to think.” Her mind was still spinning with what Max had told her.

I trusted the wrong person.

“Things will be okay with Noah.” Adam curved his arm around her waist and brought her in close before skimming his hand up her back, resting it on the nape of her neck. “He’s confused and upset, but he’s a good guy, solid. He’ll understand once you’re able to talk to him.”

“I already did.”

Adam’s body tensed for a brief second. Oh, so subtly, but then it was gone. “Yeah?” He leaned back and peered down into her face, cocking an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I was down at the river. In the woods. That was always…”

“You always went there.” Adam brushed his thumb over her lips again. “I guess Noah still remembers that.”

“Yeah.” She reached up and touched her fingers to Adam’s lips. “Kind of funny. You do, too.”

He kissed her fingers and closed his hand around her wrist, his eyes dark and intense on her face. “I remember all kinds of things about you, Lana.”

Her heart banged hard against her ribs. That look. The way he watched her. She swallowed, closing her eyes as she tucked her head back against his chest, the cadence of his heart oddly soothing. The scent of him flooded her head and some of the coldness inside her eased back. She felt surrounded by him. Warmed by him. For the first time in forever, she didn’t feel alone.

She’d had friends over the years, but Adam had been one of the very, very few who had always gotten her. And nobody made her feel safe the way he did.

“What did you and Noah talk about?” he murmured, shattering that moment of internal reverie.

“Not much.” She rubbed her cheek absently against the faded cotton of the Harley T-shirt he wore, opening her eyes to stare off into nothing. “He just … I think if I tell him anything, he’ll understand.”

“He probably will. Noah’s good at that.” Adam pressed his lips to her temple and that soft brush had her pulse rate skittering in dangerous territory. She tried to ignore it. “You probably need to talk about it, darlin’.”

She squeezed her eyes closed. “I can’t tell anybody anything, because I don’t know anything.” Anger twisted in her, exploding through her like a volcanic eruption. She shoved away from him to pace the floor, the edgy tension inside her spiraling higher and higher.
I trusted the wrong person.
“I know even less now than I knew before, too.”

“Just what does that mean?”

She stopped and stared at him, and for some reason the glasses she wore—glasses she didn’t need—pissed her off. Tearing them off, she turned and hurled them down on the table. “He tells me he trusted a friend,” she snarled. “The wrong friend.”

*   *   *

Adam had suspected there was a lot of anger inside her.

He just hadn’t realized it was this close to the surface, ready to ignite.

Now, though …

As Lana started to pace, her face pale, tight with strain, he stayed against the island, forcing himself to relax, not to move any closer. It was hard. Hard not to reach out and touch her as she swung by him, her long legs scissoring as she paced back and forth.

He waited, and waited.

Finally, she stopped by the window, staring out over his garden, her hands curled over the edge of the counter. “Have you ever had anybody that you just really trusted? Somebody that you put your everything in and then it turns out that faith was misplaced?”

Adam dragged his thumb down his jaw, carefully thought through that question. It was a loaded one, and he could all but see her need to talk, to tell him everything burning inside her.

If he answered this the wrong way, he might never get the answers.

But worse … he was going to add to the hurt he could see inside her.

“Everybody places their trust wrong from time to time, darlin’,” he finally said. “I’m a paranoid bastard, though. I don’t give my trust to a lot of people and haven’t since I was a kid. I trusted my folks. I trusted you. I trust Noah. To some extent, I trust a few of the guys I’ve met through AA. But that’s probably about it.”

She was silent.

Shoving away from the counter, he moved over to stand behind her. Reaching up, he caught the end of her braid and tugged out the band that held it in place. Slowly, he started to loosen the tight cable. Once he’d done that, he pushed his hands into her hair and started to rub her scalp. “The red is starting to show,” he said softly.

“I know.” Her head fell forward.

Silence fell and for a moment they just stood there as he rubbed at her scalp. He worked his way down to her neck and she groaned as he went at the tight muscles there.

“I trusted him.… I left here because I trusted him, Adam. And the whole time, it was a lie.”

He had to fight not to let the tension he felt echo through him. “Why don’t you tell me now, Lana?” He let his hands fall away and moved in closer, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Tucking his chin against her shoulder, he murmured against her ear, “Whatever you have to say, it’s between us, nobody else.”