“Tell me, who invited Mac into the group?”
She squinted, deep in thought. “Bill Werner.”
“Oh boy.” Bill Werner co-owned the burrito shop on Main Street. He was a penny-pinching fella who thought the Traders owed him everything. The only thing he loved more than demanding favors was getting them. “Maybe Werner’s our guy. If he brought Mac into the group, he’d know about the kidneys.”
“He would, but…” Her head drooped in frustration. “Christ, I hope you’re wrong. The moment we question Werner, he’ll play the victim and paint us as the bad guys. He’ll rip the entire group apart.”
“We’ll think of something.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Bill.”
“But who else would know? I mean, other than people Mac confided in and…” Karl hesitated. “And you.”
She frowned. “Look, you don’t have to coddle me. I understand. I found Mac on my property, so I’m a suspect.”
“Yeah.” He scratched behind his ear. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.” She tightened her robe’s fuzzy belt. “Honestly, after this morning I deserve worse. I still can’t believe what we did. I mean, we had to, but it’s horrible.”
“Yeah.” His throat lumped up. “Tell you the truth, I keep wanting to turn myself in.”
“Don’t,” she said. Her eyes met his. “Remember, this is bigger than you and me. You turn yourself in and all sixty-six Traders go down with you.”
“Sixty-five now.”
She sighed. “Ugh. What a mess.”
Karl stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “We’ll keep a close eye on Werner.”
“Right,” she said, returning the hug. Her arms felt warm and secure around his sides. “I’ll drop by the burrito shop sometime this week. Friends close, enemies closer—that sort of thing. If Werner’s behind this, I’ll make an example of him.”
For some time, they stood there holding each other. Then she stepped back.
He sighed.
“You look beat.” Her hands squeezed his shoulders then slid down his arms to his wrists. “When’s your lunch over?”
“Forty-five minutes, give or take.”
“My son’s at the gym.” Her eyes held his. “It’s been a rough morning. Think we need some stress relief?”
Part of him wanted to agree. The rest of him felt too rotten about Mac. The last thing Karl deserved right now was—
He jumped as her hand cupped his crotch.
When he looked up, her face was mighty close to his. He could really smell that citrus shampoo now. Like he’d wandered into a Florida orange grove.
If only he could move south. Heck, vacation south.
But a trip upstairs wasn’t so bad either.
9
Once the bedroom lights were out and the blinds were drawn, Karl undressed. His duty belt hit the floor with a thud. His pants followed. In his excitement he’d forgotten to take his shoes off first. He hopped on one foot, tugging at a shoe, and bumped a photo frame on the wall. Candace, sitting on the bed, grumbled about the delay. He reminded her he usually wasn’t in uniform when these situations arose.
His clothes set aside, he moved through the darkness toward her. Pitch darkness was part of their ritual. They needed it. If the lights were on, he’d think too much. He’d beat himself up about the weight he’d put on, or that Candace was his buddy’s widow, or that he was black and she was white, which even nowadays could draw some funny looks in Hollow Hills. If the lights were on, he could feel the town watching him, silly as that sounded.
“What’s the holdup?” The mattress creaked as she leaned closer. “You need a map?”
He laughed and climbed onto the bed. Her hands cupped his shoulders before gliding down to his rump. She squeezed each cheek, pulling him toward her sweet, sunny scent.
He reached out, brushing her terry bathrobe. He found the fuzzy belt and unknotted it in a nervous hurry. Her body radiated warmth underneath. The skin lay smooth in some spots, flabby in others—not that he was complaining. Despite her age, her breasts still had a springy quality to them, particularly the left one. His thumb flicked across her nipple and she moaned.
He didn’t realize he was hard until her hand gripped him. She must’ve licked her palm, because it greased along his shaft with slick rhythm. Heat rose to his cheeks as she guided him into her. For a moment his world was Candace and nothing but. Then his mind ran elsewhere, to Mac. To fresh, ugly memories.
Carrying him out to the woods.
Jamming the knife into his lower back.
Watching him bleed.
Fitting him into the garbage bag.
Sealing him away.
Candace’s palm slapped his chest, knocking him back to reality. Time to switch. Her turn on top. He pulled away, leaving her, the only woman who could hold him together. Six years ago she’d gotten him off the bottle and had kept him sober ever since. After this morning, he needed her more than ever.
With a satisfied moan, she climbed onto him, her slippery tightness hugging him. Her thighs, warm and thick, straddled his sides. Karl held his breath as she rocked against him, her weight pressing down comfortably. They worked toward each other’s rhythm, but he couldn’t quite connect. Not with Mac haunting his mind.
Karl finished first. She kept going. And going.
Once she was content, she climbed off, grabbed her robe, and disappeared into the bathroom.
“You were right,” he said, pulling his trousers on. “About the stress relief.”
“When am I ever wrong?” Her voice sounded muted behind the door. “Make sure you don’t forget your undershirt like last time. If Mickey comes up here and sees it, I’ll stroke.”
He frowned. He didn’t understand why they still had to keep everything secret after six years. Her son Mick was a young man now. He’d seen them eat many lunches together. Some dinners, too. Then again, maybe she wanted their relationship kept secret from the Traders. If the group found out, they might accuse her of divulging secrets to Karl. That could cause an uproar.
After he dressed and donned his duty belt, he turned the lights on. The wedding photo he’d bumped earlier hung off-kilter. He lifted it from its hook and flinched when he saw a wall safe. Its green digital display read LOCKED. There was a number pad beneath. He could probably guess the code. More importantly, he could probably find Trader records in there. Maybe something he could use against Werner.
But robbing his lover’s bedroom wasn’t wise. Not when he was stuck in town for life.
“I’m heading out,” he yelled after hanging the photo. “We finished with ten minutes to spare.”
“You need to build that stamina,” she called.
He laughed. Stood there wondering if she might come out for a goodbye kiss. Even a hug.
“Candy, uh—”
“Don’t call me Candy. That junk fattens you.”
“Candace, are we doing anything for Thanksgiving?”
“Isn’t Trent coming in?”
“He is.”
“Then let’s—holy shit!”
He hurried for the bathroom door. “You okay?”