Chapter Fourteen #2
“I’m sorry,” Carter said. “There are no leads. And at this point, I can’t see us finding one.
The first forty-eight hours on a missing person case are the most critical.
If we don’t find them within that window of time, or get a solid idea of who might be involved, the chances of solving the case diminish. ”
Drea’s shoulders slumped. Cujo reached for her hand.
“I can’t believe she just disappeared into thin air like that. Or that nobody cares enough about her to report her missing.”
“What about the lawyer guy. Do you have any further idea what happened to him?” Cujo asked.
“Walter Tobias is a senior partner at Tobias, Jesper and Wu. He was an environmental lawyer and frequently undertook pro-bono cases for communities impacted by big companies. We spoke to Mr. Wu, and he confirmed Walter Tobias was currently involved in a large malpractice case against a different energy company. Also mentioned Mr. Tobias was considering a review of the Cleffan operation mentioned in the files.”
“Was he killed?” Drea asked.
“Yes. His brakes were tampered with.” Carter didn’t elaborate.
“Do you know who did it?” Cujo asked. He felt sorry for L.A., but the woman sitting next to him meant more. All he really cared about was finding the people who might try to hurt her.
“Not yet. But a neighbor saw someone on their street that evening, was able to give a great description to our artists.” Carter pulled the sketch out of his folder.
Cujo held his breath, expecting to see Snake staring back at them.
Drea gasped. “Rondo Hatton,” she whispered.
“You know the guy?” Cujo asked.
“No, Gilliam said Mike MacArthur told him he was being followed by a guy who looked like Rondo Hatton. He was an actor in the thirties and forties. He had some disease with a really long name I can’t remember.
But it makes the head look like that. Big nose, lumps under the skin, and a pronounced forehead. ”
“Okay. Back up,” Carter directed. “Confidentially, I spoke to the RCMP in Alberta. They’ve confirmed MacArthur was run off the road, and there were signs of a struggle, but no official witnesses.”
“This was a call between MacArthur and Gilliam Gillespie. Mike described a person he thought was following him. Gilliam said he told the police that.”
Carter mumbled under his breath about someone not doing their job.
Connections were a good thing, right? Cujo hoped to hell all the dots lined up quickly and no one else was killed. Especially not the smart, sexy woman to his left who seemed to be figuring most of this out on her own.
“Did you follow up on any of the other files? Were the RCMP able to help figure out if the governor was behind the shell company that invested in Cleffan?” Drea put the sketch down on the table.
“That part of the investigation is with another division.”
Carter didn’t elaborate, but Cujo could feel his frustration.
“I did get a look at Walter’s laptop before the case was handed over,” Carter added.
“Handed over to who?”
“The Feds. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“And?” Cujo asked.
“His diary showed an eight o’clock appointment, with L.A.”
Cujo sucked in a breath. Okay. So now Walter was connected to Mike through the Rondo guy. And L.A. was definitely connected to Walter through the appointment booking.
He reached for Drea’s hand and squeezed it tight. The sooner everything was nailed down, the safer Drea would be.
It just couldn’t come a moment too soon.
* * *
Was there a better sight than a naked, sexy-assed woman in your bed?
Cujo loosened the towel from his waist and rubbed his hair dry. She’d snuck into his bed around four after finishing at the hotel. He’d snuck out to the gym and managed to return before she’d woken. He normally enjoyed opening the studio on a Saturday, but right now he hated it.
There was something very seductive about the way the white sheets tangled around her tanned legs. Yeah, she even turned him on when she was asleep.
He walked toward the closet to get some jeans and stubbed his toe on the end of the bed. “Fuck,” he cursed, grabbing his foot.
The sheets rustled, followed by a soft groan. Drea stretched and opened one eye. “You okay, babe?”
“Morning, Shortcake,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Sorry I woke you.”
He crawled onto the bed. His lips brushed hers, but she pulled away and covered her mouth.
“Morning breath,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
He snaked his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her. “Don’t care.”
His fingers danced above the elastic of her boy shorts. If only she knew what they did to him.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, always concerned about her.
“Pretty good,” she mumbled.
Drea yawned and stretched. Her hands brushed her nipples, now tight buds under her cami top. Tease.
“Watch it, Shortcake. I made breakfast, no kale in the smoothie today as a treat. And I picked up some of those pastelitos you like.”
“Cream cheese?”
“Yup. Guava and pineapple, too.”
“Mmm.” She didn’t take her eyes off his cock.
He couldn’t be held responsible for his actions if she kept acting that way. He was very hard. And a fucking gentleman. Drea needed more rest.
He pulled back slightly. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry.” She smiled.
“Well, let’s go get some food.”
He offered his hand to help her out of bed, but instead, she pulled him toward her.
“Brody,” she murmured, guiding his hand down her shorts.
He didn’t need to be told twice.
So wet and ready for him. “Different kind of hungry?”
She nodded.
He removed her top, and she arched into him as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
She squirmed beneath him and tugged at his hair as he nipped along between her breasts.
No matter how many times they came together, it was never enough.
Everything about her called to him. The way her skin tasted.
The way she moaned when he gently bit her hipbone.
The way she opened for him, as desperate as he to come together.
He was losing himself to her and he didn’t fucking care who knew it.
He positioned himself between her legs, moving farther down the bed. Beautifully exposed to him, he parted her lips and licked delicately, dying to hear her call his name. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he rumbled.
Then he stroked and licked her at the same time.
She shivered, gasping and scratching at his arms. He never realized how close to heaven he could actually get, not until Drea came along.
Not until he got his first taste of her.
He circled her clit, sliding a finger inside her, knowing with each thrust he’d bring her closer and closer to orgasm.
Fuck. The way she pulsed around his tongue. He thrust his finger, and she arched up from the bed.
She grabbed his hair, and he chuckled as she ground against him. He loved it when she threw her inhibitions aside and just went for what she wanted.
“Brody,” she screamed. Best. Sound. In. The. World.
Drea lay shattered, gasping for breath. Her mussed hair spread around the pillow.
Cujo moved to lean against the headboard. His cock throbbed painfully.
“I never understood the whole wanting-somebody-so-much-it-hurts thing,” he said, his breath catching on the last word. “But Drea, baby, I’m hurting.”
He reached for the condom drawer, but she stopped him.
“Let me…” She bent over him. Her breath was hot as she licked the tip of his cock, her tongue swirling around the head.
Everything in the room narrowed to that one point of connection. Why had he avoided this since the surgery?
“Fuck, Drea.” He was lost in the perfection of her mouth working him over.
Licking down his shaft, she reached for his balls. If he flinched, it was only natural, right? She kissed each one, licked them and sucked on them, and he bit back a gasp.
He couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer. He grabbed her hair.
“You’re perfect, Brody,” she said, hazel eyes focused on him. Her lips parted as she took him into her mouth, over and over, soft and wet. She fisted a palm around the base of his cock. The sight was his undoing.
His heart tipped.
She sucked harder, slid her fist along his length.
“Drea … please…”
His hand tightened in her hair as she increased the pace. Could she feel him pulsing as she pumped him?
“You need to—” he gasped, tugging gently to move her away. She’d turned him on to the point where he had no cohesive thoughts left.
“Ah, fuck!” He came hard and he watched her swallow everything he had to give her.
Drea licked him clean. He pulled her against his chest, loving the way she snuggled there.
His heart raced furiously. “You want to hear something crazy?”
“What?” She kissed the spot above his heart.
“That’s the first time I ever … well, you know.”
“How can any of that be your first anything?”
Cujo reached for the blanket and cocooned them both in the soft white bedding. “Surgery, chemo … it all sucked. But as I started to feel better, I couldn’t”—he put the arm that wasn’t around her over his eyes—“I couldn’t perform.” He sighed, rolled onto his side to face her.
“I couldn’t get an erection at eighteen and it looked weird down there.”
She ran her fingers over his stubbled chin.
“I wondered if I’d ever be able to have sex again, which any doctor will tell you is normal, but still I worried.” He shook his head.
“You’ve made up for it.” She giggled.
“That’s the point. Once it started to function again, I was so fucking relieved, I needed to prove to myself I wasn’t broken. I made up for lost time. But it never felt like it does with you.”
He threaded his fingers with hers, then kissed each of her fingertips.
“I had reconstructive surgery. But I never … well, I never wanted girls to … man. This sucks.” Seriously, fucking shoot me now.
Drea ran her fingers down the long scar below his sternum. “How did you explain this?”
“Said it was from a rock climbing accident.”
“Do you actually rock climb?”
“Yeah, I actually do.” He tucked her into his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around her. “I’ve never told anyone about the cancer. Total mood killer.” They sat silently for a while. “You were amazing by the way,” he said finally.
“You just admitted you haven’t got anything to compare it to.”
“I don’t need anything to compare it to.”
Hard again, he guided her hand between his legs so she’d understand how perfect she was. “Believe me now?” he asked, flipping her on her back. “Your turn, Shortcake.”