What He Craves (4 page)

“Just a little cream and a lot of sugar,”
I said. “The more sugar the better.”

“Just like me.”
 
He winked and then disappeared back through the door to get
more coffee.

Noah finally glanced at me, and I thought
I saw anger flash on his face for a moment.
 
But then he went blank again, his gaze returning to his
phone.

“Here you go,” Detective Rake said,
returning with a paper cup full of coffee.

“Thanks.” I took a big sip, trying not to
gag.
 
I didn’t know much about
coffee, but even I could tell this was a watered down version of the real
thing, and it was so sweet I could practically feel my teeth rotting.
 
“Perfect,” I said.

“Can we get going?” Noah asked, shoving
his phone back into his coat pocket.
 
“I have somewhere to be.”

“Of course, Mr. Cutler,” Detective Rake
said.
 
He sat down behind the desk
and pulled out a legal pad and a ballpoint pen.
 
“You are aware that this interview is being taped, both by
video and audio, and that any statements you make here may be used against you
in a court of law?”

“Yes,” Noah said, sounding unconcerned.

“Thank you, Mr. Cutler.”
 
Detective Rake pushed a photo across
the table toward Noah.
 
It was an
exact copy of the one that was in my folder, the headshot of the smiling girl.
 
“Do you know this woman?”

“Yes.”

“And what is her name, for the record?”

“Dani DeClair.”

“And how did you know the victim?”

“We were friends,” Noah said.
 

“Friends?” Detective Rake pressed.

“Yes.”

I realized I was supposed to be taking
notes, for what, I had no clue – since the meeting was being taped, both
by video and audio, we could probably just get copies of those if we needed
to.
 
But I did as I was told, just
in case.

“Did you have a sexual relationship with
Ms. DeClair?”

“Yes,” Noah replied.
 
He sounded bored, like the fact that
he’d had a sexual relationship with a girl who’d been murdered was of no
consequence.

“But you just said you were friends.”

“Friends can have sex, Detective,” Noah
said, his tone hard.
 

I felt my cheeks heating up and I
concentrated hard on my legal pad.

“What kind of sex did you and Ms. DeClair
have?” Detective Rake asked.
 
He
leaned back in his chair, casually crossing one leg over the other, like he was
used to questioning wealthy businessmen about their involvement with the victim
of a murder.
 

“The kind I always have,” Noah said,
smirking.
 
“Good.”

Professor Worthington sighed. “Listen, my
client has been more than cooperative, coming down here on a Saturday to answer
questions about a crime he hasn’t even been charged with.
 
And if you’ve come here to drill him
about his sexual history, well, that’s ridiculous.”

“On the contrary, Professor
Worthington.
 
This case has everything
do with Noah’s sexual history.”

It did?
 
My heart skipped a beat.
 

Detective Rake picked a file folder up
off his desk and opened it, his eyes scanning down the document on the front
page.
 
“Do you know a club called
Force?” he asked.

Noah’s eyes immediately darkened.
 
“Yes,” he said.

“Would you say you’ve been there
regularly?”

“Don’t answer that,” Worthington
instructed quickly.

Noah opened his mouth, like he wanted to
say something, but then he stopped himself.

“Isn’t it true you met Ms. DeClair at
Force?” Detective Rake pressed.

Noah stayed quiet, his hands balled into
fists at his side.

I’d stopped taking notes now, completely
rapt by what was happening.
 
What
was this club, Force?
 
I’d never
heard of it, but it sounded dark and creepy, the kind of place where shady
deals got made.

I remembered all the rumors that had
circulated about Noah, the things Cora and other people at my law school would
say about him.
 
How he had ties to
the mob, how he would break rules to win a case, how he was ruthless in the
courtroom, eviscerating witnesses and going head-to-head with judges.
 
Had he been engaging in shady dealings
at Force?
 
And what would that have
to do with his sexual history?

“My client has an alibi for the night Ms.
DeClair was killed,” Worthington said.
 
“I’d also like to remind you that he hasn’t been charge with any crime,
and that he’s been cooperating with police to his fullest capabilities.”

“Right,” Detective Rake said, raising his
eyebrow just a tiny bit, making it clear he thought that if this was Noah’s idea
of cooperating fully, then they were going to have a problem.
 
“And I’d like to remind you and your
client that we’re still determining the timeline of Ms. DeClair’s death, and
that his alibi still needs to be verified.” Detective Rake then reached back
into his folder and slid another photo across the table.

“Do you recognize this woman, Mr.
Cutler?”

I couldn’t see the picture, because it
was angled away from me.

But I saw Noah glance at it, and then his
whole face changed.
 
It went from
annoyed and angry to stony with a simmering rage building beneath the
surface.
 

“Put that away,” he said, his voice
controlled and even.

“Weren’t you engaged to this woman, Mr.
Cutler?”

“All right, that’s enough,” Worthington
said.
 
“We didn’t come down here to
be treated like –”

“And isn’t it true, Mr. Cutler, that your
ex-fiancé, Nora Hogan, was killed in the exact same manner as Ms. DeClair?”

“We’re leaving,” Worthington said,
standing up.

Noah sat there, stony faced.
 

I took in a deep breath and held it,
wondering what the hell was about to happen.
 
I didn’t have to wait long.

Noah stood up and then leaned over the
desk until he was right in the detective’s face.
 
“Do not
ever
say
her name again,” he snarled.
 
“If
you do, I will end you.”

His face was red, his hands gripping the
edge of the desk forcefully.

“Come on,” Worthington said, grabbing
Noah’s arm and trying to pull him back.
 
“Noah, come on.”

Noah shrugged him off, wrenching himself
out of the professor’s grasp.
 
“I
will end you,” he repeated.

“Noah,” Worthington said. “Come on.”

Noah stood there for another moment, then
turned and headed for the door.
 
As
he went, he reached his arm out and angrily pushed a can of pencils off the
detective’s desk.

I hurried out after Noah and Worthington,
even though apparently neither one of them even remembered I was there.

Noah stormed ahead, back through the
double doors before barreling through the lobby and back out onto the street.

“What the fuck was that?” Worthington
seethed once we were out of the police station.

“That was a fucking ambush,” Noah
said.
 
He was putting his gloves
back on.
 
“I’m not talking to them
again.
 
They can go fuck
themselves.
 
They think I killed
Dani DeClair?
 
Yeah, well, prove
it.”

“No, I mean, what the fuck were you
doing?”
Worthington demanded.
 
“They have you on tape threatening a
police office.
 
Do you know how
that makes you look?
 
Not to mention
if there’s ever a grand jury hearing, they’ll – ”

“I told you,” Noah said calmly, “I don’t
give a fuck what they do.
 
And if
you can’t accept that, well, then, maybe I should find a lawyer who can.”
 
He started walking toward the street, where
he climbed into the backseat of his waiting limo.

Besides the slight look of disapproval
he’d given me when I asked Detective Rake for some coffee, he hadn’t
acknowledged my presence at all.

 
“Jesus,” Professor Worthington swore under his breath.
 
He reached into his coat pocket and
pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
 
He lit one up and exhaled slowly.
 
He glanced over at me, seemingly remembering for the first time that I
was there.

“You smoke?” he asked, holding out the
pack and offering me one.

I shook my head no.
 

He took another long drag and I just
stood there, not sure what I was supposed to say.
 
This definitely wasn’t the way I imagined my first foray
into the real world of law going – me having slept with a potential
suspect, finding out that a couple of other women he’d slept with had ended up
murdered.

My phone started ringing, and I fumbled
through my bag until I found it.

It was a number I didn’t recognize.

“Charlotte Holloway,” I said, deciding to
try and sound professional in front of Professor Worthington.
 

“Hi, Charlotte Holloway.”
 
The voice was smooth as silk, and
instantly recognizable.
 
“This is
Noah Cutler.”

“Oh,” I said.
 
“Hi, Noah.”

Worthington looked up with interest.

“I’d like to discuss what just happened
in there,” he said.
 
“Would you be
available for a meeting?”

“Where are you?”

“Sitting in my limo.
 
Watching you.”

I bit my lip, considering.

“You look cute when you bite your lip
like that.”

“Let me ask Professor Worthington,” I
said.
 
I covered the phone with my
hand, why, I had no idea, since there was no reason to – Noah could hear
everything anyway, and besides, he was watching us.

“Noah wants to have a meeting,” I
said.
 

“Of course,” Worthington said.
 
“When?
 
Where?”

“Just you,” Noah rasped into the phone.

“What?”

“Just.
 
You.
 
Not
Worthington.”

I paused, my heart hammering in my
chest.
 
“He, um… he wants it to be
with just me.”
 
My face burned, as
I realized how that sounded.
 
Noah
was making it perfectly clear that he wanted time alone with me, doing everything
but coming out and saying that it had to do with something of a personal
nature.
 
Why else would he want to
have a meeting with a law student?

“Go,” Professor Worthington said,
seemingly unfazed.
 
“Whatever he
wants, go.”

“When?” I asked into the phone.

“Now.”

“Where?”

“Come to my limo, Charlotte.”

The line went dead.

“He wants me to go to his limo,” I
said.
 
“He wants to read over the
notes I took.”

Professor Worthington nodded.
 
“Sure,” he said.
 
“Do whatever he wants.”
 
I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination,
but I thought I heard an implication in his tone, like maybe he was telling me
to do whatever it took, in whatever way.

I nodded and slid my phone back into my
bag.

When I got to the limo, I opened the door
and slid inside.

Noah was sitting in the seat across from
me.

“Hello,” he said conversationally, as if
he hadn’t just been ignoring me for the past hour.

“Hi,” I said as I settled in.
 
The limo started moving, and I
frowned.
 
“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere.”
 
He moved over, sitting next to me, then put his hand on my
leg.
 
He edged the bottom of my
skirt up until it was above my knee.
 
“You have to stop wearing these tight little skirts,” he said.
 
“The way your ass looks in them drives
me crazy.”

I looked at him and blinked.
 
“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding you, Charlotte.
 
Your ass is sexy as hell.”
 
He pulled me toward him, and his lips
were on my neck, tracing a line down my collarbone.
 
His hand slid up my skirt and cupped my ass.
 
He squeezed.
 
“Every part of you is gorgeous.”
 
His hand moved up my side and squeezed my breast.
 
“That asshole in there was staring at
your tits.
 
Outfits that show your
body like this should only be for me.”