Second Chance (Hudson Valley Murder Mysteries #2)

Chapter Sixteen #3

“And the knife?” Tony prompts.

“I found it under my bed afterward. I knew I hadn’t touched it, so I thought maybe if someone else handed it in to the police Sean wouldn’t think I…I don’t know. I was high most of the time. It wasn’t really a plan. I just hoped Professor Rosenbaum would try to help me. I didn’t mean for him to get hurt too.” Her eyes track over to Daniel for an instant, but she looks away immediately, ashamed.

She should be.

“Tell us what happened on Thursday.” Taylor studies Lily, expression impassive. “Why did you bring the gun to Professor Rosenbaum’s office?”

“I, um, I didn’t get why nothing happened after I gave him the knife and why our rooms were being searched. I was scared about the drugs getting found, and Sean was getting angry he couldn’t find the knife anywhere. He put all his weapons in my room, and I thought he might… I was scared. Of him, I guess. So, I brought the gun as, like, proof. But then…”

“He followed you to my office, didn’t he?” Daniel smiles at her. How he isn’t nervous or angry to be around her, now she’s clear of mind and knows what she did, is a mystery to Tony.

“Yeah.” Lily looks up at him again and then over to the detective. “He was—he was standing outside the door. I could see him. When Professor Rosenbaum asked if I knew who’d done it… Sean was right there, and I thought if I said anything, he would hurt me or the professor. I thought it was too late to call the police, with Sean watching. So I made Professor Rosenbaum come with me, and Sean did the rest.”

“The rest…” Taylor says.

“He picked the Continuum,” Daniel remembers. “He drove us there and got rid of my phone. My guess is he didn’t have any long-term plan beyond keeping us there.”

The detective writes something down on her pad and then turns back to Lily expectantly.

Lily examines the bedsheets again.

“Lily,” Daniel tries again. “Why would you go along with everything he said? After Professor Lawrence? Why not call the police yourself?”

She shakes her head.

“You said you were scared. Was he threatening you with something? Was he going to hurt you?”

Caught, Lily glances between him and the detective. “I…no.” She taps out a quick rhythm on the sheet with her finger now, anxious and offbeat.

“You’re lying.” Tony can’t put his finger on how he knows, but he does. Her confusion made sense in the dingy bathroom of the movie theater when she was high and crying and confused. Now, though? Now, he doesn’t buy it.

Lily doesn’t have any problem meeting his eyes. That’s all right; she probably doesn’t understand what she did to him when she kidnapped Daniel.

“It’s not a hard question,” Tony insists. “What was he threatening you with?”

“I was scared—”

“Not what I asked.”

“Tony.” Daniel’s voice is sharp.

Tony ignores him. “Don’t protect him. Remember what Gianna said. Mario wasn’t worth ruining your life over. Neither is Sean.”

“But he—when I—the car— I owe him.”

There it is. “A car crash is not the same thing as a murder.”

“He said—the insurance— There’s no way I can pay for it, and my parents can’t either, not after all my hospital bills and tuition. Sean’s going to tell everyone I was the one who killed her anyway, and who would believe me? I was too high to drive for, like, two weeks. I can’t even remember everything that happened. Who knows what I could have done?”

Tony remembers Lily sitting in the reception area of the garage, shooting videos of her dumb boyfriend about the crash, miserable and pretending she wasn’t for his benefit. Tony takes a breath and lets the anger go. “I’m not saying you made good decisions, but you’re not a murderer, and we believe you. We can clear it up with the insurance. I can help you.”

“I crashed . I shouldn’t have been driving. I—”

“It’s his car and his insurance. If you’re not covered, he shouldn’t have let you drive.”

“But he was so high .”

“So, none of you should have been driving.” Tony gets it out through gritted teeth. “Still not your fault. And definitely not a reason to take the fall for him about Professor Lawrence.”

“You really think so?”

Tony wants to laugh. All this over goddamn car insurance. If she’d told Gianna, there never would have been a reason to kidnap Daniel in the first place. Gianna might not have been at the garage much lately, but she knows her insurance loopholes. “Yeah, Lily. You did the right thing, getting us the knife. We believe you, and I think detective Taylor here believes you, too, no matter what Sean says.”

Daniel looks between them, bemused. “How did you know about that?”

“Because Sean is a miserable shitstain, and he told me it was her who crashed.”

Lily sobs once, and Tony feels a little bad, but not bad enough to stop talking.

“His idea of taking the fall for someone is pretty one-sided.”

Detective Taylor has them walk through the entire car crash incident, first Tony and then Lily. Lily tells them there was no deer, that she hadn’t been able to concentrate, that she got too far to the middle of the road, swerved away, and hit the guardrail. After his angry outburst resulting in a slaughtered front tire, Sean came up with the lie while they waited for the tow truck, and Lily was so relieved she went with it.

With the car off her conscience, she explains fully what happened with Amelia Lawrence.

“He said no one would believe me.” Her hands clench when she says it. “He said everyone knew I was nuts and unstable, and he could use the crash to convince them. He came with me to Professor Lawrence’s office, said he would support me or whatever. Only, he took a bunch of pills before, and when I started crying, he got so angry at me. Professor Lawrence tried to—well, she got in his face, and then he—you know.”

Lily looks up at Daniel. “I don’t remember most of it. I wasn’t lying. The molly made everything feel weird. And I…I couldn’t watch, and I couldn’t stop him. Professor Rosenbaum, I’m so sorry . You were the one person I could think of who I could trust. When nothing happened after I gave you the knife, I had to see you…and then Sean followed me to you, too, and I didn’t know what to do —”

She breaks off, tears running down her cheeks.

Daniel pats her hand awkwardly. “I don’t blame you. I want you to get healthy, okay?”

There are plenty of things she could have done differently. She could have not brought a gun to Daniel’s office. She could have explained about the knife instead of taping it to the door like a serial killer. She could have decided not to threaten Daniel. She could have told him Sean was waiting outside the office door. She could have told her therapist about the drug use; she could have reported Sean’s dealing to the police.

None of them can turn back time and undo what she did. At least this way, Daniel did everything for her he could. Even if Tony thinks it was the wrong call; even if he thinks Lily is to blame for at least some of it, Daniel will be relieved.

Taylor assures them all that Sean is in custody, and he’ll be charged at the very least for illegal possession of weapons and drugs and for what happened in the restaurant. So long as Daniel doesn’t press charges against her for abetting the kidnapping, Lily will be free to recuperate until she’s needed as a witness. Later, after they leave Lily’s room, Taylor adds that it probably won’t be difficult to charge Sean for Amelia Lawrence’s murder, forensically, as the stab wounds don’t match Lily’s height or weight.

Part of Tony can’t believe it’s over as they walk out of the hospital into the blanket of cold night air. Not after he thought everything was done once and turned out to be wrong. He sucks in awful, deep breaths, too done with everything to say anything about what they’ve just learned.

Daniel pulls him tight in a hug. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for… I know how rough this has been on you. I’m so glad you’re with me.”

Tony buries his nose in Daniel’s neck and clings to him.

And then, Tony lets Daniel take him home.

They knock on Colette’s door on the way up.

Meredith answers, shooting a wary look back into the room where Colette is sitting on the couch, crumpled up and small. “Is everything all right?”

“Definite all right.”

“Daniel.”

Daniel sighs. “It was probably Sean who did it. The murder, I mean. We’ll find out in the next couple of days. He was trying to make Lily confess to cover it up.”

Meredith nods sharply.

“Is she…” Tony tries, glancing at Colette.

“I can hear everything you’re saying,” Colette answers, sharp and clear.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Do you want—”

“Daniel, you’re my best friend, but right now, I’m trying to process that I was once again wrong about who was trustworthy and who was not. You being here and being right about what it means to be an advisor or being responsible for our students…it’s not helping.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think I was right.”

Tony almost whoops with relief.

“I don’t think either of us could have stopped this by giving more,” Daniel adds.

Colette tries to smile. “That’s good to hear. I still don’t feel okay about anything that has happened these last few days.”

“Yeah. I understand. I’m upstairs if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Meredith looks between them shrewdly. “Hey,” she says to Daniel. “I think I’ll stay down here tonight, yeah? All my stuff is still here.”

He nods and doesn’t say thank you, to spare Colette’s feelings, but Tony can tell he’s thinking it before Meredith closes the door, and they head upstairs.

Neither of them is tired anymore, jittery and hopped up on adrenaline, not to mention they slept all day. They crowd into the shower together instead, unwilling to part for more than a minute.

Tony lets Daniel pull out his hair tie and leans against Daniel’s shoulder as Daniel lathers shampoo into his hair.

“Feels good,” Tony mutters. It’s an understatement. He feels as if he’s been carrying half the world on his back for the last few days, aching and worn through in body and mind. Daniel’s hands in his hair draw the tension out one strand at a time.

Daniel presses soft kisses to Tony’s shoulders and the side of his neck before tilting his head under the spray and carefully carding his hands through Tony’s hair to rinse it out.

He repeats the process with the conditioner and then moves on to bodywash, choosing Tony’s, and Tony misses the generic, store-brand scent of Daniel’s. But he has Daniel right here in front of him, caressing down Tony’s arms and across his chest with soapy hands.

Daniel kneels in front of Tony, the water darkening his hair and plastering it to his forehead, and caresses along one leg and then the other before reaching between Tony’s legs and stroking his cock and balls, covering them in suds.

“Turn around?” Daniel asks, voice quiet against the thunder of the water.

Tony does it immediately.

Daniel’s hands are just as soft on his ass, massaging the cheeks and then reaching between them to spread soap across the crack, across Tony’s hole.

With a strange, punched-out ache, Tony becomes aware that he’s letting Daniel service him, and it leaves him feeling cherished and guilty all at once. “You don’t have to—”

Wet lips press against his left ass cheek. “Trust me. This is not a hardship.”

“Okay.”

Tony lets himself be moved under the spray again, lets Daniel follow the path of the water as if his hands are as important in ridding Tony’s body of the last traces of soap as the shower is. Daniel continues to stroke across Tony’s ass and cock, long past the point where any soap might still be on his skin.

“Can I take care of you tonight?” Daniel asks, low and right into Tony’s ear, making him shudder.

“You were kidnapped,” he protests weakly. “I should—”

“I was fine. You were here, alone, and you came to get me out. You almost—he almost shot you. Please, Tony, I need to feel you under my hands and make you feel good, okay?”

“Okay.” If he’s being honest, Tony couldn’t return the favor tonight anyway, loose and hazy as he is on an adrenaline crash that’s been two days in the making. Two weeks in the making. All year in the making. “I love you.”

Daniel’s mouth on his neck is warmer than the water, and Tony shivers under his touch. “I love you too.”

He wants to protest Daniel toweling him off. He’s not helpless or a child. But it feels so good to stand there and let Daniel do what he wants, let Daniel make the decisions. Tony can worry about it in the morning. Get Daniel back by fucking him over the arm of the couch or up against the kitchen counter.

Right now, Daniel leads him into the bedroom and lays him down on freshly made sheets. He sets a towel next to them and rummages in the nightstand.

He pulls out the cuffs, the fake leather ones that release as easily as the ones Daniel was wearing when Tony found him—Christ, was it only this morning? Last night?—but feel sumptuous and indulgent by contrast.

“Can I?” Daniel asks.

Tony nods.

“I’m gonna need words, honey.”

“You can tie me up, Daniel.” Tony stares up at him. “You can do whatever you want to me. Pretty sure I’d let you ruin me.”

Daniel drops the cuffs on the pillow beside Tony’s head and kisses him savagely as if he’s trying to crawl inside Tony’s skin. He grasps Tony’s wrists in one hand and presses them into the pillow above his head. Their bodies slide together, damp and solid and real. Tony arches up into Daniel’s touch, cock hardening against Daniel’s hip.

“Keep them up there, just like that,” Daniel says, his fingers light on Tony’s wrists, a contrast to the heavy cuffs when he gets them situated. Their weight around Tony’s hands keeps him grounded to the bed beneath him. “Sometime, I’m gonna tie you to the headboard with these, make you scream.”

“Not tonight?” Tony asks, coasting pleasantly on the idea that Daniel wants to do this so badly he’s already thinking about next time.

“Tonight, I’m gonna spoil you.” Daniel kisses Tony again, first on the lips and then on each cheek, followed by the line of his jaw through the scratch of Tony’s beard. He moves to the sensitive parts of his neck, usually hidden by the beard, and the thin skin at his collarbones.

Tony squirms under him, always so sensitive to Daniel’s mouth there. He wonders, for a moment, how it would be if Daniel didn’t shave, if he still had a little rasp of stubble on his cheeks, and shudders at the thought.

Daniel’s teeth press into his shoulder once, briefly, and then his hands join in, stroking Tony’s sides and across his pecs.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Daniel says, hushed and reverent.

Tony flushes and looks away.

“I know it’s not the word you’d choose, but you are. I’m so glad you let me have you like this.”

“You’re the only one who gets to have me like this,” Tony tells him, as close as he can get to articulating the complicated knot of feelings he has about loving Daniel, being in love with Daniel. There will be time in the morning.

Daniel kisses his breastbone, right on the center. “I’m the luckiest man alive, then.”

Daniel’s lucky for many reasons, not least of which have to do with escaping two murderers unscathed. But Tony thinks he’d give Daniel a run for his money on luck when Daniel sinks further to settle between Tony’s legs.

He keeps the pressure of his mouth soft, licking up and down Tony’s cock with little flicks of his tongue, rolling Tony’s balls in his palm as he does it. He runs his tongue around the tip in slow, filthy circles until Tony throbs against it.

When Tony can’t seem to keep his hips still on the bed anymore, Daniel takes the whole head into his mouth. Tony watches from above as his jaw stretches obscenely wide around it. Daniel’s eyes, when they meet Tony’s, are dark and wanting.

Tony would give him anything he asked for.

Daniel’s hands spread Tony’s thighs wide, fingertips running across his inner thighs, the space behind his balls, his hole. Tony wonders idly if Daniel will fuck him tonight, if that’s where this is going, when Daniel suddenly swallows around him, half of Tony’s shaft in Daniel’s mouth.

A breathless cry makes its way out of Tony’s throat. He’s sweating against the urge to move his hips and fuck up into the warm heat of Daniel’s mouth.

“You feel so good,” he says, slurred with pleasure.

Daniel pulls off his cock. “Thanks.” His voice is rough and used.

He goes back to kissing and licking the head and nothing more, and Tony whines.

He’s leaking, thick drops of precome catching in his pubic hair, by the time Daniel takes his cock into his mouth again. Daniel doesn’t seem to mind, moaning at the taste.

Still, he doesn’t speed up. It feels indulgent, how slow Daniel goes, pulling off to run his lips and tongue across the shaft whenever Tony gets too into it, too desperate. With his hands tied above his head, Tony can do nothing but accept the glacial pace, his cock thick and heavy with blood, and his brain sluggish with pleasure.

He could use the quick release on the cuffs, grab Daniel by the shoulders, and pull him up so they can rut together until they both come. Instead, he lets himself float, lets himself beg for more.

“Please,” he says between gasping, heaving breaths each time Daniel pulls off. “Please, more, please. I need it.”

“I know what you need,” Daniel murmurs, soft and almost condescending if it weren’t so fond. He kisses Tony’s hipbone and props himself up on his forearms. “Turn onto your side for me.”

Tony obeys thoughtlessly.

Daniel reaches for the nightstand again. “Shit. Stay right there, honey, I’ll be back.”

As if Tony could move right now. His cock pulses against his belly, wet with cooling spit and his own precome. His toes curl against the comforter.

It only takes a minute, and then Daniel returns, holding up the pump bottle of lube. “Told you we were gonna regret keeping this in the living room.” He kisses Tony’s neck as he slots in behind him on the bed. “Lift your hips up.”

Tony does as he’s told, and the towel Daniel brought along is shoved under him.

“Spread your legs,” Daniel whispers, and when Tony does, his cool, wet fingers reach between Tony’s legs to cover the space there with lube.

Daniel’s cock, fully hard for all it’s been ignored so far, slots between Tony’s thighs, and Tony clenches around it on instinct.

Behind him, Daniel groans. “That’s so good.”

Pride bursts hot in Tony’s gut, a stupid, senseless reaction, but there it is.

Daniel moves his hips, slow and easy. The head of his cock bumps into the base of Tony’s, and Tony whimpers a little.

“You want it?” Daniel’s breath, hot on the juncture of Tony’s neck and shoulder, sends goosebumps across his skin.

“Yeah,” Tony gasps, “please.”

Daniel’s lube-slick hand snakes down to grasp Tony’s aching cock and strokes it in time to the movements of his hips. Tony groans, head thrown back on Daniel’s shoulder. He’s wrapped up tight in Daniel’s arms, their bodies pressed so close there’s no space between them. Daniel’s cock lies thick between his thighs, Daniel’s hand firm around his cock.

Pleasure slides through Tony like a knife, cutting him apart before he knows it will happen. He gasps when it starts and moans low in his throat as it ends, thick ropes of come shooting across Daniel’s hand and his own stomach. His thighs clench around Daniel’s cock involuntarily.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, Tony—” The words end on a strangled gasp as more wet heat spreads between Tony’s legs, Daniel’s come filling the scant space between them.

After, the crash Tony half expected as soon as they returned home hits him full force. Daniel wipes him off with the towel before pulling the comforter over both of them.

Tony rolls toward him so he can wrap Daniel in his arms, utterly convinced he won’t sleep unless he knows Daniel is safe in his grasp. Daniel lets himself be hugged close and tight, arranging them until it’s comfortable enough to sleep.

“I’ll see you in the morning, honey,” Daniel says with a quick kiss.

“Mm,” Tony mumbles. “’Cause I live here now.”

He drifts off to the sound of Daniel’s soft, pleased laugh.