Mutual Possession (Nine Tenths of the Law #1)

19. Spencer

Chapter nineteen

Spencer

Soap operas are weird. I can’t be the only one that thinks so. If I got backstabbed by my friends and family this much, I’d never trust anyone again. Fifty bucks says I turn into the killer because the paranoia would eat me alive and turn me crazy. “Luke is the father of Maisie’s baby. But he’s engaged to Penelope, and Penelope is having an affair with his father, who’s the ex-husband of Maisie’s mum, and her stepfather. Maisie’s stepfather, not Penelope’s, though honestly, if that revelation happened, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

A pause comes from the kitchen area where Kendrick’s making dinner. “What?”

“I need a notebook,” I mutter. I can’t keep up with all the names and the drama. There’s a kind of morbid curiosity sneaking up on me as I watch. Like being unable to look away from a trainwreck. Am I going to tune in tomorrow? I wish I could say no. But I need to know how Penelope reacts to finding out about Luke’s affair. Will she act the victim? Confess her own affair? I need answers.

“The fuck are you watching, Spence?” Kendrick asks, coming closer and leaning against the back of the couch, hovering above me. “Is this the show that Veronica starred in?”

“I wanted to see her.” Moving around, alive, smiling. Not her, not really, just a part she’s playing, but it’s still her enough to get a glimpse. Any insight is insight at this point. Like any creative art, there’s always a piece of the person in everything they do. She may be acting, but parts of her are in there. “We’ve exhausted everything from her day job. I thought maybe someone there was jealous of her ‘fame.’”

“It’s a powerful motivator,” Kendrick agrees. “They aren’t going to show their jealousy on the show, though. They’re acting.”

He says it like I don’t know that. I hadn’t meant to watch it this long, just half an episode, less. A brief look at Veronica in her element. It’s not my fault it’s so addictive.

A hand slides into my hair, and my eyes slip closed as tingles spread across my scalp from the light massage. He leaves a lingering kiss on the top of my head before retreating back into the kitchen to hopefully finish dinner, ’cause I’m starving. He shooed me away when I’d asked if he needed help, so I’d found a way to amuse myself.

There’s an ad on, so I vault over the back of the couch and follow him. “Other than the weird stalker, who we’ve concluded isn’t the killer, no one seems to care about her other job.” Which is weird, though I guess not that unusual. Impressive to have a part on a longtime running Australian soap opera, but she’s no Kylie Minogue, Nicole Kidman, or Chris Hemsworth.

“You think it’s another actor on the show, then?” Kendrick asks, glancing back at me from where he’s standing in front of the oven. There’s a distinct chocolate aroma in the air over the top of the pasta casserole baking in the oven. Is he making dessert too? “What about her family, friends? People outside of her work circles.”

I shrug. “According to her social media, the Venn diagram pretty much overlaps in all places.” A few outliers but nothing that pings my radar. A longtime friend from school she kept in contact with. Parents that live in Perth, and an uncle and a half-sister who both live up in the Northern Territory. Nothing that jumps out at me as suspicious enough to move to the top of the list. They’re things to look into if other lines of enquiry run dry.

He leans back against me when I wrap my arms around him, resting my forehead against the middle of his back. “What are you doing?” I mumble, curling our fingers together.

“Making hot chocolate while we wait for dinner. Jericho dropped some marshmallows off a few hours ago when you were with Greer—he said don’t ask, and honestly, I’m too terrified to. Just hoping they aren’t laced with something. I wouldn’t put it past him to use us as a science experiment.”

I’ll make sure to do a sniff test before drinking. My trust in anyone or anything right now is loose—I’m half tempted to ask if Jericho is carrying my baby. Just in case. Never having slept together, and him being male, means nothing. Nothing . There shouldn’t be secrets between us, and I’d want to know. The problem with most of the people on the show is their lack of communication. A few conversations could clear up a lot of the issues.

I jerk my head up, eyes wide. “I don’t think he knows!”

Kendrick flinches and half twists to look at me. “Who doesn’t know what?”

“Luke. He doesn’t know the baby is his.” That would explain some of his reluctance to leave Penelope for Maisie.

“I think it’s time to turn the TV off.”

Over my dead body. I need answers . Will he deny it when he finds out? Will he finally leave Penelope?

“What are you hoping to accomplish with”—Kendrick gestures his head toward the TV—“that. Besides getting unhealthily obsessed with the lives of fictional characters.”

Damn, it’s back on. “Hold that thought.” The couch slides forward a little when I jump over the back and land cross-legged on the cushions. “I also think that Amy and Lauren are sleeping together. But Amy is engaged to Robert, who thinks she walks on water and can do no wrong. Spoiler alert: she’s trash.”

“Is there anyone honest on the show?”

“I think the store owner, Grant, is pretty okay?” Maybe. At this point I’m squinting suspiciously at everyone. No one is safe from my inquiring gaze. A detective would have a field day if this were real. I should ask Jericho if his guy, Quinn—a homicide detective with the NSWPD—has this kind of drama at work. We work in the shadows, but most of the time that means limited interaction with the population. That means no good juicy drama like this.

“He’s not having an affair with someone too?” Something clatters on the bench, and then so low I almost don’t hear it, Kendrick says, “I can’t believe I just asked that.”

He finally joins me on the couch, handing me a big steaming mug with four pink marshmallows melting on top. They look like regular marshmallows. “Mmm, thanks.” The second he lifts his arm, I’m snuggled against him, pulling a blanket up and over both of us. Curling my knees, I get as close as possible without accidentally spilling our drinks. He absently plays with my hair as we sit, and it’s hard to concentrate on anything else. Not even the fascinating drama of the show is enough to pull me away from how good it feels.

“Should you be wearing your glasses?” Kendrick murmurs.

“No, I’m not reading anything.” They’re on the bedside table, I think. With my book. Well, Kendrick’s book. I commandeered it, so he can’t read ahead of me.

“Why are you really watching the show?”

“I read an article today that says they’re replacing the actress this time, instead of writing the tragedy into the show.” As if it needs more. It’s the unluckiest suburb I’ve ever come across. If it were real, no one would want to live there.

“Makes sense, considering the backlash they faced with the first murder victim when they did that.”

The hot chocolate courses through me, warming me from the inside. I forgot to sniff test the marshmallows, but they taste good. Gooey pink deliciousness. Jericho’d be the first person to get this case if something happens to us, so I doubt he’ll be the nefarious villain in this play. He wouldn’t give himself more work on purpose. Extra, extra work since he has to “solve” a crime he committed without letting anyone know he’s the killer. So many twists and turns, and he has better things to do with his time.

“The woman who’s replacing her looks enough like her to pass it off pretty well.”

“I don’t think ‘reality’ is what they’re going for on this show,” Kendrick says dryly. “Even if she was completely different, people would just go with it.”

I nudge him with my knee and smirk at him. He leans forward and puts his mug on the coffee table and then stretches my legs over his thighs, a hand moving to massage my foot. A moan slips out of me unbidden. Damn, that’s good.

“Careful,” Kendrick says with a chuckle, “you’re gonna spill your drink.”

What drink? “The woman who’s replacing her—”

“The doppelganger?”

An accurate description. Maybe she was the body double. Do they have those for shows like this? “Her name’s Melody Claret. She’s already started filming the new episodes. According to my research, they produce episodes six to eight weeks in advance, so I knew that Veronica would still be on the screen.” Which is where my rabbit-hole adventure started. The transition to a new actress will be interesting to see. A smooth drop from one episode to the next, or will they add some extra drama in there first? Who are the writers? Do they sit around a table, drunk or high, while they decide on the storylines or…?

“When did you find all this out?” Kendrick finds a particular spot on the curve of my foot, and I bite my lip, muscles twitching. Fucking hell, I can die happy right now.

It takes me a second to filter the question through and work out the correct answer. “This afternoon while I was with Greer. He was watching a place and needed a second set of eyes.”

“A second set of eyes looking at his phone?”

“We took turns.” Not that we got anything useful from the place we’d staked out. Whatever missing-persons shit he and Six are working on has been plaguing them for months, and they’re still knee-deep in the shit.

He tips my head up with a thumb under my chin and kisses me softly, with just enough pressure to warm me up better than any hot drink ever could. Our lips cling when he pulls away. “What else did you find?”

“Her father works for the studio. Doing camera work.”

“On that show?”

“And others.” Prolific, in a lot of ways. His name’s attached to a lot of titles. Overcompensating for something, probably. “He’s been there for a long time. Before the first victim started there. Celebrates a decade with them next year.”

“That’s interesting,” Kendrick muses.

Good for the guy but not interesting in terms of the case. “Explains how she got the opportunity. Nepotism and all that.”

“What did he do before that?”

“No idea.” He wasn’t interesting enough to deep dive. “I checked Melody’s social media, and as far as I can see, she and Veronica had a good relationship. Friendly. No skeletons in the closet I can find. I sent Six an email, for him to dig deeper in case I missed anything, but I doubt I did.” Social media can lie, but not where I look for it. The truth is easy to find if you know what to look for, and where to look. And can see through the filters and fake bullshit people put up to make their lives look more magical than they really are.

“Seems like another dead end?”

With a heavy sigh, I slide my empty mug next to Kendrick’s mostly full one. “Yeah.” He welcomes me into his arms, easily taking my weight in his lap. “We’ll keep digging. We’ll find it.” Veronica and Irene’s killer is out there, and we’ll find them; it’s what we do. We can’t officially pin Veronica’s murder on anyone and having an official police investigation into Irene’s murder complicates things, but if we can get him for that, we can still get him locked away for a long time. We have enough police officers and lawyers in our pocket to ensure that the verdict goes the way we want it to, and that the sentence is hefty enough to be satisfying.

Even if Sebastian’s busy, Kelly, the defence lawyer we have in our back pocket in Melbourne, has been making noise about boredom, and I bet he’d be happy to come visit to fuck someone’s day up. Might even do it for free if he’s really that bored.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at three, to visit Reid Fuller in prison. I think it’s worth it to have a chat, see what he has to say for himself.”

The killer in the original murder. Who’s either innocent or has a copycat out there emulating his work. Both ideas leave a lump in my throat that won’t dislodge. I can’t decide what’s worse: an innocent man rotting in jail and the real killer still out there, or someone who admires a killer enough to copy his work. Neither are comforting outcomes.

Kendrick’s curls are getting longer, and they cover his forehead, almost obscuring his eyes. He hasn’t gone in for a cut for a while. I like them this way. Unruly and taking over. Soft when I run my fingers through them. The loops attach themselves to me, twining around like they’re trying to suck me in and become one with me. I’d be alright with that.

Kendrick’s large hands settle on my hips. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that you’re hot.” His stubble caresses the back of my hand as I slide down the warmth of his check, down to the curve of his chin and his throat. “And that I love your curls. I love you .”

He licks his lips, the corner twitching. “Spence, I—”

I kiss him before he can answer. I don’t need to hear the words, as fantastic as they are. I prefer feeling it, prefer when he makes me feel it. Actions taste better. The mix of him and chocolate, with a hint of the marshmallow sweetness, is enough for my entire body to sing.

He tightens his hold and pulls me closer, angling his head so I can get deeper. Until there are no gaps between us, only heat and connection. Not enough for my dick to get hard, or for me to want to do more than this, but enough for me to feel complete. Perfect. Home . It’s everything I need to fulfill me.

He cups my cheek, thumb sliding across my jaw. “You’re missing your show,” he says with a chuckle against my lips.

“Ah, fuck.” Whipping my head around, I can see Luke and Penelope talking, making plans for their future. They’re each as bad as the other, and I can’t decide who to root for. None of them. All of them? Who gets to decide who deserves happiness and who doesn’t? I don’t feel qualified to toss that around.

“Dinner will be ready in about half an hour.” Kendrick kisses me once more and then helps shuffle me sideways on his lap, going back to massaging my feet while I take strength from being in his arms. If we could end every day like this, life would be perfect.