Wet Work: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Read online

  “Tell me what happened.”

  His voice was soft but demanding. I swallowed some of the coffee, the burn from the hot liquid letting me know I was alive. I took a deep breath and blew it out with a shudder. “The first body was what set it all off.”

  He frowned. “The first body?”

  I nodded. “The one I found. But there’s another one.” He was still then nodded slowly as if he already knew. “I just found out. I don’t know if they’re related, but how can they not be?” I took another sip of the coffee. “I can’t deal with the bodies and the death.”

  “People die every day, Leah.”

  I took another deep breath. “I know, but not like this. Not violently. Not senselessly.” I paused then decided to keep going. “My father died when I was in college. He got pulled into a combine, and it nearly chewed his arm off before it jammed and stalled. I’d come home for the weekend, and I was going to surprise him. It was the end of the day, and I drove out to the field to see why he wasn’t home for dinner, and I found his body. He was still stuck in the machine, and there was blood everywhere.” I could feel my heart being squeezed. “Why? Nobody could figure out why he’d done it. Why had he put his hand into a running machine? People said he was probably trying to clear a jam, but he knew better than that! How long had he been stuck there before he died? How much pain did he have to endure?”

  I looked at Pax. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

  I nodded and then shrugged. “Everyone said it was just a tragic accident. The farm hands had already left for the day. They said later that he was going to finish loading the grain truck before he drove it home so he could take it to the silo first thing in the morning. Everything was perfectly normal. Then…” I paused again, remembering the shock and horror of finding him hanging under the machine by his destroyed arm. “People wanted me to go see someone about it, but I didn’t. Instead, I partied it away. And when it became too much for me I ran away to escape it all. Now… well, it’s all caught up to me now. The death. The bodies… I can’t.”

  We sat in silence for a while. I’d managed to escape from it, and I’d convinced myself I’d pushed it away far enough. It felt better now that I’d mentioned it, though. Talking about it seemed to help. It didn’t make it go away, of course, but it felt good to just get it out there.

  Pax nodded, got up without saying anything, and sat down next to me. He pulled me against his chest and held me there, protecting me from my own dark past.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I held her. A lot of this was my fault. Not directly, of course. I hadn’t planned it so that she would find the body. In fact, having her find it has been nothing but a pain in my ass. She was just an innocent bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But everything else, that was because of people like me who didn’t care what the rest of the world did or felt or saw. If they stayed out of our way, we didn’t hurt them. Everything else didn’t matter.

  It was starting to matter now. I didn’t even care about this girl, not the way I was supposed to for all the effort I was putting into her. Men like me just didn’t do relationships. And apparently, girls like her just didn’t understand that. She thought I was a knight in shining armor and considering how many times I was in the right place at the right time, it was starting to ring true.

  And it was enough to make me sick. I didn’t want to sit with a blubbering woman on my lap. I didn’t want to be involved with thoughts and feelings and all that crap. Guns, fists, alcohol and obligation-free sex were so much simpler. But with her delicate body sobbing up against my chest, I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d come to be that way. How had it happened that I didn’t give a shit about others at all?

  Leah was innocent and undeserving of someone else’s problems. She had so fucking many of her own. All that shit she’d just poured out about her dad, even for someone like me, that must have been a lot to handle. I knew how to shut myself off, how not to care too much if the person died, and how not to go to pieces when eventually, inevitably, they did. Leah wasn’t wired like that. She was raw and susceptible to pain. For the first time in my life, I labeled something that happened to someone as a crime of sorts.

  I stroked her blonde hair, and slowly her sobbing stopped, her breathing evened out, and she just lay with her body against my chest, her head on my shoulder. The room was quiet all around us, the chirp of a bird every now and then outside the only thing breaking the silence. It would be dark soon. Leah was not someone who deserved darkness.

  I didn’t know what to do. I could hold her now; I could be nice, like I’ve been doing, but eventually who I was, and what I wanted, would come out. I wasn’t going to be able to keep up this act forever. After we’d had sex everything had seemed perfect. She’d drawn the line and made it all about sex and nothing else. I’d loved it then.

  I had arrived here, expecting her to still be bubbly and upbeat. I was going to get her to call the cops and ask about the body. A concerned citizen following up. Maybe, if she were in the mood, we’d have another tumble on sweaty sheets before I left. But I would have what I needed, and I wouldn’t have to pretend anymore. But this, with me comforting her, was me erasing that line and making it about more again. I was the one that was jeopardizing this relationship and the direction it was heading. I was making it about companionship when I hated the damn word. I didn’t want companionship. I just wanted a fuck buddy and nothing else.

  Her breathing was slow and steady, and there was a calmness about her now that hadn’t been there since I’d walked through the door. I inched away enough to see she’d gone to sleep. I’d never seen a woman hysterical before, but she’d been so close I’d gotten nervous about what to do with her if she had a meltdown. This version of her, the one where she was in control, sort of, was easier to deal with.

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, and with the other, I pulled her legs over mine, so she was half on my lap. I hooked my arm underneath her knees and grunted to my feet. I wasn’t going to wake her up. She needed the sleep. It was the only cure besides alcohol I could think of.

  I carried her upstairs, struggling to get her feet past the banisters on the staircase and trying not to knock off pictures. I put her on the bed and pulled her shoes off before pulling a cover over her, hoping it was enough. I wasn’t going to undress her and put her in bed. I wasn’t a nurse, and it seemed wrong in any case.

  I stood with my hands on my hips, watching her for a moment. She looked concerned, even in her sleep. Her face had a slight frown on it, and her eyes moved like she was looking back and forth underneath her closed lids. I sat down on the bed again, the mattress dipping under my weight, and put my hand on hers. She relaxed immediately. This was what it was all about, wasn’t it? She did see me as a savior of sorts.

  I was in a hell of a lot of trouble. I wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one without hurting her, and pain was the last thing I wanted to cause her.

  It looked like I was going to have to stick around for a while. The truth was, though, I still needed her help with the cops. I could stick around for a while longer if it were necessary. Just until she had it together and I had what I needed. It wasn’t weakness on my part; I was just doing my job.

  I got off the bed as slow as possible and let go of her hand. She didn’t lapse back into her restless state, and I was relieved I could leave without feeling guilty.

  I turned around and walked out of the room, making my way back downstairs and letting myself out. She would be okay. I wasn’t abandoning her. If I cared for her anymore, I might start believing the illusion that I cared about her, and that was dangerous.

  I would take care of her and protect her until she had her shit back together. And once she did I was going to get what I needed and then carry on with the life I knew. A life without tears and emotion. A life where the only thing that mattered, the only thing pledged, was my loyalty to the VCMC.

  Wha
t had I told myself earlier? This wasn’t weakness. And it was going to stay that way. I wasn’t going to let it get in my way. I just had to keep telling myself that this was all about avenging a death, preparing for war, and walking away victorious yet again.

  That was what it was all about. Only that.

  I stepped out of her house and quietly shut the door, giving the knob a twist to make sure it locked. I paused and decided to give it a shot. I spent a moment finding the coroner’s office number and then gave them a call.

  “I’m calling to find out if the body of Jonas Brandt’s body has been released.”

  “And you are?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.

  “Paxton Park. I’m his brother. Well, half-brother,” I added in case he picked up on the difference in last names.

  “Just a moment.”

  I leaned on my bike a moment and smoked a cigarette as I listened to dull on-hold music.

  “I don’t show that we have, or ever had, a Jonas Brandt. This is the Coos County office. Are you sure you have the right office?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I was calling Curry Country. My mistake. Sorry to bother you.” I hung up. “Shit.” I drummed my fingers a moment. “Fuck it.”

  I dug through the note feature on my phone until I found Detective Reynolds number. I was either going to get my answer, or I was about to potentially screw over my only chance to get my answer, but I was out of options and out of time.

  “Detective Sergeant Reynolds.”

  “Detective Reynolds. I’m Clive Tennyson, Leah’s father. I’m calling to follow up on the body that she found. Has it been identified yet?”

  “Just a moment, Mr. Tennyson,” Reynolds said, and I heard the thump as the phone was set aside. I sweated a moment then Reynolds returned. “No. We’re still investigating.”

  “So, nothing?”

  “Not at this time. No matches on the prints, and we’re still waiting on dental records and blood work. This is a tough one, Mr. Tennyson. No clothing and no ID, and being in the ocean, are making it difficult to identify the body. He doesn’t closely match anyone on a missing person’s file. How’s Leah doing? She was pretty shaken up.”

  “She’s hanging in there, but it would be a load of her mind if she knew the body had been identified.”

  Reynolds sighed. “I suppose I can see that. Unfortunately, I don’t have any good news.”

  “Thank you, Detective. I’m sure you’re doing all you can,” I said and then ended the call.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. I dialed Butch’s number. I needed to find out if Jonas had ever been picked up and fingerprinted. If he had, the lack of a hit on the fingerprints would mean the stiff wasn’t Jonas. That was something at least.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When I woke up, I was in bed with my clothes on, and I felt horribly empty, like something had been there and it was taken away now.

  I rolled onto my back and looked at the ceiling, my emotions raw. I remembered everything—the news of the dead body being found just around the corner from where I was enjoying a coffee with Abby, my breakdown, Pax arriving and sitting with me until I fell asleep. He must have tucked me into bed before leaving.

  I was sad that he’d left. I would have liked for him to stay because he made me feel safe and calm when he was around. I knew it was ridiculous to think that he could ward off the bad things that have been coming my way, but it still felt like he could protect me.

  I was being silly. I was relying on him to keep me safe from something he couldn’t possibly fight. My demons were my own. I threw my arm over my eyes and sighed. God, I’d told him about my father. No one knew that I’d been the one to find him other than my family and friends back in Indiana. It was something I hadn’t told anyone. Not even Abby. But now Pax knew.

  In a way, though, I didn’t exactly regret telling him. Maybe he wouldn’t think I was such a weirdo for getting so worked up over a dead body. Sure, it was traumatic to find a body, it would be for anyone, but it hadn’t been anyone I’d known. It shouldn’t have gotten to me so badly, but it had because of Dad.

  I got up, showered and got dressed. I didn’t want to go to work. I didn’t want to face the people there and try to pretend to be fine when the truth was I wasn’t. I stopped and stared at the door, dreading opening it, dreading going outside. I couldn’t do it. I had to search for my phone and finally found it under the couch… dead. I plugged it in and let it charge a moment before I called in sick; claiming I had food poisoning. Maybe I did. I felt sick in my stomach, but I knew in my heart that it was just me working myself into a frenzy again.

  I was sitting on the couch, watching but not seeing some stupid show about brothers sleeping with their sisters or some stupid shit, when the doorbell rang. I froze. What if someone from the office had come to check up on me? What if I was in trouble for lying? Or worse… what if it was Pax? I didn’t know how I was going to face him. He had to think I was insane for first throwing myself at him and then having an emotional breakdown.

  The doorbell rang again, and then there was a pounding on the door. I couldn’t hide out and pretend not to be here because my car was outside.

  “Leah! Open the door, or I’m calling the cops! Leah!” Abby yelled as she pounded on the door again.

  I sighed and got up, walking to the front door. When I opened it Abby stood there, looking concerned, angry and relieved all at the same time.

  “For God’s sake! Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering you phone? Are you okay?” She shoved her way into my house and slammed the door. “I’ve been worried sick!”

  “I’ve been here,” I said softly.

  “Here? In your house? You didn’t go anywhere?”

  “No.”

  “I tried to call you yesterday, twice, and again this morning, and you didn’t answer. I even came by and rang your bell. Why didn’t you answer the door?”

  “Phone was dead,” I muttered. “I was sleeping. I didn’t hear the door.”

  “Jesus Christ, Leah. What’s wrong with you?”

  “What?”

  “You know fucking what!”

  “You don’t know shit!” I shouted. “You don’t know what I’ve been through!”

  “I know enough. I know your dad died, but that was five fucking years ago. I thought you’d let that shit go. It’s time to let it go! The guy you found has nothing to do with your dad, and the guy yesterday has even less. You didn’t even see him. You need to get your shit together, girl.”

  I glared at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve never had to deal with it.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t. But everyone dies. One of these days, my parents are going to die, and I’m going to have to deal with it. It’s time you start dealing, Leah. For your own good.”

  “It’s not that easy!”

  Abby got up and moved to my kitchen and began putting the coffee on. “I never said it was easy. I said it was time for you to start dealing with it.”

  “I’m trying!”

  “How? By locking yourself in your house? Skipping work? Not answering your phone?”

  I glared at her. My logical side knew she was making sense, but my emotional side was digging in, not wanting to let go of the pain that had defined me for so long. “I’m doing the best I can. I don’t know what else to do.” I looked down, ashamed of myself, but at the same time, unable to change. “I thought I was past this. I thought moving to Oregon had let me move on. Then, when I found that guy, it all came back. Then—”

  “That has nothing to do with you!” Abby repeated firmly.

  “Then,” I said, emphasizing the word so she’d let me finish, “just when I start to get over that, another body turns up less than a block from where I was sitting.”

  “So? Would you feel better if it had been a mile away?”

  “Maybe,” I snapped. “I feel like death is following me. Everywhere I go, death is there, waiting for me.”
r />   “Don’t be stupid. You know that’s not how it works,” Abby said as she waited for the coffee to brew.

  “I know, but it’s how I feel. The only time I forget about it is when…” I stop, not wanting to finish the thought.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “On, no,” Abby said, pouring some coffee into two cups. “Finish what you were going to say.” She brought me a cup and sat down beside me. “What makes you forget about it?”

  “Pax.”

  “The biker guy?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I took a sip.

  “You need to be careful,” Abby said, and I rolled my eyes. I was old enough to know what I was doing.