Happy was one way to put it. Unlocked worked too. That first kiss had turned the key on a closed door in me. I’d shut off the woman who’d loved sex and intimacy and closeness.
But as soon as I’d let myself go there last night, with my own fingers, I’d become a woman unleashed. It was as if that single orgasm against my hotel room door had uncorked me. And I wanted more.
And I wanted more with Michael. He’d been my first taste of love, and the connection we’d shared years ago had been so deep and strong. Even though loving again was too dangerous, surely I was still allowed to experience passion and erotic joy. Especially with someone who’d once been the center of my world.
We’d waited for each other when we were younger, but now we’d matured into adults who could have sex without labels. As teens we’d been wildly idealistic; as grown men and women who’d seen the world, we had the freedom to have unfettered sex. He would be the balm to my wounded soul, the warmth to my cold heart. Maybe then I could finally live again, and stop feeling like I was walking around the earth half alive, with a frozen heart encased in my icicle ribs.
“I am happy. I’m looking forward to New York. It’s everything we couldn’t do before,” I answered him.
“Being young made some things too difficult,” he said, his tone both serious and nostalgic.
“Now we can be naughty adults. In taxis, on airplanes, in restaurants,” I said, as my dirty dreams spilled forth.
“You want all that? You sure?”
“Yes,” I said emphatically, waving my hand behind me as if to gesture to the room where we’d been. “Please don’t let my momentary freeze before scare you off.”
He held up his hands. “I assure you, I’m not scared off.”
“And I assure you that I desperately want all of you,” I said, choosing total directness right now. The truth was I’d mostly had bedroom sex, and while it had been good, I wanted hot, dirty, thrilling sex. Sex with abandon. The kind he seemed to be able to give me.
The waitress appeared to refill our water, breaking up the flirty, dirty moment. That was fine, because I also had something serious to discuss with him. “I wanted to tell you about Sanders and Becky,” I said.
Michael nodded, an intense look in his cool blue eyes. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“Becky seemed off. Like something was really bothering her,” I began, and I shared the details, including the fact that Sanders had missed the breakfast because of an appointment. I hadn’t intended to tell Michael at first, but I’d lingered on the exchange with Becky, and the fact that my old friend had said, Ever since the investigation. And the more I reflected on the conversation, the more it seemed necessary for him to know. “She seemed nervous, but sad too.”
Michael nodded, his expression focused, his jaw set. “Sad in what way?”
“She wouldn’t elaborate. I have no idea what’s going on, but something is on her mind. And I don’t want to sound the alarms, but I wanted you to know.”
“I don’t know why she’d be like that. But I’ll try to find out if it means anything.”
I reached across the table for his hand and clasped mine over it. He let out a breath, seeming to relax the slightest bit. I rewound to all the times we’d talked about his loss. He’d shared everything with me—all his hurt, all his pain. He’d cried once or twice on the phone with me, and I’d comforted him from afar as best I could as he told me the horror of what happened to his family the night after I left town.
The story was shocking to me, especially since I’d seen Thomas Paige less than thirty-six hours before he was killed. Michael and I had had breakfast with him at a little diner, eating eggs and toast as we talked about our plans. He was such a good man, so committed to doing everything he could for his son, and by extension for me. I’d thanked him, hugged him, and even told him I looked forward to the day he’d become my father-in-law. I’d believed it then—at the time, I was so certain I’d marry Michael.
“How is everything going with the reopened investigation?” I asked, threading my fingers more tightly through his, wanting to be his anchor if he needed me, like I’d been before.
“They arrested one guy, the getaway driver. And they’re looking for the mastermind, TJ Nelson. He was the guy who brokered Stefano’s hits. Apparently, he’s wanted for several murders over the years, including this one.”
I shuddered, imagining the trail of carnage the man had left behind. “Do they think your father’s death was connected to others? I thought with your mother in prison, and the gunman’s confession, that they knew the motive.” How much more clear could it be? Dora had her husband killed for the life insurance money so she could run off with her lover.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s changed. But the shooter had accomplices, and now it turns out the guy she was involved with is the head of the entire Royal Sinners gang.”
My jaw fell open, and my eyes widened. I knew of the gang from all of our talks after the murder. I grabbed my water, taking a drink, processing this newest twist. “She was involved with the head of a street gang?”
“Turns out she was buying drugs from them and running her own ring. That’s part of what the cops have uncovered now. She was selling drugs to a long list of people, including the two guys they think assisted in the killing. The shooter was her supplier, and the guy she was cheating on my dad with—well, turns out Luke wasn’t just some local piano teacher. He’s, like, the ‘deep undercover, appears innocent on the outside, but is really the leader of a street gang’ teacher.”
Shock coursed through me, spreading from my chest all the way to my fingertips, a cold, liquid sensation under my skin. “Are they arresting him too?”
Michael rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. They know he’s head of the gang, but they have to have specific evidence to link him to a specific crime, so that’s what they’re looking for. Since all the other players were part of the Royal Sinners, they’re trying to figure out if somehow that means my dad’s murder was related to the drug trade the gang is part of. The guy who supposedly masterminded the hit, TJ, was involved in a lot of the gang’s other crimes.”
I shook my head, taking it all in. I remembered details that had emerged during the trial—the lover, the affair, the life insurance. Michael had told me everything. It was crazy now that the crime might have had deeper roots. “Do you think they can find TJ?”
“I sure hope so. I want nothing more than to see all those fuckers behind bars. Forever,” he said, his voice a low seethe, his eyes sharp as knives. “I will never forget.”
His hand tightened beneath mine into a stony fist. I rubbed my palm over it, wishing I could comfort him. As I touched him, a memory flickered before me. A party. His mother saying something about a piano.
“Do you think she met her lover at a party? Your mom mentioned something once about a party with a piano.”
“You remember those kinds of details?”
I nodded. “I have a ridiculously good memory. I remember her making a dress. I asked her what it was for, and she told me.”