Chapter 26

Cohen

I remained quiet as the sheriff spoke, his words floating into my mind and bashing against the sides of my skull.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ashton,” the man said, though there was hardly an ounce of softness or sympathy in his voice. “You can call the coroner when you’re ready, go see the body.”

“I don’t want to see the body,” I said gruffly. “I’ll have my assistant make the funeral arrangements. I don’t want to call the coroner, either.”

“Mr. Ashton—”

“Did they do the autopsy this morning?” I asked him. He cleared his throat.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It seems your uncle died of smoke inhalation. It wasn’t the flames that got him,” the sheriff said. “Again, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine. Just wrap it up. Thanks,” I said, and hung up before he could say anything else. I tried not to think about it, but instead picked up the phone to call my assistant.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hank, you ready? I have a lot I need you to do for me,” I said to him when he picked up. He sounded nervous, as he always did, something that I had come to expect of him. He was good at what he did—a sharp, bright young man, but still seemed to get fidgety every time I addressed him directly.

“Yes, Mr. Ashton,” he said quickly. “I’m here. And I’m so sorry about Paul.”

“Thanks. I sent you a text about the fire last night. Did the sheriff get ahold of you?”

“Yes,” he said. “He says the investigation is open. They think it was—”

“It was the wiring,” I said. “Most certainly the wiring.”

“The wiring. Right. I told them you said that.”

“Good,” I said to him, knowing that the right word of influence from me would make all the difference in the investigation. If Cohen Ashton said that his house burnt down due to wiring, that’s how his house burnt down. It was one of the perks of being as powerful as I was, though I didn’t feel particularly powerful in that moment.

“I was planning to call the insurance company today. You said you were going out of town. Um, is everything all right?”

“Yes. I’m going to deal with some family things. I’ll be back as soon as I’m finished.”

“OK, Mr. Ashton. Is there anything else?”

“No, thank you, Hank,” I said to him, hanging up the phone. I picked it up again to dial Grayson, who again didn’t answer. I cursed and hung up the phone, then went back into the room to see Abby sitting on the bed in her gigantic T-shirt and sweats, staring up at me with a tentative look on her face.

“Did you call your assistant?”

“Yes,” I said to her. “And I tried to call Grayson—”

“Grayson?”

“My P.I. But he’s not picking up the phone. We’re just going to head to his office.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked. In fact, I wasn’t sure at all. But I needed to find out where Gregory and Bella were staying. There was a burning need in me to confront them, even though I had no idea what the end would be. Her words flashed through my mind again, wondering if I’d kill them, and I pushed the thought away as soon as it arose. I didn’t want to think about the end game, but to take it one step at a time, otherwise I’d get ahead of myself and ruin my chance to get back at them.

“Yes,” I said to her. She stood up then, close to me, making me instinctively want to reach for her. I kept my hands to myself though, not wanting to scare her away or break whatever tentative string was binding her to me, even if it was only that she needed closure for Paul.

“You’re telling me the truth, right?” she asked, studying my face. “Because if this is some dumb stunt—”

“You’ll go along with it anyway,” I said to her. “Won’t you?”

She said nothing, but stuck her tongue out at me for one playful second before turning away.

“On to the detective,” she said. “Tell me more about him. What had he found out about Gregory and Bella?”

“He said that he’s sure they’ve pulled the inheritance scam before in North Carolina. Didn’t say anything about murders. Bella is some two-bit model from New York and Gregory is her scam artist friend. That’s all I know,” I said as we walked into the lobby of the hotel.

“What about the inheritance? From Paul? Now that he’s dead—”

“All inheritance matters will be put on hold until we deal with the burial. I have Hank taking care of things right now. No money is going anywhere until I look it over.”

“So you think they’ll stay put? Wait for the lawyers?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m hoping they’ll stay in town and be easy to find. I’m not sure where they stayed before but I think that Grayson must know. I had him follow them around for a little bit after you kicked them out of the house.”

“OK,” she said. “So we find their hotel, then what?”

“I’m not sure,” I said to her. “I want to talk to them.”

“Cohen—”

“You’re not going to stop me from doing this, Abby,” I said to her. She stared at my face while we stood by the curb to hail a taxi, which would take us back to the house and back to my car. We rode in relative silence, on the opposite end of the backseat from each other, her hand in the middle seemingly reaching for mine. I thought about taking it but didn’t, instead staring out the window as we made our way to the mansion.

I held my breath when we pulled up, my eyes widening at the pile of ruins, the only thing left of my family home. It was burnt clear down to the foundation, everything gone, nothing but ashes left. The taxi stopped but I didn’t move, only staring, until Abby shook my arm gently.

“Come on, let’s get to the car,” she said softly. I turned my face to look at her, trying to keep the pain out of my eyes. We got out of the car and I walked toward the house, standing there and looking over everything I’d lost. I felt her hand take mine, twining our fingers.

“I’m so sorry, Cohen,” she said.

“It’s not your fault,” I said, my jaw tight. My anger grew with every passing second, threatening to consume me almost as much as my desire for Abby always did. “It’s theirs.”

“Let’s go,” she said, and led me over to where my car was parked not far from the house. I got in and started it, tense as she climbed in beside me.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now we go see Grayson,” I said, pulling out of the long drive.

“What if Grayson doesn’t know anything else? If he’s lost them?”

“Then I’ll hunt them down, Abby,” I said to her. “They’re not going to be able to run from me. Not for long.”

She didn’t say anything, but looked out the window while we made our way toward Grayson’s office downtown.

“Abby,” I said to her after a long moment of quiet. “I’m sorry about your mother’s letters. I know how much they meant to you.”

“It’s fine,” she said in a dry voice. “It was stupid to carry them around anyway, like some idiot from a romance novel. That shit isn’t real. People don’t—they don’t fall in love like that, with everything perfect. People don’t end up happy. My mom and Paul prove just that—they were separated from each other whether they loved each other or not. It’s stupid. The letters were stupid.”

The pain of her words struck me but I said nothing in response as we pulled up to Grayson’s building and parked outside. We went in and hurried up the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, and I knocked on his door as soon as we got to the second floor.

“Grayson,” I said urgently. “Grayson, come on.”

“Cohen,” Abby said, putting her hand on my arm. I shrugged her off, saw the look on her face, and was about to apologize when the door opened and Grayson appeared on the other side.

“Ashton,” the detective said gruffly. “I’m a little busy.”

I gritted my teeth.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t—”

I grabbed him by the collar then, my anger overwhelming me, and shoved him backward into the room. He stumbled back, into his desk, and stared at me with wide eyes.

“Hey,” Abby said in a soft voice. “Calm down.”

I shot her a look and took a deep breath, then turned my eyes back to the detective.

“Did you hear what happened?”

Grayson furrowed his brow. “No, what is it? Something with Bella and Gregory?”

“They killed my uncle,” I said. “They nearly killed Abby.”

“What?” the detective asked, a look of shock passing over his face. “They did what?”

“You’re telling me you don’t know about this?” I asked. “You told me that somebody died before this. An uncle of Gregory’s? A scam?”

“Yes,” Grayson said.

“How did it happen?” I asked him. I saw him swallow, saw him start to sweat, but he didn’t answer. I started toward him, taking a step forward, and he cringed back as Abby touched my arm.

“How did it happen?” I asked him again.

“There was—there was a fire. At the old man’s home. He lived in an assisted living facility at the end of his life. But it was unrelated—”

“Unrelated,” I spat. “Where have Bella and Gregory been staying? You’ve been keeping an eye on them.”

“They’ve been staying at the Copper Inn,” he said quickly. “Listen—I didn’t know—anything about your uncle. The reports all said the fire was caused by a burning cigarette.”

“What room are they staying in at the inn?”

“Twenty-four. But—”

“Let’s go,” I said to Abby, turning around.

“I don’t have anything for the cops. Not really,” the detective said before we left. “Unless you have evidence—they’re not going to do anything. Not to those two.”

“I’m not going to the cops,” I snarled at him, and left the office, the door slamming behind us.

“Cohen, wait,” Abby said once we got outside, before we got in the car. She took my hand, pulling me back onto the sidewalk.

“Why don’t we wait?” she asked, bringing her hand up to my cheek. “Grayson can get evidence if you let him. Then you can go to the cops.”

“You heard Grayson. There’s nothing the cops can do.”

She stared at my face for a moment, sadness passing through her eyes. Then she gave a slow, reluctant nod and we got in the car. I swallowed hard as we started to drive, my mind racing.

“What are we going to do when we get there?”

“We’re just going to talk to them,” I said to her, though I remembered my angry reaction to seeing Grayson, throwing him backward into his office. I didn’t know if I’d be able to resist doing the same to Gregory, and though I wouldn’t touch Bella, I certainly wouldn’t be able to restrain myself from throwing poison in her direction.

We pulled up to the inn and Abby started to get out of the car, but I stopped her by reaching over her to hold the door.

“I want you to stay in the car,” I said to her. She raised an eyebrow, then laughed.

“Yeah, right,” she said. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Abby,” I said to her sternly. “I don’t want you coming up there. I don’t—”

I cut myself off. Her head cocked to the side and she looked at me curiously.

“What?” she asked.

“I don’t want you to see me angry,” I said to her. Her features softened.

“I’ve seen you angry before,” she said.

“And it pushed you away. I lost you.”

She bit her lip.

“Let’s go inside,” she said softly. I sighed, knowing that there was no way to stop her.

We got out of the car and my heart pounded in my chest as we entered the small front room of the inn, which was an old Victorian mansion three stories tall. There was a desk in front but nobody there, and I slipped past without ringing the bell, going up the stairs to the second floor. Room 24 was to the right of me and I hurried to it right away, pounding my fist on the door.

“Gregory,” I said, raising my voice. “Gregory, open the door.”

There was no answer. I knocked again, harder this time.

“Gregory,” I nearly shouted. “Open up. Now.”

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind us, and I turned to see an old woman standing on the stairs, looking up at me with worry on her face. “Can I help you?”

“The people who were staying here—Bella Murray and Gregory Bell. Where are they?”

“They checked out this morning,” the woman said. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath as I tried to still my anger. Still, I felt like spitting fire as I opened them, glaring at her.

“Can we get a room?” Abby said. “He really—he really needs to rest.”

The old lady peered at me for a moment.

“There going to be any trouble?”

I said nothing, afraid I’d snap if I opened my mouth. I exchanged a glance with Abby, who gave me a small nod. My hands were balled into fists at my sides and I stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“He’ll be fine. He’s just exhausted. Works third shift, you know? I’m sorry about the noise,” Abby said. The woman gave a sympathetic nod then.

“You can have room twenty-four,” she said. “I’ll go get the key. Room’s two hundred dollars a night, plus tax.”

“That’s fine,” Abby said with a smile. The woman disappeared then and I gave Abby a questioning look.

“You need a break,” she said. “You need to relax.”

“Abby, I—”

“No buts,” she said in a firm voice. Despite my rage and frustration, I couldn’t help it when my lips twitched into a slight smile at the tone in her voice. She smiled back at me, and for a moment my heart seemed to calm down, though my body was still tense as ever. I glanced at the door, room 24, and felt the white heat well up underneath my skin all over again knowing that Bella and Gregory had slipped out of my grasp.

“We need to find them,” I said to Abby.

“I know,” she said. “But it’s not going to happen today. Today, we calm down.”

“Abby—” I began, but was cut off when the owner of the inn returned, handing Abby the key to the room.

“We have other guests,” the woman said. “So you need to keep your voices down.”

“Not a problem,” Abby said with a smile, moving to the door, unlocking it and pushing inside. I didn’t move for a moment, but stood in the hallway, staring into the room. I swallowed hard, and Abby took my hand and pulled me inside.

“So we’re staying here for the night,” she said.

“No, Gabriella. I need to find them. They could be gone if we wait until tomorrow.”

“Cohen, relax,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

“What?” I asked her.

“Come here,” she said, gesturing to the bed. I went to her and she gestured for me to get down on the floor between her legs. I raised an eyebrow.

“What are we doing, angel? You want me to lick your pussy?”

She blushed a deep shade of pink. “No, I’m going to massage your shoulders. Turn around and stop being a pervert.”

I laughed and sat on the floor in front of her as she perched on the edge of the bed. I was surprised when she reached down to pull my T-shirt off, and met her eye over my shoulder as she put her hands on my back and started to knead with her strong fingers. I nearly groaned as my body relaxed under her touch, my cock growing hard the longer her skin was on mine. I closed my eyes and leaned back into her, allowing her to touch everything, massage away the anger.

“Gabriella,” I said, turning to look at her, shifting my body so that I was facing hers. “Come here.”

She leaned in without hesitation, allowed me to take her mouth in a sweet kiss that went on and on as her hands traced over my bare chest. Her breathing was ragged, sharp against my lips as I covered her body with mine on the bed, my hands slipping up under her shirt to stroke the soft skin of her waist.

“Gabriella,” I said. “I want you so bad. So fucking bad.”

She only nodded, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me closer to her as she tried to slip out of her sweats. I shook my head, though, put my hands to her hips so that she couldn’t undress herself, though it felt like agony to hold myself back.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide and sweet on mine.

“I don’t want to do this if you’re not mine,” I said to her. “Not unless you’re all mine.”

“I can’t—”

“I know,” I said to her sadly in a soft voice, kissing her gently on the lips before I pulled away from her. “But I can’t do this casually.”

“Casually,” she said slowly. “I see.”

I touched her cheek as she sat up in bed, looking slightly embarrassed. I kissed it, too, brushing my lips over her skin.

“I love you,” I said to her. “I want to make love to you. I want it to be slow and deep and perfect and I want to know that I can do the same thing again tomorrow and the day after that.”

She only stared at me for a moment.

“Are you feeling better?” she finally asked. “Less angry?”

“Yes,” I said to her, realizing only then that it was true. I had relaxed under her touch, her kiss, the taste of her mouth.

“Good,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower.”

She got up quickly before I could say anything, disappearing into the bathroom, the door shutting hard behind her. I got up from the bed and started looking around the bedroom, trying to find any hint that Bella and Gregory were here. I pulled out the small trash can underneath the desk and began to search through it, pulling out each paper one at a time, uncrumpling them to look them over. My heart stopped when I saw that one was an address, written in small, neat handwriting, with a phone number underneath. I glanced at the bathroom door, listening for the sound of the water, and when I heard that it was still running I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the back.

“Hello?” came the voice on the other end.

“Hi,” I said. “I had a missed call from this number.”

“This is the Blue Moon Motel. Do you know someone staying here?” the man asked in a gruff voice.

“Gregory Bell,” I said to him, my heart skipping a beat in my chest.

“Yeah, sure. He’s here. I can let him know to call you back if you give me your name.”

“No, it’s fine. He told me to meet him at his room but I’m not sure which it is.”

“Just a second,” the man said, and I was relieved when he didn’t refuse. “Looks like they’re in twelve, in the building across the street from the office.”

“Thank you,” I said, hanging up the phone, setting it on the table as I went to the bathroom door and knocked on it.

“Abby, I’m going for a walk,” I said to her. She didn’t say anything. Guilt nagged at me as I left her behind, though I knew that I couldn’t bring her with me. It was too dangerous, and I needed to stop off and pick up a gun from where I kept it at the office. I knew that she wouldn’t abide that, so I left, filled with determination to get revenge once and for all.