Sweeter Than Sin (36 page)

Adam said nothing.

“Well, I’ve been gone awhile.” Lana stared hard at Layla. “But I’m willing to bet she isn’t here to bring the boys donuts.”

Layla curled her lip. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m hurt you don’t remember me.” Lana took a step forward. “You’d think you would. I’m the girl who broke your nose in tenth grade.”

A choking gasp escaped her. “Lana.”

The harsh intake of breath was echoed by the slim, elegant blonde standing by the desk. Lana shifted her attention to the blonde. Noah’s soon-to-be-bride. Swiping her damp hands down her jeans, Lana arched her head. “I hear you and I share something in common. Trinity, right?”

“You…” Trinity squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m kind of confused. I’d heard you were…”

“Dead?” Lana smiled caustically. “Yeah. Dead, missing or a killer. Those are the rumors. What’s the saying? ‘Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.’ Twain, I think. I’m not dead.”

“If you’re not dead, then you never should have come back,” Layla snapped, color coming into her face, her eyes bright and hot. “The cops are going to lock you up. Gone, all these years. If you didn’t kill David and his folks, you’re the only one who has answers and you ran to keep them quiet. And you always thought you were the smart one.”

Lana turned her head and looked up at the tall man standing silent at her side. She arched a brow.

“Layla always heard all sorts of shit.” He shrugged. “But she never really did listen to anything.”

He shifted his attention back to her. “I never left Madison, Layla. I’ve been here all along.”

“You … what?”

It was so quiet, a pin drop would have echoed like a shotgun blast.

In the doorway across the room, Jensen whispered, “Son of a bitch.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Layla crumpled.

Sorenson put her in one of the smaller rooms, sat across from her and pinned her with a hard look.

Then he put a recorder in front of her. “I’m recording this. If anything you say conflicts with what you told Detective Bell, you are going to want to think long and hard about getting yourself a lawyer. We are looking at obstruction of justice here, at the very least, Ms. Chalmers, and I don’t have the time or the patience for this shit. So think hard before you continue with this.” He paused. “You and I both know you aren’t being honest here. So think on that before you waste my time and try to tarnish the name of an innocent man. But if you insist, you better make sure you can keep your story straight. If you fuck up, even once, you’ll be charged. Or you can just let this all go.”

She stared at him.

And one thing he knew about Layla was that she was a decent judge of character. She could read a mark. Most people like her could. It was how she knew who to sucker and who to walk away from. It was why she’d never tried to pull her shit on certain people in town and why she’d managed to get by rent free on others. He’d heard rumors that she’d once lived in Trick Thomas’ garage apartment rent free for a year. Of course, the way Trick had told it, she’d paid him in other ways.… Trick liked to think he’d gotten the better end of the deal.

But Sorenson wasn’t a man to be led around by his dick.

And those big lavender eyes of hers didn’t mean jack to him.

Reaching out, he tapped the button and waited.

“Fine,” she bit off.

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

A few minutes later, he let her out. She crossed her arms over her chest and stormed off, tottering on toothpick heels for a second as she spun around to glare at him from the door. “You find out who killed Willie T., let me know. I’ll buy that fucker a beer.”

He arched a brow, but she didn’t say anything else. She disappeared through the doors and he blew out a breath before turning to look at Sally. “Is Detective Bell still with Noah?”

Sally looked at him, nodded sorrowfully.

“Call her out.”

They no longer had a witness against him.

Noah could go home.

Which was nice. The man had a wedding.

And Sorenson had a woman who’d been missing for twenty years. Who knew where she had been?

Sorenson turned and looked at the two men and the woman in the sitting area.

No, what he really had was a fucking mess.

The man at her side—Caine … Caine Yoder. Really David Sutter. Here in Madison all these years.

“You two have any idea how much more trouble you’ve just thrown onto my desk?”

The woman was the one who answered. She shrugged and said, “Well, I guess I could have stayed away. But since I know who was buried in the Frampton house, I’d actually have thought coming home would make it
easier
on you. Not harder.”

Sorenson felt every muscle inside him start to quiver. “You … you know who it is.”

She brushed her hair back from her face and looked up at Caine—
David,
Sorenson told himself.
It’s David
. That would have to be verified, he knew. But looking at the man, Sorenson suspected it was the truth. He didn’t think he was being lied to.

David reached out and rested a hand on Lana’s shoulder. “I know who it is, too, Chief,” he said. “I just didn’t see any point in speaking up.”

“You didn’t see the point,” Sorenson said slowly.

“No.” David’s eyes were cold as ice. “You see, it’s my mother. And for all I care, she could have rotted down in that hole for all of eternity. It’s more than she deserved anyway.”

*   *   *

David slid into the ICU.

He knew the rules.

And if the medical personnel started to argue the rules, he’d just turn around and walk away.

But he needed to see the old man.

David didn’t make it to Max’s bed.

Charity Whitlow intercepted him and he stopped, stared at her. “Caine?”

He just waited.

“You … I guess you want to see Max.”

“I need five minutes.”

“You’re not family,” she said gently.

“I need five minutes and I won’t leave until I have them or you call the police,” he said. “What’s going to be more disruptive?”

A militant look came across her face. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“You call Security right now. I’ll leave the minute they show up,” he promised.

He’d already spent half the day talking to the cops. If he had to do it all over again, so be it.

He edged around her and placed himself at Max’s side.

The old man looked fragile under the sheet, with tubes and wires running all over the place.

David was a basic sort of man. He’d never had the option to go to college, and he’d finished his high school education with more alternative methods. The only reason he’d finished at all was because it had mattered to Lana. He’d thought, all these years, that she had run away, that she could be anywhere, dead even, because she’d tried to help him, and that he’d ruined her life.

He was still trying to process just what had happened, and the man who might hold those answers lay in front of him, his life perched on a precarious edge.

Reaching down, David covered Max’s hand with his.

“She’s home, old man. I know you already know. You know everything, sometimes even before it happens, it seems. But she came home.” Then, even though it was an ugly wrench in his gut to do it, David bent down and murmured, “You probably already know, in your heart, what’s happened. If you’re too tired to keep this up, most of us are going to understand. You’re a tough old bastard, but you shouldn’t have to hold on just because people here want you to.”

He straightened and turned to go.

He’d moved a few steps before he stopped and turned back.

“I know. And I understand why … all of it.”

Fully aware of Charity’s confused stare, he left the ICU.

He needed to get back to his place and just lock himself away from the world.

While he could.

*   *   *

But a piece of the world followed him back.

Sybil Chalmers was sitting on his porch.

She wore one of those sexy little skin-skimming numbers that drove him crazy, and her hair fell down her back in a waterfall of black.

Her lips were red as sin and her eyes were soft on his, full of sympathy. “I heard about Max. I’m sorry.”

Caine brushed past her, or tried to. She just followed him inside. “I never did much like that grouchy old bastard. Why are you out here apologizing to me?”

She slid her arms around his back and he went rigid.

“You can fool just about everybody else. But you can’t fool me.” Sybil was a tall woman, and with the heels she’d put on she was tall enough to press a kiss to his nape. The soft touch snapped his control and he spun around, grabbed her around the waist.

“I don’t want to fool you,” he growled against her mouth. “I want to fuck you.”

He yanked the hem of her skirt, working the tight cloth up, found her naked underneath. Crowding her up against the door, he boosted her up and reached down, freed himself.

Here, with her, like this, he almost felt whole. The rage, the need to outrun himself, sometimes, when he was with her, it disappeared.

Right now the rage was still there, and he caught her thighs, spread her wide, shoved inside. She caught her breath, her mouth falling open. “Don’t scream,” he said, his voice level, steady. He might have been ready to explode inside, but none of it showed on the surface.

Her lashes fluttered and a broken moan escaped her lips.

He let go of one leg and covered her mouth. She bit his hand and he felt her clench down around him. “You can’t scream,” he warned again. Abraham’s house was down the hill and those were explanations Caine wouldn’t make. He would never be the son Abraham might wish, but he wouldn’t disrespect the man that way, either.

She bit him instead, the muscles of her pussy clutching and gripping at him like a fist each time he thrust inside her, and he could feel the climax already rushing in on them both. Sliding his hand around, he stroked her between the cheeks of her ass, teased the dark pucker there and pressed his mouth to her ear. “Next time you come to me wearing this dress, bring me something so I can turn you to the door and fuck you here. I want to fuck you and know you’re screaming on the inside, ready to fly apart as I take you there.”

She shuddered and he pushed the tip of his finger inside. Some of the darkness in him edged back.

It was like when he spilled this part of himself into her, he claimed a piece of his broken soul back.

But he could never claim enough of those pieces.

His soul had been shattered too many years ago.

Snarling, he shifted, moving them from the door to the simple broken-down armchair a few feet away. It was the only one not near a window and it creaked when weight was placed on it, but the bed was too far away.

There was a wet, sucking sound as he pulled out, and Sybil whimpered under her breath, then gasped as he turned her around, bent her over. He pushed inside, using one hand on her hip to steady her, eying the round, white curve of her ass, the black dress that still covered her from the waist up. Tangling his other hand in her hair, he used his hold on her to tug her up. Her spine bowed, arching up. He twisted her head around, taking her mouth and tangling tongues with her as he shafted her, sinking his dick deep, deep, deep inside her pussy.

Slow, deep, easy, letting this time with her wash away some of the hell.

She climaxed once, a second time.

But he couldn’t.

It was almost a snarl, trapped inside him, unable to break free.

And then … she braced her weight on a hand, slid the other down. Catching his balls between her hand, she squeezed, tight, taking him just over the edge of pain.

Dark, brilliant pleasure, edged with pain, washed through him.

And he fell.

David had to hurt before he found his release.

Sybil was the only woman who’d ever understood that.

And sooner or later she just might understand why.

It was probably better to end it, he thought, sometime later, before that happened.

He didn’t want to see the disgust or, worse, the pity in her eyes when she realized what a complete, and fucked-up, mess he was.

*   *   *

There probably wasn’t anybody who understood that man’s moods like she did.

When he pulled away from her, she was prepared for him to say or do something stupid.

She could see it in the set of his shoulders, the flat line of his mouth.

Still wet from him, she told herself she wasn’t going to let it hurt. Whatever
he
said, it would be because
he
was hurting.

It didn’t matter what he said about Max. She knew Caine loved the old goat. She could see it, and more, she could feel it, in the pit of her belly. He was already pulling away, getting ready to shut down.

Nobody shut down the way he did.

But to her surprise, he didn’t say anything stupid.

He didn’t do anything stupid.

He came to her and turned her around. He caught the zipper of her dress and tugged it down. As it came free, he undid her bra, brushed both the wiggle dress and her bra straps down her arms until she could step out of them. She was still wearing a pair of heels, the ankle straps holding them on.

He caught her in his arms and swept her up, surprising a laugh out of her. The wide ridge of his chest bulged with muscle and she made an appreciative sound under her breath as she stroked her hand across his shoulders. “I figured you’d want me to leave before anybody noticed my car,” she said, keeping her voice down.

“It won’t be an issue much longer,” he said obliquely.

And then he carried her off to his room.

He still didn’t let her scream. And it was that much more amazing, catching all those sounds, biting her lip, his shoulder,
him,
just to keep from making noise as he took her to the edge and back, time and again.

*   *   *

Adam found her in the middle of his kitchen.

Arms wrapped around herself, her gaze on the floor, Lana looked lost and confused.

He came up behind her and caught her in an embrace, pressing his lips to her neck. “Why the lost face?”