Mark

The moment Lara steps out the door, I turn on my phone, switching over to the app and watching the green dot as she leaves the building. I hate letting them go alone, but I don’t want her pushing me out again. I want her to know she can trust me to trust her.

So I have to let her do this.

I can’t follow her like the overprotective lover I am.

My stomach cramps, and I step to the bed where our little daughter sleeps. Her soft lashes lightly touch her rosy cheeks, and her brown hair bends in tiny curls around her ears.

I pick up my phone again and see the dot has moved deeper into Capitol Hill. Opening the messenger app, I text Roland.

Come watch Jilly while I get my shit out of your room.

When we checked in, he got me a key, but I wasn’t sure if Lara would welcome me or push me away. I was angry and defensive, and so desperate to see her. Our reunion went differently, much better than I expected.

A light tap on the door, and Roland holds up the card for his room when I open it. We trade places, and I head down to where he’s staying. My carry-on suitcase is in the corner, and I quickly type in the code for the safe.

Taking out my light brown holster, I sling it over my shoulder and fasten the small buckle across my chest before slipping the black .45 Glock pistol into its leather case under my arm at my ribcage.

It’s loaded, and even though I hope I don’t have to, I’m prepared to use it.

Back in the room, Roland is reclined on the bed with sleeping Jillian at his side. The television is on with the volume turned low, and a flashy musical fills the screen.

“Where did they go?” he asks, eyes fixed on the show.

“Meeting some kids who work with Gavin,” I say, taking out my laptop and pulling up the New Orleans Police Department’s website.

“What for? Research?”

“I’m not sure. Lara didn’t think it was anything to worry about, so I let her go alone.”

“That’s very big of you.” I glance up, and that skeptical grin is on his face again.

“Yeah, well, I’m trying not to give her reasons to lie to me. I don’t want her running again.”

“She ran because she wanted to protect you. You’re a cop.”

“That’s right. I am.” And if I have to I sit here and wait, I’m doing my own research.

I type in my badge ID and password, and once I’m connected, I type in the words Guy Hudson and the address for the old theater.

The record of the fire appears, but no photographs, which is strange. Another surprise, his cause of death is listed as blunt-force trauma to the head, not smoke inhalation or fire.

Not what I was expecting.

The report states a beam or some other structure must have fallen, delivering a fatal injury as the victim lay in bed. His body was only partially burned in the fire, due to its location in a suite of rooms below the stage.

Rooms I know well.

“There should be pictures,” I say to myself.

“What are you doing?” Roland watches me.

His hand is on Jillian’s chest, and she’s awake, waving a tiny fist in the air and kicking both feet. Her little legs make shushing sounds in the soft duvet.

“Checking the police report for Guy’s death. I found it, but you’re right, a lot of the information I’d expect to see is missing.”

Standing, I go to the bed where my baby girl is moving around. Kneeling at the side, I slide my finger along her tiny fist until she grasps it. She’s so strong. Her blue eyes meet mine, she smiles, and even with my mind troubled, I smile back as I hold her little hand.

“I told you Gavin called in a favor,” Roland says, lifting her off the bed. “She needs to be changed. What are you trying to find?”

“I don’t know… anything.” I filter through the reasons for a partial police report. “Looking at that, I’m convinced something’s being hidden or covered up. Maybe it wasn’t Guy’s body they found—”

“It was Guy’s body.” My natural suspicion is piqued by his quick reply.

“What makes you so sure?”

He shrugs, but I can tell he’s backpedaling. “I was there. I saw Gavin’s face. I saw the clothes on the body… He was in his secret salon. It was clearly Guy.”

Watching him go to the door, my brows furrow. He leaves the room carrying Jillian, and I sit thinking. Would Roland help with a cover up? Why? Who is he most loyal to…

I think I know.

I return to the police database and enter Roland Desjardin. Nothing comes up. I try again using the theater as his address. Again, nothing comes up.

My throat tightens, but I type Larissa Hale and the theater address.

Nothing comes up, and I sit back, exhaling with relief.

I’m going crazy sitting around here waiting for her to come back. Grabbing my phone again, I study the little dot. It’s still somewhere deep in Capitol Hill, but it’s moving now.

Pushing off my knees, I go to the room phone and order a pizza and two beers from room service. I text Roland, letting him know to come back for food then I stop at the room safe to secure my gun.

If I plan to dig deeper into the Guy Hudson case, I’ll have to wait until we return to New Orleans. In the meantime, I need to shower.

* * *

Lara

The Redwood is a dive bar clearly popular with the locals. Inside, it looks like an old hunting lodge with dark wood walls, floors, and exposed-beam ceilings. Matching wooden tables and chairs are scattered throughout, and red lights cast an amber glow throughout the interior.

The place is brightened a bit by white Christmas lights twined around the skinny columns lining the floor, and antlers from all sorts of animals—deer, moose, something I don’t even recognize—are hung between the neon beer signs. The faintest scent of ancient cigarette smoke still lingers from before the ban, and at the far end of the room, an enormous television flickers to life with the start of the black and white movie The Mummy. This place is truly a relic.

Joshua sits across the small table from me beside a girl with shoulder-length neon-rainbow hair. It’s too dark for me to tell if she’s wearing a wig or if it’s all hers.

“This is some place,” I say to no one in particular.

Josh is busy shelling peanuts and eating them. He’s wearing a tailored, vintage blazer over dark jeans, and a Guinness is in front of him. The rest of us are having soft drinks.

“It’s classic Cap Hill,” he says, grinning at me. His neon orange hair is covered with a gray beanie. “It closed for a little while, and protests were organized until it reopened.”

“Really?” I look around wondering why.

“So what do you want anyway?” The girl I assume is Candi shifts in her chair.

“Is Candi your real name?” Molly leans forward, studying her intently, almost like she’s looking for signs of herself in this person.

“No, I changed my name to Candi. That’s Candi with an I and a star on top.”

Molly immediately sits back roughly in her chair, seeming disgusted with that additional information. “Let me guess… No, you tell me, why Candi?” Her tone is sarcastic.

The girl flutters her eyes and spins a lock of hair. “Because I’m sweet like candy, but I don’t rot your teeth.”

“Real original,” Molly mutters under her breath.

Candi’s eyes flash and her tone turns harsh. “You’re real original. Silver hair went out three years ago. What’s your name, anyway?”

Molly’s eyes flicker to mine, and she grins. With that outburst, Candi might have redeemed herself.

“I’m Maggie and this is my sister Lucy.” She turns to Joshua. “She’ll do.”

“Do what?” Candi asks, and I look to the both of them wondering the same thing.

Joshua only continues eating peanuts, tilting his head toward my partner for the answer.

“Tell me about working for Brisbee,” Molly says. “You’ve been with him since you ran away from home?”

The girl pulls what looks like a plastic cigarette from her pocket and puts it in her mouth.

“Uh, you can’t vape in here,” Joshua leans forward, looking over his shoulder. He almost seems uncomfortable with his role as narc.

“I’m just sucking on it,” she says then cuts her eyes to Molly. “I lived on the street for a few weeks, then I heard about this guy who could get me work. So yeah, I started working for him around the time I got here.”

Molly leans forward, lowering her voice. “Have you ever seen him with kids?”

Candi frowns. “What do you mean? He’s not a pedo if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No,” Molly clears her throat. “Does he… sell out any kids? Underage kids?”

“I don’t know.” Candi continues sucking on her fake cigarette. “I don’t know who all he works with.”

“Okay… Have you ever been made to work when you don’t want to?” Molly’s voice is urgent, pressing.

I’m troubled by how much she’s trying to force this issue. I want to argue with her and tell her she has no evidence Gavin, a.k.a. Brisbee, would do something like that outside of Guy’s control. We can let it go, end the quest…

But she’ll never accept that from me.

She needs to eliminate every person associated with what happened to her. I understand her drive, but it doesn’t make it any less grueling.

“No,” Candi says, and she looks over her shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry I’m not telling you what you want to hear, but Bris treats me right. Now I’ve got to go.”

She stands, and looks over at Josh. “Bye, Josh.”

“Wait!” Molly rises, opening her clutch. “Take this. It’s my number. I want you to call me or text me if anything like what I described happens. I’ll help you.”

The girl looks at the card a few moments not taking it. Joshua reaches out and takes the card from Molly then he stands. Candi heads for the door, but Joshua hesitates.

“I’ll talk to her.” His face is serious, and his eyes move to Molly’s. “I’m sorry if that’s what happened to you.”

She blinks away, her aversion to pity strong.

I reach out and touch his arm. “Thanks.”

He tosses a ten on the table and hustles to the door after Candi. I look at Molly. Her dark brows are pulled together, and her arms are crossed.

“Come on,” I say, reaching for her. “Let’s head on back.”

She ignores my hand, and we leave, making our way up the sidewalk quickly to our hotel. She’s not talking, and I’m anxious to get back to Jillian and Mark. Still, I can tell by her eyes, she’s thinking.

“What’s on your mind?” I nudge her arm with my elbow.

Blinking down to the path in front of us, she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and doesn’t answer.

“You can tell me,” I urge, but she turns her head, almost as if she’s fighting tears.

“Molly?” My voice is softer. “What are you thinking right now?”

We walk a few more paces in silence, the only noise our heels on the pavement. Until she stops.

“I thought I could expose him for the monster he is. I thought I could do something good here, break up his whole ring…” Her voice cracks, and my heart aches. “Then I find out it was just me. I was the one who was worthless. I was the kid who didn’t matter. It was only me… just me.”

She stops and turns to face the brick wall, and her shoulders shudder forward. Her arms tighten over her waist, and for a moment, she holds herself tightly as if trying to keep the shattered pieces from flying out into the world.

“Oh, Molly,” I touch her shoulder, but she steps forward, away from my comfort.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffs, straightening quickly.

She pushes her hair back and shakes the grief away. It’s what she always does, and I hate it.

Clearing her throat, she swallows the tears. “So I made a mistake. It doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Why don’t we just do what we originally said?” My voice is gentle. “We can confront him, see if he’ll explain himself, maybe even apologize, and put it to bed.”

Her lips are a straight line. “I don’t want his explanations.”

“I know.” I put my arm around her waist. “But sometimes in life, it’s the best we can hope for.”

It’s another of those rare times when she’ll let me touch her. They’re becoming less and less as time passes. Molly’s been pulling away from me since Jilly was born, and now she’s far away, somewhere in her mind where she’s planning, analyzing, devising.

We’re closer to the hotel, and I try one last time. “Killing isn’t the answer. It won’t bring you peace.”

She only steps out of my arm, and enters the hotel ahead of me, going to the stairwell and jogging away, leaving me behind.

I let out a sigh and go to the elevator. On the short ride up, I decide it’s time for me to do what I came here to do and heed Roland’s advice.

Tonight I’ll go to the bar, I’ll bring Mark with me, and say what I need to say. Then I’ll go home. Molly can stay if she wants. It’s time for me to let her go and focus on being a mother… Possibly even a wife?

Sliding my card in the lock, I hear the noise of the shower running, and my mind shifts to what all is included with that title. I think about the comfort of being part of a loving family. It’s a dream that tugs at the depths of my soul.

I step out of my shoes just inside the room and move the “Do not disturb” sign to the outside. Turning the latch, a smile curls the side of my mouth, and I quickly pull off my shirt and shimmy out of my jeans. I see his dark form moving behind the sheer white shower curtain, and my lip goes between my teeth. My stomach tightens with anticipation, and I reach out to carefully open the curtain and peek inside.

The sight of his naked body steals my breath. His arms are raised, and his biceps flex as he slides large hands through his hair, rinsing away the shampoo lather.

Water streams down his powerful shoulders, creating rivulets that highlight the six pack of his abs, the V tracing his obliques, and my inner muscles clench at the sight of his cock, partially aroused and hanging thick and heavy between his thighs.

Without opening his eyes, he turns, giving me another killer view. His ass is tight and square with hand-sized indentions on each side. I don’t even realize I’m biting my lip until it hurts.

This man, the father of my baby, could be my future, my life.

I want that.

I’m going after it.

“Hey,” I say softly, stepping into the shower. I immediately press my bare breasts against his strong back, circling his narrow waist with my arms and sliding one hand down to stroke him.

His body tenses briefly, and he looks over his shoulder at me. “What are you doing in here?”

Blinking against the drops of water glancing off his skin, I meet his darkening gaze. He turns, placing his hands on my hips, sliding them up to cup my breasts, rolling hard nipples between his fingers.

“I’ll give you two guesses.” I hold his waist and rise on my toes to kiss him.

He bends down to meet me, and our lips part. The taste of fresh water is in my mouth as our tongues curl together, our bodies slippery and hot under the warm spray. Large hands move down the curve of my back, cover and cup my ass, and I slide my fingers up to his broad shoulders, down to his waist, and around to that tight ass.

I feel his erection rock-hard against my belly, and a low groan ripples through him, vibrating mine. He moves my mouth with his kisses, but I pull away, planting my lips on his chest, moving lower to circle my tongue around his tight nipple before dropping all the way to my knees and lifting him to my lips.

“Lara,” he hisses as I slide my tongue around the tip, tracing my nails along his thick shaft.

His hand is on my cheek, and I go lower, tracing my tongue along his sack, feeling his muscles jump at the sensation. Another deep groan, and I slant my eyes up, giving him a naughty grin.

“I think you like that.” I do it again, noticing a clear drop of precum.

“You have no idea.” His voice is husky.

Moving higher, I pull him into my mouth again, doing my best to take his length as far as I can. I use my hand to fill the gap, pumping and sucking. My hand on his ass feels his muscles flexing tighter with every pass. His brow is furrowed, eyes squinting as he watches me.

Having him in my mouth, feeling his body’s response to my touch, tasting his arousal sends burning need coursing through my veins. My pussy is hot and slippery, aching for him to fill me.

I pull him faster, pumping and sucking until the muscle in his jaw flexes, and he opens his mouth with a deep groan.

“Get up.” Large hands go under my arms, and he lifts me off my knees in a quick sweep.

He shuts off the water roughly and rips the curtain back, lifting my naked body against his chest. My legs go around his waist, and I grab a fluffy white towel off the rack just before we’re out of the bathroom, headed to the bed.

He puts me down fast, turning my body and guiding me forward so I’m on my hands and knees, my ass in the air facing him.

“Mark,” I gasp, as he pushes my thighs apart. I’m so ready for him.

With one solid thrust he’s inside me. We both groan, and my elbows buckle. My chest drops to the mattress, and I moan loudly as he works me, finishing what I’ve started with aggressive, demanding thrusts. He holds my hips, pulling me up to meet him, and all I can do is enjoy the ride.

I’m so wet, so hot, when he slides his hand around to find my clit, it only takes a few expert touches to have me breaking, shuddering around him.

“Fuck yes,” he hisses, holding steady, and I feel him pulsing, filling me as I clench and spasm around him.

He continues stroking my clit through his orgasm until I grasp his hand, unable to bear the almost-painful bursts of pleasure.

“Oh, God,” I whimper, and he guides us farther onto the bed, moving the towel so it’s under us as he holds my back against his chest.

One hand is tight around my waist and the other is on my breasts, stroking and caressing one then the other as his lips seal kisses against the top of my shoulder, my neck, the side of my hair.

“Mmm,” I sigh, holding his hands, closing my eyes as the residual shimmers of bliss wash over us. “I need to catch you in the shower more often.”

A soft tapping at the door interrupts us, and Mark’s hand stills on my body. “I ordered room service.”