31. You’re Allowed to Move On… To Tacos
Contrary to what one of my comfort shows portrayed, the police station was not filled with hijinks and laughter.
It was unfortunate—I could’ve gone for a little of both.
Ash must’ve known it. His large hand moved from my lower back to squeeze my hip in a comforting gesture.
It’d been three days since I’d found out my mother was dead. The only thing I struggled with was that I wasn’t struggling. I wasn’t mourning the way most would grieve and rage at the murder of a parent. I was sad at her death, yes, but that was as far as it went.
I had more guilt over that than I did about my final words to Veronica.
Even though I’d tried to assure him it was unnecessary, Ash had taken some time off work. I knew he was worried that I was still in shock. That it would suddenly hit me, and I would have a meltdown. It wouldn’t happen, but that didn’t matter. He’d barely left my side.
I was grateful for it right then.
Ash guided me through the station before stopping us in front of a suited man. He released my hip just long enough to shake the man’s hand. When he was done, he looked down at me. “This is my lawyer, Wes.”
My panicked gaze shot from the man to Ash. “I thought that agent just wanted to ask me some questions. Why do you need a lawyer?”
“I’m just here as a precaution.” Wes held his hand out. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I took it and returned the pleasantry I was too freaked to actually feel. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Even though he kept my hand in his, his gaze and words were both aimed at Ash. “I get it now.”
“There’s no shortage of lawyers,” Ash bizarrely bit out with a glare.
Wes didn’t look fazed as he released my hand and gave a cocky smirk. “Yeah, but none of them are as good as me. Now, let’s get this over with.”
We followed Wes as he made his way over to talk to a woman behind a long desk. She made a quick call before escorting us into a small room. After offering coffee that no one accepted, she left, and we each took a seat around the large circular table—with me positioned between Ash and Wes.
It wasn’t an interrogation room—at least not the kind they showed on TV—but that didn’t matter. The heavy weight of anxiety and past crimes sat in my stomach, making me feel like I was about to barf with every second that ticked by.
Ash plucked me from the hard metal chair and settled me on his lap. “Breathe, Camila.”
I inhaled.
The fraction of tension that’d left my body returned tenfold when the door opened, and a man and woman entered. I recognized the woman as the agent who’d come to the house.
I tried to move off Ash’s lap, but his arms tightened.
“Thanks for coming in,” the man said, his sharp gaze darting between Ash and me as he took the seat across from us. He set a tablet down on the table. His unnerving focus locked on me. “I’m Agent Nash, and you’ve already met Agent Grant. First, let me say that we’re sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” I said softly, even though I still didn’t feel like I’d lost anything.
“I know this must be very difficult for you, but we just have a few questions. What do you know about Eternal Sun?”
“Not much.” I gestured to Ash. “Just the little bit that he told me.”
“Your mother didn’t mention anything about the group or her boyfriend?” Agent Grant asked from her spot near the door.
“We rarely spoke.”
The agents shared a look before Agent Nash flipped the tablet over. He swiped at the screen and handed it to me. “Do any of these names or people look familiar? Have you ever seen them around your mother or heard her mention any of them?”
I carefully scanned the names and faces, but nothing jumped out.
For me, at least.
Based on the way Ash’s body tightened, his answer was likely different.
I’ll talk to him later.
“No, I don’t recognize any of them.” I set the tablet on the table. “And like I said, my mother and I rarely spoke, so I don’t know any of her friends or boyfriends.”
Wes tapped the screen. “You finally admitting there’s a connection?”
Agent Nash’s eyes cut to him, and his tone didn’t sound happy. “We think it’s worth looking into. To be thorough.”
Wes scoffed, but the agent ignored him as he peppered me with more questions. Since I really didn’t know anything about Veronica, there wasn’t much insight I could share.
He must’ve come to that same conclusion. His expression was dejected as he handed me a business card. “Thank you for coming in. If you think of anything, no matter how small or insignificant it seems, let me know.”
I nodded as we stood.
Like they were hanging out at a bar and not a police station, Wes and Ash bickered about hockey as we walked to the exit.
It wasn’t until Ash and I were alone in the SUV that I let my questions fly. “Who were the people in those pictures? And why did you recognize them? And what did they mean about a connection?”
He rubbed his palm across his beard as he chose his words. When he spoke them, he watched me closely. “I only recognized a few from the news, but they were recent murder victims.”
I remembered the news segment from outside of the crappy motel. “There’s actually a serial killer?”
“Don’t know for sure, but it’s a helluva coincidence if not.”
I stared out the windshield, not really seeing anything as my brain tried to wrap around that scary possibility.
Ash hooked a finger under my chin and turned my head so I would look at him. “What do you need?”
After mulling that over for a minute, I started with the most important thing. “I need you to go back to work.” He opened his mouth, but I kept going. “The more you hover, waiting for me to breakdown, the guiltier I feel that I’m not more upset.” His eyes softened, and his mouth opened again, but I still didn’t give him the chance to talk. “It’s sad that she’s dead. It’s even sadder if they’re right and all of those deaths are because of a crazy serial killer. But I’m not suppressing some deep heartbreak that is going to burst through at any moment. I just want to move on.”
“I’ll go back to work in a couple days,” he said when I finally let him get a word in.
“Good.”
“But you’re coming with me.”
“Also good.”
His voice grew firmer as his hand moved from my jaw to cup the back of my head like he was preventing a retreat. “And you’ll have extra security. We can rotate through every damn guard we have on our payroll and hire more until you find ones you’re comfortable with.”
Learning that Elliot had been reporting back to the FBI—even just minimally—had hurt. It’d also reinforced my experience that security was always bad.
But I knew it was nonnegotiable. Ash would never back down. And more importantly, there was possibly a serial killer on the loose.
Since I wasn’t an idiot, I said, “Also also good.”
He gave me that small smile that made me want to do anything and everything he demanded.
Only I wasn’t done with my own list of demands. “There are two more things I need.”
“Anything,” he shot back instantly.
“Being in the police station brought back crappy memories and past guilt to mix with my current guilt…”
“You want me to punish you,” he surmised without me having to verbalize my need.
“And tie me up,” I added.
It was amazing how being in literal knots worked so well to unknot the mess in my head.
His hooded eyes heated. “I can do that. And the other thing?”
“I’m hungry for tacos.”
His brows rose in a brief show of surprise before he flashed me a wicked grin. “How about this?” His voice was a low rumble as he tugged my hair to yank me closer. “We’ll go home, I’ll tie you up and spank your ass, and then I’ll keep you tied to me while I feed you the tacos.”
I swallowed hard past the surge of lust that stole my breath and turned my brain to goo. “Tied to you?”
“Secured to my thigh. You’ll be stuck on my lap until I let you go.” Another gentle pull of my hair. “And you already know I’m never doing that.” Like we were discussing errands or something mundane, he released me and started the engine. “Sound good?”
It was messed up that I found that level of attachment comforting and reassuring.
But it was also true.
And so was my answer. “Sounds perfect.”