WANTED: A Bad Boy Crime Romance Page 9

  “Uncle Harvey? He could be watching you.”

  Amber waits for Jack to answer. All she hears is a light snoring. She switches off the light and curls up next to Jack.

  “Trust only me, Jack,” she murmurs. “Only me.”

  *

  The next morning, Jack and Amber stand over a still sleeping Detective Simon. Jack shakes his head, thinking of the mess he made. He should’ve kept things clean, simple. This is incredibly messy.

  Amber gives him an exasperated look. “It’s getting late. If he’s too late for work, someone will get suspicious.” She walks over to the couch and nudges Simon’s feet. He jolts awake, then looks around in confusion. Amber waits patiently for his memories to merge with his consciousness. “Coffee?” she asks.

  Simon nods, blinking. Jack shoves a pen and paper in the detective’s hand.

  “Your bank account number. Write it down,” Jack says.

  Simon’s face sours as he remembers his own corruption, but he writes down the number he knows by heart.

  “One and a half million today, the rest when this is all over,” Jack says. “And once the money’s in your account, you can’t tell the police about this. I’m sure this whole deal is illegal for you.”

  “It is,” Simon grumbles, handing over the number.

  “I’ll go call Joel right now. Have him handle everything.” Jack picks up the cell phone and turns towards the bedroom.

  “Are you sure that’s safe?” Amber asks. “It can’t be tracked?”

  Jack chuckles. “You really don’t know anything about this world, do you? The law firm Joel works for, which was founded by Joel’s father, works miracles. They can move money from one place to another without leaving a trace behind.”

  “Okay, go work your billionaire magic,” Amber says. Jack goes into the bedroom and closes the door. A few moments later, they can hear him talking on the phone.

  “You got anything to eat around here?” Simon asks.

  “I’d offer you something, but you don’t have time,” Amber says. “You need to get to work. Come on, I’ll drive you to your car.”

  “I thought I was working for you two now.”

  Amber lowers her voice. “You are, and don’t forget it. Jack and I think it’s best for you to keep up appearances, keep going to work.”

  Simon huffs while slipping on his shoes. “I’m a millionaire now, and I have to keep going to that office. Just my luck.”

  “Not for long,” Amber says. “That’s why we have to work to figure this out. Do you have any idea who called in the anonymous tip.”

  “No. They hung up without saying who they were.”

  “Only a few people know Jack’s back in town, and where he’s staying.”

  “Then I’d start there,” Simon says. “Go down the line, question each of them individually. But Amber, if someone snitched on him, it doesn’t mean they’re the killer.” Simon casts a sidelong glance at the bedroom.

  “Jack’s innocent.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll prove it to you. You’ll see.”

  “Look, I know you want to believe that. I see what you two have going here. Let me guess, you’re having great sex, it’s exciting and dangerous. But the brightest flames burn out the quickest. Just be careful, honey. You seem like a nice girl. Don’t let him corrupt you.”

  “You don’t know anything about me. And you turned out to be pretty easily corrupted.”

  Simon shakes his head. “Here’s the best advice I can give you. If you see me doing something, do the opposite. I have a chronic problem of making terrible decisions.”

  Amber can’t help but give him a genuine smile. “Come on, let’s get your car. You can give me some interrogation tips on the way.”

  *

  Amber is careful when she suggests questioning Henry and Joel to Jack. She understands it’s hard for him to doubt them. They are the only two people he’s ever truly counted on. Jack doesn’t give specific details, but Amber gathers the three have been through a lot together. For some reason, Jack firmly believes that his friends would never turn him in. Jack must have precedent for this kind of trust. Amber suspects something happened in the past involving the three of them, and none of them talked.

  “I need scope, the big picture,” Amber explains, brushing out her wet hair. The mirror is fogged up with steam from her shower. The towel wrapped around her chest falls to floor. She bends to pick it up, but Jack grabs it first. He holds it out of her reach, taunting her, while eyeing her chest. Amber purses her lips, then goes back to untangling her hair. “Did they ever tell you what they were doing that night?”

  Jack is fixated on the towel he holds taut between his fists. He’s twisting it into a tight rope. “They weren’t there that night. They can’t tell you anything.”

  “They weren’t at the club? Are you sure?”

  Jack narrows his brow. “I don’t remember them being there.”

  “Still, maybe they can give us something, anything. Detective Simon says that first you gather all the information you can, then you filter it through analysis. You never know. One small detail could break the case.”

  Amber takes a deep breath, realizing how excited she’s becoming. Her pulse races with the thought of pursuing something worthwhile. She hated her life in White Oak, but it wasn’t because of the town. She has a deep affinity for those quiet streets. It’s her home, the place she knows best.

  The most dreadful thing about her old life was the feeling that she wasn’t accomplishing anything. She wasn’t contributing to the world in any way. But that’s hard to do when you’re scraping by, living paycheck to paycheck, with no hope of ever breaking free.

  Amber stares into the mirror, zoned out, brushing her hair. She snaps back into reality when she feels Jack’s tight grip on her wrist. The brush drops to the floor. He hooks his arm around her waist, and yanks her into him.

  “What would I do without you?” he asks. His voice cuts through the hot steam. “What if I never took you?”

  Amber feels his cock rising against her. She can smell the musky heat rising off of his body. Jack smooths the wet hair away from her face, untangling a knot with his fingers. A pleasant pain tugs at her scalp. Jack bends down and whispers wetly in her ear.

  “You’re nice and clean for me. Good girl.”

  Jack kisses the side of her neck. His lips bond erotically with the dampness of her skin. Amber closes her eyes as her entire body begins to warm. Their attraction to each other is animalistic, and bottomless. She can’t be around Jack for very long without him trying to rip her clothes off. As he lifts her up and sits her on the sink, Amber recalls Detective Simon’s warning. The brightest flames burn out the quickest.

  Amber can’t deny that since she’s met Jack, she's been swept up in a flood of endorphins. Between the sex and the investigation, she’s barely reflected on what exactly she’s gotten herself mixed up in.

  Aiding and abetting a fugitive, she thinks, as Jack’s face disappears between her legs. We’ve bribed a homicide detective for Christ’s sakes.

  Jack’s tongue pulses against her clit. Any feelings of dread or panic are pushed aside by rising ecstasy. She leans back against the mirror, gripping Jack’s hair, and gives in to the pleasure.

  Chapter Ten

  Henry comes over to the apartment one evening. Amber’s never seen such a sharply dressed man. She can only guess at how much his suit cost. It’s made of dark navy, almost black, dyed wool, and fits him perfectly. It’s not the type of thing bought off the rack. It was made especially for him. Though he’s well put together, Amber can smell the liquor on him. That explains why he’s so late. He probably stopped by the bar for a few after leaving the office.

  “I come bearing gifts,” Henry says, after shaking Jack’s hand. He produces another packet of white powder from his pocket, just like the one he’d given him previously. “Sorry I didn’t give it to you sooner. I’m sure the last gram is long gone.”

  Ja
ck holds his hand up. “I’m good, really.”

  Henry shakes his head in disbelief. “You sure, man? All this has got to be stressful. Don’t you need something to take the edge off?”

  Jack taps his forehead. “Keeping a clear head.”

  Henry shrugs, then pockets the drugs. He approaches Amber and kisses her hand. “Amber, always a pleasure.”

  Amber smiles kindly, wondering if Henry would prefer that she was scattered remnants decomposing upstate. “Thanks for coming, Henry. Have a seat.”

  Amber sits at the table, and gestures for him to do the same. Henry pauses, staring at her skeptically. Eventually, he sits, straightening his tie.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Amber says.

  Henry looks to Jack. “What is this?”

  “It’s okay,” Jack says. “She’s trying to help.”

  Henry gives an exasperated sigh. He turns back to Amber, but he doesn’t look her in the eye. His gaze is directed at a point above her head. Detective Simon had advised Amber that during interrogation, she has to believe that she’s in control, and to reflect that through her posture. She sits up straight, her gaze unflinching, and digs in.

  “Where were you the night Jack Larsen Senior was murdered?”

  Henry laughs, like her question isn’t worth his time. Simon had warned Amber that suspects often do this. It’s a power play, a way to dismiss their opponent.

  “You want my alibi?” Henry says.

  “Alibi?” Amber effects a look of shock. “No, that’s not it. I’m just trying to gather as many details as I can.” She twirls her hair, playing up her femininity. Simon had commented that sometimes he wished he was female, so he could use the perceived weakness to his advantage. “Were you at Club 64 that night?”

  Henry narrows his eyes at her. Amber senses that he knows she’s not going to let him off easy.

  “I was there,” Henry says. “Only for an hour or so. I’d fucked every chick in there, so I bounced.”

  “Did you see Jack?”

  “I did. But doubt he remembers. He was already off his ass.” Henry grins at Jack encouragingly. “Unlike me, Jack’s not above fucking underlings, like waitresses and maids.” He raises his eyebrow. “Shit, Amber. No offense.”

  Amber smiles calmly. “None taken. Where did you go after you left the club?”

  “Shit, I don’t know.” He leans back in the chair, sighing. “Probably went home, played World of Warcraft, jerked off and went to sleep.”

  “World of Warcraft is an online game, right?” Amber asks, like she’s asking if it’s raining outside. “There should be a log of your activity that night, internet history at least. Send me a screenshot of that, okay?”

  Henry’s expression turns cold. “A screenshot? Are you trying to verify my alibi? You don’t believe me?” The last question is asked more to Jack than to Amber.

  “How are things at Larsen International?” Amber continues, not missing a beat. “Is your father, Harvey, adjusting to his new role as CEO?”

  Henry answers with a silent glare.

  “It must be a big change of pace for him,” Amber says. “He was the marketing director before his big promotion. Did he always aspire to be CEO?”

  For the first time since he walked in, Henry looks Amber directly in the eyes. His pupils are the same color as Jack’s, so dark they seem to absorb all light around them.

  “What are you suggesting?” Henry turns to Jack for help. “You can’t think that my father… He wouldn’t do that, Jack. Not to you.”

  “I don’t want to believe it,” Jack says. “But we have to look at everyone.”

  Henry leans over the table, both hands clenched into tight fists. “You need to snap the fuck out of it, Jack. I know you have a thing for poor girls, but you’re letting this one twist your head into knots.”

  “Harvey would never be CEO, not with Jack Senior and his son around,” Amber says. “He needed a way to get rid of them both.”

  Henry raises his arms in exasperation. “Father never wanted to be CEO. He only took the job to keep the company from crashing. He insisted they call him interim CEO. Interim…temporary.”

  “Titles can change,” Amber says.

  Henry stares at her, seething. He jolts up to his feet, nearly knocking the table over in the process. “You’re wasting your time with this. There are plenty of people who’d love to kill your father. He had his hand in a lot of shady shit. Not to mention all the husbands of the secretaries he fucked.” He marches to the door.

  Amber stands to go after him. She has more questions to ask. Jack holds her by the arms, stopping her.

  “That’s enough,” Jack says.

  Amber hears the seriousness in his voice. She keeps quiet, letting Henry go. Jack digs into the flesh of her upper arm as the door slams closed. The room is suddenly quiet. Jack breathes heavily. Heat radiates off of his skin, and not from lust. Amber’s seen flashes of his temper before, but they were only flashes. She wonders if she’s pushed him over the edge.

  Jack’s eyes are fixated on the door. His hand remains tight on her arm. He’s motionless and silent. Amber gets the sense that he’s fighting to gain control of himself. He takes deep breaths in, and long breaths out in a steady rhythm. Amber doesn’t move a muscle. She doesn’t want to distract him from getting himself under control.

  Jack’s face is burning red when he turns to her. He raises his upper lips, baring his teeth. Panic crawls up Amber’s back. He pulls her closer to him.

  “Henry’s not a suspect,” he says, slowly. “And neither is Joel.”

  “We need to talk to everyone.” Amber can’t speak louder than a whisper. “Henry’s father-“

  “Is not Henry. If Uncle Harvey’s behind this, Henry doesn’t know about it.”

  “How do you know?”

  Jack’s eyes go dark and cold. He drops Amber’s arm, and paces to the other side of the room. Amber examines the red marks he left on her arm. They’re quickly vanishing into her white flesh. Her instinct tells her to creep quietly into the bedroom, and lock the door behind her. She ignores it.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” she asks. “Why do you trust Henry and Joel so much?”

  “They’ve always been there,” Jack says, facing the wall.

  Amber takes a slow step back. “I get that. But there has to be a reason-“

  Jack turns to her with a pointed look. He puffs out his massive chest, holding his hands in fists. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the world, Amber. And you’re better off not knowing.”

  Amber blinks, nodding. For once, she listens to the common sense voice inside of her head telling her not to poke the beast.

  They don’t make love that night. Jack lies on his side, his back to her, and quickly falls into a deep sleep. Amber tries to close her eyes, relax her muscles, and forget about everything that’s happened, but she can’t get her mind to switch off. She stares up at the ceiling restlessly.

  Jack’s resistant to her methods, but it’s what has to be done. He can’t look at his friends with an objective eye. That’s what she’s here for, to help him find the truth, and be able to recognize it. Amber tries placing herself in his position. What if someone told her Meg and her father were plotting against her, trying to destroy her life? It would be too devastating to believe.

  Amber is plotting how to get to Joel when Jack turns over and throws his arm around her. He strokes his fingers down her stomach, murmuring in his sleep. Amber lies still as he sweeps over her panties. His erection is hard against her thigh. She wraps her fingers around his shaft, and whispers quietly, “Trust only me, Jack.”

  *

  Amber and Jack keep an extremely low profile, but they know it doesn’t behoove them to be shut up in the apartment all day. Jack can’t be out wandering the streets, so that means Amber gets to explore the city on her own sometimes. If anyone ever asks her about her fiancé, she’ll give them the story about him working nights. Amber doesn’t want anyone
to ask her that, so she avoids getting too familiar with people. She goes to three different coffee shops, which she rotates throughout the week, to prevent any baristas from getting too chummy with her.

  It’s easy to stay anonymous in this heavily populated city. She slips through the streets like a ghost, a face no different than any other, something that’s not possible in White Oak. There, everyone knew who she was, plus her ancestors a few generations back. There was no hiding from anyone, or the past.

  Today, Amber tries a new coffee shop that isn’t anywhere near the apartment in Queens. It’s a train ride away in Manhattan, across the street from the Law Offices of Golding, Holderman, and Associates. She sits at a small table, staring at the office building. It’s a wet, dreary day. Rain sheets against the window pane. The sight of it chills Amber to the bone. People on the street are in a grayer mood than usual as they battle with umbrellas and trudge through puddles.

  While waiting for Joel to exit the building, Amber takes a moment to appreciate where she’s at. She’s in the middle of Manhattan enjoying a delicious latte in a trendy coffee shop. It’s the life she’s always dreamed of, but never thought possible. She never considered how she’d get here, and had no idea it would involve getting kidnapped by a fugitive.

  Finally, after two lattes and an exquisite lemon poppyseed muffin, Amber glimpses Joel walk down the front steps of the building. He’s with two other men. They all wear sharp suits and carry briefcases. But even the well-to-do aren’t immune from the weather. The three of them scowl at the sky, then sprint across the street to the coffee shop. Inside, they swat the water from their expensive suit jackets.

  Showtime, Amber thinks. She’s feeling jittery from the caffeine, or maybe it’s nerves. She takes a deep breath, plasters a smile on her face, and goes to the counter where Joel is waiting on his order.

  “Joel, is that you?”

  Joel turns around, his face twisted in confusion. When he sees Amber, his complexion goes ghost white.

  “I thought that was you,” Amber says, beaming. She leans into him, and gives him a light kiss on the cheek.