Bobbing For Bodies: MURDER IN THE MIX 2 Page 9

  Everett and that first encounter we had come back to mind, and a quiet laugh bubbles from me.

  He’s going to be my superhero, all right, and Noah isn’t going to know a thing about it.

  * * *

  Country Cottage Road is just as cozy as its moniker implies. The streets are narrow and heavily lined with liquid ambers and oaks in every spectrum of the citrine fall color spectrum. Each house has a cluster of pumpkins festooning its porch, and wreaths filled with fall leaves and acorns sit proudly against each and every door.

  Noah parks in front of two gorgeous homes, one with white siding and a wraparound picket fence porch and the other a blue split-level with a balcony off the second story just above the front doors.

  I take a step toward the white house and fall immediately in love with its bright red entry. “That door!” I coo. “And the banisters on the porch railing make it look as if it has a white picket fence. I think there’s a clear winner.”

  Everett scowls at my quick assessment. “The only practical thing to do is look at both of them.”

  “That’s just the logical side of you speaking,” I say as I look across the street. “So, which one is yours?” I ask, threading an arm around Noah’s waist.

  “Second from the left.” He points to the cabin-like home adjacent to the one I like.

  “Perfect. I’ll set my binoculars to look right into your living room window. I am prone to spy on occasion. I can’t help it. It’s the investigator in me.” I give his side a quick pinch, and he laughs.

  “Why do you think I brought these to your attention?” He waggles his brows. “I’m prone to do the same. I can’t help it. It’s the investigator in me.”

  We share a warm laugh before heading up to the white house, and Noah punches the combination to the lock box to let us inside. Immediately I’m taken.

  “I am head over heels instantly in love,” I say. “And that’s my logical side speaking, Everett.” I skip right out into the spacious living room with a custom cutout in the wall for a television that could fit the one I own perfectly. A large fireplace sits underneath with a stone hearth, and the room opens nicely to a decent-sized dining room. Then there is the pièce de résistance, a spacious kitchen with light granite countertops with enough white glazed cabinets to house everything I own in, an island with a genuine slab of white marble, and behind it sits a commercial grade high-end oven. “Where do I sign?”

  Noah rumbles with a laugh. “Let’s check out the bedrooms and make sure it’s exactly what you want.”

  “Are you kidding?” Everett balks. “She’s not signing anything until she thoroughly investigates option two. Never sell out before you have to, Lemon.”

  “I’m not selling out.” I’m quick to roll my eyes. But, my God, how I would sell out in a second if I had that contract in front of me. Noah already ran the numbers past me on the way over, and both are within my reach.

  We sail from room to room, and each inch of this cavernous well-lit place screams home to me.

  “Pancake is going to love this place. There’s so much for him to explore, to see, to do!”

  “Pancake?” Everett looks as if I’m about to divulge the news of yet another supernatural wonder.

  “Her cat,” Noah is quick to divulge.

  “My friend. My very best friend. But don’t tell Keelie I said that. Pancake has been the dutiful man by my side ever since I brought him home.” I shoot a quick look to Noah, hoping he might offer up his services in that department. I’m not looking for a proposal for Pete’s sake. Just something to affirm how he feels about me.

  “He sounds lovely,” Everett says, pointing the way to the door. “Shall we inspect house number two?”

  The three of us head over, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see a far more spacious home than the one we just left, with an extra bedroom and bathroom attached.

  “It’s amazing.”

  “Told you.” Everett rocks back on his heels. “Always keep your options open, Lemon. You never know when you might be standing next to something better than what you have in hand.”

  Noah growls as if he were rabid. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means exactly what it says.” He cuts him a sharp look. “I’m taking off. Thanks for letting me tag along for the adventure.” He nods my way. “Lemon, text me when you’re ready to claim your prize.”

  My mouth falls open as he strides out the door, and I’m fuming he left us with such a cryptic remark.

  Noah ticks his head to the side. “Prize?”

  My mouth opens once again, and I beg for anything to stream out of it. I’d settle for a not-so-white lie at this point.

  “Coffee.” I shrug. “He bet I couldn’t go through the funeral without balling like a baby, and I managed to hold it together well enough, so he owes me coffee.”

  Noah inches back at the thought. “That’s a terrible bet.” He wraps his arms around me, and I rock steady in his arms.

  “Everett’s a terrible person.” I’m only half-teasing at this point.

  He belts out a laugh. “Go easy on him. He’s only rough around the edges because he was raised to be.”

  It never occurred to me that Everett’s tough persona was something inbred into him.

  “Fair enough. I guess you’re looking at your new neighbor. How fast do you think I can get the keys?”

  “I’ll talk to my realtor and find out asap. But let me be the first to welcome you to the neighborhood.” He lands a heated kiss to my lips, and a moan works its way up my throat.

  I pull back, nibbling on his lower lip playfully. “I’m thinking about hosting a housewarming party once I settle in, but since I’m on a strict budget, I’m only able to invite one person. Any idea who that should be?”

  A dark laugh rumbles from him as he presses me against his chest. “I have an idea.” His lids hood as he gets that naughty look in his eyes, and then just like that, he looks suddenly downcast. “But I have to ask. Are you and Everett hiding something from me?”

  “No, not at all. I promise. It’s not like that.”

  Did I just lie to Noah’s face? Oh my God, this is all Everett Baxter’s fault. If I lose the one good thing that’s happened to me in a long time—aside from the bakery, of course—I’m going to wring Judge Baxter’s illegally gorgeous neck.

  “Good.” He touches his forehead to mine. “Because I think we should start things off with open communication and one hundred percent honesty.”

  “Start things? Are we starting something?”

  His eyes bear hard into mine, and my stomach does that roller coaster thing that makes me feel about thirteen-years-old again.

  A crooked grin breaks out over his devilishly handsome face. “I think we’ve already begun.”

  “I think we have, too.”

  Noah crashes his lips to mine, and we indulge in a kiss far more daring than any of those shared before. Noah rides his arms up and down my back, along my hips before securing me tight in a warm embrace. Noah and I have started something. We are at the beginning of something that I predict will be spectacularly beautiful.

  Noah wants open communication and one hundred percent honesty.

  I can’t help but sigh as I indulge in everything he’s willing to give me.

  One out of two isn’t bad.

  Chapter 11

  It turns out, Martinelle Finance isn’t located in your routine run-of-the-mill bank, nor is it located in an offshoot due to the fact the loans department is under construction. As fate, a heck of a lot of googling, and utilizing Everett’s connections would have it—the two of us find ourselves seated in a holding room that happens to be in an underground gambling casino hidden behind your average strip club—if indeed the scandalous venue Everett and I walked through to get here was average. That’s yet to be determined, and not by me. I held Everett’s hand the entire time we were whisked through the place, and as soon as the bras came off those heavily made up dancing girls, I closed my e
yes and let Everett lead me blindly through that den of depravity. Red Satin is a dicey establishment that I never want to set foot in again, let alone have an entire string of catcalls shouted at me as I strutted my way through it. Although, in hindsight, those catcalls were most likely for the topless girls dancing for their dinner.

  “We’re going to get shot,” I whisper directly into Everett’s ear.

  He pulls back and rolls his eyes as if it were an asinine thought while a man in a white suit clicks away at a computer monitor in front of us.

  If this seedy locale, and this dizzying cube of a room they’ve stuffed us in, didn’t ring any alarms, then his glaring fashion faux paus should have sent us running.

  The heavyset man seated in front of us chokes on a cough. His nose sits crooked on his face as if it were broken at one time and someone didn’t set it right. “You’re in luck, Mr. and Mrs. Essex. We’ve got a special lending program for folks such as yourself.”

  Yourself. That fake grin on my face expands once he lets that grammar offense fly.

  I give Everett’s hand a firm squeeze, and he gives a slight squeeze back. And in no way and at no time did it feel at all sexual holding Everett’s hand—more like self-preservation. I’m sure Noah would forgive me if he knew the circumstances. And yet, Noah can never ever know the circumstances—which, of course, completely dismantles all that whole open communication and one hundred percent honesty clause we hammered out the other night. But there are simply some things that need to be done for the greater good of the people—even if that particular person is dead. Hunter needed justice, and I’m not sitting on my hands—or baking a cake as Noah would have it—until Ivy Fairbanks decides she’s going to solve this mystery.

  “What are the terms?” Everett leans in, that serious expression still pinned on his face. He decided to eschew my fashion advice and wore a suit anyhow. And now that we’re in this hot box, I don’t mind at all that Everett looks so intimidating.

  The man in the white suit twirls the pencil in his hand while staring Everett down. There is definitely some male testosterone showdown going on that I want no part in. Thank God I dragged Everett down here with me. I can’t imagine how terrifying this entire experience would have been if it were just my butter knife and me. I really do need to up my game in the weapons department. The least I can do is carry around a bottle of pan spray so I can blind a perpetrator or two.

  “Now”—Mr. White Suit tosses his hands over his desk—“in no way am I a loan shark. This is a short-term small industry loan.”

  “Numbers,” Everett grumbles. “I need numbers.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll give you the full amount due on signing. Ten points for a six-month window with each month compounding. In other words, it would behoove you to pay it off in a month.” He blinks a quick smile. “It would behoove me for you to pay it back in six months or never—collateral being the house once you sign. Until then, I’ll hold the spare keys to the two a yous vehicles. You can bring those in when we do the exchange.”

  I lean in and clear my throat. “How fast can we get the money?”

  His chest bucks a few times with a dry laugh. “Honey, I got the money here today. Getting the money isn’t a problem. You’ll have your bank account filled legally. We write cashier’s checks. And lastly, we do a drive-by twice a week past your residence. Consider it an added layer of security you didn’t know you needed.”

  “We won’t skip town,” Everett notes, and I jump in my seat.

  My God, I didn’t even connect the mafia-inspired dots! And here I thought these nice men were looking to keep our shiny new neighborhood crime-free. Ha! And they’re the criminals!

  My entire body heats to unsafe levels, and suddenly I’m itching to get out of here. But what about Hunter?

  I glance around and spot a file cabinet that looks rusted shut, then another quick sweep for any evidence of security camera and an idea comes to me. That computer he’s tap-dancing on is my best bet.

  “Excuse me”—I lift a finger weakly as I interject—“would you mind giving us a moment together so we can process this? It’s a lot to take in and uh…” Boss Hog here looks as if his patience with me is dwindling. “Well, I’m just a little ol’ baker, and I need my big, strong husband to translate all those daunting numbers for me.” As if. I shed a wide smile. That was one lie I didn’t mind at all imparting.

  He gives a sober shake of the head. “Oh, I get it.”

  And I figured you would.

  He struggles to rise before hitting the door. “I’m gonna run next door and grab a cold one. Can I get you anything?”

  Both Everett and I decline his offer. No sooner does the door shut behind him than I bolt over and seal my body against it.

  “What are you doing?” Everett hisses, his eyes bulging with horror.

  “I’m shielding the door while you look for any files on Hunter Fisher on that computer!”

  “Geez.” Everett looks as if I’ve just threatened to run over him with a semi. “I’ll hold the door. I am not violating anybody’s privacy. I happen to make a living off of other people trampling over one another’s constitutional rights.”

  He trades places with me, and I bolt to the desk where a screensaver of a scantily clad woman with her thighs split open jars me before I hit a key and the dashboard loads before me. I click into finder and begin scanning for anything that might remotely get me to where I want to be. There’s a file marked Open Cases, and I quickly scan an entire roster of names, only to realize there’s enough to fill a phonebook.

  “I’ll never get to the end of this,” I hiss.

  “Get to the end of it now,” Everett hisses back. “I’m giving you less than thirty seconds to get back in your seat.”

  “Fine.” I shut the file down and note one with the name Closed Cases. “Maybe it’s here.”

  There’s a rustle outside the door, and both Everett and I freeze solid. Everett is glaring at me as if I had accidentally dragged him off to ground zero just before a nuclear warhead were to drop out of the sky. And, honestly, that might have been more painless. The rustling subsides, and I get back to clicking. My entire body breaks out into a sweat. I can hardly steady my breathing as I scan the list all the way to the letter F.

  “Hunter Fisher!” I practically screech his name out.

  “Sshh,” Everett hushes me just as loud.

  “Okay, let’s see what it says.” I whip my phone out and snap a few pictures of the screen before reading over it quickly. “Two loans for the amount of three thousand dollars each. Both paid off in full. Ten points on pick up. March of last year and July. The foot note says—” I scan over it myself and can hardly believe it.

  “What does it say?” Everett flicks his hand through the air, signaling for me to speed it up.

  “It says money for girlfriend. Money for kid.” Huh.

  The sound of a belly laugh coming from down the hall proceeds to get louder, and I’m betting it’s Mr. White Suit.

  I quickly shut down the file, and both Everett and I slide back into our seats.

  The door swings open. “So, what’s it gonna be, kids? You in?”

  “On second thought”—I rise out of my chair as does Everett—“I’m going to ask my mother one more time.”

  Everett nods. “But if she says no, we’re coming right back. Believe me, she’s the last person I want to deal with.”

  Mr. White Suit laughs it up before giving Everett a commiserating slap to the back. “Sounds good. Go get yourself something good to eat. I’ve got a pastrami sandwich in the microwave. You let yourselves out.” He leaves the door open as he takes off, and I spontaneously wrap my arms around Everett.

  “Way to go, Mr. Sexy. You really lived up to your name.” I pull back to get a better look at him. “Hey, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were blushing.”

  “I’m not. It’s about two hundred degrees in here. We literally sweated this one out.” He presses his hand into the small of my ba
ck as he ushers us to the door. “But I think we make a heck of a team, Lemon.”

  “I know we do. And we make a pretty cute couple, too. You were brilliant. I could just kiss you.”

  We share a laugh before speeding our way through the strip club. Everett tries to turn his head toward the stage, and I don’t hesitate to swat him.

  As soon as we hit daylight, we hightail it to the fast food restaurant across the street where Everett parked his car. I met him at the coffee shop in Ashford as planned, and once we get back, I plan on caffeinating myself back to the land of the living after that near-death experience with the underworld.

  “What do you say we blow this one cow town and I buy you a cup a joe, Mr. Sexy?” I tease. Way back when he refused to give me his name, I hung out at the coffee counter and snooped to see what the barista would scrawl onto his cup. It turns out, she had the aforementioned hot-to-trot moniker picked out just for him.

  “Mr. Sexy?” a female voice bleats from behind, and we turn to find a haughty redhead tucked in a black pea coat.

  “Detective Fairbanks.” I’m so stunned to see her I keep blinking in hopes she’ll evaporate like a bad vision.

  She ticks her head to the side with a husky laugh. “Heard it all. The two of you really do make a cute couple.”

  My mouth falls open. “You did hear it all, didn’t you?”

  She strides our way, her affect hard as flint. “It’s called surveillance, sweetie. The place is tapped. The entire conversation was on blast.”

  A thousand scenarios run through my head at once, and all of them involve Noah. The world sways beneath my feet, and I can hardly catch my next breath.

  “I swear it’s not what it looks like. You can’t tell Noah.”

  A shadowed figure steps out from behind her, and into the light emerges Noah Corbin Fox.

  “She doesn’t have to tell me, Lottie.” His voice is calm yet strained. “I heard every last word.”