Chapter 5 Gwen
He left me.
Cin just got up and left right after he stuck his nose between my thighs and nuzzled me like I was his favorite new toy.
No. Fair.
I groaned as I flopped back against the mattress.
Annoyed with Cin, but more with myself, I rolled over and slipped from my bed.
He teased me like that on purpose and I let him.
Now I was just flustered. Walking into my living room, I flicked on the light and reached for the remote.
I needed a distraction from the memory of his tongue and heated breath on my skin.
From the way his skilled fingers seemed to know exactly how to touch and play with me. God, he had a sinful mouth.
Not a damn thing on any of the apps I usually watched held my interest. I squirmed on the couch, trying not to think about Cin’s head dipping between my legs. Or how he kissed, licked, and sucked on my skin like he wanted to devour me. In the best way.
How could I long for someone I barely knew? Why did his presence feel like a sin and heaven at the same time?
It really didn’t make sense.
I’d gone too long without a boyfriend or sex.
No guy had interested me in the way that Cin did.
I never met anyone with such charisma. No, not quite that as much as magnetism.
Wild, animalistic, almost feral. He pushed the edge of my boundaries and made me want things I hadn’t thought about in a long while.
Relationships were a bust for me. I wasn’t the type of girl who seemed to find her forever in someone. Or even a few years. My longest relationship? Months.
Maybe it was my independence. Or my need to be in control. My old therapist would have a lot to say about that. It could also be how things ended with Max after he hit me. I never gave him a chance to do it again. He was in prison where he belonged.
But my attraction to Cin? It was weird and a bit disconcerting because I didn’t know the guy. We just met. What was the insatiable pull I felt toward him? The irresistible desire to get as close as possible?
With a sigh, I rose to my feet, pulled on a pair of sweats, and walked into the kitchen.
Filling my electric tea kettle with water, I added a couple of bags of Earl Grey, tapping the button to start it.
In only minutes, I had a full pot of hot tea that I could keep warm with just a tap of my finger.
For a tea girly like me, it was fantastic.
Right after I finished pouring the hot liquid into a mug, I heard a knock on my apartment door. Only one person ever bothered me in the middle of the night. Well, before Cin.
I didn’t hesitate to walk to the door, peek to confirm my brother’s presence, and then open it. “Hey.”
“You’re up late.” Ethan entered as I backed up, shutting the door and locking it.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Becka?” He asked as he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over a chair.
“No. Just restless.” And a bit unfulfilled. Not that I would share my sexual frustration with my brother.
“Same. The gym helped, but not as much as I wanted.”
“Tea?”
He shook his head.
“Coffee? I only stock my Keurig for you, ya know.”
His lips curled into a smile that felt genuine. The first I’d seen since we heard about Becka’s death. Correction: her murder. “Vanilla?”
“You got it.” I popped his favorite flavor into the machine and started it. While I waited, I squeezed a bit of honey into my tea and stirred it, taking a sip. Perfect.
Once his cup was ready, I handed him the mug and pointed to the fridge.
Ethan snickered. “Yeah, I know where the creamer is.” He didn’t hesitate to fix his coffee just the way he liked it, but he also remembered to put his spoon in the sink after he rinsed it off.
We settled on my couch with our drinks. Ethan sat on the opposite end, facing me as I lifted my feet and got comfortable. I tugged my crocheted blanket over my body and leaned back against the cushion.
“I’ve been thinking,” he announced after a minute of quiet.
“That’s dangerous,” I teased.
“Funny.” He kept eye contact and didn’t laugh, which meant he was serious.
“Tell me.”
“Becks was murdered.”
I knew that part. “I’m guessing you have more to say.”
“I do. Why, G? Who wanted her dead? Does it have anything to do with Marshall?”
Marshall. The friend she met for lunch the day she died. “I’m sure the police are investigating that as a possibility.”
“Maybe, but we don’t know that because they haven’t told us shit.” His jaw clenched in anger.
“It’s only been a few days,” I pointed out.
“Long enough to give us an update.”
“You’re right.” I took another sip of tea as he continued.
“Calling gets us nowhere. They placate us because they can. We’re not there to stay in their face and demand answers.”
I set my mug down, giving Ethan my full attention. “Is that what you want to do? Storm into the police station and scream until they tell us what we want to know?”
“I don’t scream. You can, though. It’s terrifying.”
The words were as close to a joke as he could get right now. I knew my brother was frustrated. I was, too. “Not everyone can be a scream queen. It’s a skill.”
He just shook his head. “We need to go, G.”
We did. “Okay, then you sleep on my couch, and we go after breakfast.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, if you can manage to get any rest after all that caffeine.”
Ethan drained the cup in front of me and placed it on the coffee table. “Done. Wake me at eight.”
“I get the shower first,” I announced, knowing he wouldn’t mind.
“Yeah, yeah. Go to bed, G. We’ve got hell to raise tomorrow.”
AFTER A QUICK brEAKFAST, I locked up my apartment and left with Ethan. We took my truck since I wasn’t riding his bike in the rain. It was coming down in thick sheets as I turned my wiper blades to the highest setting, leaning forward to see through the streaks on my windshield.
“Pull over.”
“What?” I chanced a glance at my brother.
His arms folded across his chest as he shook his head. “You’re driving like a scared old lady. Let me take over.”
Insulted, I huffed. “No. I’m fine.”
“We’re driving ten miles under the speed limit, G.”
Someone drove by us and honked, flipping me off.
Shit.
“See?”
With a sigh, I turned on my blinker and parked long enough to switch places with Ethan.
He smirked as he climbed behind the wheel and drove toward the police station.
“I’m insulted.” I really wasn’t, though. Just a bit stressed. Oh, and grieving a dead sister.
“No, you’re not. Thank fuck.” His hand stretched out and squeezed mine. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
I nodded, trusting Ethan. He never went back on a promise to Becka or me. The rain didn’t let up. He found a spot and parked as close as possible so I wouldn’t get soaked. I really did have the best brother.
As we approached the front entrance of the police station, Ethan cracked his neck and knuckles. “No bullshit, G. We don’t let them give us fake promises and vague answers.”
He wasn’t kidding about the raising hell part.
I placed my hand on his arm. “Hey. Look at me.”
My brother’s intense gaze shifted my way. “Gwen.”
“Remember that old saying Mom used to quote us? You catch more flies with honey, Ethan.”
“I remember,” he grumbled.
“Gentle persuasion is always better than harsh, rude attacks.”
That earned me an eye roll.
“At least let me try the sweet approach first.”
“Fine.” He opened the door as we reached it. “After you, fly catcher.”
Ethan stood by my side, looking menacing as we approached a reception area with chairs and a big desk. Two officers stood behind it. One of them, an older woman who I’d put close to my mother’s age, greeted us.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“Hi,” I replied with a bright smile. “We’re looking for the officer or detective in charge of our case.”
“I see. What’s the nature of the case?” I spotted her name, Officer Hannigan, listed on her name tag.
“Murder,” Ethan growled.
I sent him a look. “Our sister, Sergeant Becka Carmichael.”
Officer Hannigan nodded. We waited while she typed in the information. “Looks like Detective Mike Castor is handling the case. Would you like me to see if he’s available?”
“Please. We’d appreciate it.”
She picked up the phone in front of her and dialed a number.
It wasn’t on speaker. We could only hear her half of the conversation.
When she spoke to the detective, I watched her nod.
She hung up the phone and faced us. “Det. Castor says he’ll be with you shortly.
Please have a seat while you wait.” She gestured to the hard plastic chairs behind us.
“Thank you.” I spun around, tugging Ethan’s sleeve.
My brother reluctantly followed me. “I’m still gonna raise hell if he takes too long to come out here.”
“Try not to announce that with all the officers around.”
Ethan plopped into the nearest chair and folded his arms across his chest. His scowl said more than words ever could. We weren’t happy to be here or to wait. But we also weren’t the only people with issues or loved ones in trouble.
After fifteen minutes, Ethan rose to his feet, glaring at Officer Hannigan. She picked up the phone before he could approach her. I wasn’t sure who she spoke to, but I guessed it was Det. Castor. Not three minutes later, an unfamiliar male voice called out our names.
“Ethan and Gwen Carmichael?”
I lifted my head, turning toward the detective as my brother stood. “Right here.”
“Come this way, please. I’ve got a place where we can speak in private.”
He must have guessed our emotions would run high with this case, and he wouldn’t be wrong. We’re grieving our murdered sister. There were so many unanswered questions.
Ethan reached down and guided my elbow to have me stand, keeping hold like he thought I was going to burst into tears at any moment. Maybe I would.
I didn’t look at the detective as he led us to a room with a couple of tables, plenty of chairs, and a small kitchenette. Toys were scattered on the floor in front of a big couch. The blinds on the windows were closed, locking out the activity beyond this family-designated area.
“Can I offer you anything before we get started?”