Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“So what do you think?” I asked. “Are we going to find out who did this? Who killed Jesse?”
“Do you want the truth or the truth-adjacent?”
“Truth.”
Rocky cracked his neck, and a sequence of pops filled the air. “I don’t know. I was able to check out the crime scene, and although there was a lot of blood, it appeared to have all been Jesse’s. The lab needs to send us back the results, but I don’t have my hopes up. I also collected a few strands of hair that appeared to be someone else’s, but a few shed hairs in his bedroom don’t exactly prove someone’s a killer.”
“Hell, they could even be Hazel’s hair.”
“Exactly. But DNA isn’t our only option. There were some things that stood out to me. Jesse most likely knew the killer because there wasn’t a sign of forced entry. The murder weapon was a kitchen knife, Hazel’s kitchen knife if we’re being precise. So it might have been something sudden. A spur-of-the-moment decision, since they didn’t bring the murder weapon with them.”
My stomach felt like it had been replaced by a bucket of ice. I hadn’t known that.
“Shit,” I said, after realizing I’d been holding my breath. “Hazel’s knife?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t make things look any better. But, there’s a catch: the knife’s missing. If we find it, we could find the key.”
“And if we don’t?”
Rocky tilted his head, lifted his hand from the water and splashed. “Then we keep looking for another key. I’ve been a detective for seven years now. I’ve learned that every locked door can be opened one way or another. I’ve still got to dig into Jesse’s past, figure out if there are any motives at play or not. I have interviews lined up and a couple of stakeouts already planned.”
“Already?” I didn’t bother hiding the surprise. “This all happened last night.” And then, when it hit me like a two-ton boulder: “Holy shit, last night. It feels like this happened ten years ago.”
“I didn’t sleep last night,” Rocky said. “I spent it doing some preliminary digging. By the time the sun came up, I already had a list of people I want to look more into.”
“Whoa.”
So maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed?
“Which leads me to this.” Rocky turned his entire body to me. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
“What the… oh, you asshole.” It only took me a couple of seconds to realize Rocky was pulling my leg.
Unfortunately, though, he wasn’t pulling it up over his shoulder.
I splashed him. He returned the favor, sending water straight at my face. I closed my eyes and gasped at the exact wrong moment, swallowing some down the wrong pipe. The coughing fit was immediate.
“Oh shit, sorry, sorry.” Rocky drifted over to my side and put his hand on my back. “You okay?”
I nodded, my eyes watery and my entire body aware that Rocky was now touching me. In my chest, my heart bounced like a drunken Tigger. His hand, large and smooth, felt almost like a burning brand leaving a permanent mark between my shoulder blades. The warmth was nearly overwhelming, as much as the actual touch was.
I wanted to push away, to swim to the other end of the pool, to grab onto the stairs and pull myself out altogether. I didn’t need to be here. This may have all just been a stupid, horny mistake. I hadn’t come here to take a dip in Rocky Hudson’s pool; I had come because a deeply buried part of me had been crying out for exactly this. For a breaking of the walls between us. For a touch, for something more.
And here I was, short-circuiting because his hand was on my back.
And now it was on my shoulder. Wait, why was his hand on my shoulder? And why was I turning toward him? And why the hell couldn’t I see straight—was I about to pass out?
Oh God, he’s looking at my lips. He’s about to kiss me, isn’t he? McSteamy the asshole detective is about to kiss me.
And then another thought careened into the forefront.
I’m actually about to have my first kiss holy fuck.
14
Rocky Hudson
There was a magnetic pull as strong as the ones on either pole. It was the only way I could describe the constant tug I felt toward Sam. An invisible rope tying us together, one I’d never felt before. And I’d felt plenty of rope before.
This was different than anything I’d experienced in years.
I knew I had to act on it. I would hate myself if I didn’t. Blame it on the sleep deprivation, or the out-of-control hormones, but all I could think about was getting my lips on Sam’s. When I touched his back was when the dam had broken. Snapped completely in half. He didn’t say much, so I grabbed his shoulder, gently turning him, my arm now wrapping around his neck. He looked up at me with those permanently sultry brown eyes, long lashes batting up and down with every blink.