Chapter Thirty-One
Stacey was curled up in bed with Troy, and despite lying down, her feet ached like crazy from dancing all night.
She sat up and groaned. “Oh, man, do I have a hangover.”
He grinned. “Serves you right. I’ve never seen you drink so much.”
“Not fair. You nursed one stupid beer all night, at your own engagement party.”
“That’s because I had to stay sober to save you from yourself.”
She flopped—gingerly—back down on the bed and turned on her side. “That was a fun party last night. But I don’t think I should have tried climbing the stripper pole. I slid right down and fell on my butt. I think bruised my coccyx.”
“Yeah. Right before you asked one of the brothers if he’d served time.” Troy reached down and massaged the base of her spine.
She wriggled under his touch. “Did I? Oh, God.” She groaned as the image of a huge man with rings in his ears, nose, eyebrows, and bottom lip swam before her. “Did he have studs all over his face?”
Troy nodded with a grin. “Metal Man has studs everywhere. And I do mean everywhere.” His fingers caressed the spot she’d bruised, and she sighed in appreciation. “Don’t you remember asking him to show you the rest?”
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
Troy snorted. “Stacey, he flopped out his cock! You bent so low to see his Prince Albert, I thought you were going to give him a blow job.”
She covered her eyes with both hands in mortification. “Oh, God. I remember now. Eww! I’m so sorry if I disgraced myself.”
“Cheer up. The brothers liked you.” He bent forward and kissed the back of her neck. Just as his hand moved to massage her ass cheeks, she heard a knock at the door.
Damn.
“Ignore it. They’ll go away,” he said. “We haven’t had morning sex yet.” His fingers skimmed the crack of her bottom.
“We had morning sex at three in the morning. And if you think morning sex is going where your fingers are playing, think again.”
He chuckled. “You might like it.”
“Drunk, I might consider it.”
He started to part her ass cheeks, but she automatically clenched and moved his hand away. “Changed my mind. Make that unconscious.” She turned over to face him and ran her fingers over his chest, playing with his flat man nipples. His cock was poking into her abdomen, and she was looking forward to it sliding into her, but first, she moved down his body and took his cock into her mouth.
He moaned and arched as she swirled her tongue around the head. “I love it when you do that.”
This time, someone hammered on the door, loud and insistent.
She put a hand to her forehead to stop the unpleasant reminder of her hangover. “Damn it. Who can it be on a Sunday?”
“Wait. You’re leaving me? Like this?” Troy looked down at his cock.
“Stay right like that. Unless it’s your mother,” she added. She crawled out of bed and pulled on fresh underwear and her white poplin frock.
“My mom knows better than to get out of bed before ten on a Sunday,” he mumbled.
Disgruntled, she trudged to the front door and opened it to find two men on her doorstep. They wore crisp white shirts with official-looking emblems, navy pants, and black shoes. She tucked her hair behind her ears and hoped she didn’t have bed hair. Had she even taken off her makeup last night?
“Can I help you?” she asked cautiously.
“I’m Thomas Wren, the fire marshal responsible for Gert Town, and this is Mark Oliver, the assistant fire marshal. I’m looking for Mr. Martin?”
Her heart stalled. “That’s my father. He passed away two weeks ago. I’m Stacey Martin. What’s this about?” From the look on the man’s face, she had worse problems than bed hair or smudged makeup.
Troy joined her, putting his arm around her waist. “What’s up?”
“I know you,” Mark Oliver said, carefully observing Troy.
She didn’t like the expression on Oliver’s face. He was looking at Troy as if he was muck under his shoe.
Troy scowled. “No, you don’t.”
Thomas Wren glanced at his assistant, then back to Stacey. “May we come in, Ms. Martin?”
“I—” She glanced at Troy uncertainly. “I suppose so. What’s this all about?”
They all went into the small living room, but she was too antsy to sit down on the sofa, so everyone remained standing.
“There has been a fire in your father’s warehouse in Gert Town,” the fire marshal said.
Her heart sank, and apprehension whirled through her. “How bad? Was anyone hurt?” she asked.
A fire! Her head reeled at the thought that everything her father had worked for may have gone up in flames. Years of effort and sacrifice. Not to mention her own future. Most of her inheritance from Dad was tied up in the business.
“No casualties. But I need to inform you that the warehouse burned to the ground,” Wren said.
“To the ground?” she repeated, stunned. “Completely gone?”
“I’m afraid so. Accelerants were found. Is there any reason someone would want to burn down your father’s warehouse, Miss Martin?” Wren asked her.
She tottered on her feet, and Troy gripped her waist to steady her.
God. This news was like running full-force into a window. Her whole future had cracked and threatened to shatter.
She looked up at him then over to the two fire marshals. “My father was ill for three months before he died. I’ve just taken over the business and finished an audit on Friday. There is stock missing worth thousands of dollars. I think one of the staff has been stealing.”
“Did you inform the police?” Oliver asked. Something about his tone bothered her. He kept glancing at Troy with a hard expression.
“No. I was planning to, but as I said, I’ve only just finished the stock audit, which is on the computer at work in the office.”
Fire marshal Wren grimaced. “The office didn’t survive, either, Miss Martin,” he said.
“How is that possible?” Although the office was connected to the warehouse, it was solid brick, unlike the warehouse, which had a lighter structure.
Sweat beaded at her temples. The hangover became a stress headache thudding behind her eyes, and she started to tremble. She tried to remember whether the office computer had a backup system in the cloud, but she couldn’t think straight.
Troy pulled her close and pressed his lips to her cheek. “It’s going to be okay, Stacey.”
“No, it’s not. This was arson. A deliberate attack.” She could feel her chest tightening. She tried to breathe steadily, but it was impossible. “I need my asthma medication.” She went to her purse on the console and grabbed her inhaler.
“I know. You’re Troy DeLance,” Oliver said, pointing his finger rudely at Troy. “Knew I’d seen you before.”
“He’s my fiancé,” Stacey said, then took a deep puff.
“The son of the Slayers president,” the assistant fire marshal said with a sneer.
Adrenalin from the shock of losing the business flared. “Don’t you dare use that tone with my fiancé. He’s a brave man who has served his country for ten years. How long did you serve?”
Wren gave her a pitying look. “He’s a Slayer.”
“How is that relevant?” Troy asked, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging.
Oliver’s brows drew together. “You were the main suspect when that rocket launcher demolished the Banderos complex.”
“Seriously?” she swung her gaze at Troy. She remembered Brian and Dad telling her about something like that a year ago. How a huge explosion had rocked the area around the rival club’s headquarters. Many news channels had run the story. No one had ever been charged, but news footage had shown the Slayers in a show of force, riding their bikes in a victory lap past the demolished site.
“The charges were dropped,” Troy said, his face impassive. “Anyway, I don’t see the relevance to Miss Martin’s case.”
“How convenient,” Oliver said, his voice snide.
“Is the business insured, Miss Martin?” Wren said.
“Yes. My father made sure everything was in order before he died.” In that way they were alike, dotting all the I’s and crossing the T’s.
“We’ll be conducting a full investigation into the fire and its possible causes.” Fire Marshal Wren handed her his card. “I’d like you to come to my office next week. I have some questions, and the police will need a statement. Bring a copy of your ownership and insurance papers, too.”
She nodded. “Sure.”
He gave Troy a hard look. “The police will also want proof of the missing stock you mentioned, Miss Martin.”
“You mean the audit?”
“Insurance claims involve big money,” Wren said as the two men headed for the door. “They’ll need to see both the books and your audit.”
Oliver gave her a curt nod as he handed her his card. “We wouldn’t want suspicion to fall on an innocent employee.”